At night, various kinds of lights lit up throughout Heishi City.

The skull lanterns now came in several more colors—not only blue and green, but also white and red. At first glance, they flickered and changed, more lively than lantern markets in the human world, brilliant yet with a touch of eeriness.

Gu Baiying walked slowly through the streets.

Heishi City’s nights had always been livelier than its days. With his handsome appearance and exceptional temperament, he had barely taken a few steps when bold demon women came to hook his arm. He gave them a cold glance and blocked the approaching person with his Embroidered Bone Spear. The woman reluctantly let go and walked away without interest.

Demon women passed by holding large bunches of snow-white skulls, occasionally lowering their heads to sniff and laughing, “So fragrant.” They were Ghost Head Flowers, and looking around at the surrounding demons, most people held a bunch.

Only then did Gu Baiying suddenly realize that today was Qixi.

Not far away, someone was selling small silver locks. The shopkeeper was a beautiful red-haired woman, hands on her hips, loudly hawking: “Concentric Love Locks! The same Concentric Love Locks as Her Majesty the Demon Empress! Lock your lover, lock your feelings! Just write both your names with a brush and hang them on a tree, then lock it with the key, and you two will never be separated for life!”

“Only two hundred demon pearls for one lock! Minimum purchase of ten, buy ten get one free, buy fifty get ten free! Very cost-effective!”

The price had gone up.

Gu Baiying looked at the small silver locks hanging on the tree branches. Seeing this, the vendor enthusiastically solicited: “Young master, do you want to buy locks? Buy ten to take back with you!”

His gaze swept over those silver locks as he said, “No need,” and walked forward.

The vendor wasn’t annoyed, just looked at his retreating figure with some hesitation: “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before…”

The next moment, a customer inquired, so she cast this brief doubt aside and began earnestly attending to business.

Gu Baiying continued walking forward.

The streets of Heishi City were both familiar and strange. Following his memory, he walked forward and saw a familiar small stall at the corner of the street.

The vendor was a middle-aged man in silver robes, his hair combed into small braids, listlessly staring at ants on the ground in a daze. Seeing someone approach, the man perked up, stood up, and called out: “Take a look, take a look! Red striped stone, peony powder, ghost snow flower, mica bracelets—this is the very last batch! Men with poor romantic luck who buy and wear these will surely have peach blossoms come to their door within three days, very effective!”

Gu Baiying paused in his steps. The man approached, grinning: “Young master, won’t you buy one to wear?”

He didn’t recognize Gu Baiying, but Gu Baiying found it rather amusing and spoke indifferently: “You said this was the last batch several years ago, too.”

“Eh?” The man was stunned for a moment, carefully examining the person before him. After a moment, he slapped his thigh: “So it’s you, young master! I remember you drew a worst-luck fortune from my stall years ago, and the next day my stall was shut down…” He spoke amicably, “Why didn’t you say you were our little highness’s lover back then! If I had known, I wouldn’t have let you draw that fortune.”

When he mentioned “little highness,” there was no sorrow in his expression. The demon race had always been open-minded—birth, aging, sickness, and death were merely normal aspects of human life, never taken to heart. If this Demon King were gone, naturally, there would be another in the future. The mortal world came and went—it was always thus.

“Your fortune was very accurate,” Gu Baiying said indifferently.

“Accurate what? They were all fake.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t mind telling you—there wasn’t a single good fortune in that fortune cylinder back then, all worst-luck fortunes. The idea was that after a customer drew a worst-luck fortune, they’d naturally feel uncomfortable, and then I could ‘prescribe the right medicine,’ selling them some items to overcome disasters and earn some demon pearls. Who knew I’d run into the little highness on patrol and have my stall shut down?”

Gu Baiying was stunned.

So it had been fake?

He had later repeatedly thought about that fortune slip, always feeling he might have missed something. Now, here, he finally learned that everything had just been a coincidental mistake.

Yet it had inadvertently become a prophecy.

The vendor was still chattering: “But after people from Chaos Hall came to warn me, I washed my hands of it and reformed. I don’t dare do that anymore. Today is Qixi. Come, young master.” The man pulled out a jar from under his stall. “Draw another fortune! I guarantee all the ones in here are good fortunes, for good luck!”

He wanted to refuse, but at the last moment changed his mind, set aside his Embroidered Bone Spear, and shook out a fortune slip from the jar.

The wooden slip fell to the ground. Gu Baiying bent down to pick it up—it was a red wooden slip with writing: “Wind plays with bamboo sounds, mistaken for golden ornaments ringing; moon shifts flower shadows, suspected to be a jade person coming.”

The man came over to look and laughed heartily: “Oh my, this is a top-luck fortune! Congratulations, young master—it looks like good things are coming your way!”

He was dazed for a moment, then lowered his head and smiled, returning the wooden slip to the man with a word of thanks.

Around them, music and voices intermingled, human sounds boiling like a cauldron. Lights were like stars, illuminating a night of splendor throughout the city.

Further ahead, someone was performing shadow puppet theater.

Last time he came, there had been many people watching the shadow puppets, packed in three layers inside and out. However, later Heishi City banned overly explicit content in shadow plays, making the performances bland and ordinary, so far fewer demons came to watch. The demon race was bold and passionate—they always lacked interest in such lingering, subtle, melancholy performances. Now, in front of the theater stall, only a few scattered elderly demons stood.

Gu Baiying stopped in front of the shadow puppet theater.

This play was singing the story of a scholar falling in love with a minister’s daughter.

The performer’s voice was melodious, the lyrics elegant. He sang of the scholar’s love at first sight and his complete devotion. He sang of the young lady’s destined connection with the scholar, their mutual affection.

“…On a night when moonlight melts, in spring when flower shadows are silent, how can one face the bright moon and not see the person within it…”

“…Deep in the orchid chamber, lonely and quiet, no way to spend the fragrant spring. The wandering poet surely pities those who sigh eternally…”

A traitorous general wanted to seize the young lady, the scholar used a clever plan to resolve the crisis, but just then the minister’s wife wanted to break the engagement, followed by secret meetings, going to the capital, taking exams, rumors…

The demons had changed the lyrics, making them less gorgeous than before. The audience found them vulgar and unstimulating, so the crowd in front of the stall gradually thinned, until at some point only the young man remained.

He stood before this shadow puppet theater, earnestly listening to this play that couldn’t be considered particularly fresh.

Joys and sorrows, loves and hatreds—all compressed into just a few sung verses. The people of Heishi City had intense desires and couldn’t bear such melancholy, vulgar performances, so there were very few listeners.

Gu Baiying had never listened to opera before, always feeling that such tender romance and lingering separations had nothing to do with him. But now he stood quietly before this shadow puppet theater, listening to this reunion that no one else stopped to watch.

The scholar achieved the highest honors, returned home in glory, married his beloved, and fulfilled his life’s wishes.

The person in the play was singing: “Never to be separated again, forever united, may all lovers under heaven become married couples.”

May all lovers under heaven become married couples.

It was a vulgar yet completely happy ending.

He watched the ending alone.

All around was clamor, and the surrounding lights gradually dimmed. An elderly man emerged from behind the shadow puppets, looked at the young man before him, and slowly said: “Customer, this play has ended.”

His eyelashes lowered, his profile casting a lonely shadow in the firelight. After a very long time, he spoke: “Mm.”