Prologue

One cup wishes you a fine spouse. A second cup wishes you many children. A third cup wishes you lasting joy.

The kitchen fire in the Si residence burned merrily, and Young Master Liu lifted the lid of the steamer, gazing at the pile of oddly shaped things that might be called buns. He poked at each one with a chopstick, wearing a satisfied, self-absorbed smile.

Mo Ya stood on tiptoe beside him, peering into the steamer, and asked with great difficulty, “Did your buns just fight each other to the death?” Even Gungun, curled on his shoulder, wore an expression of disdain.

“Go on, get out!” Young Master Liu slammed the lid shut with a bang. “What’s fun about food that’s round and smooth like your bald head? For the food that passes through my hands, flavor and innovation matter equally.”

“Then you can’t make the buns square!”

“Who says buns have to be round! As long as they taste good!”

“But they don’t taste good either…”

“If I wrapped you up, you’d definitely taste good.”

“I’m just honestly stating how I feel. You’re always so hot-tempered.”

“Roll, roll, roll—hey, I wasn’t calling you, you stupid fox, get off my head this instant!”

The everyday chaos behind her failed entirely to catch Tao Yao’s attention. She sat on the kitchen threshold hugging a hand warmer, watching, seemingly bored, as rain dripped steadily from the eaves.

It had been quite a few days since she’d returned from Muzhou, and the capital had finally entered the coldest stretch of the year. Only, no snow had fallen yet this winter—instead there had been several rounds of rain, neither heavy nor light. Steward Miao said the weather this year was different from years past; even now, they’d only seen rain and no snow, whereas in previous years the accumulated snow on the ground would already be several inches deep by this point. Yet despite the lack of snow, it was colder than usual.

“When something is abnormal, there’s always a demon behind it,” Steward Miao had said to her that day with a smile. “Little Tao, don’t you think so?”

“Something with the power to affect the frost, rain, and snow across heaven and earth—that Fengsheng creature doesn’t have that kind of ability,” Tao Yao said, staring at his cheerful face. “You seem pretty pleased with yourself.”

“I just collected a big debt that was owed to us, so yes, I’m pleased. Haha.” He shook the ledger in his hand and turned to leave, then looked back at her. “Now I’m even more certain you haven’t cheated any of us. You really are a physician.”

Tao Yao raised an eyebrow. “Out of nowhere, why say that?”

“The Second Young Master said you gave the most expensive medicine to the most useless demon,” Steward Miao said, winking at her. “You only look like you’re causing trouble.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I’m always complimenting you.”

“In that case, you just said you collected a big debt—does that mean my New Year red envelope this year can be as big as a pillow?”

“I wish it could be. But the Second Young Master has said your New Year red envelope will be used to cover the clothes you ruined. So…”

“How shameless of him! I only got it a little dirty! Washing it would have been fine! Besides, that ratty old robe of his isn’t worth that much!”

“It’s not cheap… it might really take a pillow-sized red envelope to buy fabric of the same quality.”

“…Fine then, Steward Miao, later you write down the prices of all his hats, shoes, and socks for me, and from now on I’ll pick the cheapest ones to vent my anger on.”

“Haha, how did you suddenly turn foolish, girl? Isn’t the most money-saving method to simply get along well with the Second Young Master? If you’re not angry, you won’t need to vent.” Steward Miao poked her forehead and walked off laughing loudly.

The problem was, would he even give her the chance to “get along well” with him? Of course not!

Tao Yao let out a breath and slumped her head dejectedly. Her mood these past few days had been just like the weather—gray, cold, and listless. Winter really wasn’t an easy season to be happy in; even her sleep and appetite had been affected. Ever since returning from Muzhou, it had been like this—many nights she woke without warning, not because the new pillow was uncomfortable, nor because of nightmares, but simply because in that instant her mind and heart felt utterly empty, her body without anchor, her spirit without mooring. Perhaps she’d caught a chill that day in the icy river and it had left a lingering ailment; or worse, perhaps she’d swallowed some of the foul flesh and blood the eel-demon had scattered in the water while choking, upsetting her stomach. Laughable, laughable—that a healer couldn’t heal herself after all.

As for that Si Kuanglan—it was as if he’d never gone to Muzhou with her at all. Since returning he kept to himself as usual, saying not a word about their experience in Muzhou even at the dinner table, speaking to no one beyond discussing matters with Steward Miao. In the past she could still run into him occasionally in the courtyards and corridors, but these past few days, unless she deliberately climbed the wall to peek into the Wang garden, she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the hem of his robe. Steward Miao said that year-end always brought a pile of matters big and small, so the Second Young Master was inevitably busier than usual. Indeed, a few days ago the Second and Eldest Young Masters had gone out together—where, naturally, they wouldn’t explain to lowly servants like themselves. It was only Si Jingyuan, who’d finally finished copying enough young ladies’ birth charts to earn his release, who let slip a little: this trip was to handle some small matter in Luoyang, and before leaving he’d cheerfully told her he’d bring her back something fun. Though she truly wanted to ask what business they had in Luoyang, one look at Si Kuanglan’s aloof, indifferent air—cold enough to rival the depths of winter—made her swiftly swallow her curiosity, and she’d merely stuffed the reins of two good horses into their hands, feigning dutiful composure as she said, “Take care, young masters. Don’t lose so much as a hair. Everyone’s counting on you coming back safe and sound to hand out New Year red envelopes.” Si Kuanglan had glanced sidelong at her, swung up onto his horse, and said only “Let’s go” to Si Jingyuan—not a single word left for her. Then, amid Si Jingyuan’s booming “Behave yourself at home and don’t cause trouble,” she’d watched the two brothers ride off into the distance.

Was it really just some small matter? Would a small matter require both of the Si family’s little demon kings to go in person? Could it be that people from that whatever-it-was-called Bi’an Division had come to make trouble? Right, all this time she still hadn’t gotten around to asking about the background of this Bi’an Division—Si Kuanglan had said he’d once held office in that wretched place? Why did it suddenly feel like she’d gotten the short end of the deal—she’d laid out all of Peach Capital’s secrets to them, but what about their secrets? If this wasn’t about someone coming to cause trouble, and they’d gone to Luoyang on their own initiative instead, then who were they going to see? That Sect Master Yue? Could his daughter have been swindled by some demon again? Wait, hadn’t Si Jingyuan once said something about how that Young Lady Yue’s birth chart was strong enough to be a perfect match for Si Kuanglan? Judging by family background and looks, it did seem like a plausible match—baa, baa, baa! A loud bleating came from the stable behind her, scattering the question marks crowding her mind. She made a face, thinking, why am I even considering this, what does it have to do with me—and turned to glare at the horse, scolding it for being a perfectly good horse yet insisting on learning to bleat like a sheep, how improper! The horse, undeterred, only bleated louder and more cheerfully. She snorted and swept away, feeling somewhat irritated, without quite knowing why—probably it really was just that sheep-bleating horse being especially annoying.

“Want one?” A strangely shaped bun was held out in front of her. Young Master Liu took the opportunity to sit down beside her. “Rotten weather, huh.”

“Take it away, take it away. When will you ever manage to make something people can actually eat.” She pushed it away in disgust.

“Aiyo, aiyo, the moment a certain young master leaves, someone can’t eat or sleep properly. That face, not pretty to begin with, has gotten even longer, like a horse’s face. Even my buns look better than you.” Young Master Liu popped his own creation into his mouth, deliberately drawing out his words. “Tsk tsk, the girl’s growing up, can’t be kept around any longer…”

With a crisp smack, Tao Yao slapped him across the mouth, sending the whole bun down his throat and nearly choking him.

“Shallow!” She didn’t even bother to look at him.

“Just stating facts.” Young Master Liu patted his chest, finally managing to swallow the bun. “Ever since you came back from Muzhou you haven’t been quite right. We’ve known each other so long—how could I not sense when something’s on your mind?” He suddenly reached out and turned Tao Yao’s face toward him, saying seriously, “This trip to Muzhou—was it really just effortlessly dealing with one eel-demon, nothing more?”

“Who said effortlessly? I lost my most precious pill!” Tao Yao said indignantly. “Does your brain stop working every winter? Didn’t I tell you already?”

“Hibernation doesn’t affect my brain.” Young Master Liu stared into her eyes for a good while, then let go, smiling. “I hope you’re only upset about your medicine.”

“Of course I’m upset about it! The weather’s rotten too, and the food you make is terrible—how could my mood possibly be good.” She rubbed her face hard. “The next order of business should be suggesting to Steward Miao that we hire an actual decent cook.”

Young Master Liu yawned. “Order of business… more likely the thing you’re looking for still hasn’t turned up at all, has it?” He stood, patting her shoulder. “Whether you rely on your own sensing ability to find it, or let the Si family help—think it over carefully yourself. Anyway, that person said they’ll be back when they’re back. If you can’t produce the item, well, we’ll just die in each other’s arms.”

“If we’re really that unlucky, you’ll go first anyway. That person will definitely stew you first.” Tao Yao snorted coldly, not the least bit worried. “What I lost, I’ll find myself.”

“How much longer are you going to steam that? The water’s about to boil dry!” Mo Ya, forced into fire-watching duty, shouted from the stove. “And how much longer do these greens need to soak!”

“Coming!” Young Master Liu called back over his shoulder, then added flatly, “You’re still Tao Yao of Peach Capital, the little servant girl who feeds horses… just having fun, that’s all.”

Tao Yao froze for a moment, then sneered. “Mind your own stove. Save your nonsense.”

“I don’t like swallowing nonsense.” Young Master Liu hissed at her, baring snake-like fangs, tilting his head toward the stove. “What I like to swallow is over there. A hundred things—I keep exact accounts.”

“Get lost!” Tao Yao ignored him.

The kitchen grew noisy again, Young Master Liu and Mo Ya bickering endlessly over whether to add salt, while Gungun, caught sneaking food and then throwing it back up, broke Young Master Liu’s heart so thoroughly he grabbed the fox and clapped a pot lid over it, threatening to steam it, which sent Mo Ya jumping and shouting to fight him to the death. This was the so-called warmth of mortal life, always most vividly expressed through the three of them—and perhaps only scenes like this could ward off the unpleasant gloom of the dark clouds and cold rain.

Perhaps because they’d been together so long, the memory of first meeting Young Master Liu and Mo Ya had already blurred. What always leapt to mind first were the various chaotic scenes involving them—a cold, smooth snake, and a little monk with an equally smooth bald head—somehow, at some point, they’d become the two medicines of her life, single-purpose remedies specifically for loneliness.

But was loneliness even an illness? Not really.

Tao Yao glanced back at them. If one day they parted ways, it probably wouldn’t hurt too much—after all, Young Master Liu’s cooking was so terrible, and Mo Ya nagged and fussed like a soft-hearted old woman, not to mention the fox, who would even like a creature that used its tail as a rag and shed constantly. Besides, she’d once walked such a long road alone, and hadn’t died from it either.

Young Master Liu was right—she was, after all, Tao Yao of Peach Capital. All she needed was outstanding medical skill, a temper fierce enough to cow ten thousand demons, and an endless, unending life. That was enough.

But was it really enough?

She stood, gazing at the gloomy, overcast sky, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently calculating what day of the month it was, then said, “You two keep arguing. I’m going out for a walk.”

Neither Young Master Liu nor Mo Ya had the spare attention to answer her—the kitchen was still a battlefield.

She grabbed an umbrella and walked toward the front gate, only to find it half open, with a great commotion outside. Listening closely, she heard what sounded like a woman crying.

Tao Yao hurried out to find Steward Miao and a few servants standing at the gate, facing a group of strangers from who-knew-where, all clustered chattering around a woman in wedding red. Leading them was a garishly dressed old matchmaker-type woman, earnestly urging the bride: “Now, now, if you keep carrying on like this, where’s your family supposed to put its face? Today is your wedding send-off, not your funeral—why be so unreasonable about it.”

“I won’t go! I’ve never even seen what he looks like—why should I bind myself to him for life!” The bride’s makeup had run from crying, and she was soaked from the rain, utterly bedraggled.

“It’s a good family, the groom is refined and talented, I guarantee you’ll live a good life from now on! Every one of us has come through this same way. Listen to this old woman’s advice—what does it matter whether you’ve seen his face or not? All matches are tied by the Old Man Under the Moon with his red string, predetermined by heaven’s will, not to be defied. Look at your father, already in poor health—if you keep carrying on like this, are you trying to take his life?”

“I…”

“There now, look how terrible the weather is—if we set off any later, it’ll be dark before we even reach the groom’s house. Stop fussing and get into the bridal sedan obediently.”

“That’s right, even if you don’t care for your own dignity, think of your father’s health! After all the trouble finding you this match, are you trying to cause his death with your carrying-on!”

“Exactly, word will get out and the whole city will laugh at us!”

Everyone spoke at once, leaving the girl speechless. She went limp and was helped up, reluctantly walking forward.

An older man wiped the rain from his face and jogged over to Steward Miao, apologizing repeatedly. “My niece is ignorant, running about wildly—we never expected to trespass onto your esteemed residence’s grounds. Please forgive the disturbance!”

Steward Miao smiled. “No harm done. Good that she’s found. It’s getting late—best hurry along so as not to miss the auspicious hour.”

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you for not holding it against us. Please also send our regards to your two young masters.” The man breathed a sigh of relief, bowed repeatedly, and hurried off.

Tao Yao stepped forward, watching the direction the group had disappeared. “You’re just letting them go like that?”

“They trespassed without intent—no need to pursue it,” Steward Miao said with a smile. “They were already frightened enough. Why make things harder for them? The Si residence isn’t the Court of the King of Hell.”

Tao Yao gave him a sidelong glance. “I mean that girl. She clearly didn’t want to marry—wasn’t that a forced marriage?”

“Then what would you have wanted to do?” Steward Miao shook his head, smiling. “Marriage matters—call it grand and it’s heaven’s decree; call it small and it’s a private family affair. Besides, though that girl tried to flee, in the end she compromised too. It’s not something outsiders should meddle in.”

As he spoke, Steward Miao flicked her nose lightly and said in a low voice, “Weren’t you the one who said you only concern yourself with the illnesses of demons under heaven? Now you want to manage human marriages too?”

Tao Yao’s eyes rolled. “I’m not managing anything—I’m just curious. If that girl just now had thrown herself at your legs without a second thought, begging you to save her, would you still call it heaven’s decree and refuse to get involved?”

“But that girl didn’t throw herself at my legs without a second thought, did she.” Steward Miao shook his head with a smile, then looked her over. “You’re going out in this heavy rain?”

“I don’t need to serve your two young masters—I have my own patients to attend to,” Tao Yao said righteously.

“Oh? Ever since I learned of your identity, I’ve never once seen you go out to treat a patient. I thought perhaps there simply weren’t many sick demons around, sparing you the trouble,” Steward Miao said seriously.

“Tch, you think I don’t know you secretly believe my medical skills are so poor that my door sits cold and empty of visitors?” Tao Yao rose on her toes to speak into his ear. “This person isn’t dead—there’s been a fire-summons. Do you know how many demons burn paper offerings begging for my help? Enough that even your entire Si residence couldn’t hold them all.”

Steward Miao blinked. “Fire-summons?” Then, realization dawning: “That time at the dinner table when you suddenly started smoking while eating—was that related to this too?”

“That was an accident.” Tao Yao coughed awkwardly a few times. “Anyway, it works on roughly the same principle as your Si family collecting calling cards—the paper burned for me has to state the sender’s identity, condition, and location. Whether I go treat them after receiving it depends on my mood.”

“A physician can practice based purely on mood?”

“Don’t your young masters do the same?”

“But my young masters aren’t physicians.”

“I’m off. Don’t wait for me for dinner tonight.”

“Run carefully, and hold that umbrella properly!”

“Got it, Auntie Miao!”

“…”

With a crash, a black shadow slammed hard into the outer wall of a residence on the outskirts of Luoyang. Amid the rising dust, Tao Yao crouched at the base of the wall clutching her head, wincing in pain. She hadn’t used the Swift Movement Technique in so long she’d lost her sense of control—should have just ridden a horse out here instead…

Just then, another boom sounded. Luckily her reflexes were quick enough to dodge aside, or the bricks and rubble that suddenly exploded from the wall would have buried her under a mound of debris.

This one had nothing to do with her—light spilled from the newly opened hole in the wall, accompanied by a stern rebuke: “How dare this demon still resist!”

Clutching her head, she shuffled over to peer through the hole. Amid the wreckage filling the room, she saw two men dressed identically in black robes and dark armor—one holding an iron rod, the other gripping a set of manacles. Facing them was a young man in red robes, already covered in wounds, struggling even to stand, yet still putting on an air of refusing to submit.

“The two of you—it’s not that I refuse to go with you, I only ask for one more day’s grace. Once tomorrow passes, without either of you needing to lift a hand, I will put on the manacles myself and submit to whatever punishment awaits,” the man in red said through gritted teeth.

“Enough of this nonsense! We followed proper procedure and gave you a full month’s notice that we’d come for you today. Heaven’s decree said today, so it is today! Not one day later—not even one hour!” The black-robed man’s tone was cold as iron, the manacles in his hand clattering.

The other spoke in the same tone, raising his iron rod. “If you don’t submit at once, Lord Thunder has given the order—we may act first and report after!”

Lord Thunder?

Tao Yao’s eyes lit up, and ignoring her still-aching head, she scrambled through the hole with a grin. “Now, now, gentlemen, calm down, calm down. It’s the middle of the night—you’ve already broken the wall, waking the neighbors isn’t very nice.”

“Bold! Who goes there!” The gleaming iron rod swung toward her.

The man in red, seeing her, let out a huge sigh of relief—and it was this sudden release of tension that finally made him unable to hold himself up any longer. He sank halfway to his knees, managing to squeeze out a smile. “You finally made it.”

Tao Yao stepped forward, grabbing his chin and turning it left and right to examine him, clicking her tongue. “Not bad—not many demons manage to schedule their own doctor’s appointment in advance. Your wounds do look quite fresh.”

“Very fresh. These two celestial officers held nothing back.” He tried to lift his hand to touch the wound on his face, only to discover his right arm had vanished entirely—the sleeve hanging empty. He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s bad—now they won’t even be able to manacle me.”

“Not knowing when to fear death, and still mocking us!”

Just as the iron rod was about to come crashing down on his head, Tao Yao suddenly stepped between them, deliberately raising both hands in a pleading gesture. “Both celestial officers, please wait—this demon is my patient. Please grant me the favor of one more day to treat him.”

The golden bell at her wrist swayed back and forth, as if deliberately making sure it would be seen.

The iron rod froze in midair. The two black-robed men exchanged glances, their earlier show of authority inexplicably deflated by half, an unspoken understanding of her identity passing between them.

Tao Yao smiled sweetly, fingering her bell, an innocent look on her face. “It’s not that I mean to obstruct your duties, gentlemen—it’s simply that I have a prior arrangement with this demon. Heaven has its rules, and Peach Capital has ours too. Whoever I’ve agreed to treat—unless they die of causes I can’t cure—no one may take them away until I’ve healed them. I hope you two will grant me this.”

The one holding the rod lowered his weapon, looking troubled. “This demon creature is on Lord Thunder’s blacklist, a fugitive wanted by the heavens, and today is the appointed day to bring him back for punishment. If anything goes wrong, Lord Thunder will surely place the blame on us. Our positions are lowly—please, honored guest of Peach Capital, do not make things difficult for us.”

Tao Yao smiled brightly. “No difficulty at all, no difficulty at all. How about this—go back and tell him that I, Tao Yao, was the one who interfered. If Lord Thunder wants to place blame, he can come settle the score with me personally.”

“This…” The two exchanged glances again. Though they knew Peach Capital was a formidable place, they hadn’t expected a young girl to openly defy Heaven’s Lord Thunder himself—a rare case of someone truly unafraid of death.

Seeing them still hesitating, Tao Yao rummaged through the pouch at her side, saying as she searched, “If you two still find it hard to explain yourselves, why don’t I do you a favor—I have medicine here that rots flesh and blood, I could apply some to you. That way, when Lord Thunder sees your wounds, he’ll surely believe you truly couldn’t defeat me, and won’t blame you further. Don’t worry, applying it only hurts a little.”

Both men immediately backed away three steps, waving their hands frantically. “No need! Since you are the Ghost Physician of Peach Capital, we will report today’s events honestly to Lord Thunder. The consequences are our own to bear.” With that, the two vanished in a puff of black smoke.

“That scared me half to death! I’d long heard that Tao Yao of Peach Capital was an unreasonable, vicious creature, that plenty of people have vanished without a trace in her hands.”

“Can’t cross her! Even the Heavenly Emperor and the Kunlun Consort of the Divine Union give the Peach Capital people three parts deference. Let’s hurry back and report clearly to Lord Thunder—I suspect this demon can only be captured by his own hand now.”

Tao Yao didn’t hear the conversation drifting down from midair; even if she had, at most it would have encouraged her to hope they’d run faster and get Lord Thunder down to see her sooner.

The room finally fell quiet.

Tao Yao looked over the battered man in red, playfully shaking his empty sleeve. “Jiang Jun—beaten and injured, arm and leg broken, life in danger, please come treat me before the day is out… that’s what you wrote on the paper, wasn’t it? And you even made sure to write the date extra large and prominent.”

He laughed sheepishly. “My leg isn’t actually broken…”

Tao Yao flicked his sleeve and snorted coldly. “You didn’t summon me to treat your wounds at all—you clearly timed it so I’d arrive just in time to run interference against those two Thunder underlings!” With that, she pressed down on his head and yanked his collar back, revealing on his neck a character for “criminal,” faintly wreathed in black mist. She released him, pursing her lips. “So you really are on Lord Thunder’s blacklist. What if I’d been in a bad mood today and hadn’t come?”

“As long as you read every single word of the paper I burned for you, I knew you’d come,” he said confidently.

“Why so sure?” Tao Yao scratched her nose.

He smiled, struggling to his feet. “After you treat my wounds, would you accompany me somewhere?”

“With wounds like yours, why would you even need my help—you could heal yourself easily enough,” Tao Yao said bluntly. “You’re the unrivaled Jiang Jun, after all.”

“But you came all this way—wouldn’t it be a shame not to make a show of it?”

“Make a ghost of a show! Do you want me to rip off your other arm too?”

“Just joking… I mean, could you help me mix some flour? My right arm’s broken, it’s awkward to manage.”

“You’re making a body out of flour?”

“Yes, and whatever’s left over after making the body, I can eat. Quite efficient.”

“…”

“Much obliged. The flour’s in the top cabinet in the kitchen.”

“It looks like your eyeball is about to fall out too…”

“Ah… just took a punch there earlier. It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll just pinch one back on. Took some internal injury too, my qi’s a bit unsteady—I think my nose isn’t very secure anymore either.”

“Maybe eat a pill to settle your internal energy first… a fallen nose would look pretty awful.”

“Much obliged.”

“You’ve been in the mortal realm quite a while now, haven’t you?”

“Quite a while, yes…”

Having been in the human world this long, and still having the same nightmare—it really was an awful feeling.

He sat on the bed, hands still unconsciously clutching the blanket tight, body trembling slightly, chest heaving hard.

The dream never changed—always the same roaring furnace fire, himself running desperately as the flames closed in, then his foot finding empty air, plunging as if into a bottomless abyss, and then waking.

And then a sleepless night, because even lying back down, what kept surfacing in his mind was the sound of laughter and idle chatter, now near, now far, belonging to a world that wasn’t his own.

He still remembered how it had felt when he and his companions were held in the palms of those young celestial officers—as suffocating as every sleepless night since, jolted awake by nightmares.

Back then, what reached his ears was the officers’ idle chatter and laughter with each other. He didn’t struggle—he knew struggling was useless. Drawing closer and closer was the man-high bronze incense burner placed in the rear hall of the Moon Palace, rarely lit on ordinary days, but these past few days the fire had been burning fiercely. Even before he got close, he could already feel the rising heat.

“Should be done burning today, right?”

“Mm, this is the last batch.”

“What a shame, really. The Old Man’s red string—such a precious treasure.”

“Heh, well, that’s our Old Man having some backbone, isn’t it.”

“Backbone, or just spiting the Kunlun side—everyone knows the truth, haha.”

He heard it, and felt not just fear but also anger.

Heaven and Kunlun had always each governed matters of mortal marriage—Heaven had its Old Man Under the Moon, Kunlun had its Lord of Harmony. Though Heaven and Kunlun stood as parallel divine realms, in practice each governed itself independently, even clashing with one another at times. This business of the Old Man burning his red strings traced back to that very Lord of Harmony from Kunlun. Everyone knew the Old Man had always bound the men and women of the mortal world together with his red string to fix their marriages—once bound by the red string, they were destined to become husband and wife, joined for life, never to be parted. Yet this method, long accepted by both heaven and the mortal world, had recently been mocked by the Lord of Harmony. It had started at the annual gathering where Heaven and Kunlun put on a friendly show for each other—the Lord of Harmony had openly mocked the Old Man as an incompetent god, saying that so-called heaven-bestowed matches were nothing but the product of him forcibly tying people together with rope out of his own willfulness. Unlike Kunlun, he said, where they truly had mortals’ best interests at heart—he, the Lord of Harmony, never forced love, only gently nudged things along between those who already had feelings for each other. If it worked out, all the better; if not, it could only be attributed to insufficient fated affinity between the two, not to be forced. Marital affinity should arise from the heart’s own love—how could it come from a rope? The Lord of Harmony, emboldened by drink, had even patted the Old Man’s shoulder, saying that “let nature take its course, let things happen as they will” was the truth about love and marriage he’d only come to understand after all these years as a god. Only those who wished to satisfy their own divine urge to control by meddling in mortal affairs, he said, would be so self-important as to arrange others’ marriages and tolerate no defiance. Binding a good match together was one thing, but if it turned into a resentful union, because of the red string, the two could never separate until one of them died—their time wasted entirely on mutual strife and torment. So, he asked, was this “never parting” a blessing or a curse?

The Lord of Harmony’s words left the Old Man red-faced with anger, and before he could find a retort, the Lord of Harmony clasped his shoulder again, his expression subtly probing: “And speaking of your red string—is it really made purely from immortal essence and heavenly silkworm silk, refined by you alone? You haven’t added anything else in… some demon creature, perhaps?”

At this, the Old Man, rarely one to lose his temper, flew into a rage. “Nonsense!”

“Now, now, Old Man, don’t be angry, I was just repeating hearsay, aiya, look at my mouth, I say too much after a few drinks.” The Lord of Harmony held up his cup with one hand while lightly slapping his own mouth with the other. “I mean nothing by it, really, just thinking—maybe the Old Man should rest for a while too. These mortal love affairs, why not just leave them to humans to sort out themselves? We can each live our own lives; come find me for wine and chess sometime, enjoy some leisure.”

The Old Man snorted coldly. “Heaven is not like your Kunlun. Leaving mortal affairs entirely to chance will only bring chaos sooner or later.”

“And tying red strings around indiscriminately doesn’t cause chaos?”

“You… this humble one doesn’t need red strings to keep mortal marriages in perfect order all the same!”

“Then I’ll wait and see. Tsk tsk, the mortal realm is truly blessed.”

The Old Man swept off in a huff, while the Lord of Harmony waved cheerfully after him in farewell.

The unhappy outcome of this gathering was that the Old Man issued an order to destroy all existing red strings.

The officers below all assumed the Old Man was simply spiting the Lord of Harmony, but only the one or two confidants who had followed him for years understood the true reason: the red strings he now refined used immortal essence and heavenly silkworm silk merely as a surface disguise—the most essential component was, in truth, a demon creature.

On Mount Guguan there dwelled a demon called Jiang Jun, born beneath the ice and snow, born once every thousand years, shaped like a crimson red thread, extremely adhesive by nature, capable of binding all things inseparably—refined properly, it could become a divine artifact.

Long ago, the Old Man had discovered that the red strings he refined weren’t sturdy enough after all—if a bound man and woman truly wished to break free of their union, the string would eventually snap. He’d tried every method without success, until finally, on a whim, he’d secretly led his confidants to Mount Guguan and harvested every last Jiang Jun beneath the ice and snow, bringing them back to refine together with other materials, finally producing an unbreakable Old Man’s red string. Since Jiang Jun was originally a demon, and now aided by immortal essence, every string refined from it possessed a kind of sentience—worthy of being called a divine object. From then on, not a single union bound by the Old Man’s string had ever broken.

“Won’t the Old Man feel bad? Refining the string took quite some effort too. If we want more of this string in future, we’ll have to wait for Jiang Jun to grow again on Mount Guguan—it’s been four hundred years since the last harvest, so waiting another six hundred would be pushing it. And who knows if it’ll even grow there again…”

“Compared to feeling bad, if Kunlun really confirms that we’ve been using demon creatures to refine our strings, where will Heaven’s dignity go? I mean, though that Jiang Jun is technically a demon, in essence it’s not much different from any medicinal herb ingredient—anyone using it to refine something wouldn’t normally be a big deal. But given the Old Man’s status, well, Heaven has always taken pride in ‘pure lineage’—demons have always ranked lower here. Though that Jiang Jun gained divine essence and became a divine object, it was never formally registered under Heaven’s roster—it doesn’t even count as a demon-immortal. And here you have the esteemed Old Man Under the Moon, one of Heaven’s great gods, using a demon as his tool. However you look at it, it’s indefensible.”

“True enough. But Lord Thunder also has quite a few demon-immortals under him, and sometimes he orders unregistered demon creatures to run errands for him too—why doesn’t Kunlun criticize him for it?”

“With Lord Thunder’s temper and power, who would dare. The consequences of the Old Man losing his temper and Lord Thunder losing his temper are hardly the same.”

“True, that. So what happens going forward? Without red strings, how will mortal marriages be bound?”

“There are ways to refine red strings without Jiang Jun too—that’s the Old Man’s problem to worry about, not ours. We just need to finish burning these strings and be done with it.”

“Sigh. Fine.”

He grew angrier the more he listened.

When he was first taken from Mount Guguan, no one had asked his consent. When he was refined into a red string, no one had asked his consent either. And now, because of someone else’s careless remark, they were simply going to burn it all away—was that furnace really a place one could just walk into? Once inside, spirit and soul would be utterly destroyed. Though he was now merely a red string in the Old Man’s hand, he wasn’t simply an unfeeling, unconscious thread—as that officer had said, he had already become something both demon and immortal, a divine object. By rights, the Old Man should have formally registered every red string that came from a Jiang Jun on Heaven’s roster, treating them with the status of demon-immortals. Yet who would have thought that after his companions helped the Old Man arrange match after match, all they received in the end was to be thrown into the furnace.

Face. It was all just about face.

Why—why should his entire existence be sacrificed only to preserve someone else’s dignity?

The furnace’s firelight was blindingly bright even through the sack. Inside the sack, all his companions were sobbing softly, but what could be done—there was no escaping, the sack was sealed with the Old Man’s own seal.

He could only hope to be burned to nothing quickly, to suffer as little as possible.

“I’ll keep watch here—there’s still one more sack in the hall, go fetch it.”

“Is there more? Wasn’t that the last one?”

“No, I remember there’s still one more. Go back and check, don’t make a mistake.”

“Alright, I’ll go look.”

Just as he thought the searing flames were about to consume him, a hand suddenly reached into the sealed sack and, without hesitation, grabbed him. Before he could even register what had happened, he found himself dropped into another pitch-black sleeve.

The officer glanced around, and once certain no one had seen his small act, relaxed, then immediately tossed the resealed sack into the furnace.

The officer who’d left soon returned. “There’s no more—this was the last one.”

“Is that so? Then I must have misremembered.”

“All burned?”

“All burned. Let’s go.”

Fate’s turn came without warning.

Because of face, he’d nearly become ash in the furnace. Because of affection, he’d gotten his life back.

Soon, he was secretly given as a gift to the hand of a celestial maiden.

“Your birthday’s coming up soon. This is the only remaining Old Man’s red string made from Jiang Jun—I secretly kept it back to give to you,” the young officer said, his face flushing red as a ripe fruit. “Don’t tear off the talisman paper until you need to use it. This thing’s got a mind of its own—it’ll run.”

“Are you crazy? If the Old Man finds out, he’ll beat you to death!” The young celestial maiden held the red string, still bound by the talisman paper, with great worry. “Besides, why are you giving this to me?”

“I couldn’t think of anything more precious to give. After all, there’s only this one left,” the young officer stammered, rubbing his hands awkwardly. “If you have someone you never want to part from, just use this string to tie your little fingers together, and you’ll never be separated, even in death. Precious, isn’t it?”

The young celestial maiden blushed too, thought about it, then pushed the red string back toward him. “I don’t want it.”

“What are you afraid of, no one will ever know! Just take it, I can’t give you anything else nice anyway!”

“Even if you gave me just a fallen leaf from the ground, that would be better than something you stole to give me.”

“This isn’t really stealing—ugh, just take it anyway, it’ll come in handy someday!”

“I don’t want it. What’s so good about being bound together against your will!”

“Just take it, I said!”

“I said I don’t want it!”

“Take it!”

Amid the back-and-forth pushing and pulling, someone’s movement went too far—the talisman paper binding him tore open. Given this precious, never-to-repeat chance, he summoned all his strength and fled like the wind, and the two behind him, still recovering, couldn’t catch up. Like a small red snake, he fled all the way from the celestial hall to the Heavenly Gate. Fortune favored him too—that day happened to be a feast day in Heaven, with immortals from all directions coming and going in a lively bustle. Seizing his chance, he secretly wound himself around the ankle of a tipsy earthbound immortal, and as the immortal safely passed through the Heavenly Gate, he waited for his moment. Once the earthbound immortal descended to the mortal realm, he slipped away and made his escape.

His life was saved. From then on, he’d live in the mortal world—wouldn’t go anywhere else.

In his early days after falling into the mortal realm, he hid in deep mountains, concealed himself in bustling markets, and eventually realized that to live in the mortal world, he couldn’t remain forever an old red string. He’d never considered honestly cultivating a human form like other demons did—that would take far too long, and besides, he didn’t understand the methods involved. After much thought, he had his moment of inspiration in the kitchen of a household. He was Jiang Jun by nature—”adhesiveness” was his innate gift, and this ability, combined with the Old Man’s divine arts, could bind even human fate and marriage. With such power at his disposal, using flour to make a body wasn’t so difficult, provided he channeled his own demonic and immortal energy into it—transforming into a human shape wasn’t hard at all.

Actually, he wasn’t the first to do this either—he’d heard of various cultivators using clay, lotus, or wood to fashion human forms, but flour… probably not many.

Anyway, that night he worked for most of the evening, and finally, before dawn, emerged in the form of a man, conveniently swiping some clothes drying in the yard to wear. Fortunately, no one was home that night, or the sight of flying flour transforming into a red string turned human would have terrified them to death.

From then on, he became human, his body remarkably solid—every grain of flour, not just every piece, clung tightly to him. Perhaps because of the touch of immortal essence, his appearance turned out rather handsome too.

He thought his new life was off to a pleasant start, but the first lesson “life” taught him was a gang of merciless mountain bandits. He’d only wanted to move to a more prosperous city, but on the mountain road he was beaten half to death, simply because he had no money on him. Though his body was made of flour, it still felt pain to some degree, and combined with his lack of practice controlling this body, he barely found any chance to fight back. Not satisfied with the beating, the bandits kicked him off the mountainside for good measure.

In this kind of situation, if it were in the hands of some skilled storyteller, nine times out of ten the plot would go: the fallen young master, having narrowly escaped death, is rescued by a hidden master and taught a lifetime of martial arts, or else he happens to be rescued by some family’s charming young lady and they fall into mutual affection from there. Unfortunately, he was indeed rescued—but not by a hidden master, nor by some beautiful young lady, but by a plump woman in her fifties.

That day, as luck would have it, he happened to tumble into her backyard at the foot of the mountain, crushing to death one of her hens that was just about to lay an egg.

The plump woman was heartbroken—though “rescue” might be putting it generously; more accurately, she simply couldn’t allow him to die, or who would compensate her for the hen?

Was there any demon unluckier than him?

There was no money to be had. No matter how hard the plump woman cried sitting on the ground, he had no money.

No money? The plump woman wiped her nose, stood up, and pointed at his nose. No money, then work it off!

With that, she looked him over from head to toe, finally settling on his face. “You’re decent-looking enough. From now on, you’ll come with me on marriage-escort work—when people ask, say you’re my nephew. That way, I can collect two shares of payment. It’s all mine, consider it your debt repayment for the hen!”

He, barely able to stand and walk, understood every word she said but couldn’t quite make sense of it—only that he’d crushed her hen, so he owed her, and had to pay it off before he could leave.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Auntie, but no killing or arson,” he said—after all, he’d come down from Heaven, and even on Mount Guguan, their kind had spent their years dormant beneath the ice and snow, no different from a plant, never doing harm.

The plump woman rolled her eyes. “Marriage-escorting, that’s all—who said anything about killing!”

“Marriage-escorting? What kind of business is that?”

“Even after a betrothal is settled, sometimes one side backs out halfway—the man won’t marry, or the woman won’t wed. If both families insist the marriage must go through no matter what, that’s when they need someone to escort the marriage through.” She patted her chest proudly. “I’ve done this line of work over thirty years. Every marriage I’ve escorted, none has ever failed.”

He suddenly found this interesting—so beyond the seventy-two conventional trades in the human world, there existed such an occupation too.

So he settled down there. The plump woman’s surname was Hong, and she told him to call her Auntie Hong. When she asked his name, he thought for a moment and said his surname was Hong too, given name Sheng, a single character. Auntie Hong laughed, saying what a coincidence, and that from now on he’d do whatever she said, and once he’d worked off the debt for the hen, he could go wherever he pleased.

So it was settled.

He’d imagined all sorts of new lives in the mortal world, but never once imagined he’d inexplicably become a “marriage escort,” his path ahead being not the perilous world of martial arts, nor the ordinary life of the marketplace, but wedding after wedding with blazing red candles and dazzling bridal finery.

Pitiful him—he hadn’t even figured out what it meant to like someone, yet here he was, following Auntie Hong day after day to one troubled wedding after another.

It turned out that cases where one side backed out midway, or one party never intended to go through with the betrothal at all, were quite common—either the groom found the bride not pretty enough, or the bride’s heart belonged to someone else, or someone insisted on becoming a particular family’s son-in-law or daughter-in-law against all reason. But whoever sought out Auntie Hong, no matter how difficult the situation, it would work out smoothly in the end.

Having accompanied her many times, he discovered Auntie Hong’s method was fairly consistent: first she’d have the client provide the birth charts of both the man and woman, examine them, then burn them in a bowl, muttering incantations mysteriously. Finally, she’d take a small pinch of what looked like salt from a small lacquered wooden box, sprinkle it in, add half a bowl of water, then divide the mixture into two bottles, telling the client to find some way to get the bride and groom to drink them.

Strangely enough, once this method was used, no matter how firmly resolved the parties had been against the marriage, their hearts would turn. Though they might not exactly beam with joy accepting the match, they’d stop objecting too, as if they’d suddenly resigned themselves to fate, and the ceremony would proceed smoothly. This was always Auntie Hong’s happiest moment—even alone, her fees had always been generous, and now with a “nephew” added, though all he did was assist and put on a show of guarding her during her “incantation-chanting” performances, others regarded them as impressive figures, and the fees were naturally prepared accordingly.

Time flew by, and before he knew it, he’d been with Auntie Hong for over two years. Through summer and winter, he’d helped “escort” at least several dozen weddings, growing increasingly skilled at the performance. Auntie Hong treated him well—though sharp-tongued and rough in manner, she’d still carefully pick out the best styles when buying him clothes at market, as if for her own son. Sometimes, dissatisfied with the sturdiness of shoes sold in the market, she’d spend several nights by lamplight making him shoes herself—not as good-looking as store-bought ones, perhaps, but genuinely sturdy. At the Lantern Festival she’d personally cook him a bowl of tangyuan, always claiming she’d made too many and was just sharing the extra, though the filling was always the brown sugar and osmanthus flavor he loved. Only, she never gave him money—no matter how generous the fee, she never shared it.

Sometimes he thought, surely the debt for that hen had long since been paid off. Yet he never brought up leaving either. Having grown used to living at Auntie Hong’s, every piece of furniture, including the bed he slept in, even every plant and animal in the yard, had planted deep feelings of attachment in him. He’d never thought about what life would be like after leaving—compared to his frozen homeland, and Heaven, which was always ready to throw him into the furnace, this place was good. Why would he leave?

Aside from her fondness for money and wine, Auntie Hong had no real faults.

More than once he’d seen her, late at night, hugging a wine jug asleep on the bamboo lounge chair in the yard, gazing at the sky while drinking—few women had her capacity for liquor. But once or twice he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, because he’d glimpsed something glistening at the corner of Auntie Hong’s eye. Was she crying? But someone as “robust” as her—shouldn’t she be the type least likely to have anything to do with tears?

He never asked, knowing that even if he did, she likely wouldn’t answer. Having been in the mortal world this long, he’d come to understand one of humanity’s habits: dissolving things they wouldn’t speak of into dreams or wine in the dead of night.

He didn’t drink, finding it unpalatable; his nights belonged entirely to a warm, cozy blanket, and when he wasn’t having nightmares, nothing was more comfortable than sleeping through until dawn like a well-fed pig.

Still, he’d wondered what remarkable skill Auntie Hong used to make all those lovesick, resentful young men and women marry successfully, and what exactly that salt-like powder in her little box was made of, but Auntie Hong guarded that secret like a thief guarding stolen goods, never revealing a word.

Perhaps she feared he’d learn the trick and set up his own competing business?

Still, it didn’t matter—he only wanted a stable, peaceful life. Most demons forced from their homelands wanted nothing more than that; few of them harbored ambitions of cultivating to the peak and dominating the three realms. Like most ordinary people in the world, they simply didn’t want to drift and wander, seeking only a place to settle their hearts and live out the rest of their days—never again returning to a past of being opposed, despised, and disposed of at will.

But unexpectedly, he was still disdained in the end.

Su Sheng disdained him most of all.

Su Sheng was more or less his neighbor, living at the foot of the northern mountains not far from Auntie Hong’s home, somewhat grander than Auntie Hong’s place, with a plaque hanging over the gate reading “Zhenting Escort Agency.” It sounded impressive, but in reality few clients came seeking their services, and the place was often deserted, forcing Su Sheng to frequently take her few remaining escort guards to earn money doing manual labor like house repairs and bridge building.

He’d heard that Zhenting Escort Agency had once been prosperous, back when Su Sheng’s father was still alive. After his death, the agency passed to Su Sheng’s hands. Su Sheng’s original name wasn’t this—she’d been called Su Shengxue. Yes, she was a woman. After taking over the agency, she’d dropped the “Xue” character, saying it was simpler to say.

But even though her name now sounded like a man’s, worldly prejudice still pushed her into an awkward position—few people were willing to trust their goods to a female escort chief, however sincere and courageous she appeared. The consequence was that old clients left one by one, new clients seldom dared approach out of caution, and the escort guards below her, forced by livelihood concerns, gradually left too. What remained now was mostly the uncles and elders who’d followed the Su family for years and had watched her grow up, unwilling to leave. But going on like this, the agency’s collapse seemed only a matter of time.

All this he’d learned from Auntie Hong’s idle chatter, since Su Sheng and her subordinates always passed by Auntie Hong’s home whenever they went out for jobs. Every time, Auntie Hong would watch their retreating figures and shake her head, saying what a shame such a good girl insisted on doing such work—anyone who advised her to give up the family business and find herself a good husband to rely on would get scolded to no end. Heaven only knew if this girl was raised on iron, insisting on holding up a business that couldn’t possibly be salvaged.

She thought Su Sheng had something wrong with her; Su Sheng, in turn, clearly disliked them too. Every time she passed by, whenever their eyes met, he always caught her disdainful gaze, or her deliberately averted face as if she couldn’t be bothered to look at them—he never knew why. When he asked Auntie Hong, she said that in Su Sheng’s eyes, their escort agency did legitimate business, so naturally she looked down on people like them who took the crooked path, making money by facilitating marriages—she thought what they did wasn’t a proper trade at all.

Thinking about it, that was probably indeed the reason—after all, among the seventy-two conventional trades, “marriage escort” had never been one of them.

If Auntie Hong hadn’t sent him to buy wine at the market that day, perhaps his interactions with Su Sheng would have remained limited forever to that single proud, disdainful glance whenever she passed by.

It was chilly and raining that day, colorful paper umbrellas moving fast and slow through the rain. He held an umbrella in one hand, Auntie Hong’s wine jug in the other, wanting only to hurry home—the ground was flooded with puddles, and look, the shoes he’d just washed the day before yesterday were ruined again. Just as he looked up, he saw a slender figure cut through the rain not far away. It was a spacious shopfront piled with all kinds of goods, clearly doing brisk business. Su Sheng had been pushed straight out the door. Fortunately she had some martial training and managed to steady herself, but the neatly wrapped gifts thrown out after her landed in a puddle, soaked through in an instant.

“Master Liu, I’m truly sincere—hand your goods to us and we guarantee absolutely nothing will go wrong. I only ask you give us a chance! I’ll charge only half of what other agencies charge!”

He was used to seeing her walk past his house with a touch of arrogance, but he’d never seen her wear such a forced smile, humbling herself to please others despite this extremely rude treatment.

“I’ve said we don’t need your agency, and told you not to come back again—and don’t bring me these worthless trinkets either.” Two men stood under the eaves. The middle-aged man in the lead was fat as a risen bun, his expensive silk robe looking ready to burst at any moment. Beside him, an obsequious young servant, finding his own moment to feel superior in her presence, joined his master in scolding her: “You should see what state your agency’s in these days. You should see who you even are—who would hire a woman to escort goods! It’d be a laughingstock if word got out!”

She clenched her fists, rainwater streaming down every strand of her hair, but still forced a smile as she bowed to the fat man. “Please, in consideration of my late father, give us a chance, we’ll surely—”

“If not for your father’s sake, you wouldn’t even have gotten an audience with me.” The fat man cut her off impatiently, his small eyes sweeping over her repeatedly, sneering. “You’re decent-looking enough—let me point you toward a better path. Go home, disband your agency quickly, and before you’re too old to be wanted, find yourself a husband to marry. Being a woman, why keep meddling in men’s affairs? Keep this up and you’ll end up alone and destitute, dying in the streets—a fate you can’t afford.” As he spoke, a lascivious grin spread across his face. “I’ve actually been thinking of taking a concubine lately. Given my old friendship with your father, why don’t…”

“Farewell!” She could no longer force a smile, and swept away.

The rain grew heavier. She didn’t use an umbrella, walking fast, paying no attention to whatever obstacles lay ahead.

“Heavy rain—watch your step.” As she brushed past him, he timed it to extend his arm in front of her. “Take the umbrella.”

Only then did she notice his presence, but without even glancing at him, she pushed away his kindness. “No need.” Then she resolutely walked around him and simply ran off, quickly disappearing into the rain-soaked street.

He didn’t chase her, knowing he couldn’t catch up, and instead turned back to the shopfront, snatching up the gifts lying in the water, shaking them off, and carefully tucking them under his umbrella, before walking away quickly under the fat man and his servant’s puzzled stares.

He’d thought he’d have to go all the way to her home to return them, but he ran into her halfway there instead.

It was on the mountain path that both their homes shared, where there was a hollow where wildflowers bloomed year-round, even in winter, though in winter fewer flowers bloomed, and all in a single color—white—looking from a distance like scattered snow. He couldn’t say what species they were, only that they were stubborn enough not to rest even in winter.

She sat alone on a large rock in front of the hollow, staring blankly ahead.

The rain had stopped, but she still looked like a drenched cat.

He walked to a few steps away and said quietly, “Chief Escort Su, you should hurry home and change out of those wet clothes. It’s cold—you’ll get sick like this.”

She startled slightly, then said without turning her head, “I see you have wine in hand?”

“I do!” He immediately handed over the jug. “Want some? Right, wine wards off the cold—drink a couple mouthfuls to chase away the chill.”

She grabbed the jug without hesitation and took a huge gulp, then promptly spat out most of what she’d swallowed, coughing until tears came to her eyes, sticking out her tongue as she said, “So… so spicy…”

“So you don’t actually drink.” He was amused by her reaction.

The jug was tossed back to him. She wiped her mouth, saying self-mockingly, “So I don’t even qualify to drown my sorrows in wine. Forget it, might as well not drink.”

“You looked really cute choking on that wine, haha—totally different from your usual self.” He didn’t quite know why he’d suddenly said that, but he just felt her expression just now was no different from any petulant little girl’s.

Her face reddened slightly, probably from the choking, and she said without good humor, “I’m the same person now as I always am. Escort guards don’t have room for being cute or not.”

“True enough. If an escort guard were too cute, bandits might just kidnap her along with the goods to make her their bandit wife.” He thought about it seriously. “You really shouldn’t drink anymore going forward.”

“I’ll learn to.” She glared at him. “How can you make your way in the world without any tolerance for drink at all.”

“Determined to hold onto the family business?” he asked, sighing softly. “As you’ve seen, the road ahead isn’t friendly.”

She paused, then suddenly laughed and said, “My father wasn’t like other people—having only one daughter never disappointed him in the least. He taught me martial arts himself, but also found me an embroidery teacher, and never neglected my education in reading and writing either. Some people said my father was going out of his way for nothing—a daughter would marry eventually anyway, wouldn’t a little needlework be enough? Why bother so much?” She looked at him. “Do you know what my father said?”

He shook his head.

“He said, it’s just like escorting goods—our only goal is to ensure the cargo arrives safely the whole way. A daughter is the same—as long as she can grow up safely, my goal is achieved. What path she takes afterward depends on her own will, not on her gender.” The gathering dusk melted into her gaze. “Others assumed my father must have died gloriously—escort guards, after all, live by the sword and face danger constantly, bloodshed is inevitable. But he didn’t die fighting bandits, nor was he ambushed by some enemy he’d offended. He simply wore himself down over years of constant travel and exhaustion, and it caught up with him. In this business, he always said, better early than late—not only did the goods need to arrive safely, but he had to keep the clients’ urgency in mind too, so that even if the sky rained knives, the schedule couldn’t be delayed. In all his years as escort chief, not a single job he took was ever late, and his accounts were kept meticulously clear—he took exactly what fee was due, not a cent more, not a cent less.” She smiled. “As an escort, my father’s life was actually quite unremarkable—there weren’t many dazzling moments worth telling stories about. But Zhenting Escort Agency’s reputation was solid—clients had nothing but praise, one word above all: reliability. I think, as long as the agency still stands, my father’s goodness lives on. I fight so hard against everything trying to stop me—I don’t even know who I’m competing with anymore, but it’s what I choose to do. I simply can’t separate myself from my family’s agency. I feel like as long as I keep fighting, Zhenting Escort Agency won’t fall.”

She probably hadn’t spoken this much, this long, to anyone in a very long while—every word seemed to have been held back in her heart for ages.

He listened quietly, thought for a moment, and said, “Should we go burn some incense at the temple, pray to the gods for your agency’s prosperity?”

She laughed out loud, glaring at him. “I thought you’d have some brilliant piece of advice for me.” She took a deep breath and stood up. “If this household won’t take us on, there’s the next one. If Master Liu won’t do it, there’s still Zhao, Qian, Sun, Li. I’ll go find them one by one—there’s got to be a chance somewhere.”

“Then… good luck!” He looked her over. That fat Master Liu had actually gotten one thing right—though she never dressed like a proper young lady, she was, after all, not an unattractive girl. Her features weren’t striking enough to dazzle a crowd, but her gaze was always remarkably resolute, even her disdainful looks carried an open, upright quality. Though they weren’t particularly close, words like “alone and destitute, dying in the streets” really shouldn’t apply to a girl like her. He couldn’t help adding, “If you ever find someone you love, whether he’s willing or not, as long as you like him, I guarantee I’ll bring him right to you, never to be parted in this lifetime.”

Hearing this, she frowned, saying with disdain, “Don’t try that marriage-escort trick of yours on me. Honestly, I don’t think much of your profession—marriage should be a matter of free will, and you all force men and women together and profit off it. It’s just not right.”

He scratched his head, embarrassed. “I meant well.”

“No need.” She snorted and turned to leave, tossing one more sentence over her shoulder as she went. “If there’s ever anything you need that you can’t find around here, just say the word—if I’m out on a job elsewhere, I can bring it back for you.”

He froze for a moment. Did that mean she didn’t actually dislike him that much?

“Hey, hey, your gifts! Don’t waste what I picked up for you!”

“Keep them, they’re yours.”

Her voice, drifting back from a distance, sounded like it had regained its strength.

Auntie Hong still rolled her eyes and made faces behind Su Sheng’s back, always saying “you’ll see, you’ll see, Zhenting Escort Agency won’t last much longer—can’t even feed themselves and still too proud to accept help.” But he only smiled, thinking a girl who could be both proud and humble surely wouldn’t go hungry.

Without quite noticing, another two or three years passed. Zhenting Escort Agency didn’t collapse—not only could they now feed themselves, business gradually picked up. Where once only ants had crawled past the empty gate, now clients crowded the entrance regularly, people and horses coming and going, bustling with activity. Everyone called her “Chief Escort” with genuine respect, entrusting their goods to Su Sheng without a second thought, the only topics of discussion being delivery schedules and fees—whether the escort chief was male or female no longer mattered. Not important at all.

Su Sheng was deeply grateful to Boss Qin of the Dafeng Trading House, an old acquaintance of her father’s. Two years earlier, when she’d first approached him, he’d had doubts about her, but eventually, worn down by her repeated pleading and assurances, he’d agreed to entrust a batch of jade to their agency for delivery. But he’d made things clear: the recipients lived in a remote, treacherous region, the roads were notoriously difficult, and the mountain bandits there were famously vicious. The shipment wasn’t large and the fee wasn’t much, which was why no one else wanted the job. If Zhenting Escort Agency really was as reliable as she claimed and could deliver the goods safely, then afterward, just as in her father’s time, he’d make them his first choice for future shipments. But if she failed, she’d owe double compensation for any losses; if anything happened along the way—broken limbs or even death—that would be on her.

She agreed without hesitation, never once suspecting this might actually be Boss Qin’s way of giving her an easy excuse to back out. Instead, she treasured it as a golden opportunity. The elders at the agency were initially strongly against it, saying it wasn’t worth it, saying Boss Qin clearly wasn’t trying to help her but rather trying to hurt her—they’d heard of that region, nine out of ten escorts refused to go there.

She only laughed and said, then Zhenting Escort Agency would be the remaining tenth.

Before leaving, she specifically came to find him, saying the place she was headed to was far away, passing through many interesting cities along the way, and asked if there was anything he wanted her to bring back.

“Really nothing you want me to bring?” She stood outside the fence of his yard, not coming in, looking ready to leave at any moment.

He shook his head, saying, “That place is pretty far, isn’t it? I heard the roads are difficult too, and the bandits are fierce.” He paused. “Do you really have to go?”

“I really have to go.” She shrugged. “Whether the agency survives depends on this one trip. I know Boss Qin is deliberately making it hard for me, but the harder he makes it, the less I want to back down. I’ve made up my mind—worst case, it costs me my life.”

“You might also get kidnapped and made into a bandit wife…” he added sincerely, listing another kind of danger for her.

She laughed loudly. “Then it’ll be whoever kidnapped me who loses their life.”

“Maybe you should still—” He’d meant to say maybe she shouldn’t go after all, but seeing her eyes, what came out instead was, “Still, travel safely!”

“Understood.” She lifted her chin. “As long as this shipment doesn’t part ways with me, there’ll be a path forward.”

Moonlight fell on her head, peaceful, almost like a protective halo.

“Take care.”

“Mm.”

Three months later, she returned safely, thinner but otherwise well.

Boss Qin was astonished, because the result was completely beyond his expectations—he’d never imagined this young girl would not only succeed but return unscathed. Faced with proof she’d risked her life to obtain, he kept his word—the trading house’s shipping business would soon be more than she could handle. When he paid her, Boss Qin said only, “You really are your father’s daughter.” She replied, “Of course I am, who else would I take after.”

During the months she was gone, he’d developed the habit of glancing toward the road she’d return by every day. He wouldn’t say he’d been especially worried—he’d just always felt a girl like her would come back safely.

So, when he and Auntie Hong returned from a job at someone’s house that day and saw her standing at the gate from a distance, his heart felt only an expected calm—something like, oh look, she’s back after all.

She held a live duck in her hand, quacking loudly.

“Bought it along the way,” she admitted frankly. “Figured coming back from so far, I should bring something for the neighbors. You raise chickens too, might as well add a duck for more company.”

Auntie Hong, who privately disliked her in every way, still broke into a beaming smile the moment there was a gift to receive, quickly taking the duck and thanking her.

“I’m off.” She casually patted his shoulder, saying with some pride, “If you two ever switch to a different line of work with something to ship, come find me. Zhenting Escort Agency isn’t going anywhere now.” As she said this, she shot Auntie Hong a pointed glance, having clearly heard about all those pessimistic remarks before.

Struck by her pat, his body sank unnaturally, as if she’d hit a sore spot, and he frowned, then rubbed his shoulder as if to massage it, saying awkwardly, “Fell down a few days ago, twisted my shoulder.”

She snorted. “Useless.”

He laughed sheepishly.

Over the following years, their relationship naturally warmed considerably. Though she still looked down on their trade, she’d grown much friendlier toward him as a person, at least treating him like a normal neighbor. When she passed by on her way back from an escort job and happened to have something suitable as a gift, she’d give him a bit of it—so over the years, besides that duck, he received dried goods, fabric, preserved fruits, puzzle rings, and other things, heaven knew where she found so many different odds and ends. He sometimes wondered why she’d taken a liking to him at all, since he hadn’t done anything particularly worthy of it, but receiving gifts was always a happy thing regardless. A few years of hardship, perhaps by heaven’s favor or natural constitution, hadn’t worn her down into some dark, sturdy, masculine-looking woman—she remained true to her name, skin fair as snow, features elegant, only growing more spirited and dashing with time, needing no rouge or powder to draw attention. He always made a point of watching until he could no longer see her figure walking away before turning back, feeling a small pang of loss, and looking forward, in his own small way, to her next return. Once, in a hazy dream, what he saw was no longer the roaring furnace but bright red bridal robes—though the face beneath those robes remained unclear, and upon waking he didn’t know who it had been, though it might have been her.

He wanted to have more dreams like that—if the person in the dream really was her, that would be interesting, because in all his time in the mortal world, she was the first person to ever appear in his dreams. Not even Auntie Hong had earned that distinction. But before he could dream again, even sleep itself became difficult.

Something had happened to Auntie Hong.

Just the night before, they’d finished dinner as usual, Auntie Hong sitting in the yard sipping tea and picking her teeth as always, while he washed dishes, wiped the table, and swept the floor. When he came out of the kitchen wiping his hands, he found a small wooden box sitting in the middle of the table. Auntie Hong sat beside it, tapped the box, and said, “This is yours.”

Puzzled, he opened it to find several gleaming gold bars inside.

“This is the payment you’ve earned over the years—I’ve been saving it up for you, converted into gold bars so it’s easier to carry,” Auntie Hong said matter-of-factly.

He stared at this “windfall from the sky,” bewildered. “I don’t need money.”

Auntie Hong laughed. “Of course you don’t need it now, eating my food, living under my roof. But going forward, you won’t be able to. Better to have some money on hand.”

He had no interest in gold at all, but every word Auntie Hong said carried an unsettling weight.

“Going forward I won’t be able to eat your food, live under your roof anymore?” He stared at her face, trying to catch some sign she was joking.

“No, you won’t,” she answered decisively. “Take the gold, pack your things, and leave tomorrow. Doesn’t matter where—Luoyang isn’t bad, a place with more people is safer.”

He was thoroughly confused. “Why do you want me to leave? Did I offend you somehow?”

Auntie Hong shook her head, smiling. “Though you’re not a particularly outstanding nephew, you’ve never offended me.” She paused, then looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “If you don’t want to be captured and dragged back to Heaven, do as I say and go far, far away.”

His heart lurched, and he sat down hard on a stool.

Auntie Hong, seeing his suddenly ashen face, smiled. “Did you think I kept you around just so you could pay off a chicken debt?” She laughed, sighing. “I knew what you were the very first time I saw you. Your surname is Hong, and mine is Hong too—seems we both had the same idea, unwilling to give up our original color even after coming to the mortal world.”

“You… you are…” He frantically, wildly ran back through every detail of their time together, yet couldn’t find a single suspicious thing.

“I am Jiang Jun, also an Old Man’s red string.” As she spoke, her body went limp and slumped down, and a thin crimson thread slowly emerged from within it, floating before him. “This body was made of clay—could’ve been prettier, honestly, but clay’s hard to work with, so this is what came of the effort. Your body looks a lot smoother and finer. Not made of clay, is it?”

“Flour…” he answered slowly.

“No wonder… you clever thing, using flour of all things—no wonder it turned out so pale and nice-looking.” She twisted her body regretfully. “I heard every red string ever refined from Jiang Jun was destroyed. You must be the one who escaped from that batch, aren’t you.”

He froze for a good while before nodding. “You didn’t escape at that time?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I was from the first batch the Old Man refined into red string, came to the mortal world long before you did. My skills are far beyond yours too.”

“Did you escape too?” he asked.

“More or less.” She settled onto the table. “I didn’t want to be the Old Man’s tool for controlling others—I wanted a good life of my own. Lucky I escaped early.”

He fell silent for a moment, then said, “I never had thoughts like yours from the start. If I hadn’t been about to be thrown into the furnace, I wouldn’t have run at all.”

“Most of us from our kind are the same as you—from our homeland to Heaven, from demon Jiang Jun to the Old Man’s red string, not a single step was ever our own choice, and yet somehow we all just accepted this tedious fate, bearing the name of a divine object of Heaven while accompanying pair after pair of loving—or unwilling—men and women in the mortal world until death.” She seemed to strike a rather proud pose. “I should be the first Jiang Jun to break this pattern.” She looked at him, smiling. “You’re not too late either. Any later, though, and it would’ve been. Once you’re in the furnace, it’s as if you’d never been born at all.”

He frowned deeply, suddenly understanding something. “No wonder you had a way to make those men and women marry successfully so smoothly… was it some extraordinary technique only Jiang Jun could cultivate?”

She swayed the end of her body. “Take a closer look.”

He leaned in and saw the end of the crimson thread was jagged, uneven, showing signs of having been torn off repeatedly. He understood at once.

“There’s no extraordinary technique to it. Just sacrificing a little of one’s own body, bit by bit. You know our greatest gift as Jiang Jun—unmatched adhesiveness under heaven. You already know this ‘adhesiveness’ goes beyond what ordinary people understand by the word—once we choose to, whatever we bind together will never separate.” She drifted slowly back into her body, and the Auntie Hong on the ground let out a breath and slowly sat up. “That ‘salt’ in the little box is enough to bind an ordinary human couple’s marriage together forever. After all, we’re not merely Jiang Jun anymore—we’ve also been refined with the Old Man’s immortal essence.”

Watching Auntie Hong “come back to life,” he only felt a chill run down his spine, as if he were meeting her for the first time today.

“You’re in trouble?” he asked.

“Mm.” She shrugged indifferently, as if she’d anticipated everything. “Once you dare to secretly play ‘Old Man’ in the shadows, you have to be prepared for the day you’re exposed and dragged back to Heaven. Thirty-odd years of good food and drink—that’s enough.”

“Why keep doing marriage-escort work even down here in the mortal world?” he didn’t understand.

She laughed. “I’m just a demon who escaped from Heaven, not some god come down to bless the world. If you want to live well in the mortal realm, you have to work, you have to earn money. I don’t have any other skills—this trade is convenient and pays well, do I have a better option? You’re still too young, you haven’t had time to experience the hardships of mortal life yet.”

He frowned, feeling something was wrong with what she said, but couldn’t find the perfect rebuttal.

“Go on now, our aunt-nephew bond ends today.” She pushed the box firmly toward him. “Lord Thunder’s people said they’ll come for me in a month—you still have plenty of time to get far away from me. Remember, protect your body well, don’t use it carelessly. Every time you use it, a bit of your demonic energy leaks out, and sooner or later Lord Thunder’s watchers will notice. If you’re caught again, you won’t be as lucky to escape a second time.”

He didn’t move, didn’t reach for the box.

“Won’t I see you again?”

“If we meet again, it means your time’s up too. You’ve made it this far against the odds—try to live on. Maybe you’ll have a different life than mine.”

Auntie Hong poured herself a cup of tea, drank it, and said, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Auntie!” he suddenly called out to her. “Why did you secretly cry, sometimes? I’ve seen it a few times.”

She stopped, not turning around, her hand still on the curtain of her bedroom door, not lowering it.

“I can bind the marriages of every man and woman under heaven for a lifetime, yet I can’t bind the one person I wanted for my own life.” She seemed to be smiling, her shoulders trembling slightly. “Isn’t it funny—the Old Man’s red string that brings together couples throughout the world, and my own fate is to be alone until death.”

The curtain fell, and her figure vanished behind it.

He stood there, mouth slightly open, his eyes full of the same bewilderment he’d had when he first fled to the mortal world.

Another night of nightmares. Sleep was impossible after that.

At dawn, he left. Years of memories fit into a single small bundle.

In truth, he was fleeing again too—to say he wasn’t afraid would be a lie. Everyone knew what fate awaited a criminal caught by Lord Thunder—it could well be worse than being thrown into the furnace.

He didn’t even say goodbye to Su Sheng. Fleeing for his life wasn’t something to announce.

Taking Auntie Hong’s advice, he went to Luoyang, found lodging on the outskirts, grew vegetables, raised chickens, and lived quietly, occasionally having to turn away matchmakers who’d heard of him—after all, in that area, he was probably the most handsome eligible young man around, and quite a few unmarried girls nearby had taken a liking to him, with food or clothes or shoes mysteriously appearing at his door from time to time, leaving him not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Yet even a year of peace and quiet couldn’t fully erase his lingering thoughts of those other two people. In his second year in Luoyang, despite the unease and faint fear in his heart, he finally returned to that familiar foot of the mountain.

Auntie Hong’s house stood empty, the flowers she’d planted withered, the chickens and ducks gone, the house inside and out desolate.

As expected.

Passing by the Su household, the gate was as bustling as ever—he heard Su Sheng’s reputation had grown, business booming.

He only paused briefly outside her gate, looking at the gleaming “Zhenting Escort Agency” plaque, then walked away steadily.

From then on, he made it a habit to secretly return every year at year’s end, just to look, nothing more.

Auntie Hong’s house remained vacant, and this year, for whatever reason, he found himself moved to slip inside at night, looking around the room, sitting for a while at the dust-covered dining table, going over to touch the flowerpots he’d once watered countless times. Though everything had changed and the person was gone, his heart felt strangely at peace. Turning his head, he saw the moonlight, silver and bright, slanting through the broken window, casting strange-shaped shadows on the floor. He looked up closely and saw someone had hung several paper cranes from the window frame with thin string, swaying in the wind, old and new mixed together, with faint characters visible on them.

He took down the paper cranes one by one and unfolded them—sure enough, they were letters.

“It’s been a year, still no word from you. Your aunt said you went to visit relatives out of town, but later even she disappeared. Are you two, aunt and nephew, off somewhere swindling free meals?”

“Two years. Are you dead, or are you dead? Saying goodbye before leaving is basic courtesy—you really have no manners.”

“Three years. If you come back, find me right away, I’ve got something fun for you.”

“Four years. I’m not looking for you anymore.”

“Five years. I’ve found someone I want to marry. Will you come drink my wedding wine!”

His hand holding the letters trembled slightly, yet his heart felt strangely relieved.

So it had already been five years. He looked at the most recent letter, reading the date and location over and over.

Had he wasted another five years too? In Luoyang, he hadn’t done any work related to marriage-escorting again—though his skill fell short of Auntie Hong’s, matching her wouldn’t have been hard, since all it required was sacrificing his own body. But he didn’t want to. Not at all. Maybe he was still too timid, afraid of revealing his demonic energy and bringing trouble.

Five years passed, and he lived as a farmer, gardener, and mason, his neighbors regarding him as a hardworking, honest, and good-looking young man. He’d once fallen for a girl whose sword-wielding manner reminded him strongly of Su Sheng, and the girl seemed to have feelings for him too, but before anything could be spoken between them, her family suffered a sudden misfortune and moved south, never to be seen again. The girl he’d met last year was similar—just as they were beginning to develop feelings for each other, she fell gravely ill. The more he visited and worried over her, the sicker she seemed to get. Sensing something was wrong, he cut off his feelings for her, and her condition quickly improved. It was then he finally understood why Auntie Hong had cried, why she’d been so obsessed with binding others together. Some people, unable to have something themselves, wanted the whole world to lose it too; others, unable to have something themselves, hoped no one else would lose it either. Whether Auntie Hong’s actions had been right or wrong was hard to judge.

The wedding wine had to be drunk.

Just the timing wasn’t quite right.

Because he’d finally been discovered too, though he never learned how his presence had been detected despite living so cautiously all this time.

Fighting Lord Thunder head-on was impossible—there was absolutely no chance of winning.

The letters crumpled in his fist. He only wanted one more day.

“That’s the place?” Tao Yao gestured with her chin toward a courtyard down the hillside, lights glowing and festive music playing, sniffing hard. “Even from this far I can smell the wine and meat. Weddings are great!”

He wasn’t paying attention to how good the food smelled, only studying the scale of the courtyard and its surroundings, murmuring, “Nice place. Looks like they’ve got money and status.”

It was indeed impressive—just the number and grandeur of the buildings alone made clear the owner was no ordinary person.

He let out a huge breath of relief.

“Come on, aren’t we here for the wedding wine?” Tao Yao tugged at him.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded.

His home was on the western outskirts of Luoyang, while the household holding the wedding feast tonight was several dozen li away in Apricot Blossom Valley in the eastern outskirts—this whole stretch of land likely belonged to this one family. The buildings were built against the mountainside, with a small artificial river in front, a boat moored at the bank, a stone bridge spanning it, and apricot groves surrounding everything on all sides—come spring, it would surely be a stunning view.

Right now, from the apricot trees along the path to the stone bridge to the front gate, everything was strung with festive lanterns and covered in double-happiness characters. Above the main gate hung a plaque reading, upright and proper, “Yu Residence,” while the servants who should have been greeting guests at the entrance were instead in a panic, crowded against the wall beside the gate, shouting up at the top of it.

He looked up to see a woman in full bridal red sitting atop the wall, still clutching a wine jug, drinking as she peered out into the distance.

Who else could it be but Su Sheng… Five years, and she hadn’t changed a bit. The bridal robes suited her beautifully, red against snow-white skin, and with that languid, faintly tipsy air about her, she looked even more charming and delicate than usual.

But wasn’t she getting married today? What was she doing up on the wall?

“Young mistress, please come down! It’ll be terrible if you fall! You’ve already climbed the wall several times today!” The servants below were nearly in tears.

“The higher you climb, the farther you can see!” She said this dismissively, taking another swig.

“Aiyo, please stop drinking! What exactly are you still looking for?” The servants pleaded while telling the maids nearby to hurry and fetch the young master, only to be told he’d been drinking contests with guests and was already dead drunk—the couple was equally reckless, it seemed.

“I still have an important guest who hasn’t arrived!” She pouted, saying angrily, “If he doesn’t come today, he must be dead!”

Seeing this, Tao Yao suppressed a laugh, pushing him forward while shouting loudly, “Not dead, not dead! He’s right here!”

Everyone turned to see a red-robed young man smiling awkwardly at them.

Su Sheng on the wall spotted him too, froze for a good while, then rubbed her eyes hard and shouted, “Is that really you?”

He looked up, smiling. “It’s me.”

Another burst of shrieking followed, and without even blinking, she jumped down, her flying skirts becoming a red cloud drifting down.

Landing steadily, she grinned like someone who’d just found money, rushing over to hug him tightly. “I thought you weren’t coming today!”

“I had to come—it’s your big day, after all.” His hand hesitated for a moment, then, like an old friend, gently patted her back.

She straightened up, her gaze falling on Tao Yao, looking her over. “Who’s this little girl?”

He stepped back, naturally taking Tao Yao’s hand, smiling. “My wife.”

Tao Yao coughed violently, secretly digging her nails into his hand, though her face remained unbothered, smiling sweetly. “Sorry, we’re a bit late.”

Su Sheng walked up to Tao Yao, circling around to examine her, finally staring intently at her face, asking, “You don’t look like a proper young lady from a household. What do you do?”

“Physician,” Tao Yao said, her eyes curving into crescents.

“Not bad!” Su Sheng slapped him on the shoulder. “Having a physician for a wife is even better. And you always seemed so slow-witted—didn’t expect you to actually win over such a nice girl!”

He smiled. “You’re not doing badly yourself, finally found a good match.”

“Guess so. Met him years ago on an escort job when some kidnappers tried to snatch him—useless with his fists, only good at composing poetry and writing essays. Oh, and running a business and making money. So boring.” She wore a look of disdain, prompting the servants nearby to quickly explain, “Our young master isn’t skilled in martial arts, but he’s extremely well-read and a gifted businessman.”

“Understood, understood, no need to explain further, everyone. Anyone who could win her hand can’t possibly be an ordinary person. We wouldn’t dream of looking down on your young master,” he said with a smile.

“Enough chatter! All of you, go back! No need to wait on us here!” She turned to glare at them, and the servants quickly retreated, apparently used to her bossing them around.

“Where have you been all these years?” She blinked, still faintly smelling of wine, her gaze at him stubborn and unfocused.

“Er… actually I was avoiding some debt,” he said, embarrassed. “Didn’t say goodbye because I didn’t want to cause you trouble.”

“Avoiding debt? Why didn’t you come find me! Is it resolved now?”

“All paid off, otherwise I wouldn’t dare show up so boldly to drink your wedding wine.”

“Good, then.” She smiled. “Come on, come inside with me, it’s lively in there, so many people have come!”

He glanced toward the gate, then smiled and shook his head. “My wife and I have some business to attend to, we won’t stay long.” As he spoke, he pulled out a small wooden box from his robes and placed it in her hands. “A wedding gift for you. Keep it safe—you might need it someday.”

She held the box, looking at him. “Leaving already? You haven’t even had the wedding wine!”

He smiled, took the wine jug from her hands, poured three mouthfuls into his own mouth, then looked at her steadily and said with a smile, “One cup wishes you a fine spouse. A second cup wishes you many children. A third cup wishes you lasting joy.” He handed the jug back to her, sticking out his tongue. “There, wedding wine drunk.”

She laughed, her eyes turning a little red. “Thank you for coming. Knowing you’re doing well puts my mind at ease too.”

“Saying I’m boring, but secretly you must actually like him a lot.” He gestured toward the gate again. “Knowing you’re happily married puts my mind at ease too.”

“Come in and sit a while before you go. He knows you’re my old friend, he’s been wanting to meet you for ages.” She didn’t want to let him go.

“We’ll meet again sometime, if there’s a chance.” He patted her head. “We should get going.”

Just as he turned to leave, he looked back again. “Back then I never did anything for you—why did you suddenly want to give me a gift?”

She paused, then smiled. “When everyone else was writing me off, you were the only one who called me Chief Escort.”

He froze slightly, then smiled. “Ah. Then I came out ahead.”

“That’s right.”

“Farewell then. Take care.”

Reunion and parting both came faster than expected. Walking out of Apricot Blossom Valley, he didn’t look back, his expression light and easy. Tao Yao secretly glanced back once—Su Sheng still stood there watching them go, the music from the wedding feast ringing especially clear in the night air.

Late that night, the newlywed couple still hadn’t gone to sleep.

“Young Master Hong came by?”

“Mm, brought his wife along. Left without even coming inside.”

“Why didn’t you keep him?”

“He had business to attend to. What good would it do to keep him? We’ll see him again sometime.”

“Mm, as long as he’s well.”

“Do you believe some people are your ill stars, and some are your lucky stars?”

“I do. Aren’t you my lucky star?”

“Get out! I nearly lost my life saving you back then! But… I really do think he’s my lucky star. Ever since he called me Chief Escort, somehow my luck’s been better. Remember that batch of jade I delivered for Boss Qin? We nearly lost it—the road was too dangerous, our whole horse caravan fell into rapids, we could barely save ourselves, let alone the cargo. At the time I thought it was truly over, the goods lost, the agency’s chances of recovery gone, might as well die. Then somehow, when we finally struggled ashore far downstream, that crate of jade turned up too, washed ashore right behind me. It’s unbelievable—how could something that heavy have been carried along by the current!”

“Maybe it got tangled in something. Waterweeds, perhaps.”

“Something that heavy, caught by mere waterweeds? Impossible.”

“Then maybe heaven just wasn’t ready to let you go.”

“Maybe my father was watching over me from above… Anyway, after so many years on the road, I’ve seen all kinds of strange things.”

“Mm, get some sleep, it’s been a long day. From now on you’ll have plenty of time to tell me about all the strange things you’ve encountered, and you won’t need to worry about the agency collapsing anymore—my business alone will keep you busy for a lifetime.”

“Did I ever say I needed your help?”

“I’m not asking for free, either.”

“Triple the usual rate!”

“…”

“Much obliged!” On the empty hillside, he bowed formally to Tao Yao, then pulled out a fist-sized cloth pouch and held it out. “As promised—half for her, half for you.”

Tao Yao took it, smiling, weighing the pouch in her hand, clicking her tongue in approval. “Good stuff. ‘Jiang Jun’s living body, harvested, forms itself into salt-like crystals—swallowed by a man and woman, it binds their fate together, inseparable for life, until death parts them.’ The Old Man really got himself a great bargain with you all—didn’t even need much divine art, just had to change your shape a bit, and every couple under heaven fell right into his grasp. Crafty old thing.”

“And yet I never once got to play a part in binding a man and woman’s marriage myself,” he said, standing up, laughing self-mockingly. “The one time in my life I used my own body for something, it was to secretly ‘bind’ her to that crate of jade.”

Tao Yao looked at the pouch in her hand. “Still hurt a bit, didn’t it?”

“Mm, hurt for half a year. My own body, after all—tearing off even a little bit hurts.” He unconsciously rubbed his shoulder. “I don’t know how Auntie Hong endured it. She used so much of herself, must have taken quite a toll of pain to bear.”

“Better to suffer in the mortal world than stay in Heaven—not sure who really needs to reflect here,” Tao Yao said, yawning, then asked, “One question, though. You Jiang Jun bind people’s marriages so they can’t be parted until one of them dies—but you bound her together with that crate of stone, which was meant to be delivered to someone else. Wouldn’t that mean the stone was bound to come back to her no matter what?”

He shook his head. “It’s different. If two living beings swallow it, yes, they truly can’t be parted except by death. But if one is a living being and the other is an object, then the moment the living one develops the intent to part from it, our adhesiveness disappears. So the moment Su Sheng happily handed over the jade, my influence was already gone.”

“You gave her a wedding gift too—did you teach her how to use it?” Tao Yao shook the pouch. “What if her husband someday has a change of heart and wants to leave her—do you think she’d put your body in water and make him drink it?”

He thought for a long while, then said, “I left instructions inside the box. I hope she never needs to use it.”

Tao Yao smiled. “If so, why leave it for her at all?”

“If I don’t leave it with her, this body of mine won’t last much longer anyway. Once I’m caught, I’ll die cleanly enough. Besides…” Moonlight fell into his eyes, revealing a trace of wistfulness he didn’t try to hide. “I still wanted to leave behind some trace that I’d once existed in this world. Otherwise, my whole life would’ve been too plain.” He turned his gaze to Tao Yao’s face, pointing at himself. “You’ve seen countless demons—which of them is more pathetic than me? A life without a single ripple to show for it. Running, hiding. When trouble came for Auntie Hong, all I could do was run again too. I can’t even fall in love with anyone, or it ends up like it did with Su Sheng and those other two girls—the moment feelings stir even slightly, separation is guaranteed. Tell me, is there a demon unluckier than that—capable of fulfilling others, yet always the opposite for myself.”

Tao Yao clicked her tongue, plucking a withered blade of grass from the ground. “I can treat sickness, but like this dried grass, born to sprout in spring and wither in winter—that’s just its nature, can’t be cured. So ‘pathetic’ isn’t quite the right word…” She turned to look down at the flickering lights of Apricot Blossom Valley in the distance. “After all, it wasn’t just a crate of jade that fell into those rapids—it was an entire possible future for someone as unlucky as you, and you saved it for her. See? Rapids that violent, that dramatic—and you still say your life left no ripple at all?”

He turned her words over in his mind several times, then laughed. “You’re not quite what the stories say about you. You’re actually a very gentle person.”

“Whether I’m gentle depends on what you give me.” She grinned mischievously, carefully putting the pouch away, then held out her hand. “As usual—every demon I treat has to leave their mark, promise to be my medicine anytime.”

He placed his hand on hers. “But by dawn, I might not be here anymore.”

“What you’ve left me is enough.” Her eyes glinted slyly. “Not like I need to bind anyone’s marriage anyway, won’t need much.”

“Then what do you want to bind?”

“None of your business!”

However much they went back and forth, it couldn’t delay the moment of parting.

“I’m off! Squat wherever you like.” Tao Yao turned, waving at him, her steps light and quick, as if afraid he might change his mind and snatch back that pouch of “salt.”

He said nothing, watching her figure vanish into a night that felt more and more like a fading dream. There was no need to say they’d meet again—he knew he no longer had that right. But after walking this road with her, somehow his whole life didn’t feel so terrible after all.

He didn’t plan to go back either—there was nowhere left to return to anyway. He shook the dust from his robes and sat down cross-legged, facing the direction of Apricot Blossom Valley, his heart calm and still.

One cup wishes you a fine spouse. A second cup wishes you many children. A third cup wishes you lasting joy—he silently recited the words in his heart.

Whether he was reciting them for her, or for himself, or for Auntie Hong, who he’d never hear from again, who could say.

So life passed by this quickly after all. But at least he’d gotten to drink the wedding wine, and the person who deserved a good life was living one—thinking of it that way, somehow it didn’t feel so lonely after all.

From now on, whatever would be, would be.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

On the winding mountain path leading down, Tao Yao gradually slowed her pace.

She took out the cloth pouch and studied it for a long while, then looked up at the sky, her expression somewhere between a smile and not.