Prologue

Some shores, once left behind, can never be returned to.

Surprisingly, Young Master Liu didn’t end up incorporating the fish-sheep grass into his questionable cooking. Instead, he found a rather handsome box, carefully packed the grass away inside it, and hid it somewhere nobody could find. Gungun searched the whole kitchen and Young Master Liu’s room top to bottom and still never located this treasure of the culinary world.

That morning, as Tao Yao forced down a bowl of porridge with a faint whiff of scorching, she couldn’t help asking him, “You’ve already got the fish-sheep grass—your cooking could leap forward. Can’t you let us actually enjoy a meal?”

But Young Master Liu took a long while before answering: “Can’t bear to use it.”

Normally, saying something like that, he’d roll his eyes and act like feeding it to them would be a waste of a treasure. But this time he didn’t—his tone was strikingly ordinary.

It was the only thing left behind by a demon, after all—maybe that was what he couldn’t bear to part with.

In any case, once he’d said that, breakfast took on a faintly solemn, serious air. Though after that night, none of them ever mentioned that foolish little demon’s name again.

If they weren’t going to eat it, fine—since it was a keepsake, better to just put it away properly.

Only the whole household at the Si estate suffered for it, forced to choke down who knew how much more inedible food… Steward Miao, too—worst case, they could just hire another cook, and everyone would happily agree to banish Young Master Liu to laundry duty, sweeping, and childcare instead.

Though these past few days, Steward Miao seemed to be nowhere in sight—not even at mealtimes. In a place as sprawling as the Si estate, with so few people about, it always took a while to notice who was around and who wasn’t; even under one roof, you didn’t necessarily cross paths every day. Most of the people living in this house had little presence at all, save for the two young masters. The second young master kept a low profile, always deliberately reserved, preferring to read military texts alone in some quiet corner rather than bother with company—he spent more time talking to horses than to people most days. And yet, oddly enough, the more he withdrew from everyone, the more he drew attention—Tao Yao, at least, paid him no end of attention. As for the eldest young master, ever since his brother let him out of confinement, he’d been throwing himself into leisure nonstop—learning embroidery from the maids one day, organizing a lavish game of cuju among the household staff the next, though he rarely scored a goal and rather often kicked the ball straight into some unfortunate passerby. No sooner had he tired of that than he took up cricket-fighting, procuring some creature grandly nicknamed the “Invincible Golden-Armored General,” squatting there every day poking it with a cricket-teaser—the very picture of a wastrel young master from a wealthy household.

Whenever Tao Yao ran into Si Jingyuan, she made a point of slipping away early, not only because his various pointless pursuits held zero interest for her, but because she dreaded him cornering her with endless questions, insisting she recount everything that had happened to her before arriving in the capital, forever trying to dig up her background, claiming that whoever had rescued him couldn’t possibly be just a lowly stable hand.

Eventually, seeing that Tao Yao genuinely had no interest in humoring him, Si Jingyuan came up with a solution: as long as Tao Yao would keep him company and chat, he’d pay her regularly—sometimes loose silver, sometimes little gold beads, sometimes other treats or trinkets—until Tao Yao went from avoiding him at all costs to becoming Si Jingyuan’s closest confidante in the mortal world…

Sometimes Tao Yao genuinely couldn’t wrap her head around it—how could anyone be so lonely that he’d pay money just to have someone listen to him ramble? And this was someone who, by all appearances, had it quite good—a grand estate, never wanting for food or clothes, and a capable younger brother who could not only carry the family’s affairs but had literally saved his life. And though Si Kuanglan seemed to have little patience for his own brother, anyone with eyes could tell that, to him, there was probably nothing in this world more important than Si Jingyuan.

The weather wasn’t great today; servants throughout the Si estate were busy sweeping fallen leaves both inside and out. Judging by how bare the trees had grown across the grounds, autumn had reached its peak, and winter wasn’t far off.

But Tao Yao was in high spirits, because her monthly wages had come in higher than she’d expected—apparently every servant in the household had received an extra “winter clothing allowance,” and everyone treated it as perfectly ordinary. When it came to money, just as Steward Miao had said early on, the Si estate really was generous. Every so often, Tao Yao found herself thinking that if she could just hide out here forever, living quietly as a lowly stable hand, sheltered from life’s storms—that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad life at all. But of course, that was impossible; she wasn’t some ordinary girl you’d find on any street corner. She was the “Ghost Doctor of Tao Capital,” the golden-belled Lady Tao Yao, whose good and evil no one could quite pin down. Her life held far too much history that others couldn’t see, couldn’t even imagine. And worse still, the most important treasure of Tao Capital had gone missing while in her care… if word ever got out, the world would know no peace. Sigh—she sighed at the withered lotus pond before her.

Suddenly, a pear carved with a mischievous smiling face dropped down from above her head, dangling on a string, bouncing back and forth in front of her, accompanied by a nasal, put-on voice: “Want to eat me? Want to eat me?”

Without even turning around, Tao Yao grabbed the pear and bit off a huge chunk.

“Hey! You’re actually eating it!” Si Jingyuan leapt out from behind her, shouting. “I brought that as fish bait!”

Chewing away, Tao Yao said, “I already asked your fish for you. They wanted me to pass along two things: first, they don’t eat fruit; second, you should really take your medicine.”

Si Jingyuan stepped over the stone bench and sat down beside her, grinning. “Well now, can the little stable hand understand fish-speak too?”

She snorted. “Eldest Young Master, you really have too much time on your hands.”

He toyed with the loose end of string in his hand, unbothered. “Old Miao handles the household, the servants handle cleaning, Little Liu handles cooking, you handle the horses, Lanlan handles the money—really, there’s nothing left for me to do.”

“At least you’re honest about it.” She wiped her mouth. “Though I notice there’s one thing you’re quite invested in.”

“What?”

“Finding your Lanlan a wife,” Tao Yao said with a grin. “You’ve mentioned the Yue family’s eldest daughter more times than I can count.”

Si Jingyuan immediately deflated. “I really think she’d be a good match—family background, character, both suited to ours. And the crucial thing is, even a demon couldn’t kill her, so her birth data must be genuinely strong. But my stubborn brother won’t even write her a letter asking how she’s recovering.”

Tao Yao elbowed him. “Is Si Kuanglan really fated to bring misfortune on his wife?”

“Nonsense!” Si Jingyuan looked put out. “That’s just idle gossip going around out there. The Si estate’s second young master—plenty of girls would cry and beg to marry him.”

“You were literally just saying Yue Pingchuan’s birth data was ‘strong’!” Tao Yao rolled her eyes. “Only someone fated to bring misfortune on a wife would need to pick one with strong birth data!”

Si Jingyuan was momentarily at a loss, then immediately protested, “I mean my brother’s birth data is also strong, so from a metaphysical standpoint…”

“All right, all right, no need to keep covering.” Tao Yao cut him off, lowering her voice. “I heard that every girl ever betrothed to your Lanlan met a bad end. Was that a lie too? We’re sworn confidants now, don’t lie to me.”

Si Jingyuan tapped his fingers on the stone bench for a good while before finally nodding, resigned. “There were a couple of young ladies who did meet with misfortune, yes, but it might just be coincidence.” He stared at the wind-rippled surface of the pond. “All sad business, let’s not dwell on it. Anyway, he’s my only brother, and no matter what, I want to see him marry, have children, enjoy the full blessings of family life, and never be alone, right up to the end of his days.”

His expression was unusually earnest just then, nothing like his usual empty bluster—an unexpected flash of iron resolve that, for once, made him look every bit the Si family’s eldest young master.

“Why only him?” Tao Yao tossed the pear core into the pond; it landed with a small splash. “You should marry and have children too, carry on your own Si family line.”

He blinked, and the words slipped out before he could stop them: “I can’t. My body’s not fit for it.”

Tao Yao immediately looked him up and down. “Some hidden ailment?”

“What kind of look is that?” He deflected her wandering gaze with an even sharper one of his own. “What’s a young girl like you even thinking?”

Tao Yao pursed her lips. “I say ‘carry on the family line,’ you say ‘body’s not fit’—what else am I supposed to think?” Nothing to be embarrassed about, I’m a doctor, after all—not that I treat humans, but that particular ailment isn’t unheard of among demons either—she bit that last thought back before it slipped out.

“My body’s not fit in a different way than you’re thinking.” He shot her a look, glanced around to make sure no one was near, then fixed his eyes on hers. “Little Tao, I don’t know your background, and I don’t know your history, but we both know perfectly well that a mere stable hand couldn’t have possibly pulled me back from a Xuhao’s grip.”

Tao Yao rolled her eyes and grinned slyly. “And an ordinary wealthy young master couldn’t possibly have the skill to swap souls.”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, sparks all but flying, and just as the tension was about to break, they both broke into identical grins, slapped their thighs, pointed at each other, and said in perfect unison, “So we really should become sworn siblings!”

“Brother Jingyuan!”

“Sister Tao Yao!”

They got so worked up, you’d think they were long-lost siblings reunited after eight hundred years apart. Lucky no one was passing by, or these two oddballs would’ve given someone quite a fright.

“Big brother, from now on, whenever you’ve got good food or fun stuff or leftover money, think of your little sister!” This pond bears witness—our sibling bond is now official!”

“Don’t worry, with big brother around, you’ll never go hungry.”

“So what exactly is wrong with your body?” Tao Yao pivoted sharply, all her sweetness from a moment ago vanishing instantly into blunt, unprompted interrogation.

Si Jingyuan blinked, scratched his head, and laughed. “You really do change your face fast, girl.”

“Nobody gets around my questions. Not even sworn siblings.” She narrowed her eyes, grinning like a smug cat.

“Fine. You did save me, after all.” He turned his head, gaze drifting past the pond to somewhere unseen. “I’m what’s called a ‘half-lifer.'”

“Half-lifer?”

“When I was thirteen, I went through a disaster. I survived, but I came away with a strange affliction.” He stood, stretching and shaking out his limbs. “My soul can leave my own body, or enter someone else’s, entirely at will. And when I fall seriously ill, or take a particularly hard blow, it leaves whether I want it to or not. I sought out people to cure it, but nothing worked. One person told me I was what legend calls a ‘half-lifer.’ ‘Half-life’ is just a general term for people who look ordinary on the surface but actually exist in some other state entirely—technically, they only have half a life to their name.”

“Half-lifer…” Tao Yao raised an eyebrow. “But isn’t that rather impressive? Plenty of sorcerers spend a whole lifetime cultivating and never achieve that kind of freedom to come and go as they please. Just having your soul leave your body isn’t necessarily as dire as ‘only half a life.'”

“The problem is, the moment my soul leaves, strange things start gathering, eyeing my empty body.” He turned back to look at her. “Ever since I was thirteen, I’ve been a target for all sorts of demons and wandering spirits. Whenever my soul’s away, they show up.”

“Oh? That does change things.” Tao Yao said. “I know some small spirits without physical forms at all will try to squat in and possess an empty body to advance their own cultivation.”

“I never thought it was that big a deal, honestly.” He smiled. “It’s just Lanlan who thinks it’s serious. I remember once some other thing took over my body, and I couldn’t get back in for days—never did find out what kind of spirit it was, but it kept using my body to drink water, practically drained the whole creek dry, ha ha. Lanlan worked hard to chase the thing off and get me back. What’s the big deal, really—just someone squatting in your house for a few days.”

Tao Yao shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Someone squatting in your house for a few days is a small matter. Have you never considered what happens if you run into someone truly shameless, who not only moves in but changes the locks so you can never get back in at all? Or worse, gets annoyed one day and just destroys the house outright. You’re a living person, not like the dead—if you have no house of your own to return to while your soul drifts outside, over time you’ll only grow weaker and weaker. Have you ever considered ending up scattered to nothing?”

Si Jingyuan froze, thought it over for a long moment before finally speaking. “I honestly never thought about it that way.”

“Knowing you have this rotten condition, and you still dared use soul-swapping to save Yue Pingchuan—no wonder your Lanlan was so furious. Without a ‘house’ to protect you, you’re incredibly vulnerable. An ordinary person who dies at least leaves a body behind—if something happened to you in that state, there’d be nothing left at all.” She snorted, then asked, “He has a stringless zither, you know?”

“I know.” he said. “After that water-drinking incident, he found that thing from somewhere—a zither that, to ordinary people, makes no sound at all.” He laughed, self-deprecating. “And yet it can drive away a hundred demons, keeping me safe.”

“Where music unceasing plays, demonic evil cannot stray,” Tao Yao said with a smile. “Once the music starts, no demon can get near you, and it can pull your wandering soul back too. What a fine thing to have.”

“I’d rather say I have a fine brother.” He winked at her. “Even if he’s always snapping at me, forbidding me this and that, locking me up whenever he’s in a mood.”

“But you still hope for the day he has children filling his halls, happy to the end of his days.” Tao Yao looked up—right about now, Si Kuanglan was probably reading in Wangyuan as usual; she wondered if his ears were burning, seeing as two oddballs kept talking about him.

Si Jingyuan suddenly turned, pointing at himself. “Lanlan and I are twins, you know.”

Tao Yao blinked. “I don’t believe you. You look way older than him. And you two don’t even look alike!”

“Who told you twins have to look identical?” He touched his own face. “But we’re evenly matched when it comes to good looks. I’m not old, I just have a weathered soul. A little girl like you could never appreciate that kind of world-worn beauty! All you know is smooth skin and a pretty face, pfft.”

Tao Yao scratched her head, still half-doubting. “Really twins?”

“Do I get paid for lying about this?” he shot back, irritated.

“But you two really don’t look alike… and neither of your names suit you at all.” She looked Si Jingyuan up and down. “Your parents had no foresight when naming you two.”

“‘Cold heart, aged tea—that names Jingyuan; frost blade, blood sword—turns back the raging tide.'” He suddenly recited these lines, and this man who was normally overflowing with energy fell, for no apparent reason, into a brief moment of gloom. “My mother wrote the first line, my father completed the second. They agreed—Jingyuan would be the elder sibling, Kuanglan the younger, regardless of gender, regardless of temperament. It’s just that I happened to arrive in this world a moment earlier.”

That subtle shift in him didn’t escape her notice.

“I’ve been at the Si estate a while now, and I’ve never heard a single word about your parents.”

“They passed long ago.” Si Jingyuan returned to his usual manner. “For many years now, it’s just been me and Lanlan in the Si family. Oh, and Steward Miao too.”

“I see.” Tao Yao didn’t press further, changing the subject instead. “There’s a saying in the martial world—Yama judges life and death, the Si estate settles right and wrong. Is settling disputes really what you two do all day?”

“The Si family’s line of work counts as one of the seventy-two trades, I suppose?!” Si Jingyuan gave a noncommittal smile. “Ever since my parents’ generation, our family’s been mixed up in all manner of strange disputes across the martial world. ‘Settling right and wrong’ sounds like it’s about keeping the peace and making everyone happy, but that’s just the ideal. There’s so much conflict out there that can’t be resolved without blood and blades.” He stretched, unconcerned. “So it’s no wonder people call us the Living Yama—after all, plenty thank us for what we do, and plenty hate us for it too.”

Tao Yao thought it over, then smiled. “You should add one more line—few like you, many fear you.”

Si Jingyuan looked at her with newfound respect. “Tsk tsk, a little stable girl, talking like she’s lived through the same thing herself.”

The ones who fear you are people; the one who fears me is demons, Tao Yao thought to herself, making a face at him internally.

“But it seems to me you two don’t just settle human disputes—you know a fair bit about demons and spirits too?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Over the years, we’ve handled no small number of ‘disputes’ outside the ordinary range. The martial world’s a big place, all sorts of strange things in it. Setting aside my own mess, given the trade we’re in, broad knowledge is a necessity—just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Then he glared at her again, flicking her forehead for good measure. “One pear and you’ve wormed all this information out of me. Terrible deal for me. Aren’t you going to give me anything in return?”

No point telling you, really—you two mainly deal in human affairs, I only concern myself with demon affairs, Tao Yao grumbled internally, while smiling brightly on the outside. “I’m just a girl who studied a bit of medicine—not very talented, not very skilled, can’t really save anyone, so I ended up drifting around the martial world with my equally aimless companions, just trying to fill our stomachs. I already told you we came all the way from Shu to the capital, went through who knows how much hardship and how many cold shoulders along the way, sigh.” She patted Si Jingyuan’s shoulder. “Anyway, Eldest Young Master, rest easy—we came to the Si estate just wanting a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, and we’re nothing but grateful to the estate. As for my background, I’m just a poor kid from some small town, nothing more to dig into.”

Si Jingyuan studied her earnest expression for a long moment, then snorted. “At the very least I should confirm you’ve got a clean background, right?”

“Clean! Cleaner than plain tofu in water!” Tao Yao thumped her chest with great solemnity. “A timid thing like me, wanted for murder somewhere? Please. Even if I had to beg for food, I’d never steal or rob.”

“But you do eat rather a lot.”

“What’s that got to do with my clean record?”

“Just an observation.” Si Jingyuan thought it over, muttering, “Well… someone Steward Miao picked shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” He grinned, patted her head. “All right, settle in and stay with us. If anyone ever gives you trouble, come find us—we’ll settle it for you.”

Oh please, I’ve barely been here any time at all and I’ve already settled plenty of trouble for your household, Tao Yao swallowed that thought, grasping his hand gratefully instead. “Then I’ll be counting on you from now on—no, Big Brother, I’ll be counting on your care!”

“Of course! As long as you keep me company and chat with me, you’ll never lack for good food and drink!” Si Jingyuan said happily. “I just got a talking mynah bird the other day, I’ll bring you to see it later.”

“Sounds great!”

The atmosphere by the pond livened up again, Si Jingyuan slipping into full chatterbox mode, going on and on about how remarkable and amusing this bird was.

Just talking about simple, ordinary things like food and fun together—such a basic, simple friendship, and yet it was probably so hard for him to come by. Watching Si Jingyuan’s delighted face, Tao Yao suddenly found herself thinking this.

“Oh, right,” she suddenly remembered something, “where’s Steward Miao gone? I feel like I haven’t seen him in days. From what I remember, he almost never leaves the estate.”

“Visiting family,” Si Jingyuan said.

“Visiting family?”

“Mm, every autumn, he takes a few days off to visit an old friend.”

“Oh. Steward Miao must be in his forties by now, right? And I’ve never heard of him having a family? How is it your whole Si estate is destined for monkhood? If I stay here too long, will I end up unable to marry? Maybe you should raise my wages to make up for it?”

“If I were you, I’d start by combing out those two messy braids and putting on some rouge and powder—wait until people can actually tell you’re a girl at a glance before worrying about whether you can get married.”

“Ha. Talking to you tomorrow costs extra now. That’s final.”

“I’m just being honest, don’t get mad! Hey, hey, don’t leave, I’ll take you to see the mynah!”

“Not interested. Have Young Master Liu braise it.”

“Tsk tsk, a grown woman like you, picking fights with a bird?”

“Well I can’t exactly braise you!”

“…”

“Here we are, sir.” The boatman wiped the sweat from his brow.

Steward Miao, who had been gazing blankly at the flowing water and distant mountains, snapped back to himself as the small boat bumped against the shore.

“My thanks, boatman.” He paid the fare, cupped his hands in thanks, then picked up his bundle and disembarked.

It had been a good ten years, and this riverside town looked just the same as ever—come autumn, the whole mountainside filled with the scent of osmanthus, even the river seemed tinged with sweetness. Though deep autumn had already set in, that particular fragrance of green hills and clear waters still drifted lazily through the air.

Steward Miao took a deep breath and stepped onto the familiar stone path he’d walked countless times, heading toward the house tucked deep in the mountain village.

The bundle slung over his shoulder was heavy, most of it filled with candied fruit preserves of every kind. Before leaving, he’d bought bag after bag from the most famous sweet shop in the capital, worried there wouldn’t be enough for the person he meant to give it to, as if determined to buy up every last piece of the shop’s finest preserves. The shopkeeper knew him well by now, since Steward Miao returned to the shop around the same time every year; once the man learned he was the Si estate’s head steward, he’d offered to have the goods delivered directly, sparing Steward Miao the trip, but he’d politely declined, saying he preferred to choose them himself. Every time, he picked with the utmost care, rejecting anything not sweet enough or with fruit that wasn’t plump enough. The shopkeeper often marveled at whoever it was that had such particular tastes, worth all this trouble—Steward Miao would just smile and say an old friend was fond of preserves.

Though he’d walked this stone path back and forth for years now, every time he set foot on it, his heart still fluttered with a strange mix of amusement and wistfulness, like a young bride meeting her in-laws for the first time, or a wanderer who’d struggled alone for years out in the world, still fundamentally unchanged.

But he was the Si estate’s head steward, not some bashful young bride, nor some drifter who’d accomplished nothing—and yet, this same nervousness rose up without fail, every single year, the moment he set foot on this path.

At the end of this road lived the most well-known family in the whole riverside town—the man of the house, surnamed Lu, given name Cheng, in the business of teaching and shaping young minds. The Lu family academy wasn’t just the pride of the town; its reputation reached far and wide, with families from other counties and prefectures sending their children great distances to study there, all because in the twenty years since its founding, countless students of the Lu academy had passed the provincial examinations, several even achieving the rank of jinshi, going on to distinguished official careers. Every parent considered it an honor to send their child there. Lu Cheng himself had become one of the most respected figures in the whole town—though only in his forties, everyone from officials and merchants to common villagers addressed him respectfully as “Master Lu.”

He and Lu Cheng were from the same village, childhood friends who’d played in the mud and caught loaches together. Once, in his mischief, he’d fallen into the river in front of the village, and it was Lu Cheng who’d thrown himself in without a second thought to pull him out; the two of them were beaten and made to kneel in punishment afterward, and it was Xiao Jing who’d secretly brought them steamed buns. Xiao Jing had always tagged along after them, the little sister they shared between them. There were plenty of other children in the village, but the three of them had always been closest. Had the emperor of that era not ceded the empire to foreign invaders, had the realm not been consumed by endless warfare, their lives would have followed the same ordinary path as everyone else’s—growing up safely, marrying, having children. Lu Cheng had always been the best student, likely destined for the top honors in the examinations someday; he himself was Lu Cheng’s opposite in every way, never managing to stay awake through his studies, though he could calculate accounts quickly and accurately when helping his parents with their business, and he loved playing with swords and spears, shamelessly seeking out anyone rumored to be skilled in martial arts to beg for lessons. The one thing they had in common was that they both loved Xiao Jing.

Xiao Jing had been lovely, soft-spoken, and they’d both loved it when she wiped the sweat from their faces with her handkerchief while scolding them for behaving like monkeys instead of people. Whenever they were punished with beatings or made to go hungry for their mischief, she’d always say, coquettishly, that they deserved it, then turn and flounce off—only to sneak them water and food the moment the adults weren’t looking. Just hearing her voice, or even just the sound of her footsteps approaching, catching the faint fragrance from her hair, seemed enough to make the pain from any beating vanish instantly.

Though they’d been too young back then to understand romantic love, they’d both vaguely sensed that if they ever grew up and took a wife, it would surely be Xiao Jing. Even the families had noticed, quietly agreeing that once the children were older, they’d settle the marriage—whether to him or to Lu Cheng.

But before they’d had the chance to grow up, the nation fell into chaos, families were torn apart, and in that turbulent age, children like them were scattered to the winds.

In the fires of war, Xiao Jing was carried off by the Khitan, while he, having lost both parents and his home, was taken by a relative to a place a thousand li to the south. Lu Cheng fled elsewhere with his parents to escape the fighting. The once peaceful, contented life they’d known was gone for good.

Those years were especially hard for him—the so-called relative was, in truth, using the pretense of taking him in only to sell him off as child labor in a distant place. He still remembered that lightless mine shaft, doing the same backbreaking work as the grown men, working himself to the point of coughing blood with no chance to rest; those who starved to death or fell fatally ill were simply carried out and buried without ceremony. He’d run away countless times, always caught and beaten half to death. The last time he tried to escape, the overseer ordered both his feet hacked off as a “lesson” for everyone else, and he was bound and dragged beneath a raised blade.

At the last possible instant, someone blocked that blade—and, with a single backhanded strike, took the overseer’s life instead.

The illegal mine was destroyed, and some group of unknown martial-world figures cut down the men who’d been treating the laborers as expendable, scattering them in defeat.

He wasn’t even ten years old that year.

The man who’d saved his feet took him in. That man had said: good lad, blade already at your throat and you didn’t even whimper—tough as nails for someone so young, ha ha.

Tough as nails? If he’d truly been tough, would he have ended up as fish on someone else’s chopping block?

Regardless, he’d finally escaped the darkest, most wretched chapter of his life, and followed the man home.

The man who took him in was surnamed Si.

From that point on, he never left the Si family again—from a struggling orphan fighting to survive, to head steward of the Si estate, and he’d made his peace with that life.

He remembered it was the year after the two young Si masters were born—he’d gone to Xinzhou on estate business, and quite unexpectedly, spotted Xiao Jing outside a brothel, being harassed by a patron. Years had passed and her features had changed, yet the two of them recognized each other without any difficulty—one filled with astonished joy, the other with mortification. He’d chased off the troublemaker; Xiao Jing, now going by the name Xiao Yanhong, flushed crimson, clumsily insisting he’d mistaken her for someone else.

How could he possibly mistake her? He never mistook a single figure among the countless ledger entries he managed, never mistook a single dazzling move among the countless martial techniques he’d studied—so how could he possibly mistake the girl who’d occupied an irreplaceable place in the best years of his life?

That day, he’d handed over every coin he had to the madam and “bought out” Xiao Yanhong’s whole evening.

Lamplight flickered, candle wax dripped in silence; heavily made up as she was, to his eyes she was still that same sweet, endearing little sister Xiao Jing from all those years ago.

She told him that after being carried off by the Khitan, she’d escaped under cover of night. But she’d been so young then, with no idea where she was, and at her most desperate, she’d been “rescued” by an older woman she’d believed to be kind, who’d taken her home and treated her well. Not long after, she’d been sold into this place. She knew it was a wretched place, but she’d been powerless to change it—she’d run, she’d resisted, but each time the punishments that followed were only more brutal. She’d considered ending her own life, but in the end she’d given up on that too, living on in humiliation in this world of painted faces and flickering lamps.

That day, she’d clutched his sleeve, just as she had as a child, slowly recounting everything that had happened to her over the past decade. Her voice was still soft and gentle, as though she’d never known any of this hardship at all. But every word she spoke felt to him like a blade driven straight into his own body, agonizingly sharp.

That morning, she’d smiled and said that if everything had gone as it should have, she’d have become his wife, of the Miao family.

He frowned and said, I’ll buy your freedom.

He kept his word.

A few months later, he brought Xiao Jing to this riverside town, telling her she’d live here from now on.

She loved it, said the scenery here was like a painting, peaceful and serene.

He said there was more to it than that—an old friend lived here too.

Outside the Lu family academy, Lu Cheng stood frozen for a moment at the sight of Xiao Jing, then broke down in tears.

He told Xiao Jing that after they’d been scattered in different directions all those years ago, he’d never stopped searching for word of them—heaven had finally shown mercy, letting him find Lu Cheng the year before, and now, this year, he’d found her too.

That deep-autumn night, the three of them roasted meat and drank wine in Lu Cheng’s courtyard, speaking only of happy things. The decade they’d each lost, like strong wine in a cup, was swallowed down in a single gulp, never to be brought up again.

He stayed a month in the riverside town, helping Lu Cheng settle Xiao Jing into her new home, buying furnishings and supplies together—though when Xiao Jing pulled out her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow, he stepped away.

Lu Cheng, still unmarried, remained ever attentive to Xiao Jing, occasionally dreaming up little schemes to make her laugh, just as he had as a boy. But even as she laughed, she couldn’t help stealing glances of quiet, wistful longing toward him, silent as he was.

He knew, of course, exactly what she was thinking. But it couldn’t be—he could make no promises about the rest of her life, because he belonged to the Si family. To be with him meant facing whatever trouble and danger the martial world might throw their way at any moment; he couldn’t even be certain how long he’d live, let alone offer her any stability. Whoever stood by her side ought never to be him.

Lu Cheng clearly still cared for her deeply—he could see that plainly.

Staying by a scholar’s side was far better than staying beside someone who lived by the blade.

When he left the riverside town, he promised Lu Cheng and Xiao Jing he’d return every year around this same time to visit.

Just before he boarded the boat, Xiao Jing called him back.

He turned, a little afraid—what if she didn’t understand his true intentions, what if she suddenly said something she shouldn’t… what would he do then.

But she only smiled and said: “Bring me some preserves next time you come.”

He let out a breath of relief—this was the best possible outcome, wasn’t it. Bringing you back to the peace you deserved, being the old friend who brought you preserves every year, watching your happiness from a distance.

Just before departing, he turned back once more, clapped Lu Cheng on the shoulder, and murmured in his ear: “Our dearest little sister—take good care of her from now on.”

Lu Cheng started, then nodded firmly.

He boarded the boat; the water rippled beneath it, and the figures seeing him off on the shore grew smaller and smaller.

A few years later, Xiao Jing and Lu Cheng married.

He kept his word, too—even through the years when the Si family faced its own upheavals, he still made the trip to the riverside town every autumn, always with a bag full of preserves.

He never told them exactly what he did or where he lived, only that he served as a steward for a wealthy household, and stayed quite busy.

They weren’t people of the martial world—no reason to burden them with its affairs.

The gray sky suddenly let loose a fine drizzle, the air turning damp and cold in an instant.

The Lu family academy, once always alive with the sound of recitation, was strangely silent now, its gate padlocked, a scattering of withered leaves piled before the door.

He frowned, sought out a local villager nearby, and asked what had happened to the Lu academy.

The villager sighed heavily. “It’s Madam Lu—something’s happened to her.”

His heart lurched. “What’s happened to Madam Lu?”

“She’s killed someone!” The villager shook his head repeatedly. “Such a gentle, virtuous woman—who’d have thought she had it in her to do something so vicious!”

A sudden ringing filled his head; the villager’s face and voice seemed to drift far away.

Killed someone? She was afraid of cockroaches—where would she find the nerve to kill anyone?

“Killed who?” He steadied himself.

“Master Liu!” the villager said. “Last autumn, a new private school opened up here, run by this Master Liu—arrogant sort, always sneering at the Lu academy, and word has it he used some underhanded tricks to poach the Lu academy’s students. Plenty of people were outraged on Master Lu’s behalf, but Master Lu’s a good-natured, easygoing man, never one to fight back, always the one to yield. Then right after Qingming, Master Liu turned up dead in the street, and it was Madam Lu holding the knife that did it. In broad daylight, in front of everyone, alas! She’s been taken to the county yamen already, and come autumn she’ll be sent to the prefectural court for trial. A crime that grave—there’s no surviving it. What a shame, how could such a gentle woman ever bring herself to something so drastic.”

He gritted his teeth and asked, “Where’s Master Lu now? I see the academy gates locked shut.”

“Him,” the villager said, full of pity, “ever since Madam Lu’s misfortune, he’s shut down the academy too, drinking himself senseless every day at that tavern on the east side of the market. Every time, someone has to carry him home.”

He thanked the man and rushed straight toward the tavern.

With the rain, the village market was nearly empty, the whole area deserted and cold; the tavern’s sign swung wildly in the wind and rain. Inside, Lu Cheng sat as the sole customer, face flushed red, downing cup after cup. Only in his forties, he looked as haggard as a dying old man.

He snatched the wine jug straight out of Lu Cheng’s hands.

Lu Cheng squinted up at him through bleary, drunken eyes, stunned for a long moment before bursting into a laugh. “It’s you! You came!”

He said nothing, walked straight through to check the tavern’s kitchen and back courtyard, then returned, grabbed Lu Cheng by the collar, dragged him to the water vat in the back courtyard, and forced his head under.

Lu Cheng thrashed wildly; he judged the time was about right and finally let go.

“Sober up yet?” He crouched down, watching Lu Cheng coldly as he slumped on the ground, gasping for air.

Lu Cheng stared blankly for a long moment before suddenly grabbing his arm, all his usual gentlemanly composure gone, wailing, “You came too late! Too late! They’ve locked her up… they’re going to behead her!”

He gritted his teeth. “Tell me exactly what happened. She’s not the kind of woman who’d stab someone in the street!”

“It’s my fault, all my fault!” Lu Cheng was consumed with regret. “I only complained to her privately a few times about Master Liu’s behavior, never imagining she’d do something so reckless. I told her, no matter how arrogant Master Liu got, no matter what tricks he used to steal our students, it didn’t matter, we should just mind our own business. I suppose these past weeks he must have gone too far… you know, she’s never been the type to speak her frustrations out loud, always bottling them up inside… I, I don’t know what to do.” He suddenly dropped to his knees. “I wanted to find you the moment this happened, but I had no way to reach you at all.” He grabbed at him. “I can’t bear to watch her die, but I can’t save her, I can’t save her! Help me! For the sake of our years as brothers!”

“Get up!” He hauled Lu Cheng to his feet forcibly. “What good is crying! Are you even a man!”

Lu Cheng shook his head in anguish. “I’m nothing! All I know how to do is teach people to read and write, chase examination honors… I can’t do anything!”

“Lu Cheng!” he said angrily. “I’m still here! As long as I’m alive, no one will ever hurt Xiao Jing!”

A flicker of hope seemed to cross Lu Cheng’s face, only to be swallowed again by despair the next instant. “She’s in the county prison, what can anyone do now? The whole street saw her kill him… I don’t even have a chance to plead her innocence.”

“Leave it to me.” He released Lu Cheng. “As of today, you never saw me.”

Lu Cheng froze.

The next day, chaos erupted at the county yamen—Madam Lu, the murderer who’d killed a man in broad daylight, had been spirited away in the night, and the guards who’d been knocked unconscious woke with no memory of whether the culprit had been man or woman, only recalling a shadowy figure like some phantom, pressing a finger to their pressure points before they lost consciousness entirely, leaving not a single clue behind.

One case unresolved, and now a second had opened up—the missing person, a convicted murderer no less—leaving everyone at the county yamen with a massive headache.

Today, Young Master Liu had been asked to prepare food for two extra people, on account of Steward Miao’s return—and the fact that he’d brought along a guest.

This dinner began in an atmosphere of considerable courtesy.

Steward Miao kept adding food and soup to the bowl of the woman beside him, attentive but careful never to overdo it.

Si Kuanglan spoke only once during the whole meal, addressing the woman: “Since Madam Lu is Steward Miao’s old friend, she is a guest of the Si estate. Please, settle in and stay as long as you need.”

Madam Lu rose to return the courtesy with thanks, though the terror of her narrow escape from death clearly hadn’t left her—even lifting her chopsticks and bowl, her hands trembled with careful restraint.

Though this woman was already past forty, she was still quite lovely; in her youth, she must have been striking indeed. Tao Yao stared at her intently while sipping her soup, and several times, when Madam Lu inadvertently met her gaze, she didn’t dare hold it, quickly ducking her head to focus on her own bowl, taking small, steady bites. Given her state of mind, she probably couldn’t taste a thing anyway—not that it mattered, since anyone who could eat Young Master Liu’s cooking bite after bite either had something wrong with their tongue or their head. Though his skills had improved slightly of late, and he’d learned to bring takeout home from restaurants, the dish she kept picking at was unmistakably his own handiwork—salty and dry.

The Si estate’s dinner table had grown much livelier lately. At Si Jingyuan’s insistence, Tao Yao, Mo Ya, and Young Master Liu now joined them for every meal, since previously mealtimes had only ever featured the two brothers plus Steward Miao—too few people to make eating feel like much fun. Privately, Tao Yao thought that with Young Master Liu doing the cooking, you could pack the entire capital’s population around this table and food still wouldn’t taste good. Still, she’d happily accepted Si Jingyuan’s invitation—whatever the food was like, at least joining the Si family’s table meant getting to see Si Kuanglan every day at a fixed time. Twins though they were, and despite their different looks, Si Jingyuan wasn’t unattractive either—but somehow every time she looked at him, all she wanted was to stuff a bun in his mouth and lock him away somewhere dark and quiet where he couldn’t bother anyone else… Si Kuanglan was different. Even with his blank expressions and cutting remarks, just looking at him filled her with endless curiosity, an urge to keep staring at his face, as if that alone might let her see straight through this man who so deliberately kept himself apart from everyone. Besides, sitting at the same table as him somehow made even the worst-tasting food go down easier—clearly, Si Kuanglan just had one of those faces that made a meal go down well!

“Here, here, Madam Lu, try this chicken leg.” Si Jingyuan, ever the gracious host, transferred a braised chicken leg—takeout from the Taotie Restaurant that Young Master Liu had brought home—straight into Madam Lu’s bowl. Young Master Liu’s chopsticks arrived a beat too late, and he shot Si Jingyuan a venomous glare.

“She’s our guest, come from far away—you go eat your own cooking!” Si Jingyuan glared right back.

“I made that braised chicken leg too! Why can’t I eat it!”

“Who are you fooling! Everyone knows that’s from Taotie Restaurant!”

“I sprinkled the scallions on top myself!”

“Then go eat the scallions.”

“Si Jingyuan, you…”

“Call me Eldest Young Master.”

Mo Ya hastily transferred a piece of green vegetable into Young Master Liu’s bowl, coaxing him. “Just eat, just eat. No talking while eating.”

“I want meat!” Young Master Liu tossed the vegetable back at Mo Ya in disgust, only for Gungun, crouched on Mo Ya’s lap, to snatch it away mid-flight.

“Since when does a fox get to eat at the table!” Young Master Liu grew even more incensed. “Your fox’s mouth touched my chopsticks! How am I supposed to eat with fox drool on them now!”

“Why can’t a fox eat with us? All beings are equal, Young Master Liu.” Mo Ya looked utterly innocent.

Watching these rowdy young people, Madam Lu gave an awkward little smile, murmuring to Steward Miao, “Brother Miao, I never expected it to be so lively here.”

Steward Miao sighed helplessly. “Aside from our second young master’s steadiness, well… don’t let the rest of them frighten you. Whenever this bunch gets together, there’s bound to be some ruckus.”

She waved a hand quickly. “No, no, it’s fine, it’s lovely actually—a whole big family together, so much livelier. Not like ours, where it’s just Cheng and me at the table year-round, so quiet.”

Hearing this, Si Kuanglan suddenly asked, “From what Madam Lu says, are your children perhaps living far away?”

“If only they were merely far away.” She shook her head with a bitter smile. “I’m ashamed to say, my husband and I have never had children. We did have one once, long ago, but it was lost before it was even born, and I never conceived again after.”

“Come, come, let’s keep eating.” Steward Miao hastily cut in to interrupt this heavy topic. “No use dwelling on the past. Things will get better from here.”

“Mm.” Her eyes reddened slightly, and she couldn’t help rubbing them.

Perhaps only the people of the Si estate would be bold enough to not only shelter a convicted murderer certain to be executed, but sit calmly at the same table with her, chatting away as though nothing were amiss.

The moment Steward Miao returned, he’d already given the Si brothers a full, clear account of everything that happened and Madam Lu’s background. Si Jingyuan, ever the gossip, immediately turned around and relayed the whole thing to Tao Yao without missing a detail—except his focus wasn’t remotely on the fact that Madam Lu was a convicted murderer, but rather on how Steward Miao had brought his first love home, quite good-looking too, except she was already married, which made things rather awkward going forward. Tao Yao genuinely considered cracking his skull open to see what exactly was wrong inside it…

As for Si Kuanglan, after hearing Steward Miao’s full report, he’d said only three words: “This is troublesome.”

Steward Miao immediately dropped to his knees, cupping his hands. “This was my recklessness. I should take her away at once, and bring no trouble whatsoever to the Si estate.”

“No need for that.” Si Kuanglan flipped through his book. “Without trouble, how would the Si estate ever settle right and wrong?”

“Second Young Master…” Steward Miao’s heart warmed, and he bowed deeply, kowtowing to him. With Si Kuanglan’s permission, she now had, at the very least, the safest shelter in the entire capital. As for what came next, he’d deal with it later—he didn’t believe, not for one moment, that she could have killed someone in the street.

The first time Tao Yao met Madam Lu, she’d immediately taken great interest in this delicate, timid woman shrinking behind Steward Miao. After hearing Si Jingyuan’s account of her history with Steward Miao and the disaster that had befallen her, she’d asked Si Jingyuan how they planned to handle it. Si Jingyuan said they’d wait and see—technically she’d committed the grave crime of murder in broad daylight, but Steward Miao insisted so firmly that she couldn’t possibly have done such a thing that perhaps there really was more to the story. Tao Yao had made a face, pointing out that whatever the underlying circumstances, the fact remained that she’d killed a man in full view of the public street—surely even the Si estate couldn’t place itself above the law? Si Jingyuan had thought it over for a long while before finally saying, yes, it was troublesome, but the Si estate specialized in settling troublesome disputes—every dispute worth settling was troublesome by nature—and besides, this was someone Steward Miao had brought, and you had to show face for his sake if nothing else.

Hearing this, Tao Yao had only muttered that this particular trouble might be more than they could handle.

The meal ended peacefully enough, all things considered. Afterward, Si Kuanglan told Steward Miao, “You’ll see to Madam Lu’s arrangements. We’ve plenty of spare rooms in the estate—have some servants clean one out for her, and find a maid to attend to her.”

“Yes.” Steward Miao nodded. “My thanks, Second Young Master.”

“There’s really no need to go to such trouble.” Madam Lu protested, embarrassed. “Imposing on your household is already far too much—how could I possibly have you send someone to wait on me as well.”

“Don’t trouble yourself over it, Madam Lu. My estate is quite large, and you’re new here and unfamiliar with the place—having a maid to look after you is for the best. Don’t refuse.” With that, he turned to Tao Yao. “Little Tao, you’ll be looking after Madam Lu.”

Tao Yao rolled her eyes. “But I’ve got horses to feed!”

“You think I don’t know exactly how much free time you have every day?” Si Kuanglan wiped his mouth. “Madam Lu is now your responsibility. Any mishap, and it comes out of your wages.”

Her weak spot… for a poor girl like her, that was absolutely her weak spot… She stiffened her neck. “Fine, I’ll go!”

“No, no, truly, there’s no need.” Madam Lu protested hastily. “You clearly have your own duties, don’t trouble yourself over me, I really couldn’t bear the imposition.”

“It’s no trouble at all, I’m just a servant of the Si estate anyway, I do as the young masters say.” Tao Yao said quickly. “You really do need someone with you, Madam Lu, or you’ll surely get lost around this estate.”

“Don’t refuse now.” Steward Miao looked at her. “I’ll rest easier with Little Tao by your side.”

Madam Lu glanced around at everyone, hesitated a moment, then finally nodded, bowing to Tao Yao. “Then I’ll trouble you, miss.”

“No trouble, no trouble at all, Madam Lu, just tell me whatever you need, don’t hold back on my account.” Tao Yao hurried over to support her arm.

And so, with hardly any fuss at all, the matter was settled. Steward Miao had brought home an old friend convicted of murder, and Si Kuanglan had agreed to shelter her without a second thought—the whole Si estate seemed thoroughly unbothered by this kind of “trouble,” everyone remarkably calm about it, except for Si Jingyuan, who kept pestering Steward Miao about his old flame until the poor man was thoroughly worn out. Everyone else acted as though an ordinary guest had simply arrived.

As for the extra duty Si Kuanglan had assigned her, Tao Yao grumbled a little but didn’t put up much resistance—instead, she went straight back to her room, packed up some everyday things, and hurried off toward the guest quarters.

Halfway there, she ran into Young Master Liu, who blocked her path and asked where she was headed.

“Where else would I be headed? Now I’ve got to serve both horses and humans!” Tao Yao said irritably. “Move it.”

“You’re doing extra work without extra pay?” Young Master Liu wouldn’t budge.

Tao Yao glared at him. “If I don’t go, I might lose even my regular wages! Si Kuanglan is fully capable of that!”

“Go on then, go on. That Madam Lu seems like a very gentle sort—do take good care of her.” Young Master Liu stepped aside.

Tao Yao ignored him and strode off.

“Tao Yao.” He called after her again.

“Trying to summon my soul or something!” She stopped, annoyed, turning back.

Young Master Liu grinned slyly. “Even if Si Kuanglan hadn’t assigned you to look after her, wouldn’t you have volunteered to stick to her side anyway?”

Tao Yao stuck her tongue out at him and dashed off in a flash.

The days after Madam Lu moved into the Si estate passed quietly, without incident.

The pursuers Tao Yao had half-expected never came—after all, no one would figure out anytime soon that the one who’d broken her out of prison was the Si estate’s head steward. She was rather curious, actually—if Steward Miao’s identity ever came to light and the authorities came knocking, how would the Si brothers handle it? Martial-world figures might show the Si estate some deference, but would the authorities?

She and Madam Lu spent their days together, sleeping in the same room, and once they’d grown a little more familiar, she cautiously asked Madam Lu what exactly had happened to drive her to such a wild act. Madam Lu herself seemed deeply pained by it, saying she truly hadn’t liked this Master Liu who’d been at odds with her husband—he’d slandered the Lu academy and used underhanded tactics to poach their students—but she’d never once wished him dead. That day, she’d gone to the market to buy vegetables, and happened to see Master Liu standing in the street, murmuring to someone; she couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was almost certainly more slander. She didn’t know what had come over her—some kind of dark rage—her eyes had throbbed painfully, everything had turned red before her vision, her ears filled with a chaotic buzzing, and in a daze she’d grabbed a knife from a meat stall and rushed at him. By the time her sight and hearing returned to normal, several men already had her firmly restrained, the knife lying at her feet, and Master Liu lay before her, riddled with wounds, long since dead. Everyone had seen her raise the blade and kill him.

“I never meant to kill him, whatever grievance existed between us was never deep enough to warrant taking a life!” Madam Lu grew more regretful the more she spoke. “But somehow I picked up that knife… it was my own recklessness, my own terrible mistake, and now I’ve even dragged Brother Miao into danger, coming to rescue me.” Her tears fell steadily.

Seeing this, Tao Yao didn’t quite know how to comfort her, only urging her not to dwell on it too much—since the Si estate had taken her in, that meant someone would help resolve whatever trouble came her way in the future.

Steward Miao dropped by often to check on her, bringing clothes or preserves, sometimes sitting with her a while, asking whether she’d settled in comfortably, chatting about ordinary things. Only when they spoke of their childhood days did Madam Lu’s face light up with genuine smiles. Whenever they reminisced, Tao Yao never left either, shamelessly lingering nearby, munching on preserves while listening to this middle-aged pair recount stories from their youth, privately reflecting that if not for the chaos and warfare of that era, perhaps there would have been no Steward Miao, no Madam Lu at all—just an ordinary couple surnamed Miao somewhere out in the countryside, living simply, surrounded by children.

But fate is a blade, and you never know where it will fall, or how it will carve up your life.

That day, Tao Yao stopped Steward Miao just as he was about to leave, warning him to be careful coming and going from the Si estate from now on, since he’d now made an enemy of the authorities.

Steward Miao only smiled and patted her head. “I’ve faced worse odds than this before. I know how to handle myself.”

“Are you going to hide her forever?” Tao Yao pressed further. “And what about her husband?”

Steward Miao thought it over. “Lu Cheng is certainly under watch right now. Once some time passes and things quiet down, I’ll go bring him here too.”

Tao Yao frowned. “But she really did kill someone.”

“I know.” Steward Miao sighed. “But I simply can’t bring myself to watch her lose her head.” He glanced around, and once he’d confirmed no one was near, he continued, “Don’t laugh at me, Little Tao. At my age, if you asked me whether there’s one pearl I’ve always treasured in my heart, it would undoubtedly be Xiao Jing. All these years, I’ve wished her well unconditionally.”

Tao Yao looked at this reddening, deeply wistful older man and said, “I won’t laugh. Everyone has a first love.”

He smiled but didn’t answer.

She paused, then asked, “Do you ever regret leaving her on that shore, back then?”

He only smiled again, and gave no answer.

Some shores, once left behind, can never be returned to.

In the blink of an eye, several more days passed, and all was well at the Si estate, save for a servant reporting that the garden had a rat problem—several precious flowering plants had been gnawed through—and since cages and traps hadn’t worked, they’d set out potent rat poison, with a special warning to the cleaning staff not to accidentally sweep it away as trash.

Madam Lu’s spirits had improved somewhat since her arrival, likely due to the distance from that painful place she wanted to forget, and the pleasant environment of the Si estate. She no longer shut herself in her room all day, and occasionally, with Tao Yao’s company, she’d take walks around the estate grounds.

The wind was particularly strong today. In the garden, she stared at the fallen leaves scattered across the ground and suddenly grew emotional, choking up as she said to Tao Yao, “I’m just like these leaves—who knows what fate awaits me.” As she spoke, she broke into violent coughing.

Tao Yao quickly patted her back. “You’re too thinly dressed today. Let’s head back.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just want some fresh air. Let me stay a bit longer. Would you mind fetching me a cloak, Miss Tao?”

“Sure, wait here, I’ll go get it.”

A moment later, Tao Yao returned with the cloak. Madam Lu sat alone on the stone bench beneath the tree, her gaze distant and empty.

She draped the cloak over her shoulders. “Do you want to stay a bit longer?”

Madam Lu stood. “Let’s go back.”

The whole way back, Madam Lu didn’t say another word.

Once back in her room, she said she was tired and went to lie down, skipping lunch entirely.

Hearing she wasn’t feeling well, Steward Miao hurried over to check on her.

She said it was just a bit of wind exposure, nothing serious, apologizing as she poured him tea, saying she’d made him worry again.

“I know you’ve been feeling low, but bottling it all up isn’t good for your health.” He lifted the steaming cup. “I’ll see your affairs settled properly, don’t you worry.”

She nodded, though her expression showed no relief at all.

“I’ve never once believed you could kill someone.” He looked intently into her eyes. “Even though everyone saw you raise the knife, I still don’t believe that was truly your intention.”

She lowered her head even further, her hands clenching tightly in her lap.

Steward Miao raised the teacup, lips just about to touch it, when a piece of candied fruit came flying through the air and knocked the cup clean out of his hand.

Outside the window, Young Master Liu’s and Tao Yao’s heads poked into view.

Steward Miao jumped, startled, and scolded, “What are you two little troublemakers up to?”

Young Master Liu stepped into the room, pointing at the overturned cup on the floor. “You’re really going to drink tea steeped with rat poison?!”

Steward Miao froze, then looked over at Madam Lu, still sitting there with her head bowed, and rose, snapping, “What nonsense are you two spouting! Why would she poison me!”

Tao Yao stepped out from behind Young Master Liu, calm. “It’s true. I saw with my own eyes—she hid the garden’s rat poison in her sleeve while I was gone, and I saw her put the poison in the teapot with my own eyes too. Me staying by her side wasn’t only to attend to her.”

“You… you two…” Steward Miao was shocked and disbelieving in equal measure—a man who’d weathered far greater storms than this, and yet a pot of poison had shaken him. More precisely, it wasn’t the poison itself that shook him, but the person who wanted him dead.

Impossible. How could it be her?!

He grabbed Madam Lu by the shoulders. “Xiao Jing, was this you?”

Madam Lu lifted her head, her eyes faintly red, staring at his face, murmuring, “I… what have I done…”

Tao Yao exchanged a glance with Young Master Liu, and he stepped forward, twisting Madam Lu’s arm sharply; she cried out in pain.

Steward Miao instinctively moved to stop Young Master Liu, but Tao Yao cut him off. “Don’t interfere. She’s not the one trying to kill you.”

Steward Miao was thoroughly bewildered now.

Tao Yao pulled a pill from her pouch, walked over, and briskly forced it into Madam Lu’s mouth, making her swallow it.

Before long, Madam Lu’s eyes turned as red as if filled with blood, a thin wisp of gray smoke rising from them; she collapsed to the ground in agony, clawing frantically at her own eyes, letting out anguished, whimpering cries.

Steward Miao stared, stunned, then grabbed Tao Yao. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her. I did something to the demon inside her.” Tao Yao pulled her hand free. “If you trust me, stay out of my way.”

Before she’d even finished speaking, two thin streaks of white light leapt out from Madam Lu’s eyes, twisting together into a knot in midair, then bolted frantically toward the darkest corner of the room.

Seeing this, Tao Yao leapt into action, moving with lightning speed to pinch the ball of light between two fingers. It immediately let out a shrill, squeaking cry.

At the same moment, the golden bell on her wrist rang out—a sound long overdue.

Jingling, jingling.

Countless candles and oil lamps were lit throughout the room, even though it was still only afternoon.

Everyone’s eyes fixed on Tao Yao’s hand, where, pinched tightly between her thumb and forefinger, was a strange white-glowing creature, no bigger than a mosquito, yet shaped like a tiny human, featureless, entirely white, its gender indeterminate, with butterfly-like wings sprouting from its back. Only up close could one make out its details.

“This is…” Si Jingyuan’s mouth fell open. “This is the demon you mentioned?”

Tao Yao nodded. “A strange sprout grows from a corpse, three chi long, curved like a snake, bearing exactly thirteen leaves shaped like human hearts, and beneath each leaf hangs a pearl-like fruit. Once ripe, a demon emerges from the fruit, the size of a mosquito, with butterfly wings, colored white, sexless, always born in pairs. Place one in your own eye and the other in someone else’s, and you may, from a thousand li away, make that person into a blade, killing without any visible trace. This demon is called Dark Blade—small in body, but capable of terrible disaster. Its true form can hide in darkness, but reveal itself in light, and once seen, it can be destroyed.”

Si Kuanglan frowned. “You mean this demon, this ‘Dark Blade,’ emerges from that fruit, always born in pairs—and if someone places one in their own eye and the other in someone else’s, they can control that person, even force them to kill on their behalf?”

Tao Yao glanced at Madam Lu, unconscious on the bed, and smiled. “Why else do you think she’d go kill Master Liu—or even try to kill Steward Miao, who’s shown her nothing but kindness?”

Steward Miao’s face had gone ashen, but he let out a long breath of relief. “I knew it. It couldn’t have been her.”

“You suspected all along that Madam Lu had something ‘foreign’ in her?” Si Kuanglan glanced at her.

“Don’t blame me. Didn’t you have your own suspicions about Madam Lu too? Otherwise, why assign me to look after her specifically, when the estate’s got plenty of maids?” Tao Yao shot back.

“Let’s not get sidetracked with all this.” Si Jingyuan cut in, pointing at the creature. “If you say this demon comes in pairs, and one’s on Madam Lu, then whoever has the other one is the real culprit?!”

Tao Yao nodded.

“Who is it?” Steward Miao demanded furiously. “Who could be so vicious, using a defenseless woman as their weapon, their shield?!”

“How would I know who it is.” Tao Yao shrugged. “Though finding out isn’t hard.”

Before she’d even finished speaking, her gaze turned suddenly cold, and with a slight squeeze of her fingers, a shrill scream sounded, and the demon between her fingers shattered instantly into pieces, dissolving into dust.

Kill on a whim like that… this girl, normally so gluttonous and playful, without a serious bone in her body—seeing her turn ruthless like this was rather startling.

“That’s… that’s it, it’s dead?” Si Jingyuan blinked, hardly able to believe it.

“Dead.” Tao Yao clapped her hands. “Now all you need to do is check everyone close to Madam Lu, one by one, and see whose eye went blind the moment I crushed the Dark Blade. That person is your culprit.”

Steward Miao froze. “Someone close to Xiao Jing?”

“You know why I loathe this particular breed of demon so much?” Tao Yao fell silent for a moment. “Because the Dark Blade only works on someone who trusts you completely.”

At those words, everyone fell silent.

To send someone who trusted you utterly to their death—the one deserving punishment here was hardly just the demon called Dark Blade…

Steward Miao carefully tucked the blanket around Madam Lu, then, without a word, bolted out of the room.

No one tried to stop him.

“Send someone to follow him. Don’t let this spiral out of control,” Si Kuanglan said to Si Jingyuan.

“I’ll go myself.” Si Jingyuan turned to leave, but his brother caught his arm; he shook it off. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch out for myself. This is Steward Miao’s affair—we ought to handle it ourselves.”

Si Kuanglan frowned, thought it over, and didn’t press the matter further. “Just remember what you told me.”

“I won’t forget.” Si Jingyuan hurried off after Steward Miao, elbowing Tao Yao lightly as he passed. “When I get back, I’m interrogating you properly.”

Tao Yao’s eyelids drooped. This really had turned into quite the mess—if it weren’t for how well Steward Miao had always treated her, she wouldn’t have lifted a finger to get involved, watching him walk into danger unchecked or not! And now, heaven only knew how much energy these two brothers were going to spend digging into her background… Should she just come clean about who she really was? Ugh, better not… but if she kept quiet, Si Jingyuan would surely pester her to death about it. Sigh, her head was starting to ache.

In the suddenly quiet room, Si Kuanglan glanced once more at Madam Lu, then said to Tao Yao, “Keep looking after her. We’ll settle the rest once they’re back.”

Tao Yao called after him, “If you catch the culprit, what will you do?”

Si Kuanglan didn’t answer, walking straight out of the room.

Young Master Liu yawned. “You’re probably not just interested in the culprit, are you.”

Tao Yao looked at Madam Lu’s ashen face and smiled coldly. “Dark Blade is an extremely rare demon—it’s not like rat poison you can buy off a street corner, something anyone would know how to use. If the culprit himself is just an ordinary person, then whoever taught him how to use a Dark Blade from behind the scenes—that’s who I’m most interested in.”

Well then. Everything else would have to wait until they returned.