Prologue

“I’m a demon,” she smiled the same careless smile as always. “A fish who lives on the shore.”

1

Three months ago.

Iron Mirror Town, the Ling family.

Brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone were arranged on the wooden desk. Against the fine white paper, the brush tip moved slowly, its graceful curving lines steeped in afternoon sunlight—whatever shape it finally took, it was bound to be a beautiful, tender memory taking form. The handsome man sitting at the desk wore an expression of total focus, his fingers—marked with several old, long-healed scars—gripping the brush. Though he seemed the picture of concentration, in a certain fleeting moment of distraction, it was unclear whether his thoughts were on the paper or on those scars.

The people of Iron Mirror Town had long since grown used to treating “Ling Shuwang” as an adjective. Whenever someone needed an example of a man who was “accomplished in both scholarship and martial arts, dignified in bearing, born of a prestigious family, and outstanding among his peers,” he was the standard by which all others were measured. The Ling family had lived in Iron Mirror Town for generations, their ancestral trade being ironwork. Skilled and painstaking in their craft, any piece of ironware that passed through the Ling family’s hands—everyday tools or weapons of war alike—gradually became known throughout the martial world as “famous vessels,” prized for their exceptional quality and refinement. Everyone wished to own a piece of “Ling family iron.” Now, the family’s aging patriarch had begun to think of retirement, planning to hold on for another three to five years before passing the entire family enterprise to his only son, Ling Shuwang. Both the Ling family and outsiders alike considered this the natural and best choice. After all, Ling Shuwang was so outstanding—though born into a prestigious family and the sole heir showered with affection, he carried none of the airs of a spoiled young master. Since childhood he had studied literature and practiced martial arts, indifferent to hardship, undeterred by cold or heat, and gifted besides, growing naturally into a talented young man equally at ease with poetry, painting, and the blade. Rare among his peers, he also had a heart for justice, often intervening on behalf of the weak against the strong when he was young. When praised for it, he brushed it off, saying only that the Ling family motto was “forge iron that holds firm, act with chivalry and righteousness.” Beneath his refined, scholarly exterior lay a truly iron backbone—neither arrogant nor impatient, both brave and resourceful. Everyone said the old patriarch must have done great good in a past life to be blessed with such a fine son in this one.

Three years ago, Ling Shuwang—who had once made no small number of young women lose sleep over him—got married. His bride was the daughter of an old family friend, a match arranged before either of them was born, fitting in status and standing.

This marriage alone was, to some degree, unexpected. Everyone had assumed that a man like young master Ling would, in his travels through the martial world, meet a kindred spirit—a beautiful confidante whose love story with him would be a winding, moving legend: an unexpected beginning, a perfect ending, a match made by immortals.

But instead, he chose the least winding path of all.

Well, who said that wandering the martial world necessarily meant meeting a beautiful confidante?

“Papa! Papa!”

Down the corridor, a stumbling toddler of one or two years old came running, clutching a piece of candy paste, heading straight for his arms.

He roused from his brief distraction, set down his brush, turned and embraced his son, smiling. “Didn’t I tell you not to run so fast? You’ll fall and cry again.”

“Papa, eat candy!” The little one pushed the candy toward his mouth. He obligingly took a small bite and said it was delicious.

A gentle father and his young child—a scene of perfect warmth.

At that moment, a slender, delicate-featured woman approached the two of them, a cloak draped over her arm, walking with a slight limp in her right foot.

“Even though it’s sunny, it’s still cold. You’re not wearing enough,” the woman said, carefully draping the cloak over his shoulders. Though her tone carried a note of scolding, her face remained gentle throughout.

“With this body of mine, it’d be hard to catch a chill even if I tried,” he said, smiling up at her. “Have Mother and Father gone out?”

“Yes, quite a while ago now. They said the weather was too nice today, wanted to take a walk.” She reached out and touched the teapot on his desk. “It’s gone cold. I’ll get you a fresh pot. Did you let Xiaogui go out to play again?”

“With weather this nice, none of those children could sit still anyway. Better to let them go.” He waved it off. “Cold tea won’t kill anyone.”

“Honestly, you’ve spoiled all these young servants rotten.” She sighed. “What would you like for dinner tonight? Sister Lin’s mother came by with quite a bit of mountain delicacies—should I make a soup?”

“Soup?” He paused slightly, murmuring to himself, “I actually dreamed of drinking soup last night.”

She covered her mouth and laughed. “So you’re craving it, then. I’ll have the kitchen prepare a warming soup for you right away.” She reached down and touched their son’s head. “Lu’er, don’t disturb your father here. Come along with Mother somewhere else to play.”

The child obediently got up. She took his hand in one of hers, lifted the teapot with the other, and turned to leave.

She was always so attentive, tending to his daily needs while being careful never to intrude, always leaving him his own space and time.

“Wanqing,” he called after her, “you don’t need to work yourself so hard. Rest more.”

She turned back with a smile. “How is looking after my own husband ‘working hard’? You’re the one who needs more rest—Father’s been giving you more and more responsibilities lately, and someday the whole Ling family will rest on your shoulders. What I do is nothing by comparison.”

Three years, and he still hadn’t quite gotten used to responding to this kind of gentle warmth. All he could manage was a smile. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need for thanks between husband and wife.” She turned away, a little embarrassed, and in that moment, as her back was turned, a flicker of loss crossed her smiling face. “I’ll go get your tea.”

Perhaps this couple, of all people, best illustrated what it meant to “treat one another with the courtesy due a guest.”

They would likely never argue in this lifetime, could grow old together sitting peacefully at the same dinner table, lying in the same bed, exchanging the concern appropriate to their respective roles, living out an entire life without a ripple.

This was the future he had chosen.

It wasn’t a matter of regret or no regret—after all, there was still so much more for him to accomplish in life, so many more responsibilities to shoulder.

He looked up. The slanting sunlight still stung his eyes a little.

Everyone said this winter would be the coldest yet. Perhaps today’s warm sun was the last luxury before the deep cold arrived. Would she still be dressing in thin clothes, still brave enough to swim in the river in the dead of winter, like she used to? Still boiling soup from insects to drink? Now… was there anyone to help her crack open those phoenix-tail fruits that were harder than stone?

His gaze dropped to the unfinished painting before him—a blank face on the paper, long, slightly wavy hair drifting like a fish’s tail, brushing past his memory.

“What if I married you?”

“I’d agree!”

“Not even a little bit of playing hard to get…”

“Ling Shuwang, I’m so happy.”

Like a stone dropped into still water—with every ripple that spread, the pain deepened by another layer.

He instinctively clutched at his chest, brow furrowing. It wasn’t imagined pain. It truly felt like a blade twisting in his heart, cutting upward from the base, flesh and bone splitting apart.

He collapsed to the ground in agony, cold sweat covering his forehead, his hands nearly clawing into his own chest.

The teapot fell and shattered on the floor. Then came Wanqing’s scream.

“Husband!!”

2

Achoo!

Young Master Liu sneezed again, hands tucked into his sleeves, two dark circles under his eyes. “This is the third day now. Are you really planning to keep searching aimlessly like this?”

On a rooftop somewhere high in the capital, Tao Yao hunched her shoulders and yawned. “Don’t talk. Listen carefully.”

“I’ve been listening to people talk in their sleep, fart, and hiccup for three nights straight now!” Young Master Liu dug irritably at his ear. “And you’ve had me bouncing across every rooftop in the city with you—easy for you to say, I’m the one suffering!”

“You get to live it up at the Si estate every day, eating and drinking well. If you don’t get out and jump around a bit, you’ll turn into a fat snake with a beer belly.” Tao Yao rolled her eyes. “Oh wait, never mind, you already have a beer belly in that form of yours.”

Fortunately, it was the dead of night, and there were no pedestrians on the streets—even if Tao Yao got kicked off the roof, she wouldn’t land on anyone innocent.

These three nights had truly been rough on Young Master Liu. To cure the Stone Solids’ anxiety—and more importantly, to save the walls of the Si estate and everyone else’s houses—Tao Yao had dragged him across the capital’s rooftops for three straight nights, searching for any trace of that “malevolent creature” like looking for a needle in a haystack. She said that with good luck, they might catch the creature in the act on the very first night. In theory, it couldn’t precisely locate which specific house’s wall the Stone Solids were hiding in, and since it used sound to hunt them, the best strategy was to find a position that wouldn’t obstruct the spread of sound, to cover as many houses as possible—casting a wide net and fishing for luck. Looking over the whole capital, the optimal spot could only be some high point in a bustling area. So for three nights, they’d staked out the most densely populated districts, straining to catch every unusual sound in the air.

But their luck hadn’t been great. Aside from the sounds Young Master Liu mentioned, they’d heard nothing else across three nights, hadn’t spotted anything strange in the capital’s nights either.

“Maybe that thing’s already caught enough and stopped coming out?” Young Master Liu rubbed his eyes. “Should we just turn a rock into a fake demon and tell those two we’ve already subdued the malevolent creature? As long as they’re not scared anymore, they won’t run away from home, and the world will be at peace. I’m so sleepy…”

“Ptooey!” Tao Yao smacked him on the head, still scanning the surroundings with stubbornly open, drowsy eyes. “You can go be a scheming, shameless snake all you want, but I can’t be a quack doctor. If more buildings collapse, or worse, someone dies, whose fault would that be? If that person finds out we slacked off and neglected our duty, will you take the oil pot for me, or will I take it for you?”

Young Master Liu, eyes half-closed, said miserably, “I really just want to sleep… You should have Young Master Si keep you company on the rooftop instead!”

“Spring’s already here and you’re still talking about sleeping!” Tao Yao pinched his arm, hard enough that he nearly jumped, all sleepiness gone. Quite effective.

Having Si Kuanglan keep her company on stakeouts wasn’t going to happen anyway—Young Master Liu was annoying at worst, but at least she had someone to chat with. If it were him instead… forget it, no point courting misery. Besides, he’d gone out with Steward Miao the day before yesterday afternoon and still hadn’t come back—who knew what business he was off resolving this time. Anyway, ever since that night he’d taken her pulse, Si Kuanglan hadn’t come looking for her. Better that way—she didn’t have time to spare for him right now anyway. She’d already decided: once she cured the Stone Solids’ anxiety, she’d go demand credit for it, chin held high. Saving the walls of the Si estate alone was a major achievement—asking for a year’s wages as a reward wasn’t too much, was it? Oh wait… hadn’t he still not paid her the three months’ wages he’d promised before?!

Just as she was drifting off in thought, the sound of a night watchman’s clapper drifted up from the street.

Young Master Liu shook his head. “I’m afraid tonight’s a waste too. I thought you had a solid plan, turns out it’s just a dumb method.”

Tao Yao felt a bit discouraged too. If Young Master Liu was right, and the creature had already caught enough Stone Solids and wouldn’t show again, then dealing with it would be genuinely difficult.

“Got any brilliant ideas?” Her gaze still moved restlessly, unwilling to miss any anomaly in the deep night. “We just have to hold out until dawn. If we can’t find a trace of it in seven days, then we’ll have no choice but—”

“Have no choice but to turn into a fake demon and turn it in, right? I told you my plan would work!”

“—but to have you spend some effort casting a stabilizing spell on every house beneath our feet, especially the old, run-down ones. That way, even if the timid Stone Solids all flee, at least the buildings won’t collapse.”

“Get lost! Is that even how a stabilizing spell is supposed to be used? Do you hate me that much, wanting me to bet half my life on this? Why don’t you do it yourself!”

“Casting spells has always been your specialty… my medicine can’t exactly reinforce buildings. Worst case, I’ll brew you a pot of tonic soup afterward. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to restore whatever vital energy you lose.”

“You’re serious?”

“Better one person suffers than both of us, right?”

“You…”

“Don’t be so pessimistic yet, it’s only the third day. Gotta have hope while being a snake!” Tao Yao quickly patted his shoulder, glancing again toward the direction of the Si estate. This time, neither of them had been idle—she’d assigned Mo Ya and Gungun to keep watch over the Stone Solids at the Si estate, instructing them firmly to make sure none of the little creatures snuck out, and to burn paper to send word immediately if anything unusual happened and the two of them weren’t back yet.

Though the method was clumsy, and there was no guarantee of results, still—for the sake of her beloved Xiao Zhao’s soup shop and any other shops that might suffer the same fate and that she happened to like, she’d try everything she could.

So far, no word had come from Mo Ya, meaning all was well at the Si estate. On their end, it looked like they’d likely come away empty-handed again.

Just then, Tao Yao’s roaming gaze suddenly stopped. She stared toward the front left for a good while, then nudged Young Master Liu with her elbow. “Am I imagining it, or is that the same cat again?”

Young Master Liu followed her gaze—about two rooftops away, at some point a large black cat, easily twice the size of a normal one, had settled down, its blue and green eyes glowing in the night like two small lanterns.

If Tao Yao hadn’t mentioned it, Young Master Liu wouldn’t have realized, but now that she brought it up, he did recall seeing this black cat on different rooftops these past few nights. At first he hadn’t thought it strange—the city was full of stray cats, and one wandering rooftops and walls at night was nothing unusual; no one would give it a second glance.

But encountering the same cat three nights running was too much of a coincidence… it had to be the same cat—its size and coloring were too different from ordinary strays for there to be a second one like it.

Tao Yao frowned in thought, then stared at Young Master Liu. “Did you eat a rat and forget to brush your teeth?”

Young Master Liu nearly slid off the roof. “When have I ever eaten a rat?!”

Tao Yao sniffed at herself. “I didn’t eat any fish today either…”

They were watching the cat, and the cat was watching them too—quite different from the past two nights when it had seemed to pass by without noticing them. Now it seemed to want them to know, on purpose, that it had noticed them too, and was rather pleased to be noticed.

Before they could react, the black cat suddenly leapt down from the roof and vanished.

“Follow it.”

Tao Yao grabbed Young Master Liu’s arm, and the two of them landed silently on the rooftop where the black cat had jumped down. Looking down, on the wall of a courtyard not far below, the black cat stood atop the wall, something small, dark, and still squirming clenched in its mouth.

A rat?!

That was Tao Yao and Young Master Liu’s instinctive assumption, but looking more closely, what stuck out struggling wasn’t a rat’s tail, but limbs shaped like a human’s, and a round head with a pair of large ears…

A Stone Solid?!

Had this cat actually caught a Stone Solid? Just as they were registering their surprise, the black cat leapt down into the courtyard with the Stone Solid still in its mouth.

Looked like tonight wouldn’t be a total loss after all. The two of them followed suit, jumping into the courtyard—an ordinary residence, windows half-open, no lamplight, only the faint sound of snoring drifting out from within.

Having caught its prey, shouldn’t it head somewhere secluded to deal with it? Why jump toward an inhabited place instead? Curious, they quickly spotted the black cat’s trail in the corner of the courtyard’s east wall.

It was crouched there now, seemingly unconcerned about being followed in. It opened its mouth, and the Stone Solid tumbled to the ground, curling up against the wall, trembling with its head in its hands.

Cats were known to toy with prey before eating it—was it planning to scare it first before feasting? That wouldn’t do—if the cat ate it, who knew which wall or household would suffer next.

The two of them were about to step forward to stop it, when the black cat extended a paw and patted the wall. “Get back in.”

Huh? Had she heard wrong? The cat spoke?

At those words, the Stone Solid scrambled frantically into a crack in the wall.

“Come out again and I’ll eat you.”

It was a young woman’s voice, clear and crisp, carrying a cold edge that brooked no defiance.

“Did you hear that too?”

“I heard it.”

Tao Yao and Young Master Liu confirmed to each other that their ears weren’t malfunctioning.

Truly just a cat, then, nothing else strange about it. Speaking, though… could some expert have transformed it with a spell?

The black cat turned around, its blue and green eyes calmly fixed on the two of them. “I’m not the target you’re looking for.”

Tao Yao stepped out from the shadows, smiling. “If you were the malevolent creature, why would you bother luring the Stone Solid out just to put it back?”

“Whose cat are you? State your name,” Young Master Liu said warily, eyeing it with the caution due any potential danger a talking cat might pose.

“I didn’t want to get entangled with you two.” The black cat didn’t answer him directly, only said, “But watching you two clamber over rooftops sleeplessly for three nights, clumsy as it’s been, was well-intentioned—so tonight, I’ll give you the chance to speak with me.”

What a condescending cat. Was it more confident just because it was bigger?

An encounter between a god and a mortal probably wouldn’t feel much different from this—this cat was more full of itself than an actual deity.

Tao Yao held its gaze for a moment, then smiled. “Different species, no way to communicate. Suit yourself.” With that, she pulled Young Master Liu around and started to walk away.

This was apparently the last thing it expected. The black cat immediately panicked, leaping in front of them in two or three bounds, all its earlier haughtiness gone, blocking their path. “We can communicate, we can! I can talk properly, can’t I?!”

The speed of that reversal was more than they’d expected too. Tao Yao snorted. “Since you know to talk properly, then talk properly to me.”

The black cat glanced back toward the window. “Let’s change locations, so we don’t wake the humans. It’s inconvenient for us too.”

Agreed.

The two of them and the cat climbed back over the courtyard wall, returning to the rooftops—for peace and quiet with no one around, this was still the more convenient spot.

“I came to help, not to cause trouble.” The black cat held its head high, the long fur on its neck fluttering in the night wind like a stubborn little lion.

“To help?” Tao Yao stared at its proud feline face. “Help catch the Stone Solids that got wind of the danger and tried to flee?”

“I do what I can. Stone Solids can only leave their nests at night, and my eyesight in darkness is far better than yours. These past days I’ve driven back quite a few Stone Solids, but I still missed Xiao Zhao’s soup shop and those two other stores.” The black cat crouched on the tiles, licking its paw. “The first night you two came out, I saw you. I more or less overheard you talking about the Stone Solids, and realized you were doing the same thing I was.”

“Not the same.” Tao Yao shook her head. “As formidable as you are, you can’t possibly catch every Stone Solid trying to flee. Looking at how proud and arrogant you are, you shouldn’t be reduced to this kind of stopgap busywork.” She paused, looking out over the sleeping city below. “Cats are creatures born for the night—sharp of ear and eye, quick of movement. Nothing that stirs in this city, great or small, escapes your notice. And you, this cat… let’s just call you a cat for now—you got involved in the Stone Solid crisis before we did, which means you know far more than we do.”

The black cat kept licking its paw, saying nothing.

“You’re not just here to help, are you?” Tao Yao thought for a moment, then smiled. “Did it take you three days to decide to come formally meet with us?”

The black cat stopped, lowered its paw.

“This Stone Solid crisis—not huge, not small either. I imagine you understand the stakes, which is why you’ve gone to such trouble to drive the fleeing Stone Solids back.” Tao Yao crouched down, looking directly into its beautiful eyes. “The malevolent thing the Stone Solids speak of—you already know its origins, don’t you?”

The black cat fell silent again for a moment, then finally met Tao Yao’s gaze. “Lord Tao Yao, must I burn paper first before you’ll agree to treat the patient?”

Tao Yao raised an eyebrow. “You know who I am?”

“Wherever the golden bell passes, nothing survives.” The black cat stared at the golden bell on her wrist. “I’ve crossed paths with Lord Tao Yao before. You’re a busy, important person, you’ve simply forgotten. But the golden bell, the red robes, and that eccentric temper of yours—none of it’s changed over the years.”

Tao Yao scratched her head. Had she really met this big black cat before? She had absolutely no memory of it.

“You said ‘treat’…” She looked the black cat over again. “The one who’s sick isn’t you, is it?”

The black cat looked off into the distance, answering an unrelated question. “I could have eaten it, you know.”

Tao Yao exchanged a glance with Young Master Liu. So it did know the details.

“I kept hesitating.” Its gaze, suddenly grown deep, shifted within those blue-green eyes. “I’m no doctor, I don’t understand healing. All I can do is eat whatever I dislike.”

Tao Yao winked at Young Master Liu. “You two should become sworn siblings, cut from the same cloth.”

Young Master Liu rolled his eyes.

“But have you forgotten—I don’t just treat demons, I also kill them.” Tao Yao looked at the black cat, smiling. “If you’re asking me to treat some acquaintance of yours, you’d better be prepared for the possibility that it’s beyond saving.”

“I know.” The black cat looked at her. “That’s why I only came to find you today. I was afraid that if I waited any longer, it truly would become incurable.”

Tao Yao considered this, then smiled. “You’ve got quite the scheme going, haven’t you—capable of handling this yourself, yet going to such lengths to find an excuse for treatment, so that I’ll be the one to finish it off? That way, all the wrongdoing falls on me, and you get to keep your merciful heart intact.”

“Tch!” The black cat scoffed. “Lord Tao Yao overthinks things. I’ve killed more than I can count—mercy has nothing to do with me. A compassionate heart would only be a burden.” It looked again toward the distant, lamp-lit horizon. “If it truly can’t be saved, then let it be killed.”

The night wind blew past, carrying some unnamable sorrow from somewhere, settling right into a pair of feline eyes, like a drop of water into a deep pool, vanishing again in an instant without a trace.

Young Master Liu pulled her back a couple of steps, murmuring, “This cat’s showing up awfully conveniently. Shouldn’t we tie it up first and get the full story?”

“It’s just a little cat, it’s not going to eat me. Besides, you’re right here—who eats whom is still up in the air.” Tao Yao patted his shoulder. “Resolving the Stone Solid matter quickly is the priority. Let’s hear what it has to say first. If it turns out to be nonsense, there’s still time to tie it up.”

With that, she stepped forward and looked the black cat over once more from head to toe, clicking her tongue meaningfully. “This fur is gorgeous, so glossy and sleek—clearly a well-fed cat.” She reached out to pet its head, but it dodged away.

“If you have something to say, say it. I don’t like being petted.” The black cat raised a paw, sharp claws flashing into view. “Everyone who’s tried to pet me before ended up in tears.”

“Stingy. Petting you once isn’t going to make you bald.” Tao Yao pouted. “Fine. Burning paper is normally an unbreakable rule, but seeing as you don’t look like you have any paper to burn, I’ll make an exception. Just promise me one thing, and I’ll take on this patient.”

The black cat asked immediately, “What?”

“I’m not treating you, but once this is resolved, you’ll serve as my medicine too.” Tao Yao blinked, waving her left hand. “You’ll put your seal on it, as the rules require.”

The black cat considered this for a moment. “Deal.”

Tao Yao grinned slyly. “Straightforward. You’re such a rare find—I’ll be sure to make full use of you in the future.”

“Then it’s settled.” Having secured the promise, the black cat raised a paw and pointed north, hesitated a moment more, then said, “It’s in Iron Mirror Town.”

3

Night, the Ling residence.

In the room, the old patriarch and his wife, along with the young mistress, watched anxiously and hopefully as the white-bearded old man emerged from the sickroom. The patriarch went to meet him, cupping his hands. “Physician He, is there any hope of a turnaround for my son’s condition?”

The old man stroked his beard and sighed.

Everyone’s hearts sank at once.

Lady Ling looked ready to collapse; the young mistress quickly helped support her, forcing back her own grief to comfort her mother-in-law. “The physician hasn’t said anything yet, Mother, don’t worry yet.”

The patriarch clenched his fists and asked the doctor, “Have you determined what illness it is?”

The physician stepped aside, his face full of shame as he cupped his hands toward the patriarch. “In sixty years of practicing medicine, I have never seen such a bizarre and malignant affliction. I am truly at a loss, and I have failed the trust placed in me. Please seek out someone more capable as soon as possible, or else”—he lowered his voice—”young master Ling’s situation is grave indeed.”

“You are already among the finest physicians in the capital. Even if there were someone more skilled, they would be hard to find on short notice. Could you think a little more?” The patriarch, sweat beading on his forehead, pressed anxiously.

The physician said plainly, “It’s not that I’m unwilling to find a solution—I truly cannot think of one. A condition like young master Ling’s is something one might see only once in a century. If I had even the faintest idea of what to do, I wouldn’t be standing here disappointing everyone.”

The patriarch said, disappointed, “We know you are a physician who saves whoever can be saved and never shirks responsibility—but must you really not even write a prescription?”

“Writing one would only waste money on medicine that does nothing.” The old physician shook his head.

“So be it, then. If that’s how it is, I won’t press further.” The patriarch gestured for him to go. “Please rest for now. We’ll see you home first thing in the morning.”

Relieved at the patriarch’s words, the physician saluted everyone and hurriedly gathered his medicine chest, fleeing the room that had fallen into such deep despair.

Watching the physician’s hurried retreat, Lady Ling forced herself to stand, eyes red, and said to the patriarch, “Even this renowned physician can’t help. What’s to become of Wang’er?”

Fighting back his own anguish, the patriarch took his wife’s hand. “This physician couldn’t treat him, but there are other physicians. Don’t lose heart!” He drew a deep breath—as head of the Ling family, he could not allow himself to weep—and gritted his teeth. “If every path proves impassable, then we can only blame our family’s misfortune, that Wang’er’s blessings and fate were too thin.”

“Nothing will happen to him. My husband has spent his whole life acting with chivalry and kindness toward others—heaven won’t stand by and watch him suffer this.” The young mistress gripped both elders’ hands tightly, refusing to show even a trace of despair. “Let’s first use the thousand-year ginseng and the White Jade Spirit-Settling Pills I brought from my family home. Even if they aren’t a perfect match for the illness, they should still do some good. There’s always a way!”

“Wanqing… this has been so hard on you!”

Lady Ling embraced her daughter-in-law, tears streaming down. The three of them—two elders and the young wife—could no longer hold back the pain that had built up over the days, and wept together in each other’s arms.

At this moment, the calmest person in the entire Ling household was probably Ling Shuwang himself.

Ever since that sudden fainting spell three months ago, he had not left his bedroom.

In the first few days, his chest ached constantly, day and night. The physician summoned at the time diagnosed it as excess heart-fire, prescribing medicine to calm the heart and clear the heat. After taking it for a few days, the pain had indeed lessened considerably. Just as the whole family began to think he was in the clear, he woke one morning feeling wrong—a numbing sensation spreading from his chest to his limbs, until he no longer even had the strength to sit up. They summoned physicians again, but nothing they prescribed helped anymore. His condition worsened by the day; besides the full-body weakness, his mind grew increasingly confused, until eventually he no longer recognized his own parents, wife, or child, lying all day like a soulless husk.

The Ling family exhausted every effort to bring in countless renowned physicians, but Ling Shuwang’s condition showed no improvement at all. Just as everyone grew increasingly desperate, his illness took an even more severe turn. About four or five days ago, in the middle of the night, Ling Shuwang had actually climbed out of bed and stood by the window, staring blankly out at the scenery. His wife, thinking he’d suddenly recovered, joyfully called the old patriarch and his wife over—only for it to nearly take half the old couple’s remaining strength when, as they told him to come back and lie down, they discovered something wrong with his feet: what should have been a perfectly normal pair of feet had turned an ashen gray, stone-like, unable to move even a step. In the end, they had to physically carry him back to bed.

Even more terrifying, the “petrification” affliction on his body seemed to be spreading. Just two days ago it had only affected his feet; today, even his calves were involved, turned to stone as well. At this rate, in less than ten days, wouldn’t a perfectly living man turn into a stone statue?!

They cried out his name, but his eyes remained fixed and unresponsive, giving no reaction to them at all, only occasionally muttering words that no one could understand.

Today’s physician had been the Ling family’s last hope—they had gone to great trouble to bring him back from the capital, only to end up with someone who couldn’t even write a prescription.

Tonight, without question, would be another sleepless night.

At least, that’s what the young mistress, who had been tending to him constantly, believed. Ever since Ling Shuwang fell ill, she had not slept a full, unbroken night. Even when overwhelmed with exhaustion, she only dozed briefly before waking again, terrified of missing any change in his condition.

Tonight would be spent the same way.

In the candlelit room, she sat beside him, holding his hand, calling his name over and over, telling him again and again what had happened that day—how many times Lu’er had come by, how many times he’d called out “Papa.”

Deep conjugal devotion, never leaving his side—this, surely, was what it looked like.

A gust of wind from some unknown direction blew out what remained of the candle, and the young mistress, exhausted beyond her limits, finally gave up her last effort at wakefulness, slumping asleep by the bedside.

A faint blue light drifted in through the window, and upon touching the ground, transformed into a woman in a blue robe—delicate and fair of face, small and slender in build, long, slightly wavy black hair hanging to her waist. Aside from a black ring on a string of thread around her neck, she wore no other ornaments, plain as a painting sketched only in light ink—except that beneath her skirt hem was revealed a faintly shimmering blue fish tail.

She stood silently before his bed, bending down to gently stroke his face.

Three months ago, she had appeared before him again on just such a moonlit night.

He had thought she was only a dream. He called her name, but she only smiled, saying nothing. They sat by the window, and he told her how much he missed her. She kept smiling, still saying nothing. Since it was all a dream anyway, he could say whatever he’d been keeping hidden. She listened quietly, still nuzzling his face with her nose the way she used to. She was still so cold—her soft nose tip like ice—and he suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness. After all these years, was she still alone?

She gazed at him, extended her hand, and a single tear-shaped drop of clear water slowly turned in her palm. She pinched up this drop of water and brought it to his lips.

It smelled wonderful, like the soup she used to make for him. Without a second thought, he opened his mouth and swallowed it. Sure enough, that same delicious taste from memory.

She rose, leading him back to the bed, guiding him to lie back down beside his wife—this woman who, even in sleep, lay so perfectly, properly still, now sunk in a dream from which she would not wake.

He wanted to sit up, but she gently pressed him back down, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier; he tried to call her name but couldn’t get the words out. Before his consciousness faded, he only saw her withdraw silently, turning back into light, vanishing out the window.

The next day, recalling this dream, he could never remember her face, no matter how hard he tried. He picked up his brush to paint her, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t capture her features—only the faint taste of that soup lingering on his palate, and all the subtle, turning emotions in his heart.

Just a dream, after all. The one standing before him, living and breathing, was his wife and son.

But she had never been a dream to him. She, too, was a living, breathing person who had existed in his life.

Over these three months, she had fed him “soup” the same way three times, and then… waited. To her, mere months felt as slow as the nearly-dried-up river running through the town, trickling along haltingly, maddening.

Tonight, she came to see him again, still without making a sound, only letting her fingers wander over his clearly defined features, finally resting on his lips.

Moonlight like silver, a long dream running deep.

The young mistress slept until dawn. The first thing she did upon waking was check on her husband’s condition, her heart filled with guilt, furious with herself for being so useless as to sleep through the night like that.

Ling Shuwang’s condition had, as expected, worsened further. The stone was now nearly reaching his knees.

Those ashen, hardened parts had drawn the entire Ling family into the deepest abyss of despair.

Who could save him?

Who?!

4

Spring nights were always full of gentle scents, and ambushed by all kinds of sweet dangers too, even the moonlight taking on an especially charming quality.

The tallest tree in Iron Mirror Town grew beside a small river on the south side of town. From its highest branches, the entire town’s scenery spread out below, unobstructed.

Unfortunately, no one dared climb that high, missing out on such fine scenery for nothing.

The moon seemed unusually close tonight, as if hanging right from the branches. In the clear, gentle light, a woman leaned against the trunk, her head tilted slightly back. Beneath her wind-stirred skirt hem, a blue fish tail swayed among the highest branches, idly swinging back and forth.

She loved this tree—had lived here ever since the day she arrived in Iron Mirror Town. At night she could see the most beautiful moonlight; by day, the smoke rising from the Ling family’s kitchen.

She lowered her eyelids, silently counting on her fingers as if calculating something, her delicate face full of hope and anticipation.

They said Iron Mirror Town had beautiful scenery, a pleasant place to be—but no one knew that the town’s finest view was, in this moment, her.

If she weren’t in such a hurry, Tao Yao would genuinely have loved to sit as close as possible, and with a grateful heart, properly admire this fish sunbathing on a tree. After all, not everyone had the fortune or the visual privilege to personally witness one of the rarest and most beautiful demons in the world—the shore fish.

Even someone like Tao Yao had only seen one two or three times before.

The Compendium of a Hundred Demons recorded: the shore fish, a distant relative of the merfolk, human-bodied with a fish’s tail, dwelling not in water but on shore, often nesting in tall trees near water. Both male and female are beautiful, their voices exquisite, their temperament gentle, skilled at hypnotism and dream-weaving, able to enchant hearts. Yet few grow strong, their lifespans short, their numbers ever dwindling.

In this present age, to see a living shore fish required great fortune indeed.

But a shore fish and Stone Solids… were two species with absolutely nothing to do with each other.

Tao Yao stood carefully on a lower branch, looking up at the quietly perched fish. The moonlight was so lovely tonight, and shore fish loved most to sing to the moon. She’d once had the good fortune to hear it—what words like “voice like glazed crystal,” “echoing round the rafters for three days,” “pearls large and small falling on a jade plate” could possibly do justice to it, no earthly words were adequate to describe the beauty of a shore fish’s song. In any case, someone as unrefined and indifferent to music as herself, after hearing it, had found her greatest impulse was actually to rush out and offer them a free prescription for throat maintenance, then grab their hands and beg them earnestly to protect that voice like their very life!

Privately, she was hoping to hear it again… but why wasn’t this one making a sound at all?

Bad mood? Her expression didn’t look off, though…

“Not hearing you sing makes even the moon look a little lonely,” Tao Yao finally spoke.

The fish’s brow furrowed slightly, and she glanced toward Tao Yao—someone had suddenly appeared in the tree, yet she showed not the slightest surprise. After that single glance, her gaze returned to its original spot, either back to the moon or to her own fingers, as if Tao Yao’s arrival hadn’t even made as much noise as a falling leaf.

“Stone Solids aren’t exactly edible, you know, no matter how you cook them.” Tao Yao looked up; the tail, still idly swaying, showed no more interest in acknowledging her than its owner.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Tao Yao’s natural fondness for shore fish as a species, the young woman in the tree would probably be lying face-down on the ground by now.

Tao Yao kept her patience. “I just went to see young master Ling. Give it a little more time, and I’m afraid he’ll need to change his name to young master Stone. You really don’t care?”

No response. She sat there quietly still.

“If you have a reasonable explanation, you’re a patient. If not, you’re a malevolent demon,” Tao Yao said, her smile turning cold. “Pick one already. Don’t waste other people’s sincere efforts to seek my help.”

She kept sitting there, counting on her fingers as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

Hold on, hold on, don’t hit her yet…

Tao Yao thought for a moment, then looked up with a smile. “You want so badly to turn young master Ling to stone—other physicians may have no solution, but this physician disagrees. The Stone Solid poison in his body isn’t difficult to remove. All your painstaking effort may be for nothing.”

At those words, she seemed to jolt awake as if from a dream, her expression changing abruptly, like a child whose candy had just been snatched away, flaring with fury. A suppressed, furious shriek tore from her mouth, and the surrounding branches shook in response.

Tao Yao was actually startled—not by her sudden fury, but by her voice… it was TERRIBLE! There was no way that could be a shore fish’s voice; even a cracked gong would sound better. She nearly clapped her hands over her ears.

At the same moment, the shaking branches turned toward her as their target, and under the drive of some furious power, all of them surged toward her at once, transforming mid-charge into red-eyed, fanged serpents, a ferocious intent to tear her to shreds bearing down on her.

She was really angry? Quite the temper on her…

Tao Yao leapt aside; the “serpents” struck empty air, crashing together where she’d just been standing, twisting into a comically tangled knot.

Before she could laugh, she felt something wrong beneath her feet—maybe the light was bad, maybe her luck was off, but her leap had landed on the worst possible branch… a crack, her heart dropped, and she went tumbling down from the tree, grimacing.

Luckily, someone caught the back of her collar partway down and hauled her up—not the most dignified way to land, dangling like a plucked chicken, but at least she landed safely.

“Told you not to climb so high, and you had to anyway.” Young Master Liu frowned. “Since we already know it’s this thing, why not just take it down directly?”

Before he’d even finished speaking, the “serpents” lunged again, undeterred. By now the entire tree had transformed, twisting under the moonlight into a towering, grotesque monster, every branch eagerly turning into a snake baring its fangs, surging down toward them. And the shore fish sat coldly atop the monster’s shoulder, her lovely tail still swaying, watching as if waiting to enjoy the spectacle of a bloodbath.

She shouldn’t be capable of such vicious demonic behavior. She really was sick.

“Don’t kill it! We need it alive!!” Tao Yao shouted, terrified that if Young Master Liu got carried away, the fish would be done for…

Young Master Liu snorted coldly, baring the sharp serpent fangs in his mouth. Being attacked with fake snakes, real or not, right in front of him—what a joke. He rushed forward at incredible speed, and without even needing to reveal his true form, in just a few strikes, severed snake heads and bodies rained down, turning back into their original form the moment they touched the ground—nothing but scattered broken branches and leaves.

In the chaos, Young Master Liu leapt straight up, seized the shore fish in one motion, giving it no chance to struggle at all, and struck a blow to the back of its neck. It didn’t even manage a groan before going completely limp, sliding into his arms. At the same moment, as it lost consciousness, the transformed, monstrous tree returned to its normal shape—missing most of its branches and leaves, though.

Young Master Liu landed back on the ground, cradling the shore fish, finding this creature in his arms as light as a leaf that might drift away at any moment.

The black cat, like some passerby watching the excitement, crouched not far from them, occasionally licking its paw, seemingly indifferent, though its bright feline eyes kept glancing over with concern.

Young Master Liu carefully laid the shore fish down on the fallen leaves. Tao Yao came over to examine her thoroughly, then set down her cold hand and looked up at Young Master Liu. “I know why she’s not singing.”

Young Master Liu frowned. “That terrifying screech…”

“Her voice-sense meridian is damaged. Her ear meridian is fine, but her throat meridian is gone.” Tao Yao looked at this demon, once famous for its “exquisite voice,” with deep regret. “Aside from that horrible shriek, she can’t make any other sound at all.”

The black cat, mid-lick, froze for a moment, then continued its grooming.

“Related to how it’s been catching the Stone Solids?” Young Master Liu’s eyes turned. “The Stone Solids said something strange was luring them out—could it have screamed itself hoarse doing it?”

“You think Stone Solids are like me, popping out the moment someone yells ‘dinner’s ready’?!” Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “These dumb demons live year-round inside brick walls, only sensitive to the sounds of their own kind. A shore fish’s voice may have hypnotic, dream-weaving, heart-enchanting power, but it’s useless on low-intelligence creatures like Stone Solids.” She turned back to the black cat. “You there, licking your paw—you’ve seen it catch Stone Solids before, haven’t you? Did it use some kind of tool?”

The black cat smacked its lips. “I only saw from a distance. It just stood high on a rooftop, no tool in hand at all, just pursing its mouth like whistling—except I never heard any sound come out.”

“That is strange, then.” Tao Yao lowered her head, searching the shore fish thoroughly from head to toe once more, finally fixing her gaze on the black stone ring around its neck.

She removed the ring, examined it closely in the moonlight, rolled it between her fingers, then dashed to the riverbank, scooped up a handful of river water, and poured it over the ring. The black, murky thing instantly turned a clear jade green. When Tao Yao wiped the water off, it turned black again.

“What are you doing?” Young Master Liu asked, puzzled.

Tao Yao gripped the ring, frowning. “This ring is refined from Stone Solids. If you hold it in your mouth and push air through it, humans can’t hear anything, but Stone Solids hear it perfectly clearly. Combined with the fact that a shore fish is itself an enchanting demon, paired with this Stone Solid ring, the sound it produces becomes a death-summoning tune that draws Stone Solids out to their doom automatically.”

“It knows a technique like this?” Young Master Liu couldn’t help but be curious. “It’s just a ring, but refining a demon-item like this requires no small level of cultivation. I don’t think it has that kind of ability. Using demonic power to confuse our vision, then a low-level attack—that’s already its limit. Besides, if it can only lure Stone Solids using this ring, then before it had the ring, how did it get the chance to catch Stone Solids to refine the ring in the first place?”

“That’s exactly what puzzles me too.” Tao Yao looked at the small black object, thoughtful. “Who gave this to her… who taught her this method… and why is her throat meridian gone? Why has her body become this light?”

“Just ask her!!” Young Master Liu rolled up his sleeves. “No need for your medicine—I’ll shake her awake myself!”

“Don’t!” Tao Yao pushed away his outstretched hand, glaring at him. “You know perfectly well her throat meridian is gone—even if she wakes up, she can’t speak. Besides, given how she just was, it’s clearly an inner demon at work, her spiritual consciousness unclear too. You still expect her to tell you in person?”

“Then what do we do?”

“Since we’re here to treat her, there’s naturally a way. Don’t rush me, let me think.”

At this, the black cat stepped forward a few paces, looking at the motionless fish. “What she has… really is a serious illness, isn’t it.”

“Mute and mad… I’d call that serious.” Tao Yao shrugged, glancing sideways at the black cat. “It’s rather strange, though—a cat, pleading with me on behalf of a fish.”

“Yes. I find it rather annoying myself,” the black cat said seriously. “If I’d just eaten her back then, I wouldn’t have to be groveling to you today.”

Tao Yao stared at this seemingly honest, sincere feline face. “From when you came to find me, to now… from the capital to Iron Mirror Town… you haven’t mentioned even the slightest bit of your history with her. She’s lost her throat meridian and can’t speak—did you lose yours too?”

The black cat blinked. “You never asked me either.”

“Shouldn’t you have volunteered it?” Tao Yao wanted to yank its whiskers.

“I thought treating an illness was just treating an illness—especially for someone as skilled as you. Isn’t it just a matter of finding the patient and giving them some miracle medicine?” The black cat looked at the unconscious fish. “Those unrelated little details, I didn’t think they mattered.”

“You think treating an illness is as simple as just giving medicine?” Tao Yao shot it a withering look. “To root out an illness, you must know its cause, or you’ll only treat the symptoms, never the source.”

“Isn’t the cause just that she’s lost her mind? Desperately catching Stone Solids to feed to that man—first endangering the capital’s buildings, second turning that man from a living person into a statue.” The black cat spoke with conviction.

“Lost her mind?” Tao Yao scoffed. “I’m the one here—since when do you get to diagnose the illness? Even madness needs a cause behind it. Not some random person, but specifically the young master of the Ling family—without knowing her fixation, what medicine could I possibly prescribe to address it? Cat, the information you’ve given me is nowhere near enough.”

“I…” The black cat stamped its foot. “I don’t know what kind of entanglement this useless creature has with that man named Ling either! We hadn’t seen each other in decades—I only ran into her half a month before you two did.” The black cat sighed. “That night, when we met again, given her behavior luring Stone Solids to their deaths, eating her on the spot would have been righteous, would have been my duty. But… in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Watching her from a distance, she still looked as delicate and lovely as she did back then, but those eyes, like something monstrous, were so unfamiliar to me. I followed her all the way to Iron Mirror Town, watched as she ate the Stone Solids she caught, then spit out a drop of something bright and clear like water from her mouth. I thought she was cultivating some technique, but instead she fed it to that man. I’ve seen no small number of demons, and I roughly know their capabilities, but I’ve genuinely never encountered anything like turning Stone Solids into water to feed to a human. Looking at that man’s terrible state, I don’t even know how many times she’s fed him this. I truly don’t understand her purpose in doing this—if she held a grudge and wanted him dead, why go to such elaborate lengths? But I don’t understand medicine, so I couldn’t treat that man’s petrification, nor could I treat her madness.” The black cat looked up at Tao Yao, speaking earnestly. “I’ve tried passing by where she could see me, and she acted as if she didn’t know me at all, not even a glance. Maybe she really has forgotten me. Maybe she really has gone mad… aside from her entanglement with that man, there’s nothing else left in her heart.”

Hearing this, Tao Yao looked at the cat, then at the fish, and suddenly said, “You really do like her, don’t you.”

The cat’s face froze.

“Whether she likes her or not, let’s set that aside for now.” Young Master Liu, as if remembering something, cut in. “Whether it’s madness or not, let’s also set that aside for now—but am I the only one who thinks young master Ling’s situation seems more dire? You said yourself you don’t know how many Stone Solids he’s eaten…”

“Left unchecked, at most another three or four days, and young master Ling really will become young master Stone.” Tao Yao frowned, calculating. “I don’t treat humans, but the shore fish is my patient. From the looks of it, whether love or hatred, her illness stems from young master Ling one way or another—so treating young master Ling is, in effect, treating her… yes, that logic holds up.”

She considered a moment longer, then took an orange pill from her pouch and pressed it into the shore fish’s mouth, saying to the black cat, “This is a mind-settling, soul-nourishing tonic—it’ll keep her calm and resting for now. We’re heading to the Ling residence next. You can’t help there anyway, so stay here and watch over her.”

The black cat nodded, no objection.

Soon, Tao Yao and Young Master Liu vanished into the night. Before coming, they’d thought this would be an easy case to resolve, nothing more than a minor demon—but now it seemed there was more trouble than expected.

The moon, having just emerged from behind the clouds, showed its full face again. The night wind blew past; Iron Mirror Town remained sunk in its peaceful dream, undisturbed by anything.

The black cat lay down, and close to its own ear, muttered to itself somewhat angrily, “Didn’t I say to live a good life properly… and it’s come to this?”

In this small world beneath the tree, only a cat and a fish remained, along with a ground of scattered leaves and moonlight.

5

Outside the window, the sky had begun to show a faint glow.

Tao Yao sat before Ling Shuwang’s sickbed, saying nothing for a long while.

The young mistress lay slumped at the table, sleeping as deeply as everyone else in the Ling household—the kind of sleep you couldn’t wake from even if carried off and sold.

Young Master Liu’s deep-sleep spell had only needed two-tenths of its strength; more than enough.

“Not easy to treat?” Young Master Liu, noting her expression, asked, “Weren’t you just boasting to the shore fish’s face that treating Stone Solid poison would be easy?”

“The medicine I just gave him to expel the demonic poison didn’t work.” Tao Yao frowned.

“No effect at all?” Young Master Liu stepped forward, lifting the corner of the blanket—Ling Shuwang’s body below the waist was still stone.

“This shouldn’t be happening.” He looked somewhat astonished. “Your medicine, Tao Yao—it shouldn’t be unable to handle something as minor as Stone Solid poison.”

“I don’t think it should be either.” Tao Yao weighed the pouch at her waist. “Every pill in here I made with my own hands—maybe not miraculous, but there’s never been a case of it having zero effect.”

“Check again?” Young Master Liu tucked the blanket back around him. “Maybe you missed something?”

“I’ve examined every organ in his body.” She looked at young master Ling’s pale, sleeping face. “He’s not just afflicted with Stone Solid poison—there’s something else too.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know yet. But his pulse is unusually strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Like there are two people’s pulses.”

“…Preg… pregnancy pulse?”

“You want to try being pregnant and let me see?”

“I was just saying…”

Tao Yao stood up abruptly, shaking her head. “This still comes back to the shore fish. If she won’t come clean honestly, this will be very hard to handle.”

“In that mad state, what could she possibly tell us clearly?” Young Master Liu didn’t think this was a good approach, rubbing his head. “One holds the key to the other’s fixation, the other holds the cure—and now both are out of their minds. Ugh… this really is difficult. Our physician Tao Yao has finally hit a tricky case.”

Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re actually excited about this?”

“If things go too smoothly all the time, it’s not good for improving your skills.” Young Master Liu smiled. “More difficult cases are a good thing. I have confidence in you.”

“Are you trying to comfort me?” Tao Yao glared at him, mind already working through possible solutions.

Young Master Liu patted her head. “I just want you to keep getting better, that’s all.”

“Of course I’ll keep getting better!” Tao Yao pushed his hand away. “Don’t dispel the deep-sleep spell yet, let them sleep a while longer.” With that, she took out another pill and had Ling Shuwang swallow it, saying, “I need a place where no outsiders will disturb us.”

“What are you planning to do?” Young Master Liu looked at Ling Shuwang; the pill seemed to have an almost immediate effect, his color improving somewhat.

“This pill will protect his heart meridian, keep the petrification from progressing further. It’s not a cure, but if worst comes to worst… at least he’ll keep half his body.” With that, she glanced out the window. “Go fetch them and bring them here.”

“You’ve really figured something out?” Young Master Liu, worried she might be pushing herself too hard, said, “Actually… the danger to the Stone Solids has already been resolved. You don’t have to keep taking on more than necessary. Whether it’s between humans, or between humans and demons, these are each their own fated entanglements—you don’t have to intervene every single time. I think Lei Shen already struck some sense into you about that.”He looked earnestly at Tao Yao’s face. “You’ve been working too hard, too tired lately.”

“Worried something will happen to me?” Tao Yao smiled. “The dangerous fighting work has always been yours to do. What could happen to a physician who just prescribes medicine—either it works or it doesn’t.”

“True, you’re more afraid of death than anyone.” Young Master Liu pursed his lips, tucking away the concern that had briefly slipped out, saying only, “I keep feeling this whole affair is oddly suspicious. This shore fish doesn’t seem like any demon you’ve treated before.”

“I think you’re the odd one—weren’t you just telling me you had confidence in me?”

“I have confidence in you, and I’m suggesting you don’t need to get involved—these aren’t contradictory. Just an extra option, that’s all.”

“Then I choose to confidently get involved. Go, quickly!”

“Are you scheming something else again? Do you really have to treat this fish?!”

“A healer’s compassionate heart, and you call it scheming? If you don’t go now, by the time the shore fish wakes up, who knows what fit she’ll throw.”

“You… hmph!”

Young Master Liu left, exasperated.

By dawn, he returned to Ling Shuwang’s room with the shore fish and the black cat.

Tao Yao had already moved the young mistress to another room, and shifted Ling Shuwang further inward on the bed, clearing a space for the shore fish.

Young Master Liu laid the shore fish down, then stood silently to one side, watching to see exactly what Tao Yao intended to do.

“You two better wish me well and keep watch properly.” She plopped down onto the footstool beside the bed, took a small gray-black pill from her pouch, blew on it, and the pill instantly transformed into a wisp of curling smoke, obediently coiling around her fingers. With a slight motion of her hand, she guided this smoke-thread between herself and the shore fish, then coiled it into a small ring. She then combed out a single strand of hair from the fish’s, separated it, placed it into the ring, then unraveled one of her own braids, tugged it loose, and carefully picked out the sturdiest strand.

Young Master Liu suddenly grabbed her wrist, his expression not good. “What are you doing?”

“Heart-Linking Technique,” Tao Yao said honestly. “Of all the treatments I can think of and actually perform right now, this is the only one. It might not fully reveal the shore fish’s past or her fixation, but with good luck, a few fragments should be enough.”

“Heart-Linking Technique?” The black cat, crouched on the table, looked at them both, questioning. “A smoke ring is enough to ‘link’ you to her heart?”

Tao Yao tilted her head out from behind Young Master Liu to glare at it. “Smoke ring? This is a secret medicine refined from the skull of a Heart-Linked Golden-Winged Beast—turning medicine into thread, binding hair to bind fate, capable of entering the mind’s realm!”

Didn’t sound like much, but it sounded quite impressive. The black cat fell silent.

Young Master Liu still didn’t let go. “Is she worth using a technique like this on?”

“Treating an illness is treating an illness. Use whatever needs using—there’s no question of worth.” Tao Yao shook off his hand, smiling as she waved the strand of hair. “Don’t worry, it’ll take half a cup of tea’s time at most. As long as this hair is still attached to our heads, unbroken, nothing will happen to either of us. And I don’t think you dislike me enough to want to pull it out, do you?”

Young Master Liu still wasn’t reassured. “No good—this Heart-Linking Technique draws on your soul and spirit essence. A single strand of hair is far too fragile a link. If anything goes wrong, you won’t be able to come back.”

“That’s exactly why you and the cat need to watch over me properly. Before the ring disappears, no one’s allowed to touch our hair.” Tao Yao pushed him aside and swiftly placed her own strand of hair into the ring. The two strands instantly seemed to come alive, automatically twining together, flickering with dazzling, iridescent light within the ring.

Tao Yao sat up straight, closed her eyes, and settled honestly into meditation. Soon she grew still, as if asleep.

Young Master Liu stood as close to her as possible, his gaze locked firmly on that ring holding the two intertwined strands of hair, hoping fervently that the half cup of tea’s time would pass quickly.

“So…” The black cat was about to hop down.

“Don’t move!” Young Master Liu snapped sharply. “Until she’s back, no one comes near.”

The black cat withdrew its paw, retreating back onto the table. “You really do guard her closely.”

Young Master Liu said coldly, “I have a pact with her—I owe her a hundred favors to complete. Until I finish, she’s not allowed to die before me.” Then he frowned. “Why am I even telling you this… annoying cat. If not for you, she wouldn’t need to do something this dangerous.”

“If not for me, you’d still be standing on rooftops catching the breeze like fools.” The black cat, unbothered, gazed calmly toward the bed. “Your Tao physician’s medical arts are strange, aren’t they—needing hair to link hearts. What happens if you run into a bald person?”

Young Master Liu considered throwing a shoe at it…

“Is now really the time to worry about that?” Young Master Liu ground his teeth. “You think she’s sleeping? She’s fighting for your fish’s life right now! Do you think soul and spirit essence are something to be trifled with?!”

“But she seems to be handling it quite effortlessly.” The black cat said, unconcerned. “Besides, she seems like the kind of person who’s especially confident in her own choices. How nice, having a personality like that.”

Different species, truly incapable of communication.

Young Master Liu snorted coldly, unwilling to say anything more to this cat, focusing his attention on watching over Tao Yao’s safety.

The room fell so silent that even a dropped needle would have been audible.

The black cat, lying on the table, actually began to doze off.

Young Master Liu, meanwhile, stayed tense as a drawn bowstring, his heart skipping a beat even at a bird passing outside the window.

6

It had been a long time since she’d seen such a peaceful evening. The sun faded gently in the sky above, tree shadows danced on the ground below, faint and rich scents of flowers mingling in the warm air, even the chirping of insects sounding pleasant.

She sat high in the tree branches, leaning against the trunk, gazing at the distant town below the mountain, her mind empty of thought, blank as a barren field where nothing grew.

If only time could stop forever in this moment—then she wouldn’t have to think about what to do tomorrow, where to go, how many unhappy things she might encounter.

Wait, that wasn’t right. Even if time kept moving, she still wouldn’t need to worry about where to go tomorrow.

Hadn’t she already been staying at Green Cliff Fortress for over a year now? Tomorrow, she’d certainly still be in this fortress hidden deep in the mountains, with a pile of things waiting for her to do—like teaching the chief’s daughter to play the zither and sing, feeding and changing the water for the fortress’s feng shui fish, and taking Fulu and Shuangquan to their favorite spot under a tree to relieve themselves. Oh, Fulu and Shuangquan were the fortress’s two guard dogs, one yellow and one black, decent-tempered but always eating a lot and producing a lot, with excessive energy—often dragging her across the whole mountainside. Really, it was less her walking the dogs than the dogs walking her.

She traded these small, everyday tasks for a stable life within Green Cliff Fortress. Though a bit busy, life wasn’t bad—it suited quite well the kind of remaining life she wanted: no expectations, no losses, peaceful and simple, like a rippleless stream, flowing quietly along until it dried up.

Though this Green Cliff Fortress wasn’t an ordinary village—it was a bandit stronghold registered on the government’s wanted list, having been besieged several times before, always narrowly escaping, finally hiding away in this nameless deep mountain, choosing an easily-defended, hard-to-attack position to rule as king of the mountain, though they still made their living through robbery.

She was one of the unlucky ones who’d been captured and brought to the fortress. She remembered that day—she’d simply been walking aimlessly along a mountain path, idly counting passing butterflies, when a merchant caravan happened to pass by, and her future changed direction… the men of Green Cliff Fortress took her too, as spoils, along with two other captured young women, locked up together, told to write letters to their families demanding ransom… fortunately, amid the misfortune, their chief had a rule: kidnapping was kidnapping, demanding money was demanding money, but given that everyone had a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter somewhere, anyone caught taking liberties with the women in the fortress would be beaten to death with clubs. Green Cliff Fortress tolerated no lechery, no lowlifes.

The chief himself had a daughter, doted on like a pearl in his palm.

The two women held with her, naturally following orders, pressed their fingerprints on the ransom letters in fear, handed over their personal jewelry as proof, sent to their families to fetch the ransom. Fortunately, both were their families’ treasured darlings, and within days had been ransomed home. Only she remained.

She told them honestly that she was alone in the world, no family, no relatives, that ransom simply wasn’t possible—keeping her would only mean feeding her for nothing. She didn’t mind either way, only worried they’d be the ones losing out.

That day, the chief himself came to see this hostage who cared more about money than her own life. Hearing that she’d shown none of the fear or desperation expected of a captive when speaking with the guards, calm and composed, not crying or making a fuss, eating heartily whatever was given, as if she hadn’t landed in a bandit den where killing was casual, but some free inn.

The chief, seeing before him a mere delicate woman, without any grooming or dressing up, yet still lovely and clear-featured, not seeming like some fool who spoke without thinking, asked her whether it was really true she had no family.

She said, truly none—she’d been abandoned at birth, later taken in and raised by a master, but had turned out disappointing and been driven out, and had been wandering ever since, never finding anywhere to settle.

That someone’s fate could be even more tragic than their own band of brothers… the chief found himself moved, though he warned her that if she was lying for sympathy and got caught, her tongue would be cut out! She said, after eating their food for so many days already, lying to them on top of that would be too much.

Everyone felt she was different from ordinary girls, though no one could quite say how. Perhaps it was her unexpected composure, or the sense she constantly gave off that whether they let her live or not, she truly didn’t care—more precisely, she seemed to carry a kind of vigorous despondency, strange and contradictory at once.

The chief asked what she was good at. She thought about it and said singing was decent, playing the zither not bad either.

The chief immediately had her sing something.

She sang a casual little tune.

Everyone was stunned. In all their lives, they’d never heard such a heavenly voice—everyone was captivated by her singing.

The chief immediately decided: fine, since there was no ransom, she’d pay her way out with her voice instead. From now on, at every festival and gathering, the fortress would no longer need to bring in outside singers, and she’d teach his daughter the zither too, while she was at it. If she agreed, she’d be a member of Green Cliff Fortress from then on.

She agreed.

Having somewhere she could stay was better than wandering aimlessly with no destination. After so many years of walking, she was tired too. Resting for a while sounded good.

The chief asked her name. She thought about it and said, friends call me Fish Ball…

The name drew a roar of laughter from everyone. A pretty girl who sang so beautifully, and her name was Fish Ball, hahaha. She didn’t seem embarrassed at all, let them laugh all they wanted.

Laughter aside, Green Cliff Fortress soon got used to having a Miss Fish Ball around. From the chief down to the lowest bandits, everyone treated her well enough; the occasional teasing never went beyond harmless.

Through that year, she only handled singing, teaching the zither, and various chores. The chief never let her participate in their “business,” saying she couldn’t carry loads or lift things, wasn’t fit for major undertakings, and should just settle into being a little helper around the fortress.

It really was an extraordinary turn of fate no one could have imagined—a young woman finding peaceful, good days in a bandit den… She thought, if life could always be like this, she could stay at Green Cliff Fortress forever, the only worry being that the chief and everyone else would eventually grow old and die while she remained exactly as she was now… after all, a human lifespan couldn’t compare to a demon’s.

Watching the last traces of color in the sunset, she suddenly sat up straight—oh no, she’d been daydreaming here for so long, she’d forgotten to take Fulu and Shuangquan out for their walk! Those two would probably tear the fortress gate down at this rate…

She hurried down from the tree.

Before she even reached the fortress gate, she spotted from a distance Fulu and Shuangquan leaping around someone. A ball flew from that person’s hand, and the two dogs raced after it like mad, competing to fetch it, bringing it back, only to have it thrown again, panting with delight.

She approached, paused slightly—it was him.

The one playing with Fulu and Shuangquan was the blacksmith the chief had recruited not long ago, brought in to forge good ironware for the fortress. Every craftsman who’d ever come to Green Cliff Fortress, the chief always called them “invited guests”—though everyone knew, unspoken, that these “invited” guests had all been bound hand and foot and blindfolded, trembling through their work before being sent back down the mountain, hearts still pounding with fear… Fortunately, Green Cliff Fortress treated its craftsmen well, feeding them better than their own men, and paying every cent owed.

He was different from the start, though. From the day he arrived at the fortress, he’d never once shown panic, had carefully asked about the chief’s requirements, then set to work meticulously.

Ever since he’d arrived, the crisp sound of hammering iron could always be heard around the fortress.

Reinforcing chains and frames, sharp blades and swords, cookware big and small—all kinds of ironware had flowed steadily from his hands during this period. Everyone who saw the finished pieces praised them without end, saying they’d never expected some random blacksmith they’d picked up to be this skilled.

Not only was he excellent at ironwork, but wherever the fortress’s arrangements fell short, he could point them out and offer suggestions too. Besides adjusting the direction and angle of the water channel leading into the fortress for better efficiency, in his spare time he’d made “everlasting lamps” that wouldn’t blow out even in the fiercest wind and rain, and even modified the feng shui fish tank to make changing the water easier. In short, he seemed to understand everything, willing to put thought into anything, always quietly getting things done without fuss.

The chief adored him. He’d promised to let him go after a month, but two months had passed, and he was still finding various excuses to coax him into staying, even giving him an additional task—since his handwriting was elegant, he was put in charge of writing things like ransom letters too… the blacksmith found this equal parts amusing and exasperating.

The first time the blacksmith saw her, she was in the courtyard teaching the little girl to play the zither. Amid the gentle zither music, her focused, tender expression lit up the April spring light, a breeze stirring her long, slightly wavy hair, carrying a faint, elusive fragrance. The little girl played quite well; listening, she began to hum along with the melody, voice and instrument blending seamlessly, truly moving.

He seemed stuck in place, as if glued there—no one could pull him away, he didn’t want to leave, wanted to keep listening, wanted to carefully commit to memory this radiant person across from him, dressed so plainly yet shining so brightly.

But how could this refined, scholarly young woman, the moment her zither lesson ended, hurry off to the fish tank, roll up her sleeves, and scatter fish food while calling out “dinner time, dinner time, can’t you all stop fighting when there’s food for everyone?” Besides feeding the fish, more than once while watering the chief’s beloved flowers and plants she’d misjudge the amount and end up flooding the room like a disaster zone, then scramble for a cloth to mop up amid the chief’s shouting. Walking the dogs was even more chaotic—every time, she’d chase after them like a madwoman, and by the time she finally rounded them up, she’d have become a sweaty, dust-covered mess herself… a completely different person from the one playing zither and singing.

But every time he saw her, whether she looked like a fairy or a mud-covered dog, he couldn’t help but smile—not just at the corners of his mouth, but from his eyes. She found this blacksmith odd too—why did he smile every single time he saw her, unprompted? Kidnapped and forced into labor, yet still this cheerful?!

At that moment, he noticed her and smiled. “You’re back?”

She walked toward his gaze, bending down to pat Fulu’s head. “Mm, back. You looked after them for me again…”

“I saw they were eager to go out and play, and you weren’t around, so I just played with them while I was at it,” he said, smiling.

“You fed the fish and changed the water too.”

“Also just convenient—otherwise you’d be rushing around again after finishing the zither lesson.”

“I accidentally broke the chief’s favorite cup the other day, and he punished me by copying the Dao De Jing five hundred times, and you helped me copy it too…”

“I saw you’d fallen asleep copying it, and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I figured I’d get some brush practice in.”

She looked at his eyes, always smiling, and sighed. “You’ve done everything I was supposed to do—what am I even here for?”

“Don’t worry, I can’t sing or play the zither.” He smiled, revealing a neat, white row of teeth. “Come on, let’s go back and eat.”

He carried the ball as he walked back, Fulu and Shuangquan hurrying to follow, so happy their tails wagged double—this, even though she’d accompanied them all this time, they’d never been this obediently affectionate toward her.

“Um…” She suddenly called out to stop him, and as a fellow “outsider” at Green Cliff Fortress, she asked curiously, “Am I wrong, or are you doing… pretty well here?”

He stopped, the sunset giving its last light of the day to this smiling man, the shadows and light making his already fine, striking features even more perfect. He stretched lazily, his tall, well-built frame carrying a touch of playfulness beneath the languor. “You don’t seem like you want to escape either.”

She paused, then admitted honestly, “Right, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it here. Most of the time it’s pretty peaceful and comfortable.”

He walked back to her, looking down at this woman a head shorter than himself, lowering his voice. “But this is still a bandit den, after all.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Always a dangerous, unsustainable place.” He absently plucked a leaf stuck in her hair. “You still need a long-term plan.”

“If I can’t stay, I’ll leave. That’s all.” Her gaze went distant for a moment, as if sinking back into some unspoken past. “The truly dangerous places aren’t here.”

“A bandit den isn’t dangerous?” He laughed. “You, who can’t even outrun the dogs, and you talk so big.”

“If it’s so dangerous, why haven’t you run?” She snapped back to herself, a little indignant. “You seem practically sworn brothers with everyone here.”

“Being sworn brothers doesn’t stop me from upholding justice on heaven’s behalf. Come on, we’ll be late and miss the good food.” He tossed the ball forward, the dogs bounding after it, the scene lively and cheerful.

She didn’t quite understand what he meant—just a young blacksmith, at most a bit good-looking, a bit tall. What confidence did he have to talk about upholding justice in a bandit den?

In the days that followed, beyond his own duties, the blacksmith continued, deliberately or not, to help her with the tasks that were supposed to be hers. At first she’d found this strange; gradually, she got used to having him around every day—if there was ever a day she didn’t run into this man who smiled whenever he saw her, she felt like something was missing. After all, at Green Cliff Fortress, he seemed to be the only one she could talk to a bit more. He seemed to have traveled to many places, and beyond blacksmithing, knew all sorts of interesting things, happy to share them with her—like how, on the east side of some city, there was a lake like a mirror, the scenery of all four seasons reflected within it, more beautiful than any painting, and how the lake held a kind of flower-backed fish that, simply boiled, made the most exquisite delicacy imaginable.

She liked listening to these easy, relaxing descriptions, her life growing lighter without her realizing it.

Before she knew it, summer had arrived, and the whole of Green Cliff Fortress had grown so hot that no one even wanted to do business, everyone lying around the fortress trying to keep cool. On the hottest day, she instead found herself full of energy, dragging him to a strangely shaped short tree deep in the mountains.

He swatted away buzzing mosquitoes, asking why she’d come here on such a scorching day. She, full of enthusiasm, plucked one two-pointed, feather-patterned, blue-black fruit after another from the short tree, not stopping until her basket was full.

“This is the best thing I’ve found here—I call it phoenix-tail fruit.” She pulled him to sit in the shade of a windy spot, took out a fruit, rubbed it against her clothes, then bit down hard—only to quickly spit it out, face twisted, sighing at the still-intact shell. “It’s just that the shell is too hard…” She picked up a rock and smashed the fruit against the ground; it only chipped a small piece off, still refusing to reveal its flesh. She tried again, still no luck, tried biting it again too, no good—finally, furious, she stood and stomped repeatedly on the fruit.

He found her exasperated fury hilarious, pulled her back down to sit, and took a fruit, pinching it between his fingers. “Is it really that good?”

“Otherwise why would I be trying this hard, refusing to give up…” She wiped the sweat from her forehead, biting down again, unwilling to concede.

“Stop biting it, you’ll lose your teeth.” With that, he applied a bit of pressure with his fingers, and a crisp crack sounded—the fruit split in two, the tender yellow flesh hidden inside finally revealed.

She said happily, “You’re that strong?”

“Comes from all the ironworking.” He didn’t want to say it was more likely because her own strength was too weak…

She picked out the flesh, offering it to him first. “Try it.”

He ate it, and indeed it was delicious, fragrant and sweet, unlike any fruit he’d tasted before.

“Good, right?” She hugged the basket like a treasure, then immediately looked troubled again. “This year I’ve had you to help—but if I get more of these next time and you’re not around, what then?” She suddenly turned to face him seriously. “Why don’t you forge me a tool specifically for opening these fruits? Iron pliers, an iron hammer, anything works.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Let’s not—I’m afraid you’d hurt your hand. How about this…” he said, pretending to be serious, “I’ll leave you my home address. Next time you get some fruit and I’m not around, you can mail them to me, and I’ll open them and mail them back. How’s that?”

She actually considered this seriously for a moment before realizing something was off. “Are you teasing me?”

He burst out laughing.

She didn’t get angry with him either, just looked at the basket of phoenix-tail fruit, then suddenly asked, “You’re going to leave eventually, aren’t you?”

He paused slightly, then smiled without answering. He would indeed leave—in truth, he should have left long ago, but her presence here had held his steps back.

The blacksmith who should have come to Green Cliff Fortress wasn’t actually supposed to be him at all—he’d taken the identity to impersonate someone else. He’d made a bet with someone, that within three months he could help the authorities deal with Green Cliff Fortress, a persistent thorn in their side for years.

Back then he’d been young, fond of traveling, his heart filled with the will and courage to fight injustice on behalf of the common people.

Now, having been at Green Cliff Fortress for over three months already, had he lost the bet?

While he stayed silent, she set down the basket. “Actually, it’s fine if I don’t eat anything.”

“Hm?” He came back to himself.

She stood up, looked at the large tree behind her, then, surprisingly, took off her shoes and nimbly climbed up, sitting on a branch, looking down at him.

“What are you being so mischievous for? Come down, be careful you don’t fall!” He immediately stood, watching her anxiously.

She smiled at him. “You should go. A bandit den isn’t the place for you to stay.”

“You shouldn’t stay here either,” he frowned, then said, suddenly very firmly, “Come with me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “We’re not the kind of people meant to leave together.”

“Why?” He didn’t understand. “You can’t bear to leave this place?”

“There’s nothing here I can’t bear to leave.”

“Then you…”

Before he could finish, her feet, dangling lightly before his eyes, suddenly transformed into a blue fish tail. Sunlight filtered through the layered leaves, and the fine scales on her tail seemed gilded in gold, more beautiful than any jewel or gem in the world.

Based on her experience, what came next would be watching him flee in terror from beneath the tree. She was all too used to this kind of parting. Since they’d have to part ways eventually, better sooner than later, cleaner that way.

He stared in stunned disbelief, his body frozen in place.

But he didn’t run.

Surely he hadn’t been so shocked he couldn’t move, she thought.

“You’re… not human?” It took him a good while to recover.

“I’m a demon,” she smiled the same careless smile as always. “A fish who lives on the shore.”

“Is that why you’re called Fish Ball?” He actually asked a question she’d never expected.

Shouldn’t he be long gone by now, not even a shadow of him left to see?

She looked at this man who hadn’t run, considered it, and said, “I’m the ninth child in my family, so they called me Fish Nine. It was only later that I met a friend who said I was so foolish, like a ball with no hands or feet just getting pushed around by everyone—so she said, why not call me Fish Ball instead of Fish Nine. It’s not much different anyway.”

He actually laughed at that. “Aren’t demons supposed to be formidable, moving heaven and earth, commanding wind and rain? How’d you end up like this?”

“Not every human turns out exceptional either,” she said, swinging her tail. “I don’t want to end up any particular way. I just want to live out my life safely and quietly.”

He fell silent a moment, then looked up. “Staying here won’t be safe.”

“Why haven’t you left, then?” she asked, puzzled.

He was puzzled too. “Why would I leave?”

“You’re not afraid?” She turned her tail back into legs and jumped down from the tree, looking up at him. “I’m a demon. Lots of people are afraid of demons.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m a blacksmith—my nerve’s bigger than most people’s.” He scratched his head. “Though I guess blacksmithing and courage don’t really have anything to do with each other… to be honest, I’m more afraid of my father than you. You’re not going to chase me around with a stick and beat me, but he would.”

This time it was her turn to be surprised, staring at him open-mouthed for a good while, as if she were the human and he the demon.

“Is my face dirty?” He touched his own face.

She shook her head.

“Then that expression of yours…” He frowned, reaching out to tilt her chin up with a finger. “You really do look like a fish ball.”

She closed her mouth, blinked, and suddenly blushed, quickly stepping back, not knowing what to say.

“Let’s head back—stay any longer and we’ll be feeding the mosquitoes for nothing.” He picked up the basket for her and, quite naturally, took her hand, leading her back the way they’d come.

She let him hold her hand, walking silently for a good stretch, then spoke again. “I really am a demon.” As she said this, her hand tried to pull free from his.

“I saw that already.” He didn’t even look back—whoever could break free from a blacksmith’s grip? She certainly couldn’t.

“You’re human!” Unable to break free, she grew a little anxious.

“Do you hate humans?” He finally stopped, turning to look at her seriously. “If you really hate them, I’ll let go.”

She froze, shaking her head, at a loss. “I don’t hate humans, just…”

“Then I won’t let go.” He actually laughed, pulling her along with complete confidence. “You don’t need to mail these phoenix-tail fruits to me anymore either. From now on, whenever you want some, we’ll just go pick them together. I’ll handle opening them, you handle eating them.”

“You…” Her face had never been this red before; her usually calm, desireless heart stirred with great waves. She only knew that if she didn’t pull free right now, she probably never would again.

She’d heard people say that every encounter in this world was fated—that even if she did nothing, he would have found his way into her world regardless. At first she hadn’t believed it; after all, for so many years, her world had only ever contained herself. Occasionally someone would knock, but they’d leave before she even opened the door. That was fine too—in truth, she’d never expected any encounter at all.

So… what now?

As they walked, he gripped her hand a little tighter, saying half-jokingly, “Such hot weather, and your hands are still this cold—is that because you’re a fish?”

She actually nodded honestly. “It’s hard for me to generate warmth on my own…”

“Ah, then we’ll need to prepare a few extra braziers for winter.”

“I’m not afraid of the cold.”

“Winters by the lake get very cold!”

“Hm?”

“Hahaha.”

“What are you laughing at…”

She’d had a way to send him straight into a deep sleep and simply walk away without looking back, never to meet again in this life. And yet, all the way until they walked back to the gates of Green Cliff Fortress, she still hadn’t turned him into one of her dreams.

Why… in the deepest part of her soul, had something like anticipation taken root? Have you gone mad? Don’t you want your peace, your stability anymore?! Her heart was suddenly thrown into chaos.

At that moment, he suddenly stopped, turned back, and once again, earnestly and sincerely, said, “Come with me.”

Maybe it was the light falling into his eyes just then, too beautiful to look away from; maybe it was the fruit in the basket giving off its enchanting fragrance; maybe it was just that the day had been too hot, addling her mind—but in that final moment, she found herself, as if possessed, nodding—

“Okay.”

Coda

Surely half a cup of tea’s time had long since passed?

Young Master Liu watched Tao Yao, still deep in meditation, with growing anxiety. That small world formed by the two intertwined strands of hair still flickered steadily within the ring.

He didn’t dare call out to her, didn’t dare touch her, terrified that even the smallest movement on his part might jeopardize her safety.

The shore fish slept on, Ling Shuwang slept on, the black cat too dozed on the table, shifting through several comical positions along the way.

Tao Yao showed no sign of waking, only the corners of her mouth occasionally curving upward, as if she’d encountered something wonderful, smiling with something almost like tenderness.

Seeing this, Young Master Liu relaxed a little—thankfully it wasn’t some fierce, grimacing expression… could she have seen something good?

If so, then please, let it stay good!

But… could it?!

Time in this room seemed to grow slower and slower.