Prologue

Whether it was young proprietor Zhao’s shop or the Si estate’s dining hall, the places she loved — none of them could be allowed to fall to ruin.

1

Dawn broke, the snow stopped, and a ray of sunlight spilled into a room that had sat in darkness for days, falling upon the body that had been clinging to life within it.

Amid Madam Xiao’s tears of overwhelming joy, the long-shadowed Xiao household finally came back to life.

Xiao Yuanxin still lay in a deep sleep, but the face was now, for the most part, his own again.

At the bedside, Madam Xiao gripped the man’s warming hand tightly, terrified that if she let go even for a moment, he would revert to that unspeakable monster once more.

The servants, having finally breathed a sigh of relief, gathered cautiously outside, thanking the heavens for saving their master and preserving the household’s pillar of support. Amitabha.

Si Kuanglan and Tao Yao sat as far from the crowd as possible, watching with detached patience as the family worked through their outpouring of “surviving the ordeal” emotions. From the moment Tao Yao had summoned Madam Xiao to now, she’d been crying and laughing by the bedside for nearly two hours.

The only person in the world truly hoping with all her heart for Xiao Yuanxin’s recovery was probably her.

Tao Yao yawned again. She hadn’t slept all night, and her dark circles were surely too unsightly to look at by now. Just how much longer was this woman going to cry?

Si Kuanglan, meanwhile, was the picture of patience. He’d finished an entire pot of tea, now watered down to nothing, and could still keep drinking.

All this while, the gears in Tao Yao’s head were turning busily. Now that the matter was resolved, she had no idea how much of a reward Madam Xiao might offer, but the three months’ wages Si Kuanglan had promised — those, at least, he couldn’t renege on. Three months’ wages! Just imagine how much good food and fun that could buy! Only by dwelling on such things could her mood improve even slightly.

Finally, as the sun climbed a bit higher, Madam Xiao at last remembered the person most deserving of her gratitude.

She hastily wiped away her tears and snot, and with red, swollen eyes walked over to them, dropped to her knees with a thud, and immediately followed with three solid kowtows.

Neither Si Kuanglan nor Tao Yao made any move to stop her. If she wanted to kowtow, then let her. Having brought her husband back for her, they could bear whatever gratitude, however great.

The pity was, the person she most deserved to kowtow to no longer had any chance to sit before her.

The maids hurried over to help the nearly dazed Madam Xiao to her feet, and once she’d steadied herself, she turned to Si Kuanglan with genuine sincerity. “Second Young Master, aside from kowtowing, I don’t know how else to thank you. Please forgive me if I’ve acted improperly.”

Si Kuanglan rose to his feet and smiled faintly. “Steward Miao will send the bill to your estate. Since you’ve already paid the fee, there’s truly no need for anything more. My obligation is fulfilled. I’ll take my leave.”

“Second Young Master!” she called after him hastily. “Is my husband truly safe now?”

Si Kuanglan turned back. “Hasn’t his face already returned?”

“But… I’m afraid we still won’t know peace going forward…” she stammered. “What sort of demonic evil did this to him in the first place?”

“Rest easy, Madam. There is no demon left, and there won’t be one in the future either.” Tao Yao stepped between her and Si Kuanglan, eyes narrowing into a smile. “When the Si estate takes on a case, the matter is resolved. Our Second Young Master would never tarnish his own reputation.” She tilted her head toward the bed. “But if you truly want lasting peace, you shouldn’t be looking at demons. You should be looking at people.”

Madam Xiao froze, wanting to ask what she meant, but Tao Yao had already followed Si Kuanglan out the door.

Just as Madam Xiao was puzzling over the meaning of that last remark, the bright red-clad figure suddenly came running back through the door.

“Miss Tao, you…”

Madam Xiao stared at her sudden return; Tao Yao stared right back at Madam Xiao’s face.

“I have a question I really need to ask,” Tao Yao said.

Madam Xiao blinked, startled. “Please… go ahead.”

Tao Yao pointed toward the bed, where Xiao Yuanxin lay. “Is that man truly someone you’d never want to part from for your whole life — someone you hold deep in your heart, the most important person in your life?”

Her sudden return was jarring enough; the question was even more so.

Madam Xiao’s mouth parted slightly, at a loss for how to answer.

Tao Yao looked her straight in the eye. “Even knowing there’s a saying in this world — that even a tiger, however vicious, does not devour its own cub?”

Madam Xiao’s face turned instantly pale as a sheet.

Tao Yao stepped closer and said coldly into her ear, “Xiao’An died ten years ago. You people owe him.”

Madam Xiao’s legs gave out, and she collapsed into a chair.

“You… you…” Her whole body trembled slightly, unable to form a complete sentence. The maids rushed forward, but she waved them off.

Tao Yao looked at this woman, draped in wealth and privilege yet without even the strength to stand, and smiled. “If you want to stay by someone’s side forever, that someone has to actually be worth staying by.”

With that, the warmth in her eyes dropped to its coldest point. Perhaps Madam Xiao hadn’t actually done anything wrong herself — within the vast Xiao household, she was merely an appendage, a wife bound to follow her husband, unable to control her own fate. She hadn’t committed any evil herself; she had simply, again and again, talked herself into looking away from it. A woman who staked her entire world on one man had gambled her whole life on it — whether Madam Xiao had won or lost that bet, Tao Yao couldn’t be bothered to calculate. She’d only remembered her anger after stepping over the threshold, and had felt compelled to come back once more.

As fellow women, the likes of Su Shengxue or Cai Lili had never once lost to this treacherous world.

Tao Yao sighed and turned to walk out the door.

Different people had different paths, she supposed. Nothing to be forced.

The sunlight outside was bright, cutting through the long-settled cold, falling gently on Tao Yao. She’d thought coming back would let out some of the pent-up breath in her chest, but that breath still seemed stuck, refusing to release.

Si Kuanglan’s figure stood not far off, neither having gone back in nor left, standing idly in the brightest patch of sunlight, waiting for her.

“Miss Tao!”

Madam Xiao suddenly appeared at the doorway, not stepping out, both hands gripping the doorframe tightly.

Tao Yao stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry…” Her tears hadn’t yet dried, but she spoke with a smile. “Everyone calls me Madam Xiao, bows and scrapes before me, obeys me in everything — and yet I know full well that without him, I am nothing. I have my weaknesses, my helplessness. I’m too afraid of a future adrift, with nothing left. If I truly cannot escape the consequences of what’s been done, I’m willing to bear them alongside him.” She paused, gazing at Tao Yao’s figure growing ever more vivid and radiant in the sunlight. “I envy girls like you, standing so openly in the light, belonging to no one but yourself — it’s truly admirable. But my life has already become what it is. I don’t want to struggle against it, and I can’t. I know you dislike me greatly, but I hope you won’t hate me too much.”

The slowly shifting sunlight couldn’t quite reach her behind the threshold — just one step short.

Tao Yao remained facing away from her the entire time, offering not a single word in response. After a brief pause, as though she’d completely forgotten this woman existed, she strode forward, patting her stomach and calling loudly to Si Kuanglan, “I’m starving! Let’s go get something to eat!!”

Si Kuanglan didn’t bother asking what exactly she’d said to Madam Xiao, only replying, “All right.”

The two figures soon vanished beyond the courtyard gate. Whatever had happened at the Xiao estate could stay in last night. The weather was so fine today — no need to let nightmares follow along.

And do remember what you said today: debts owed must eventually be repaid.

2

By the time Si Kuanglan and Tao Yao arrived at “Young Zhao’s Soup Kitchen,” the shop’s stove hadn’t even been lit yet.

“Honored guests, the shop isn’t open for business yet,” the proprietor said, looking at the two of them awkwardly, gesturing toward the cutting board. “As you can see, the ingredients aren’t even prepped, and the stove’s stone cold. My little shop doesn’t start serving until near noon every day — perhaps you two could come back later?”

“Noon…” Tao Yao swallowed hard. “Why does it have to be noon?”

The proprietor pointed at the sky. “Miss, look at what hour it is now. My soup dishes are rich and savory — not really suited for early morning eating, so everyone’s used to coming at noon. Even if I lit the stove now, whatever I cooked would just sit there going to waste. Besides, my soup dishes are best fresh off the fire — reheated, they’re still edible, but it’s just not the same flavor.” He pointed across the street. “You two might try the porridge shop across the way instead — a few bowls of plain congee, and the steamed buns next door are quite good too. Perfect for breakfast.”

He’d have been better off not explaining at all — out of that whole speech, Tao Yao only caught the words “rich and savory,” and her stomach growled even louder.

“Boss, we’re already here — can’t you make an exception? My appetite’s plenty good, others might not be able to stomach heavy meat dishes this early, but I’ve got no problem with it!” Tao Yao wasn’t giving up. “Besides, wouldn’t it be bad luck to turn away your very first customers of the day?”

The proprietor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Miss, I wasn’t thinking about luck at all. It’s a small operation — ingredients and charcoal cost money. Once the stove’s lit, it can’t be put out, and the two of you could eat maybe a pot or two at most, while I’d be burning fuel for hours for nothing. It’s just not worth it.”

Tao Yao privately thought the man was a stingy old miser, but on reflection, he had a point — it really would be hard on him, and there was no reason to run a shop at a loss.

“Forget it, then,” she said to Si Kuanglan, somewhat disappointed. “Porridge is fine too — I want mine with lots of minced meat!”

Before she’d even finished speaking, an entire pouch of coins was already being held out to the proprietor, Si Kuanglan’s smiling face behind it. “For business before noon, just the two of us then. Would this cover the charcoal costs, I wonder?”

The proprietor froze, took the pouch, gave it one weighing heft, and immediately waved his hands, moving to return it. “Too much, far too much! Young master, I really can’t accept this.”

“You can,” Si Kuanglan said, gesturing at Tao Yao. “Prepare her the largest pot you have.” With that, he simply found a seat and sat down, entirely at ease, as though he owned the place.

The proprietor, still holding the pouch, exchanged a glance with Tao Yao. “Miss, this money…”

“Too heavy for you? Want me to take half?” Tao Yao pushed his hand back. “Just take it — you promised me the biggest pot, right! No, wait — biggest pots for both of us!”

Only then did the proprietor’s shock turn to delight, and he called out loudly, “Just a moment, you two — I’ll light the stove and prep the ingredients right away!”

Who wouldn’t be thrilled to run into the god of fortune first thing in the morning!

Si Kuanglan glanced around the shop. “Just a shabby little place, nothing remarkable about it.” He reached out and wiped a finger across the table, frowning. “The table isn’t even properly cleaned.”

“I’m eating his food, not his table,” Tao Yao said, sitting across from him with a grin. “You’re used to living in luxury, Second Young Master — you should try some common folk’s cooking once in a while. I already told the proprietor to give you the biggest pot too.”

“I’m not hungry,” Si Kuanglan said flatly. “You can eat two pots yourself.”

“You’re the type who just doesn’t trust anyone else’s cooking,” Tao Yao huffed.

“Would you trust cooking from someone like Young Master Liu?”

“I wouldn’t… but how can you lump him together with Young Zhao here?”

“How do you even know about this little shop?”

“Steward Miao’s brought us here to eat several times!”

“His palate is remarkably tolerant, then.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment to him.”

The two of them chatted idly at the table, neither bringing up anything related to the Xiao household — a full night’s heaviness was already more than enough, no need to carry it into the morning meal too. Outside the window, more and more passersby appeared; today, being a rare warm and sunny day, would surely draw plenty of people out.

Young Zhao hadn’t oversold his food. Though the table wasn’t spotless, the soup dish he brought out truly deserved the words “rich and savory.” Simple as the name sounded, the variety of ingredients and the skill in preparation were anything but simple — in the creamy, rich broth, both vegetables and meat were cooked to precisely the right point, proudly retaining their natural freshness and sweetness. What Tao Yao didn’t mention to Si Kuanglan was that Young Master Liu had once tried making soup dishes at home himself — using ingredients and broth every bit as good, but the result… could hardly even be called a “result.” Just a pot of black sludge. He’d tasted one spoonful himself and was so distraught he nearly reverted to his true form on the spot. A being who could make himself that miserable cooking for himself was, without question, a rare talent in this world — no, a rare serpent. As for the future, if he ever really did want to eat Mo Ya, he’d best just eat him raw and stay out of the kitchen entirely — cooking clearly wasn’t his calling. (At that very moment, back at the Si estate having breakfast, Mo Ya and Young Master Liu both sneezed simultaneously.)

Tao Yao practically buried her face in the specially made clay pot, moved nearly to tears, eating as she looked up to ask Si Kuanglan, “Good, right? Good, right?”

Si Kuanglan, chopsticks in one hand and spoon in the other, delicately worked through the steaming, fragrant dish, and gave a small nod. “It’s decent.”

Tao Yao gulped down another big mouthful of soup. “If it’s good, just say it’s good! I’d bet no one in the capital can match Young Zhao’s cooking — the only thing that could rival it was that golden-thread fragrant belly noodles I had in Luoyang once!” She poked Si Kuanglan’s hand with her chopstick tip. “You’re always like this — praising someone else doesn’t cost you a thing, you know.”

“You praising someone else costs me money,” Si Kuanglan said, glancing up at her shameless face, then casually pulled out his handkerchief and reached toward her face, wiping it, saying flatly, “Are you eating with your mouth or your face?”

Tao Yao froze, suddenly feeling her neck go stiff, not daring to move, letting his handkerchief pass over her face a few times.

This man… was truly obsessed with cleanliness. Ash on the nose needed wiping, food on the face needed wiping, but that was her nose, her face! Was he a dishrag in a past life?

That single moment was enough to send Tao Yao’s thoughts spiraling.

Si Kuanglan withdrew his hand. “Being messy is one thing, but eating that fast too? Don’t you know hot food can harm your health?”

Tao Yao’s face reddened slightly. “Tch, this dish is only good while it’s hot.”

“What did you say tastes good?”

“I said watch out for fish bones!”

“There’s no fish in this pot.”

“No talking while eating, no speaking while sleeping!”

“Save that advice for yourself.”

…

The sunlight pouring through the window grew warmer and warmer — and it wasn’t only the frost and snow outside that was thawing. Perhaps something buried deep in the heart, hard and cold as ice, was thawing too.

The clamor of the marketplace grew louder, the whole city coming alive in the light — those walking and running, haggling and bargaining, holding forth loudly or whispering quietly, forming the most vibrant, living part of the world. And yet, in places the sunlight couldn’t reach — perhaps deep in some dense, forsaken forest, perhaps beneath cold, heavy earth, perhaps deep within someone’s heart — lay souls who would never again have the chance to see the sun, who had lived out their wronged, sorrowful lives, their names and dreams alike reduced to forgotten dust, no longer touched by the flourishing seasons or the joys and sorrows of the living — not even able, anymore, to sit ordinarily at a roadside stall and eat a simple bowl of food.

Tao Yao looked out at the bustling scene outside the window, and the food in her mouth gradually lost its earlier flavor. She thought it was because she’d eaten her fill. In truth, right now, she just wanted to have a good, simple meal — but the louder the voices outside grew, the happier the laughing men and women passing by seemed, the more restless some emotion sealed deep in her heart became. It had nothing to do with how many pots of soup she’d eaten.

“So…” She finally couldn’t hold back, wiping her mouth and asking, “When are you making your move?”

Si Kuanglan had just scooped up a spoonful of soup, blowing on it before drinking it down. “No business talk while eating.”

Tao Yao didn’t let it go. “Can your Bi’an Bureau actually deal with Xiao Yuanxin?”

“And if they can’t?” Si Kuanglan set down his spoon. “Will you poison him to death?”

“I want to, but I can’t,” Tao Yao frowned. “I told you, we have our rules.”

“Then you’ll have to trouble me instead.” Si Kuanglan scooped up another spoonful of soup. “As long as that demon doesn’t die, it remains a living witness. Physical evidence may be harder to find, but not impossible — the Bi’an Bureau has its own methods.”

“It won’t die!” Tao Yao said immediately. “I’m protecting the two of them with good medicine. As long as they stay in the bottle for seven more days, the human-face demon’s life is more than half secured, and its hidden sword wound will heal too.”

“Then eat your soup in peace,” Si Kuanglan said, picking up a piece of vegetable with his chopsticks and putting it in his mouth. “The dispute between Fang Heyu and Xiao Yuanxin — I’ll handle that.”

Tao Yao fell silent for a moment, then said, “Can’t let you do all this for nothing. This time, consider me the client — I’ll send over a formal card later, and if you truly resolve this matter, I’ll pay you. I never take advantage of people.”

Si Kuanglan shook his head with a smile. “What could you possibly pay me? A pot of soup?”

“If you’re ever on death’s door from illness, I’ll make an exception and save your life,” Tao Yao declared firmly. “If you don’t care for that, I could also find you a wife with a sturdy constitution instead!”

Si Kuanglan nearly choked on his food.

“Then it’s settled! I’ve always been fair in my dealings,” she said, finally satisfied, pleased with her own terms.

“Saying you’ll waive those three months’ wages might come across as more sincere,” Si Kuanglan said, not even bothering to look at her.

Tao Yao’s eyes widened. “Not a chance!”

“Heh.”

“What’s that laugh for?”

“Heh.”

Just as sparks were about to fly between them, a faint, cool breeze suddenly drifted in through the window.

The people passing on the street froze instantly, even a coin dropping from someone’s hand hanging suspended in midair. Young Zhao, in the middle of feeding wood into the stove, held perfectly still in that pose, the flames in the stove frozen at their liveliest, and even the soup Si Kuanglan had been stirring hung suspended mid-tilt — every motion and sound in the entire world had vanished completely in that instant.

Tao Yao felt a numbing sensation spread across her scalp, her breath seeming to catch as well, and it took her a good while to recover.

She sprang to her feet — in this moment, she seemed to be the only one in the entire world still able to move.

Sensing something was wrong, Tao Yao looked warily toward the door, and saw a figure slowly walking this way through the frozen crowd. Perhaps it was an illusion, but even though she couldn’t clearly make out the figure’s face, she felt as though every ray of light between heaven and earth was rushing to fall upon them — the overwhelming presence growing closer made her feel that anyone with weaker legs would surely have already dropped to their knees.

The one approaching was…

3

Standing outside the shop door, Tao Yao found herself unable to move — she couldn’t even bring herself to blink, as though fearing she’d lose something by looking away for even a moment.

A few paces off, Lei Shen looked her over with an expressionless face, his gaze fixing on the cloth pouch at her waist.

“Lord Lei Shen coming out personally — must be something big?” Tao Yao asked with a smile, though she instinctively shifted the pouch behind her.

“Hand it over,” Lei Shen said coldly.

“What?” Tao Yao’s eyes widened; she looked down at herself and spread her hands. “I don’t have a single valuable thing on me, been begging for a living my whole life — I really can’t imagine what would catch Lord Lei Shen’s attention.”

“Harboring a fugitive is a serious crime,” Lei Shen said bluntly. “Your Tao City isn’t a lawless place. If you insist on going your own way, it might not even require my intervention — that man of yours might well clean house himself.”

Tao Yao smiled. “I’d have thought someone of Lord Lei Shen’s stature would be above petty tattling.”

“When the matter of Lord Jiang came up, you interfered with it directly. Simply for threatening a celestial attendant, I could have taken you in with full justification. Considering you hadn’t committed any grave error, I let you off. Yet now, not only have you failed to reflect on your conduct, you dare go even further and obstruct me from arresting a fugitive demon. Tao Yao, you’re the first one to pull this sort of stunt.” Lei Shen never joked; every word was a final warning.

Faced with Lei Shen’s warning, most people would ultimately choose to kneel, admit fault, and beg for mercy — but Tao Yao was hardly cut from that cloth.

“Lord Lei Shen speaks too gravely. Last time, my attitude toward your subordinates was perfectly fine — there was no threat involved, they must have misunderstood,” she said, still smiling, though anyone watching might well have broken into a cold sweat on her behalf at her sheer recklessness. “Besides, you’re known for being scrupulously impartial — if I’ve truly committed a crime, just take me in. No need to spare face for Tao City or for my superior — I have no objection myself.”

“Insolence!” Lei Shen frowned. “Do you truly believe I dare not take you?”

“No, no, you absolutely dare,” Tao Yao said quickly, though her eyes showed not the slightest restraint. “To be honest, I’ve eaten food from many places, but I’ve never tried the fare at the Hall of Thunder God. If you’re not worried about how much I can eat, feel free to take me up there!” She paused, the playfulness in her eyes suddenly dimming a little. “But not right now — you’ll have to wait until I’ve finished the matter at hand. Then I’ll go with you willingly to face judgment.” She actually seemed to look forward to eating prison food at the Hall of Thunder God…

“Tao Yao, I know you’ve never been one to speak properly, but daring to talk nonsense in front of me…” Lei Shen paid her words no mind at all, and without further comment, extended a hand. “Hand it over.”

Every strand of this deity’s hair told her this truly was the final warning.

In the frozen world, the atmosphere suddenly tightened.

Tao Yao stepped back, smiling without a flicker of change in her expression. “Not handing it over. I don’t know any martial arts, so if you want to use force and take it by hand, go ahead — but you’ll have to kill me first. Otherwise, what’s mine is mine, and no one’s taking it from me.”

She was clearly smiling, and yet somehow it didn’t feel like a joke or a bluff at all — the ruthless resolve behind her every light, easy expression made that much clear.

BOOM!

A startling clap of thunder suddenly split the sky, brilliant lightning illuminating Tao Yao’s eyes.

She frowned and leapt aside just in time. The ground where she’d been standing erupted into a large scorched pit, wisps of smoke curling up from its blackened surface… the strike had landed with pinpoint precision, careful not to harm anyone innocent nearby.

She glanced into the crater and smiled. “The people around me are always afraid of getting caught in my mess, saying I’ll get struck dead by Lei Shen sooner or later. Lucky for them they’re not here today.”

Lei Shen’s outstretched hand showed no sign of withdrawing, and the killing intent in his eyes only deepened.

She knew her own limits well — she could dodge one bolt of heavenly thunder, maybe even a second… but a third, fourth, fifth, sixth…

Sure enough, two more smoking craters appeared on the ground.

Tao Yao panted slightly, one hand shielding the pouch at her waist. That was close — her right leg had very nearly been scorched.

Ugh, so much for that little crush — never marrying him now!!

“How many bolts of heavenly thunder do you think your confidence can withstand?” Lei Shen’s voice was as cold as his expression. “For countless ages, Tao City has upheld righteousness and driven out evil demons, taking the protection of heaven and earth as its solemn duty — and yet you, a member of Tao City, show favoritism toward a criminal demon. Does that not shame you?”

Tao Yao smiled coldly. “You yourself said ‘drive out evil demons.’ If the demon in question isn’t evil, then where’s the favoritism, where’s the shame in that? The demons of this world fall under Tao City’s jurisdiction — if the heavens or Kunlun wish to overstep and lend a hand, I don’t much object. But this particular demon — even if you rain down a thousand bolts of heavenly thunder, I still won’t let you take her.”

“So Tao City would even defy the heavenly gods to protect a criminal demon.” Lei Shen shook his head, disappointed. “Tao Yao, you’re the first one to do such a thing.”

“This has nothing to do with Tao City — it’s entirely my own personal decision. Put it all on my account,” Tao Yao said, pointing at herself. “I’ve never treated you as an enemy either. Today, I’m simply refusing to back down.”

“Refusing to back down…” Lei Shen narrowed his eyes slightly. “Do you understand what kind of disaster your defiance might bring upon yourself?”

Tao Yao smiled. “I’ve caused plenty of trouble in my time. One more won’t matter.”

“Lady Tao Yao!” A weak voice suddenly came from within the pouch. “Please, stop resisting. You’re no match for Lord Lei Shen — hand me over! A few more bolts of thunder and you won’t be able to escape! You’ve already saved us once. That’s enough.”

“Quiet!” Tao Yao smacked the pouch. “Stay put in there. Until your injuries have fully healed, no one is laying a hand on either of you. Not letting a patient die under my care — that’s my honor as a physician.”

“Lady Tao Yao…”

“Utterly stubborn,” Lei Shen sighed.

Suddenly another crack of thunder split the air, and Tao Yao felt her vision flood with light, unable to even make out Lei Shen’s face — heaven only knew how many more bolts of lightning were about to fall this time. She could only rely on instinct to judge the direction of danger. A crimson pill was already pinched between her fingers — she couldn’t fight, and she’d promised that person she’d never misuse her medicine carelessly, but since Lei Shen dared strike her down, he could try her own methods too. This heartless deity hadn’t even bothered to ask why she was so determined to protect these two demons.

Fine then, let’s have it out!

But this time, something seemed different. Before she could even dodge, the thunder and lightning bearing down on her suddenly seemed to change direction, striking somewhere far off instead. In the chaos, it seemed as though someone had suddenly appeared between her and Lei Shen.

Tao Yao blinked hard, and when the world came back into focus, she found Si Kuanglan standing before her, sword in hand, staring fearlessly at Lei Shen as though he were nothing more than some random passerby who’d offended him… except faint wisps of white smoke curled up from the blood sword, and his right arm trembled faintly, involuntarily, from having absorbed the force of that immense impact.

She’d known him for quite some time now, but Tao Yao had never once been this stunned.

Not only had Lei Shen’s time-freezing technique somehow failed to work on this mere mortal, but even more terrifying — he’d just used his own flesh-and-blood body, wielding that sword, to physically block a bolt of heavenly thunder?! Had she just seen a ghost?!

Even Lei Shen seemed to freeze for a moment, then frowned slightly, looking at the craters in the distance. “So there’s another one who can still move.”

Tao Yao’s mouth hung open as she looked Si Kuanglan up and down. “You… you’re alive?”

Si Kuanglan lowered his sword, glancing at her. “This is the man you were crying and begging to marry?”

Tao Yao’s mouth snapped shut instantly. In a thousand guesses, she never would have imagined he’d bring this up in a moment like this… but how did he even know about the Lei Shen thing? It must have been that big-mouthed Young Master Liu, blabbing about it when they’d parted ways back in Luoyang!

She let her eyelids droop. “Not interested in marrying him anymore.”

“Good. Still salvageable,” Si Kuanglan said with a nod.

“Wait, is now really the time for this?” Tao Yao snapped back to attention. “Are you insane? Do you think that’s something you can just block with a sword? Have you got a death wish?!”

“I figured someone as sharp-tongued as you deserved to get struck dead, but your indenture contract with the Si estate hasn’t expired yet. It wouldn’t do to have you die in front of me — it would look bad if word got around,” Si Kuanglan said flatly, his gaze fixed on Lei Shen’s face, sword tip aimed at his chest. “As long as I’m standing here today, no one touches a Si estate servant.”

That a mere mortal would dare point a sword at him — even Lei Shen found himself wanting to laugh. Since assuming the mantle of Thunder God, when had he ever received such “generous treatment”? From the heavens to Kunlun to the mortal realm, from immortals and humans to demons, who didn’t yield three paces at the mere mention of his name? The only one to ever say no to his demands was Tao Yao; the only one to ever raise a sword against him was the man beside her.

One stubborn, reckless fool who refused to bow was already troublesome enough. A pair of them… was even more of a headache.

“You’re the first mortal to break free of my time-freezing technique,” Lei Shen said, eyeing Si Kuanglan coldly. “Do you understand that what you’re doing right now constitutes grave disrespect? That you managed to block that bolt of heavenly thunder was mere luck.”

“Mortals revere the gods, believing they reward good and punish evil, and protect the human realm,” Si Kuanglan said with a faint smile. “This is my first time meeting a living god. I haven’t yet witnessed any reward of good or punishment of evil — but I’ve certainly seen a fine display of failing to tell right from wrong.”

Tao Yao hastily tugged at his sleeve, lowering her voice. “This is between him and me, none of your business! He’s not like any ‘dispute’ you’ve dealt with before — he’s a god that even Tao City has to show some deference to. Stay out of my affairs and just focus on staying alive, won’t you!”

“If you weren’t a member of my household, naturally I wouldn’t concern myself with you,” Si Kuanglan said, not even bothering to look at her. “Those two demons in your possession are closely tied to the case I’m resolving. The matter with the Xiao household isn’t finished yet, and I still have use for them. How could I let you lose them?”

“You…” Tao Yao was practically fuming. This reckless fool, had he not noticed his own sword was smoking? A few more bolts of thunder and he’d lose his hand — his head, even?

Lei Shen frowned slightly. “That was merely a minor reprimand. For two lowly demons, are you two truly willing to defy a divine decree?”

“Two lowly demons…” Tao Yao looked up, staring straight into Lei Shen’s eyes. “Lord Lei Shen, since you’ve come specifically for them, surely you already know exactly what they endured at the Xiao household?”

“And what of it?” Lei Shen countered.

“Then let me ask on their behalf — if a man like Xiao Yuanxin can go on living safely and happily, why should decent, law-abiding people meet such wretched ends?” Tao Yao spoke each word clearly and firmly. “Just what exactly does your thunder strike down?”

Lei Shen fell silent for a moment, then gave a faint smile. “So this is your ‘refusal to back down’?”

“Yes,” Tao Yao said plainly.

Lei Shen glanced around. “Look at this street — how many people pass through here every day? Among all these laughing, quarreling humans, how many Xiao Yuanxins are there, how many Fang Heyus? Year after year, month after month, how many old grudges and new enmities, how much love and devotion?”

She had, of course, never counted how many people passed by, nor did she know the story behind each one. Tao Yao stayed silent, trying to guess why he was suddenly asking this.

“Perhaps because your Tao City has always kept to itself, and you especially, wild thing that you are, have never paid any attention to the affairs of the heavens or Kunlun, content to live entirely by your own whims — so you surely don’t realize that, for quite some time now, the number of humans has come to far exceed the number of immortals in the heavens and Kunlun combined.” Lei Shen looked at her, speaking calmly. “Even the number of demons is about to be surpassed by humans.”

“And what of it?” Tao Yao said simply. “A god need only lift a finger, and the earth splits open into a great pit, mountains can be leveled, rivers run dry — while mortals, with their mere few decades of life, can’t even withstand a minor illness. So what does sheer numbers matter?”

“Indeed — unable to withstand even a single finger from a god, mere decades of lifespan, and countless fatal illnesses and accidents besides. Truly fragile. And yet, fragile as they are, humanity has endured to this day, its numbers not shrinking but growing.” Lei Shen smiled. “It would seem humans aren’t quite as weak as you imagine.”

Tao Yao froze slightly.

“The gods simply appeared in this world a little earlier than humans, that’s all,” Lei Shen continued, his tone gentle. “Humans were never meant to be subordinate to the gods. If one must characterize the relationship, the gods are like elder siblings, and humans like younger ones — nothing more. When the younger siblings are still small, it’s only natural for the elder ones to offer some protection, but children eventually grow up, and the day inevitably comes when they must stand on their own. At that point, for the elder siblings to keep interfering in everything is no longer appropriate. On this front, Kunlun let go earlier than the heavens did. They made clear long ago that they may lend a hand to the human realm where appropriate, but never overstep into excessive interference — aside from conflicts and disasters caused by Kunlun’s own people, they otherwise never intervene. Even our most meddlesome Old Man Moon has largely stopped interfering in mortal marriages these days — ever since being rebuffed by Lord Hehe, he mostly just watches the romantic entanglements of mortal men and women from above.” He looked at Tao Yao and smiled. “Don’t you have a similar rule yourself — ‘treat the demons, not the humans’? I’d imagine Tao City understands this principle too; you simply haven’t come to realize it yet.”

Tao Yao fell silent for a long while, then said, “Even someone as evil as that… you’d let it go? Just look away?”

Lei Shen thought for a moment, then suddenly raised a hand. A black-covered book, glowing with a dim blue light, appeared beside him.

Tao Yao startled — this was the legendary Thunder God’s ledger of the damned. Why summon this thing out now?

Lei Shen snapped his fingers, and the book abruptly unfurled, spiraling out into the air, circle after circle, seemingly without end.

Though it was dizzying to look at, she could just barely make out the countless names densely packed across its pages. If it came to holding grudges, no one could rival Lei Shen — there was no telling how many unlucky souls filled that ledger.

“No need to show off how many demons have suffered at your hands,” Tao Yao huffed.

“This ledger doesn’t hold only criminal demons — there are fallen immortals here too, and once, criminal humans as well,” Lei Shen said, gazing at the ledger that never left his side, the dimly glowing names dancing in his eyes. “As Thunder God of the heavens, overseeing punishment, my task is to root out every criminal that endangers heaven and the mortal realm alike. You see only one Xiao Yuanxin, but you don’t see us scouring heaven and earth to hunt down fallen immortals gone astray who can level entire cities with their bare hands. You don’t see the divine soldiers and immortal generals devoured by evil demons while trying to save lives. You don’t see us using a god’s own essence to revive scorched earth, sparing entire populations from famine. And you certainly don’t see how we never demand anything of humans in return.” He paused, gesturing at his own ledger. “Many view this ledger as an ill omen, but regardless of how others see it, these names represent every single thing we’ve done for the safety of heaven and earth.”

Tao Yao looked at those unfamiliar names and said nothing.

Si Kuanglan lowered the sword in his hand, as though the need for a fight had already dissolved.

Lei Shen gave a slight wave of his hand, and the ledger closed itself back into his grip, vanishing without a trace in the next instant.

“One of you spends much of your time mingling in the human realm, and the other is human himself — you don’t seem like fools, either of you.” Lei Shen looked at them both. “Do you still not understand that the human heart is something even a god finds difficult to intervene in?”

Tao Yao glanced at Si Kuanglan; his sword had already returned to its sheath.

“We’re willing to heal every ‘external wound’ the human realm suffers. But internal wounds — those, only humans can heal themselves,” Lei Shen continued. “As for someone like Xiao Yuanxin — if I strike him down myself, the world simply gains one more man ‘unlucky enough to be struck by lightning.’ And then what of the second, the third, the countless more Xiao Yuanxins to come? Am I to strike them all down too?”

“So there’s no solution?” Tao Yao asked. The anger in her heart had suddenly faded, leaving only a faint, powerless disappointment. She’d never truly thought this deeply about it before — in the endless cycle of human seasons, Xiao Yuanxin was hardly the only one of his kind. Even a god, even someone as long-lived as herself, truly couldn’t guarantee striking down every Xiao Yuanxin before — or after — they committed their evil.

“It’s not that there’s no solution,” Lei Shen said, seeming rather pleased to see her seeking guidance. “For every evil, there must be a check upon it — that is the law of heaven and earth.”

“If that were truly so, why would there be people in this world whose evil goes unpunished?” Tao Yao disagreed. “No one checks them.”

“It’s not that no one can — it’s what you yourself called ‘looking away,'” Lei Shen said, looking out at the men and women in the street. “Out of cowardice, out of self-interest, out of private desire, out of a wish to avoid trouble — the more people capable of stopping evil who choose not to, the more evil goes unpunished.”

Hearing this, something stirred in Tao Yao’s heart — it seemed Lei Shen wasn’t simply some brute who only knew how to strike people down after all… yet she still couldn’t help muttering, “And yet Xiao Yuanxin’s lived comfortably all this time…”

“Where there’s a Xiao Yuanxin, there will also be someone like him.” Lei Shen suddenly raised a hand and pointed at Si Kuanglan. “I heard you say just now that your business with the Xiao household isn’t finished, and that you still have use for that little demon?”

“Precisely,” Si Kuanglan answered. “So whether you use force or lengthy argument, I still cannot let you take them.”

Lei Shen considered this for a moment, then held up a single finger. “One month. If you dare obstruct me again after that, it won’t be this easy.”

He was actually giving ground?!

A great weight lifted instantly from Tao Yao’s chest — only to come crashing right back as she blurted out, “No good! Still can’t hand them over to you! They may be foolish, but their crime doesn’t warrant death!”

“When did I ever say they were sentenced to death?” Lei Shen had lost count of how many times he’d frowned today. He glanced at the golden bell on Tao Yao’s wrist. “The heavens and Tao City ultimately share the same goal, in the end. Your bell hasn’t rung once, yet here you are inventing my verdict for me?”

“That’s because your reputation out there isn’t exactly great… killing demons like it’s nothing, and that’s not just me saying it,” she muttered, pouting.

“And your reputation is any better? You dare openly defy me, and you still claim you never threatened my subordinates?” Lei Shen shook his head. “Next time I see that man of yours, I’ll be sure to give him a full account of today’s events.”

“For a great god of the heavens, how petty can you be!” Tao Yao’s face turned nearly green. “Even if you tell him, he won’t take your side! You two aren’t even from the same faction!”

“We’ll see about that.”

Lei Shen snorted coldly and turned to leave, but then, seeming to remember something, turned back and walked toward Tao Yao.

Si Kuanglan warily pulled Tao Yao behind him, his expression flat. “Something else?”

Lei Shen produced a small wooden box from his robes and held it out to Tao Yao. “Lord Jiang asked me to deliver this to you.”

“He asked you to give this to me?” Hearing this, she quickly stepped out from behind Si Kuanglan to take the box, eagerly opening it. Inside lay a hair cord woven from red silk thread, adorned with a tiny jade peach blossom, white shading into pink — utterly charming.

Tao Yao looked up at Lei Shen with a sly grin. “So you really did drag him back after all. Though I didn’t hear any thunder those days I was in Luoyang, so I suppose he kept his life. Still, he didn’t have much of it left to begin with — how’s he doing now? Did you string him up and beat him?”

Lei Shen shot her a glare. “He was merely fleeing for his life — not truly a wicked criminal. Considering his body was already broken, I sentenced him only to labor in the Craft Workshop, working off his offense.”

“The Craft Workshop? The place in the heavens that makes and repairs everyday tools?”

“Since he’s skilled at mending things, isn’t it fitting to sentence him there? Besides, it’s a quiet place, close to the immortal fruit orchard — just breathing in the fruit’s spiritual essence each day should be enough to keep him alive.”

Holding the hair cord, Tao Yao felt a rare surge of joy in her heart. As long as he’d survived, that was enough.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly bowing sincerely to Lei Shen.

Lei Shen raised an eyebrow. “You ought to show such proper respect going forward, then.”

Tao Yao rolled her eyes. “One thing at a time. My standing in Tao City is hardly lower than yours in the heavens — and besides, why should I show respect to someone who just tried to strike me with lightning?”

“That was only a minor bolt,” Lei Shen said with a faint smile. “If I’d truly meant to take your life, the world would lose a capable physician. No benefit to me in that.”

“Benefit?” Tao Yao snorted coldly. “I treat demons, not humans. Whatever mess mortals get themselves into is none of my concern.” Then she quickly added, “The Xiao Yuanxin business doesn’t count! I was just angry and mouthing off. Besides, all I did was drive the demonic energy out of his body — I never even spoke a single word to him. Whatever happens to him from here on, I won’t be involved!”

“Stubborn to the last,” Lei Shen shook his head, then added, “The more demons you treat, the more humans end up better off too.”

Tao Yao froze, then quickly waved her hands. “No, no, no, that’s your interpretation. I’m strictly following Tao City’s rules here.”

Lei Shen ignored her further, glancing instead at Si Kuanglan. “Interesting, finding an oddity like you among mortals. No wonder you and that wild girl get along. Go have her put some medicine on your hand — blocking heavenly thunder bare-handed couldn’t have left you entirely unscathed.”

Faced with what might loosely be called praise and concern from a god, Si Kuanglan merely offered a faint smile. “Much appreciated. It’s nothing.”

Seeing Lei Shen about to leave, Tao Yao suddenly chased after him and grabbed his sleeve. “Wait!”

Lei Shen stared at the hand gripping his sleeve. “How dare you!”

Tao Yao quickly let go. “No, wait, I have another question for you, Lord Lei Shen!”

Lei Shen frowned. “Ask.”

“Ten years ago, the human-face demon confessed before the earth god’s statue, directly to the heavens. Didn’t you hear it?”

“I heard it,” Lei Shen said. “What of it?”

Tao Yao froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Nothing much. Just asking.”

Lei Shen turned to leave again, only to be grabbed once more by Tao Yao.

He looked at her with what remained of his patience.

“One more question!”

“Go on…”

“Is Lord Lei Shen betrothed to anyone?”

“None of your business.”

“Hey, hey! Wait, Lord Lei Shen, sign a few autographs before you go — I brought paper!!”

Another rumble of thunder sounded from above. Tao Yao quickly shut her mouth, watching the direction where Lei Shen had vanished, pouting in disappointment. “Not that I really wanted them anyway — but you’re the most sought-after figure among the celestial maidens, you know! I heard your autograph can fetch a whole basket of peaches on Kunlun these days! And it’s not just me who wants to know about your betrothal, plenty of people are curious. Tch, gone just like that.”

Si Kuanglan rubbed his temples. If Lei Shen ever struck her down again, maybe he shouldn’t bother blocking it for her…

The moment Tao Yao finished speaking, the surroundings began to shift faintly, the frozen world showing the first signs of movement again.

Si Kuanglan watched the surroundings carefully, his sword hand unconsciously tightening slightly, as though he’d entirely forgotten about the pain still flaring in his right arm.

Soon, the clouds in the sky began to drift again, the surrounding noise swelling from faint to loud, the street scene returning to how it had been at the start. Those who’d been trapped in the time-freezing spell had no idea any time had passed at all — only the sudden craters in the ground left them thoroughly baffled.

Young Zhao, crouched by the stove feeding in firewood, spotted the two of them standing outside the shop and called out in confusion, “You two, why’d you go outside? Was my cooking not to your taste?”

Tao Yao quickly turned and smiled at him. “Not at all! Absolutely delicious! Just too full now — we’ll come back another time.”

Si Kuanglan glanced sideways at her. “I expected you to ask for another pot.”

“The proprietor’s not going anywhere, no rush.” She suddenly walked back over to him and asked for two bowls of hot tea, then returned and held one out to Si Kuanglan. “Listening to him talk so much made me thirsty. Drink up.”

Si Kuanglan frowned.

“Drink!” She practically forced the bowl into his hands. “Finish it!” With that, she began gulping down her own.

Perhaps he really was a bit thirsty; after a moment’s hesitation, Si Kuanglan lifted the bowl and drained it completely.

Watching him finish, Tao Yao quietly let out a breath of relief, then suddenly, with exaggerated alarm, began rummaging through her pouch. “Oh no, where’d that pill of mine go? I must have dropped it just now without noticing… what a sin, that pain-relief medicine, the ingredients were so precious! Couldn’t have fallen in the tea, could it? No, impossible, it must have fallen somewhere on the road — I need to go find it. If someone else eats it by accident, that’s not on me!” With that, looking thoroughly anxious, she left Si Kuanglan behind and walked off, glancing this way and that.

Calling her shameless and unreasonable would be fair enough, but even when putting on an act, she still refused to break her own rule… “Treat demons, not humans”? But hadn’t she earlier said she’d treat his illness as payment? So what exactly was this pain-relief pill supposed to be? A down payment?

Si Kuanglan watched her clumsy, utterly shameless performance and flexed his right arm slightly. It did, in fact, seem to hurt a little less now.

4

The two of them returned to the Si estate one after the other, and Tao Yao was immediately seized by Young Master Liu and Mo Ya, pressed for every detail — beyond how the Xiao household matter had been resolved, they were far more interested in whether she and the Second Young Master had managed to “coexist peacefully” throughout the journey, and even more interested in whether the two of them, working closely together and staying out all night, had experienced any promising “developments” worth looking forward to. Mo Ya had even prepared soothing tea for Tao Yao’s throat in advance, along with a thoughtful plate of sunflower seeds…

Si Kuanglan, on the other hand, had summoned Steward Miao into the study the moment he walked in, not even stopping for a meal — heaven only knew what important matters they were discussing behind closed doors.

In stark contrast to that airtight conversation in the study, Tao Yao’s room saw more exclamations of shock that day than perhaps ever before.

“What? People can actually do that?!”

“What? Still can’t touch him? Should I just go eat him instead…?”

“What? Lei Shen came in person?”

“What, what?! You actually fought with Lei Shen? Are our ears broken or have you lost your mind?”

“What, what, what?! Second Young Master blocked heavenly thunder? And it actually worked?”

“…you’re sure it wasn’t just his lingering spirit, or some hallucination of yours, who came back with you?”

Thunk!

Mo Ya got another rap on the head, and Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “Can’t even tell living from dead and calling yourself a physician? Hallucination… did you both hallucinate together too!” She took a sip of tea from her cup and frowned. “Forget you two — even I was startled. He’s basically a monster!”

“But he really is just a flesh-and-blood mortal,” Young Master Liu said, cracking a sunflower seed between his fingers. “Either he’s got some extraordinary innate gift, or that sword of his is no ordinary weapon.”

Tao Yao nodded. “His sword’s blade energy can outrun even a demon — being one of the Si estate’s three treasures, it’s clearly no small thing. Just goes to show the mortal world isn’t lacking for divine weapons either.” She sighed. “Though honestly, it’s more likely just fearlessness born of ignorance. He has no idea how formidable Lei Shen actually is — it was his first time seeing him too.”

“Even if it’s his first time, the one standing across from him was still a god — surely he knew that much,” Mo Ya said, still shaken. “When mortals encounter a deity, how many can stay standing without dropping to their knees in a kowtow? Not only did he show no reverence, he actually raised a hand against the god… Amitabha, that the Second Young Master made it through unscathed must mean he’s done an awful lot of good deeds in his time!”

“And did she do a lot of good deeds too?” Young Master Liu pointed at Tao Yao’s head. “It’s that Lei Shen never actually intended to go after them in the first place. A god who’s earned that kind of standing in the heavens needs more than just the ability to strike people down — wisdom, breadth of mind, and presence all matter too. What he said to you two, I’d wager, was genuinely sincere.” He cracked open another plump, glossy-looking seed, only to spit it right back out with a frown. “Rotten…”

“Rotten…” Tao Yao’s fingers idly stirred through the plate of seeds, Lei Shen’s endless ledger seeming to spiral and unfurl once more before her eyes. After a long moment, she murmured to herself, “External wounds are easy to treat. Internal wounds are hard to cure.”

“It’s the same everywhere,” Young Master Liu said with a smile, then nudged her, changing the subject. “So, still crying and begging to marry Lei Shen these days?”

Tao Yao’s eyelids drooped instantly. “He actually tried to strike me with lightning!!”

Mo Ya quickly chimed in, “So it’s best to give up that idea quickly then! Life matters more than romance!”

Tao Yao shot him a look. “Hmph, you two are just afraid of getting caught up in my trouble.”

“That’s right, we’re afraid! Who wouldn’t be?!” Young Master Liu and Mo Ya said in unison.

“And you two call yourselves good partners and family… pah!” Tao Yao’s expression darkened, and she dumped the leftover seeds unceremoniously into Young Master Liu’s arms. “Out, out, I’m going to sleep.”

Pushed out the door, Mo Ya quickly protested, “Sleeping already? Not going to check on the Second Young Master? He risked his life blocking heavenly thunder for you! What if something’s wrong with him…”

“What could possibly be wrong! I already gave him my most valuable pain-relief, life-saving medicine…” Tao Yao blurted out, then immediately backpedaled. “Actually, I didn’t exactly give it to him — I just wasn’t holding it steady and it accidentally fell into his tea, which he happened to drink.”

“Oh… accidentally.” Young Master Liu and Mo Ya exchanged a knowing nod.

“Go on, go on, stop bothering me, I haven’t slept all night, I’m exhausted!” Tao Yao gave Young Master Liu a punch and retreated guiltily into her room.

Only once she was sure the two of them had gone quiet outside did she poke her head out again, then quietly slip out of the stables.

Saying she wasn’t worried at all would be a stretch… after all, he’d blocked a bolt of heavenly thunder. However gifted he might be, he was still only mortal flesh — even if it was only a “minor” bolt from Lei Shen, what if it left some hidden aftereffect… oh well, better go check on him.

Outside Si Kuanglan’s room, she crept around cautiously for a while — no light inside, no one there either.

Surely he wasn’t still shut up in the study? She turned to head that way, but was startled to find Si Kuanglan standing silently right behind her, his face, bathed in the cool moonlight, looking somewhat weary.

She jumped, quickly straightening up and patting her chest. “Can’t you make some noise when you walk at night?”

Si Kuanglan glanced at her, then at the window of his own room, and said coldly, “Trying to steal something?”

“I’m… stealing your window paper, is that all right? Your window paper’s worth a fortune!” Tao Yao put her hands on her hips and glared at him. Just as she’d thought — no matter what they went through together outside, the moment they returned to the Si estate, whatever connection had formed between them seemed to vanish instantly. Si Kuanglan couldn’t even spare her a single lively expression.

“My window paper isn’t something you can just steal either,” Si Kuanglan said, walking past her. “If there’s nothing to report, go rest.”

Seeing him about to leave, Tao Yao didn’t hesitate — she stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve, catching his wrist.

“You…” Si Kuanglan frowned but didn’t shake her hand off.

“Don’t move, I’ll just check your pulse and go.” Tao Yao’s fingers deftly pressed against his wrist.

Si Kuanglan didn’t move, and though he seemed rather reluctant, he let her fingers tap lightly against his pulse.

The courtyard was quieter than it had ever been; the two of them stood absorbed in a pool of moonlight, the only sounds each other’s soft breathing and heartbeat.

Finally, Tao Yao let out a soft breath, her expression noticeably relaxing, and withdrew her hand, returning to her usual playful grin. “You’re the Second Young Master who pays my wages — can’t have you left with any lasting health problems. Lei Shen may have shown restraint, but even a starved camel is bigger than a horse — you might not think much of it, but I can’t afford to. Still, looks like you’re actually fine — just a bit of drained vital energy. Since you’ve already accidentally taken my medicine, some rest should do the trick.” She emphasized the word “accidentally” with particular clarity.

“Unnecessary fuss,” Si Kuanglan shook his head, walking straight into his room, but paused before closing the door to add, “Make sure you look after those two little demons properly. The Xiao Yuanxin matter still needs their help.”

“They’re my patients already, no need for you to tell me. It’s just you…”

Before Tao Yao could finish, Si Kuanglan’s door had already shut, without much courtesy.

“This guy…” She made a face at his closed door, though she felt not the slightest bit of anger at being shut out. Even though he’d already done what he was supposed to do, even though she herself was thoroughly exhausted, he still kept in mind matters that shouldn’t even have been his concern. This man — he always seemed to say little and do much, both stubborn and dependable at once.

Maybe Lei Shen had been right. In a world with men like Xiao Yuanxin, there would also be men like Si Kuanglan.

Every evil has its check — she supposed she’d believe that, for now.

Light flickered on in the window, Si Kuanglan’s silhouette cast upon it — a handsome outline.

Tao Yao yawned and turned to leave. He had things to keep him busy, and so did she.

From that day on, Tao Yao suddenly became remarkably industrious.

Young Master Liu and Mo Ya both assumed she’d been struck by lightning into some strange ailment — normally so lazy, she’d suddenly grown diligent about treating patients. Aside from feeding the horses, leaving early and returning late became routine for her; sometimes she’d rush off before even finishing a meal, and on several occasions she’d be gone for days at a stretch, the first thing she did upon returning being to eat a huge meal and then collapse into bed. When asked, she’d simply say the line of demons waiting to burn paper for her had grown ridiculously long, driving her mad. Pressed further, she’d explain that treating more demons meant more stability for the human realm — first, to prove she hadn’t just come to the mortal world to freeload and accomplish nothing; second, if Lei Shen really did go complain to that person, she’d have one more reason to escape punishment, or at least offset her faults enough to keep her life.

It all seemed to check out. Mo Ya believed her, and even reminded her to be careful in everything, suggesting that when necessary, she should really bring him and Young Master Liu along for backup — after all, demons varied greatly in temperament and ability, some good-natured and some not, and not every one of them would be polite to her. Though the three of them had grown accustomed to living ordinary lives at the Si estate, they were, in the end, not ordinary people. They’d left Tao City together, and sooner or later they’d have to return together too — none of them could afford to run into trouble.

“The little monk’s got a point — working hard to build up your standing is fine, but ease up a little, you’re not made of iron either. It’s not like the line of demons waiting for you just formed today — if anything, blame your own past laziness for letting the backlog pile up. There’s no catching up on old debts overnight. You’ve been smoking pretty often lately too, haven’t you?” Young Master Liu leaned in to examine the top of her head. “Tsk tsk, is it just me, or is your hair getting thin up there?”

“Get lost!” Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “You’re a snake without a single hair on your whole body, and you have the nerve to call my hair thin?”

“Can’t even tell I’m worried about you, how hurtful.” Young Master Liu looked genuinely wounded, running a hand through his own hair. “My hair is clearly thick, black, and shiny — my human form is part of me too, you know!”

“The greatest kindness you could show me is talking less nonsense, cooking less, and writing less poetry,” Tao Yao huffed. “I’ve got my own plans for my own affairs. When you’re needed, none of you are getting out of it — when you’re not needed, do everyone a favor and just enjoy your ordinary lives here at the Si estate.”

Squabbles like this had already become the most common feature of their daily life.

Mo Ya noticed nothing amiss — after all, hadn’t the three of them always lived like this, bickering and mutually dependent, with him always the one taking the most blame and grief?

But Young Master Liu was different. He felt that Tao Yao lately wasn’t quite the same as before, and not just in her sudden diligence.

That evening, Tao Yao came back travel-worn once again, only to be called over by Young Master Liu, sitting on the grass at the stable yard.

“Whatever it is, make it quick, I’m dead tired,” she said impatiently through the fence.

Young Master Liu looked back at her and smiled. “I don’t think you’re actually afraid of Lei Shen tattling on you.”

“Huh?” Tao Yao didn’t quite catch on right away.

Young Master Liu turned his head back, twirling a blade of wild grass in his hand. “What exactly are you up to in secret?”

Tao Yao blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Your sudden ‘diligence’ is downright suspicious,” Young Master Liu said with a smile.

Tao Yao frowned. “That’s a strange thing to say. We live under the same roof — you probably know exactly how many bowls of rice I ate last night.”

Young Master Liu lifted the blade of grass into the slanting sunlight, watching it sway in the breeze. “What the little monk said was exactly what I wanted to say too — none of the three of us can afford to run into trouble. He might not see that something’s off with you. But you can’t hide it from me.”

Tao Yao paused, startled.

“There’s got to be a reason,” Young Master Liu continued. “Does it have something to do with Si Kuanglan? You two have been getting quite close lately.”

“Of course not,” Tao Yao denied flatly, then raised an eyebrow. “And if I have been getting close to him, you two deserve plenty of the credit — you and Steward Miao both keep pushing me toward him, don’t you? Fine, Steward Miao I understand, but why are you getting in on it too? Wasn’t it you who kept reminding me to remember I’m Tao Yao of Tao City, that this little stable-hand gig is just a passing chapter in my life?”

“Tsk tsk, I’ve barely said a few words and you’re already rattling off a whole speech. If that’s not getting defensive, what is.” Young Master Liu laughed. “I did remind you of that, true — that was my duty as your fellow Tao City native. But personally, I’ve never been one to meddle in others’ freedom. In the end, only you decide the direction of your own future — if your own heart isn’t in it, nothing anyone else says will make a difference.” He paused, swinging the blade of grass with a smile. “From what I’ve observed lately, someone like Si Kuanglan would make a fine lifelong companion. Just a shame mortals have such short lives.”

Tao Yao’s face flushed, and she rapped the fence. “Did you skip dinner and go dumb from hunger? Why would I need to entrust my whole life to someone else? I’m my own best guardian.”

“That, I believe,” Young Master Liu said, still smiling. “But Tao City doesn’t have nearly as many rules as the heavens do. If two people genuinely care for each other, anything can be worked out. Either way, don’t let yourself get all twisted up over some unnecessary pressure.”

“You must be drunk,” Tao Yao said, staring at the back of his head. “Honestly, I really don’t fear anyone tattling on me. But that ledger of Lei Shen’s keeps floating in front of my eyes even now — that day I suddenly realized those arrogant folks up in the heavens aren’t just living the high life without a care either.”

“So?”

“So, I’ve felt a bit guilty about my own past laziness,” Tao Yao said, putting particular emphasis on “a bit.” “Tao City’s people shouldn’t fall short of the heavens, and certainly shouldn’t fall short of humans either. I don’t care to sort out external wounds from internal ones — I’ll just do what I’m supposed to do, hoping to leave one less disappointment in this world for every bit I can manage. That way, at least, the next time some small demon like the human-face demon asks me a question like that, I won’t be left speechless.”

“That’s really all there is to it?” Young Master Liu asked with a smile.

“How much more complicated does it need to be?” Tao Yao shot back.

Young Master Liu turned his head; the pale red glow of the setting sun cast a gentle light over Tao Yao’s clothes. He smiled. “You’ve grown up.”

Tao Yao snorted and turned to leave.

“Tao Yao.” Young Master Liu called after her again, the last thread of light on the horizon flickering in his eyes. “I don’t just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy too. Our lives are so long — so do whatever you want to do. No one’s going to die from it. Fireworks may be brief, but they’re beautiful, and once you’ve seen them, you remember them for a lifetime.”

Tao Yao froze; Young Master Liu’s retreating figure suddenly blurred in her vision.

“If you don’t come back for dinner soon, you can just graze with the horses here!” She rubbed her eyes hard and ran off before he could turn back around.

She didn’t want him to see her expression right now, and didn’t want him to say things like that to her. She wished they could go on forever bickering and refusing to give an inch, forever finding new ways to annoy each other, forever defining their relationship in terms of mutual advantage, forever letting her keep the freedom to walk away whenever she pleased, forever keeping her heart free of any entanglements… but it seemed, more and more, that this was growing harder and harder to hold onto.

Well, no point dwelling on something so far off for now. At the very least, this time, the ones who’d left Tao City together would return together too, unharmed, all in one piece.

At the same time, she felt a twinge of guilt — she still hadn’t been entirely honest with Young Master Liu. Her diligence wasn’t only about earning credit for Tao City. As she’d said before, the trouble she caused, she’d clean up herself.

It would just take a little more time.

In the dusk, she ran quickly, afraid that if she slowed down, Young Master Liu might catch up and see through this sly, kitchen-disaster of a serpent’s suspicions.

5

The early spring weather wavered between warm and cold, tender new shoots stubbornly poking their heads up throughout the courtyard.

Over the past month, Tao Yao had sealed deals with quite a few more demons, showing no signs of slowing down, seemingly having grown accustomed to a life of constant travel.

Perhaps in keeping with the saying that “the whole year’s plans start in spring,” everyone at the Si estate had grown busy after the New Year. Aside from meditating, chanting sutras, and diligently raising chickens and foxes, Mo Ya had also taken to earnestly studying various planting techniques, as though terrified of ever running short of vegetables, while Gungun enthusiastically helped him dig soil and catch bugs, the two working together with remarkable coordination. Young Master Liu, meanwhile, busied himself researching various ancient recipes — though it did little to actually improve his cooking. Fortunately, Steward Miao took pity on everyone, and the Si estate finally hired a new head chef after the New Year — arguably the first good news of the year…

Si Jingyuan, still lingering in Luoyang, finally remembered to send a letter home, saying he’d be returning even later than expected, going on about how the vast rivers and mountains mustn’t be squandered, how spring’s beauty made it easy to find kindred spirits — in short, a whole pile of nonsense that all boiled down to: I absolutely will not be coming back to be locked up and made to copy characters, I’ve finally gotten out to stretch my legs, so I’m going to make the most of it. I’ll know to come home once I’ve had my fill of fun. Don’t worry about me.

As for Si Kuanglan, she barely had the chance to run into him at all — either he was out of the estate, or she was out making house calls. It was only mid-month that Si Kuanglan came to ask her for the human-face demon and Yinyin, saying he’d bring them back within three days at most. The two demons, having spent so many days recuperating in her medicine bottles, had long since recovered — the human-face demon had safely returned to its body, and Tao Yao had washed the star-phosphorus beast bone powder off Yinyin, restoring its power of invisibility, and had settled them both at the Si estate. When Si Kuanglan came to collect them, she didn’t hesitate, placing them into a crookedly hand-sewn cloth pouch and handing it over to him, along with instructions to handle them carefully and be sure to return them, unharmed, in exactly three days.

Three days later, Si Kuanglan returned both demons right on schedule.

Tao Yao didn’t ask where he’d taken them, only asking, “Did it help with your case?”

Si Kuanglan nodded. “The result isn’t fully satisfactory, but it’s close enough — eighty percent there, perhaps.”

“What does that mean?”

“At the very latest, all will become clear by the time spring flowers bloom.”

She knew he never spoke without confidence in what he said, so if it was to be revealed when spring flowers bloomed, then she’d simply wait a little longer.

During this time, she made another trip out to Cloud Beyond Valley — the human-face demon had said that before Lei Shen came to collect them, it wanted to visit once more the place it had lived for decades, and to see Old Feng one last time.

That day, Tao Yao helped it burn paper money for Old Feng, and even prepared a pot of good wine for him.

The last thing the human-face demon said to Old Feng was an apology — that it had never gotten the chance to let him see it bloom in peace, just once.

Had Old Feng heard it, he probably would have patted its head and said it didn’t matter — whether it ever bloomed or not, he’d have been happy regardless.

Every bond, in the end, ought to have both a beginning and an end.

The spring breeze and the scent of wine in Cloud Beyond Valley saw them off.

Three days later, Lei Shen’s subordinates arrived to find her right on schedule — the same two men she’d threatened before, wearing expressions that were part fear, part resentment, part sheer reluctance to provoke her further at the sight of her.

She asked what Lei Shen planned to do with the two demons. They told her Lei Shen had decided to sentence them to the immortal fruit orchard, saying that mischievous young immortals had lately been sneaking in to steal fruit, so the two demons would atone for their crimes by guarding the orchard properly — if they went three years without incident, they’d be spared the twenty strokes of the immortal cane.

Tao Yao breathed a sigh of relief, glanced at the peach-blossom hair cord tied to the end of her whip, and finally let go entirely of her “old grudge” against Lei Shen for striking her with lightning. She definitely still didn’t want to marry the man, but she did hold genuine respect for him now — though she’d never admit that to him. So, with an amiable expression, she cupped her hands toward the two men. “Thank you both, and please convey my gratitude to Lord Lei Shen. I did offend him more than once before — I hope you two won’t hold it against me either, and won’t go around telling people I’m some vicious shrew from Tao City. I’m not vicious at all, really.”

“…um, we never said anything like that.”

“Right, why would we be so disrespectful to Lady Tao Yao? We absolutely never said such a thing, that’s all slander.”

“Oh… must be a misunderstanding, then. You two go on, no need to see you off.”

Her expression looked perfectly pleasant, but the two men looked thoroughly unsettled, still on edge all the way back to the heavens, terrified that Tao Yao had secretly slipped some poison onto them while chatting. This small-minded woman — her smile was far more terrifying than her scowl!

Tao Yao smiled and waved them off, watching their figures vanish into the sky, then held up her right hand, examining it, and blew away a faint trace of powder clinging to her fingers, clapping her hands together with a laugh. “Talk badly about me, will you… enjoy three days of itching, guaranteed to satisfy you right down to the bone. Hehe.”

A few bees buzzed happily through the flowers. Tao Yao stretched, breathing deep the sweet spring air, and headed back to the Si estate, thoroughly content.

The mood soured by the Xiao household affair had finally lifted considerably.

Before she knew it, the warm days of spring truly arrived, and in the blink of an eye it was already April, the afternoon sun carrying a faint hint of heat.

That day, she was basking in the sun in the plum grove when Steward Miao suddenly came to find her, saying the Second Young Master had asked him to pass along a message — she was to accompany him out somewhere tomorrow morning.

“Where to?” Tao Yao asked, puzzled, then her eyes widened with delight. “Don’t tell me he’s inviting me on a spring outing!”

Steward Miao smiled awkwardly. “A spring outing… knowing the Second Young Master as I do, probably not.”

“Then what’s the point of me going with him?”

“The Second Young Master said, if you’re going to ask that, you don’t have to come.”

“I’m going!”

“Then it’s settled.”

And so, Tao Yao spent the rest of the day and night consumed by an almost bursting curiosity.

The next morning, two horses stood waiting early.

Si Kuanglan took the reins from a young servant and swung himself up onto his horse, turning back to Tao Yao, who was still dawdling. “If you’re late, we’ll miss it.”

So there really was something good waiting for her?! Tao Yao quickly leaped onto her horse.

Under his lead, the two of them rode straight for the eastern outskirts of the city, finally stopping before a pavilion perched on a hillside, its faded, weathered plaque bearing the characters “Gazing Homeward” — no telling how many years it had stood.

After tying up the horses, Si Kuanglan settled himself into the pavilion without a word, gazing toward some particular direction down the slope.

The weather wasn’t great today — a light drizzle had already begun to fall. Tao Yao sat down beside him and followed his line of sight downward — aside from an empty, muddy road, there was nothing there at all. Surely he hadn’t brought her all the way out here just to look at a shabby road?

Wait, there did seem to be someone there.

Looking closer, she spotted two white umbrellas propped beneath a large tree by the roadside — impossible to make out who stood beneath them, only glimpses of skirt hems and embroidered shoes visible, apparently two women. There was nothing particularly scenic about this area, and with the weather this poor, they were unlikely to be out for leisurely sightseeing.

“Does the Second Young Master enjoy watching the rain in such a barren spot?” Tao Yao glanced around again — aside from the figures beneath the umbrellas, there was nothing else worth a second look.

Si Kuanglan didn’t answer, his attention fixed solely on that one direction.

Finding no satisfaction in pressing further, Tao Yao gave up asking, leaning idly against the railing, chin in hand, waiting to see what this rain might bring her way.

After roughly the time it takes to brew a pot of tea, amid the steadily intensifying rain, a few figures gradually appeared far down the muddy road, accompanied by the faint sound of hoofbeats. As they drew closer, she could make out two men in wide-brimmed hats and straw rain capes, riding two black horses, moving slowly in single file. The horses, too, seemed remarkably well-trained, maintaining an identical pace throughout, keeping a constant distance between them so that the person walking between them, struggling along, wouldn’t risk being kicked by their hooves.

Tao Yao’s eyes went wide — the person walking between the two horses was, unmistakably, a shackled prisoner, the chains on his hands and feet clanking with every stumbling step, the harshest sound in the whole surrounding scene. And this staggering prisoner, judging by his build, had clearly lived well before his crimes — plump and pale, only his prison uniform looking soiled and worn.

Even across the gap of the hillside, she recognized that despondent face above the shackles at once.

Xiao Yuanxin… now with his face fully restored to human form, he looked genuinely uncomfortable in his own skin.

“How did this happen?” She looked to Si Kuanglan.

“Collusion with foreign enemies, smuggling and bribery, indulgence in vile witchcraft,” Si Kuanglan said flatly. “Three grave crimes. Xiao Yuanxin is being exiled to Shamen Island, never to be pardoned. The entire Xiao estate’s assets have been confiscated by the state.”

Tao Yao asked, surprised, “Who passed this judgment?”

“A case for the Bi’an Bureau is naturally investigated and judged by the Bi’an Bureau itself — every effort made to uncover the full truth, the sentence entirely impartial, then submitted for the emperor’s final approval before the case is closed.” Si Kuanglan watched the two figures in the rain below, his eyes betraying no flicker of emotion. “‘Strange cases’ the local authorities find inconvenient to handle have always fallen to the Bi’an Bureau to resolve on their behalf. A leopard doesn’t change its spots — a man like Xiao Yuanxin, capable of such monstrous deeds, was bound to have other transgressions as well. Dig deep enough, and something will always surface. Though the Bi’an Bureau operates outside the formal court, forming its own separate branch, and its methods may seem unconventional at times, it too holds the duty of safeguarding the realm and protecting the people, acting strictly according to law — neither excessive nor lenient.” He paused here, as though recalling something, and smiled faintly. “Every evil has its check — but that check must be built on solid evidence, proper law, sound reasoning. So now, you finally have something to say to that little demon. It came late, I know, but those who don’t deserve a good life will eventually get the life they truly deserve.”

She felt a weight lift from her heart, but still said, “Whatever the Bi’an Bureau’s stance on the realm and its people, back at Chongxiao Tower, they showed the demons no mercy at all. Even someone as good-natured as Steward Miao doesn’t seem to think much of them. And you yourself have been working against them, openly and covertly, haven’t you?”

“When have I ever worked against them?” Si Kuanglan denied it. “We simply stand in different positions, that’s all.”

Tao Yao snorted.

Just then, a heart-wrenching wail of grief rose from the base of the hillside.

The white umbrella had been tossed aside, and Madam Xiao, her face a mess of tears and rain, had collapsed to her knees before her husband, clinging desperately to his legs. The wind and rain were fierce, and though her words were hard to make out clearly, one could guess well enough what she was saying.

This man was her entire world, and now, with this departure, it was a final farewell between the living and the dead. Now, as the wife of a convicted criminal, a woman left with nothing, what else could she do besides hand him the provisions and the last of her money from her basket, weeping her heart out?

Tao Yao had no wish to sort out what exactly she felt toward this woman — whether anger or regret no longer mattered. In that moment, she only found herself hoping the rain might ease up a little, so that at least this final farewell wouldn’t be quite so wretched.

Nor did she care to press Si Kuanglan further on exactly how he’d accomplished all this behind the scenes. The Bi’an Bureau was to him what Tao City was to her — each their own separate world, and perhaps now wasn’t yet the time for them to fully understand each other’s inner workings. She only knew that the matter of the Xiao household had reached its conclusion here. Whatever she could do, whatever he could do, had all been done. The small demon and those who had passed on, all the confusion and grievances buried in years and tears, should surely be washed clean by this rain.

The weeping, the clanking chains, the hoofbeats — all gradually faded away into the dense spring rain.

Tao Yao glanced at Madam Xiao, now fainted in a maid’s arms, then turned to Si Kuanglan. “Let’s go back.”

“No more problems?” Si Kuanglan looked at her. “Once we’re back, no more pestering me.”

Tao Yao pursed her lips. “I thought his head might roll. Turns out it’s just exile.”

“His crimes concerning Xiao’An’s death alone would have warranted a death sentence, but with only the human-face demon’s testimony to go on, and the physician couple who tried to save Xiao’An both deceased, and Xiao’An’s remains nowhere to be found — though we know the truth in our hearts, without locating the victim’s body, the law makes it difficult to convict him of murder. However…” Si Kuanglan turned to glance once more in the direction the group had departed. “Do you think exile is more merciful than execution?”

Tao Yao thought about it. “Given how pampered and soft that body of his is, whether he even survives the journey to his destination is anyone’s guess. A quick blade would have spared him the suffering. You’re right — I was being narrow-minded.”

“Rare for you to admit that about yourself,” Si Kuanglan said with a smile, stepping out of the pavilion and mounting his horse.

Tao Yao stuck her tongue out at him — today, she could forgive him for every bit of his sharp-tongued sarcasm.

The rain gradually eased, falling lightly on her face with a tickling sensation, carrying the scent of grass and wildflowers.

The two horses, bearing riders who for once weren’t sniping at each other, ran easily along the road home.

As they went, Tao Yao suddenly called out, “Si Kuanglan, let’s go get soup dishes again! The timing’s just right today, no need to buy out the whole shop. My treat — how about it!”

“You actually carry money when you go out?”

“Of course I carry money!”

“That’s what Young Master Liu told me.”

“…”

The worse the weather, the more one ought to seek out the food one loves — that way, the rest of the day would pass all the happier.

6

Who would have thought… happiness could vanish just like that.

Tao Yao stood dumbstruck outside “Young Zhao’s Soup Kitchen,” and if it weren’t for the shop’s signboard lying amid the rubble of bricks and tiles at her feet, she’d have sworn she’d come to the wrong place entirely.

Barely a month or two since her last visit, and a perfectly fine shop had become a crumbling wreck, hardly more than two crooked, half-standing walls?

After asking around, she learned it had happened three days earlier — before dawn, a single deafening crash, and Young Zhao’s shop’s walls had simply collapsed, smashing everything inside to pieces. Fortunately it had been nighttime with no one in the shop, or there surely would have been casualties. More alarming still, it wasn’t just Young Zhao’s place — the jade shop and tailor’s along the neighboring street had suffered the exact same fate overnight. Miraculously, no one was hurt, though the jade shop owner, surveying his shattered stones and jewelry, wept as though he’d lost half his own life.

Tao Yao felt genuinely distraught too — how long now before she could enjoy her beloved soup dishes again?

A passerby beside her shook his head. “The buildings on this street are all quite old — no one’s ever really maintained them properly. Who’d have thought they’d actually collapse! They say the wind was fierce that night, but how strong could an April wind really get? Strong enough to knock down walls? Hardly seems possible.”

Ignoring the bystanders’ attempts to stop him, Si Kuanglan went in and thoroughly inspected the ill-fated place, finally fixing his gaze on the two surviving, precarious walls. “It really wasn’t the wind. The bricks and stones in the wall are all cracked — no wonder they couldn’t hold.”

Tao Yao picked up a lone chopstick from the rubble and sighed. “If they knew it was an old building, they should have been more careful. Small cracks left unattended eventually become big wounds.” As she spoke, something felt off, and she muttered, “But even for an old building, this seems too much of a coincidence — three old houses all collapsing on the same night?… If it were some kind of earthquake, it couldn’t have affected only three buildings.”

Si Kuanglan walked over to her side. “What are you muttering about?”

“I… never mind, nothing,” Tao Yao tossed the chopstick aside, looking dejected. “Guess it’s just bad luck for them — these buildings probably had hidden structural issues from the start. Now I’m the one stuck without my favorite meal.”

“As long as Young Zhao himself is fine, the shop will reopen sooner or later,” Si Kuanglan said, looking at the fallen signboard on the ground, bending down to pick it up, shaking off the dust, and hanging it somewhere clean. “Let’s go back and eat at home.”

“Mm…” Tao Yao still looked thoroughly disappointed.

“Steward Miao mentioned Chef Zhan plans to make his signature dish today — Lotus Crystal Jade Meat in Clear Sauce. Quite the mouthful of a name, though who knows what it actually tastes like,” Si Kuanglan said casually.

Chef Zhan was the Si estate’s newly hired head chef, and lately the only person whose name alone could instantly brighten Tao Yao’s mood.

She sincerely wished young proprietor Zhao a swift recovery in her heart, then immediately followed Si Kuanglan back home without a second thought. On the way, what occupied her mind most was whether that impossibly long-named dish would be enough to go around for everyone…

They finally made it back to the estate. The moment they stepped through the gate, they found a group of young servants carrying ladders around, while others busily inspected the walls throughout the estate, as though terrified of missing something important.

“What’s going on here?” Si Kuanglan asked.

A young servant hurried forward. “Second Young Master, Steward Miao gave the order — some of the rooms in our estate have developed cracks in the walls, and he wants us to inspect every room immediately, sealing and reinforcing anything we find right away. We’ve been at it all morning already.”

Hearing this, Tao Yao grew puzzled and asked Si Kuanglan, “Has Steward Miao ever mobilized things like this before?”

“Never,” Si Kuanglan said, looking somewhat puzzled himself. “Every brick and tile of the Si estate is remarkably sturdy — whether facing fierce storms or earthquakes, we’ve never suffered any major damage. Steward Miao usually only does routine inspections and repairs each year. He’s never been this anxious before.”

That only made it stranger still, and Tao Yao’s brow furrowed.

After everyone finished their thorough inspection, thankfully, aside from the crack Steward Miao had found on the west wall of the dining hall, nothing else in the estate showed any sign of trouble.

In the dining hall, Tao Yao stood before the west wall, carefully examining the crack, a full three feet long, running from the base of the wall and remarkably deep, as though it had been carved in with a knife.

“Good thing we found it early, or it would have caused real trouble eventually,” Steward Miao said, still shaken. “I’ve already brought in the best craftsmen to repair and reinforce it. No need to worry, everyone.”

“When did it crack? Today?” Tao Yao asked him.

“We only discovered it today,” Steward Miao said. “But judging by how fresh the crack looks, it’s probably from just the past day or two. Nothing like this has ever happened at the Si estate before, which is exactly why I took it so seriously.”

Young Master Liu stepped forward to examine the crack up and down, scratching his head. “Someone secretly took a hammer to the wall?”

“Who would do such a thing…” Steward Miao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Were you gnawing on something delicious in your sleep?” Young Master Liu stared at Gungun, circling around at his feet, floating another theory.

Mo Ya was naturally the first to object. “Gungun sleeps right beside me every night — its sleeping habits are far better than yours! Why not say you’re the one who smacked your own head into the wall trying to catch something you wanted to eat!”

Tao Yao stared thoughtfully at Young Master Liu — a snake chasing a mouse, and mice always run along the wall’s edge… that theory actually made a surprising amount of sense.

“What are you looking at me for?” Young Master Liu hissed through gritted teeth in her ear. “I don’t eat house pets!”

“What if you fancied a change of taste?” Tao Yao shrugged.

“I’m entirely devoted to one diet!”

Steward Miao looked thoroughly baffled by the whole exchange.

Si Kuanglan, uninterested in their bickering, ran a hand over the crack. “This section of the structure has never been altered — there’s no sudden pressure that could explain it, nor any deliberate damage. By all logic, a wound this deep shouldn’t exist.”

Tao Yao couldn’t help thinking again of the three collapsed buildings in the market, all happening within these same two or three days — surely too much of a coincidence. She, too, reached out and touched the crack, leaving a smudge of gray-black residue on her fingertip, a faint trace of something dissipating from the mark. She sniffed it and said nothing.

However strange it seemed, it was still, in the end, just a crack — an old house, after all, occasional wear and tear wasn’t unreasonable. After a brief discussion, everyone dispersed to eat and rest, quickly setting the day’s incident aside.

That night, Tao Yao lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, the crack in the dining hall wall floating persistently before her eyes.

Lying there, she finally said, “No, this won’t do.” She decisively leapt out of bed, slipped quietly out of her room, and crept stealthily to the dining hall.

It was now roughly the second watch of the night; the dining hall sat in complete darkness, only the faint glow of the corridor lanterns falling across the windows, barely enough light filtering through the half-open door to make out the shapes inside.

Tao Yao held her breath and entered, moving silently as a cat to the spot nearest the crack, crouching down, unsure what exactly she was waiting for.

Aside from the occasional rustle of leaves in the courtyard and a few lazy insect chirps, the dining hall offered no other sound at all. Tao Yao showed no sign of leaving, patiently maintaining her stealthy crouch.

After a while longer, faint sounds, thin as mosquito buzzing, began drifting out from the crack. Tao Yao’s eyes lit up, and she leaned her head in closer.

“Let go of me!”

“We can’t leave!”

“Big Brother and Second Brother already left!”

“So we have to leave too, just because they did?”

“What else can we do? Wait around to be caught and killed by that vile thing?”

“If we don’t go out, it won’t happen!”

“And what about our uncles and their whole families? Weren’t they caught too? With a monster like this around, if we don’t leave now, we’ll end up just like them!”

“Our place isn’t like theirs — that monster probably can’t even get near us here! Brother, you’re just being a coward. Besides, if we leave, we’re abandoning this home forever — we can’t get into anywhere else either. From then on, exposed to wind and sun with nowhere to hide, anyone could make a meal of us!”

“At least out there we have a fighting chance — staying here just means dying faster! I don’t believe the Si estate can hold that thing off! You want to stay, then stay — don’t try to stop me!”

An argument, then?!

Tao Yao held her breath completely, terrified of disturbing whatever was inside the crack.

A moment later, a tiny, inch-tall black figure squeezed itself out of the crack — barely humanoid, as though poured from dark malt candy, soft and sticky-looking, its bald head without a single hair, its oversized ears absurdly large, like a pair of elephant ears attached to the wrong body. Its face bore only three round holes — eyes and a mouth, presumably — altogether a rather comical-looking creature. Right behind it, half-emerging from the crack, was an almost identical figure, the one behind gripping tightly onto the one in front, refusing to let it leave. In the struggle, the two of them tumbled out together, rolling onto the floor.

Tao Yao happened to be crouched right in front of them, and finally spoke up with a grin. “And where might you two be off to in such a hurry?”

The two creatures only then noticed her crouched in the darkness, and let out a startled shriek, clutching their heads and moving to flee.

“Unless you’d like to become a puddle of blood right now, don’t run. I’m not the monster — no need to be afraid,” Tao Yao warned calmly.

The two little things flinched, pressing themselves against the wall, not daring to run further. One of them stammered, trembling, “You… you’re from the Si estate?”

“Such a pity, those two big ears of yours — cooped up in these brick walls year after year, only ever hearing the voices of your own kind. No wonder you don’t recognize me. I’m Tao Yao of Tao City.”

The two little things exchanged blank glances for a long moment.

“Ever heard of it?”

“This… ah! Seems like I heard great-grandfather mention it long ago, something about a ghost-doctor from Tao City…”

“Tao City? Some formidable place?”

“Great-grandfather said it’s a place specifically dedicated to dealing with demons! Any who misbehave get locked up — even killed!”

“Ah?!”

Tao Yao almost laughed hearing this — truly, it was a lot to ask of these two clueless creatures relying on secondhand rumors.

“Fine, all you need to know is that Tao City handles demon affairs.” Tao Yao couldn’t be bothered to explain further, simply tapping a finger against the wall. “Your kind, the Shi Gu clan, spends your entire lives within brick walls, never once venturing elsewhere. Why do you look like you’re trying to abandon your home and flee for your lives?”

“She knows about us.”

“Such an impressive person.”

Tao Yao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The two of them muttered back and forth for a while, then one finally worked up the courage to ask, “Are you really not going to hurt us?”

“I’ll only deal with you if you’ve done something wrong.”

“We haven’t! We really haven’t done anything wrong!” they both waved their hands frantically. “Some vile thing has come to the capital, specifically hunting our kind — the news just spread, and several of our relatives’ families have already fallen victim! Our Big Brother and Second Brother fled last night already. Once this news fully spreads, I’m afraid every one of our kind in the capital will be forced to flee for their lives.”

Tao Yao frowned. “What kind of vile thing?”

“We don’t know,” they shook their heads. “Normally, as long as we don’t leave home, nothing can touch us, but apparently this vile thing makes some kind of terrifying sound — if any of our kind happens to be within range when it sounds, nine times out of ten they lose their senses entirely, involuntarily crawling out of the wall and following that sound straight to it, and then… well, we’re terrified. These past few days we’ve been living in constant fear of hearing any strange sound at all!”

Tao Yao thought for a moment, puzzled. “What would it want with you all… you’re not particularly tasty, and not much use either.”

“We have no idea either!” the two creatures wailed, thoroughly aggrieved. “Our Shi Gu clan may be somewhat numerous, but we’ve always kept to ourselves, never harmed anyone — we even help humans protect their homes! How could we possibly have offended a monster like this!”

Tao Yao considered this, then said to them, “All right, while you still have the chance to go home, hurry back where you came from. I’ll deal with the vile thing myself. Don’t you dare entertain any more thoughts of running away — I give you my word, in the name of Tao City, that as long as I’m handling this, no one will be able to touch you.”

“Really?” The two creatures instantly brightened with relief. “You’re not lying to us?”

“You’ve got neither money nor looks — what would I even gain from lying to you!” Tao Yao rolled her eyes at them, tapping the wall again. “Now hurry back inside! If there’s so much as one more crack anywhere in this estate, I’m holding you both responsible — and next time, I won’t even need some vile monster to do the job. I’ll tear this estate apart myself and drag you out to kill you!”

“Yes… yes…” Terrified, the two demons scrambled hastily back into the crack.

“Wait!” Tao Yao called after them again.

“You can’t go back on your word now!” they said, nearly in tears from fright.

“I know your Shi Gu clan has your own ways of passing along news. Pass on everything I just told you to all your relatives in the capital — tell them not to rush into fleeing. Within seven days, you won’t need to fear that monster any longer. But — if anyone dares abandon their home and run within these seven days, causing others’ walls to collapse and homes to crumble, I won’t go easy on a single one of them!”

“Yes, yes!”

Tao Yao watched the demons’ figures disappear back into the crack, but her heart felt no lighter for it.

Epilogue

“The Si estate has Shi Gu demons?” Young Master Liu, shaken awake by Tao Yao, blinked groggily.

Mo Ya, cradling a still-drooling, sleep-drunk Gungun, looked equally baffled. “Shi Gu — those are the tiny, tiny ones that make their nests in the walls of human buildings and never like to venture outside… little demons?”

“Yes.” Tao Yao paid no mind to whether the two of them were fully awake yet, her brow furrowed since the moment she’d walked in. “Shi Gu — an inch in length, roughly humanoid, gentle by nature, fond of nesting within walls. Once a wall is chosen, they never leave it for the rest of their lives. A house with a Shi Gu in residence stands eternally sound. Should one leave its wall partway through its life, the wall cracks, and after three days it can never return, nor can it choose a new nest — without a nest to protect it, its life will not last long.”

Young Master Liu rubbed his eyes. “I know about them, sure — plenty of buildings in the human world have this kind of demon. They’re a strange bunch too, so many wonderful places in the world, and yet they’d rather spend their whole lives inside a single wall. No idea what kind of world exists in there.”

“But they’re good demons,” Mo Ya said, thinking it over. “Though not every building in the human world depends on a Shi Gu to stand strong for centuries — having one certainly helps, and lacking one isn’t necessarily fatal either. If a truly major disaster struck, a Shi Gu’s power would have its limits too. But not every ordinary house in town is built with the same sturdiness, and if a Shi Gu happens to move in, it exactly compensates for that weakness, giving the people living there an extra measure of safety — enough that a strong gust of wind won’t just blow the place down.”

With that, the two of them, still bleary with sleep, both fixed their gazes on Tao Yao. “So you woke us up at this hour just to tell us this kind of demon exists?”

Tao Yao seized both their ears at once. “Wake up! Something serious is happening!”

Only then did she explain, in full detail, what had just happened in the dining hall — how she’d caught the two Shi Gu demons.

Young Master Liu, clutching his ear, finally snapped fully awake. “So you’re saying the crack in the dining hall wall is because some of the Shi Gu living at the Si estate have fled?”

Tao Yao nodded. “Fortunately, the Si estate is built solidly, and a Shi Gu’s role is more like the finishing touch on something already strong — so a few leaving isn’t a huge problem, at most another crack or two in that wall. But Young Zhao’s shop, and those ordinary houses and buildings throughout the market, don’t have that luxury. Any place built with corner-cutting and shaky foundations relies entirely on its Shi Gu to stay standing safely — the moment it loses its Shi Gu, even just two walls collapsing could spell disaster. That those three buildings had no casualties this time was pure luck.” She looked out at the pitch-black night outside the window. “So what happens if every Shi Gu across the entire capital flees within just a few days?”

Mo Ya immediately grasped the implication, his face changing color too. “Then who knows how many innocent people could be caught up in this disaster! Even a single collapsing wall could crush someone to death!”

Young Master Liu shook his head. “It’s probably not just ordinary people at risk — even the imperial palace and noble estates could suffer too. There are simply too many Shi Gu to count, and there’s no way to figure out in time how many buildings serve as their nests. No way to prevent it.”

“Shi Gu are naturally lazy by nature — they’d never leave the home they’ve chosen unless truly desperate. And as long as they stay within the wall, it’s genuinely difficult for anyone outside to harm them — even if Lei Shen brought down a massive bolt of thunder and blew the entire house apart, as long as a single fragment of stone remained, a Shi Gu could hide within that fragment and survive. With good luck, it might even get picked up years later and built into a new wall, starting a fresh life all over again. And if it never gets picked up, no matter — its nest just ends up smaller, that’s all. They’re foolish creatures, they wouldn’t mind.” Tao Yao scratched her nose. “But foolish as they are, they’re also genuinely, deeply timid. If some vile creature really has found a way to lure them out of their nests and harm them, they truly would abandon their homes to save their own lives — better to live a few years less than face that.”

Young Master Liu counted on his fingers. “You promised them you’d resolve this within seven days?”

“I originally meant to say three,” Tao Yao stretched. “The sooner a Shi Gu’s fears are put to rest, the less trouble it causes.”

“But right now, all we know is there’s some vile thing out there — we don’t even know if it’s male or female, square or round. How are we supposed to even begin?” Young Master Liu found the situation rather thorny.

Tao Yao shrugged. “We look for it, what else.”

Whether it was young proprietor Zhao’s shop or the Si estate’s dining hall, the places she loved — none of them could be allowed to fall to ruin.

Let’s see, then, just who the real “vile thing” is.

At that moment, deep in the heavy night, a large black cat crouched atop a rooftop, gazing coldly down at the sparse lights of the city below…