Prologue
It doesn’t matter. Even without my cultivation, I can still keep cultivating.
It had rained for three days straight, and the chill of autumn’s tail end came chasing after it.
Tao Yao rested her chin on the windowsill, staring blankly outside, muttering to herself: “One… two… seventeen…”
Mo Ya, crouched in the courtyard feeding the chickens, glanced back at the window, shook his head, and turned back to the hens busily pecking at their feed. “She has all the time in the world to space out, but never any time to wipe the table, sweep the floor, or feed you lot. And she’s the one who insisted on raising chickens! Sigh, someone this lazy is going to have a hard time getting married, isn’t she? Not even as hardworking as you—at least you lay eggs.”
Just as he finished speaking, someone came through the gate. Young Master Liu strolled in unhurriedly, carrying a bag of vegetables and fruit.
“Young Master Liu’s back.” Mo Ya crouched where he was and called out a greeting. “The clothesline’s broken. Fix it later, or there’ll be no way to dry laundry.”
“We’re nearly too poor to buy clothes, and you’re worried about drying them?” Young Master Liu’s eyelids drooped as he glanced toward the stable that had been converted into a chicken coop. “By the way, your fox is stealing chickens again.”
“What?!” Mo Ya scrambled up and looked over urgently. A big rooster burst out flapping its wings and shrieking bloody murder, and Gungun—smaller than the rooster itself—bounded out after it in high spirits, drooling, and lunged forward to clamp its jaws on the rooster’s wing, dragging it backward with all its might.
Mo Ya rushed over in a panic to rescue the rooster, then furiously smacked Gungun’s rear. “Why can’t you ever control yourself! You’ve been with me for quite a while now—didn’t we agree, no killing, no meat?!”
Held up by the scruff in Mo Ya’s hand, Gungun spat out a few feathers, grumbling unhappily, rolling its eyes now and then in shameless defiance.
“Not convinced? Fine, let’s have a proper talk.” Mo Ya sat right down, pointing at Gungun’s nose. “Let’s start with the preciousness of life.”
The moment Gungun heard this, it flopped onto its back on the ground and played dead.
“Playing dead won’t help—you need to listen with your heart!” Mo Ya ignored its silent protest, and with the tenacity of a monk chanting scripture to the death, launched into his lecture.
Inside the room, Tao Yao kept the same posture as before, muttering numbers under her breath, occasionally tapping a finger.
“Let’s make a bet—see how long it takes Gungun to eat every last chicken in this house.” Young Master Liu set the things down on the table while looking out the window. “Getting a fox to stop eating chickens… that’s a hundred times harder than getting someone to admit you’re a beauty.”
“Shut up.” Tao Yao didn’t even turn around. “Don’t bother me, I’m counting.”
Young Master Liu walked up behind her and looked left and right. “Counting what? How much money’s left? Don’t tell me there’s not a single coin!”
“There’s been no money for ages.” Her eyes didn’t even flick. “I’m counting up to Feifei—how many kinds of demons I’ve treated in total.”
“How many kinds of demons?” Young Master Liu snorted coldly. “You really are bored enough to grow moss.”
“None of your business.” Tao Yao pursed her lips. “The kitchen is what you should be worrying about. When are you ever going to cook something fit for humans to eat?!”
“I’m not human, why should I care what you humans eat!” Young Master Liu sat down unconcerned, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Speaking of worrying, shouldn’t your biggest worry be the Compendium of a Hundred Demons?”
The moment she heard those words, Tao Yao couldn’t help but shudder, and quickly spun around making a shushing gesture. “Keep your voice down! From now on, don’t say Compendium of a Hundred Demons out loud—just call it ‘that thing’!”
“Fine, ‘that thing’ it is. It’s been a while since we came to the capital—any leads?” Young Master Liu sipped his tea, frowning. “You don’t need me to remind you how important that thing is. But looking at you, you’re not the least bit anxious—every day it’s nothing but eating, drinking, and having fun. Could it be you’ve already resigned yourself to being killed by that person, and you’re just trying to enjoy your last days to the fullest?”
Tao Yao shuddered again, turned around slowly, and trudged over to Young Master Liu looking utterly dejected. She bent down and pointed at her own eyes. “See this?”
Young Master Liu leaned in to look closely. “What? Eye gunk?”
“Dark circles!” Tao Yao yelled. “You can’t see how huge these dark circles are?! Do you know I can’t sleep at night from all the worrying?!”
“So that’s why you snore so loudly even when you can’t sleep.” Young Master Liu chuckled.
“Ugh, my body’s asleep, but my soul is still thinking hard.” Tao Yao patted his shoulder mournfully, then walked back to the window to resume staring blankly. “I haven’t got the faintest clue.”
A few tattered dead leaves drifted into the courtyard on the autumn wind, settling dejectedly to the ground.
“It’s just one book—how hard can that be for the great Ghost Doctor of Tao Capital?” Young Master Liu took a sip of tea. “The Tao Yao I know is as cunning as an old fox.”
“Just one book?” Tao Yao smiled faintly. “Once it leaves Tao Capital, it might not even be a book anymore.”
Young Master Liu blinked. “What do you mean?”
Tao Yao turned, pointed at the cup in his hand, then at the window. “Your teacup, the fallen leaf that just blew in, even the chicken Gungun’s been trying to steal, or anyone walking down the street—any of them could be ‘that thing.'”
Young Master Liu frowned.
“Once it’s outside the borders of Tao Capital, that thing has no restraints left. It can keep being a book, or it can become anything it wishes.” Tao Yao’s playful expression fell away, and the corner of her mouth curved. “The Compendium of a Hundred Demons is, itself, a demon.”
Young Master Liu was silent for a moment, then set down his cup. “I don’t know much about that thing, but if you’re saying this much, you must be in real trouble.”
“No rush.” She smiled and turned to look up at the layered gray clouds. “There’s no shortage of opportunity—or luck—right under the Emperor’s feet. Maybe I’ll just happen to run into it.”
“That thing is in the capital?” Young Master Liu’s eyes lit up. “You wouldn’t settle down here for no reason.”
“I don’t actually know where it is.” Tao Yao stuck out her tongue. “All I know is, anything that’s been trapped somewhere too long tends to head straight for the liveliest place once it’s free. We’ve still got plenty of time—let’s just think it through slowly.”
“Fine.” Young Master Liu stood. “But I’ll remind you again—staying in the capital is fine, but not earning money isn’t. I don’t care whether you set up a street stall or wait tables, but living in the human world means playing by human rules. You’ve already blown through my money buying chickens and ducks, and if you keep being lazy and useless, we won’t even be able to pay rent next month!”
“But I don’t know what I’m good at!” Tao Yao scratched her head, troubled.
“You’re a doctor!” Young Master Liu rapped her forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re hoping to become a cook!”
Tao Yao covered her forehead, aggrieved. “But I only treat demons, not people!”
“You can charge demons money too!” He kept rapping her head.
“No way!” She pouted. “They’re already having to take my medicine, how could I charge them extra on top of that—that’s just not decent!”
“Since when are you this decent? What about Ye Fengjun then! That guy’s made a fortune selling paper—aren’t you going to ask for a cut? All that paper gets burned as offerings to you!”
“You don’t talk about money with friends.” She said this with righteous conviction. “His life isn’t easy either.”
“Have you got a fever?” Young Master Liu said coldly. “Is our life easy?”
“Then… how about you just give me whatever money you’ve got left, and I’ll take it to the gambling den and try my luck! I know you’ve got a secret stash hidden somewhere!”
“Give up on that idea. I’ll have you know, every bit of the vegetables I bought today was bought on credit! I’m counting on you to earn money to pay off the debt!”
“No fair, I’m so delicate! Not like Young Master Liu, strong and multi-talented—go out and take on ten or twenty jobs, and the capital’s next great fortune will be you, you, definitely you!”
“Bah! You’re just lazy!” Young Master Liu looked ready to hurl the vegetables in his hand at her face. “I don’t care—if you’re still lounging around tomorrow, I’ll find some way to let that person know you’ve lost that thing. Then you won’t have to worry about earning money anymore, since you won’t have any chances left to spend it.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Heh, is there anything I, Young Master Liu, wouldn’t dare do? Want to test it?”
“Fine!” Tao Yao pointed furiously at his nose, then deflated, lowering her head. “I’ll go find work tomorrow…”
“Good girl. That’s more like it.” Young Master Liu smiled and patted her head. “As a reward for seeing the error of your ways, I’ll make sweet and sour fish tonight.”
“Even rats won’t eat your fish…”
“I’ve improved. You’ll see tonight.” Young Master Liu patted his chest confidently, then added, “While I was out buying vegetables at the market, I saw an inn called Listening Wind Tower with quite a few hiring notices posted—lots of people looking for work there. You should go check it out. I’ve got high hopes for you!”
“Oh…”
Tao Yao sighed heavily, fidgeting with her braid. Well, going out to work was going out to work—it might actually be sort of fun to think about. Young Master Liu was right; now that she’d settled in human territory, she had to live by the local rules. Really, with her abilities, it wouldn’t be too hard to use some unusual means to scrounge up some gold and silver—but still, maybe the feeling of earning it through honest labor would be better?
Fine, decided then…
It took quite some effort for Tao Yao to squeeze her way out through the crowded streets.
The capital’s prosperity was everywhere—even the crowds fighting for a meal were packed three layers deep. Listening Wind Tower was one of the older inns near the Donghua Gate district; not only did merchants and travelers pass through constantly, doing brisk business, but the inn also traded in all sorts of information. Whoever wanted to hire workers only had to pay a small fee to have a placard hung in a prominent spot on the tavern’s main hall wall, and within a few days people would show up—very convenient. The innkeeper profited handsomely from this side business while also boosting foot traffic, a win-win, with customers pouring in daily.
Today the crowd at Listening Wind Tower was especially large—nearly everyone was studying the newly hung placards, looking for a good employer to choose.
Tao Yao finally squeezed her way to the front row and scanned the red-and-black wooden placards hanging on the wall one by one. There were postings looking for cooks and laundry women, masons for laying brick and building walls, accountants—all sorts, a bit of everything—but none seemed to suit her.
“Huh, the Si household is hiring too?”
“Yeah, it’s rare to see them post a notice here.”
“Should we try it?”
“No thanks. They say working for the Si household is rough. Those two brothers from the Si family aren’t exactly pushovers—that ‘Living King of Hell’ nickname isn’t just for show. I’d rather take a job with lower pay than go looking for trouble at the Si household.”
“Fair enough. Let’s look elsewhere.”
The murmuring of the people nearby caught Tao Yao’s attention. She pricked up her ears and listened for a while, then followed their pointing fingers to a placard tucked in the most unremarkable corner—”Si Household Seeking One Servant, Male or Female, Skilled Caretakers Preferred, Generous Compensation. Interested Parties May Inquire With Steward Miao at the Si Residence by Clear Dream River.”
She observed further and noticed that the people around her, all looking for work like she was, seemed to be wary of this particular employer. Aside from the few who’d been murmuring, everyone else shook their heads after glancing at the placard and looked elsewhere.
“Uncle, what kind of place is that Si household? Why does no one seem willing to work there?” she asked the middle-aged man beside her.
The man sized her up. “Little lass, you’re not from around here, are you?”
“Just arrived not long ago.” Tao Yao smiled cheekily. “My pockets are empty, so I’m hoping to find a good position.”
“Then I’d advise you to pick another household.” The man frowned. “The Si residence is no good place—not suitable for a girl fresh off the boat like you. Better to look for sweeping or dishwashing work elsewhere.”
“Not a good place?” Tao Yao’s eyes widened. “Do they eat people?”
“Heh, with two Living Kings of Hell in the house, you tell me if it’s a good place.” The man shook his head. “The Si household is run by two brothers, and word is their business isn’t exactly aboveboard. All sorts of blade-licking underworld types are always coming and going from that residence—quite frightening.”
“Two Living Kings of Hell?” Tao Yao suddenly perked up with interest. “So what exactly does this Si household do?”
“Nobody really knows for sure. Anyway, whenever people in the underworld have some dispute they can’t settle, they go to them, and naturally that involves plenty of fighting and killing. Yet somehow the Si brothers have some kind of backing, because even the authorities are wary of them and rarely make trouble for them.” The man clicked his tongue. “Anyway, little lass, I’d advise you not to set your sights on that place. Think about it—feuds in the underworld are the scariest thing. You never know which day some enemy might show up and drag innocent bystanders down with them.”
Tao Yao nodded, then asked, “Do they have money?”
“They’re a wealthy household, all right.” the man said.
“Well, that puts my mind at ease.” Tao Yao patted her chest. “So where’s this Clear Dream River, then?”
“What? You’re actually going?” The man’s eyes went wide.
“Uncle, I’m dirt poor!” Tao Yao gave him a pitiful look. “My brother treats me terribly—won’t feed me, won’t clothe me, and says if I don’t find work today he’ll throw me out of the house!”
“Well…” The man hesitated. “Head out through Wansheng Gate, then walk about seven or eight li west. You’ll see a boundary marker carved with ‘Clear Dream River,’ then cross a stone bridge, pass through a bamboo grove, and you’ll find the Si residence.”
“Thank you so much!” Tao Yao turned and left.
The man sighed behind her. “Kids these days—chasing money without a care for their lives.”
Tao Yao, of course, didn’t hear this. She was already calculating that this servant position didn’t sound bad at all, especially that line about “skilled caretakers preferred”—so were they short on someone to raise horses or feed pigs? Come to think of it, aside from treating illness, wasn’t “caretaking” exactly what she was best at? Mo Ya was living proof—look how well she’d raised him. Aside from not growing any taller, he was doing fine in every other respect.
This was the one! She trotted off toward her destination, full of joy.
The Si residence was quite far off… She found the boundary marker, crossed a weathered old stone bridge, passed through a quiet bamboo grove, and by the time she stood outside the vermillion-gated, gray-walled estate, it was already dusk. The residence before her, though enormous, showed no sign of activity from within, and there was no one in sight outside either—only the rustle of the bamboo grove behind her.
She grabbed the door knocker and rapped several times. Before long, someone came to answer.
“Who goes there?” A man’s voice came from behind the still-closed door.
“I’ve come to see Steward Miao. I saw your household’s notice for a servant at Listening Wind Tower and came specially to apply,” Tao Yao called out loudly.
The door creaked open. A man in his forties, in scholar’s cap and cloth robe, thin and refined-looking, looked her up and down. “I am Steward Miao. You’ve come to apply for the servant position, miss?”
Tao Yao nodded vigorously. “Didn’t it say male or female both welcome?”
Steward Miao smiled. “That’s right. Please, come in.”
The Si residence was probably the grandest estate she’d seen since leaving Tao Capital… At a glance, it was impossible to even guess how large it was—towers and pavilions layered impressively, flower gardens and covered walkways as lovely as a painted scroll. This put her mind at ease—a household like this, even a stray hair from them would be worth more than a common family’s whole leg!
The only thing slightly off was how few people there were. Along the way, she’d only spotted one or two young servants here and there sweeping fallen leaves, far fewer than the scale of the place would suggest.
Steward Miao simply led the way forward without much conversation. They walked all the way to an absurdly spacious back courtyard, where she was greeted by the sight of several fine horses pacing within a wooden fence, chewing grass, with more horses of unknown number stabled behind them. A wooden hut stood closest to the stables, and someone was carrying a wooden bucket out toward the feeding trough.
Truly a wealthy household—to keep an actual ranch within such a grand estate. Horses weren’t like chickens and ducks; only someone with real money and land could afford to raise them, and raise them well! Though Tao Yao wasn’t very knowledgeable about horses, just from the sturdy build and glossy coats of these animals, she could tell whoever fed them knew their trade.
Steward Miao stopped in front of the feeding trough and called out, “San Si!”
The figure busy pouring feed into the trough turned around—a girl of about sixteen or seventeen, her clothes the same color as the mud on the ground, filthy, her disheveled hair carelessly bundled into a bun atop her head. Fortunately her face was fair and delicate enough that one could tell she was a girl.
“Where’s your father?” Steward Miao asked.
The girl made two “ah, ah” sounds, set down the wooden bucket, and began gesturing.
“Gone out to buy things?” Steward Miao nodded. “All right, go on with your work.”
The girl picked the bucket back up, but before turning away, she glanced twice at Tao Yao standing behind Steward Miao.
“This is our Si household’s stable grounds—housing all the fine horses our young master has gathered from every corner of the land. The servant position we’re hiring for is mainly to feed and care for the horses.” As Steward Miao spoke, he suddenly turned back with a smile. “I’ve been so caught up talking, I haven’t even asked your name, age, and where you’re from, miss.”
Tao Yao’s eyes darted about. “My surname is Tao—Tao like peach. My name… Yaoyao. Nearly seventeen this year, from Shu, planning to settle in the capital for the long term.”
“Tao Yaoyao?” Steward Miao smiled. “So Miss Tao must be the youngest child in her family?”
“Yes, yes.” Tao Yao brushed past the question, then pointed at the horses. “Your household’s servant position is just for feeding horses?”
“That’s right.” Steward Miao nodded. “But don’t underestimate this position. These horses are all treasures to our young master—they must be cared for meticulously, without the slightest error. It’s only because the servant who’d been in charge is resigning to return to her hometown that we posted the notice at Listening Wind Tower, hoping to find someone reliable to continue looking after the horses.”
Tao Yao tilted her chin toward the girl’s retreating back. “So this young lady’s been taking care of the horses? She looks quite young.”
“Previously it was the Ding family, father and daughter, who looked after them—they’ve been at the Si residence for over ten years. Now that they say they’re leaving, I confess I’m quite reluctant to let them go, but old man Ding has arranged a good marriage for his daughter back home, and he himself says he wants to return to his roots, so we couldn’t very well insist they stay.” Steward Miao watched the girl. “Her name is San Si—a year older than you, a diligent child. In all these years, not a single horse raised under their care has ever had any trouble.”
“Ding San Si…” Tao Yao covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Giving a girl a name like that was practically cruel. She held back her laughter and put on a serious expression. “Steward Miao, after telling me all this, does that mean you’ve decided to take me on?”
Steward Miao smiled. “Our notice has been up for three or four days now, and you’re the only one who’s come to apply. Whether I want to or not, I’ll have to choose you.”
“Really, I’m the only one who’s come?” Tao Yao feigned surprise.
“Probably everyone else is afraid of our young master,” Steward Miao said with a light laugh. “Miss Tao, if you’ve decided you’re willing to work here, we can sign the contract shortly. Our young master is never stingy when it comes to wages—you needn’t worry about that.”
“Why is everyone afraid of your young master?” Tao Yao asked, puzzled.
“His temper isn’t the best, I suppose,” Steward Miao said with a smile. “But you needn’t worry about that either—you won’t have many chances to cross paths with the young master in your daily work.”
Tao Yao thought about it, then grinned. “So, just wondering—how much does the position pay?”
Steward Miao named a figure.
Tao Yao’s eyes immediately lit up, and she nodded like a chicken pecking rice. “Deal, deal! I’ll take the horse-feeding job!”
“Very good.” Steward Miao continued, “Per our household’s custom, we’ll start with a six-month trial. If both sides are satisfied by then, we’ll sign a longer-term contract, with wages adjusted accordingly. Please wait here a moment, Miss Tao, while I fetch the paperwork—just need your thumbprint, and it’ll be settled.”
“That’s all it takes?” Tao Yao was delighted. “I got the job just like that?”
“Just like that,” Steward Miao said with a smile. “Afterward, once old man Ding returns, he and his daughter will explain your daily duties. They plan to leave at the start of next month, so you’ll have about twenty days to learn from them.”
“Wonderful, wonderful. Please, go ahead.”
Watching Steward Miao leave, Tao Yao couldn’t stop smiling. Finding a decent job had turned out to be much easier than she’d imagined—and this household was so straightforward too, just asking her name and age before taking her on, with such generous pay besides. Weren’t they worried she might be some fugitive or assassin on the run?
Once Steward Miao left, it was just her and the girl called Ding San Si. She walked over to the girl’s side and watched her expertly adding feed to the trough.
“San Si, hello, I’m Tao Yaoyao. Nice to meet you—I hope you’ll guide me from now on.” As soon as she said this, she remembered the girl was mute—deaf-mute types were common enough that she probably couldn’t hear a word.
But Ding San Si stopped what she was doing, wiped her hands on her clothes, then grabbed Tao Yao’s hand and pulled her over to a big tree by the stables. She picked up a twig, pulled Tao Yao down to crouch with her, and wrote on the ground with the twig: “Call me San Si from now on, not miss. I’ll teach you to feed the horses.”
So she could hear after all.
“All right, San Si.” Tao Yao smiled warmly at her. San Si looked pleased, a simple joy in her eyes at having found a friend.
“Is it just you and your father here usually?” Tao Yao asked.
San Si nodded.
“There really aren’t many people at the Si residence,” she added.
San Si nodded again.
“How long have you been here?”
San Si held up ten fingers.
Tao Yao looked surprised. “Ten years! So you started working here when you were seven or eight?”
She nodded.
“Aside from feeding the horses, do you ever go out and have fun?” Tao Yao asked casually. “This place is so big and there are so few people—it must get lonely.”
She shook her head, then wrote on the ground: “Must watch the horses well, or the young master will be unhappy.”
“You don’t need to guard them every single minute, do you?” Tao Yao pouted. “Your young master sounds quite unreasonable.”
She waved her hands hurriedly and wrote: “Young master is very good. Young master has few friends. He likes horses.”
“Your young master has few friends, so he treats the horses like friends?” Tao Yao scratched her head. “Steward Miao said his temper isn’t great, so having few friends makes sense…”
San Si smiled awkwardly, faint flushes of red appearing on her cheeks.
Blushing? Now this was interesting…
That look of maidenly infatuation, of course, didn’t escape Tao Yao’s notice, and it made her all the more curious about this yet-unseen young master of the Si household.
Tao Yao was about to ask more about the young master when an old man arrived at the stable grounds carrying a large bundle, interrupting them. Seeing him, San Si immediately stood and rushed over to greet him.
“Got you a few new outfits,” the old man said cheerfully to his daughter. “Go try them on when we’re back, see if they suit you.”
San Si pointed at Tao Yao and made a series of gestures to her father.
“So this is the one?” Old Man Ding sized Tao Yao up. “Not bad, doesn’t look stupid—just a bit young.”
The old man really didn’t know how to speak nicely, Tao Yao thought with an inward huff, but stood up to greet him anyway. “You must be Uncle Ding, I’m Tao Yaoyao. I’ll be working here from now on—please guide me too.”
Just then, Steward Miao returned, a stack of documents in hand, walking over to look at the three of them. “All introduced, I see, good, good, no need for me to say more.” He then turned to Old Man Ding. “Miss Tao will be in your care from now on. I hope she’ll be fully familiar with everything before you leave.”
Then came the signing of the contract and the thumbprint. Per the contract terms: ten days of work for one day off, three meals provided, and unless there was a special reason, she was not to leave the Si residence freely. Steward Miao led Tao Yao to a nearby wooden cottage, saying she would temporarily share a room with San Si.
Everything seemed to have gone remarkably smoothly. In a single day, she’d not only found paying work but also no longer had to live in that ramshackle house or eat Young Master Liu’s cooking—life had suddenly brightened!
Tao Yao arranged with Steward Miao to go home, pack her things, and officially start work as a Si household servant the next morning. By the time she was ready to leave, the sky had nearly gone dark. She said goodbye to the Ding family, and Steward Miao politely saw her out.
Just as she was about to leave the stable grounds, something small and white flashed at the edge of her vision.
She turned to look. A few meters beyond the wooden fence, there was something the size of a baby chick on the ground—round, like a dumpling covered in white fluff, its bean-sized eyes blinking rapidly, a pair of little bird-claw feet stomping angrily with every step, and wings on its body—though only one, on the right side—while it hauled half a broken chopstick that it had found from who knew where, marching furiously toward the big tree by the stable grounds.
A demon, Tao Yao thought, watching it.
It seemed to sense someone watching too, and stopped, looking up at Tao Yao.
Just a minor, unremarkable little demon—not worth the trouble. Tao Yao looked away, pretending she’d seen nothing, and walked off humming a little tune.
The little demon, likewise, carried on as if nothing had happened, continuing its furious march.
Tao Yao reminded herself that she was just an ordinary servant now, not any sort of important demon—better to just pass by without a second glance.
The next morning, Tao Yao showed up promptly in front of Steward Miao.
Only, right as she’d been leaving that morning, she’d nearly been disgusted to death. Young Master Liu, Mo Ya, and Gungun—the three of them lined up pathetically by the door like beggars, Young Master Liu waving a dish towel, putting on an exaggerated, coy performance as he called out: “From now on, this whole family’s livelihood depends on you, husband! Be sure to earn lots of money, and remember to come home on time to pay the rent! We’ll be thinking of you in our hearts… and your wages!”
A shameless old demon like that really deserved to be struck dead by the Thunder God…
Still, not having to look at those three beggar housemates for a while was something to look forward to.
Her first day as a servant passed quickly. Steward Miao personally took her on a tour around the Si residence, pointing out where the eldest young master lived, where the second young master lived, where the kitchen was, where the storage rooms were, which areas she could go and which she couldn’t, explaining everything in meticulous detail.
However, Tao Yao didn’t get to see either of the two young masters. Steward Miao said the eldest young master was out on business, while the second young master was reserved by nature and disliked meeting people, usually reading in some quiet spot, and was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.
Over the following days, Tao Yao was so busy she barely had time to use the outhouse. She’d assumed feeding horses would be simple, but it turned out there was far more to it than she’d expected. Old Man Ding lectured her endlessly every day, making her memorize each horse’s name, temperament, and preferences—who liked dry fodder, who needed honey mixed into their feed, who needed a bit of salt added, who liked their food cold, who liked it warm… could these even still be called livestock? They were practically pampered little lords! There was so much to remember that she had to keep a little notebook, jotting things down and reviewing it whenever she had a spare moment. Getting rich through honest labor was proving to be quite difficult indeed…
Meanwhile, Ding San Si treated her like a true sister. Whenever Tao Yao didn’t understand something, San Si would carefully write out explanations for her. At night, worried she’d be cold, San Si would put her own warming flask into Tao Yao’s bedding early. During the day, when there was free time, she’d take Tao Yao to the kitchen to find snacks. This girl had probably never had a friend her own age at the Si residence before, so she treated Tao Yao with boundless warmth. It was just a shame she was mute—otherwise, she seemed exactly the type who’d lie head-to-head with a close friend in bed, whispering girlish secrets by the light of the moon through the window.
Though she’d only known her a few days, Tao Yao could tell that this girl, Ding San Si, definitely had something on her mind.
She was secretly watching someone!
It had been happening every day these past few days—as sunset approached, she’d sneak off to a place west of the Si residence called “Wangyuan,” Garden of Vain Hope. It was really just a walled enclosure, its walls covered in green moss, wildflowers scattered here and there, a few stalks of green bamboo poking out over the wall, occasionally dropping a bamboo leaf.
She never dared go inside, even though the gate to Wangyuan was never locked. She only dared to sneak a few stones together outside the wall to stand on, peeking her eyes over the top of the wall, holding her breath as she looked in.
So yesterday, when Tao Yao had silently walked up behind her and tugged her clothes, she’d nearly fallen off in fright.
Fortunately, the person inside the walls hadn’t been disturbed, still sitting composed at the stone table, a cup of tea and a book in hand.
Now there were two pairs of eyes peeking over the wall.
Tao Yao had always had sharp eyesight, and she could see that the man—dressed in the standard fashion of a noble young master, hair bound with a jade hairpin, hanging past his shoulders—held a copy of Sun Tzu’s Art of War in his hands. But to say his face was merely handsome as fine jade wouldn’t quite do him justice—what would catch your attention wasn’t just a pleasant-to-look-at face, but the way his entire presence, once it entered your field of vision, made you marvel that the phrase “unmoving as a mountain” could be embodied so perfectly by a living man in his twenties. It was as if time itself had settled still around him; facing a man like this, you felt that even speaking too loudly would somehow be an offense.
Fortunately, the Si residence had few people, and Wangyuan at dusk saw even less traffic—otherwise, the two figures “hanging” off the wall wouldn’t have been able to peek so freely and happily.
This man really was a feast for the eyes—even the way he turned pages and sipped tea looked exceptionally elegant. No wonder Ding San Si hung around here every single day!
Not until the sun had nearly set completely did the man set down his book and rub his forehead, at which point Ding San Si hastily pulled Tao Yao down, hurriedly moved the footstool aside, and dashed off before the man could emerge.
There was no need to guess who this was—since the eldest young master was out on business, this could only be the second young master.
In front of the stables, Ding San Si’s face was still flushed rosy, her mind clearly elsewhere as she absentmindedly added fodder to the trough. The horses munched away happily, not caring in the least what was on the mind of the person feeding them.
Tao Yao nudged her playfully. “The second young master’s quite handsome.”
She bit her lip, glaring at Tao Yao reproachfully, though the smile at the corners of her mouth was impossible to hide.
“Thanks to you, I finally got to see our household’s second-in-command.” Tao Yao grinned mischievously. “You like him?”
She looked as though she’d been struck by something, tossing the fodder aside and rushing to cover Tao Yao’s mouth without even bothering to wipe her hands.
Tao Yao dodged away, laughing. “So what if you like him? It’s not anything shameful.”
She grew flustered and anxious, gesturing frantically for her to never speak of this again.
“Fine, fine, I won’t say anything.” Tao Yao stuck out her tongue, then added, “A man like that—anyone who sees him would be smitten. What’s your young master’s name again?”
She looked left and right, and once she’d confirmed there was nothing but horses around them, crouched down and wrote two characters in the soft dirt with her finger—the neatest two characters she’d probably ever written.
“Si Kuanglan?” Tao Yao burst out laughing. “The name doesn’t suit him at all—he’s practically as expressive as a rock.”
But she just kept staring at that name on the ground, blushing.
Unable to get close to him, yet even just writing his name filled her with an unstoppable sweetness. Even just two characters seemed to give her longing somewhere to rest. This must be what it looked like when a shy person fell for someone—afraid of being found out, yet hoping to be.
The secret of watching the second young master had once been Ding San Si’s alone; now it belonged to the two of them. From then on, Tao Yao went to help her move stones outside Wangyuan every evening.
It seemed this second young master really didn’t like meeting people—in all her time at the Si residence, she’d never once seen him anywhere but Wangyuan. Ding San Si told her the second young master spent time drinking tea and reading there at a fixed hour every day, a habit he’d kept for many years now.
“But is just watching him from afar enough?” one night, Tao Yao asked, sitting on the fence with her, legs swinging as they looked up at the sparse stars.
She nodded.
“You should tell the second young master—if you just keep watching like this, he’ll never know how you feel,” Tao Yao said.
She shook her head firmly, pulled Tao Yao’s hand over, and wrote in her palm: “Not worthy.”
Tao Yao paused, then said, “At least let him know somehow.”
She smiled again and continued writing in her palm: “I’m leaving. Getting married.”
Right—Steward Miao had mentioned her father had arranged a good match for her back home. Once she left, she’d become someone’s wife, with no chance of return.
“That person back home—is he good?” Tao Yao asked again.
She nodded, her face showing no reluctance at all—it seemed to be the truth.
“That’s good then.” Tao Yao looked up at the night sky and said nothing more.
She was skilled at treating demons, but she truly had no good way to bring a girl like Ding San Si and a man like the second young master together.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing either. Just being someone who was watched from afar, without more, wouldn’t leave her with any painful memories.
After that, the two of them silently agreed to never mention it again.
Time passed quickly, and before long she’d been at the Si residence for over half a month. Her experience with feeding horses had grown considerably, her work becoming more practiced, and she could now name every single horse on the grounds. The Ding family, father and daughter, both praised her cleverness. She went home once—Young Master Liu’s cooking showed no improvement whatsoever, and Mo Ya was still lecturing the unrepentant Gungun about not coveting chickens. Somehow the Si residence felt much more peaceful, and their cook made such delicious food! She was almost worried she wouldn’t want to leave eventually.
Steward Miao occasionally came by the stable grounds to check in, each time saying he hadn’t chosen wrong—he could rest easy leaving the horses in Tao Yao’s care. As for the eldest young master, he still hadn’t returned, and the second young master continued living like a ghost.
Anyway, on the surface at least, everyone at the Si residence seemed to be living comfortably and smoothly—everyone except that one demon.
Tao Yao had discovered, on her second day at the Si residence, that this white-furred, winged little oddity’s nest was in the big tree by the wooden cottage. It was permanently missing one wing, and every day it seemed to go about in a state of fury.
She continued to pretend she couldn’t see it, but secretly kept tabs on its comings and goings. This creature would come down from the tree first thing every morning, always shouldering some object it regarded as a weapon—sometimes half a chopstick, sometimes a sharp little stone, once even an ear-pick—and would return only at dusk, sometimes with its weapon in hand, but more often empty-handed, and always came back injured. Judging by its disheveled fur and the grime stuck to its body, this little demon was almost certainly getting beaten up. And yet it went out to get beaten up again, day after day, without fail…
Finally, on the seventeenth night of pretending not to see it, once the Ding family had gone to sleep, she went out, pretending to take a stroll, and wandered under the tree. Leaning against the trunk, she said as if to herself, “Do you enjoy getting beaten up?”
A moment later, a low voice came from within the tree trunk: “What’s it to you?!”
“It’s not any of my business, really. If you like getting beaten, keep at it.” Tao Yao shrugged and straightened up. “Good night.”
“Hey!” the voice called out, stopping her. “You can actually see me?”
“Or did you think I was talking to a tree?” Tao Yao turned back, looking at the tree. “You Yun Yang types never change your habits, thousands of years and still living in trees wherever you go.”
A faint white light appeared on the branches, and a little white-furred creature, laboriously flapping its single wing, tumbled clumsily down to land in front of her, asking in astonishment, “You actually know me? Who are you?”
“Me? My surname is Tao.” Tao Yao crouched down, smiling at it.
“Tao…” It suddenly spotted the golden bell tied at her wrist and grew instantly excited. “You’re from Tao Capital, the Tao—”
“Shh!” Tao Yao quickly hushed it. “Don’t wake the sleeping people!”
It wriggled out from under her hand and said urgently, “Help me get my wing back! I desperately need my other wing!”
“Tell me where your wing went first,” Tao Yao asked curiously.
It fidgeted for a while, and only after working up its resolve did it say quietly, “Come autumn, we Yun Yang shed like trees do. You know how it is—not just fur falls out, bones break easily too…”
Tao Yao nodded. “I know that much. The question is, how did you lose an entire wing?”
It hesitated for a good while before saying, embarrassed, “I thought I was getting a bit fat… so I made myself fly ten laps around the stable grounds every day. That day I flew too hard, and one wing came right off…”
Tao Yao covered her mouth, laughing helplessly.
“You’re a doctor—is it appropriate to mock your patient?!” it demanded, stamping its foot in frustration.
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop laughing.” Tao Yao let go, putting on a serious face. “So where did your wing go?”
“A rat demon snatched it away!” it said furiously. “Well, not quite a full demon yet—it’s cultivated for a few decades, almost there. It stole my wing to build its nest with, and it won’t give it back. So I go pick a fight with it every day!”
Tao Yao couldn’t help laughing again. “Are you picking a fight with it, or delivering yourself for a beating? Hahaha.”
“If I hadn’t lost a wing and weakened my demonic power, it wouldn’t stand a chance against me!” it fumed, hopping around.
“That’s exactly what confuses me more,” Tao Yao said, watching it with a smile. “You Yun Yang, though minor demons, have very strong self-healing abilities. Autumn is your weak season, sure, but even losing a wing—by next spring you’d grow a new one. Why the rush to fight a rat now?”
“Next spring will be too late.” It stopped, and said seriously, “If I don’t get my wing back by the start of next month, Ding San Si will never have the chance to speak to the second young master.”
“You’re rushing to get your wing back for her sake?” Tao Yao found this strange.
“I followed her here.” It sighed. “She’s been here ten years, and so have I.”
Today there was thunder and rain again.
This was probably the worst autumn it had experienced since moving to this tree—why did there have to be thunder in autumn too?! It was terrified of thunder above all else, because every time it thundered, some demon somewhere was bound to have terrible luck. It had once personally seen a huge snake demon struck dead, its body reduced to charcoal, wedged between rocks and still smoking—so frightening! It had heard this was the Thunder God of the heavens “cleansing” the mortal realm of demons that shouldn’t exist.
Being a demon really wasn’t easy! It was scared half to death, not daring to stay in the tree, but this mountain was nothing but trees—there was nowhere to hide that wouldn’t risk getting struck, and to make matters worse, it had also gotten sick. Autumn was already the weakest season for a Yun Yang; a bit of rain and it would come down with a headache, fever, and sneezing.
What to do? Maybe go hide in the cave to the west? But that was so far away… Just as it was hesitating under the tree about whether to go there, an oil-paper umbrella appeared on the mountain path ahead. A small figure, a bamboo basket on her back, carried the umbrella carefully as she walked.
It was a girl of six or seven. It hid behind the tree, watching her pass by, and its attention was suddenly drawn to the bamboo basket on her back. It had heard some elderly demons say that when heavenly thunder came to purge demons, even demons who weren’t the Thunder God’s actual target could be caught up in the strike by sheer bad luck—the best solution was to find a human and hide as close to them as possible, borrowing their human aura to avoid the thunder. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was some measure of protection.
No time to worry about anything else—running into a human in these deep mountains wasn’t easy to begin with. It steeled its resolve, darted up, and quietly slipped into the girl’s basket, fortunately landing among some mountain fruits and small toys children liked to play with, which wasn’t too uncomfortable to be squeezed among.
The rain grew heavier. The girl remained silent the entire way, not making a single sound, until she finally stopped at a clearing amid a bamboo grove.
A grave stood in the clearing. She carefully cleared away the weeds around it, then set down her basket and took out the fruits and toys one by one, placing them before the grave. Though the girl couldn’t see it, it still carefully dodged out of the way of her hands.
Through the gaps in the basket, it saw the name and dates on the gravestone—guessing it was a girl, only five years old. Probably her younger sister, or a childhood friend.
She stood before the grave for quite a while, making “ah, ah” sounds and gesturing with motions it couldn’t understand.
So she was mute.
Finally, she made a farewell gesture toward the grave and picked up her basket to head back.
With nothing left to fill the space, it sat alone in the now-empty basket, and to its relief, the thunder gradually faded and the rain stopped, though a cold wind crept in through the gaps, making it sneeze twice in a row.
Just then, it suddenly felt the basket stop moving, being set down on the ground. It looked up and found itself staring right into her face as she peered inside—startled at first, but then relaxing. Go ahead, look all you want—a mortal like you shouldn’t be able to see a demon like me.
Her expression clearly showed surprise, and she made an “ah” sound, her finger pointing precisely at the little creature curled in the corner of the basket.
That wasn’t right—could she actually see it? Its heart lurched, and it froze, not daring to move a muscle.
Her hand reached in! She cradled it in her palm! She held it up in front of her face!
It trembled with fright, wanting to fly away but with no strength left, thinking that if she meant it harm, it would leap to the ground and grab a rock to throw at her! After all, that was about the only combat capability it had left…
She stared at it for a long while, then finally set it down on a rock by the roadside, took out a handkerchief from her clothing, and covered it with it.
It sat there stiffly, unable to understand why she could see it, and even less why she was doing all this. If she really could see it, wasn’t the normal reaction supposed to be screaming and running away, or grabbing a rock to smash it to death…
She turned to leave, but after a few steps, glancing at the sky still thick with clouds, she seemed uneasy and turned back, reopening her umbrella and planting it firmly by the rock, positioned just right to shelter it.
Only once her figure disappeared at the far end of the mountain path did it finally recover, letting out a long breath of relief—but curiosity was spreading rapidly through its mind.
Who exactly was this little girl?
A few days later, the sun—long absent—finally reappeared, and its cold symptoms had finally cleared up. It reasoned that it must have been sick that day, its demonic power too weak, which was why she’d managed to spot it by coincidence.
With nothing better to do, it wanted to see this mute little girl again.
After asking around among the various demons in the mountains, it learned there was a village at the foot of the mountain, and the person it sought should be there.
That morning, it left its familiar mountain forest for the first time, perching in a tree at the edge of a village, watching a father and daughter below busily loading their luggage onto a donkey cart.
There she was, still dressed shabbily as ever.
Villagers had come to see them off.
“Getting ready to head out?”
“Yes, just about.”
“It’s a long journey to the capital—take care on the road, the two of you. Do you have someone to meet you there?”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, a relative arranged a place for us long ago—raising horses for a wealthy household in the city.”
“That’s good then. Any cow or horse raised by your hands turns out fat and healthy! When will you be back again?”
“Hard to say. But we’ll definitely come back—this is home, after all.”
Anyway, when this father and daughter set off with their donkey cart toward the morning glow, leaving the village behind, it crouched among their luggage, and it was certain that neither of them could see it.
Following along with people this casually did seem somehow off, but it didn’t feel bothered by it. Though she could no longer see it, it was willing to keep watching over her. After all, no one had ever covered it with anything before, or held an umbrella over it. This feeling was rather nice.
And so, on an autumn morning ten years ago, a donkey cart carrying a father, a daughter, and a demon left the mountain village they’d long called home, heading unhurriedly toward the most prosperous capital in the land.
“Getting you to tag along was that easy, huh.” Tao Yao laughed. “Living in a tree in the capital versus living in a tree back in your hometown—any difference?”
“It’s noisier here, but still all right—I can still sleep,” it admitted honestly. “So, are you going to help me get my wing back or not?”
“Ten years, and Ding San Si never saw you again?” she asked.
“No.” It said this with certainty. “Every year that passes, I grow a bit stronger. I’ll never be seen by humans again due to weakness.”
“But you still got bullied by that rat demon,” she laughed.
It got angry again. “Are you just here to mock me?”
She dropped her smile and said seriously, “Getting your wing back isn’t hard, but you need to tell me exactly what you’re planning to do.”
“In a few days, she’s leaving.” It looked toward the small cottage in the night. “Perhaps never to return in this lifetime.”
“So what? You could keep following her, couldn’t you?”
“I won’t.” It shook its head. “Whether I’m by her side or not, her life will be the same either way. I want to be like the great demons too, with all sorts of abilities, but I can’t—I’m just a Yun Yang, and even after cultivating for another thousand years, I’ll still be like this, at most no longer catching colds.” It paused, then looked up. “I just want to give her a gift before she leaves. Consider it repaying the kindness she showed me back then.”
“A gift?” Tao Yao raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got no strength, no looks, no fortune—what could you possibly give her?”
“Give her a day where she can speak,” it said, grinning, not the least bit offended by her jab.
Tao Yao was struck silent for a moment.
“But besides the wing, could you help me with one more thing?” it asked.
Tao Yao raised an eyebrow. “You know I have rules about treating demons.”
“I know. I agree to them.”
Today, Tao Yao made up an excuse to keep Ding San Si busy at the stable grounds while she slipped off to Wangyuan.
No more climbing the wall this time—she poked her head sneakily through the half-open gate.
The second young master still sat in his usual spot, his back to her, turning pages and sipping tea.
She knocked lightly on the gate and called out, “Second Young Master!”
There was no response from inside—not even the slightest shift in posture.
She scratched her head. Even Tao Yao, who wasn’t afraid of demons, found herself hesitant to step through this gate—but she had no choice, she had to go in!
Steeling herself, she strode forward and stood before the second young master, putting on a smile. “Second Young Master, I’m the new servant, the one who feeds the horses. My surname is Tao.”
Seeing this man up close for the first time, his features were even more finely drawn than before, yet unlike those pampered, delicate noble young masters, there was a weathered quality that seemed at odds with his age and status—yet was somehow etched faintly into every line of his face.
His slender fingers turned another page, but he didn’t so much as lift an eyelid.
Though she badly wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him while shrieking, “Take a look at me, would you! I’m at least as good-looking as that book, you tasteless bastard,” she couldn’t—she was here on business.
She took a deep breath and, not caring what he might be thinking, spoke directly: “Second Young Master, the day after tomorrow, Ding San Si will be returning to her hometown to marry, and may never come back to the capital again. Tomorrow, she’s asked to meet you in the bamboo grove outside the front gate—she has something she wants to tell you.”
His gaze continued moving methodically along the text on the page, showing no sign whatsoever that he’d seen or heard her.
“There’s no other meaning to it, she just wants to talk with you.” When had the Ghost Doctor of Tao Capital ever suffered such a cold reception? Tao Yao suppressed the urge to slap him across the face, and turned to leave—but then turned back to look at that unmoved figure. “She’s been here ten years, and all she wants is one day. Whether you go or not is up to you, Second Young Master.”
By the time she walked out of Wangyuan, the man’s world still seemed to contain nothing but his book and his tea, as if no one had ever disturbed him at all.
Truly living up to his name of ill temper—hmph.
That night, Tao Yao watched Ding San Si busily packing her things in their room—this girl who had taught her countless lessons about raising horses would be leaving early tomorrow morning. Old Man Ding had bought a great many things to take back, saying most of it was for his daughter’s dowry.
“Tomorrow, I’ve arranged for you to meet the second young master in the bamboo grove outside the gate,” Tao Yao suddenly said.
The clothing she’d been holding immediately fell to the ground, forgotten, as she rushed toward Tao Yao, gesturing anxiously.
Tao Yao caught her hands. “Stop gesturing—your biggest wish has always been to chat with him in the bamboo grove, even if it’s just for a day, that would be enough. You once said the bamboo grove is at its most beautiful when the wind blows, because the leaves spiraling down are more stunning than snow.”
She froze, her face turning bright red, and even without speaking, Tao Yao could see the enormous question in her eyes.
“I found the notes you wrote at night and then threw away—I fished them out of the trash and read them,” Tao Yao said with a smile. “So I wanted to give you a gift.”
Her eyes went wide.
Tao Yao pulled her over to the window, having her take a deep breath of the vast night air outside.
“If I were you, the most important thing tonight wouldn’t be packing—it’d be thinking about what you’d want to say to him most, if you could speak.” Tao Yao patted her shoulder, smiling. “There’s so much in this world you can’t see or imagine—things you thought were impossible might just show up right in front of you one day.”
She remained astonished, grabbing Tao Yao’s hand, her expression urgently begging to be told what was going on.
“In a bit, I’ll give you a pill to take, and remember to head to the bamboo grove bright and early tomorrow,” Tao Yao said, sticking out her tongue. “And wash your face nice and clean.”
Outside the window, in the tree, a plump little creature glowing faintly white crouched on a branch, lazily watching the two girls inside, stretching as it flapped its wings.
At the break of dawn, a beam of white light entered the room and settled onto Ding San Si.
In the bamboo grove at daybreak, Ding San Si stood there nervously pinching her fingers, unable to sit down on the stone bench right beside her despite it clearly being there, turning around and around on the spot, occasionally pinching her own throat, trying to make sounds she’d never before dared imagine.
At this moment, Tao Yao sat at the entrance of the Si residence, the only path leading to the bamboo grove.
She’d decided that if Si Kuanglan hadn’t shown up within an hour, she’d have to go “invite” him herself—though she really didn’t relish the idea of possession.
The weather wasn’t great today; though it wasn’t raining, the sky remained gray throughout, as if hinting at some gloomy mood.
Time ticked by, and Tao Yao grew more disappointed by the minute. A young master was a young master, after all—he probably didn’t even know what Ding San Si’s name was or what she looked like. Expecting him to lower himself to fulfill the wish of some insignificant girl was probably just wishful thinking!
Forget it, time to go grab him.
She dusted off her clothes and stood, just about to push the gate open and head in, when the gate suddenly swung open on its own, and she stumbled, nearly crashing into the person walking out.
Si Kuanglan hadn’t bothered dressing up much today—just a casually thrown-on moon-white robe, hair unbound, simply tied back with a ribbon. And yet, even in such a disheveled state, he was still quite unlike the ordinary dandies one might see around town—perhaps it was how upright his posture was, or perhaps the coolness in his eyes, or perhaps his exceptional looks and height—but regardless, however he appeared, “keep away” seemed permanently written on his forehead.
He didn’t so much as glance at Tao Yao, walking straight toward the bamboo grove.
A mix of joy and anger—that was exactly how Tao Yao felt in that moment.
As for Ding San Si, her heart was filled with nothing but overwhelming delight as that man approached her unhurriedly.
“S-Second Young Master!” The moment she spoke, her face flushed even redder, her heart pounding wildly.
He stopped in front of her, looking at this girl a head shorter than himself, and said, “So you can speak after all.”
Whether this was simply how he always sounded or whether he’d deliberately softened his voice, it was worlds apart from his usual icy coldness.
Such a gentle tone was, to her, the greatest encouragement possible.
“Actually, this… I…” She didn’t know how to respond, her eyes darting about nervously.
“No need to explain, it doesn’t matter.” He sat down. “You sit too.”
She sat, not even daring to turn her head.
“Leaving tomorrow?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Going home to marry?”
She nodded.
“Is the family reliable?”
She nodded, saying, “He’s a neighbor I grew up playing with, an honest man. My father visited home last year, and his family came to propose—both families agreed at once.”
“Not the least bit unwilling?” he asked again. “If so, I can settle the matter for you.”
She quickly shook her head. “Absolutely not! Marrying him, I won’t be wronged at all.”
“Good. I’ll have Steward Miao prepare a small gift—between master and servant for so long, consider it a dowry gift from the Si family.” A hint of a smile touched his face.
She was overwhelmed. “This… this is too much! Second Young Master needn’t bother!”
“You know I always have the final say in my household,” he said, looking at her, an unspoken authority in his manner.
She pinched her fingers together and hastily stood to thank him.
“Since it was you who asked me here, no need to be so nervous.” He smiled slightly, stood, and looked around. “Let’s walk a while together. Autumn scenery may not match spring’s, but Clear Dream River’s view is still worth admiring.”
She froze.
“Not willing to walk with me?” He glanced back.
“I’ll go! I’ll go!” She nodded frantically and hurried to catch up.
In ten years at the Si residence, she’d never once carefully taken in this place called Clear Dream River—how wide the bamboo grove was, how long the stone bridge, how clear the water beneath—she didn’t know any of it.
He led her along the winding path through the bamboo grove, asking casual, everyday questions along the way—where her hometown was, whether she’d grown used to life at the Si residence over the years, whether anything interesting had ever happened while feeding the horses.
The more he spoke, the calmer her heart grew, and the awkward tension between them gradually faded.
She grew more natural too, as if she’d never been mute at all, speaking much more fluently than before.
She told him about each horse’s temperament, laughing as she mentioned which one liked to steal its companions’ feed, which one was the fattest and had the worst temper, speaking animatedly, as if trying to pour out all the words she hadn’t spoken in ten years, all at once.
He occasionally chimed in, expressing surprise or amusement, never once seeming to just be humoring her.
At noon, she reminded him it was time to head back for a meal. Instead, he led her to the riverbank, speared two fish and caught a few crabs with a bamboo pole, then had her go fetch a fire-starter so they could grill the fish and crabs right there by the river.
She was astonished by his behavior—surely this wasn’t fitting conduct for the second young master of the Si household, out catching fish and crabs like some rough countryman.
He seemed completely unconcerned, even asking if the fish he’d grilled tasted good.
Though it burned her tongue, she happily finished every bit of food he gave her.
“Drunk, unaware the sky lies in the water, a boatful of clear dreams weighing down the starry river,” he said, looking at the water. “I wonder whether the poet saw this very river before writing those lines, or whether this place simply grew to resemble the poem.”
“A boatful of clear dreams weighing down the starry river…” she repeated after him, then laughed. “Second Young Master, I don’t understand poetry, but that line really is beautiful.”
“You like it?” He looked at her. “Then I’ll have a collection of poetry added to your dowry.”
“I’d love that!”
By afternoon, the sun finally won its battle against the clouds, peeking out from behind them, lighting up the lush green of the bamboo grove and setting the river’s surface sparkling.
A sudden gust of wind, from nowhere in particular, blew through what had been a windless day, sending bamboo leaves scattering down in a flurry—between sky and water, jade-green leaves spiraled like snow, breathtakingly beautiful.
She was so excited she nearly jumped up, unable to stop herself from grabbing his sleeve. “Second Young Master, look, look, I knew the falling bamboo leaves would be beautiful!”
He smiled, reaching out to catch a leaf. “They really are.”
She hummed a tune happily, wanting to sing despite being tone-deaf.
Today was more beautiful than any dream.
Not far off in the bamboo grove, Tao Yao withdrew her hand and let out a breath of relief, then glanced at the bamboo around her, grumbling, “Your leaves are way too sturdy—took so much effort to blow them down, how annoying!”
Then she glanced once more at the two figures by the riverbank, pursed her lips, and turned to leave.
Today, the beautiful dream by Clear Dream River belonged only to Ding San Si.
The day of parting arrived, as it inevitably would.
Old Man Ding gave Tao Yao a final round of detailed instructions about caring for the horses, and she nodded along hastily, expressing her thanks.
For this trip home, they wouldn’t be taking the donkey cart—Steward Miao said the second young master had let them pick a horse to take with them. Combined with the dowry gift he’d sent, Old Man Ding was overwhelmed with gratitude, unable to stop grinning.
By the fence at the stable grounds, Ding San Si gave Tao Yao a hug.
Today, and from now on, she would once again be the mute Ding San Si who couldn’t speak—but it didn’t matter at all, because there had been one day when she’d been able to say everything she’d ever wanted to say most, to the one person who mattered.
Tao Yao patted her back. “Live well from now on, all right? A hundred years of happiness, three years to have a couple of kids!”
She smiled, glaring at Tao Yao, and pulled her hand over to write: “Thank you for the medicine.”
Tao Yao just smiled and said nothing, silently apologizing—it had been a lie; there was no such miracle medicine that could grant a day of speech.
“You’re amazing,” she wrote again.
Tao Yao laughed, then glanced at Old Man Ding loading things onto the cart and said, “You’re going back to that village again—I hear there’s a huge mountain there.”
She nodded, her eyes full of nostalgia, and wrote in Tao Yao’s hand: “Very beautiful!”
“A mountain that big—might be hiding some demons in there,” Tao Yao said, blinking. “Wonder if you’ll ever run into one.”
She thought about it, then wrote seriously: “I’ve seen one! A rainy day. Visiting my little sister’s grave.”
Tao Yao smiled. “Really? Weren’t you scared?”
She smiled too, and wrote: “Round, small, sick, cute, not scared.”
“All right, I believe you saw a cute little demon.” Tao Yao gave her one final hug. “Take care of yourself.”
“Take good care of this place.” That was Ding San Si’s very last message to her.
Si Kuanglan didn’t appear, just as Ding San Si had returned to the life that had always belonged to her, and this man had returned to his usual reclusive self. That single day belonging to the second young master who could laugh and grill fish, and the horse-tending girl who could speak, had now become nothing more than a gift stored away in memory.
For two people who didn’t belong to the same world at all, such a parting was, in its own way, complete.
Once the sound of hoofbeats carrying the Ding family away had faded into the distance, Tao Yao walked back to the tree. On one of its branches lay the little white-furred, winged demon. The only difference was that its body was now much smaller than before, no bigger than an adult’s thumb. At this moment it was sleeping, snoring softly.
That day, it had told Tao Yao: it doesn’t matter, even without my cultivation, I can still keep cultivating. I’m a demon—I have plenty of time, but she doesn’t. I just wanted to talk to someone, that’s all. Why let her carry a regret.
A hundred years of cultivation, traded for one day of her joy.
Well then. As long as you’re happy.
Epilogue
“You said Yun Yang?” Young Master Liu said, picking vegetables. “The kind that live in trees and mimic human speech, tricking people into thinking it’s the tree talking?”
Tao Yao nodded. “More precisely, this kind of demon grows directly from old trees that have accumulated enough of heaven and earth’s spiritual essence over the years. Even after becoming demons capable of wandering freely, they still prefer to dwell in trees out of habit. There was once a cultivator who wrote a book, saying something to the effect of: ‘In the mountains there are great trees, and some that can speak—it is not the tree itself that speaks, but its essence, called Yun Yang; call to it, and it brings good fortune.’ Really, a Yun Yang attaching itself to a tree and mimicking human speech is just a way of scaring off what it perceives as threats—it’s the only self-defense trick these little demons have.” She paused, then added solemnly, “‘Old trees in the mountains easily give rise to Yun Yang, white-furred and winged, skilled in human speech, gentle in nature, thriving in spring and weakened in autumn. Captured and made into medicine, it can cure the affliction of lost voice.’ That’s what our friend—that thing—had to say about it.”
“For such a tiny demon to willingly give up a hundred years of cultivation, just to possess Miss Ding and use its demonic power to free her from her fate as a mute, even if only for a single day—I find that truly admirable,” Mo Ya said with feeling. “Tao Yao, you must take me to see it—I want to personally express my respect to such a kind-hearted demon, I’m willing to chant scripture for it for three whole days!”
“No!” Tao Yao refused flatly. “Your chanting would annoy it to death. No need to bother it at all—just let it stay up in that tree for another few decades or a hundred years, that’s fine. But honestly, a foolish demon like that—even after another thousand years of cultivation, who knows, it might just throw away its cultivation again someday for whoever happens to give it an umbrella. Ugh, forget about it—what’s for dinner tonight?”
“You didn’t bring home a single coin, and you’ve got the nerve to ask about dinner?” Young Master Liu snorted coldly. “Didn’t you say last time that the food at the Si residence was so good it made you cry? Our cooking’s beneath you now, is it?”
“Even a hanged man needs to take a breath! I only get one day off every ten days to come see you all!” Tao Yao glared at him. “Besides, it’s not even payday yet—do you have any idea how exhausting it is raising horses to support you lot!”
Just then, chaotic squawking erupted from the courtyard. Mo Ya immediately sprang up, exclaiming, “Gungun’s after the chickens again!” and dashed off in a flash to deal with his fox.
“The little monk’s still got plenty of energy! Looks like life’s been quite lively without me around.” Tao Yao watched with a grin as chickens flew and the fox darted about, the monk in hot pursuit.
“Don’t even start—technically it’s your job to look after that little monk, and now it’s been dumped on me. Don’t worry, I’ve kept count of this one too,” Young Master Liu said with a cold smile. “We’re getting close to a hundred things now.”
“Fine, fine, put your hundred things aside for now—I actually have something I need to ask you,” Tao Yao said, leaning in and lowering her voice. “Look into the background of the Si residence for me. Everything about those two young masters—background, history, gossip—don’t leave anything out.”
Young Master Liu drawled, “Heh, you’re living right there in their household and you still can’t figure it out yourself?”
“Don’t talk back! Just go do it!” She grabbed a few vegetable leaves and threw them at him, then propped her chin in her hand, putting on a lovesick expression. “It’s rare I get to run into someone this gorgeous—broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs, a stunner among mortals. I can’t make my move properly without knowing all the details!”
Young Master Liu shot her an icy look. “Switching targets already? What happened to your precious Thunder God?”
“The Thunder God’s up in the heavens, the Si young master’s down here on earth. No conflict at all.”
“Shameless…”
“Hey! You’re the one who called me ‘husband’ just now—I’m out there working hard to support you and the little monk, show a little respect when you talk to me!”
“Yes, dear husband, this wife will go prepare dinner right away—hopefully enough to kill you with one meal!”
“If I die, you’ll be a poor widow, how pitiful!”
“Amitabha, what on earth are you two going on about… could you at least try to be a bit more dignified?”
“Get your fox to be dignified first!”
“Tao Yao, you…”
In the humble little house, the air was once again thick with bickering—but really, this was just how the trio of Tao Capital always was. As for their new life in the capital, it was bound to get livelier and livelier from here. Just wait and see.