Prologue

“I could kill a lion twice my own size, yet I never once thought to step outside my cage.”

“I can wash clothes and cook rice, but my whole life cannot be only washing clothes and cooking rice.”

1

Uh oh, had he just kicked someone to death?!

His face went bone-white, the foot he’d kicked still hanging in midair. On the empty stretch of water before him, something very much like a person floated up slowly, limbs stiff and senseless, strands of long hair drifting loose around it in the current.

He yanked his foot back and instinctively looked around—the area near the docks was already empty, even the vendor selling paper money and lanterns had packed up and gone. In the humid, sticky depths of the night, his was the only commotion around.

Thank goodness there was no one else here.

He calmed slightly. His elder brother was always reminding him to stay low-key and cautious on land, to avoid anything that might draw attention, and above all never to get tangled up in trouble with the authorities or, worse, a human death! These creatures who lived only a few decades and fell sick or hurt so easily were far too fragile—if he carelessly took a life, even without eating the flesh, if the Thunder God found out, it would mean serious trouble. Anyone who ended up on that ruthless, petty old deity’s list had only one guaranteed way to stay safe: following the rules. The thought of the Thunder God’s wrath made his momentarily calmed heart clench right back up again.

Never mind Ghost Festival, never mind water ghosts—he plunged straight into the water, caught hold of the drifting figure before it floated too far, and hauled it back to shore in a few strokes.

The night was deep, and by the scattered lantern light along the docks, he could just make out that what lay before him was a person—solid, with real weight. Both hands and feet had gone pale from soaking in seawater, marked with cuts and bruises of various sizes. He hesitated a moment, then reached out and brushed the hair away from her face; a woman’s face, not frightening at all, appeared in the dim yellow light, eyes shut tight, no breath at all, a fresh, large bump swelling on her forehead.

Now he was completely certain she wasn’t a water ghost, but his mood was worse than if he’d actually seen one. This was it—no breath at all. Had his kick really been that hard?!

He panicked, glancing around again, and for once actually wished someone else were here—at least someone to help with the rescue. He was more than capable of killing jiao-dragons and sea monsters, but saving someone… when had he ever saved anyone? He’d seen people pull drowning victims from the water before, but he’d just glanced over and moved on—after all, he and his brother could never drown, and the crew members chosen to sail with them were all excellent swimmers themselves. He’d simply never had reason to develop this particular skill…

“Hey!” he called out anxiously, then slapped her cold cheek a few times in a row. “Are you dead? If you’re not dead, answer me!”

Of course she didn’t answer. Aside from a few handprints now on her face, nothing changed.

He panicked further, trying desperately to recall everything he’d ever seen of others performing rescues, but he couldn’t dredge up any useful details—only a vague memory that people said drowning victims easily lost their souls, and you had to call their soul back to revive them. But what on earth was “calling the soul”? He didn’t even know this woman’s name—what was he supposed to call out?

Amid the chaos in his mind, the one thing he was certain of was that if he didn’t act fast, this person really would turn into a ghost, and a giant thundercloud with his death sentence written all over it seemed to be gathering right above his head…

He hauled her upright and shook her frantically. “Wake up! You absolutely cannot die! If you’re going to die anyway, at least go explain to the Thunder God first that this was an accident—you popped up out of nowhere and scared me, that’s why I kicked you, it was instinct, not malice!!”

The woman’s head lolled back and forth from the shaking, still showing no sign of waking.

He was growing desperate. If only he hadn’t left the ship tonight—if he’d just gone to bed early like his brother, none of this would have happened! How was he supposed to fix this now?!

“Would you stop shaking her already?! She just got kicked unconscious and swallowed some water. Lay her flat and press down on her stomach a bit—make her spit the water back out!”

Through his blurred, panic-stricken vision, a sudden point of light appeared, finally coming into focus above the woman’s head—

A bear’s face?!

Probably a bear—it resembled one, at least, though the ears were bigger, like two furry round fans, and the fur was an unusual iron-gray color rather than any ordinary bear’s coat. If it hadn’t opened its mouth to speak, it would have looked exactly like a statue cast from iron… but this “statue” was incomplete, because it was only a head—beneath the head was nothing but a formless wisp of cloudy mist, and looking closely, even the head itself was semi-transparent.

This strange thing had drifted, unnoticed, above the woman’s head, glaring down at him with an expression of pure disgust.

He had no time to study this creature—saving her came first. He hurried to follow its instructions, laying the woman flat and pressing on her abdomen with steadily increasing force, silently praying she wouldn’t die.

“Don’t press too hard, you’ll crack her ribs! And I’m telling you now, if she dies, you and I aren’t finished! You got grabbed by the ankle and that’s how spineless a demon you turned out to be! Useless!”

The bear-head drifted beside him, supervising the rescue while cursing him out furiously.

Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead; he barely registered what it was saying, focused only on pressing down again and again.

He had no idea whether he’d done it dozens or hundreds of times, but at last the frail figure beneath his hands finally coughed up a mouthful of water and began coughing violently.

Overjoyed, he quickly propped her up and patted her back. “It’s okay, it’s okay, keep spitting it out!”

She coughed for a long while before finally showing signs of easing. Her eyes half-opened, her face wearing a dazed, sleepwalking expression, and after a long moment she finally murmured, “My… head hurts…”

Before she’d even finished speaking, her head lolled to one side and she passed out again, right in his arms.

“Hey! Why’d you go out again?!” He panicked once more, checking hastily for her breath, and finally let out a huge sigh of relief when he found she was still breathing. Headache or not didn’t matter—alive was all that mattered.

“Who wouldn’t have a headache after taking a kick like that from you? Look at the size of that lump!” The bear-head snorted.

“My fault, my fault…” he nodded, then immediately felt a bit indignant. “But she shouldn’t have just popped out of the water in the middle of the night and grabbed my foot either!”

“Not my problem, you’re the one who kicked her!” The bear-head rolled its eyes.

Only now did he finally turn his attention fully to this strange creature, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he recalled what he’d just heard. “Did you just say I’m a demon?”

“No point playing coy with another demon in front of me. Your demonic aura reeks worse than moldy dried fish—something from the sea, aren’t you?” The bear-head wrinkled its nose, pulling a disgusted face. “If you weren’t a demon, I wouldn’t have bothered showing myself. And such a useless one too, can’t even save a person properly.”

He frowned. “That’s enough out of you. First time in my whole life anyone’s talked to me like that. If you hadn’t just helped me out so much, I’d swallow you whole, I swear.”

“You think you could swallow me?” The bear-head thrust itself right up to his face. “Go on then, try it! If I so much as flinch back half an inch, I lose!”

He leaned his head back slightly. “No need. You don’t even have a physical body—of course you’re not afraid of my teeth.” He studied this bad-tempered bear-head, unable to suppress his curiosity. “Is this your true form?”

“Part of it.” The bear-head drifted back to the other side, snapping irritably. “Humans really are dim, and your eyes aren’t much better—can’t you see I’m down to just a head! If you saw my real form, you’d drop dead of fright!”

“Then what exactly are you? Go on, scare me.”

“I am Heaven’s Iron!”

“Never heard of it…”

The bear-head flew into a rage. “Ignorant creature! Back in my day, I could’ve swallowed ten of you in one bite!”

“You really do have a foul temper…” he sighed.

“Never mind my temper—Cai Liliu’s life is in your hands now, and if anything happens to her while she’s with you, if it delays my great plans, I won’t let you off!” The bear-head’s eyes practically blazed with fire.

“You’re down to just a head and you still have great plans…” He wanted to laugh but didn’t quite dare. Glancing at the unconscious woman in his arms, he muttered, “Cai Liliu? Huh, her father must really love raising fish…”

He thought it over, then scooped her up. No choice, really—it was his fault she’d ended up like this, so he’d have to bring her back for now, just hoping his brother wouldn’t lecture him too badly.

He was about to leave when he stopped and turned back to the bear-head. “Where exactly did you come from anyway? Have you always been with this young lady?”

The bear-head looked at the woman, its gaze softening for just an instant before turning fierce again. “None of your business! Just bring her back to me in one piece, and… ” it added with emphasis, “if she wakes up, don’t you dare breathe a word about me.”

“Why not?” he asked, confused. “Aren’t you two close?”

“Close?” The bear-head rolled its eyes around. “I suppose so. I’ve been with her since she was seventeen—that counts as close.” It paused, then added, “But she has no idea I exist.” With that, it turned back to him with a toothy grin. “After all, she’s my food. When the time comes, I’m going to eat her.”

Food? And here he’d thought their relationship was rather nice…

“What are you standing around for? Hurry up and take her somewhere safe to recover—she needs good food and drink, not a single thing missing! Stupid demon!” The bear-head spun around in a huff, then in an instant transformed into a beam of light and settled onto the woman’s chest.

Looking closely, he saw a small piece of grayish-white bone, resembling something from an animal, tied on with a red cord and hanging securely around her neck.

Had this demon been hiding inside that bone the whole time?

His curiosity only grew—he truly had never heard of Heaven’s Iron. Perhaps his brother would know?

Tonight’s encounter had genuinely been heart-stopping—running into such an outrageous demon, and now this woman called Cai Liliu in his arms, who looked perfectly ordinary, though what ordinary woman pops up out of the sea in the middle of the night…

He let out a long breath, uncertain whether this Ghost Festival night marked Cai Liliu’s bad luck, or his own.

The one thing he could be grateful for: no one had actually died.

He shook his head and hurried off, carrying her in his arms.

2

Their ship’s departure had already been delayed three days—something that had never happened before.

Cai Liliu’s headache, at least, was gone. But now he had a headache. And his brother had an even bigger one.

Because Cai Liliu refused to leave… Wasn’t there a human word for this kind of behavior? Shameless?

This afternoon, his brother stood at the bow, brow knit tighter than even during the days, years ago, when they’d gone ten or fifteen days without a single bite of meat. His fingers slid slowly along the railing, then he raised them to eye level, murmuring to himself, “Truly… spotless.”

He crouched down, mimicking his brother’s gesture, and rubbed a finger across the deck, then held it up with a wry smile. “I saw her wipe down this whole deck five times this morning already…”

“I know.” His brother sighed. “But so what? Our ship doesn’t need a floor-scrubber.”

“She washed our dirty clothes too…”

“I know…”

“She cooked lunch for everyone…”

“I KNOW!!”

Cai Liliu really was unbelievably industrious. From the moment she’d regained consciousness, figured out where she was, and confirmed their identities, she simply couldn’t lie still—medicinal salve on her forehead or not, nothing stopped her from actively pitching herself to them, insisting she was strong and hardworking, skilled at washing, cooking, cleaning, and mending, and not bad in the water either. In short, she was determined to find any excuse to convince them to let her stay aboard.

But how could that possibly work? How could they possibly keep a woman aboard their ship!

“No.” His brother refused outright. “Letting you recover here temporarily was already an exception we made—we couldn’t very well leave you unconscious and injured in the street. Now that you’ve woken up and seem to have no serious injuries, I’ll give you some traveling money. Please disembark soon and stop wasting our time.”

Cai Liliu shook her head vigorously, planting herself firmly and refusing to budge. “I sincerely want to stay and help on the ship! I won’t take a single coin of wages, I just want two meals a day, and I barely eat much anyway!”

“We only hire male crew members. You’re a young woman—do you really think it’s appropriate to share close quarters with fifteen or twenty grown men?” His brother frowned, unwilling to resort to dragging her off by force and tossing her out.

“It’s totally appropriate!” She widened her eyes. “Actually, I’m not really a young unmarried woman anymore.” She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I used to be married.”

“It’s not appropriate for us!” His brother’s voice rose a notch. “Whether you’re unmarried or someone’s wife makes no difference to us—the point is, there simply cannot be a woman on our ship!”

“Are men people and women aren’t?” She kept her eyes wide, straightening her small frame and thumping her chest as she vowed, “My hands and feet are especially quick! The tables I wipe down could reflect your face!”

“We have mirrors for that!!”

“The clothes I wash come out clean as new!”

“We’re grown men who can go three months without changing our clothes and be fine!”

“My cooking is delicious!”

“We’re not picky eaters!!”

“Kind ship owner, sirs, I’ll go get to work right now, just watch and see if I’m capable or not.”

“Wait— hey, where are you going?!”

He wanted to laugh—seeing his always-composed brother reduced to this frantic, helpless state was quite something.

“How did you manage to attract a madwoman like this?” His brother’s temper finally turned on him. “It’s like she doesn’t even understand human speech!”

“My fault for kicking too hard.” He sighed helplessly. “She’s a weak woman, after all—we can’t just abandon her.”

“We already have. Does she look weak to you now, full of energy like that?” His brother rubbed his throbbing temple. “You’re the one who brought her back. I’m giving you until tomorrow sundown—I don’t want to see her on my ship after that!”

“But she…” He hesitated a moment, then said quietly to his brother, “She has a demon on her, you saw it too, didn’t you?”

“That bear-head that only knows how to curse people out?” His brother lowered his hand, giving a cold laugh. “If it were a complete, intact Heaven’s Iron, I might consider keeping it for our own use. But in its current sorry state, all it’s good for is running its mouth—what use is that kind of useless thing?”

“You know about Heaven’s Iron?” He was extremely curious. “What does its complete form look like?”

His brother said dismissively, “Legend has it that years ago, the kingdom of Kapisa presented a Heaven’s Iron as tribute to the emperor, said to be able to subdue lions and white elephants, unmatched in ferocity. I never saw it myself, but I’d guess it’s just a beast with brute strength and nothing else, or it wouldn’t have been offered up as tribute in the first place.”

“So you’ve never actually seen its complete form either.” He sighed with regret. “But how did it end up down to just a head? And how did it end up around her neck?”

“How would I know.” His brother shot him a look. “And I don’t want to know. In short, you’d best set aside your curiosity and get this woman off my ship immediately!”

“Fine…” He hurried out of the cabin before his brother’s temper could burn him alive.

Looked like she really couldn’t stay after all. Actually, he didn’t mind, not really—people always talked about fate, didn’t they? Getting kicked in the head by him in the dead of Ghost Festival night, mistaken for a ghost—wasn’t that quite the fated encounter too? Otherwise why had it been him, specifically, that night? He was supposed to have stayed on the ship, and yet for some inexplicable reason he’d gone ashore to set lanterns adrift. If she really was as capable as she claimed, keeping her aboard wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. And that bear-head, inseparable from her—he’d clearly heard it say Cai Liliu was its food… could something in that state really eat a person? Surely it was bluffing… but what if it really could? If they drove Cai Liliu away, wouldn’t that be leaving her to die?

His mind was a mess of tangled thoughts, none of which he dared voice to his brother. In all their years running the ship in the human realm, among his brother’s many instructions, “don’t meddle in other people’s business” was always at the top of the list. His brother said their sole purpose wandering the human realm was to fill their stomachs—everything else was just meddling.

And Cai Liliu was about as thorough a case of meddling as it got…

He’d just stepped onto the deck when he suddenly spotted someone climbing up the mast, reaching for the flag tied there—one bearing the image of a beast’s head, chosen at random. He’d heard people say that those who made their living from the sea, like them, needed a bright, fierce-looking flag flying for good luck.

But what was she doing climbing up there?

He nearly had a heart attack, rushed to the base of the mast in two strides, and shouted up at her, “What are you doing?!”

“Your flag’s filthy and torn, I’m taking it down to wash and mend it,” she called back loudly, clinging to the mast like some deranged monkey. “A clean flag flies with much more spirit!”

This woman… the mast wasn’t especially tall, but the bump on her head hadn’t even gone down yet—if she got dizzy and fell, wouldn’t that death be on his head too!

“Get down here!” he snapped, raising his voice. “Right now! Immediately!”

She still hesitated.

“GET DOWN!!!”

Only then did Cai Liliu finally slide down, trembling.

Once she landed safely, his anxious heart finally settled, and he looked her over in disbelief. “You know how to climb masts too?”

“First time,” she admitted honestly. “But I can climb trees. No tree’s too tall for me.”

Now he finally understood his brother’s throbbing headache. He said, with heartfelt sincerity, “Miss Cai… Sister Cai? Whatever you prefer. We really don’t need your help washing our flag, or our clothes, or cooking for us. It was wrong of me to injure you, but I’ve done everything I should to make it right. Now that you’re not seriously hurt, you really should disembark soon—we’ve already lost a lot of time because of you, and in this line of work, nothing’s worse than delaying a scheduled departure. If you think I’m not such a bad person, please do me this one favor and don’t disrupt our business, alright?”

The spirited energy that had never left her face since waking finally showed the faintest crack of deflation.

“I really can’t stay on your ship…” She lowered her head, twisting her fingers together in disappointment.

“I’m sorry, truly.” He softened his tone. “But don’t worry, my brother said he’ll give you travel money. He’s not exactly warm-hearted, but he’s never stingy when it comes to money—he won’t shortchange you. Think of it as compensation for your injury. With that money, you shouldn’t have too hard a time going forward.”

Cai Liliu said nothing, still staring down, twisting her fingers.

“By the way, you said you were married—how did you end up falling into the sea all alone?” he blurted out. “You must have slipped and fallen in, right?”

“Um… ah…” She stammered for a good while, then looked up, pointing at the bump on her head, and said with a smile, “I’m fine now. Thank you so much for bringing me back and taking care of me. I… I’ll head off the ship now.”

Finally convinced her… He let out a huge sigh of relief, but then it struck him that just sending her off like this still felt somehow wrong. “You haven’t eaten anything since you woke up—why don’t I take you to a restaurant near the docks for a bite, and buy you a new set of clothes too.”

He looked her over—that night everything had happened so suddenly, she’d been soaked through, and with no women’s clothing available, they’d had no choice but to dress her in his and his brother’s old clothes. Though she was taller than most women, she still swam in the oversized garments; a gust of wind and her whole figure swayed unsteadily, like some homeless spirit.

She looked rather pitiful, honestly, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Fated encounters, as they say, come quickly and leave just as fast. Best to give her as much money as possible, and just hope that bear-head’s harsh words were only harsh words—otherwise, all the trouble he’d gone through to save her would just end with her becoming a demon’s meal, and he might as well not have bothered saving her at all!

Sigh, in any case, he’d decided: from now on, every Ghost Festival, he’d stay dutifully aboard the ship and go nowhere at all.

3

His brother had kept his word, giving her a generous sum as “compensation,” but she only accepted a small portion, saying it was enough—she didn’t eat much anyway, and besides, she could always earn her own living, she wouldn’t starve.

He’d kept his word too, pleading with his brother for half an afternoon before taking her to buy two new sets of clothes near the docks, then bringing her to a small restaurant, where he ordered the most expensive dishes on the menu to make sure she ate her fill.

Throughout it all, she remained grateful to him, holding no grudge whatsoever over the kick, saying they’d become acquainted through that very blow.

Then he discovered she didn’t eat nearly as little as she’d claimed… She drank six bowls of fish soup all by herself.

She ate with tremendous enthusiasm, the fragment of bone hanging from her neck swinging back and forth as she devoured her food. Several times he found himself staring at that bone, lost in thought—ever since she’d woken from unconsciousness, Heaven’s Iron hadn’t shown itself again. If it really had been such a ferocious demon once, how had it fallen into such a wretched state? He felt a twinge of regret; once this meal was over, he’d likely never get the chance to ask.

A meat-stuffed flatbread had barely made it halfway into her mouth, not yet even chewed, when her gaze, wandering idly out the window, suddenly caught on something, and in an instant her whole body dropped down beneath the table, cheeks bulging with unchewed food, not daring to so much as move her jaw.

Had she seen a ghost in broad daylight?

He bent down to peer under the table. “What’s…”

“Shh!” She hastily raised a finger to her lips, forcing herself to swallow the flatbread, whispering, “Has that big beard guy outside gone far away yet?”

“Big beard?” He looked out the window and, after a moment, spotted a stocky, short man with a full beard wearing yellow, currently browsing a stall selling dried goods.

“Do you mean the man in yellow?” he asked.

“Yes!” she answered, nearly breathless, clearly terrified of being spotted from outside.

“He’s buying dried fish across the way, hasn’t gone far.”

“Buying dried fish?”

She quickly crawled out from under the table, cautiously peeking her head up just above the window, confirming he really was buying dried fish. Only once the man had finished and left did she finally let out a huge sigh of relief, wiping cold sweat from her forehead as she settled back into her seat, muttering, “That scared me half to death.”

He was thoroughly confused. “Is he someone you know?”

“Don’t know him.” She laughed awkwardly, the words tumbling out. “Wrong person, I thought he’d caught up with me again.”

“He?” He glanced out the window again—the bearded man had already vanished into the distance. He turned back, staring at her as she gulped down tea to calm her nerves. “Just someone who resembles him is enough to frighten you this badly?”

She drained her whole bowl of tea in one go, belched, glanced outside once more, and answered a question he hadn’t quite asked: “It’s nothing, I mistook him for someone else.”

“That night when I changed your clothes, I saw a lot of old scars on your body.” He hadn’t meant to bring it up, but his mouth got away from him.

It hadn’t been by choice—even in summer, they couldn’t very well leave an injured woman lying around in soaked clothes, and with no woman aboard, he’d had no choice but to set aside propriety and change her clothes himself, earning him a scolding from the sudden bear-head about being too slow and letting his eyes wander, forcing him to douse the lamp before it would allow him to continue—thoroughly exasperating. Even so, he’d still glimpsed burn scars on her neck and shoulders, along with older marks elsewhere on her body whose origins he couldn’t guess, and most alarmingly, a deep knife scar running along her arm, and another on her palm.

He genuinely couldn’t imagine how such scars had come to mark such an ordinary-looking woman—he’d met all sorts of martial-world figures before, and none of them bore this many scars.

She cradled her teacup, gaze settling on the empty bottom, and after a long moment finally looked up with a smile. “I left my husband a divorce letter.”

“Huh?” He was startled—was this the reason she’d been hurt? He’d only ever heard of husbands divorcing wives among humans; a wife divorcing her husband… at least, this was the first he’d heard of it.

“Though I’m not sure it really counts as a proper divorce letter, I just wrote whatever came to mind.” She feigned lightness, smiling breezily. “Had to give him some kind of explanation—I wasn’t running away, I was leaving.”

He studied her face, still smudged with bits of meat, weighing how much of what she’d said he could believe.

“It’s true.” She looked him in the eye. “You saved me, I won’t lie to you. I’m just a shamelessly disobedient woman.”

He fell silent a moment, then said bluntly, “You say it wasn’t running away, but from where I’m standing, it looked like quite the desperate escape.”

“That’s…” She looked a bit embarrassed. “It’s been three years since I left him. At first he really did search everywhere for me, but he never found me.” She unconsciously clenched her fists. “I just kept going farther and farther away. Knowing his temperament, he’ll give up eventually.”

“How far did you go?” He took a sip of tea.

“My hometown’s in Huanzhou.”

He choked on his tea. Huanzhou… the far north of the north! Thousands of li from Yanzhou!

“You walked all that way to Yanzhou… all by yourself?” He stared at her, incredulous.

“I rode when I could—ox carts, horse carts, donkey carts, anything willing to give me a lift.” She answered honestly.

“Just to get away from your husband?”

“To leave him,” she corrected.

“Fine.” He refilled her cup. “So how did you end up popping out of the water that day?”

“Ran into two thieves. They stole my bundle—everything I owned was in there.” She laughed bitterly. “So of course I had to chase them, I’m quite fast on my feet!”

“Did you catch them?”

“I caught them!”

“And then you must have gotten into a struggle, couldn’t beat two thieves, and ended up thrown into the sea?”

“No… the two thieves fled onto a boat, so I jumped into the water after them, and somewhere along the way I ran out of strength… I drifted along, up and down, don’t even remember how I made it back to shore. Dizzy and disoriented, I saw a pair of feet ahead of me and just grabbed on without thinking.” At this point she laughed at herself. “Turns out I scared you half to death instead, truly sorry about that.”

He couldn’t help but laugh too, waving a hand. “Never mind, like you said, we became acquainted through that kick.” Then a flicker of worry crossed his mind, and he asked, “What are your plans going forward?”

She patted her bulging travel bundle. “I have money now, new clothes, I’ll just keep moving on. But don’t worry, this time I won’t let anyone steal from me again.” She lifted the bone hanging over her heart, saying with mock mystery, “And I have this too!”

“What is that? Looks like just a bone.” He played dumb.

“It is a bone, but not an ordinary one.” She lowered her voice. “It glows!”

“Glows?” He kept up the act. “Only luminous pearls and fireflies glow, don’t they? How could a bone glow?”

“That’s exactly why it’s not an ordinary bone!” She tucked the bone back against her chest, stroking it fondly. “In the dark, all I have to do is touch it and it gives off a silver-gray light, brighter than an oil lamp. It’s the most incredible treasure I’ve ever seen in my life! With it, I’m not afraid of even the darkest places. So, my future won’t be too bad.”

So, to her, it was just a light source…

Since she’d said as much, he should probably just play along, tell her not to worry, wish her a safe journey, and end all further connection with her right here at this table—that would be the proper conclusion to this whole affair, at least in his brother’s eyes.

So, wishing you a bright future, was what he’d meant to say, but what came out instead was: “That whole business of hiding under the table just now didn’t look nearly as carefree as you’re acting right now.” He paused. “It’s been three years since you left him, and you’re still this afraid?”

She drank another half-bowl of tea and laughed. “Maybe in another three years it’ll be fine.”

“And if he does find you, what then?” he asked again.

She thought it over, then stuck out her tongue. “Then I won’t get the chance to sit here and eat with you in this lifetime.”

He gave a forced smile, playing along with her joke that wasn’t really funny at all. This woman kept using a surface-level ease to paper over some unresolved fear buried deep inside her—going farther and farther away… how far would she have to go to reach the stability she wanted? And just getting as far as Yanzhou, how much had she already suffered?

“Why did you want to stay on our ship so badly?” he suddenly asked.

She turned to look out the window, listening intently to the faint sound of waves in the distance, and after a good while finally said, “I’ve heard people say the land beneath our feet is actually quite small. What’s truly vast, truly boundless, is the sea. Your ship’s so big, surely it can reach the farthest seas.”

So, she was simply fixated on some “faraway place” she hadn’t reached yet.

He mulled it over for a moment, then said to the waiter, “Check, please!”

4

“In any case, I don’t care whether the ship’s spotless or not, I don’t care whether the laundry’s clean or not, and I don’t care whether the food tastes good or not.” His brother leaned against the railing, expression blank, staring out at the distant sea. “You’re the one who kept her—if any trouble comes of it, you deal with it yourself, don’t expect me to clean up after you.”

He stood behind him, not daring to say a word against it, only murmuring quietly, “I know keeping her on is a headache, but thinking it over more, what if someday something similar happens to you too—say, you accidentally hurt some young woman? Having her around would at least make things like changing clothes and dressing wounds and daily care much easier.”

What kind of absurd reasoning was that!

His brother whipped around, eyes murderous, words hissing through gritted teeth. “If I ever did something as foolish as you, I’d throw myself into the sea and be done with it—I wouldn’t have the face to stand here in front of anyone!” With that, he stormed off, sleeves flaring, leaving him alone on deck in the wind.

“Fine, fine, next time something like this happens, I’ll go jump in the sea.” He pouted, then suddenly scratched his head. “Except neither of us would actually drown even if we did jump in.”

His brother snorted loudly, not even bothering to look back at him.

“Her cooking really is quite good!” he added loudly.

So, headache or no headache, Cai Liliu stayed on, becoming the first female crew member in their ship’s entire history—though his brother refused to give her the bronze token every other crew member received.

Probably his brother’s final act of stubbornness—as if withholding that token meant Cai Liliu would never truly be within his approval. But he didn’t mind, and Cai Liliu minded even less; just being allowed to stay on their ship already had her nearly moved to tears with joy.

Early the next morning, the ship, delayed several days already, finally set off from Yanzhou harbor.

Their once-familiar life of riding the waves grew, to some degree, unfamiliar again. For a while at the start, his brother offered not a single kind expression, neither to him nor to Cai Liliu. When he’d first brought her back aboard and quietly explained her situation to his brother, pleading for permission to let her stay, his brother had thought it over for a full hour before finally speaking his longest sentence yet to Cai Liliu: first, that if she was truly determined to work aboard, second, that she must understand once at sea, even losing her life would be her own bad luck to bear, and third, that they would absolutely not give her any special treatment on account of her gender—she had one month; if within that month she failed to keep up with her duties, even a single mistake, she would be put ashore immediately, never to return.

Faced with such harsh terms, Cai Liliu didn’t flinch in the slightest. Her only reply to his brother was: “Understood. I accept. Thank you, Captain.” Her serious expression lasted all of two seconds before she spun around, ran over to him joyfully, and grabbed his hand with excitement. “I’ll finally get to see the real ocean!”

She was truly happy—happy enough that risking her life for it seemed worthwhile.

Life sailing through wind and waves was, in truth, quite exhausting and monotonous—ten days, half a month, sometimes the better part of a year confined to one small ship, seeing the same stretch of sea and the same fickle sky whether eyes open or closed, hearing nothing but the rise and fall of wind and waves. Occasionally a crewman who’d had one too many cups of strong liquor would stand at the bow, belting out a tuneless song, while others, thinking of some girl back home, would slip quietly into a corner to pull out an embroidered handkerchief and turn it over and over in their hands.

But whatever quiet habits people indulged in privately, once you’d taken that bronze token marked with the character “Dou,” there could be no slacking on the job—every ounce of effort owed had to be given in full. No one hired by them ever dared defy his brother’s rules. There had been someone once, mouthy and relying on his own considerable size and brute strength, who’d tried to start something—his brother hadn’t gotten angry, merely pointing out that the ship was too small for a proper fight, so why not arm wrestle instead? If his brother lost, the man would get the ship and everything valuable aboard; if the man lost, his wages would be cut in half, and he’d have to kneel at the bow shouting “Captain, I was wrong” five hundred times. The result, of course, was everyone listening to a long stretch of “Captain, I was wrong”… Human strength simply couldn’t compare to theirs; unfair as it was, the precedent his brother set worked wonders. From then on, any dispute aboard was settled by arm wrestling—it looked like child’s play, but it did the most to protect the safety of both ship and crew. Of course, the crew’s respect for his brother came not only from his outstanding leadership presence but from having witnessed firsthand his ferocity dealing with pirates of every stripe. In this line of work long enough, they’d run into no shortage of cutthroat brigands eager to kill for plunder—sea pirates were mostly desperate men, wanting both money and lives, and whenever they crossed paths, his brother was always the one charging out front. However fierce the bandits, none could ever match a Dou Mu. Each time, his brother even had to hold back in front of his own crew, careful not to appear too formidable, occasionally taking a deliberate cut or punch so no one would notice his unnatural strength. Even so, in the crew’s eyes, he was already the most fearsome man they’d ever known—with a captain like that, who would dare disobey? The one thing the crew found strange, though, was that these vicious pirates, if turned over to the authorities, would inevitably face beheading and public display, yet the captain never took their lives himself—only fed the half-beaten pirates a certain brown pill, then released them… The captain never hid this from his crew, explaining it was a secret formula he’d obtained; anyone who swallowed it would afterward struggle just to eat and walk, let alone ever plunder or pillage again. Hearing this, the crew was awed all over again, their reverence and fear of their captain deepening further.

Only he knew the real reason behind his brother’s such “careful consideration”… All these years, his brother had gone to such great lengths navigating the human realm, protecting their own without taking human lives when facing fierce enemies—all, in the end, to preserve their livelihood and that of the entire Dou Mu clan. It hadn’t been easy at all. So he rarely defied his brother’s wishes; whatever his brother decided, he went along without argument, partly out of trust in his brother’s judgment, partly to avoid making him angry. But this time, Cai Liliu had broken that pattern.

It wasn’t that he’d developed some fleeting, love-at-first-sight feeling toward Cai Liliu—it was simply that watching this ordinary woman, willing to walk from the far north to the far south to escape her misfortune, had suddenly reminded him of the years he and his brother had spent migrating from one sea to another in search of food, eventually moving from the sea onto land. Through that long, difficult journey, he’d always had his brother by his side. Cai Liliu had only herself.

Since keeping her aboard could fulfill her greatest wish, and it was such a simple thing to do, why not just do it? If he got scolded for it, so be it.

Most importantly, he never once believed keeping Cai Liliu aboard had been a mistake.

She wasn’t just a hardworking cleaner and cook—she could write, too, and her handwriting wasn’t bad at all, better than either of theirs, so she often helped illiterate crew members write letters home, sending them off whenever the ship docked anywhere. Every time cargo came aboard or left, the recording had always been his job; once she arrived, she began actively shadowing him to watch how he did it, and before long, her records were even clearer and more detailed than his own—once she even caught an error he’d missed. His brother never said a word of praise aloud, but his gaze toward her softened noticeably from then on. She could also repair all sorts of broken odds and ends—chairs with broken legs, damaged stoves, nothing stumped her; the repairs weren’t always perfect, but at least things worked again. What was truly astonishing was that she didn’t just wash clothes but could sew them too—a scrap of worn cloth in her hands could become a decent pair of socks or a headscarf. The shoes she made weren’t finely crafted, but they were comfortable, and everyone wore them happily. On top of all that, the card game she invented successfully filled up much of the crew’s idle boredom—during free time, she was often seen gathered with a group of crew members playing cards, the losers’ faces painted with turtles and other silly designs, the scene wonderfully lively.

There were dangerous moments too, of course—wherever there were fish in the sea, there were pirates on it. During actual clashes, she was undoubtedly afraid; in terms of raw strength and fighting, she couldn’t help at all, only hide as instructed in the safest spot behind them. But she didn’t hide uselessly either—sometimes she’d seize the chance to scatter iron nails on the ground, then dash back to her hiding spot while enemies howled, clutching their feet. Cai Liliu proved through everything she did that although she was just an ordinary, unremarkable woman, she was never useless or worthless.

Gradually, spending every day together, the crew forgot their initial doubts and disdain toward her; no one mocked her anymore, and those with less honorable intentions had long since abandoned any wicked thoughts—partly because his brother had established from the start that any misconduct toward Cai Liliu meant a severed hand for a first offense and drowning for a second, no mercy shown, but more because in their hearts, their feelings toward Cai Liliu had already become entirely separate from questions of gender. Adrift at sea, Cai Liliu had become someone different from all of them yet perfectly, seamlessly a part of their world—she filled in the loneliest, most colorless corner of their shared life. She was a good companion, and companionship doesn’t care about gender.

Recently, Cai Liliu had been learning from the crew’s best fisherman how to cast and haul nets, how to make bait. She seemed to have endless energy every single day—anything she didn’t yet know how to do sparked in her a boundless drive to learn. Compared to people who’d lost all motivation for everything, perhaps this was what people meant by “vitality”?!

But she’d endured so many terrible wounds…

He found his thoughts drifting again to those shocking scars on her body.

5

Before sundown today, their ship anchored beside an uninhabited desert island.

Now it was deep night, the nearby island as silent and well-behaved as the most honest soul in the marketplace. Stars glittered in the sky, and the humid air carried a faint, hard-to-place sweetness—perhaps flower fragrance drifting from some distant shore, or the delicate, lingering scent of powder from some girl buried in memory, or perhaps some celestial maiden dwelling among the moon and stars had simply drifted, unnoticed, through their wandering thoughts. In any case, the spring sea always carried a touch more tenderness and warmth than at other times.

He sat on deck, several small oily fish sizzling over the small charcoal stove before him, filling the air with fragrance. Cai Liliu had one peculiar habit: every time they docked to resupply, unlike everyone else buying themselves treats or toys, she rarely bought new clothes—what she loved buying most was charcoal. Though they’d told her the ship never lacked fuel and needed no extra supply, she always insisted more charcoal was better, good for both warmth and grilling food. Not caring for fine clothes but loving charcoal instead… truly a woman whose mind worked in mysterious ways.

The bottle of liquor beside the stove was nearly empty—he’d had a few sips, the rest had gone down Cai Liliu’s throat. Now she was curled up across from him, sound asleep in the warmth radiating from the charcoal stove, his own outer robe draped over her.

Not just Cai Liliu—every crew member aboard had, at roughly the same time, fallen into the deepest sleep of any night yet. Most of the crew held their liquor well, and Cai Liliu was no exception—of everyone, she’d drunk the most and been the last to fall.

Their rule aboard forbade excessive drinking; he and his brother barely touched alcohol at all, but on every voyage, his brother would occasionally show “extra consideration,” inviting the crew to drink their fill without warning, as comfort for their hard travels. The liquor was always expensive and fine—his brother never skimped there—and the medicine mixed into it was equally good, guaranteed to send drinkers into two full days and nights of comfortable, deep sleep.

He drained the last drop from his cup; all around him now was nothing but snoring, big and small, the crew fast asleep both inside and out, occasionally someone mumbling a fragment of dream-talk, a smile still lingering on their lips.

Cai Liliu, like a well-fed cat, breathed slow and steady in her sleep. Before she’d gone under, he remembered she’d been reminiscing about an old acquaintance from back home—a young schoolteacher. In the time they’d spent together, she rarely spoke of her past, only occasionally letting slip mention of old acquaintances when the conversation flowed naturally, but always people unconnected to her scars, people she described as interesting, people who’d been kind to her.

As for those scars that would never fade, whether she deliberately hid them or had simply stopped thinking of them long ago, he had no way of knowing, and he didn’t press. After all his years in the human realm, he understood well enough not to casually pick at another’s old wounds.

Cai Liliu rolled over, and the robe draped over her slipped down. He reached out to pull it back up, but suddenly drew his hand back at the sudden burst of silver-gray light shooting up from her chest.

“Off to eat again, are you two?” The familiar bear-head drifted before him, clearly displeased. “Wasn’t it just half a month ago you last ate? Every single time, the whole ship reeks of alcohol afterward, makes me seasick just smelling it, so annoying!”

He’d nearly forgotten it existed… Cai Liliu’s inseparable “good companion.”

Ever since Cai Liliu had come aboard, the bear-head occasionally drifted out while she slept—since no one but the two brothers could see it anyway, it had plenty of freedom. Sometimes it watched what the crew was doing; other times it perched atop the mast, seemingly lost in thought for no particular reason. But it never once wore a pleasant expression—either complaining their ship was too shabby compared to the grand, gilded vessels it had once ridden, or mocking the two brothers for being too weak, unable even to fully hide their demonic auras, forced to rely on a whole crew of humans just to find food, no wonder the Dou Mu clan was in decline. In short, never a kind word from it.

His brother no longer bothered arguing with it, saying that a minor demon whose spirit wasn’t even complete, with nothing left but a sharp tongue, deserved a bit of pity. But only he knew that his brother had, at first, thought countless times about simply killing it—except it wasn’t afraid of death in the slightest, even openly declaring that in its current state, though it could do nothing but curse people and drift about, unable to harm even a single hair on anyone, unable to so much as step on an ant, the same held true in reverse: it couldn’t be harmed by others either. Even if it offended the Heavenly Emperor and the Queen Mother themselves, they still couldn’t take its life. No choice about it—that was simply the unkillable gift that came with being a Heaven’s Iron.

At first they hadn’t quite believed it, and after testing it a few times—even when his brother swallowed it whole—it drifted right back out of his brother’s body completely unharmed, and even rolled its eyes at him afterward, thoroughly unimpressed. It would be a lie to say they weren’t startled; in all their experience, they’d genuinely never encountered a demon combining such extreme weakness and such extreme strength at once… Calling it useless was accurate, but calling it formidable was equally accurate… In the end, they had no choice but to adopt an attitude of “tolerance” toward it—however angry it made them, there was nothing they could do about it anyway, and hating something you couldn’t get rid of was simply the most exasperating situation of all.

“Those vicious jiao-dragons don’t show up on our preferred schedule.” He pointed down at the water below the ship. “Once we’ve found some, we can’t let the chance slip by. Eat a bit extra these two times—next encounter might not come for another three to five months, or even longer. Besides, no matter how big the jiao-dragon, once it’s in our mouths it’s nothing but a puff of blood-energy anyway—no harm in stocking up for a couple extra meals.” He reached over to pull the slipped robe back over Cai Liliu. “Going hungry one day and eating well the next has always been our daily life—a demon like you who can’t die no matter what wouldn’t understand the difficulty of it.”

Watching him tend to Cai Liliu so carefully, the bear-head’s expression of displeasure and disdain softened slightly.

“But you came out at just the right time—the moonlight’s beautiful tonight, a rare good moment out at sea. You should take the time to enjoy it too.” He settled back down, stirring the grilling fish with his chopsticks, deliberately sniffing loudly. “Smells so good! Shame you can’t eat it.”

“I only eat living things, what’s fragrant about a dead fish.” It drifted over beside the charcoal stove, wriggling its body as though thoroughly enjoying the warmth radiating from the coals. “No wonder she likes this thing so much. The warmth really is nice.”

“This thing?” He took a bite of fish, gaze settling on the glowing red coals in the stove. “You mean charcoal?”

“Mm.” It gazed at the stove too, saying casually, “When she was nearly frozen to death once, an old Daoist lit a charcoal stove for her, simmered a pot of hot soup on top of it too—that’s what saved her life. Ever since then, she’s thought charcoal was the best thing in the whole world, something that could save a life.”

He laughed—so that was it.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself too. Since you can’t die no matter what, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the cold?” He watched it shift positions repeatedly by the stove, warming its head one moment, its rear the next…

“Of course I’m not afraid of the cold. I just find it pleasant, that’s all.” It seemed to be in a decent mood right now, stretching lazily over the coals. “Where you Dou Mu live, the deep sea’s freezing cold, but my old home’s very hot. Hotter than this charcoal stove, year-round.”

“Homesick?” Rare that it was willing to talk properly, so he took the chance to ask.

It pursed its lips. “What’s there to miss? I was still young when I left, don’t have much attachment to the old place. At most I remember it being unbearably hot.” It yawned, then added, “Hot and warm are two different feelings. I don’t like heat at all, especially since the hot air there was always tinged with the smell of blood.”

“Blood?” His curiosity about its past deepened further. He said frankly, “There’s very little recorded about the Heaven’s Iron clan in the world—even my brother’s only ever glimpsed fragments in certain old texts, saying someone once presented a Heaven’s Iron to the emperor, able to subdue lions…”

“That’s me, isn’t it?” It glared. “And they actually wrote it down?”

He was startled. “That was you?”

“Who else would it be?” It floated down from midair and settled before the stove, the coal-light casting a reddish glow across its face.

“I mean…” He looked it up and down. “You, in this state, subdued lions and white elephants?”

“Idiot! I didn’t look like this back then.” It snorted, extending from beneath its head something that could barely be called a claw, sketching a rough, indescribable creature in midair, saying with great satisfaction, “Back in my day, I was truly magnificent—lions twice my size, white elephants several times over, none of them stood a chance against me. A few moves and they’d become my meal.”

He stared at the vague silver-gray shape hovering in the air and said honestly, “Is that… a pig?”

“That’s my heroic figure back in the day!”

“So Heaven’s Iron’s true form basically resembles a pig…”

“You’re the pig!” It flailed a claw in anger, scattering the shape. “You have no appreciation for my profound artistic skill. I refuse to show you anymore.”

“It was a very good drawing. Please don’t draw anymore.”

His brother’s voice suddenly came from behind—he had no idea when he’d emerged from the cabin, standing in the shadows, watching their whole exchange.

He turned and quickly stood up, asking his brother, “Everything settled?”

His brother nodded, walking over to look at the grilling fish over the stove. “Tastes good?”

He answered quickly, “Delicious! Cai Liliu grilled it, added some spices too.”

His brother picked up a fish and put it in his mouth, eyebrows lifting slightly—usually his way of expressing approval.

“What do you mean by that? I’ll draw whatever I want!” The bear-head finally caught on to what his brother had implied and, furious, began sketching shapes wildly in midair—pigs, horses, cattle, sheep all appeared, everything except anything resembling their actual Heaven’s Iron form…

“Such a foolish shape—no wonder it got captured.” His brother sighed, sitting down to eat a second fish. “Getting captured is one thing, but reducing yourself to this pathetic state on top of it—a demon lower than an ant.”

“What do you know!” It grew genuinely angry now, pointing at itself. “You call this pathetic? Which of you two could lose everything down to a single bone and still find a way to survive and make a comeback? What ant could ever manage that?”

He paused. Joking aside, he certainly didn’t doubt the might of a Heaven’s Iron capable of subduing lions and white elephants—he even believed its original strength might not have been inferior to their own Dou Mu clan, hardly an ordinary creature. But if it had been so formidable, how had it ended up reduced to nothing but a single bone?

“But you are down to just one bone.” His brother showed it no mercy at all, spitting out a bare fish bone from his mouth and deliberately dangling it in front of the creature’s face.

“I…” It was momentarily at a loss for words, wanting to fly into a rage, but the anger in its eyes seemed to deflate slowly, as though pricked by a needle. “I chose to become this way of my own will.”

“That was truly a terrible decision then.” His brother gave it a look of mock sympathy—after enduring so many of its insults, this rare chance to score a point wasn’t one to waste.

He didn’t share his brother’s competitive streak in this and asked seriously, “How did it happen, exactly? Was it really by choice, or did some evildoer bring you to harm?”

It took a deep breath, gazing at the charcoal stove. “When I was young, I fell into the water by accident—the border of my old home was also a stretch of sea, calm on the surface but with currents fierce underneath. I couldn’t climb back out, got swept dazed and disoriented to who-knows-where, and when I finally came to my senses, I was already inside a large cage, surrounded by several people in white robes chanting some jumbled incantations. I wanted to escape, but the moment I touched the cage’s bars, it hurt like needles piercing me, so I didn’t dare move. After that, every day a small child brought living creatures to feed me. He was mute, and he looked at me differently than the adults did. I hated those chanting people, but I didn’t hate him—probably because he always brought me something good to eat. So he was the one who could touch my head; when others tried, I nearly bit their hands off. Gradually, I came to understand the language of the people around me, learned I was in a royal palace, hailed as the ‘nation’s protective divine beast’—even the king would kneel respectfully whenever he visited me. Though I had no idea what exactly I was protecting them from, aside from restricting my freedom, they truly treated me well—compared to life back home, this was practically paradise.” It paused, looking at the two brothers. “You have no idea what my old home was like, do you? Simply put, not much different from hell. I know many demons have named homelands—this mountain, that island—but mine has no name. It’s coastal, probably an island, quite large, with no living creatures besides our own kind, not even plants, only rocks—strangely shaped ones, some growing as tall as trees. Hot year-round, the ground always scorching. Heaven’s Iron has no parents; we’re all born from those round, silver-gray stones scattered across the middle of the island. Every so often, a new batch of our kind appears.”

He listened with a furrowed brow. “You said you only eat living creatures, but your old home had nothing besides your own kind…”

It opened its mouth wide, making a biting motion. “Where I’m from, whoever’s weaker, slower, less alert, less ruthless—ends up filling someone else’s stomach.”

His brother said nothing, calmly spitting a fishbone from his mouth.

He, on the other hand, listened with a chill running down his spine. Even the fierce Dou Mu never practiced cannibalism among their own kind. This Heaven’s Iron, truly born from stone, was it simply born without any capacity for mercy or loyalty at all?

“So you thought I fell into the water while playing around?” It shot them a glare. “I was being chased there.” Its gaze returned to the stove. “So I didn’t find life in that cage difficult at all. Within that small space, I was always the one eating, never the one being eaten.”

“But looking at you now, it seems you did end up eaten after all…” his brother said flatly.

He genuinely feared his brother might set it off again… Fortunately, it seemed too absorbed in its memories to grow angry.

“To secure his own position, the king presented me as a gift to another emperor, hoping to win his favor and ensure his own safety.” It couldn’t resist sketching a large building with its claw again. “I ended up living in an even grander palace, one with a garden of divine beasts, home to all sorts of rare and exotic creatures—mostly ordinary animals, some minor demons with barely any power. The emperor adored me at first, since in that entire palace, I was the only one capable of treating lions and white elephants as a mere snack. But it was the empress who admired me most—I heard her say happily that my ferocity would ‘bring glory to the nation.’ Was I fierce? I was just hungry and wanted to eat. My daily caretaker was still that little mute boy; the king had kept him on, warning him he had to watch over me carefully—if anything went wrong, not only would he die, but his entire family would too. Truthfully, he didn’t need the threat—he’d have looked after me regardless, since in that vast, foreign palace, I was the only thing he was familiar with. Days passed, I ate well and lived comfortably, growing fatter and fatter, and somehow less nimble than before whenever I lunged for food. Once the initial novelty wore off, the emperor’s attention toward me dwindled further and further, the palace grew increasingly desolate, and the creatures in the divine beast garden died off one by one as their years came due. I heard the palace outside was chaotic too, humans busy fighting and scheming among themselves—the little mute boy would tell me so-and-so had died, so-and-so had become emperor. Everyone was too busy to spare us a thought. Then one day, the mute boy and I were both sent out of the palace, loaded onto a large cart, and after days bumping northward, on a heavy snow day, I was delivered to some residence. The mute boy’s face had stayed grim the whole journey, barely speaking a word from departure to arrival. On the third night after we arrived at that residence, he suddenly came to me, and for the first time ever, opened my cage, telling me urgently to run. From his frantic gestures, I understood the reason I’d been sent there. A once-favored old official, not long after retiring home, had fallen mysteriously ill and seemed unlikely to live much longer. The emperor, deeply distressed on hearing this, was told by someone that a broth made from Heaven’s Iron flesh could strengthen the body and even bring the dying back to life. The emperor believed it—after all, in his eyes I was nothing more than an animal from the divine beast garden. What harm could there be in trying?”

He listened with his chest tightening, staring at it. “You didn’t leave?”

It slowly raised its head, and to his surprise, it laughed. “Believe it or not, I could kill a lion twice my own size, yet I never once thought to step outside my cage.”

His brother said nothing, poking at the nearly-spent embers in the stove.

He too found himself at a loss for words.

“Once out of the cage, who would bring my food to me? To survive, would I have to fight humans to the death all over again?” It spoke as lightly as if telling a story that had nothing to do with itself. “So I didn’t leave. None of them knew, anyway—with their limited abilities, they could never actually kill me.”

“Just because you were too lazy to hunt for your own food… you didn’t even fight back once?” He widened his eyes.

“We Heaven’s Iron may have no parents, no one to teach us our abilities, but the secret of Heaven’s Iron is inscribed into our very bodies from birth. Even if they ate all my flesh and blood, it wouldn’t matter—even reduced to a single bone, we can regrow our own muscle and bone, restored completely intact.” It grew smug again. “So my bones are truly extraordinary. Though it did hurt a bit when that group of fools took my flesh and blood, it wasn’t unbearable—gritted my teeth and it passed. Pity they simmered such a huge pot of soup, fed it to that old man for over ten days straight, and still couldn’t save him.”

The more he listened, the more unbelievable it sounded—he even began to suspect it was exaggerating… What demon would be so lazy it would rather be eaten alive than flee to save itself?

“Everyone was quite disappointed at the time, but soon let it go—after all, it had only ever been worth a try. Only the mute boy was truly heartbroken—ah, though by then he wasn’t the little mute boy anymore, he’d grown into a bearded man. He gathered up my bones and cried like an absolute fool. I was almost touched at first, until I realized he really was acting like a fool—he actually held a funeral for me, complete with cremation…” Its expression twisted as though it had eaten something rotten. “Actually, even without burning, all my bones would have transformed into a small fragment on the seventh day after my ‘death’ anyway, existing as my ‘second body.’ But because he burned it, I suffered a whole extra round of pain for nothing, and he was even confused, wondering why it wouldn’t burn away… In the end, he put the bone fragment in a box and buried it in the hills behind the residence.”

“Second body?” His brother’s gaze landed on the bone resting against Cai Liliu’s chest. “Never heard of such a thing.”

He’d certainly never heard of such a peculiar existence either, and could only hope it would continue.

“Let me broaden your horizons a bit.” It shot instantly back into the bone, then emerged again just as quickly, settling back beside the stove. “Heaven’s Iron bones can’t be smashed or burned. Losing the first body doesn’t matter—worst case, after seven days, the second body forms. This small bone is me, I am this small bone—this is the second body: never hungry, never sick, never dying, never destroyed—truly Heaven’s Iron. I’m not exaggerating—you could still harm my first body, but this second body, there’s no weapon in heaven or on earth that could ever destroy it.”

His brother couldn’t help but give it a small round of applause, smiling. “Truly impressive. Though I can’t imagine who’d have that much free time to bother destroying a useless little bone.”

That much was fair, actually… they weren’t meeting it for the first time today—even with this so-called second body, undying and indestructible, what did that really matter? Ordinary humans didn’t even know it existed, and it possessed not the slightest demonic power capable of affecting anyone else—any random stray dog off the street would be more useful than it…

“I’m only maintaining this second body temporarily. Whenever I want, I can return to my first body—and when that day comes, the two of you together won’t even be enough to pick my teeth with!” It snorted coldly, then jutted its chin toward Cai Liliu. “Anyway, the two of you had better take good care of this woman. You agreed to keep her on, so you’re responsible for her from now on—if anything happens to her under your watch, I’ll break both your legs.”

His brother had no interest in responding to such a playful threat, only saying, “I’ll naturally take responsibility for Cai Liliu, because she’s my crew member. Nothing more.”

It rolled its eyes. “We’ll see if you actually manage that.”

Just then, a faint but unusual disturbance suddenly rose from beneath the ship—amid the lingering scent of wine in the spring night, a hint of danger began quietly closing in.

His brother signaled for everyone to stay silent, then after a moment, gave a cold laugh. “A bit late arriving, aren’t they.” With that, he stood and headed toward the bow. He hurried to follow, and the bear-head, of course, knew exactly what the two brothers were about to do—without another word, it vanished back into the bone in an instant.

What was a rare danger to others was, to these two brothers, simply routine business.

Before diving into the water, he couldn’t help glancing back once more at Cai Liliu, sleeping soundly, the bone against her chest emitting a faint glowing halo in the darkness.

“It told me once that it stays with Cai Liliu only so it can eat her once the time comes,” he suddenly said to his brother. “It regards Cai Liliu as food.”

“If everything it just told us was true… it has a second body. The mute boy didn’t.” A faint smile tugged at his brother’s mouth. “Do you really think it stayed there all those years, letting itself be eaten in that soup, purely out of laziness?”

He froze.

“So don’t believe a word of that nonsense!” His brother tossed off this remark and dove straight into the sea.

Understanding dawned on him at last, and he shook his head with a smile.

Beneath the seemingly calm surface of the water, two enormous beasts plunged rapidly downward.

The peace and sweetness of this night remained only on the ship.

Everyone slept especially soundly.

6

Time aboard ship always felt both fast and slow at once. Before they knew it, autumn was already drawing to a close.

They’d returned once more to Yanzhou.

Some days earlier, they’d received a letter from Old Chu, saying he’d returned home, apologizing for having missed them last year, and mentioning that the last day of this month happened to be his birthday—he planned to hold a banquet at home to celebrate and hoped the two brothers would absolutely attend, saying he looked forward greatly to reuniting with them.

As it happened, they had time to spare, so his brother decided they’d take no more jobs this month, return to Yanzhou to rest for ten days before setting off again—giving crew members whose families were in Yanzhou a chance to visit home early too, which delighted everyone.

Once the ship reached Yanzhou, the two brothers headed off to the birthday banquet while the rest of the crew went home to visit family, leaving Cai Liliu entirely alone. She didn’t mind at all, even suggesting she stay behind to watch the ship so everyone else could go enjoy themselves.

She’d always been like this—never letting herself become a burden to anyone.

His brother had originally agreed to let her stay, but after boarding off the ship, he turned back once more, and seeing her standing by the rail in the desolate autumn wind, smiling and waving at them, suddenly changed his mind, telling him to go back and call her along to join them at the Chu family’s birthday celebration.

Cai Liliu was a bit taken aback by the unexpected honor, but compared to staying behind to polish railings, she was of course happy to join the brothers for the outing. Having drifted at sea so long, though everyone gathering aboard was enjoyable enough in its own way, being away from the bustling warmth of life on land for so long inevitably made one wistful for it.

Once they arrived at the Chu residence, Old Chu, seeing them arrive bearing birthday gifts, was overjoyed, repeating “It’s been so long, so long” over and over, his aged face flushed with excitement, words tumbling out unevenly.

Once seated inside, looking around, they thought to themselves that being a “tide-runner” really was a lucrative trade—judging by the scale and decor of the Chu residence, it would count as a grand household even set against the imperial capital itself, let alone Yanzhou. No wonder people were willing to risk their lives for this line of work.

But the hardship was real too, evident just from looking at Old Chu—only a few years had passed, yet the old man had grown noticeably thinner, what few black hairs remained on his once-full head had gone entirely white, even his eye sockets had sunk in unflatteringly, his skin dark and rough, his whole body looking as though it had been thoroughly wrung out—not just gaunt, but visibly drained of vitality too.

“Money’s endless to earn, but people grow old and die.” His brother studied Old Chu. “Still won’t return to land to enjoy your remaining years in peace?”

“I’d love to, but it’s genuinely difficult.” Old Chu shook his head with a bitter smile, raising his cup. “Have some tea, top-grade leaves, all of it.”

He didn’t know much about tea, but taking a sip, he found it genuinely sweet and fragrant. He smacked his lips. “You’re already quite wealthy, sir. With a house this fine, few in Yanzhou could surpass you. Since it’s a family trade passed down through generations, it’s about time to hand it down further. Keep running yourself ragged like this and you’ll shrivel up into a dried husk of a man.”

“Haha, you two are still so considerate of others.” Old Chu laughed, then sighed. “I’ve long wanted to be an idle man tending flowers and plants, sleeping soundly every night. Unfortunately, I only have one son, born rather late—though I’ve taken him along on some trips already, he’s still too young, not yet seasoned enough, and needs me looking after him. This trade of ours is nothing but scraping a living from hardship and danger. I’m used to enduring it by now, not afraid of a few more years of it. We’ll see, once he’s ready to stand on his own.”

His brother took a sip of tea and asked, “Since today is Old Chu’s birthday, why don’t I see your son around?”

Old Chu smiled awkwardly. “That boy loves to play around—says he’s preparing some grand gift for me, been gone since early this morning. Should be back soon, I’d think.”

His brother glanced around again. “Shouldn’t the house be much livelier today? Where are the other guests?”

From the moment they’d entered the residence, they’d only seen a few servant boys along the way, nowhere near the crowd of guests one might expect—if not for the simple “longevity” character pasted up in the main hall, there would have been no sense of celebration at all.

“Today, you two are our only honored guests,” Old Chu explained. “I’ve heard people say, the older one gets, the less fitting it is to make a big fuss over one’s birthday—supposedly it risks alarming the King of the Underworld into taking you early.”

This time Cai Liliu couldn’t help but laugh, then quickly caught herself, worried it seemed rude.

Old Chu noticed her expression, of course, and said with a smile, “You young people naturally haven’t heard such old superstitions. Truthfully, I don’t fully believe it myself, but as one gets older, the fear of death inevitably creeps in, so a little caution doesn’t hurt. Besides, I’ve never much liked a noisy household, and since we missed each other last time, I figured I’d use the excuse of my birthday to invite you both over for a proper reunion.” He paused, glancing at Cai Liliu, then asked his brother, “I haven’t yet had the pleasure of learning who this young lady is…”

They guessed Old Chu was really asking whether this young woman was human or something else… after all, he knew the two brothers weren’t quite his own kind, and anyone they’d brought along to a gathering like this probably wasn’t entirely ordinary either.

“Her surname is Cai, one of my hired crew members. She has no family here in Yanzhou, so we brought her along. I hope you don’t mind, Old Chu?” his brother replied.

Old Chu looked Cai Liliu over, saying to his brother with some surprise, “I never expected you’d hire a young woman—unusual, certainly, but you must have your reasons.” Then, turning to Cai Liliu with a smile, “Any guest is welcome here—one more young lady only adds to the liveliness.”

Cai Liliu blushed, quickly bowing to Old Chu. “I was rude just now, please don’t take offense, sir.”

“Not at all, not at all. Eat plenty later—you’ll need the strength once you’re back working on the ship.” Old Chu smiled, then called over an elderly steward-looking man. “Is the banquet ready?”

The old man replied, “Yes, sir, everything’s prepared, ready whenever you wish.”

“Ah… has the young master returned?”

“He has, sir, already waiting over there.”

Hearing this, Old Chu’s expression shifted slightly, and he frowned. “That boy’s manners get worse by the day, not even coming to greet our honored guests first!”

The brothers said nothing—a wealthy, accomplished father raising a somewhat unreliable, spoiled son was hardly unusual.

Old Chu stood. “Please, this way, everyone. I hope the modest wine and dishes won’t disappoint.”

Of course they wouldn’t disappoint! Compared to the monotonous fare at sea, Old Chu’s birthday banquet was sure to be the most sumptuous meal they’d had in years.

The banquet was set up in a pavilion in the back garden, surrounded by water on three sides. Late autumn in Yanzhou carried little chill, and sitting in the pavilion felt neither too warm nor too cool, perfectly comfortable. Though the lotus-viewing season had passed, the water still held patches of green lotus leaves, a scene of understated elegance, pleasant to the eye.

Cai Liliu was thoroughly excited, nearly drooling at the table full of delicacies, praising the beautiful scenery repeatedly—she hadn’t seen such lovely lotus leaves in ages.

Unlike her, the brothers weren’t especially fond of dining out here. Dou Mu, born of the deep sea, naturally disliked water on land—rivers, lakes, ponds, even rainwater, none of it appealed to them. They rarely drank water in daily life, nor wine or soup; the few sips of tea earlier had merely been for show. Not that they absolutely couldn’t drink it—a bit of land-water contact wouldn’t hurt—but they had to avoid getting thoroughly soaked, which would force their true forms to surface, so they habitually avoided places with standing water on land. But since Old Chu had already prepared everything, it seemed rude to ask for a change of venue, so they made do, hoping only to finish the meal and leave soon.

Seated right beside Old Chu was young Master Chu, whom they were meeting for the first time. He proved quite courteous toward them, and rather talkative too, saying he’d often heard his father speak of their heroic exploits and admired them greatly—though his father had never allowed him along back then, so he regretted never witnessing it firsthand. After some pleasantries, they found young Master Chu wasn’t nearly as naive as they’d expected—reasonably good-looking too, tall and lean with a refined face, though a scar running down his left cheek to his jaw hinted at a somewhat restless temperament. His silk robe clearly wasn’t cheap, though slightly oversized, making him look even thinner by comparison.

Old Chu scolded his son repeatedly for his lack of manners, not coming to greet the honored guests sooner—though his tone carried not a trace of real anger, more a performative sternness he felt obligated to display despite being unable to truly reprimand him.

“Alright, alright, my fault, please don’t be angry, Father.” Young Master Chu’s face filled with apology, then he turned to them. “I’ve been busy preparing a birthday gift for Father all day, neglecting our honored guests—please don’t take offense.”

“Of course not. What wonderful gift has young Master Chu prepared for his father?” his brother asked with a smile.

“Something extraordinarily precious and meaningful, guaranteed.” Young Master Chu bent down and produced from beneath the table a foot-square carved bronze box, clearly an antique piece by its patina.

Seeing this, Old Chu’s expression dimmed slightly. “You disappeared all morning just for this box?” Having seen countless fine treasures in his time, this unremarkable, worn-looking box hardly seemed valuable, unless whatever lay inside proved unexpectedly special.

“Exactly for this!” Young Master Chu was delighted, even a touch smug, placing the box before his father with an air of mystery. “The box is empty right now—I’ll have you open it later, and I guarantee it’ll be the most unforgettable birthday gift of your entire life!”

Old Chu frowned. “You, child… have you learned some tedious trick from those wandering street performers again? When I open this box later, is a pigeon going to fly out, or a rabbit going to jump out?”

Cai Liliu couldn’t help laughing, chiming in, “Maybe a birthday peach?”

His brother shot her a look, and she quickly clamped her mouth shut.

He was genuinely curious himself—even if it was just some street performer’s trick, he looked forward to it; spending most of his time at sea, he rarely got to see anything as entertaining as a magic trick.

“Father…” Young Master Chu drew out the word with mock grievance. “I guarantee it’s not a pigeon, rabbit, or fish!” Then he grinned smugly at everyone. “You’ll all see soon enough how thoughtful I’ve been!”

“Never a serious bone in that boy.” Old Chu shook his head, raising his cup. “Come, everyone, a toast. I’m truly delighted you could come.”

“We’re honored Old Chu still remembers us,” his brother said, raising his cup with a smile. “Though our tolerance for drink is quite modest—just this one cup. Wishing you great fortune and a long life.”

“One cup is plenty.” Old Chu looked at them, his gaze somewhat unsteady. “I remember you two rarely drink at all. Maintaining such restraint year after year is truly rare.”

“And I wish you good health, and all your wishes fulfilled soon!” He raised his cup too.

Cai Liliu hurried to join in, holding up her cup and murmuring, “I could keep Old Chu company for a few more cups… this wine smells expensive just from the aroma!”

His brother shot her another sharp look, and she quickly bowed her head, dropping the subject of wine.

“And I wish you all your dreams come true too, sir! Come, everyone, drink up!” Young Master Chu led the toast, downing his cup in one go.

Once the cup went down, he felt a warm sensation slowly rise from his chest to his throat, carrying an indescribably sweet fragrance. Cai Liliu was right—this wine was probably quite expensive, and delicious too. If not for fear of his brother’s nagging, he’d have wanted another cup or two.

Seeing their cups empty, Old Chu paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

“Father, what are you spacing out for? Drink up.” Young Master Chu nudged Old Chu. “Are you so happy you forgot to drink your own wine?”

Old Chu snapped back to attention and quickly drank, his hand trembling slightly around the cup.

“You two have been sailing the seas for so many years—any fascinating stories to share?” Young Master Chu asked while picking at dishes. “I’ve been out to sea with Father a few times myself, but never found it especially novel.”

“Life at sea is inherently monotonous, nothing but the same unremarkable things day after day,” his brother said flatly. “Your father’s spent far more time at sea than either of us—perhaps you should ask him instead.”

He suspected his brother felt much the same way he did—having already heard Old Chu describe his son as somewhat unaccomplished, now hearing this young master describe those dangerous, life-risking days at sea in terms of “novel” or “unremarkable” left a distinctly sour taste. In any case, he found himself disliking this young master.

Beside him, Cai Liliu kept her head down, focused entirely on eating, staying out of the conversation.

“I’ve said too much, and now he doesn’t want to hear it either.” Old Chu glanced at his son, then hurried to pile more good dishes into the brothers’ bowls. “Eat more, eat more.”

“That’s because you haven’t gotten to what I actually want to hear, sir.” Young Master Chu poured himself another cup unhurriedly. “Like, for instance, why is it only our family’s ship that can cut through wind and wave, sail safely home no matter how dire the circumstances?”

His brother’s chopsticks, halfway to the bowl, suddenly stopped.

His own heart gave a lurch too.

Old Chu hastily stuffed a mouthful of food into his mouth, mumbling, “Told you already, just good luck… eat, eat, why so much talking!”

But young Master Chu wasn’t done. “Can’t be good luck every single time, though, can it? Father, I’ve heard our ship carries an extra piece of wood that other ships don’t have.”

“What wood… what kind of nonsense gossip have you been listening to…” Old Chu’s mouth was so stuffed with food it was probably the only reason his speech kept slurring.

“It’s fact, not gossip.” Young Master Chu grew increasingly earnest. “I’ve also heard that extra piece of wood on our ship isn’t actually wood at all.”

His brother said nothing, taking another bite of food.

“If it’s not wood, then what is it!” Old Chu struggled to swallow his food. “Why so many questions today! Can’t you just eat your meal quietly?”

The father showed not the slightest hint of parental authority—despite his visibly displeased expression, not a single word he spoke carried any real weight.

Young Master Chu leaned closer to his father, lowering his voice. “They say it’s a demon’s corpse! As long as that thing is aboard, forget fierce winds and rough seas—even sea monsters and demons in the water wouldn’t dare come near.” Without waiting for Old Chu’s response, he immediately turned to the brothers. “Have you two perhaps heard of this treasure as well?”

Cai Liliu, ever honest, chimed in innocently, “Something like that exists? I’ve never heard of it.”

His brother smiled, setting down his chopsticks. “Young Master Chu may have picked up some exaggerated rumor along the way. Old Chu’s years of safe passage aren’t due to luck—they’re due to his diligence and experience, along with a considerate nature that always looks out for his crew. With a captain like that, of course the crew works together as one—hardly something a single piece of wood could accomplish.”

Young Master Chu smiled. “So the two of you, having likewise sailed safely all this time—is that also thanks to something similar?”

“We’re still relatively inexperienced, nowhere near Old Chu’s level—we do rely on luck, honestly.” His brother met his gaze directly, smiling. “We’re quite full now. I think it’s time we took our leave.”

“Oh? You’ve barely eaten anything—was something not to your taste?” Though young Master Chu’s face remained smiling, the sharpness in his eyes could no longer be concealed—or perhaps he no longer wished to conceal it.

A bad premonition suddenly crept up his spine; he only wanted to leave this place immediately.

“Truthfully, the food wasn’t quite to our taste—wasted your thoughtful effort. Next time, allow us to host, and we’ll invite you both to dine with us instead.” His brother clasped his hands in farewell. “We’ll take our leave now.”

“Huh? I’m not even done eating…” Cai Liliu reluctantly set down her bowl.

“I see…” Young Master Chu had no choice but to stand as well, saying apologetically, “If I’d known, I’d have had someone prepare some jiao-dragon meat from the sea—surely that would suit your tastes better?”

A loud buzzing filled his head—it wasn’t fear that Old Chu might reveal their secret to his son, but young Master Chu’s expression itself that was setting off every alarm bell.

His brother gave a cold laugh. “No need for that. Who knows when we’ll meet again—we appreciate young Master Chu’s kind intentions all the same. Let’s go.” He stepped back, glanced once more at Old Chu, said nothing further, and simply gestured for the two of them to leave with him.

What a strange birthday banquet this had turned out to be…

He gave a slight bow toward father and son and was about to follow his brother out when another buzzing sound erupted in his head, this one relentless, unending, and simultaneously a burst of scorching heat exploded within his abdomen, twisting through his organs, unbearable pain following close behind, blurring his sight and hearing in an instant.

“You’ve only just arrived. How could you leave so easily.”

Someone’s voice drifted from far away, vague and muffled, as though sealed inside a jar.

His whole body swung between hot and cold, the world spinning around him, hands grasping wildly for anything to steady his collapsing balance, catching nothing at all. A sudden heavy blow struck his back out of nowhere—a fist, perhaps, or a foot—and in an instant his body no longer obeyed him at all, sent flying weightlessly through the air.

A splash, water spraying everywhere.

He and his brother plunged together into the pond. In an instant, two enormous monstrous shapes surfaced from the churning water, drifting listlessly amid the scattered, torn lotus leaves.

Old Chu remained frozen in his seat, his whole body shaking like a sieve, unable to bring himself to look toward the pond even once.

Cai Liliu had collapsed onto the ground, staring in slack-jawed shock at the massive creatures in the pond, every ounce of strength drained from her body, unable even to stand.

Only young Master Chu remained perfectly composed. He walked over to Old Chu, patted his shoulder, and said with a smile, “Old Chu, this is quite a rare sight—don’t you want to watch?”

“No, no… you go ahead, do what you need to do… I don’t want to watch…” Old Chu shook his head repeatedly, words tumbling out incoherently.

Young Master Chu smiled, casually picking up the bronze box and walking to the pond’s edge. He murmured a string of unintelligible incantations at the box; with a click, the lid sprang open, and amid his unbroken stream of chanting, a strange red glow spilled out, coiling in midair into two rope-like shapes that shot into the water and bound the two beasts before effortlessly hauling them out, sending them flying toward the box. Shockingly, the closer the creatures got to the box, the smaller their bodies became, until, dropping into the box at last, they fit precisely, as though the container had been custom-made for them.

“Done.” Young Master Chu ceased his chanting, glancing down at his prize inside the box with barely contained delight, but not forgetting to push the box toward Old Chu, saying with a smile, “No wonder they say Old Chu’s clever and steady—your performance was truly convincing. Thanks to you, I managed to capture this rare treasure—two of them, no less.”

Old Chu turned his head away, whether unable to bear the sight or unwilling to look at all, and said with a trembling voice, “We had an agreement—I’d help you put on this act, and once it was done, you’d bring my son back safely!”

“I never break my word. Only I can cure your son’s illness.” “Young Master Chu” patted his own chest in assurance, then looked over the two brothers now trapped in the box, praising repeatedly, “Excellent, excellent, two Dou Mu! Which of my worthless senior fellow disciples could ever match this feat—not even my own master managed something like this.”

He threw his head back and laughed heartily.

Meanwhile, Cai Liliu remained frozen on the ground, the same expression fixed on her face, as though turned to stone.

Once he’d finished laughing, he glanced down at this thoroughly terrified woman, eyes glinting with mockery, and crouched down beside her, waving a hand in front of her face. “It’s over now, all done. Time to come back to your senses.”

Cai Liliu took a deep breath, exhaled, repeated the motion several times before finally regaining some awareness, unconsciously clutching her chest, feeling her heart pounding like thunder, murmuring, “How could this be… how could this be… they’re… they’re…”

“Demons. Genuine demons,” he said, looking at her with mock sympathy. “You’re quite lucky, young lady, staying with two such demonic creatures without ever getting eaten.”

“Demons… demons?!” She still seemed reluctant to believe what she’d witnessed. “How could they be demons…”

“Why couldn’t they be demons?” He clicked his tongue a few times. “You clearly have no idea, young lady, just how dangerous this world is, how many demons lurk everywhere.”

She stared blankly at this man’s smug, superior expression. “But they never harmed me.”

“If they meant to harm you, they certainly wouldn’t announce it beforehand. Being around humans always ends badly for demons.” He frowned, standing up, then glanced coldly once more into the box before snapping the lid shut with a click. A flash of red light passed over the box—no one but him would ever be able to open it now.

That sharp click made Cai Liliu’s whole body flinch.

Old Chu said nothing, head hanging low, and after a long silence finally muttered, “Miss Cai, you should go. This has nothing to do with you. Just—once you leave, don’t mention this to anyone.”

Cai Liliu stayed dazed for a good while, and once her strength returned, she slowly climbed to her feet, asking him with a pale face, “Then… may I ask, sir, what will you do with them?”

He smiled slightly. “This demon was a menace alive, but dead, it’ll prove quite useful—could save quite a few lives. I suppose I’ve done a good deed, in a way.”

“Oh…” She nodded numbly. “Good thing you stepped in, sir, or I might have been in danger sooner or later, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Thank you, sir.” She bowed to him. “I’ll be going now. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Off you go.” He waved a hand, smiling. “Frightened little thing.”

She stumbled off on stiff, unsteady legs, hurrying out of the pavilion.

Old Chu remained frozen exactly where he sat, as though welded to his chair.

Seeing the old man in that state, he shook his head, set the bronze box on the table, sat down before the still-abundant spread of food and wine, and poured himself another cup. “Old Chu, once my demon-subduing talisman dissolves in water, it turns sweet—not bad tasting at all, and has absolutely no effect on humans, only strips demons of any ability to fight back. Look at you now, so gloomy—one might think you were a demon yourself.”

“I’m worse off than a demon…” Old Chu still refused to lift his head, curling his body as small as possible, looking as though he’d aged another decade in an instant.

“You’re overthinking this into a corner.” He drank half his cup. “You and I meeting was a tremendous stroke of fate. You’ve dragged your son to seek treatment from every corner—which doctor ever gave you the slightest hope? Only I could turn things around for you. Didn’t you say yourself, back then, that you’d do anything if only I could save your son? I hardly made things difficult for you—all I asked was that you play matchmaker so I could capture these two demons. Think about your son, still so young, your family’s only heir—now he’s saved, and instead of being happy, you sit here looking so despondent. That’s not right, is it.”

Old Chu remained silent for a long while, then suddenly raised a hand and slapped himself. “If only you’d never seen that piece of wood… if only I’d never mentioned those two brothers…”

“Look forward, Old Chu. You’ll soon see your son alive and lively again.” He drained his cup, with a note of contempt for the old man. “Sure, this was mutually beneficial, but any way you look at it, you came out ahead in this deal. After all, at your age, outliving your own child would be far more devastating.”

Hearing this, Old Chu’s fists slowly clenched tight, and he forced words through gritted teeth: “You’d better keep your word.”

“Here, have a drink to steady your nerves. Fine wine shouldn’t go to waste.” He poured Old Chu another cup, handing it to the old man. “Drink up. The great matter’s settled today—tomorrow I’ll begin preparing the medicine to save your son. Within seven days, he’ll be fully cured.”

Old Chu hesitated a moment, then finally accepted the cup, drinking it down with trembling hands. What was done couldn’t be undone—regret was pointless, guilt was pointless. He could only hope the two brothers would understand a desperate father’s efforts to save his own child.

In the pavilion, one man sat smug and satisfied, the other wracked with sorrow.

As the wine jug ran nearly dry, he let out a satisfied burp, glanced at the darkening sky, and said, “Let’s head back.”

Old Chu, face grim, was about to rise when he suddenly spotted a familiar figure hurrying toward them from the far end of the corridor—who else could it be but Cai Liliu… She carried a wooden bucket in her hands, her expression tense, though what exactly had happened remained unclear.

Seeing this, the two of them stood up simultaneously, watching this woman who should have already fled to safety in confusion. She was running faster and faster, yet her hands remained perfectly steady, whatever filled the wooden bucket she carried not spilling a single drop along the way. She said nothing, heading straight for the two of them.

Just a few steps away, the wind shifted, and they suddenly caught a whiff of something distinctly off.

“Miss Cai, what are you…”

Before Old Chu could finish, Cai Liliu flung both hands forward, dousing them from head to toe with a bucketful of yellowish-white substance, the whole motion executed with flawless, practiced speed, giving them no chance whatsoever to dodge.

Neither of them had likely ever endured such a “concentrated” assault in their entire lives—having just eaten so many fine delicacies, holding back the urge to vomit proved simply impossible.

Seizing this opportunity, Cai Liliu summoned the fastest speed of her life, dashing forward to snatch up the bronze box and run. She had no other particular skill, but she could run fast—barring any mishap, she could clear the distance from the pavilion out of the Chu residence in the span of two breaths.

Whatever happened, they had to survive.

But a mishap did occur…

Before she’d even made it out of the corridor, she suddenly lost her balance entirely, pitching forward, the bronze box flying from her grip, lid separating from body as it hit the ground. She sprawled face-down on the ground, feeling a numbness in her right leg; turning to look, she found a dagger buried deep in it, the blood flowing from the wound an inky black.

“Young Master Chu,” now thoroughly disheveled, gritted his teeth and stalked toward her, spitting out the words: “You’re asking to die!”

Uh oh… Cai Liliu didn’t even register the pain, only a wave of killing intent bearing down on her.

At that critical moment, the bronze box rolled several times across the ground, and two pale blue lights shot out from within, landing to form two massive tiger-headed, dragon-bodied beasts, breathing white mist, eyes blazing with fury.

Seeing this, “Young Master Chu” abruptly abandoned his intent to finish off Cai Liliu, muttering a string of words, only to find something wrong, cursing under his breath: “It’s not working!” He immediately staggered back several steps, barely managing a defensive stance, his heart pounding like a war drum, sweat beading on his tense face, mixing with the filth still dripping down him—a truly wretched sight.

Old Chu had already collapsed to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes as he kowtowed frantically toward the two enormous beasts. “My son can’t survive without this… I want to save him… I have to save him… he’s my only son… I didn’t have him until I was nearly fifty… I beg you…”

The two massive beasts paid the pair no mind whatsoever. One lunged forward, seized Cai Liliu carefully in its jaws, and flung her onto its back; the other stood in place, casting one cold glance at Old Chu, before both leapt into the air together and vanished into the gathering dusk.

Autumn in Yanzhou had never felt this cold before tonight.

7

Several days later, Chang’an.

A bitter medicinal smell drifted through an old residence on the outskirts of the city. He sat in the courtyard, a fan in hand, carefully monitoring the charcoal stove’s heat, terrified of anything going wrong with the medicine simmering in the pot.

The physician was the finest in all of Chang’an—years ago, through a chance encounter at sea, he’d owed his life to the two brothers, and upon parting, had left them the address of his own clinic, saying that should they ever need his help for anything, they need only come find him.

But what use could a Dou Mu possibly have for human medical treatment… He’d assumed there’d never be occasion to meet again in this lifetime, yet here they were.

The physician had worked through an entire sleepless night, saving Cai Liliu’s life—but not her right leg.

The dagger had been poisoned; if the two brothers hadn’t flown fast enough, covering the distance from Yanzhou to Chang’an to find the physician in the shortest possible time, Cai Liliu would have lost far more than just a leg—she’d have lost her life entirely.

The old residence, too, had been lent to them by the physician for her recovery; the medicine came from him as well, and how to properly brew it, he’d taught them too. He felt fortunate now that he hadn’t stood idly by all those years ago when the physician had been in danger.

He straightened up and glanced through the half-open window into the room—Cai Liliu was still fast asleep. She hadn’t woken once in these past few days, only murmuring faintly whenever the physician changed her bandages. The physician had said the medicine included something to calm her spirit; the wound hurt most in the first few days, and sleeping through it would help.

Chang’an was much colder than Yanzhou, so he’d placed two braziers in her room, burning day and night, hoping Cai Liliu could sleep more comfortably. He himself stayed up through the nights too, watching to keep the fires from dying out while also constantly checking that the room stayed properly ventilated, terrified something might still go wrong.

He lowered his head, fanning the stove gently, the medicinal broth in the pot bubbling softly. He listened, half-lost in thought, his heart tangled in inexplicable conflict—he longed for her to recover quickly and wake up, yet dreaded her waking too… such a vibrant, energetic person, how would she face a future without one of her legs…

Across the courtyard, his brother sat at a stone table, knife in hand, whittling away methodically at a wooden crutch.

“She probably won’t need that anytime soon.” He glanced at his brother—these past few days, he’d been the one caring for Cai Liliu, while his brother hadn’t paid much attention, often wandering off elsewhere, but this morning he’d dragged back a piece of wood and sat there whittling it for half the morning.

“She’ll need it eventually.” His brother blew away the wood shavings, set the crutch down to test its height, then added rather casually, “I’d thought taking her in might turn out to be a mistake. Turns out it wasn’t.” He leaned on the crutch, glancing toward the inner room, chuckling faintly. “‘Young Master Chu’ probably never imagined in his wildest dreams that his spell would be broken by an ordinary mortal girl, and by such a crude, brute-force method too… it’s rather funny, thinking back on it.”

“You can still laugh about this…” His expression darkened. “She could have simply not come back.”

“I’m not laughing at her.” His brother shook his head. “You’re the sentimental one here.”

He sighed. “What’s she supposed to do now… why did she even dare run back? She’d clearly already seen what we really are.”

“What else can she do—you two will just take care of her for the rest of her life!” A disdainful voice drifted out from the window.

The bear-head, which hadn’t emerged once since the incident, drifted out at a leisurely pace, settling by the stove, shifting through various positions to soak up the warmth of the coals.

Strange, really—given its usual foul-mouthed temperament, one might expect it to be furious over what had happened to Cai Liliu, yet it showed not the slightest trace of anger.

“You still have the nerve to say that?” Seeing its relaxed demeanor only stirred a bit of resentment in him, and he blurted out without thinking, “You were right there beside her—why didn’t you stop her from coming back during that critical moment!”

The bear-head rolled its eyes. “She hurt her leg, and you hurt your head? Have you forgotten ordinary humans can neither see nor hear me? If I could have stopped that foolish woman, do you think she’d be lying here right now? You two said it yourselves—I’m a completely useless little bone. You weren’t wrong.”

“You…” He choked, unable to argue—what it said was true enough.

“How would an ordinary person like her know a method like that to save us?” His brother sat down, seeming unsatisfied with the crutch, continuing to refine it. “You were with her the whole time—surely you know the reason?”

“That’s all thanks to the old Daoist who saved her years ago.” It peered over to check how the medicine in the pot was coming along. “While she was recovering in that run-down Daoist temple, besides helping the old man with chores, she pestered him daily to teach her techniques for subduing demons and evil spirits, saying it might help her escape if she ever ran into one someday… Never mind whether that old Daoist had any real skill beyond cooking and brewing soup—even if he did, would he really teach something like that to this fool?! But she was simply too persistent, and the old Daoist, probably worn down by her nagging, finally told her: if you ever encounter a demon or someone with malicious intent using dark arts to harm you, just douse them with that yellow-white substance—guaranteed to break the spell, works every single time! The old Daoist said it with such conviction that she actually believed him.” It drooped its eyelids dejectedly. “You tell me—did that old Daoist save her, or doom her?”

He listened, utterly stunned. “That’s it? And she really believed it?”

“But as it turns out, the old Daoist wasn’t lying after all.” It shot him a glare. “Otherwise the two of you might right now be mounted on some ship’s bow, riding the waves for eternity.”

His brother gave a cold laugh. “Even if every Dou Mu in the entire sea got mounted on ships, whoever deserved to die would find their end somewhere else, if not there.”

An image of Old Chu’s face surfaced in his mind, oddly enough. He felt no real hatred toward the old man, only a chilling emptiness in his chest—a man who’d once been willing to sacrifice his own life rather than harm the innocent… it was precisely because he’d been that kind of person that they’d trusted him completely, with no guard up whatsoever, even feeling genuine, uncomplicated joy at reuniting with an old friend while choosing his birthday gift… Perhaps his son truly meant that much to him—enough to overturn everything he’d once stood for.

“So it seems we actually owe that careless old Daoist our thanks.” He gave a bitter laugh. “If he hadn’t taught his ‘disciple’ that trick, we might really have ended up mounted on some ship’s bow.”

“It’s not just her foolish luck—it’s ours too.” His brother’s gaze drifted along the blade of his knife. “The old Daoist wasn’t entirely wrong—the method really does work, but it can only break the spellwork of someone still fairly green, not yet deeply cultivated. That ‘Young Master Chu,’ whatever school or sect he came from, had more bluster than actual skill—impressive-looking on the surface, but ultimately just a few cheap tricks. If we hadn’t trusted Old Chu completely, without a shred of suspicion, we wouldn’t have fallen for his scheme in the first place.” He tested the crutch’s smoothness with his hand. “Though, if he’d had a bit more cultivation, a bit less arrogance, Cai Liliu could have dumped the contents of every outhouse in Yanzhou on him and it still wouldn’t have done any good. This time, count it as pure luck amid misfortune—a blind cat stumbling onto a dead mouse.”

Hearing this only deepened his sorrow. “We got lucky amid misfortune, but she paid such a heavy price…”

“Maybe suffering is simply her fate in this life.” The bear-head said indifferently. “Since the day I first met her, I’ve never once seen her have an easy day.”

“She treasures you like a precious thing.” He glanced at it.

It paused, then said, “I know. If it weren’t for me, she’d have died falling at seventeen.”

Both brothers turned to look at it in unison.

“The mute boy buried me in a cave in the hills behind the residence. After I transformed into my second body, I found that cave quite pleasant—having seen so much of the mortal world’s bustle and noise, finding this kind of peace and quiet was genuinely comfortable.” It spoke unhurriedly. “Don’t be too shocked when I tell you this, but while my second body has no other abilities to speak of, it can eat people.”

Hearing this, both brothers wore identical expressions of disbelief.

“Humans may be weak, but they’re the natural pinnacle of all living things. As long as I consume even a single living person, I can return to my first body’s state.” It looked thoroughly pleased with itself. “This ability to hide life within death—no other demon in this world possesses anything quite like it, I’d wager.”

“No wonder you called Cai Liliu your food…” Yet he still couldn’t quite believe it. “Then why have you remained like this all these years?”

“Why would I want to return to my first body?” It shot back, entirely self-assured. “Get caught in another cage? Suffer through hunger and deprivation all over again? A state that requires no food or drink to sustain isn’t nearly as terrible as you’d think—quite the opposite, it’s rather relaxing. So I simply decided to stay in that cave and sleep well, then decide where to go once I’d rested enough.” It turned to glance toward the window. “Who would have guessed I’d end up sleeping for several decades straight—if this fool hadn’t stepped on me by accident, I’d have slept at least another hundred years easily.”

“How did she end up in the cave where you were hiding?” he asked, puzzled. “That should have been an uninhabited, desolate place, shouldn’t it?”

“Fled there, obviously.” It said. “She ran all the way from her home in the western part of Huanzhou to the wild hills in the east. It was only once I emerged that I learned that old official’s residence had already fallen into ruins, nothing around for miles but overgrown weeds, trees, wild beasts, and birds—not another soul in sight. When she stumbled into that cave, her face was covered in cuts, one shoe already lost, though she still managed to step on me with considerable force. I’d just woken up, still dazed, and lost control of a burst of demonic energy, lighting up unexpectedly… She was utterly astonished, thinking she’d stumbled upon some glowing treasure. I was rather annoyed at first, thinking well, might as well make her the meal heaven’s sent me… but before I could even speak, she scooped me up, sat down on the ground, and started crying. Crying, then laughing through her tears, telling me that if she could just turn into a pile of bare bones lying here like me, that would honestly be a blessing too. I thought this human had something seriously wrong with her… suddenly lost all appetite for eating her.” It recalled the memory carefully, unwilling to skip a single detail. “Not sure how much time passed before someone started calling her name from outside the cave, a man’s voice. The moment she heard it, she shuddered and, without a second thought, ran deeper into the cave. That cave’s terrain was complicated, several deep fissures scattered throughout—lucky for her she was holding onto me, or stumbling around blindly in the dark, she really might have gotten her wish and ended up a pile of bones after all.” It snorted. “All because of that man outside—if he hadn’t driven Cai Liliu into my cave, I’d still be living my comfortable, peaceful life.”

“Who was it?” he asked quickly.

“Her husband, of course.” It settled onto the windowsill, enjoying the warmth radiating from inside the room. “That man wasn’t just calling her name—he kept apologizing too, saying he’d been wrong, promising he’d never drink again, never hit her again. I assumed she’d just stay hidden in the cave waiting for him to leave, but then the man mentioned her father was out searching for her too, that the old man had even twisted his ankle in the process—and that’s when she couldn’t hide anymore. After hesitating for quite a while, she finally stepped out of the cave, tucking me into her pocket along with her. I figured, well, I’m already awake, and it’s been ages since I’ve had a proper look outside, so I might as well go along with what she wanted, playing the role of the glowing treasure she thought I was, for the time being.”

“And you’ve kept it up until now?!” His brother laughed. “From seventeen years old until now… you’ve certainly shown remarkable patience.”

“There have been moments I nearly lost it.” It gazed at Cai Liliu’s sleeping face through the window. “Besides the mute boy, she’s the person I’ve grown closest to. Through her, I learned what ordinary human life on the streets actually looks like. At first I assumed she and her husband were simply having a marital spat, that her quick temper had driven her to run off—after all, the day she returned home, her husband kept apologizing, bringing her tea, even smashing several wine jugs, swearing he’d never touch a drop again. I thought this woman was rather petty too, running away from home just because her husband had a few drinks. Thinking it over, I decided to stay—since I was awake already, I might as well see what other kinds of drama humans could get up to. I’d seen plenty of life in grand palaces before; the ordinary lives of common folk turned out to be far more fascinating.” Its expression of ease grew increasingly forced. “She tied me on a cord to wear as a necklace, and I was happy enough to play along and amuse her, lighting up whenever we were in the dark, letting her treasure me all the more. Every day she got up before dawn, prepared breakfast, then washed and hung out laundry, went to buy groceries, and once home, besides cleaning the house, she’d also weave simple bamboo items in her spare time to sell for extra money. Before her husband came home each day, she always had a steaming hot dinner ready. Every one of her days followed the same repetitive, regimented rhythm. I rarely heard her complain, never once heard her say she was tired—only, whenever she passed some brightly dressed young women on the street, she’d occasionally turn to look back, an expression of envy crossing her face. She almost never bought rouge or powder for herself; the single box of rouge she owned stayed carefully tucked away in the wardrobe, never used in daily life—I only ever saw her take it out when her husband wasn’t home, dab a bit onto her cheeks, glance in the mirror, then quickly wipe it clean again. I thought there was something wrong with her again… Until one day her husband came home, complaining over dinner about some neighbor’s wife who dressed herself up like a demon every day even though her husband wasn’t even home, who knew who she was dressing up for—not exactly a woman who kept to her proper place, he said, since a married woman ought to focus her mind entirely on caring for the household, that’s what being virtuous meant. Hearing this, she simply lowered her head and kept eating.”

Listening to this made him uncomfortable, and he murmured, “This doesn’t sound like the woman I know at all…”

“Her industrious nature was much the same as it is now—the floors at home were polished like mirrors.” It smiled faintly. “Anyway, that box of rouge dried up and caked over, never used again. Her husband’s surname was Xiao—stocky, sturdy build, full beard, knew a few characters, had some modest family property, but no proper trade of his own; just did odd jobs around town, though what he loved most was being called ‘Boss Xiao.’ Arrogant and a bit of a philanderer too—wouldn’t hesitate to visit the pleasure quarters whenever he’d earned a bit of money. She knew, but never said anything. Occasionally her father would come visit, and what he said most often was to urge her to take good care of her husband, saying that given the Cai family’s modest circumstances, marrying into a household like this was an enormous stroke of fortune, that she absolutely must fulfill her duties as a wife properly, bear children soon, be a virtuous wife and loving mother. The old man repeated the same things every single time, tiresome even to me by the end.” It furrowed its brow. “Pity he never knew—his daughter genuinely did want to be a virtuous wife and mother too, but that required actually being allowed to live long enough to do it!”

“What do you mean?” His heart tightened.

“That time she fled to the cave wasn’t the first time she’d been beaten.” It sighed. “Old Xiao managed to keep up appearances in front of others, but back home, it never took him long to show his true colors. When he wasn’t drinking, he was tolerable enough, at worst spewing crude remarks. But once he’d been drinking, Cai Liliu became his natural punching bag—the slightest thing displeasing him, and depending on his mood, it might mean a beating, or it might mean a knife. And what counted as ‘displeasing’ to him could be something as trivial as her wiping his face a touch too roughly, or offering a gentle word suggesting he drink less next time… In short, whenever he felt the urge to hit her, even her breathing became an offense. The neighbors, seeing her bruised and battered, never thought much of it—just a wife punished by her husband for some misstep, that’s how everyone got through life back then. After every beating, Old Xiao would treat her decently for a few days, but before long he’d fall right back into old patterns, and her days cycled through this same anxious, fearful pattern over and over. When the suffering truly became unbearable, she’d occasionally pour her heart out to close friends, but all the comfort she ever received was, ‘Just endure it, it’ll pass—if not for this man supporting you, you might not even have food to eat.’ In short, ten thousand different people, in ten thousand different ways, all told her the same thing: this is simply your fate. Eventually, she stopped telling anyone at all. When the pain became truly unbearable, she’d slip off somewhere no one could see her and cry alone, then return to cooking and washing once she’d finished.”

His fists had clenched tight without him even realizing, and he frowned. “And you never once dealt with that man?”

“Eat him, you mean?” It pursed its lips. “I did consider it. But then I thought about it further—if I ate him, would that actually fix things for Cai Liliu? She was the one who chose to stay in that cage for the sake of a meal, in her own way—why should I bother interfering unnecessarily?”

“That, at least, is honest,” his brother interjected.

“What kind of talk is that from you two!” he protested, displeased. “She didn’t have any choice either! For a woman alone to carve out any kind of decent life in this world—do you have any idea how hard that is!”

“It is hard. Terribly hard.” Its gaze shifted from Cai Liliu’s face down to her leg, the blanket noticeably flat where it should have curved. “Besides home and the market, her favorite place to visit in her spare time was a small private school not far from home, because a schoolteacher there had bought several bamboo items from her, becoming something of a familiar face to her. The teacher was from out of town, remarkably good-tempered, and always praised her weaving as both skillful and sturdy, and reasonably priced too. Delivering goods to the school became the happiest part of her day—once the delivery was done, she’d linger, reluctant to leave, crouching outside the window to listen to the teacher’s lessons, utterly absorbed. She once told the teacher that though she knew few characters herself, listening to his lessons taught her things she’d never hear at home or in the market. Amused and touched by her eagerness to learn, the teacher began teaching her to read and write for free during his spare time, often giving her brush and paper as gifts, which she treasured like precious jewels. Whenever Old Xiao was away, she’d scrape together whatever time she could to practice her characters and study, and she had a decent aptitude for it, gradually able to read an entire book cover to cover, her handwriting growing hundreds of times more beautiful than Old Xiao’s ever was. I remember the four characters she wrote most often were… ‘a frog sitting at the bottom of a well surveying the sky’—yes, that phrase exactly. One time, the teacher was explaining this idiom to his students, and she listened with rapt attention; after she’d already left, she turned back and asked the teacher, if the frog could climb out of the well, what would happen then? The teacher said, it might die, or it might see the ocean. After that, she seemed almost obsessed with that phrase, writing it out again and again.” It recalled every small detail of her life with great care, unwilling to leave anything out. “Until the day Old Xiao discovered the books she’d been secretly hiding in a corner. He flew into a rage, scolding her for neglecting her proper duties—no wonder the meals had been getting worse lately, turned out she’d been wasting her mind on this kind of nonsense. What use was reading and writing for a woman, anyway? Washing, cooking, running the household—that was a woman’s proper business! He tore up every single one of her books, then stormed to the school itself, accusing the teacher of using his lessons as cover to seduce a married woman, and, emboldened by drink, actually beat the man. That day, I watched her standing in the schoolyard, her face white as paper, fists clenched, her whole body shaking. Once Old Xiao dragged her home, she suffered the worst beating I’d ever witnessed—he struck her while accusing her of harboring impure thoughts, of having taken a liking to that schoolteacher, said it was shameless enough that she couldn’t even bear him a child, look at the Chen family next door, five children already this year, even a hen that lays eggs is worth more than you… in short, however brutal the blow, however vile the insult, he spared nothing. This time, though, she made no sound at all, didn’t shed a single tear.”

His hands had long since clenched into fists, and he could only regret not having been there himself.

“That poor teacher, what terrible luck…” His brother finished smoothing the last rough edges of the crutch, nearly done with it now.

“Tell me about it. Not long after, the teacher left Huanzhou entirely.” Its gaze returned to Cai Liliu’s face. “And she left too. Years of accumulated endurance finally erupted into one thoroughly rebellious divorce letter—she divorced Old Xiao. Hahaha, shame I never got to see the look on Old Xiao’s face when he read it, probably twisted with rage. At first she had no idea where to go, but hearing that the south was nice, she simply headed south without much of a plan. But the little bit of travel money she carried ran out before long, and to survive, she took on any work she could find—kitchen help, dishwashing, childcare, weaving, none of it beneath her. She set up street stalls writing letters for people, worked as a helper in painting shops, an assistant in tailor shops, even dared to tell fortunes for a few coppers.” It sounded increasingly amused as it spoke. “Honestly, she didn’t know how to do most of these things at first, but she had thick skin and was remarkably persistent, willing to work for free if only someone would teach her a skill—look, she even wore down that old Daoist until he gave in. She said even a flea, small as it is, is still meat—even skills others looked down on, if you accumulated enough of them, kept you from starving. Bit by bit, she really did pick up quite a few odd little skills. Not exactly a good life, but at least enough to scrape by on. During these years wandering on her own, Old Xiao tried every which way to find her at first, but she always managed to evade him. Eventually he seemed to give up, but she was left with a lasting habit—any man who even resembled Old Xiao, she’d instinctively hide from. Maybe she’s right that it’ll fade in a few more years.” It sighed. “All these years, she’s endured plenty of hardship, but she always seemed to accept it willingly, never once acting wronged. Maybe deep down she’s always been thinking of that frog who climbed out of the well—it might die, or it might see the ocean. She said, since she’d never seen what the sea looked like in this life, and she was still alive, why not go find out? Someone told her Yanzhou had the most beautiful ocean views, so she made that her destination, heading steadily south.”

It drifted upward, turning to look directly at the two brothers. “Meeting you two, I suppose, counts as her getting what she wished for.”

So this was the first half of an ordinary woman’s life?

No dramatic rises or falls, nothing especially heart-stopping—but all the frost and hardship she’d endured through those years seemed to settle onto him now, carried along with the bitter scent rising from the simmering medicine.

But now that she’d met them… had she truly gotten what she wished for?

He didn’t dare imagine what she’d look like once she woke up.

“Still not going to eat her?” his brother suddenly asked. “She’s got absolutely no capacity to resist right now, would be especially convenient to eat.”

“Brother!” he snapped, annoyed. “What kind of thing is that to say!”

“It said so itself—Cai Liliu is its food.” His brother looked entirely innocent.

It burst out laughing, looking at his brother. “A demon with a personality like yours, I don’t mind at all—at least you stay clear-headed no matter what.” It turned to look toward the room, its face taking on an expression of gentleness it had never shown before. “I’ve thought about it for years and still can’t find any real advantage in returning to my first body. I think I’ll just stay as I am.”

He froze, sensing something was off about its response.

“Ever since I came to the human realm, my whole existence has been rather absurd. Killing a few lions in a cage earned me people’s worship; then, to save someone else’s life, that worship vanished just as quickly, and my flesh and blood got tossed into a soup pot without a second thought. In this second body, I can outlive any other demon, yet I don’t even have the power to slap either of you. This meaningless immortality… doesn’t seem worth much more than a lump of charcoal that can warm someone or simmer their soup.” It stared at the two of them, then tilted its chin toward the room. “Never let her know that a demon stayed by her side all these years.”

“What are you planning to do?” He stood up, feeling suddenly tense.

Before he’d even finished speaking, it shot instantly into the room, settling onto Cai Liliu, rolling its eyes at him in its usual manner. “I’ve traveled far too little in my life. Might as well travel a bit more from now on.”

“Wait—hold on!”

He turned and rushed into the room, but by the time he burst inside, Heaven’s Iron had vanished entirely without a trace—only a swirl of silver-white light circled around Cai Liliu’s right leg, spinning and shimmering, as brilliant as the Milky Way itself, illuminating the entire room into another world altogether, like some fairyland, more like a dream that had actually come true.

His brother glanced over, stood up, tapped the crutch against the ground once, and said with a note of regret, “Guess this won’t be needed after all…”

A few glimmering droplets drifted down from the air, whether rain or unseasonably early snow, he couldn’t tell.

The medicinal broth in the pot kept bubbling softly, its bitter scent slowly dispersing into the rising cold wind…

8

A year later, out at sea.

The familiar charcoal stove burned bright red, a pot of hot soup steaming with a sweet fragrance.

The early summer sea breeze was cool and crisp, their ship sailing at a steady pace through unfamiliar waters, the sunlit sea a blue as perfect as a polished gem.

The deck buzzed with activity—among the newly recruited crew were a few martial enthusiasts, admiring yet competitive with one another, often sparring together for fun, the losers getting a turtle drawn on their face, adding no small amusement to the otherwise monotonous life at sea.

Cai Liliu sat among the crowd, cheering enthusiastically for her most admired “master.” Two fighters exchanged blow after blow in the ring, the outcome still uncertain.

Her particular quirk had apparently never faded—when someone had firmly refused to take her on as a student, she’d nonetheless found endless reasons to convince him he simply must teach her some fighting skills, arguing that even if she couldn’t beat anyone, at least she could use it to escape danger, and having many skills never hurt, and besides, a hundred years of fated companionship on the same ship surely earned this kind of teacher-student bond too… In any case, he’d never before seen anyone apply that saying about shipboard fate to quite this purpose… The crew member, worn down by her persistence and dreading being nagged endlessly, had finally agreed to teach her some basic self-defense.

He watched her from a distance—this one, always so cheerfully full of energy, every single day.

She had no idea her leg had ever been broken at all; she simply believed she’d suffered an ordinary injury.

It was only once she’d fully regained consciousness that she discovered the bone she’d worn around her neck for years was gone. She’d assumed it had been lost when she was stabbed and fell, feeling quite heartbroken about it, but eventually consoled herself that their fated connection must have simply run its course—perhaps that small glowing bone had been some kind of divine treasure all along, never meant to stay permanently with a mere mortal like herself. Since it had gone, she wished it well on its journey ahead.

Following Heaven’s Iron’s instructions, they never breathed a single word of it to her, from beginning to end.

That “useless little bone” had drifted through their lives like a passing breeze—arriving suddenly, vanishing again without a trace.

The night before leaving Chang’an, Cai Liliu had prepared a whole table of good dishes, saying it was to thank them for taking care of her.

“You clearly saw what we really are.” His brother hadn’t touched his chopsticks.

“Yes, I saw.” Cai Liliu sat down, looking at them openly, without hesitation.

“Aren’t you afraid?” his brother asked again.

“Having experienced someone as terrible as that man, what’s there left to fear about demons?” She smiled.

He fell silent a moment, then said, “We know about your past. From Huanzhou to Yanzhou, we know everything you went through.”

“Oh? Because of your demonic powers?” She seemed slightly surprised, then quickly settled into acceptance. “Must be. You two do seem quite formidable. If it weren’t for that moment of carelessness, you’d surely never have been caught.”

She wasn’t flattering them—she meant it sincerely, not mentioning at all how she’d nearly lost her own life for their sake.

“You’re completely different from before,” he said.

She thought it over, then nodded. “I think so too.” She poured them wine, murmuring almost to herself, “My mother died not long after I was born. My father raised me alone, in difficult circumstances. I married into the Xiao family at sixteen—from the betrothal to the wedding, I never once saw what he even looked like. My father said his family was well-off, that I’d never lack for food or comfort marrying into it, so I said yes. I couldn’t afford to have any reservations—growing up, what I feared most was my father’s heavy sighs, most of all him saying that having a daughter was worse than having no child at all… If marrying off could bring him peace and happiness, then I would marry. At first, I was genuinely willing to be ‘Xiao’s wife, née Cai,’ forever—washing clothes, cooking meals, treating my husband as my whole world. I’d seen enough of the people around me living exactly this way, everyone accepted it as simply how life went. But…” Her usually bright eyes dimmed suddenly, and she continued, “But I truly didn’t know what else I could possibly do to avoid angering him, to stop myself from having to dodge his fists, even his blade, just to survive each day. Every time I hid in some corner and cried, it wasn’t the physical pain of my wounds that made me cry—it was the sudden realization that my future stretched ahead as nothing but endless, bottomless despair, no matter how hard I tried, how much I endured, how little I complained. The farthest I’d ever traveled, before all this, was to a cave in some wild mountains, where I found that little bone. It glowed so beautifully. Bedraggled and filthy as I was, I realized even a lifeless bone had more light to it than I did—every single one of my days, whether by daylight or dark, held not a single spark of light at all.”

“Was there light once you climbed out of the well?” His brother’s tone carried a teasing edge.

She paused, then laughed. “Yes. From north to south, everything I encountered along the way might look to others like unbearable exhaustion and suffering they couldn’t possibly understand, but to me, none of it felt painful, none of it felt bitter.”

“Then what were they, to you?” his brother asked, smiling.

“My whole life had always been something being ruthlessly ‘taken away’ from me. Everything I’m doing now is just to take it back. Since I’d already climbed out of the well and hadn’t died yet, I figured, why not try walking as far as I possibly could, go see just how vast an ocean I’d never seen before could really be.” She smiled, raising her cup. “I can wash clothes and cook rice, but my whole life cannot be only washing clothes and cooking rice. Even aboard your ship, what I can do isn’t limited to scrubbing floors, is it.”

He exchanged a glance with his brother—what else was there left to say? She’d already made herself perfectly clear.

From now on, there would probably never again be any reason to try to put her ashore.

“Here’s hoping you’ll keep our ship even cleaner in the future! Cheers!”

“Here’s hoping your cooking keeps getting better and better! Cheers!”

…

A hand suddenly waved in front of his face, snapping him out of his brief daze.

Under the bright sunlight, Cai Liliu, her face painted with three turtles, stared at him oddly. “The soup’s about to boil dry, what are you spacing out for?”

He looked down—indeed, only half a pot of soup remained. He quickly added a ladle of water.

“This fish soup is delicious, you know, I tried out so many different spice combinations before settling on this recipe, you’d better not waste it.” She sat down, carefully stirring the broth.

“Your master lost again?” he asked, amused. “Made his disciple draw the turtle on his behalf again?”

“Win or lose is just part of the game.” She said dismissively. “The master I chose would never betray his own school.”

“What new moves have you been learning lately?”

“Sweeping leg kick!”

“Doesn’t sound like it particularly suits you…”

“It suits me perfectly! You have no idea—my master says my right leg has natural, extraordinary strength, that when I sweep it, the force is even greater than his own!”

“Oh, is that so. Truly a gift from heaven, then.”

“That’s exactly what I think too. Ah, they’re about to start another round, I’ll head over.”

He watched her bouncing, energetic figure walk away, his gaze fixed on her right leg. He believed completely in her leg’s “natural, extraordinary strength”—after all, that leg carried within it a fragment of Heaven’s Iron bone, destined to accompany her for the rest of her life.

Just then, his brother’s voice rang out: “Something’s ahead—everyone, stay alert!”

“Yes, sir!”

Everyone immediately dropped their playful mood, swiftly returning to their positions, ready and alert to face whatever danger might come.

The suddenly accelerating ship sliced fiercely through the calm sea surface, forging ahead without a trace of fear.

Epilogue

In a simple wooden cabin, Tao Yao and Dou Mu sat facing each other, the tea on the table between them nearly gone cold.

She let out a sigh. “What a shame.”

“Shame?” He didn’t understand.

“That second body of Heaven’s Iron was exactly the miracle cure I’ve been searching for all these years!” She looked utterly pained. “It can regenerate any creature’s flesh and bone—even reduced to just a head, it could have grown an entire complete body from Heaven’s Iron material, granting someone extraordinary strength for the rest of their life, able to take so many more punches in a fight! What a waste, letting that girl have it! Such a shame, such a terrible, terrible shame!”

This woman, truly never able to go three sentences without bringing up her trade… He let his eyelids droop. “That was its own decision to make.”

“I know that.” Tao Yao pursed her lips. “If it hadn’t wanted to, no one could have used it anyway. Cai Liliu got that bone—must have done quite a lot for you two with it, right?”

“Everyone was amazed that such a small woman had more strength than most men. Her master taught her well too—not exactly top-tier martial arts, but more than enough to make her our right hand. You should have seen her dive into the sea and take down a man-eating fish, absolutely terrifying.” He couldn’t help but laugh, the memory still vivid, as though it had happened only yesterday. “Not only could she fight pirates to the death, she even wrestled an octopus once…”

“She probably didn’t live to a very old age, though…” Tao Yao scratched her nose.

He shook his head. “She lived to eighty-two, passed away peacefully in her sleep. Per her wishes, we cremated her and scattered her ashes into the sea.”

“Eighty-two…” Tao Yao laughed. “That’s actually a pretty long life. Heaven’s Iron didn’t come out too badly from the deal after all.”

Bringing up that bone reminded him of something; he thought it over, then stood and went into the inner room, returning shortly after with a small wooden box, which he set before Tao Yao and opened. A small, dusty gray bone fragment lay nestled inside soft silk.

“Found it in Cai Liliu’s ashes,” he said. “Can’t be smashed, can’t be burned. But no other reaction at all, not even a glow. I don’t understand this state—is it dead, or…?”

“Not quite dead, but might as well be.” Tao Yao said bluntly. “Heaven’s Iron’s second body may be indestructible and undying, but if it becomes bone for someone else, it permanently gives up any chance of ever returning to its first body. Once the host it’s bound to dies, it loses all its remaining spirit and essence too—not quite reduced to ash and nothingness, it’ll still leave behind a husk, but a useless one at that.” She patted Dou Mu’s shoulder. “Keep it as a memento.”

He looked rather disappointed, murmuring, “I’d thought there might still be some way to turn things around…”

“It already found its own turning point—what more turning point does it need?” Tao Yao smiled. “Didn’t it say so itself? Wanting to travel more from now on—well, it did travel for several decades, didn’t it? That’s plenty.” She closed the lid. “Those decades were probably its proudest, happiest ones.”

He looked at the box, giving a wry smile. “Let’s hope so.”

Tao Yao’s puzzled gaze landed on his face. “It found its own ‘turning point,’ and Cai Liliu found hers too—what about you? A perfectly good Dou Mu, and somehow you end up ashore, working as a charcoal seller of all things? Do you realize staying on land long-term isn’t exactly good for your lifespan?”

“After Cai Liliu left, I won’t pretend I wasn’t sad about it. She’d always treated our ship as her home, treated us as her family. Without her, the ship grew a lot quieter. Feeling melancholy, I went ashore alone for a few days to clear my head. It happened to coincide with a once-in-a-century snow disaster—countless people in the city froze to death, and charcoal became lifesaving, desperately scarce.” His expression turned heavy.

“And then?” she asked.

He extended a finger and, with a slight application of force, tapped it against the teacup; the perfectly good white porcelain cup instantly began transforming from its base, rapidly turning into a wooden cup.

Realization dawned on Tao Yao. “Ah, I nearly forgot—you have the innate wood-transformation technique.”

“Right, and honestly, it’s always struck me as odd—we’re born in the deep sea, shaped like dragons and tigers, yet when we die, of all things, we turn into a piece of wood. Everyone else gets gold-transformation techniques, but we ended up with wood-transformation instead—utterly useless in daily life. Transform gold and you can buy things; what good is transforming wood?” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “But that one time, I finally found it useful. I turned every stone outside the city into wood—couldn’t fix the whole crisis, of course, but it saved a good number of lives all the same. That was also when I finally understood why Cai Liliu had always been so obsessed with stockpiling charcoal—because it was the hope that kept people alive.”

“And that’s why you moved ashore?” Tao Yao clicked her tongue, looking around at this humble little dwelling. “You were once an overlord of the sea… and you’re content living like this? That’s remarkably easygoing of you.”

“It’s been over a hundred years now.” He smiled. “When I first told my brother I wanted to leave the sea for land, his expression looked exactly like yours does right now. He thought I’d lost my mind.”

“Sounds like a genuinely rare ailment.” Tao Yao pointed at her own head. “Probably some kind of psychotic break. Want me to check your pulse while I’m here?”

“No need! I’m not sick!” He recoiled in alarm, quickly refusing. “I have no interest in becoming one of your medicine experiments!”

Tao Yao scoffed.

“Hunting for food day after day at sea, fighting endlessly, watching vicious jiao-dragons get torn apart, blood and flesh, by our own hands,” he said seriously, “if simply surviving was the only goal, my brother and I already achieved that long ago.”

Tao Yao nodded. “So?”

“I can kill sea monsters and vicious jiao-dragons, but my whole life cannot be only killing sea monsters and vicious jiao-dragons.” He smiled. “I wanted to bring something more back for the rest of my own life too.”

Tao Yao smiled, then rolled her eyes right after. “Then go get it yourself! Why come mooch off the Bureau residence!”

“I’m not mooching!” he protested quickly. “I do have the wood-transformation technique, sure, but my demonic power is limited too—every winter the charcoal shortage is severe, and what I can manage on my own isn’t enough. Getting some help from others seems reasonable enough, doesn’t it? Housekeeper Miao is generous and open-hearted, willing to help me—why should I refuse? How does that become ‘mooching’ the moment you show up?!”

Tao Yao snorted, saying nothing further.

“Though I genuinely can’t understand how the great and mighty Lady Tao Yao ended up wronging herself, working as some minor servant in someone else’s household… you accuse me of psychotic delusion, but aren’t you just as bad?” Unable to bear hearing the word “mooching,” he was determined to fire back at Tao Yao even at the risk of his life.

Tao Yao’s face flashed with anger, and she slapped the table. “I obviously have my own reasons!”

“So do I,” he said, jutting his chin stubbornly.

“Whatever you say!” Tao Yao crossed her arms, declaring solemnly, “Just don’t let me catch you doing anything I can hold against you.”

“I don’t have pigtails to be held by anything. I just have a tail.”

“Wait, what about your brother? He’s fine with you staying ashore as a charcoal seller?”

“He’s still out at sea running his ship. Said he’d disown me as his brother, even. Haven’t seen him in ages.”

Hearing this, Tao Yao’s eyes lit up, and she suddenly addressed him in a tone of casual negotiation. “How about this—given how the two of you are living now, one out at dangerous sea, the other burning through his life on land, neither of you is likely to live particularly long. If something happens to you, or you learn something’s happened to your brother…” She promptly produced a precious sheet of paper and slapped it down before him, eyes curving into crescents. “Burn this paper immediately and let me know! I’ll come collect your bodies for you! Oh, you have no idea how expensive this paper is! Other demons beg for one of these and can’t get it!”

His face instantly turned uglier than if he’d eaten something rotten, his mind racing through whether beating her up right now would get him poisoned to death on the spot…

“Then it’s settled, happily agreed!” She grabbed his hand. “Good luck!”

“Good luck my foot! You may be Peach Capital’s Ghost Healer, but that doesn’t give you the right to bully demons like this!”

“How am I bullying you?”

“You…”

Just as the two of them were arguing, a knock came at the door, followed by a woman’s clear voice calling from outside: “Brother Dou!”

“Brother Dou?” Tao Yao gave a sly smile. “That’s quite the affectionate nickname!”

His face flushed red, and he hurried to open the door.

A woman in her thirties walked in, a bamboo basket on her arm—not exactly a great beauty, but neatly and pleasantly dressed, her expression gentle. The moment she entered, she said, “I noticed your shoes were worn out, so I made you a new pair.” Before she’d even finished speaking, she spotted Tao Yao and immediately looked embarrassed. “Oh, you have a guest?”

“I’m his niece, haven’t seen my uncle in ages, just came by to visit.” Tao Yao said with a cheeky grin. “And you are…?”

The woman’s face flushed too, stammering, “Ah… I’m… I’m his neighbor.”

“Neighbor?” Tao Yao said, deliberately loud, “And here I thought he’d secretly married himself an aunt for me without telling the family!”

The woman’s blush deepened further, wringing her hands, at a complete loss for words.

He was thoroughly mortified but couldn’t very well lose his temper, so he forced a smile instead. “My niece here just likes talking nonsense, please don’t mind her. She was just about to leave, I’ll walk her out!”

And with that, she found herself pushed straight out the door.

Was this perhaps the first time Lady Tao Yao herself had ever been shooed out by a demon?

Standing outside the door, she narrowed her eyes at him and said, “You could’ve come ashore just for the winters, and yet you’ve stuck around all year long instead—turns out you’ve got someone special, huh!”

His face turned redder than glowing coals, and he stammered, “It’s not—don’t go making things up, nothing’s even happened between us yet!”

“Looks like it’s about to, though.” She giggled, then patted his shoulder. “Never mind the rest, but that thing I mentioned earlier—consider it agreed to. Don’t you forget it!”

“I never agreed to anything!”

“Go on in already, don’t keep her waiting.” Without giving him a chance to argue further, she shoved him back inside and shut the door behind him for good measure.

If he didn’t want to stay in the sea, then so be it—everyone had to find some place of their own liking to settle down eventually.

Perhaps, before too long, she really would have herself an “aunt” after all.

Though, just from wandering over for a casual visit, she’d apparently picked up an uncle… and soon an aunt too… was she somehow coming out on the losing end of this deal again?

Tao Yao looked up at the still-gray sky, then glanced at the huge pile of charcoal Dou Mu had stockpiled in the yard, smiled, grabbed a piece of charcoal in her hand, and strolled off unhurriedly through the gate.

Might as well toss this charcoal into a stove once she got back, grill up some meat and give it a try?

Thinking about it that way, the weather didn’t seem quite so cold anymore.