Prologue

It rained.

Is there anything more blissful than roasting meat in the cold north wind?

There isn’t!

Over glowing red coals, evenly sliced venison sizzled with dripping fat on a specially made copper grate, its mouth-watering fragrance drifting from the room out into the open, sinking hooks into every inch it touched—no one could resist it, body and soul dragged helplessly toward it.

Outside the window, Tao Yao was one such “no one.” Young Master Liu was another. Mo Ya and Gungun made a joint third.

Before them stood the Si family’s side hall, its plaque inscribed with the two characters “Calyx Snow.” The furnishings here were sparser and simpler than elsewhere—besides the table, chairs, and writing desk with its four scholarly treasures, there was only a painting of frost-covered plum blossoms on the wall. The window opposite was larger than any other in the house, opening directly onto a grove of red plum trees just beginning to bud. Look closer, and every ornament in the room followed a plum-blossom theme—vases and cups, all white with red plum designs painted on, even the inkstone carved into the shape of a five-petaled plum flower. A waist-high vase in the corner held fresh plum branches. If not for the grill set up by the window, and the damnably fragrant venison sizzling on it, this side hall could have passed for an elegant retreat built purely for plum-viewing. Before long the capital would see its first snowfall, and at that moment, in a place with such natural charm, warm wine in hand, admiring the red plums, composing poetry on a whim—that too would be one of life’s great pleasures.

Too bad the fine room and fine view had been utterly ruined by those two men!

Si Kuanglan rarely had this much leisure time, and he truly didn’t fear the cold—even now, with warmth giving way to chill, he still wore a thin robe of white with silver patterns, only a ring of white fox fur at the collar hinting at any warmth. He hadn’t even bothered to tie up his hair properly, just loosely knotted it behind him, all his attention fixed on the salt between his fingers.

That’s right—one hand pinching salt, the other holding back his sleeve, he was sprinkling salt over the venison with intense focus, utterly meticulous, unwilling to add a grain too much or too little.

Beside him, Si Jingyuan was fidgeting like a starving monkey, chopsticks in hand, itching to snatch a piece, urging repeatedly, “Add more salt, it needs more flavor!”

“Pull your chopsticks back.” Si Kuanglan didn’t even look at him. “Roasting meat has two cardinal sins—poor timing over the fire, and careless seasoning. One jab from your chopsticks and you’d be squandering a gift from heaven.”

Si Jingyuan rolled his eyes to the sky. “It’s just a few pieces of roast meat… since when did it become so unapproachable? When Steward Miao used to roast venison for us, you never fussed like this!”

“Roasting meat is like being a person—if you can achieve first-rate excellence, why settle for second-rate?” Si Kuanglan clapped his hands, picked up the copper tongs, and flipped each piece of meat on the grill once more. “Ten more counts.”

No way! There was no waiting ten more counts, not even one! It smelled too good! Good enough to kill a person!

Whoever hides away to eat alone deserves no respect—not even a knock was necessary. Tao Yao burst straight in, eyes lit up, asking a question she already knew the answer to: “Oh my, oh my, what are the eldest young master and second young master doing in here? Oh ho, roasting meat? Roasting venison?!”

“Huh, aren’t you all off today?” Si Jingyuan looked over this sudden band of uninvited guests. “Girl Tao, didn’t you say this morning you were going to the market?”

“The market doesn’t smell as good as venison.” Tao Yao wiped at her mouth, her eyes refusing to leave the grill for even a second.

“Who goes to the market without bringing money!” Young Master Liu snorted coldly, poking the back of Tao Yao’s head. “You buy things, I pay—does such a good deal exist in this world?!”

“Amitabha, amitabha, do remember you’re a vegetarian fox!” Mo Ya said, hugging tight to Gungun, who was itching with excitement at the smell of meat, and explained to Si Jingyuan, “The two of them got into a fight at the market today. Tao Yao said Young Master Liu’s stinginess means he’ll never find a wife, and Young Master Liu said Tao Yao isn’t even as pretty as Xiao Hong who sells vegetables, and even if she wore every fine dress in the capital, no one would marry her.”

Young Master Liu smacked his bald head. “Who asked you to repeat all that?”

“Marry whoever you want, marry a princess and become a prince consort, I wish you every happiness! Anyway, is the meat done yet?” Tao Yao paid no attention at all to what was being said behind her, her eyes nearly falling into the pile of venison.

Si Kuanglan didn’t look at her either, simply picked up two white porcelain plates nearby, placed a piece of meat in each, and handed one to Si Jingyuan and one to Tao Yao. “Here.”

Tao Yao was practically overwhelmed—by her understanding of Si Kuanglan, this precociously mature second young master, moody and forever laying down rules for people, would never personally roast meat and hand it to her with his own hands! If he hadn’t also given a piece to Si Jingyuan, she’d have suspected the venison was laced with something strange—perhaps a drug that would make her run ten laps around the stables against her will, or turn her into a sausage-mouthed mute for a day. In Si Kuanglan’s eyes, she’d never once been a proper, obedient servant girl; being punished ten times a day was only what she deserved. Then again, he wasn’t exactly merciless toward his good-for-nothing older brother either—last time, over the mess at the Chongxiao Tower incident, he’d talked about punishing them, but nothing had come of it yet. Could this venison be some elaborate scheme to lull them first?

But no matter how fast Tao Yao’s brain worked, it could never outrun her mouth—scheme or punishment, even if this piece of venison were laced with poison, she’d gladly swallow it down. It was just too delicious!

What kind of divine being could roast meat this heavenly? The satisfaction filling her mouth was enough to make Tao Yao swoon with happiness—crispy outside, tender inside, juicy, savory, perfectly seasoned—no words could do justice to the sheer wonder of this piece of meat. So Si Kuanglan’s talk of “why settle for second-rate when you can achieve first-rate” hadn’t just been empty posturing after all—he really was a man who demanded absolute perfection, even in roasting meat. She’d had roast meat before, but nothing had ever compared to this. She truly couldn’t tell whether a handsome person’s cooking simply tasted better, or whether this man had added some secret ingredient she didn’t know about. Either way, her soul had been thoroughly hooked. If she could, she’d happily feed horses at the Si estate for the rest of her life, no pay required, as long as Si Kuanglan roasted her meat like this every day!

“Would you like a piece?” Si Kuanglan glanced at Young Master Liu. “The Si family doesn’t really have a chef worth showing off.”

He’d almost reached for it—after all, the smell was hard to resist—but that last line struck Young Master Liu’s pride just in time. He turned his face away, striking a pose of utter disdain. “I have no interest in such an unremarkable dish. And for the record, I have never been a chef not worth showing off—merely a master too refined for common tastes, wasted on the likes of you.”

“Oh, all right then.” Si Kuanglan smiled, popped the venison into his own mouth, chewed slowly, then frowned slightly. “A touch overdone, actually.”

The standards were too high!

Before he’d even finished swallowing, Tao Yao had already, without a shred of dignity, thrust her plate in front of him, wearing the fullest smile she could muster behind it. “Second Young Master, I think I could eat more!”

The corner of Si Kuanglan’s mouth curved up. “There’s plenty of venison today—there’s certainly enough for your share.”

Tao Yao was overjoyed, nodding like she was pounding rice. “Just give me the whole batch!”

“Get your own chopsticks.” Si Kuanglan picked up another piece for himself.

Tao Yao hurriedly grabbed a pair of chopsticks nearby and lunged for the meat at full speed.

But just as her chopsticks were about to touch the meat, another pair of chopsticks precisely knocked them aside.

Si Kuanglan’s smile never faltered, his chopsticks suddenly an impenetrable line of defense.

Hmph. She should have known this man wasn’t so virtuous after all.

Tao Yao frowned, changed her angle, and struck twice as fast as before.

No use—blocked again.

Furious now, she launched an even faster, trickier assault on the roast meat, but Si Kuanglan was always one beat ahead, as if he’d already seen exactly where her chopsticks would go. After more than a dozen rounds, she hadn’t even grazed the edge of a single piece.

The three men of the Si household, however hopeless they might be at finding wives, were no ordinary fighters when it came to physical skill. With Tao Yao’s amateur abilities, she could probably starve to death before successfully stealing a single bite from Si Kuanglan.

Furious, she flung her chopsticks down.

“What, don’t want to eat anymore?” Si Kuanglan deliberately popped another piece into his mouth, chewing with obvious satisfaction.

Tao Yao swallowed her pride along with her saliva, turned, and jerked her head at Young Master Liu. “Get in there for me! Put it on my tab if you must!”

Mo Ya sighed. “One step closer to being eaten myself… all over a piece of roast meat…”

Who would have thought Young Master Liu would flatly refuse: “Even if you put it on your tab, I won’t help you this time!”

“Why not?!” Tao Yao was so angry she stamped her feet. The only one in the room who could match Si Kuanglan in combat skill was Young Master Liu, and yet this wretched snake refused to take her side!

“What kind of dignity would I have, resorting to violence over a piece of roast meat? If word got out, I’d never live it down!” Young Master Liu shook his head firmly. “Besides, such a crude dish—I could make it with my eyes closed. Why should you be reduced to this?”

“You think what you roast is fit for human consumption?” Tao Yao glared up at Young Master Liu, fire practically leaping from her eyes. “Are you helping or not?!”

“No!” Young Master Liu lifted his chin. “Absolutely not!”

“You…” Tao Yao clenched her fists, murder flashing across her face. “Don’t blame me for being rude, then.”

She really seemed to be genuinely angry now—the room suddenly crackled with tension.

“Ah, Lanlan, you’re at fault here too—the girl’s just greedy, no need to make things so hard for her.” Si Jingyuan said between bites, hurrying so much he burned his tongue, which somehow made him look all the more infuriating.

Si Kuanglan remained unmoved. “Let’s see just how rude she gets.”

Tao Yao turned back, her expression suddenly icy, looking at him as though he were a mortal enemy.

Sensing trouble, Mo Ya quickly tugged at her sleeve. “Don’t do anything rash! We can’t have bloodshed over a piece of roast meat!”

“Out of my way!” Tao Yao shook off his hand and suddenly plopped down on the floor, slapping her legs and wailing like some village shrew, “A heartless employer mistreating his servant, not even given enough to eat! In this age of peace and prosperity, such a tragedy! Heaven’s wrath and the people’s grievance, a story to move even the stones to tears!!”

The meat in Si Jingyuan’s mouth fell right out in shock.

Si Kuanglan’s expression didn’t change at all, watching her performance with great interest.

Mo Ya edged behind her awkwardly, whispering, “That’s not really the right context for ‘move even the stones to tears’…”

“I’ll use it anyway!” Tao Yao kept up her dry wailing. “Here I’ve served the Si household faithfully and without complaint, and I can’t even get a single full meal! Looks human but doesn’t act like one! Oh heavens, what a bitter fate I lead!”

Young Master Liu wanted to cover his face and pretend not to know her—as long as she was still alive, Peach Capital’s reputation was doomed.

Just as the scene reached peak awkwardness, Steward Miao carried a fresh plate of venison into the room. “Worried you might not have enough, I brought some more—this batch turned out really well… oh, Girl Tao, what are you doing? It’s freezing out—why are you sitting on the floor?”

“Steward Miao!!” Tao Yao looked at him as though seeing her own long-lost parents, throwing her arms around his leg while pointing at Si Kuanglan with the other hand. “He’s mistreating his servant! He roasted the meat and won’t let me have any! And he knocked my chopsticks away!”

“You threw your own chopsticks down,” Si Kuanglan said flatly.

Steward Miao laughed helplessly. “You children, honestly… Girl Tao, get up first, the floor’s cold, you’ll catch a chill.”

“No!!!” Tao Yao grew even more shameless, kicking her legs like a frog that had suffered the world’s greatest injustice. “Steward Miao, I won’t get up until you take my side! I won’t get up until I get some meat! I won’t get up until Si Kuanglan apologizes!”

“Ahem, girl, the more you talk the more unreasonable you sound—you mustn’t be so disrespectful to the Second Young Master.” Steward Miao was rocked side to side as Tao Yao clung to him, barely managing to steady the plate of meat in his hands. He turned to Si Kuanglan. “Second Young Master, you know this girl’s temperament well—why bother teasing her like this? There’s plenty of venison today, and the weather’s cold besides. Why not all sit down properly and enjoy a meal?”

“Exactly, I’ve been telling Lanlan the same thing for ages—he’s just this petty.” Si Jingyuan nodded along as he ate, not even bothering to swallow before running over to take the plate from Steward Miao’s hands, dashing back gleefully. “Come on, come on, back to grilling.”

Tao Yao leapt up off the floor in fury, shouting at Si Jingyuan, “Spit that meat back out! You’re the biggest glutton here!”

“Why are you mad at me?” Si Jingyuan said innocently. “It’s not like I’m the one keeping you from eating!”

“You’re all in on it together!” Tao Yao blurted out. “Birds of a feather!”

Young Master Liu shot her a sharp glare, warning her to watch her words.

Steward Miao just kept shaking his head. In all his years at the Si household, he’d seen every kind of scene imaginable, but never once a farce over stolen meat. He couldn’t say exactly when it had happened, but the once rock-steady, black-and-white clarity of the Si household’s atmosphere had gradually begun to shift—even someone like Si Kuanglan had started teasing the help. This unassuming girl might just be heaven’s great gift to them… or perhaps its curse.

“One question, one piece of meat.” Si Kuanglan finally spoke, pointing at the grill. “Nothing in the Si household comes free.”

Tao Yao blinked. “A question?”

“I ask, you answer. No concealing, no fabricating.” Si Kuanglan walked up to Tao Yao, stopping a single step away.

He was so tall that even at this distance, looking up at him felt impossible.

Tao Yao stood on tiptoe and still couldn’t reach his shoulder, straining her neck upward. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“My household’s stable hand.” Si Kuanglan looked down at her. “Unless you’d like to answer for yourself.”

Tao Yao frowned—ah, now she understood. So this whole roast-meat feast had been a Feast at Hong Gate all along—kindly offering her food had just been a pretense to pry into her identity.

“My household fears neither bandits nor demons and monsters. There is only one thing we cannot abide,” Si Kuanglan said, lowering his head slightly to look Tao Yao directly in the eye, “dishonesty.”

Tsk, such striking eyes—the gaze that came with them was equally bright, sharp without malice, brimming with the kind of edge that could kill without a blade ever leaving its sheath. Meeting his eyes head-on, Tao Yao felt strangely guilty under his stare, even though she’d done nothing shameful—somehow she still felt herself shrinking a notch smaller. Honestly, telling the truth wouldn’t hurt. She’d been at the Si household a good while now, and in all fairness, they’d treated her and her companions well. She also knew these were no ordinary people—men of considerable vision—so there was little to fear in them learning her true identity and casting her out as a lunatic. But even if she told them, they might not believe her. And even if they did believe her, what help could they possibly offer?

“Without sincerity, there can be no friendship.” Steward Miao had finally caught on to Si Kuanglan’s intent, and said to Tao Yao with a smile, “You’ve all been at the Si household for some time now, and we’re not blind to the things that have happened. We’re not afraid of you causing trouble—we’re afraid that if you ever find yourselves in real difficulty, we won’t know where to begin helping. We’ve shared meals under the same roof, at least—we mean you no harm.”

Young Master Liu leaned in close to Tao Yao, whispering, “The old man really knows how to talk—makes my heart feel at ease.”

“Should I really tell them?” Tao Yao pulled Young Master Liu aside, crouching down with her back to the others.

“We’re not exactly ordinary people ourselves, and neither are they. We’ve been eating their food all this time without a word of truth—that’s really not right.”

“But I haven’t been freeloading either, the horses I feed are nice and plump!”

“How are you suddenly this dense! What did you even come to the capital for? To find the Compendium of a Hundred Spirits! You rule Peach Capital, sure, but in the human realm? You don’t know anyone, don’t know the place—how are you supposed to find it? Getting close to the Si family changes everything. If they’re willing to help, your chances at least double, don’t they? The Si household resolves disputes—who knows, maybe they can even resolve this one for you!”

“Huh… you actually said something sensible for once today!”

“You think I enjoy reminding you? I’m just afraid of getting dragged down with you! If the Compendium never turns up, that person will settle scores with you—and you think I’ll get off scot-free? Might end up boiled into snake soup! Everyone knows how close you and I are! Ugh, I wish I’d never met you.”

“Ha, and you’re only close to me because you want to eat the little monk! Pah!”

No one behind them could make out what the two were whispering about—they only saw the pair crouched suspiciously in the far corner of the room, chattering away, occasionally smacking each other’s heads or throwing a punch, up to who knows what mischief.

A moment later, Tao Yao stood up and walked back to Si Kuanglan with a solemn expression. “Ask!”

“Who are you people?” Si Kuanglan studied his little stable hand.

Tao Yao took a breath and smiled. “My name is Tao Yao. I come from Peach Capital. I practice medicine—treating spirits, not people.”

The room fell silent for quite a while.

Si Jingyuan and Steward Miao exchanged glances—clearly, in their limited experience of the world, the term “Peach Capital” had never once come up.

“Peach Capital?” Si Kuanglan raised an eyebrow. “No such place exists anywhere under heaven, as far as anyone has ever heard.”

“And what if this place isn’t ‘under heaven’ at all?” Tao Yao cleared her throat. “I’ll only say this once—whether you listen, whether you believe it, that’s up to you.”

Si Kuanglan made a gesture inviting her to continue. Si Jingyuan hurriedly found a stool and settled in, quietly regretting there wasn’t a plate of melon seeds within reach.

“Tao Yao…” Mo Ya tugged at her sleeve, looking worried. “Are you really going to tell them?”

“We’ve eaten their food—it’s only right to give them the truth in return.” Tao Yao flicked his bald head. “I know where to draw the line.”

Mo Ya murmured a few Buddhist chants and, hesitating, finally let go of her sleeve.

“Above the human realm lies the realm of the divine, itself split into two factions—the Heavenly Court and Kunlun—together guarding the peace between heaven, earth, and the mortal world. Peach Capital stands as a third power alongside them, independent of all three realms, governing only the spirits and demons of the world, meddling in nothing else. As for where Peach Capital actually is, telling you wouldn’t help—you’d never find it, since it isn’t in any place you know of.” Tao Yao pointed at herself. “As for me, unworthy as I am, the spirits all call me the Ghost Physician of Peach Capital. Humans suffer a hundred ailments, and spirits are no exception—curing them is my trade, working wonders where others fail. So, from now on, show me a little more respect!”

“That’s all?” Si Kuanglan looked at her, no trace of surprise in his eyes.

“I’ve just told you a secret of the utmost importance!” Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “What more do you want to know? Can I eat now?”

Si Jingyuan’s eyes rolled with interest, and he got up from his stool, circling Tao Yao several times, saying in disbelief, “So you really are a physician?”

“Don’t I look it?” Tao Yao huffed.

“A physician who treats spirits specifically?”

“If you ever turn into a spirit, I’ll treat you too.”

“Incredible! I knew you weren’t an ordinary sort!” Si Jingyuan actually clapped his hands in delight, turning to Si Kuanglan. “Lanlan, we’ve struck gold here, haven’t we?”

Steward Miao, too, kept exclaiming in wonder, calling it unbelievable.

Si Kuanglan said nothing at first, sweeping his gaze over Tao Yao, Young Master Liu, and Mo Ya in turn before finally speaking. “You’ve come from Peach Capital—are you spirits as well?”

Tao Yao glanced at Young Master Liu, then at Mo Ya, before sidling up to Si Kuanglan with a mischievous grin and suddenly baring her teeth and claws in a menacing face. “Is the Second Young Master scared?”

“Even the most fearsome spirit would give me nothing to fear.” Si Kuanglan didn’t even bother dodging her theatrics.

Tao Yao, thwarted, snorted. “I hear the little King of the Underworld of the Si household is worldly and fearless—if you cowered like some ignorant commoner in front of spirits like those, that would truly disgrace your family name.”

“It has nothing to do with worldliness or courage.” Si Kuanglan gave her a rare, genuine smile. “I simply can’t find any reason to fear a spirit who can’t even manage to steal a piece of roast meat.”

Young Master Liu and Mo Ya couldn’t help snickering, as if they weren’t on her side at all.

This Si Kuanglan, honestly—so good-looking, yet such a vicious tongue. He barely spoke, practically mute most days, but every time he opened his mouth it was like a needle straight to the heart, and you couldn’t even find grounds to argue back…

Everyone braced for Tao Yao to explode again—Young Master Liu even warned Steward Miao to protect his young master, since Tao Yao might just be furious enough to shave his head bald. But surprisingly, she didn’t. Not only did she not get angry, she folded her hands behind her back with great solemnity and, tilting her head up at Si Kuanglan, declared, “We may come from Peach Capital, but that doesn’t necessarily make us spirits. You may regard us as spirits or as humans, as you please—but the important thing is, for people of our stature, you’d do well to show a little more respect and reverence going forward. Being granted lodging in your household is an honor others wouldn’t even dare dream of.”

“The great honor isn’t worth mentioning—but I’ll grant you the great appetite is real enough.” Si Kuanglan leaned forward slightly, bringing his face close to hers. “Heaven and earth, gods and demons—to me, they’re all the same. As a descendant of the Si family, I judge no one by their pedigree, only by right and wrong.”

Tao Yao blinked, startled—his tone was calm, but carried an overwhelming weight, leaving no room for her usual playful banter.

He held that distance and continued, “And so, within the gates of my household, a servant is a servant. If you’re hoping to be enshrined as some deity, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

With that, the corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ll accept the answer you’ve given, for now. But if there’s even a hint of concealment in it, the lot of you can go seek your fortunes elsewhere.”

“Quite the ruthless one…” Young Master Liu stroked his chin. “Rare to find a young man capable of putting out our great Lady Tao Yao’s fire like that.”

“Amitabha, amitabha, I thought only that one person could manage such a thing.” Mo Ya’s face was full of open admiration. “The young master of the Si household is destined for greatness.”

Fortunately, Tao Yao didn’t hear that, or the meat on the grill would have taken on a different flavor entirely.

She watched Si Kuanglan—who clearly cared nothing for her dignity and had no idea that, if she wished it, she could kill him a hundred deaths in a hundred different styles—turn away and toss the copper tongs to Si Jingyuan. “Handle the rest of the raw meat yourselves. I have other matters to attend to.”

Then, as if no one else existed in his eyes, he walked straight out of the side hall.

Not until his figure had vanished did Tao Yao finally snap out of her daze, scratching her head and nudging Young Master Liu. “Did I just lose that argument?”

“You lost before you even got the chance to argue…” Young Master Liu said sympathetically, patting her shoulder, murmuring, “Might be for the best, honestly. If they’re not even afraid of spirits, at least we can relax a little.”

Tao Yao suddenly let out a howl and stomped furiously on the ground several times. Sharp-tongued as she was, to lose without even a fight—and to a “mute” of all people—was infuriating enough to kill her appetite. Wait a moment—he’d just walked off like that. Who was going to roast the rest of the meat now?

“All right, all right, you children have had your fun.” Steward Miao shook his head, then said to Si Jingyuan, “If it’s not enough, there’s more in the kitchen—amuse yourselves. I still have a stack of accounts to go over.”

“Steward Miao!” Tao Yao suddenly called out to him, turning serious. “Aren’t you afraid at all? If we really are spirits?”

Steward Miao stopped in his tracks, was silent a moment, then turned back. “The most fearsome thing in this world isn’t spirits. Whether you’re a spirit or not, so long as you’re part of the Si household, you’ll always be old Miao’s Girl Tao.” He paused, then reached out and patted Tao Yao’s head with a smile. “Don’t worry. Anything good to eat or fun to be had, it’s all saved for you.”

Tao Yao said nothing, only noticing the strange warmth of the hand resting on her head—a warmth she’d nearly forgotten existed, from somewhere far back in her own past…

“Brr, it’s cold.” Steward Miao opened the door, and the cold wind rushed in; he sucked in a sharp breath, rubbing his hands together as he trotted off and disappeared. This man really had a talent for making people completely overlook what an exceptional man he actually was—whether in martial skill or in wit and temperament, a truly mediocre, ordinary steward could never have managed to keep two living kings of the underworld like the Si brothers in check. He’d balanced himself so perfectly that being around him was, without fail, comfortable.

She really ought to be grateful to him—without his sharp eye back then, they’d never have crossed paths with the Si family at all, and as things stood now, there probably wasn’t a better place in the human realm to take them in than the Si household. Now that she’d revealed most of the truth about herself, things would likely only get more interesting from here. Better to lean on a big tree for shade, and nothing made her happier than having food and drink at hand—Tao Yao made up her mind then and there: as long as she didn’t want to leave, no one was chasing her out the gates of the Si household. Settled.

Still, she’d assumed that with Si Kuanglan gone, the rest of the meal would go smoothly and happily. Reality proved quite the opposite.

Amid clouds of smoke, Mo Ya and Gungun had already fled out the door, while Young Master Liu and Si Jingyuan nearly came to blows in front of the grill.

“I told you, don’t add salt at this point!”

“Who cares about salt? You’re supposed to be brushing on oil, are you deaf? Who’s the chef here, you or me?”

“Too much oil drips into the fire—with flames that big, you won’t be eating meat, you’ll be eating charcoal!”

“There’s not even charcoal left now!”

Tao Yao sat amid the thick smoke, gazing with utter despair at the plate Young Master Liu handed her.

“Eat up, my roasting skills aren’t bad either.”

“Where does your confidence come from, telling me this is meat and not charcoal?”

“It’s just slightly charred on the outside…”

“Then you eat it, every last bite!”

“I’m eating vegetarian today.”

“Open your mouth!”

“No…”

“Stand right there!”

The two of them chased each other around the grill, brawling, leaving Si Jingyuan frowning as he picked up a piece of venison charred beyond recognition, muttering, “Isn’t this how Lanlan roasts it too…” Not paying attention, a piece of pitch-black meat came flying through the air and smacked him square in the face.

“Watch where you’re throwing that!!”

The two-person brawl became a three-person melee, and the once-tranquil side hall witnessed the most undignified moment since its founding.

The plum grove of the Si estate had only bloomed halfway, yet already a faint fragrance drifted through the household, stirring the senses.

The sun was unusually bright today. After lunch, with nothing to do, Tao Yao lounged sideways on a long stone bench in the plum grove, breathing in the fragrance and basking in the sunlight. At the far end of the grove, Steward Miao held a clay watering pot, carefully tending to a plum tree before him.

Tao Yao opened her eyes halfway and called out loudly, “Steward Miao, it just rained the day before yesterday—aren’t you afraid of drowning it?”

Steward Miao carried the pot over to her side, smiling as he tapped it with a finger. “This isn’t water—it’s fertilizer I’ve mixed myself. A few trees in this grove never grow as well as the rest, they need a bit of extra care.”

Tao Yao sat up and stretched. “You’re awfully attentive to a few trees, old man.”

“Plants have feelings too. This grove was planted by the old master and mistress themselves, with their own hands—these plum trees are older than either of the young masters.” Steward Miao set down the pot and sat beside Tao Yao, gazing thoughtfully at the faintly visible buildings ahead, clearly moved. “They even had that side hall’s window facing the grove made larger than any other, so that when the snow fell and the plums bloomed, they could warm their wine, chat, compose poetry and paint—truly a match made in heaven.” Sunlight and shifting shadows played in his eyes, rendering the distant memory all the more beautiful. “Those two characters, ‘Calyx Snow,’ on the side hall—the old master wrote them himself, taken from a line of poetry about seeing the bright moon while drunk, and plum blossoms filling the steps upon waking; among all the world’s fine sights, only the snow among the calyxes deserves song.”

“Oh…” Such poetry was something Tao Yao had never even heard before, utterly beyond her, so she just yawned and said, “Sounds like the young masters’ parents really loved plum blossoms?! Still, I prefer peonies myself.”

Steward Miao asked, curious. “Peonies? Why’s that? I’d have thought you’d prefer peach blossoms, ha ha.”

“Peonies mean wealth and fortune! Look, if I’m betting on dice with someone, I can hardly bring along a plum blossom, can I—plum blossom, ‘no blossom,’ no winnings at all!” Tao Yao said with great seriousness.

Steward Miao burst out laughing. “You girl, where do you come up with such nonsense! The plum is a gentleman among flowers—blooming proudly through frost and snow, resilient and unyielding. How did it end up sounding like that coming out of your mouth?”

Tao Yao stuck out her tongue, shaking her head. “Either way, I don’t like it.”

“If you don’t like it, all the more reason to spend some time cultivating a bond with these gentlemen.” Steward Miao said, half-joking. “I’ll give you a new task from now on—come to the plum grove every day and pick up the fallen petals, only the ones still whole and unblemished, and put them carefully into a cloth pouch.”

“Huh?” Tao Yao pouted. “Steward Miao, did I offend you somehow today?”

“The Second Young Master needs plum petals every winter—when he has free time, he likes to brew a syrup called ‘As the Heart Desires’ from them, light and sweet, with the benefit of nourishing and easing dryness.” Steward Miao smiled at Tao Yao. “Won’t you take on this task for the Second Young Master too?”

“Does it taste good?” Tao Yao licked her lips, then suddenly remembered something. “But I recall, before, outside Chongxiao Tower, when I brought Shuhu into the tower, I clearly heard him tell that Lord Lingxing he doesn’t like sweets.”

“Sharp ears you have, catching even idle chatter behind you,” Steward Miao said with a laugh. “It’s not quite that he dislikes it—more that he doesn’t like it made by others. He has to give Lord Lingxing some face, after all. You know the Second Young Master’s temperament—proud and aloof. Very few things in this world catch his eye, whether it’s a person or something as small as a sweet treat.”

“Makes sense—a man who insists even roast meat has to be ‘first-rate’ could hardly appreciate anything someone else made…” Tao Yao curled her lip, the roast-meat debacle still vivid in her memory. “‘As the Heart Desires’… sounds pretty good actually, but he’d surely never spare me a taste.” Ever since that day, aside from occasionally crossing paths at mealtimes, she and Si Kuanglan barely acknowledged each other at all—even when they happened to run into one another around the estate, he’d look right through her, and she’d roll her eyes and go her own way.

“By the Second Young Master’s usual custom, he sends a bottle each year to the servant who collects the petals, as a token of appreciation.” Steward Miao said, patting his chest reassuringly. “Now that you’ve taken on this task, there’s no way he’d leave you out. You know the Second Young Master—a man who follows his own rules.”

Tao Yao’s eyes rolled, already calculating that this was a deal worth taking. She was genuinely curious what this “As the Heart Desires” tasted like. Then again, was there anything in this world Si Kuanglan couldn’t do well? And… was there anything Si Jingyuan couldn’t manage to ruin?

A few days back, he’d been locked up again by his beloved Lanlan, for taking it upon himself to fetch a stack of young ladies’ portraits and birth charts from some matchmaker, insisting his brother pick a few who “caught his eye.” Furious, Si Kuanglan had punished him during his confinement by making him copy out every single birth chart he’d brought back ten thousand times each, with someone assigned to check the count—no food until the quota was met. As a result, she’d once again had to sneak chicken legs to this hopeless “older brother” she’d somehow acquired. When it came to finding his brother a wife, Si Jingyuan really was obsessive… too bad the younger brother never appreciated it in the slightest. These two mismatched “twin” brothers really were the most entertaining humans she’d encountered since arriving in the human realm. Being fully aware of her true nature and remaining completely unmoved by it, still resolutely treating her as nothing more than hired help—that sort of thing could only happen behind the gates of the Si household.

Tao Yao thought it over for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, I’ll take charge of this year’s petals.”

No sooner had she spoken than the wind picked up, scattering petals—and mixed in with it came the shouts of others.

“Stop her! Quick, quick, quick!”

“Where did she go?!”

“She was clearly headed this way!”

Following the sound, several household guards normally stationed at the front gate came rushing frantically toward the plum grove—the usually orderly Si estate rarely saw such chaos.

Steward Miao strode forward at once. The moment the guards spotted him, they surged toward him as if he were their savior.

“What’s got you all so flustered?” Steward Miao asked calmly.

“Reporting to Steward Miao… just now… someone knocked urgently at the gate…” one guard answered, panting, “I opened the door… and there at the entrance was… a young girl none of us had ever seen before… she kept insisting she wanted to see our two young masters… I asked if she’d submitted a calling card, and she asked what a calling card even was… asked for her name, and she wouldn’t say… naturally we couldn’t let her in… but then she actually attacked us, and slipped into the estate in the chaos… we chased after her… but somehow lost all trace of her… we deserve death for this… we beg Steward Miao’s punishment.”

All the guards dropped to their knees with a thud.

Hearing this, Tao Yao, trailing behind Steward Miao, immediately perked up. She’d been at the Si estate a while now, and someone bold enough to force their way into Qingmeng River’s Si estate in broad daylight—that was a first. Having been here a while, she’d come to understand the household’s customs. Just as anyone seeking her medical help had to burn paper and formally announce it, anyone in the wider world with a dispute too thorny to resolve alone, requiring the Si family’s intervention, first had to send a calling card to the estate—not just stating their identity, but laying out the entire dispute in precise, truthful detail. Only after the young masters of the Si family reviewed it and agreed to intervene would a time and place be marked on the card, and the petitioner need only show up as instructed. If they declined to help, the card would simply be returned as-is. The exchange itself was simple enough, but those few characters marking a time and place could bring a lifetime of trouble and danger, even bloodshed. The title “Living King of the Underworld” sounded impressive, but living up to it was far harder than it appeared.

Tao Yao also knew that the Si estate didn’t take security all that seriously. The household had few servants to begin with, and only two or three guards were usually stationed at the front and back gates at any given time. She’d once asked Steward Miao out of curiosity—surely any great household in the human realm kept tight security, with guards layered three deep inside and out—wasn’t the Si family worried about enemies slipping in? Even if enemies were too intimidated by the Si name to act recklessly, thieves getting in wouldn’t be good either. But Steward Miao had simply laughed, saying they’d be better off worrying about how to raise the Second Young Master’s horses better than worrying about that. Within the capital, the Si family’s name alone was talisman enough to keep both men and thieves at bay. Besides, given her understanding of Si Kuanglan, even if someone reckless enough to court death broke in to cause trouble, was there anyone he couldn’t handle? And besides, the decision not to station heavy guards had been Si Kuanglan’s own—he disliked crowds by nature, couldn’t stand throngs of people constantly coming and going before his eyes. His own words had been: if I haven’t nodded my approval, no one comes and goes from the Si household freely, and that’s that. And events had borne this out—for many years, the Si estate had remained safe and sound, free of theft or robbery, so quiet that few ordinary people even dared approach.

Too bad that “quiet” had been shattered today—and by a young girl, of all things?!

“All of you, get up.” Steward Miao ordered. Only once the guards had risen did he notice each of them sporting bruised faces—clearly the intruder’s fists had packed quite a punch. These guards, though far from his own skill or the two young masters’, should easily have handled a single girl, yet here they were in such a sorry state. Steward Miao frowned. “A young girl, you say?”

The guards nodded hurriedly.

“You’re certain she came this way?”

“Certain—we saw her sprinting along the west corridor when we were chasing her. As you know, the west corridor only leads to the plum grove. We weren’t far behind her at all, but somehow, in the blink of an eye, she vanished from the corridor entirely. Did you not see anyone come this way toward the grove?”

Tao Yao couldn’t help but say, “I’ve been lying around in the plum grove all afternoon—besides Steward Miao and you all, I haven’t seen a single other soul.”

The guards exchanged glances, growing more bewildered by the moment.

“How could she just vanish into thin air?”

“Could it be some kind of spirit?”

“There’s no such thing as spirits in this world! Maybe she’s some trickster girl who knows sleight of hand!”

“Enough, stop guessing wildly,” Steward Miao cut off their muttering. “Gather more people and search the entire estate thoroughly. Don’t leave a single corner unchecked.”

“Yes!” The men dispersed to carry out the order.

The cold wind picked up again, the temperature dropping a touch lower than before.

Steward Miao stood before the plum grove, looking around but finding nothing amiss, and frowned. “Those men’s eyesight has never been poor. If they say she came this way, she must have…”

Tao Yao struck a pose too, peering into the distance, but saw not a soul anywhere. She couldn’t help complaining, “If you ask me, sure the imperial palace is huge, but it’s got plenty of people too—swat a single fly and it’s dead in an instant. Your Si estate might be big, but you’ve only got a couple cats’ worth of staff. If someone reckless really wanted to break in, you’d be searching for a needle in a haystack. Just watching you all makes me tired.”

“You girl, instead of helping, you just talk nonsense,” Steward Miao glared at her. “Since the intruder’s just a young girl, she probably can’t cause much trouble. Maybe some young lady smitten with one of the young masters got carried away and caused this whole scene.”

“Isn’t ‘don’t judge by appearances’ one of the things you old hands of the world are always warning people about?” Tao Yao hopped in front of him, pointing at herself. “Don’t go underestimating young girls, now.”

Steward Miao nearly choked on his own spit, coughing several times before managing, “You just look like a ‘young girl,’ is that it?”

“Steward Miao, I always thought you weren’t the type to casually call people old monsters.”

“I never said you were an old monster.”

“But you’re already thinking it!!”

“I’m not—I’m merely drawing conclusions based on what you yourself told me about your background.”

“What’s the difference between drawing conclusions and thinking it?”

Tao Yao stalked off in a huff, addressing a nearby plum tree. “See, you lot have stood here for years and years, and no one’s ever called you an old monster, have they.” As she spoke, she kept scuffing her foot angrily against the ground.

“All right, all right, our Girl Tao of the Si household will always be a lovable young girl.” Steward Miao said, half-laughing, half-exasperated, scanning the surroundings once more and finding no sign of an intruder. He turned to Tao Yao. “I’ll go check elsewhere. You go find Young Master Liu and Mo Ya and help patrol together. No more childish tantrums.”

“Wait a moment.” Tao Yao called out to him, still looking put out. “Does your plum grove only have plum trees planted in it?”

Steward Miao blinked, thinking to himself that this girl must have upset her stomach today, spouting such nonsensical questions.

“It’s a plum grove—naturally only plum trees are planted here. Otherwise why would it be called a plum grove?” he answered patiently.

“Doesn’t look that way to me.” Tao Yao tilted her chin toward the plum tree beside her, her gaze dropping to its roots. “Then what’s this?”

Steward Miao followed her gaze. Beneath that gnarled, twisting plum tree, somehow, a small stunted tree had appeared, standing no more than two feet tall, its thin, sparse branches topped with only a scattering of dark red leaves. Judging by the shape of the leaves, it looked like a maple. Steward Miao knew little of plants and trees, but he did know that ordinary maples in the world tended to grow tall and straight, their canopies often spreading dozens of feet wide even several yards off the ground. A specimen this small and unremarkable, easy to overlook at a glance, was something he’d genuinely never seen before.

He stepped closer for a better look, his face full of confusion. “Who would play such a prank, planting a maple in a plum grove?” He pondered a moment, then muttered to himself, uncertain, “There was nothing here when I came to the grove earlier… who would dare break the Si family’s rules, meddling in the grove the old master and mistress left behind?”

“Huh? You mean you didn’t plant it yourselves?” Tao Yao’s eyes went wide. “Then that’s strange—don’t tell me it just sprouted out of the ground on its own?”

Steward Miao shook his head. “It couldn’t possibly be anyone from the Si household. This grove is practically a relic of the old master and mistress—its meaning is far too significant. Everyone here has tended it with the utmost care all these years; who would dare plant something so carelessly here?”

“Hm…” Tao Yao crouched down, resting her chin on her hands, staring seriously at this mysterious newcomer. “Fair enough—even if you were going to plant something, you wouldn’t pick such an ugly maple.” She reached out and poked at the little maple’s leaves, then suddenly burst out laughing. “Not just ugly, but balding too… only two or three leaves left.”

Probably no one else in the world had the ability to make a tree so furious it would stamp its roots in rage—if, that is, the tree could actually understand her.

And today, the greatest oddity in the Si household was that this tree not only understood her—it talked back.

“You’re the ugly one! You’re the ugliest of all!”

A thin, crisp voice, brimming with fury, exploded right in front of Tao Yao—yet there was no one in sight, front, back, or either side, who could have spoken it.

Had anyone less worldly, less bold and sharp-witted than Steward Miao been present, they might well have dropped dead from fright on the spot.

He simply furrowed his brow, not even stepping back, and glanced at Tao Yao. “Did it just curse at you?”

“Yeah, quite bold of it.” Tao Yao put on an angry face, even making as if to pluck off the little maple’s leaves. “It’s already going bald anyway—might as well help it along.”

“Stop!”

The maple on the ground vanished in a whirl of white mist, clearly trying to flee, but no matter how it thrashed, it could only careen wildly within the confines beneath the plum tree, unable to break free.

“Girl Tao…” Steward Miao stared at the marks Tao Yao had scuffed into the ground earlier. “You weren’t really throwing a tantrum before, were you?”

“Am I really that petty?” Tao Yao rolled her eyes, lifting one foot with a grin. “These little things are quite mischievous—best to trap them quietly without a fuss.”

Admiration flickered in Steward Miao’s eyes. “Catching something like this with just a few casual kicks—Girl Tao, you truly are a treasure our household stumbled upon.”

“Instead of praising me, you’d do better buying me more good food and fun things.” Tao Yao watched the swirling white mist trying and failing to escape, as if enjoying a show. “Keep running—let’s see how much strength you’ve got left.”

It probably didn’t have much strength left at all. After only a short struggle, its movements slowed further and further, until at last it collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, the white mist gradually dispersing to reveal a petite young woman kneeling there, unable to rise, one hand clutching her chest, the other braced against the ground, her face deathly pale.

Steward Miao steadied himself and said to Tao Yao, “This must be her, then. Whoever managed to leave our household guards bruised and battered couldn’t possibly be an ordinary ‘young girl.'” He paused. “Is she… a spirit?”

Tao Yao nodded, glancing at him. “You really aren’t the least bit afraid, are you, old man?”

“After all these years traveling far and wide with the two young masters, strange tales and curious sights are nothing new to me.” Steward Miao said honestly. “I’m just curious what she’s after.”

“You… who are you?” Having caught her breath somewhat, the girl struggled to her feet, pointing at Tao Yao. “Release me at once, or you’ll regret it.”

Only now did Tao Yao get a clear look at the newcomer—thin enough that a single breath might blow her away, half a head shorter than even Tao Yao herself, with deep-set eyes, a high nose, and a small mouth—her features passable enough, but her skin was dark and rough, like a village woman who’d toiled under the scorching sun her whole life. Given the world’s habit of praising beauties for skin “white as snow,” this girl seemed destined never to be counted among them in this lifetime. Combined with her coarse, earth-brown clothing, she looked all the more grimy and disheveled, as though she’d just been dug up after three thousand years buried underground.

“Who am I?!” Tao Yao deliberately scratched her nose, the golden bell at her wrist catching the slanting light and glinting brightly.

The girl’s anger showed no sign of easing. “I don’t know who you are! I didn’t come all this way through such hardship just to see you!”

Tao Yao’s eyelids drooped, and she pointed at herself. “You really don’t know who I am?”

“Why should I know who you are?” The girl swung a hand hard against the invisible barrier trapping her, but no matter how much force she used, she couldn’t break through. “Let me out! I need to see the young masters of the Si family!”

Fortunately Si Jingyuan wasn’t around, or he’d certainly have latched onto her, demanding to know why she didn’t recognize the great and famous Tao Yao—wasn’t she supposed to be some kind of celebrity among spirits, or was she just bluffing?

Tao Yao covered her mouth and whispered to Steward Miao, “Too young—hasn’t seen much of the world.”

“Understood, understood.” Steward Miao said, catching her meaning at once, and asked no further questions.

It wasn’t entirely a face-saving excuse either—there were countless spirits in the world, young and old, kind and vicious, clever and dim-witted; it really wasn’t possible for her to know every single one. But those who’d never even heard so much as a whisper of Physician Tao Yao, whose golden bell left nothing standing in its wake—there couldn’t be all that many of those, since even without having tasted pork, one ought to have at least seen a pig run past. All of them fell under Peach Capital’s jurisdiction, after all, so anyone failing to recognize her must either be too young, or simply born and raised in some narrow, closed-off corner of the world, oblivious to how vast and wondrous it truly was. She guessed this foolish girl probably qualified on both counts.

“Kept insisting on seeing the young masters of the Si family…” Tao Yao nudged Steward Miao, smirking. “Don’t tell me she’s here to snatch one of them away in marriage? Didn’t you just say maybe some young lady’s gotten infatuated with your young master? Sounds like this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, hm?”

“What are you talking about, being cheeky at a time like this!” Steward Miao sighed helplessly. “If any young lady’s ever taken a fancy to the young master before, at least she was human—not a spirit.”

“What nonsense are you two spouting!” The girl, having tired herself out battering against the barrier, paused to rest, though her ears stayed sharp, glaring resentfully at them. “Who’s snatching whom in marriage? Who’s infatuated with whom? Isn’t this place supposed to be the renowned Qingmeng River Si estate—’the King of the Underworld judges life and death, the Si household resolves right from wrong’?”

Tao Yao and Steward Miao exchanged glances, both nodding. “That’s right.”

“Then why won’t you let me in?” She scrunched her nose in fury. “And why trap me here with spirit arts on top of it!”

“You’re a spirit yourself—do you have some prejudice against spirit arts?” Tao Yao could hardly keep from laughing outright. “Besides, that happens to be my own exclusive technique for sealing spirits—a skill you couldn’t learn in eight lifetimes.”

“I wouldn’t learn it even if you taught me!” The girl’s tongue remained sharp despite her clear disadvantage, refusing to back down. “I need to see the young masters of the Si family! I have a request to make!”

Steward Miao couldn’t help but sigh with a headache. “Well… young lady, we do things by the rules here. If you have a matter you need us to resolve, you must first submit a calling card, stating your background and the full details of the dispute. Only after my young master reviews it can he decide whether to see you.”

The girl froze, her anger giving way to anxiety. “No one told me that, and besides, I can’t read or write—I don’t know how to fill out any calling card.” As she spoke, her eyes reddened, and she grew increasingly self-reproachful. “It’s my fault… all my fault for not finding out properly beforehand. I thought if I could just see the young master and tell him myself, that would be enough… but I’ve been out here so long already, what do I do if I never get to see him?”

Though lacking the delicate, heart-wrenching fragility of a beauty in distress, the sight of this scrawny little spirit—practically balding herself—standing helpless and alone in the cold wind was still enough to stir some sympathy.

“What should we do about this…” Steward Miao glanced at Tao Yao. “By the rules, she ought to receive twenty strikes and be sent away.”

Tao Yao’s eyes rolled. “How about we make an exception this once?”

“This… are you certain she’s just a harmless little spirit?”

“Well, there’s some harm involved—those guards did get roughed up, after all…”

“Be serious!!”

“Being serious, if she really had great power, wouldn’t she have just carried off your young master already, instead of standing here like a fool throwing a tantrum at the two of us?”

“Fair point…”

Si Kuanglan set down the calling card in his hand, took a sip from his teacup, and murmured to himself, “Shen Feng?”

The ink on the unfolded card was still wet, bearing only four crooked, clumsy characters—Shen Feng, spirit.

One of the Si family’s rules was that a calling card had to be written by the petitioner’s own hand.

“Never had any schooling?” Si Kuanglan glanced at Steward Miao.

Steward Miao hurried to explain. “According to what she told us herself, she can’t read or write.”

Tao Yao quickly chimed in, putting on a look of great suffering. “Second Young Master, you have no idea—I spent two whole hours teaching her, stroke by stroke, to write those four characters! Never seen anyone with such poor aptitude.”

“Poor aptitude isn’t necessarily the issue—a poor teacher, on the other hand, is an iron-clad fact.” Si Kuanglan said flatly, then turned to Steward Miao. “Is the plum grove still intact?”

Tao Yao’s smile froze in place—her bid for credit had backfired spectacularly. Si Kuanglan’s talent for cutting her down would forever remain unmatched.

Steward Miao stifled a laugh. “The grove is entirely unharmed. Fortunately Girl Tao saw through the little spirit’s disguise in time and subdued her with her arts, so no damage was done.”

Steward Miao really was the best—the one warm presence in the whole Si household. Tao Yao shot him a glance of pure gratitude.

“Let her in.” Si Kuanglan glanced toward the door.

That easily? Before coming to see Si Kuanglan, Tao Yao had even discussed with Steward Miao how she’d need to paint this foolish spirit’s plight as the most tragic tale in history just to have any hope of moving him.

Tao Yao hurried out and brought in the spirit who’d been waiting anxiously outside the door, leading her into the hall.

Si Kuanglan glanced at her once and smiled. “The calling card only has your name and origin. Where’s the dispute?”

“Go on, speak up, the Second Young Master’s asking you.” Seeing the spirit standing there dumbstruck, Steward Miao quickly prompted her.

The one who called herself Shen Feng looked Si Kuanglan up and down several times, asking in disbelief, “You’re really the young master of the Si family?”

“Not what you expected?” Si Kuanglan picked up the military treatise he never seemed to tire of, a faint, almost-smile on his lips.

“I thought someone called the Living King of the Underworld would be fierce and imposing, built like an ox.” Shen Feng said bluntly. “But you don’t even look particularly strong.”

Tao Yao practically broke into a cold sweat on this foolish spirit’s behalf—focus on the matter at hand! Did she have any idea how petty this man could be, and here she was, bluntly telling him he “didn’t look particularly strong”…

Si Kuanglan’s gaze remained on the page. “And I thought something called a spirit would be capable of riding the clouds and cleaving mountains and seas—yet here you are, subdued by a stable hand of my household.”

There it was—instant retaliation. This young master truly never let anyone off easy.

“It’s simply that my skills fall short of hers. She may be a servant, but she’s a good person.” Shen Feng, utterly failing to catch the sarcasm directed at her, spoke every word with the utmost sincerity. “I’ve come from Huilong Village in Muzhou. The villagers there all depend on the Jinlin River for their livelihood, but curse this past year’s severe drought—the Jinlin River has all but dried up. I wanted to divert water from the nearby Baique River, but the spirit dwelling in that river not only refused to let me, but even declared it would make the Jinlin River dry up faster still. I tried reasoning with it—it wouldn’t listen. I tried fighting it—it beat me black and blue instead. So I’ve come to find you.”

As expected, whatever “dispute” troubled a spirit of this low a caliber could hardly be some world-shaking calamity—though it was rather pathetic that she’d lost. Losing to Tao Yao herself would be no shame, but losing to some nameless spirit in a minor river was genuinely embarrassing.

Then again, from another angle, a spirit willing to run herself ragged for the sake of villagers’ livelihoods shouldn’t be looked down upon.

“Miss Shen Feng, you may go home now.” Si Kuanglan set down the treatise and closed the calling card, handing it to Steward Miao.

Everyone froze for a moment. Steward Miao held the card, reluctant to hand it back to Shen Feng.

“You won’t help me?” This time Shen Feng caught on quickly enough, growing anxious. “I only want you to help subdue that spirit in the Baique River—whether through reasoning or through force, that’s my only goal. I don’t need help with anything else, I can manage that myself. Is even this small matter too much to ask?”

Tao Yao wanted to know Si Kuanglan’s reasoning too—she’d assumed he’d agree; it wasn’t such a troublesome request. Could it be that deep down, he still harbored some prejudice against spirits, unwilling to get too involved with them?

“Snow’s already begun falling in Muzhou, hasn’t it?” Si Kuanglan seemed to be speaking half to himself.

Shen Feng nodded.

“Too cold there. Better to stay somewhere warm through the winter.” Si Kuanglan took another sip of tea. “Besides, I’m not free these days—I’m planning to write a book on how to properly roast meat. My apologies, but I can’t help you.”

What kind of absurd excuse was that?!

But Tao Yao understood—no matter how ridiculous his reasons, once Si Kuanglan shook his head, nothing could make him nod.

“Steward Miao, see her out.” He gave a small yawn, his gaze already back on his treatise, refusing to look away again.

“But… there’s no one else who can help me!” Shen Feng suddenly dropped to her knees. “If I can’t defeat that spirit, the Jinlin River will dry up completely before long—people will die!”

“Digging channels and diverting water for irrigation falls under the local authorities’ responsibility. I suggest you hurry back and seek another solution.” Si Kuanglan remained unmoved, not sparing her another glance.

“Young Master Si!”

She tried to rush forward, but Steward Miao stepped in front of her in an instant, blocking her path to Si Kuanglan.

“Miss Shen, go on home.” Steward Miao placed the calling card back in her hands. “Once my young master’s decided something, there’s no changing it.”

Seeing this, Tao Yao stepped up and grabbed her arm. “Steward Miao’s right—our young master’s stubborn as a mule. Besides, didn’t you promise me? Once you got to see the young master, whatever he decided, you’d accept the outcome without making a scene.”

“I… but he…” Shen Feng’s face flushed red with urgency, torn between wanting to argue her case with Si Kuanglan and honoring her promise to Tao Yao, caught helplessly between the two, unable to move forward or back.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Tao Yao pulled her toward the door. “Making a scene won’t get you anywhere. Even if you hanged yourself right in front of him, the most he’d do is call someone to bury you.”

Si Kuanglan heard every word clearly, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly, though he said nothing.

Steward Miao followed them out, looking rather guilty, and said carefully to Shen Feng, “Don’t be too anxious now—there’s always a way to solve things. It’s getting late besides. Why not rest here at the estate for the night before heading back?”

Shen Feng pressed her lips tightly together, too aggrieved to say another word.

“All right, leave her to me—handling these little matters is exactly what a servant’s for.” Tao Yao pulled a face at Steward Miao, then poked her head out from the corridor, glancing up at the sky already dimming into dusk. Suddenly, with a sly grin, she asked, “Steward Miao, do you think it’ll rain today?”

“Huh?” Steward Miao looked up at the sky. “It’s clear today—unlikely.”

Steward Miao was wrong. It really did rain that day—a torrential downpour.

And strangest of all, this sudden storm fell only within the bounds of the Si estate.

Everyone in the household abandoned dinner altogether, scrambling to grab any container that could hold water, setting them beneath every leaking spot in every building, then hurrying to sweep the pooling water off the floors with brooms.

And then everyone saw that same young girl who had forced her way into the estate that afternoon, standing stubbornly outside the dining hall where Si Kuanglan sat, silent, unmoving—not even rain this heavy could wash the stubbornness and grievance from her face.

Si Jingyuan, freed early from his small, leaking dark room, had learned the full story of the afternoon’s events from Tao Yao’s embellished retelling, and had spent nearly an hour nagging Si Kuanglan, insisting that if the Second Young Master wouldn’t help, the eldest young master certainly could—it was such a small matter, why make things so hard for the poor girl, spirit or not, she was still a young girl after all.

Young Master Liu, too, couldn’t help grumbling that if Si Kuanglan weren’t so heartless, his dried vegetables drying in the kitchen’s back courtyard wouldn’t have turned to mush in the rain—what a waste, truly painful.

Shen Feng, meanwhile, had sent word that if the young master of the Si family refused to lend a hand, this rain would never stop.

None of the complaints or mutterings seemed to concern Si Kuanglan in the slightest. He didn’t even seem bothered by the prospect of the rain continuing until the entire estate became an ocean—he simply held his chopsticks and ate his dinner at his own pace, occasionally opening his mouth only to criticize some dish of Young Master Liu’s as an utter failure.

Tao Yao, too, behaved with unusual restraint that evening—eating her meal, sipping her soup, playing with Gungun, not once mentioning Shen Feng standing isolated in the rain. Every so often, some thought would cross her mind, and she’d break into a secretive little smile.

Beside her, Mo Ya watched her with growing worry, then glanced out at the pouring rain, trying several times to say something, only to have Tao Yao stuff his mouth with various vegetable dishes each time.

Si Kuanglan set down his bowl and chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and finally turned to look directly at Tao Yao. “Did you put her up to this?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Tao Yao denied it hastily, then smiled. “I merely had a little chat with her about her background, that’s all.”

“What is she?” Si Kuanglan asked with a smile.

Tao Yao gazed out the window at that lonely figure, a thoughtful look in her eyes, before finally speaking. “Bai… no, wait. The old texts say: a maple tree that has lived long enough, having absorbed the workings of heaven and earth, will inevitably produce beneath it a Maple-Born—always humanoid, male or female. After seven years taking form, it can walk on its own, but reverts to a stunted tree whenever it sees a person. Called Maple-Born Wood. Take it and cast it into fire, and it can be used to pray for rain.”

Mo Ya sighed for no apparent reason.

“Maple-Born?” Si Kuanglan considered this. “Never heard of it before. You say casting it into fire can summon rain, yet the one outside my window is standing there perfectly intact, using my household’s safety to threaten me instead.”

Tao Yao rose and walked to the window. Outside, Shen Feng still stood motionless as a statue, only her eyes holding any light—whether anxiety or hope, it was hard to say.

“For a Maple-Born, she’s already quite old. A rain like this hardly requires her to burn herself.” She spoke with her back to the room. “But then again, the more human it comes to look, the closer it draws to its death.”

Everyone, Si Kuanglan included, frowned slightly.

The rain grew louder still, as though it were the only sound left in all of heaven and earth. Beneath the eaves, the rain formed a curtain, sharply dividing the spirit who had staked everything on this single gamble from the group of people who had nothing to do with her at all.