In the restaurant’s third-floor private booth, with green bamboo curtains and wine fragrance filling the air, Lu Qianqiao lifted the bamboo curtain and couldn’t help but freeze—Lord Meishan was gone, leaving only a strange man leaning casually against the low table pouring wine. Seeing the two suddenly barge in, he showed neither surprise nor anger, merely a shallow smile.

“Ah…” Xin Mei didn’t know whether to feel relieved or something else. Lord Meishan wasn’t there, and the man who remained was called… Fu Jiuyun, right?

“Meishan has already slipped away,” he said leisurely, as if watching a good show. “You’re a moment too late.”

Lu Qianqiao never wasted words. He turned to leave, but Fu Jiuyun spoke again from behind: “Wait, what business do you have with him?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

The bamboo curtain swayed, and he was already outside.

“I know where he lives.”

One casually spoken sentence made the frost-covered man outside the curtain stop in his tracks. Fu Jiuyun poked his head out from behind the bamboo curtain, smiling carelessly: “Agree to one condition, and I’ll tell you where he lives.”

…

Spring wind carried flower petals through the window. Xin Mei couldn’t help but yawn, while Fu Jiuyun’s gentle voice responded from across: “Don’t move, I haven’t finished painting yet.”

She had no choice but to stiffen her entire body and resume her pose—standing by the window, holding a peach blossom branch with a smile that made her cheeks ache.

Just now they had clearly agreed to discuss conditions, and she had prepared herself to find an opportunity to slip away if the two started fighting. Who knew Fu Jiuyun would point at her and say: “Lend me this little miss. I’ll paint a portrait of her, then tell you where Meishan lives.”

Xin Mei was speechless.

Lu Qianqiao sat across from Fu Jiuyun, holding a wine cup, quietly gazing at the spring scenery outside the window, lost in thought. Several flower petals fell into his wine, but he noticed nothing and drank it down in one gulp.

“I’ve heard…” In the silence, Fu Jiuyun suddenly spoke. “In the far west, there’s a clan with ancient war-ghost bloodline. They all have red eyes with double pupils, features more pronounced than ordinary people, extremely proud by nature, and don’t easily become close to others. Whether male or female, all clan members must pass through an extremely dangerous threshold at age twenty-five, and more than half die at that age. I wonder if this is true?”

Lu Qianqiao said nothing.

“The war-ghost clan contributed greatly in the ancient divine-demon war, thus receiving the blessing of heavenly gods, granting them earth-shaking abilities. Unfortunately, this is now the age of hidden gods. Without divine protection, the war-ghost clan is gradually declining, and that twenty-five-year threshold has become a fatal wound. I imagine the war-ghost clan must be worried about this situation?”

Lu Qianqiao finally moved. He set down his wine cup, voice calm: “What do you mean by telling me this?”

Fu Jiuyun smiled: “No particular meaning. I’m just not like Meishan—I don’t understand these secret matters. As for how war-ghosts with mixed ordinary bloodlines pass through that threshold, I know nothing at all. These things, you can only ask him about.”

With that, he suddenly clapped his hands: “Where is Qin Niang? Bring wine, bring music.”

A beautiful young woman indeed entered from behind the bamboo curtain, filled wine for all three, then withdrew. Shortly after, the clear sound of a qin flowed like spring water, somewhat easing the stagnant atmosphere in the private room.

Father had said that men who spend money carousing with women outside are no good, and this person embodied both traits completely. Xin Mei rolled her eyes disdainfully.

Fu Jiuyun tapped the low table: “Little miss over there, don’t let your eyelids twitch—it looks ugly.”

Ahhh! She really wanted to jump out the window!

Watching the sun set in the west, Fu Jiuyun finally finished that portrait. He seemed quite satisfied with it himself, smiling as he looked at it for a long while before beckoning to Xin Mei: “Come see for yourself.”

She dragged her aching legs over for a glance and was immediately stunned.

Who was that head-high, chest-out, supremely confident beauty in the painting?!

Fu Jiuyun smiled proudly: “You’re still very green now, completely lacking in feminine charm. The painting shows how you might look two years older—this great master kindly aged you up. Use this as your goal and work hard to grow up, understand?”

Xin Mei was moved to tears: “Though you’re full of bad intentions, I never expected you to paint so well! Amazing!”

His motion to hand over the painting stopped. He smiled kindly and asked: “…What did you just say?”

“Amazing!”

“The sentence before that.”

“I never expected you to paint so well!”

“Before that.”

“You’re full of bad intentions.”

He neatly folded the painting paper and tucked it into his sleeve, then dismissed them with waning interest: “That’s enough for today. Meishan lives at Meishan Residence on Baitou Mountain to the south. Go find him yourselves.”

What was wrong with him? Was he suddenly feeling unwell? Xin Mei scratched her head in confusion, then was immediately dragged downstairs by Lu Qianqiao.

Fu Jiuyun turned back to ask Qin Niang: “Do you have a mirror?”

Qin Niang blushed as she handed him a small bronze mirror. He looked at himself straight on, from the side, backwards, upside down.

Where exactly was he “full of bad intentions”?

What a depressing question…

Lu Qianqiao walked extremely fast. After leaving the restaurant, he headed south at a rapid pace. Xin Mei had to jog along with him, patting her belly as she ran—she was hungry… but this heartless whoremonger general definitely wouldn’t kindly let her eat.

At times like this, she really had to rely on self-sufficiency.

Her sharp eyes spotted a sesame cake stall by the roadside. The owner had just arranged the fresh-from-oven cakes in neat rows, still steaming hot. Xin Mei reached out and grabbed four pieces, tossed down several copper coins with her other hand, and called back while being dragged forward: “I paid for them!”

Taking a bite of the sesame cake—pure duck fat, what an honest vendor. She ate three in one go, her hands all greasy. Unable to find a handkerchief to wipe them, she suddenly noticed Lu Qianqiao’s flowing robes ahead—the fabric looked quite soft…

Secretly grabbing a section of his blue robe, she vigorously wiped her hands. Just as she lowered her head to wipe her mouth, he suddenly stopped. Unable to brake in time, Xin Mei crashed hard into his back, bounced back several steps, was yanked forward again by whatever demon-binding rope he held, and finally he caught her.

Looking up, she saw an inn before them. Xin Mei covered her face in shock. Was he… was he about to stage the old cliché of a lonely man and woman spending the night in the same room, with ambiguous entanglement and hearts racing a thousand times?!

Oh no, this guy couldn’t succeed with force, so now he was trying romance! Must be vigilant, vigilant…

Lu Qianqiao glanced at her, seeing the myriad expressions crossing her face, and said: “I know what you’re thinking.”

Huh? Her poor little heart began racing…

He smiled, somewhat mockingly: “Too bad you’ll be disappointed.”

He pulled her along to continue walking, walking and walking… then they left the city.

…

So cold and rigid, no wonder the Emperor demoted him to guard the Imperial Tomb… Xin Mei tearfully crouched in some deep mountain forest in the suburbs, building a fire. The demon-binding rope was tied to a tree that would take ten people to encircle. Unless she possessed the divine strength to move mountains and cover the world, she’d better obediently build the fire.

When Lu Qianqiao returned with a water pouch, the fire was burning brightly. He removed an unremarkable small pouch from his waist, taking out an iron frame, a small iron pot, a bag of flour, several pieces of dried meat, and various bowls, chopsticks, and seasonings. Xin Mei’s eyes went wide.

She’d heard there was a treasure in this world called a Qiankun Bag, made by some craftsman from Zhou Yue Kingdom who became immortal hundreds of years ago. Outwardly unremarkable, like a half-worn money pouch, but inside it could contain heaven and earth. That immortal had made fewer than ten Qiankun Bags total. Besides one preserved in Qiong Kingdom’s imperial palace, the rest were lost to history. She never expected this stone-faced lord to possess such a treasure.

He poured water into the pot, set it over the fire, kneaded dough, pinched it into small dumplings to drop in the water, then added some wild vegetables and dried meat. As he did these things, he was very natural and skillful, as if he’d done such ordinary tasks thousands of times before. The formidable cavalry general people talked about, the war-ghost with mixed ordinary bloodline, the bandit trying to extend wolf claws toward innocent girls—all seemed somewhat distant now.

He added seasonings to the pot, simmered it briefly, and fragrance filled the air. Xin Mei was instantly so enticed her eyes couldn’t leave the pot, though thinking carefully, this person definitely wouldn’t give her food. She could only take out the last duck-fat sesame cake from her bosom, hesitating whether to eat it.

“Time to eat.” He ladled a bowl of the cooked dumpling soup and placed it by her feet.

Xin Mei stared for a long time before reacting: “Uh, thank… thank you…”

Taking a careful sip of the soup—savory with a touch of spice. Though she wasn’t used to this flavor, it was unexpectedly delicious. While drinking the soup, Xin Mei secretly watched firelight dancing across his face.

He seemed to have many worries…

She cleared her throat: “There’s nothing in this world that can’t be overcome…”

So hurry up and release me! she screamed internally.

Lu Qianqiao looked at her with some surprise, seeing her eyes bright and shining, full of hopeful light. He turned his head away again, voice calm: “Sleep after eating.”

Just you wait! I don’t believe you have no weaknesses!

Xin Mei moved away from the fire, spread her blanket over the spot, and curled up with her clothes on, pretending to sleep while keeping her eyes barely cracked open to spy on his silhouette. He sat motionless under the tree with his back to her. The mountain forest was utterly silent in the deep night, with only the crackling of the fire. After an unknown length of time, Xin Mei thought he might be asleep and quietly reached into her bosom, planning to release Qiuyue to knock him out.

The moment she moved, he turned around as if he had eyes in his back, looking at her mockingly.

“What are you trying to do?” His mood seemed to have improved somewhat—this question was asked quite leisurely.

Xin Mei smiled sheepishly: “No-nothing… seems like an insect bit me…”

“I know you have a powerful spirit beast.” Lu Qianqiao smiled slightly, his smile full of killing intent. “If you don’t want to eat roasted pelican tomorrow, sleep quietly.”

Roasted pelican—he meant to roast Qiuyue and eat her?! The talisman-form Qiuyue in her bosom also shuddered three times, shrinking deeper inside.

Xin Mei tearfully turned over to sleep. She had to admit he was formidable.