Liao Tingyan had only intended to joke with Sima Jiao but unexpectedly trapped herself. Ever since he heard her jest, he became convinced she was an otter spirit.

Truthfully speaking, what kind of creature was an otter spirit? This previously unheard-of monster species—how could he accept it so naturally?

Not only did he accept it, he quite enjoyed it, frequently wanting her to transform into her “original form.” Liao Tingyan ignored him. She couldn’t continue indulging him like this. She was now a powerful figure, and no powerful figure would be so accommodating.

Liao Tingyan said, “Let me tell you, if you rub my belly again, I’ll turn you into a little chick.”

After thinking for a moment, she mischievously added, “Or into a snake. Your original form is a snake, you know?”

Sima Jiao had already “reasonably” deduced that in his previous life, he might have been a powerful snake spirit. He pinched Liao Tingyan’s cheeks, preventing her from sleeping, and said, “You can turn me into a snake, but you must become an otter yourself.”

This man was willing to become a snake just to pet an otter—what kind of obsession was this? Unlike her master’s ancestor, this Emperor couldn’t perfectly conceal his preferences. So actually, the previous Sima Jiao secretly wanted her to transform into an otter?

He must have liked it. Liao Tingyan recalled how he used to carry her everywhere on his person back then.

Unexpectedly, her master’s ancestor, despite his intimidating appearance, loved petting otters.

His previous attitude toward snakes was probably because snakes don’t have fur, right?

At the mountain stream behind the Summer Palace, a snake as thick as a thigh and a sleek-furred otter had frequently appeared these days. The otter would lie on the snake’s body, appearing remarkably intelligent.

…

The Marquis of Nanyan had finally gathered several extraordinary individuals, recruiting them with substantial rewards to assassinate Noble Consort Liao and the suddenly appeared young prince, or better yet, to simply kill Sima Jiao.

To cover for these individuals, the Marquis of Nanyan sacrificed many of his subordinates. The first two groups of assassins were merely used to lower Sima Jiao’s guard and divert his attention. This final group contained his trump cards. With help from the previous two groups, they had infiltrated the Summer Palace guards. These extraordinary individuals included those skilled in “face-changing,” silently replacing several inconspicuous palace servants.

They carefully timed their move, learning that the Emperor and Noble Consort would rest and cool off at the mountain stream in the afternoon. During this time, they would have no palace attendants serving them—the perfect opportunity to strike. The guards at the rear mountain were tight outside but loose inside; once they broke through the outer defenses, killing the “dog emperor” and Noble Consort would naturally be effortless.

True to their reputation as individuals the Marquis of Nanyan spent half his fortune to recruit, they successfully breached the defenses and arrived at the stream’s edge.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t they here?” A man with a high-pitched voice surveyed the stream, puzzled.

“There’s a wine jar soaking in the stream, this must be the place,” said the man with the most steady and vigilant gaze, pointing at the wine bottle floating in the water. “Perhaps they went upstream or downstream. We don’t have much time—let’s split up and search!”

A silent man with thin eyes and long eyebrows had already quickly proceeded along the stream without a word. Another slightly plump man with darting eyes suddenly pointed at a cluster of hanging orchid grass flowers by a pond, “Look, there’s a black snake! I can’t believe there’s such a thick black snake in these mountains!”

“Enough! Is this the time to care about black snakes or white snakes? Quickly find and kill the dog emperor and his Noble Consort—that’s the urgent matter!” The steady man glanced at the large snake in the stream that showed no interest in them, then averted his gaze.

After the four separated to search, the black snake beneath the orchid grass flowers raised its head, flicked its tongue in the direction they had gone, and then lowered its head again, continuing to coil in the water.

An otter lying on the snake’s body pushed aside the orchid grass used to shield from the sun, looked in the direction the men had disappeared, scratched the whiskers on its face with its paw, and suddenly spoke in human language: “More assassins again? These four assassins seem a bit different.”

They appeared to have touched the edge of cultivation, though not through proper channels. They hadn’t formally cultivated, merely mastering abilities slightly superior to ordinary people, perhaps from some unusual encounters.

After speaking with feigned seriousness, she felt it was about time for her grand entrance. She stood up, smoothing the wet fur on her belly: “Today I’ll show you my abilities.”

A snake tail pulled her back and coiled around her.

Sima Jiao, who had transformed into a black snake, said: “No need to bother. The servants outside will soon discover something amiss and come to capture them. Why are you running about in such hot sun?”

Wrapped in his tail, Liao Tingyan thought, why are you so skilled with your tail? You weren’t a snake before, were you?! How did you adapt to the role so quickly?

When she first transformed the Emperor into a snake, out of personal preference, she added red patterns. However, this Emperor refused, saying something like how little goose was a black snake, so why would he have patterns? He insisted she remove them, nearly making Liao Tingyan laugh herself sick.

She scratched the snake’s scales with her paw. “I want to show you how powerful I am now.”

Alas, without worthy opponents, she—a great overlord of the demonic realm—had to resort to dealing with a few petty thieves to demonstrate her abilities. It was like using a dragon-slaying sword to chop ants, or an intercontinental missile to shoot flies.

Sima Jiao said, “Stop fussing. It’s enough that I know you’re very powerful.”

Liao Tingyan lay back down. “I feel a bit stifled.”

Sima Jiao responded, “Hmm?” He casually acknowledged.

Liao Tingyan placed both hands on her abdomen. “You used to protect me. Whenever there was danger or we encountered enemies, you would do this—” She extended a paw and waved it once. “Just like that, you’d resolve everything.”

Simply put, she also wanted to show off in front of the Emperor. She was so powerful now, why didn’t she have opportunities to demonstrate? Was this combat prowess just for fun?

Sensing her melancholy, Sima Jiao raised his head. “Turn me back.”

They both reverted to human form. Sima Jiao casually arranged her hair and then led her to sit down. He retrieved a bottle of wine from the water, took a sip, and said, “Alright, let’s wait. When they can’t find anyone, they’ll return. Then you can handle them however you wish.”

To make his beauty smile, he was positioning himself as bait.

Liao Tingyan said, “…I feel like you’re calling me childish in your mind.”

Sima Jiao took another sip of wine, looking at her with an ambiguous smile, drawling, “Not at all—”

“They’re here!”

The four men returned. Before they could utter the essential villain lines like “Today you shall die by our blades,” they simultaneously felt a pain in their heads and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Liao Tingyan withdrew her hand after snapping her fingers, placed it behind her back, and turned to look at Sima Jiao, asking with dignity, “How was that?”

Sima Jiao set down the wine jar and calmly clapped twice. “Not bad.”

Liao Tingyan sat back beside him. “I feel like there’s no sense of achievement, no satisfaction.”

Sima Jiao said, “Maybe because you didn’t kill them.”

Liao Tingyan said, “I’ve caught them, and you’re not even asking about the mastermind behind this?” Usually in political drama plots, this was how scenes played out. She could still demonstrate the interrogation techniques of the fantasy world. Although not as powerful as Sima Jiao’s previous truth-compelling ability, it was completely effective on ordinary people.

Sima Jiao said, “Do I need to ask about something so simple?”

Liao Tingyan asked, “You know who it is?”

Sima Jiao replied, “The Marquis of Nanyan.”

The Marquis of Nanyan? So he’s the one who bullied my Emperor? Very well, you’ve offended the Demon Realm’s Overlord.

Liao Tingyan waved her hand, making the four men open their eyes and stand up. She looked at them, her expression cold, her pupils slightly moving, her tone suddenly ethereal and icy: “Return and deal with the Marquis of Nanyan.”

The four men suddenly awoke, appearing no different from before. However, when they looked at Liao Tingyan now, their eyes were filled with reverence and devotion. They knelt without hesitation: “Yes, Demon Overlord!”

Then the four departed without any reluctance.

Liao Tingyan turned around to find Sima Jiao watching her.

“What is it?” she asked.

Sima Jiao suddenly smiled, tilted his head back for another drink of wine, then said, “Your speech and actions always seemed familiar to me before, but just now… I feel I’ve never seen you like that.”

He smiled, bringing his warm palm to the side of Liao Tingyan’s neck. “It makes you somewhat unfamiliar to me.”

Liao Tingyan’s smile suddenly vanished. She turned her face slightly, avoiding Sima Jiao’s hand, looking toward the wine jar he had set down. “You’ve been away from me for seventeen years. I’m not unchanging forever.” Just like him—he didn’t used to enjoy drinking, but now he often indulged in small sips.

Sima Jiao embraced the back of her neck, pulling her back and pressing her head against his chest. “Why are you angry? Because I said ‘unfamiliar’?”

“As long as you stay by my side, all the unfamiliarity of today will become the familiarity of tomorrow.” He lowered his head, his lips touching Liao Tingyan’s ear, his posture extremely intimate, continuing in a low voice: “Besides, you’ve been seeking familiarity in me, wanting me to find familiarity in you, repeating scenes similar to the past. Doesn’t that tire you?”

Liao Tingyan: “…”

She felt her fingers tremble as if scalded, painfully. She hadn’t expected him to suddenly expose this point—to reveal her unspoken thoughts.

Sima Jiao was always like this. He appeared not to care about anything or notice but understood and knew everything.

He was like this before and remained so now.

Seventeen years—not a short time, at least not for her. She experienced a reunion after a long separation; for him, it was like meeting for the first time. She wasn’t skilled at love; she only knew his most familiar form. Whether the summer stream or the otter, these were what she remembered during this long time. He didn’t remember, so she recreated it all.

Liao Tingyan silently stood up and walked into the stream. She transformed herself into an ordinary small fish, mingling among a school of thumb-sized fish. She didn’t much want to speak with Sima Jiao now.

Sima Jiao ran a hand through his long hair and also entered the water. He bent down to look at the small fish, contemplating something, then reached down to catch fish. The small fish scattered as soon as his fingers descended, but Sima Jiao didn’t mind. He continued trying to catch fish as if determined to capture the Liao Tingyan playing hide-and-seek with him.

He moved back and forth in the stream, suddenly scooped up some water, closed his palms, and walked toward the shore, smiling as he said to his palms, “Alright, don’t be angry. Let’s go back.”

As he reached the shore, someone splashed water on his back. Liao Tingyan appeared behind him, frowning as she splashed him. “You caught the wrong fish!” What kind of eyesight did this man have?

Sima Jiao turned as if he had anticipated this, opening his hands—they contained only water, no fish. He sat on a large rock by the shore, legs apart, smiling as he propped his chin and watched her, looking quite mischievous.

He had done it deliberately; he was bluffing her.

Liao Tingyan exchanged glances with him briefly, then lay back in the water, transforming into a fish again. This time she truly didn’t want to deal with this fellow.

Sima Jiao returned to the water, reaching in to catch fish. The small fish all swam away together, except for one that floated rigidly in the water, motionless as if dead. Sima Jiao suppressed the laughter in his throat, cupping the fish with both hands, deliberately asking, “I didn’t catch the wrong one this time, did I?”

The rigid fish in his hands flipped over, facing him: “Pah—”

Sima Jiao burst into laughter, carrying her back.

In truth, he remembered quite a few things, just none that involved her, nor were they particularly pleasant memories.

“If you weren’t as you are now.”

“If you weren’t ‘Liao Tingyan.'”

“I would still like you.”

“Do you believe me?”

The fish blew a bubble: “…Why should I?”

Sima Jiao: “For no reason at all.”

Liao Tingyan: “You’re being mysterious.”

Sima Jiao: “Insincere flattery.” (lit: “Pretending to agree while secretly opposing,” using the character “she” which sounds like “snake”)

Liao Tingyan: “…” What idioms started with “snake”? Vicious and venomous? But the “she” in “insincere flattery” was pronounced like “yi,” which wouldn’t work.

Sima Jiao: “Hahahahaha!”

Liao Tingyan’s face darkened. Damn it, why did I suddenly start playing word games with him?!