He saw it?!

Wei Ping clutched the red leaf in his palm, letting his long sleeve hang down to conceal it completely.

Did Song Qian Ji see the red leaf? Did he notice my expression change?

The leaf was an ordinary object with no trace of magical energy lingering on it, like a six-sided snowflake drifting among plum blossoms, coming and going silently without alarming anyone.

Where was the person who sent the leaf?

Had they just passed by the courtyard wall?

Thin snow, cold wind, falling plum blossoms.

“Are you all right?” Song Qian Ji asked softly. “Are you cold?”

Seeing his normal expression, Wei Ping forced a smile and shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m not cold.”

“Who said there would be ‘Cloud Stirring’ today? Am I late?”

A loud laugh descended. Ji Chen strode into the courtyard, his red-flowered cloak with golden base billowing in the wind, its collar trimmed with thick white fox fur, cutting a dashing figure.

Wei Ping looked up, a cold glint flashing through his eyes and disappearing.

Could it be Ji Chen? He oversees the formations in Song’s academy. The leaf just arrived, and he appeared.

Impossible, he doesn’t have the brains for it.

“You’re early. I haven’t prepared the sauce bowls yet. Why don’t we go to the market for some barbecue? What does Master Song think?” Wei Ping maintained perfect composure.

Ji Chen complained, “Snowy days call for hotpot! The rolling broth like waves, meat slices like rosy clouds—’ Waves surge on the clear river like snow, wind turns and reflects the evening glow.’ What’s the point of barbecue? It doesn’t suit the occasion. Besides, your ‘Thousand Channels Sixteen Spices’ marinade has already been exported overseas. Do we need to eat out?”

Wei Ping smiled. “That restaurant’s chef learned the authentic technique from me and even improved the marinade recipe. Their charcoal and oil are superior quality.”

Ji Chen was skeptical. “Better than ‘Thousand Channels Sixteen Spices’?”

“Of course. In Hong Fu County, gourmets queue up half a month in advance for a reservation just to taste a piece of freshly grilled meat.”

Song Qian Ji knew that Wei Ping owned the restaurant and that the chef was formerly a cook by the canal. “Let’s go and try it.”

…

Though snow was falling, the long street was warm, bright, and bustling.

Lights sparkled brilliantly, bright as day, with streams of people flowing like the tide.

As the three went out, Ji Chen ran ahead:

“Tian City has truly changed. Brother Wei, you’ve opened up the Thousand Channels trade routes. You once said that someday, Tian City would be lit all night, a place everyone yearns for. I think it’s almost there.”

Wei Ping didn’t answer.

He hadn’t wanted to stay in the courtyard where the red leaf fell but now regretted leaving even more.

He stayed close to Song Qian Ji, his gaze unfocused. Wealthy merchants driving tall horses, peddlers pushing donkey carts, old vendors hawking goods, young shop assistants soliciting business, drooling infants in women’s arms, young girls laughing together—every passerby…

His mind was troubled; everyone looked like a ghost, like an assassin coming to kill Song Qian Ji.

Ji Chen noticed something amiss. “Wei Ping, why are you so absent-minded tonight?”

Song Qian Ji turned to look at Wei Ping. “If you’re tired, we can go back.”

Tonight he wore a veil, so others couldn’t see his face or expression.

Not by his choice—a celestial official wandering the streets at night could easily be surrounded by excited commoners, causing traffic jams.

“I’m not tired,” Wei Ping invented an excuse. “I just saw a girl passing under the lanterns. She was very beautiful, which is why I was staring.”

Unexpectedly, Ji Chen immediately perked up. “My sister is also beautiful. What do you think of her? Would you consider her? You sent her snow frog soup with red date flowers—was that a sign of interest? She praised you to me yesterday, saying your future partner would be fortunate to eat your cooking every day. Remarkable! One loves to eat, one loves to cook—a match made in heaven, perfectly aligned, simply meant to be…”

Song Qian Ji couldn’t help but smile.

Wei Ping said, “Brother Ji, if not for tonight, I might have forgotten what a chatterbox you are.”

If it were Meng He Ze, he would have turned and slipped away, but Wei Ping changed the subject:

“We’re here. This is my restaurant. I hope Brother Ji will honor us with his presence.”

Customers waiting outside were all swallowing and sniffing. The fragrance of oil, meat, and spices blended into a complex and unique aroma that captivated the senses.

Ji Chen looked up. “‘Taiping Records’? Why would you name a barbecue restaurant ‘Records of Great Peace’? The signboard is so ordinary.”

“My name means ‘Peace,’ which is ordinary in itself.”

Ji Chen spun around on the spot, pointing here and there. “Look at ‘Wealth Records’ on the left, ‘Prosperity Records’ on the right, and across the street, there’s even the branch store of Hong Fu’s top merchant ‘Splendor Pile’ silk shop. Their signboards are all bigger and brighter than yours. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Wei Ping was speechless.

“I think the name is quite good,” Song Qian Ji looked up at the sign. “It’s easy to enjoy wealth, but difficult to achieve peace. The calligraphy is also good.”

Ji Chen was surprised. “Brother Wei, did you write this signboard yourself? Master Song was the top candidate in the calligraphy examination. At the Star-Plucking Platform, he issued a hero’s challenge that defeated all literary heroes in the world. If he says your calligraphy is good, it must be excellent!”

“I—I’ve practiced a little. Master Song is being too kind.”

The speaker meant nothing by it, but the listener took it to heart. Wei Ping’s breathing became slightly irregular.

“Benefactor Wei, you’ve arrived! Please come in!”

Fortunately, the attendant at the door was quick-witted. Recognizing Wei Ping immediately, he ushered them in and led them to a private room on the second floor.

The customers waiting at the door looked envious. “They must be the legendary Celestial-level VIPs.”

Another person cherished his number token. “After two more meals, I’ll reach Earth-level! Not far to go!”

“I’m still at the Yellow level. Besides eating up to Celestial level, is there any other way to skip the queue?”

“Yes, we could move from Hong Fu to Thousand Channels, apply for work at the Celestial Official’s Office, and earn the title of ‘Canal Pioneer’ or ‘Road Pioneer.’ Then we wouldn’t just skip the queue—we’d get discounts too.”

“That’s practically impossible!”

Song Qian Ji overheard this and secretly smiled at Wei Ping’s creativity and resourcefulness.

The grill smoked, vapor swirling, sizzling loudly.

Freshly cut meat slices were bright red and thin, with evenly distributed marbling that instantly changed color when heated. A pair of chopsticks picked them up and pressed them into the sauce bowl.

The marinated skewers had an even richer flavor. With one bite, juices splattered.

Ji Chen ate without raising his head. Bowls and chopsticks clattered, creating a melody.

Wei Ping didn’t eat himself, only grilling meat and preparing sauce for Song Qian Ji. “It’s snowing outside, and inside we have snowflake beef. Is this fitting for the occasion now?”

Ji Chen mumbled, “Very fitting, very fitting! So fragrant, so fragrant!”

Song Qian Ji said, “I’ll do it myself.”

Sometimes the other’s excessively attentive care made him uncomfortable.

Even a son wouldn’t serve his father in everything, would he?

Wei Ping was about to refuse when he suddenly heard a faint singing voice:

“White blade, unjust grudge; golden coins, emptying wealth. Kill in this mortal world; repayment comes in an instant…”*

Their private room faced the street, and the singing voice, tinged with drunkenness, drifted in intermittently from outside.

“Someone’s singing on the second floor of the silk shop across the street?” Ji Chen asked excitedly.

Wei Ping lowered his eyes, his black pupils slightly cold.

In his ears, a transmitted message sounded: “Wei Zhen Yu, do you think I look like a girl?”