“Is it too late to call you now?” Long Xingyu asked. “But I thought you might be having dinner earlier, and before that, I figured you were probably filming on set, so it never seemed like a good time. If I don’t call now, you’ll be going to bed soon.”
“I’m not asleep yet,” Yu Ruoyun replied.
“I went into your house,” Long Xingyu said. “It doesn’t look great.”
“Some people say that,” Yu Ruoyun responded, “but it doesn’t stop them from living there.”
Long Xingyu asked directly, “Why is Jiang Yu’s trophy at your place?”
“The Lifetime Achievement Award?” Yu Ruoyun asked. “His mother gave it to me.”
“What?!” Long Xingyu was genuinely surprised and wanted to ask more but couldn’t find the words.
“I exchanged it for the inheritance he left me. A large sum of money.”
“……”
Yu Ruoyun added, “Just kidding. His mother gave it to me, saying she felt it was more fitting for me to keep it as a memento.”
“I think she might have guessed the relationship between Jiang Yu and me. But being an elderly lady, she didn’t want to break the ice directly. I wonder if Jiang Yu would have been happy if his mother knew while he was still around.”
Long Xingyu was stunned. He hadn’t considered this before. “What are you saying?”
“I didn’t think much about it before. Keeping it secret seemed normal, given how this is not yet widely accepted,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But now that I think about it, it’s really meaningless. I only saw what his home looked like on a variety show. He wouldn’t let me visit, saying there was a high chance of being photographed, like we’d be courting death.”
Unable to afford a house in Beijing, Jiang Yu decided to rent in a neighborhood filled with celebrities. He didn’t think it was that great, but since the stars lived there, he had to live there too, even though paparazzi were always staking out with high-definition cameras outside.
“Are you sitting on the sofa now?” Yu Ruoyun asked.
“Yeah.” Long Xingyu thought it was a pointless question. Otherwise, where would he sit? On the floor?
“Is it the right side?” Yu Ruoyun continued, “He liked to sit on the right side.”
Long Xingyu looked and realized he was indeed sitting on the right side. “No, I’m sitting on the left.”
“The last time he was in this house, he sat on my right, and we were watching TV,” Yu Ruoyun said. “He was watching and suddenly told me, ‘Don’t you think being an actor is an exceptionally easy and cheap job?’”
That’s exactly what Jiang Yu said. If he recalled, he could remember everything they talked about that day.
“It’s too easy,” Jiang Yu wrapped himself in a big blanket, thought for a moment, then shared half with Yu Ruoyun, draping it over Yu Ruoyun’s legs. “Look at these people. Whether they can sing, whether they can dance, whether they can keep up with the beat, you can see at a glance. But acting is different. The audience might not have the ability to appreciate it, and the actors might not even know themselves. Crying when sad, laughing when happy—that’s supposed to be qualified acting. So now any kind of people want to act.”
He was just chatting casually, never expecting Yu Ruoyun to remember.
“Recently, I met his mother because of the awards ceremony and talked about his past,” Yu Ruoyun said, sounding like he was closing a window, with the wind whistling in. “She said that when Jiang Yu was young, there was a period when they had a huge falling out because he broke free from her control, and she was unwilling to accept it. Once Jiang Yu told her, ‘You’ve taken me to so many places. You think I don’t know how those teachers evaluated me? My vocal range isn’t wide enough, my sense of pitch isn’t good enough, my flexibility is lacking, I’ve practiced instruments, and it’s just not good enough. No matter how hard I try, I can’t be the best. But acting is different. Anyone can act. No one can dictate who the final winner is. This is my own path. You have no right to choose it for me.’”
Long Xingyu was almost furious. This was years ago. What was wrong with his mother, telling Yu Ruoyun everything. “Maybe he said that just to convince his parents. Acting isn’t that easy to win at either.”
“Is that so?” Yu Ruoyun asked softly. “Maybe you’re right. But that day, I went back and remembered the last time we sat on that sofa watching TV. On TV was a boy band whose name I don’t remember. He told me that anyone could act, and I thought he was talking about the people on TV.”
“I wondered if, that night, he was actually talking about himself.”
Long Xingyu found it absurd. This absurdity even made his heart tighten. “He’s been dead for a year, and you’re still obsessing over something he said. Aren’t you too bored?”
His voice was loud, echoing in the living room. He felt guilty. Yes, it had been a year since he died. A year after his death, Long Xingyu realized Yu Ruoyun understood Jiang Yu far better than he ever imagined. He knew the vulnerability behind Jiang Yu’s strength, why Jiang Yu was attracted to Yu Ruoyun, and why he was tormented by Yu Ruoyun. Those things and that person, he longed for while also feeling unworthy of them.
Yu Ruoyun knew what kind of person Jiang Yu was, so why did he still remember him so fondly?
Long Xingyu, or rather Jiang Yu, couldn’t understand.
Yu Ruoyun stopped talking. “Keep staying there. I’ll come back in a few days.”
The call ended. Jiang Yu sat on the right side of the sofa. The TV opposite was switched off, reflecting his face.
Even though he had a younger face and a healthier body, even though he had once tried, he still couldn’t become someone else.
……
Yu Ruoyun’s filming today was somewhat difficult.
He and the director rarely had a disagreement. Today’s scene involved the protagonist’s long-time girlfriend being killed by the villain, and when the protagonist returns, it’s too late. He holds her body and breaks down in tears.
Yu Ruoyun suggested, “I think maybe we could handle it differently.”
Yu Ruoyun felt that the scene didn’t need tears. For the protagonist, he indeed had an emotional breakdown, but tears weren’t necessary to express it. Silence could also convey despair, and Yu Ruoyun had the capability to express it.
The director said, “I understand what you mean, but the audience might not. They’ll just think, ‘The protagonist’s woman just died. Why isn’t he reacting?’”
They compromised in the end. The character didn’t hold his girlfriend and say he’d avenge her—he didn’t say a word—but tears mixed with the artificial rain. The close-up was enough to clearly show the protagonist’s pain.
On the way back, when he received Long Xingyu’s call, Yu Ruoyun had been thinking about Jiang Yu.
In the long year, he hadn’t shed a single tear for Jiang Yu’s death. The director said the audience wouldn’t understand not crying when one’s loved one died, and he thought about this.
But he wasn’t qualified.
The author has something to say:
It might be hard to believe, but things are about to get sweet…
Nol was leaning over the small dining table in his room.
He would take some snacks, like fried dumplings and sugar cakes, from the cafeteria of the Lost Tower. For formal dinners, he preferred to eat alone with Teest. Being alone with his lover was one aspect, and on the other hand…
Teest commanded the hot stew to plate itself. After all, even after being cooked, these things were once part of a “living thing”. A skill originally meant for destruction and death had become an ingenious trick for someone’s no-wash soup spoon. Before serving, Teest skillfully took out a piece of dragon carcass, adding a loving touch to Nol’s dinner.
Nol took the bowl with mixed feelings.
Here it comes, a literal “energy supplement”. He had already joined the ranks of False Gods, and his daily attribute devouring continued.
When taking away the little black dragon and the old couple, Teest brought his magical bag and took a large tour around the dragon’s tomb. Nol suspected he had touched every corpse.
“I heard they’re hosting a welcome banquet for that little black dragon.” Teest casually untied his apron. “I thought you would be there throughout.”
“Just in case. My condition might not always be this stable,” Nol said. “Besides, if we were there, Perradat wouldn’t be able to let loose.”
This was an excellent opportunity to indirectly observe the God of Fate, and Officer Luo and Miss Lynn took on this glorious task.
…And Nol really wasn’t good at these team-building dinner-like occasions. Of course, our Mr. Demon King wouldn’t make this point clear.
“You’re becoming more and more like a Demon King, honey.” Teest scooped up a spoonful of stew with satisfaction.
His specialty, red wine braised meat, paired with freshly baked bread, and fruit liqueur that had been boiled to remove the alcohol.
Nol didn’t like salad much and had brought some stir-fried vegetables from the cafeteria ahead of time. Teest wasn’t interested in these green leaves, and as the master of the dinner menu, he decided to generously ignore them.
“Too much has happened recently. I also want to rest properly.” Nol sincerely stated.
The dirt on the body could be removed with a cleansing spell, but the awkwardness in the heart couldn’t be waved away. He needed a long, genuine hot bath and a good sleep with an empty mind.
“Well, that means no joint hot bath then.” Teest shrugged.
Maybe he could take the opportunity to maintain his sword and armor, he thought. This feeling was quite peculiar. With only Nol and himself in the room, it almost felt like they were living a normal person’s life.
Even though they were the furthest thing from “normal people”.
Nol seriously took off his robe and went into the bathroom. Teest glanced over, fixing his gaze on the pile of clothes—Nol’s pendant and the communication crystal were placed on top of the neatly folded clothes.
Teest gave a sidelong glance at the pendant, and after a few seconds, he quietly stood up and tiptoed closer.
The ancient Demon King’s tricolor bead, the Lost Tower key, and their wedding ring. The pendant was as before, but now when Teest looked at it again, that faint sense of discomfort had diminished a lot.
Teest suddenly felt that their wedding ring seemed much more prominent than before. Neither the tricolor bead nor the Lost Tower key stood out as much as the ring.
His Nol had made a choice. Nol didn’t sacrifice himself for those two things but chose to continue forward with him. Teest loved this feeling. He didn’t even have to pull on the golden thread, yet the other was walking towards him step by step.
It was this ring… um…
Wasn’t it a system gift, given to them in the name of the Goddess of Life? Did it count as something from Star Stealer Sol…?
How unpleasant. Teest extended a finger and poked the ring with some irritation.
Hmm, really quite ordinary.
Teest glared at it dissatisfied. As a testament to their relationship, it should be more special, better, and preferably have nothing to do with Star Stealer Sol at all.
While he was scratching at the ring, Nol’s communication crystal suddenly lit up. A silent text message appeared on the surface of the crystal—a common practice when the communicator didn’t want to be detected by their surroundings.
[Golden Sword, Black Forest, in poor condition. Accept him? — Painter]
Golden Sword in poor condition?
Teest: [Close to death?]
[Not to that extent. Good evening, Mad Monk.] Painter quickly recognized Teest.
Alright, Golden Sword wasn’t in life-threatening danger. Since Painter found him, he surely wouldn’t let him die in the wilderness, so why should they care about his life or death? Teest instinctively wanted to refuse. His fingertip was just about to touch the crystal, but he glanced at the wedding ring.
“Honey.” Teest opened the bathroom door, sticking his head in. “Golden Sword is injured in the Black Forest. Should we care? I suggest we don’t.”
Nol was blowing bubbles with the lower half of his face submerged in water. When Teest appeared, he almost choked.
“Mr. Billy?” He coughed several times.
“Yes, Painter found him,” Teest sincerely added. “He’s unsure whether to bring him to Paradise for treatment. I suggest we don’t.”
Nol sighed heavily, seeming like his plan to “sleep with an empty head” was ruined for the night.
Golden Sword Enbillick Alva…
“We can’t just let him into Paradise.” After pondering for a moment, Nol made a decision. Teest was about to agree happily, but before he could finish—
“But we can’t just ignore him either.” Mr. Kind-hearted Nol stated. “Let’s go out, just you and me, and bring some potions. Don’t look at me like that. With Mr. Billy, we can investigate the Alva Merchant Group more smoothly.”
“A quiet night, a soft bed, a refreshing lover. Boom! All gone!” Teest slowly retracted his head, his voice becoming muffled. “So, how shall we meet Mr. Billy?”
“The Landus and Ross brothers? The mysterious Master of the Tower and his monster knight? Teesti and Noli? Oh, of course, there’s the most classic. Hero Drake, and his lovely succubus companion…”
Though he said this, Teest’s tone didn’t sound very approving.
In fact, none were suitable.
Golden Sword was of uncertain allegiance. They couldn’t brazenly cooperate under the banner of Paradise. Nol had appeared before Golden Sword too many times. Not to mention Billy, an old fox not inferior to Painter, even an ordinary person could sense something… He wasn’t suitable to appear again.
Teest hadn’t appeared before Billy much, and the “Drake” identity was perfect for him. However, when investigating an information-rich conglomerate, Teest couldn’t just wander around with a famous face.
So—
“Wow,” After hearing Nol’s plan, Teest exclaimed. “Your head is really getting weirder and weirder. I know Golden Sword has a sharp eye, but your approach is really…”
The Mad Monk might be mad, but at least his thinking was still within the “human” range. Once Mr. Nol let go, his thinking became indescribably, well, unique.
“The more unexpected, the better,” Nol said. “I can handle my part. You do your best.”
They said this while standing in front of a neighbor who had transformed into a Swamp Witch. This neighbor still had a piece of a sauce-flavored pancake in her mouth while she looked at them with eyes full of shock. Just having heard their request, her sauce-flavored pancake almost fell out of her mouth.
“Alright, just like he said.” Teest opened his arms to the innocent neighbor. “Curse me, miss.”
“I’m not a miss. I mean, uh, alright.” The Swamp Witch wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. “But are you sure…”
“I can break a curse of this level myself. Just in case, I’ll ask Lynn to make a puppet that seals skills.” Nol stated, “We are certain.”
The Swamp Witch looked at them for a while with an expression that was hard to describe as she struggled to swallow the pancake in her mouth. She drank several cups of water and then cleared her throat.
A dark purple aura of a curse flickered into existence. It tumbled in place for a while, then surged towards Teest. Accompanied by a dim light, the Mad Monk’s figure vanished.
Nighttime.
Ye Meng—Black Dragon Imnarka—crouched on the tower’s top, touched by the view before her. After arriving in Paradise, the last bit of fear in her heart dissipated.
When disaster struck Joy Garden, her parents weren’t home. This meant she didn’t have to worry about her parents. She just needed to persevere. In the Dragon’s Lair, this was still a challenging task. But in the Lost Tower, she was almost happy.
Here, she could eat seasoned cooked beast meat to her heart’s content and chat with various uncles and aunties. Everyone took good care of her, and she did her best to protect everyone—like creating poisonous moving swamps and fearsome necrotic fogs near the Lost Tower.
The only drawback… There was a middle school teacher in Joy Garden, who turned into a chimera and was very willing to tutor her. With so many loving monster eyes staring at her, Ye Meng really couldn’t refuse.
She was going to start lessons tomorrow. The Black Dragon’s tail moved around the tower’s spire, suddenly wishing the night would last a bit longer.
Suddenly, an unknown aura burst out of the tower. The Black Dragon’s pupils contracted sharply, her large dragon eyes flickering with light, aiming in the direction of the aura’s emergence. Her dragon instincts warned her that two powerful beings had left the Lost Tower.
The moment she saw the two figures through the night fog, she suddenly became uncertain again.
A blob of black, a blob of white, both round and tiny. The two peculiar figures swayed up and down in the night, quickly disappearing without a trace.
Ye Meng: “……”
How strange.
There were many monsters in the tower, but few had talents that matched a giant dragon. The little Black Dragon could probably guess who those two were, but… never mind. Children shouldn’t worry about adult matters, she solemnly thought.
“What’s up, kid?” Inside the skull dangling on her chest, Grandma Li asked with concern.
“It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, then hurry down. Oh dear, it’s too high.” Inside another skull, Lao Chen’s voice trembled.
The little black dragon flapped her wings and flew back into the tower. Before leaving, she looked back one more time—the two tiny shadows were completely swallowed by the Black Forest, leaving no trace.
……
On the edge of the Black Forest, an abandoned hunter’s cabin.
“I’ll leave you with enough food and water since you insist on staying here,” Painter said. “If you ask me, this isn’t a solution. You’re afraid to go to Grape Collar for fear of revealing your whereabouts, but going to Silver Windmill Village is also an option. I wouldn’t mind taking half a day to carry you there.”
Billy shook his head. Compared to not long ago, he looked somewhat better. At least his lips had some color.
“Don’t worry. My luck has always been good,” he said. “Didn’t I run into you?”
Painter: “If your luck was a bit better, I would be a bored young hunter. Unfortunately, you met me, a cursed leader with tasks to do in the cold.”
Actually, Golden Sword was right, Painter thought. Nol made it clear he would take over, so this legendary Mr. Billy certainly wouldn’t die anytime soon since that one decided to come personally.
It was just that this investigation into the Alva Merchant Group really involved a struggle between gods. No matter how he thought about it, it wasn’t appropriate for him, a mere mortal, to continue intervening.
This time, he’d better take the mercenary group to the Lost Tower to eat… Ahem, to stand guard.
“Anyway, I’m off.” Painter patted the doorstep, knocking off a pile of snow. “Good luck, Golden Sword.”
“Good luck, Godfrey.” Golden Sword Billy, wrapped in a blanket, showed a weak smile. Before he finished speaking, he coughed hoarsely.
Painter walked into the night without looking back.
Less than half an hour after he left, he saw a light. The owner of the light had a restrained aura, making it hard to gauge their strength. Enemy? Or someone from Paradise?
Painter restrained his own aura and quickened his pace. The light paused momentarily before quickly moving in Painter’s direction.
Upon getting closer, Painter fell silent.
He knew who this person was, and the other had no intention of hiding—
The man in front of him was dressed in a somewhat worn gentleman’s attire, clean and tidy without being flashy, understated to perfection. He wore gold-rimmed round glasses on his nose, with delicate chains hanging on either side, and his long gray hair tied back.
In his hand, he held a lantern-like staff, emitting a moonlight-like silver-blue soft light, illuminating everything nearby with incredible brightness.
A Player, the leader of “Hermitage”, Mentor.
Needless to say, this person was here to visit Paradise.
“So, you’re the leader of the Drifting Mercenaries.” Mentor nodded at Painter. “Good evening, sir. Is there a place nearby to stay overnight?”
“Are you walking here alone?” Painter raised an eyebrow.
“I had no choice. The younger ones are too slow, so I had to start moving on my own,” Mentor answered with a smile.
Information about Mentor was scarce. Painter knew him only because Hermitage had collaborated with the Drifting Mercenaries a few times. Perhaps because of his own reputation, Mentor didn’t intentionally avoid him.
Thus, Painter was well aware. As a warrior, this Player’s combat ability could almost be described as “pitiful”. Mentor had focused all his energy on life professions, transitioning to an “Arcane Alchemist”—a profession focused on research and hardly capable of combat.
Not to mention the fierce beasts of the Black Forest, Mr. Mentor might not even be able to handle a large dog.
“Go east, and you will see a hunter’s cabin.” Painter pointed the way, albeit reluctantly.
At least he had left many expulsion spells near the cabin, making the vicinity very safe.
As a guest, he didn’t want to take the liberty of bringing outsiders into Paradise. Golden Sword and Mentor, a package deal. Since the guy was here for Paradise anyway, he would let the Master of Paradise deal with him personally.
“Thank you.” Mentor nodded nonchalantly and headed east without any doubt.
Painter passed him by and continued towards Paradise.
This time, it took him an hour, and he had another encounter. Painter was a bit unsure whether the God of Fate was particularly favoring him tonight or particularly hating him… Wait, he seemed to have seen the God of Fate before, never mind.
Mr. Pope and the two gods in front of him stared at each other.
“That ‘Dominator’ is not with you anymore,” Teest said. “You got rid of it pretty fast—what, you’re here to stock up in Paradise this time?”
Painter: “You…”
Teest continued leisurely, “Nol and I have been briefed on the situation. Don’t worry. I won’t make things difficult for you.”
Painter’s tone was a bit peculiar. “…You look, um, very fluffy.”
Painter had speculated that these two would adopt new identities to contact Golden Sword Enbillick Alva, to personally investigate. However, he hadn’t expected them to change so thoroughly—
In front of him was a small black dragon, and a similarly sized white long-haired cat.
Both the cat and the black dragon’s ears sported golden Player earrings. The cat also had a collar with a small pouch hanging from it.
The beautiful black dragon flapped its wings, its black scales shimmering with a gem-like luster, and its pair of green eyes burning brightly. It gently grasped the white cat’s neck with its claws, hovering in mid-air.
The cat, on the other hand, held its head high, its golden eyes disdainfully looking down on Painter, with the voice of the Mad Monk emanating from its mouth.
“Indeed fluffy.” Teest said, “But you better not stick your fingers out.”
“I’ve already let Lynn and the others know. Just head directly to the Lost Tower. They’ve left dinner.” Black Dragon Nol blinked. “We’ll handle the rest.”
Painter hummed, unable to hold back. “A curse from a Swamp Witch?”
The curse of a Swamp Witch could turn people into small to medium-sized animals—small as frogs and sparrows, up to the size of pigs and sheep. It was less common to turn into cats or dogs, but not unheard of.
There were only three ways to break the Swamp Witch’s curse.
The witch willingly lifts the curse, kill the witch who cast the spell, or find a powerful and rare black magic item to break the curse. Of course, some witches set conditions like “true love’s kiss” for lifting the curse, but those tend to appear in fairy tales—Swamp Witches prefer to kill the cursed on the spot or simply leave, letting the cursed suffer forever.
As for the stats after turning into an animal, that was controlled by the witch herself. Considering the multi-racial situation in Paradise, Painter strongly suspected the curse was cast by one of their own, with the two’s stats not diminished at all.
It had to be said, a very… peculiar idea.
“Teest took the curse. I transformed myself with the skill of a Dracolich.” Nol nodded.
“From now on, we are two pitiful cursed Players, seeking the Alva Merchant Group to find a way to lift the curse. I think, Mr. Golden Sword won’t refuse the help of Players.”
“Yes.”
The Mad Monk nonchalantly waved his paw, and the Player earrings on his pointed ears jingled.
“I’m actually starting to look forward to it.”
The author has something to say:
Congratulations to the two on their new forms (…
Hilarious, the knight can’t hold his sword now.
Just asking, isn’t this inconspicuous enough, Mr. Golden Sword?
At the same time, He Xiaowei and Qi Liuxing were walking together.
After asking for directions to the quarry, they headed up the mountain path with flashlights in hand.
Qi Liuxing, holding the flashlight in his left hand and gripping the sword hilt tightly with his right, walked ahead of He Xiaowei, ready to face any enemy.
Along the way, He Xiaowei couldn’t help but say, “How can I let a younger brother stand in front of me?”
Qi Liuxing replied seriously, “What matters now is capability, not age. If anything happens, just support me.”
He Xiaowei chuckled. “Indeed, in a team… the support has the highest status!”
Qi Liuxing glanced back at him but said nothing.
He Xiaowei continued, “You are too serious. There’s no need to always appear so deep and solemn. At your age, trying to be serious just seems like a youth unaware of the sorrows of the world.”
Qi Liuxing remained silent.
He Xiaowei then reflected, “On the contrary, Qian’er is like that. He’s always smiling, but he has a lot on his mind. He’s only 22, not yet 23, right? How did he become like this? Who is born loving to scheme? I guess he must have gone through great hardships.”
“No way.” Qi Liuxing frowned. “He went bankrupt, but his family is quite wealthy.”
“Does he seem like the kind of young master who doesn’t know the hardships of life?” He Xiaowei asked.
Qi Liuxing shook his head.
“Of course not.”
“That’s it then,” He Xiaowei said. “Although I can never see through what Qian’er is scheming, I can tell… he has suffered a lot. So, Brother Sword God, when you reach Qian’er’s state, you’ll start remarking, ‘ah, the coolness of autumn*’.”
*This is a line from Ugly Slave – Writing on a Wall of the Way to Boshan by Xin Qiji. The poem is a reflection of the poet’s loneliness and isolation. He wants to express his feelings, but he finds himself saying this line, “Ah, the cool autumn!” instead, unable to communicate his true feelings. || In this context, basically, He Xiaowei is remarking that Zhou Qian has reached a state where he can no longer say what he truly feels and instead, like the poet, would say something entirely different from what he truly wants to express.
“I understand what you mean,” Qi Liuxing said while scanning their surroundings and continuing to walk ahead. “I haven’t experienced much, so I can only pretend.”
He Xiaowei laughed. “Well, that’s not entirely true.”
“Your words are rough, but the logic is sound. I understand. Those with deep experiences naturally show it in their demeanor without having to force it…” Qi Liuxing said with some embarrassment, “I indeed lack such experiences and can’t pretend. Well… I just think it’s okay to be casual with you guys, but facing enemies, being a bit serious can intimidate them.”
“Xiao Qi, you’re actually doing great,” He Xiaowei suddenly said.
Qi Liuxing: “Hm?”
“Young people want to mature and grow up fast, not knowing adults wish to return to their youth. Many people envy you. Youthful innocence is precious. Why must one have experiences or force oneself to become deep and complex?”
He Xiaowei patted his shoulder. “You’ll miss your youth once it’s gone.”
Hearing this, Qi Liuxing looked at He Xiaowei and smiled. “Xiaowei Ge, I suddenly realize you might be what they call… ah, I remember the word—’cleverly disguised as a fool*’.”
*(大智若愚) Idiom referring to someone who is very intelligent but doesn’t show it, which makes them seem foolish at times. However, their true wisdom is revealed through their actions and their ability to achieve great things.
He Xiaowei snickered. “You’re not the first to compliment me like that!”
People like He Xiaowei got along well with everyone.
As they talked and climbed to the quarry halfway up the mountain, the atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant.
Unbeknownst to them, Qi Liuxing’s “youth” was about to come to an abrupt end, not due to time but a sudden change in mindset.
Soon, they arrived at the quarry.
He Xiaowei took out a fire-starting device, eager to try. “Qian’er said the glass would likely have the three primary colors. If we encounter a flame that burns with a purple light… Red and blue make purple, so we can’t use a purple flame for red or blue glass, but it can work on yellow glass. Anyway, let’s look for all colors!”
“I specifically bought a lighter that emits a colorless flame from the trade shop, perfect for burning rocks to test the flames!”
After trying several rocks from different areas, they found rocks that burned with a purple flame, likely containing potassium.
They also found rocks that produced a green flame, indicating the presence of ions like copper, lead, or thallium. During the process, Qi Liuxing used a device to detect harmful substances, which didn’t sound any alarm, suggesting the rocks were likely copper ore.
During the experiments, both wore gas masks to avoid inhaling harmful gasses. Within an hour, they had collected enough ore and packed it up.
As they were about to leave, He Xiaowei shone his flashlight towards the mountain top. “Eh, there’s a path leading to the top. Shall we check it out?”
“We have almost 4 hours until midnight, so I think it’s feasible. Didn’t Qian Ge also say to explore around?” Qi Liuxing said. “But we should report our location first, just in case something happens, and he doesn’t know where we went.”
After messaging Zhou Qian, they followed the mountain path upwards, quickly reaching the peak, and indeed made a discovery.
At the top was a peculiar triangular structure, somewhat like a pyramid but made of much cruder material and smaller, resembling a simple mound of earth.
They exchanged glances and walked to the front of the structure, which had “Temple of the Goddess of Prayer” written on it.
“In this instance, there are humans, ghosts, and now gods have appeared,” He Xiaowei commented.
Qi Liuxing immediately frowned. “After ‘Apple Paradise’, I’ve become wary of any god related to wishes.”
“Shall we go in?” He Xiaowei suggested.
“Wait—” Qi Liuxing raised his left wrist and looked at his wristwatch. “Qian Ge replied. He’s taken our stuff into his pack. He came over and suggested we wait for him.”
“That’s probably better,” He Xiaowei said. “A temple like this could be dangerous. It’s better with him around.”
They didn’t wait long before Zhou Qian, Hidden Blade, and Ke Yuxiao arrived, followed by Yun Xiangrong and Yin Jiujiu.
Qi Liuxing took another look at the ladies, then turned to Zhou Qian and asked, “You said you’d come as soon as I mentioned we found a temple. Do you know something?”
Zhou Qian just smiled and didn’t answer directly, merely stating, “The village chief sent stuff, and I’ve collected it for you. The things you two need tonight are with me, not Hidden Blade or Ke Yuxiao. I think it’s better if I keep them.”
Qi Liuxing and He Xiaowei: “?”
Hidden Blade and Ke Yuxiao: “…”
“Let’s go check out that temple,” Zhou Qian said, walking towards the temple.
The “Temple of the Goddess of Prayer”. At first, one might imagine a scene commonly found at scenic tourist spots—ancient trees covered in red silk ribbons with various wooden plaques hanging, bearing people’s wishes. Whether such rituals fulfill anyone’s wishes is debatable, but they add to the ceremonial feel, and at a small cost, they’re just part of the fun.
Before entering the temple, this was what came to everyone’s mind. But after walking in, everyone’s previous notions were shattered.
The temple was devoid of any festive atmosphere; instead, they felt an intense chill, not of fear but of discomfort and innate repulsion.
The cause of this feeling became clear once they saw what was inscribed along the walls of the corridor—this temple’s chill wasn’t about ghosts and gods but about the evil in human nature.
Walking into the temple entrance, the first thing they encountered was a pitch-dark corridor.
Both sides of the corridor were lined with one stone tablet after another. Engraved on each tablet were symbols written in some kind of unknown script, somewhat resembling magical incantations.
As for the symbols below, the content and handwriting on each stone tablet differ from one another. The commonality among all the tablets, aside from the spell-like runes, was one more thing—all the inscriptions were various kinds of curses.
“I hope my wife dies soon so I can marry Alain next door.”
“Neighbor Ann stole my favorite flower. I hope it consumes her!”
“Jul’s wife is pregnant, but I know she’s unfaithful. I adore Jul, yet he married her… She’s ungrateful and betrayed such a good man. I curse her to give birth to a monster that will devour her!”
It became apparent the “Temple of the Goddess of Prayer” wasn’t for fulfilling benign wishes like “I want to be beautiful” or “I want to leave forever” but was filled with malevolence.
“This isn’t a temple for granting wishes.” He Xiaowei noted. “Maybe curses made here are particularly effective, which is why many come to inscribe their curses.”
“Perhaps we’ll find out more as we go deeper,” Qi Liuxing suggested.
Slowly walking down the corridor, curses of all kinds still filled both sides, while the path became narrower and narrower, until it was only wide enough for one person.
The seven players lined up in a long queue, moving forward one by one, and finally entered a temple through the end of the corridor.
The temple wasn’t large, and its floors and walls were covered entirely with various curses and inscriptions.
The furnishings here were simple, with candles burning around, and in the center, there was a statue of a goddess made of pure gold.
The statue was naked, displaying full breasts and a slender waist, with absolutely captivating curves. Her face was also very beautiful, as beautiful as a night-blooming cereus that appears briefly and then vanishes.
The moment Qi Liuxing saw her, he subconsciously turned his head away.
Next to him, Ke Yuxiao noticed his reaction, patted him on the shoulder, and led him to explore the side of the temple with a smile.
He Xiaowei’s face turned red immediately as well. Glancing at Zhou Qian, who was carefully examining the statue, he quickly whispered, “That’s not appropriate of you.”
“It’s only twisted if you think twisted. Appreciate it with an artistic eye.”
Zhou Qian joked with He Xiaowei and examined the statue several times from top to bottom, his gaze finally landing on her ankles.
The goddess’s smooth ankle had a chain on it.
But now, the lock on the chain was open, as if she had been locked up by someone before, and then someone else came with a key to unlock it for her. The person didn’t take the lock away, but let it fall to the ground.
After examining the goddess statue, the players scattered to study if there were any special inscriptions here.
After a while, Yun Xiangrong’s voice came from somewhere. “There’s a rather special inscription here. It mentions the Kingdom of Words, and also mentions a woman named ‘Amei’.”
Hearing this, the players quickly gathered to check the stone tablet.
Walking up to the stone tablet and reading the text, Zhou Qian also felt it was special.
It was still a curse tablet, but the content written down sparked more imagination—
“The golden feathers must have been stolen by that woman named Amei! She took it back to the Kingdom of Words! I curse the people of her hometown to encounter disasters, and for many people in her hometown to die each year until she returns the golden feathers!”
“My most revered Goddess of Prayer, Difu, I request that you make my curse come true and also ask you to help me find the golden feathers. As a reward, I am willing to offer the ‘Key to Freedom’ to you!”
“I heard that Vels, the God of Imprisonment, admires your beauty and, to keep you here, trapped you with the ‘Shackles of Eternity’. I have the most powerful magician who will use the ‘Key to Freedom’ to liberate you, as long as you help me realize the curse!”
Zhou Qian, Hidden Blade, and the others could understand this text. But Qi Liuxing and He Xiaowei didn’t. The two asked in succession, “The Kingdom of Words? Amei? What are these?”
Facing them, Zhou Qian then shared all the information he had obtained from Innkeeper Tartar.
After listening, He Xiaowei was stunned for a moment, before saying, “Qian’er, didn’t you say there’s a very powerful magician in the Land of Silence? The ban on us was imposed by him. He’s called Flowing Water, right?
“Look, the person who carved this curse stone tablet here also claims they have a magician. So…”
“Hiss… then this curse stone tablet we’re seeing… was written by the king of the Land of Silence! It’s him, no doubt!”
Suddenly, he thought of something, clapped his hands together, and said, “I got it. Everything matches up—”
“The most beautiful girl in the Kingdom of Words, Amei, married the king of the Land of Silence, and then stole his golden feathers. Hence, the king came to the temple of the Goddess of Prayers, asking her to cast a curse, persecuting the people of Amei’s hometown.”
“This strange ‘Drop the Handkerchief’ game in the Land of Silence, is probably related to this curse. The people selected to keep the vigil die in large numbers, fulfilling the curse’s content about many people in Amei’s hometown dying each year!”
“Hmm. Sounds quite reasonable. Xiaowei Ge is getting better at making up stories. But there’s a problem behind this.”
Zhou Qian looked at He Xiaowei. “The person in the curse said, if the golden feathers are found, he will help the Goddess of Prayers unlock the shackles. Look at that statue. The shackles on her ankle have indeed been unlocked. This indicates that the golden feathers must have already been returned.”
“Ah, I see what you mean, Zhou Qian. You have a point,” Ke Yuxiao said. “The curse says that Amei’s hometown will keep suffering deaths until the feathers are returned. So, since the feathers have been returned, the tragedies in Nameless Village should stop. But why… is the ‘Drop the Handkerchief’ still going on?”
This peculiar stone tablet indeed revealed very crucial information. Perhaps by clarifying a few more details, they could further understand the full story of this instance.
Promptly, everyone engaged in an in-depth discussion about it.
Yin Jiujiu didn’t join the discussion. She was just listening while moving to another corner of the temple.
After a moment, she suddenly said, “Come over here and look. This stone tablet is also very interesting. It’s a very new one. Because the letters on it are exceptionally clear, it’s barely weathered.”
Hearing this, Zhou Qian was the first to walk over and look at the stone tablet. The content on this stone tablet was indeed very interesting.
“My stepmother always mocks me for being dumb. I hope she becomes a big idiot,” was the first sentence written on it.
However, what was interesting was the following sentence—”It’s said that you, Goddess Difu, come and go without a trace, possibly disappearing at any moment. It’s such a pity. I hope you’ll come back because I want to bring my friend over. His stepfather is also very annoying, and he wants to curse his stepfather to turn into a big black pig.”
“Hiss… the goddess comes and goes without a trace…” He Xiaowei, after looking at the stone tablet, this time turned back to look at the ankle of the goddess statue in the temple center without blushing or skipping a beat. “Could it be…?”
“This passage, indeed, resolves another doubt in my mind.” Zhou Qian took over the conversation.
“Which doubt?” He Xiaowei asked him.
Zhou Qian said, “The Land of Silence and the Kingdom of Words were on good terms, but after Amei married into the Land of Silence and stole the king’s golden feathers, returning after, the two countries began to harbor ill will towards each other. The curse stone tablet just now, indeed, was written by the king of the Land of Silence. I agree with this conjecture.”
“According to Tartar, both countries regard Amei as a criminal. In Nameless Village, it’s even taboo to mention her name. It seems many people in this village died because Amei stole the golden feathers. This information corroborates each other, and there should be no doubt about it. But—”
Frowning slightly, Zhou Qian continued, “The king of the Land of Silence hates betrayal, letting the magician Flowing Water impose the ban in an attempt to have us deserters die. But he didn’t send any troops after us.”
“This shows that, for some reason, people from the Land of Silence absolutely will not set foot on this land of the Kingdom of Words. So, if that’s the case, how did the king come to this temple to inscribe the curse?”
“Ah! I got it!” He Xiaowei’s eyes brightened. “This, it’s related to this lock, right?”
“Right. I think this temple originally wasn’t in the Kingdom of Words, not on this mountaintop. It must have been in a place where many people could reach.”
Zhou Qian said, “The king of the Land of Silence came to the temple to set a curse. Later the curse might have been fulfilled, or maybe not, but he must have found the golden feathers; hence, he let the magician unlock the goddess’ shackles. Since then—”
“The goddess was freed, no longer needing to stay in one place.”
“The temple thus became a moving temple, appearing sporadically somewhere.”
“This is also why the relatively new stone tablet that Yin Jiujiu found, mentioning the goddess, could disappear. This person entered the temple to write this stone tablet after the golden feathers were returned to the king, and the magician unlocked the goddess’ shackles.”
Just as Zhou Qian’s voice fell, the various inscriptions around them, the pure gold goddess in the center of the temple, the deep corridor, and the dark ceiling and ground—all began to fade, becoming transparent.
—The temple disappeared from their sight.
In its place was a green, grassy slope. The grass, illuminated by the stars and moon in the sky, reflected a silver hue, waving in the wind, creating layers of silver waves that connected with the distant starry sky, forming the Milky Way above.
Looking up at the bright moon and stars, Zhou Qian lowered his head and noticed a straight path in front of him. After pushing aside the grass and walking along the road for ten steps, he found that the road had turned a corner.
Having an idea, Zhou Qian summoned the little dragon, which carried him up into the sky.
Seeing him like this, He Xiaowei couldn’t help but say, “Wow, it reminds me of the dragon I saw in ‘Last Wish’! But yours is much smaller.”
Zhou Qian just curled the corner of his lips, not saying a word, just commanding the little dragon to continue flying upwards. When the dragon reached a sufficient height, Zhou Qian looked down and found that his judgment was correct—the small path he had seen in the grass was actually strokes of characters.
Just like the mysterious crop circles, when you’re in the middle of the field, you can’t see anything, but from an aerial view, you can discover the enormous anomaly. At this moment, with the help of the little dragon, Zhou Qian saw a line of text.
“Never kill birds.”
—This was the fourth prohibition related to deserters.
Before midnight, the atmosphere of the ball reached its climax.
Perhaps because of the loneliness of the winter, everyone was enjoying themselves thoroughly.
The girls danced on tiptoe, light as butterflies on grass leaves, and the moonlight streaming down from the greenhouse ceiling made the tiny beads of sweat on their noses glisten.
No one could resist being enchanted by such a beautiful sight, and the cheerful organ music seemed never to stop. The swirling skirts and lights dazzled the eyes. Even the Baron would have been absorbed in the revelry if it weren’t for the thug who followed him closely at all times.
He didn’t know what exactly the bold men who had intercepted him were after, but the young man who stuck to him like a shadow wielded a very sharp dagger. Unless a strong bodyguard could rescue him, the Baron, who was never skilled in combat even in his twenties, would never risk his life.
He feigned compliance with them, falsely claiming to the castle that he had brought a cousin with him, all the while looking for an opportunity to signal Mistress Daisy or any girl to hopefully understand his gestures and subdue the ill-intentioned man beside him.
Unfortunately, the plan wasn’t going smoothly, as Mistress Daisy, as always, was only concerned with how much money he would “donate”.
As for the naive girls, they knew only to dance and drink, and although they were inwardly anxious about their lives, the distracted Baron was still persuaded to drink several glasses of tart apple cider.
Alice breathed lightly as she stealthily glanced at Mistress Daisy, who was leaning on the long sofa, her heart pounding.
She knew Mistress Daisy was here not only as a host to accompany her so-called “noble guests” but also to monitor them. She had set very strict rules. The girls weren’t allowed to communicate alone at the ball, nor were they allowed to offer unnecessary information to the guests—which really meant any information.
There was once a guest who had become infatuated with a girl in the castle and swore during a private moment to fulfill all her wishes. The girl asked him to take her away, even if she were only to live as a humble mistress in the countryside forever.
The guest did indeed negotiate with Mistress Daisy about this in the study on the third floor of the castle, but no one knew what they discussed, and from that point on, the guest was never seen again.
As a “disobedient” example, the girl was thrown out of her room to work as a laundry maid, and in the winter, she slept in an attic without a door, where she died of illness within two months.
Even so, Mistress Daisy investigated the incident extremely severely and concluded that it was caused by a few dishonest girls whispering together, and from then on, the girls weren’t allowed to speak quietly anywhere within her and several supervising ladies’ lines of sight.
But they didn’t need to talk.
Alice, arm-in-arm with her dance partner, brushed past a girl in a pink dress, who winked at Alice and gracefully lifted her skirt and walked away. Alice saw the middle-aged man she usually danced with holding a glass of wine, tilting his head, and speaking to Mistress Daisy.
The girl trembled slightly all over, not from fear but from excitement.
Her dance partner had also drunk the cinnamon tea she had handed him fifteen minutes earlier.
Charlie had told her the doctor providing the sleeping drug was excellent, predicting the timing very accurately, so she had to complete all her plans within half an hour. During this time, he and his companion would lock the servants replenishing food in the kitchen to prevent outsiders from interfering.
Although Daphne helped her distribute the medicine, she didn’t know if everyone could understand the plan without talking: each guest would have at least one girl who was—in their words—”sympathetic” to them. Alice and Daphne, using their wide skirts and handkerchiefs, distributed all the medicine to the girls, who then relaxed the guests’ vigilance, urging them to drink a few more glasses.
When the first guest started snoring at a small round table, she knew the plan had succeeded.
Mistress Daisy initially thought Mr. Solo had drunk too much wine and was looking for a strong gardener to carry him to a room in the castle when she found that the previously lively guests began falling like dominoes, one after another, unresponsive to any shaking—even the Baron slumped over on a velvet sofa.
Miss Callia, responsible for maintaining order at the ball, gathered around a bald, wealthy banker, unable to wake him no matter how hard she tried, wringing her hands in distress.
They were good at loudly scolding and whipping disobedient people, but they weren’t skilled in first aid.
“Go! Call the coachmen, the gardeners!” Mistress Daisy commanded Miss Callia, who scurried out of the greenhouse with her skirt in hand. Only then did Mistress Daisy start to feel that something was seriously wrong.
This looked a lot like food poisoning, but even if the castle’s kitchen wasn’t serving the King, it was still more meticulous than an ordinary farm, especially when there were nobles among the guests.
The ingredients and drinks used for cooking were all inspected. Otherwise, they couldn’t appease the picky tastes of the wealthy, and nothing like this had ever happened before.
And yet… it was only the guests who had collapsed.
The girls who were their dance partners had eaten the same biscuits, drunk the same wine and tea, so why were all the girls still standing?
Mistress Daisy slowly straightened up, staring at the group of girls dressed in elegant clothes, whose cheeks were still flushed from dancing as they coldly watched her.
“Ladies,” she asked softly, congenially, “has someone done something naughty?”
If it weren’t for the malevolent light in her eyes, she might have appeared like a kind woman who always helped distribute communion at church and wept with compassion at the sight of lambs.
Unfortunately, all the girls had secretly disposed of their soup, free from the influence of any potion.
Looking at Mistress Daisy, they only remembered how she lectured them with a kind smile, flanked by two women wielding whips. Even the usually brave Daphne shivered at this moment, and several girls couldn’t help showing fearful expressions.
She smiled triumphantly and coaxed, “I understand. Someone must be up to no good… Tell me who led you to do this, and I won’t punish those who were deceived.”
She stepped closer to the silently huddled group of girls, like a serpent hissing as it approached its prey.
“It was me,” a voice sounded, its tone slightly trembling.
Alice was cold to the touch, but her cheeks were flushed. Her voice was soft, but she repeated, “It was me.”
Mistress Daisy’s smile vanished. Her eyes gleamed with malice. “It’s you, eh? What are you trying to do? Hm? You think you’re clever, trying to defy me with these low tactics? You despicable, vile…”
“It’s you who are vile!” A sharp voice interrupted as Daphne pushed Alice aside and furiously glared at her. “You’re the vile one, locking us up here and exploiting us for wealth. If God’s gaze were to fall here, you would surely be struck by lightning!”
“How dare you curse me!” Mistress Daisy screamed. “Ungrateful! I took you in, gave you food and clothes, and this is how you repay me, by sabotaging my guests and cursing me!”
Alice’s voice grew louder involuntarily. “You’re lying! You’ve locked us in here! I want to take Lily home!”
The word “home” dropped like a cold splash of water into a boiling pot, sparking an explosive reaction from all the girls, who clenched their fists and glared at her hatefully.
“I want to go home!”
“We want freedom! To go home!”
Another girl couldn’t hold back her tears. “I want to go back. My mother must miss me, crying day and night.”
“You deprive us of our freedom and our dignity, yet you expect gratitude?” Alice’s eyes shone strangely bright. “Surrender now. No one will come to help you. You must open the castle doors immediately and let us go!”
Alice knew that for utmost secrecy, Mistress Daisy would have all the castle exits securely locked after the guests arrived, only reopening them when it was time for them to leave, as most guests didn’t want any intruders during their stay, which could harm their reputations.
Although the girls were all very frail, the long-suppressed grievances and suffering seemed to endow them with boundless strength. Clutching forks and small knives, they formed a semicircle and advanced towards Mistress Daisy.
Mistress Daisy was shocked by their assertiveness and involuntarily stepped back, her eyes darting around, wondering where the coachman and gardener, who should have been there by now, had gone. In her distraction, she stepped on a tablecloth that trailed on the floor. Before she realized something was wrong, someone yanked the tablecloth from under her feet, causing her to slip and fall hard onto the ground. Wine glasses and plates from the table tumbled into her lap, leaving her in a disheveled mess.
“Oh dear, my apologies,” a voice lacking sincerity came from behind her.
Erica was holding the tablecloth in one hand and juggling a green apple in the other. “Madam, are you alright?”
“You’re the baron’s cousin!” Mrs. Daisy exclaimed in horror. “You’re still awake?”
Erica flashed a bright smile. “I’m not his cousin. We’re here to rescue these brave young ladies—and just to note, if you’re hoping for the gardeners and dishwashers to come rushing in with brooms, you’ll be disappointed. My friends have probably taken care of them.”
Despite the chaos, Erica’s smile caused several girls to exchange looks, causing a hint of excitement and a desire to whisper among themselves.
Mistress Daisy’s face turned pale and then flushed as she could no longer maintain her façade. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“They are the help I hired.” Alice stepped forward, her voice louder. “You’d better hand over the keys to the castle’s main door and let us leave, or else—”
Daphne added menacingly, “Or else we’ll hang you from the tower and let you freeze to death.”
Alice and the other girls quickly nodded in agreement.
Mistress Daisy’s face turned ashen. By now, she realized she had fallen into a well-designed trap. These girls had somehow made contact with people outside the castle, not only reaching an agreement to rescue them but also planning to catch all the guests who came to the castle for entertainment.
Those asleep here were prominent figures from Ropappas and nearby cities. Over the years, she had worked hard to maintain friendly relations with them, which had brought her many benefits. However, the consequences would also be severe if something happened to these people in her castle…
Wait. This is her castle.
“Alright.” She calmed down, flicking a long-stemmed cherry from her lap and awkwardly using the table to help herself up. Her eyes gleamed strangely.
“Alright,” she repeated.
“You win,” Mistress Daisy said slowly. “If that’s the case, as you wish… but I don’t have the keys on me.”
“Where are the keys?” Erica asked.
“In the study on the third floor, on top of the bookshelf, but I must fetch them myself,” she said. “There’s a hound there, fiercely loyal to me. It won’t move unless it sees me.”
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper had made a promise with Alice.
Before leaving the castle last time, they had agreed on a reliable meeting spot near the kitchen garden. It was the vegetable garden near the kitchen. When Alice arrived, she saw half a Lloyd Rabbit head peeking out from the edge of a haystack, looking almost like a real rabbit under the dim moonlight.
Alice, undeterred by the bushes that might scratch her clothes or the grass stains that could dirty her hem, squeezed behind the haystack without hesitation.
“Listen.” Alice gasped for air. “Mother has gone to the front hall—to speak with the Baron. She knows every girl. I can’t disappear for too long.”
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper said in his reassuring tone, “I’ve found help—a very good doctor. He’s procured a powerful drug for us. Just a little bit dissolved in liquid can put a wild ox to sleep for three hours.”
They planned to give Mistress Daisy, the castle’s watch dogs, and the guests a taste of their own medicine—being controlled by drugs. But when Charlie returned to the castle, he found the plan difficult to execute.
“The kitchen is too crowded,” he whispered. “It’s meal prep time now, so people are constantly coming and going—it’s hard to slip in. I could wait for a lull, but I’m afraid by the time it quiets down, the ball might no longer need food.”
Alice wrung her fingers anxiously.
She had hoped Charlie would find a secret passage or something that would allow them to intoxicate the guests and then sneak away, because Charlie always seemed so capable and sure, and his knowledge of magic had convinced Alice he was an experienced and resourceful man.
“There’s something else I don’t understand,” Charlie said, as if something just occurred to him. “You said the ball is held in the central greenhouse of the castle, right?”
Alice nodded.
Charlie studied her expression, his tone becoming more serious. “What’s interesting is, when we sneaked in earlier and looked at that greenhouse from a distance, guess what? It was just a semicircular glass house surrounded by thick curtains. There are no lights, no music, and no people, just like the flower beds and lawns outside.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible—we were all there. The girls, Mistress Daisy, all the guests, long tables covered in white cloths, roast lamb and apple pies on them, a piano and flute playing, and a huge chandelier hanging overhead. I’m telling you. I just ran out of there!”
“I absolutely believe you,” Charlie said without hesitation. “So I think the problem with this castle is a bit bigger than I thought, but not insurmountably so,” he quickly added, seeing Alice’s expression.
“Just like you said, ‘Only guests with an invitation can attend the ball.’ That might not just be literal. It means that, apart from those already in the castle, anyone outside without an invitation is excluded from that mysterious ball. Even if you put the ball’s champagne under the ‘outsider’s’ nose, they can’t see it.”
This was something Charlie and Erica hadn’t anticipated.
To be safe, they had intercepted the Baron’s carriage. Without anyone using magic disguises, Erica took the Baron hostage to try to get into the ball as accompanying personnel, Dr. Salman could only enter the servants’ area posing as a coachman, and Shopkeeper Charlie was hiding under the carriage, a complete stowaway.
If the plan went smoothly, they would be able to sneak into the kitchen to drug the banquet food or infiltrate the ball to strike at the highest administrator, Mistress Daisy. But after discovering the restriction of the invitation card, their available manpower and opportunities were severely limited.
Alice was almost in tears. “What do we do now? I must, must take Lily and leave. All the girls want to leave. We all secretly agreed…”
Charlie cut her off. “What do you mean agreed? Do the other girls know about the plan?”
Alice looked slightly confused. “Initially, it was just Daphne… She’s really brave. I thought she would agree to the plan, and she did. Then she told a few trustworthy girls because she thought you’d need enough inside help when you act, but then we found out that after we stopped eating the soup, all the girls wanted to leave the castle immediately.”
She looked at the rabbit-headed shopkeeper uncertainly, wondering if she had messed up and upset him by leaking the plan, as he had previously made it clear that for safety’s sake, it was best to keep this matter secret.
“We didn’t discuss this widely,” Alice added nervously. “We’re not allowed to whisper. Most communication was through coded language and gestures. ‘They’ definitely didn’t catch any proof.”
Charlie looked at her and laughed.
“You think I’m upset? No, no, no, how could I blame you for your courage? In fact, I’ve thought of a better way.”
Alice looked at him.
“We don’t have invitations. There’s only one companion who might have entered the ball with the Baron. She’ll help as much as she can, but it might be limited.” Charlie reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crystal vial. The pea-sized pills inside glistened in the moonlight.
“But you don’t need invitations. You said all the girls agree with the plan, right?”
Alice seemed to understand and nodded.
“No scent. It dissolves in two seconds and takes effect in half an hour. A tiny pill can put a wild ox to sleep for three hours,” Charlie whispered, cradling the vial in his palm. “You know the rules of the ball, you know the guests, you know how to succeed.”
Alice hesitated, her eyes falling on the vial and then looking up at Charlie.
Those round rabbit eyes were looking at her gently.
“Don’t mind how they see you, Alice,” Charlie said. “You’re not flowers in a greenhouse, but warriors fighting for freedom, and I am quite sure of that.”
The girl with the lace headband looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes.
She suddenly reached out and grabbed the vial.
Mistress Daisy was furious.
She had high expectations for this early spring ball.
After a long winter with no income, she urgently needed those arrogant and wealthy guests to pay her bills—contrary to what the foolish “Triton River Daily” wrote, she wasn’t a “kind-hearted woman, that’s calm inside from years of selfless and generous contributions.”
Just maintaining the operation of the castle was a major expense: daily cleaning, garden maintenance, kitchen management, and laundry all required manpower, not to mention the extra people needed to guard those ungrateful girls.
Besides, she had bought a garden villa in a small city south of Ropappas, not too far nor too close from here, where she could live in the villa when there were no balls, drink tea in the sun, and attend the gatherings of the town’s noblewomen—those truly elegant gatherings where they wore gloves to drink tea and discussed poetry while wearing the latest fashionable hats.
She had no husband, children, relatives, or friends, and was the sole highest authority in the castle.
Those smelly gardeners and laundry maids thought her third-floor room was the most luxurious and comfortable place in the world, but Mistress Daisy actually disliked it here, which was why she spent a substantial amount of money to acquire another property.
She had been planning this for a long time, drastically cutting the castle’s expenses in order to afford a villa that was previously owned by a Viscountess.
Mistress Daisy had spent her whole life pursuing social mobility. In that city, where no one knew her, she was a wealthy, elegantly-behaved widow, and nobody knew where her wealth came from.
If given the opportunity to connect with the local nobility, perhaps she could donate some money for a title or even marry an elderly nobleman.
The more satisfied she was with the life she planned, the more impatient she grew with the castle, but the castle was her golden goose, and there was no one else to keep it warm for her—Mistress Daisy had no one she trusted; not even the hallway hound was allowed into any of her rooms.
For now, she still had to focus mainly on the castle. At least she couldn’t leave it for too long now because her subordinates were too foolish. Without her oversight, they would incessantly create chaos: some parts of the road had become potholed due to melting snow, delaying the water cart for over an hour, which caused chaos in the kitchen and nearly resulted in the banquet table going without dishes. Then there were passersby who came near the castle asking for water, and a meddlesome servant actually let them into the kitchen, where the curious outsiders kept looking around too much… Although outsiders without invitations couldn’t access the ball, it was still hard to explain why a quiet, desolate castle’s kitchen was busily preparing massive amounts of roast lamb, fruit pies, and sausages, prompting Mistress Daisy to order her sternest overseer, Miss Mince, to handle the matter.
Not just the passersby annoyed her, but also her most prominent guest, the Baron.
He hadn’t gone south for the winter, which made his health weaker than the previous year. This changed his usual habit of attending banquets alone. This time he insisted on having his cousin accompany him: the young man, reportedly studying at a medical school, could attend to him at any moment.
Mistress Daisy was firm on the one invitation, one guest policy, but given that the Baron was the highest status guest that evening and usually very generous, she reluctantly made an exception (only because the Baron hinted that his cousin was also interested in the ball and might soon become an independent guest).
Mistress Daisy put down her pen, looking at the name of the Baron’s cousin, Erica, which she had just written on the list.
This was one of the core secrets of the castle—the key to attending the ball wasn’t actually the invitation, but the names she wrote in this black hardcover book.
Nobody would know that this book, which didn’t need magic to manipulate and turned the whole castle into an enchanted realm, was the “real” key to entering the castle.
It was a peculiar contractual ritual. During the ball, as long as a name was written down, it would be accepted by the rules of the book, entering the realm affected by this book.
As the host, she shouldn’t leave the ball for too long.
She stood up, adjusting her skirt, ready to leave the room, when she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye of a curtain not properly drawn across a door that faced the study—but if someone observed from outside the castle, they would notice that there was no window there.
She walked over, reaching out to grab the corner of the curtain.
A long, resentful sigh came from behind the curtain.
“Shut up, you wretched woman,” Mistress Daisy said coldly.
The sigh stopped.
The study was quiet for a moment, then a giggle came from behind the curtain, as if a mischievous young girl was hiding there, joking with her.
Mistress Daisy’s expression shifted several times before she disgustedly pulled the curtain tightly shut, sealing the sound behind it.
She closed the door of the study, and the hound she had raised herself sprang to its feet.
“Guard this door for me, sweetie,” she whispered. “Don’t let anyone in.”
The hound seemed to understand her words, lying back down on the mat by the door.
Mistress Daisy picked up her skirt and descended the stairs. Miss Mince was holding a candelabra, waiting for her.
“No suspicious people,” Miss Mince reported quietly from behind her. “This afternoon, a dirty young man with a strange toy didn’t use the main entrance… They didn’t even know this place was part of the city and wanted to find out how to get into the city. Peter let them drink water in the vegetable garden. Coincidentally, the bread had just come out of the oven, and they begged to have some after smelling it, which caused a delay for a while, and they missed the time to close the door.”
Mistress Daisy turned her face slightly. “You didn’t feed them, did you?”
“Not a crumb of bread,” Mrs. Mince asserted firmly. “I scolded them loudly and had Peter lock them in the cellar before the ball.”
Long Xingyu would be attending a commercial event. His group somehow got lucky and received a snack brand’s promotion contract. The brand was somewhat well-known, but in today’s world, brand owners wanted to exploit and yet were unwilling to give spokesperson titles, inventing various other titles instead. For example, each member of their group was made a “delicious ambassador” for a specific snack. Still, they had to pretend to be satisfied, and it was mentioned several times that if the promotion went well, there could be “further cooperation”.
During this period, Long Xingyu had been filming. The person with the new core habits didn’t even bother to post on Weibo for publicity anymore. The once rock-solid popularity he enjoyed was showing a downward trend. This wasn’t something he noticed himself but was reminded by others. The brand created a real-time sales ranking, and that teammate, who always felt somewhat competitive with him, immediately posted a screenshot on Weibo to express gratitude to his fans when his sales surpassed Long Xingyu’s. However, Long Xingyu’s sales surpassed his again the very next minute.
Long Xingyu almost fainted. He realized that he no longer had the mood for comparisons. He just found everything incredibly banal; why was he forced into this kind of competition? What’s the point? To get elementary school students to eat a few more boxes of spicy sticks?
People also asked about the recent rumors about Long Xingyu. A teammate replied with, “Don’t say that. He’s not that kind of person. I believe in him.” Because the celebrity himself replied, this comment immediately became the top comment, and everyone who clicked in could see it.
“I heard Long Xingyu hooked up with the Film Emperor as soon as he joined the crew and is now about to leave the group.”
If it was just Long Xingyu’s name, it wouldn’t have much buzz. But it was different now that Yu Ruoyun was involved. Yu Ruoyun had fans, but not many would patrol the search entries and control the comments for him. One could find all sorts of things if one searched.
A teammate was still listening to music when Long Xingyu walked over and yanked his earphones out.
“What are you doing!” the teammate shouted, but he seemed somewhat guilty and didn’t dare to look Long Xingyu in the eye.
“Nothing,” Long Xingyu said. “Just asking you. You play word games, and I can’t understand them because I’m not cultured. You believe I’m not that kind of person. What kind of person? Someone who wouldn’t get into a Film Emperor’s bed or someone who wouldn’t leave the group?”
The teammate, just over twenty and not yet skilled in scheming, was left speechless by Long Xingyu’s imposing manner.
“First of all, I haven’t gotten into Yu Ruoyun’s bed, yet. Second…” Long Xingyu laughed sarcastically. “Give up. Even if you leave, I won’t.”
These words weren’t spoken on impulse. Before coming to the practice room, he had discussed with the higher-ups about his contract and said the same thing. The contracts for promoting film and TV were given to a company run by Yu Ruoyun’s friend, but the group contract remained unchanged. He still fulfilled his contract and didn’t leave the group.
It wasn’t necessary—even the agent was surprised. After all, this kind of behavior—running away halfway and lingering at the door—was quite baffling.
“I remember last time I told you I didn’t want to take that micro-business endorsement, and you told me it wasn’t up to me.” Long Xingyu suddenly brought it up, making the agent somewhat embarrassed.
Long Xingyu said, “There’s no other meaning. You were right. Without Yu Ruoyun, who knows where I’d be cooling my heels, let alone having the chance to change the contract so quickly. Damn, why is living off someone so enjoyable? I should’ve figured it out sooner.”
Actually, it wasn’t true. Long Xingyu understood in his heart that people get jealous when the neighbor buys a new car, but they don’t hate themselves for not being as rich as Bill Gates. Now that the gap was too big, he felt at ease, treating it as if Yu Ruoyun was donating to the poor, and he would send a banner to Yu Ruoyun after poverty alleviation.
“But don’t take on those sponsorships for them,” Long Xingyu finally said. “Starting too low makes others look down on you and think there’s no future for this group. Even though I also think there’s no future, a dead fish has to struggle a bit, right?”
He never understood what being an idol was, and after knowing it, he still didn’t get its meaning. The recent proliferation of domestic idols, with their uniquely-Chinese style, made the concept seem even more absurd to him. The once noble print media had gradually declined over the years. The high threshold was no longer unreachable. If you had sales, you had hope of getting on. It wasn’t those young people’s fault. Times were rapidly changing, and everything was no longer necessary.
During this time, he had to practice dancing. The best way was to find Long Xingyu’s previous dance practice videos and practice accordingly. Long Xingyu would record his practice videos with his phone every now and then, storing them on a hard drive. He found one to watch, and at the end of the video, Long Xingyu hadn’t stopped the recording, leaning against the wall with his clothes soaked in sweat, not getting up to turn it off. He was about to close it when he heard the video’s Long Xingyu asking, “When can I perform on stage?”
No matter how times changed, some things remained the same. The desire to be noticed, to hear cheers and applause, practicing day after day, waiting for that damn luck to come. Because of this, he couldn’t bear to take away the last bit of what Long Xingyu had. So he decided to stay a bit longer, holding on a bit more. Who knows, maybe this lousy company will go bankrupt tomorrow.
“Zhong Mo, right?” Long Xingyu finally remembered the teammate’s name. “I don’t mind you stabbing me. I’m just reminding you not to stab yourself to death.”
He thought he was very kind, but it was a pity. Zhong Mo seemed just scared, not even saying thank you, and awkwardly went back to playing on his phone.
Someone walked over, and Long Xingyu glanced out of the corner of his eye. Here came Lu Zheming, the team captain, to smooth things over again.
“Why the temper?” Lu Zheming said. “Just have him delete it.”
“Meaningless.” Long Xingyu sighed. “I just feel all this is meaningless.”
Competing in snack sales was meaningless, and so was winning trophies.
“What do you want to achieve?” Long Xingyu asked Lu Zheming. “Chasing dreams should bring something in return, right? Otherwise, it’s just wasting time.”
Lu Zheming replied, “Not necessarily. Isn’t pursuing the dream itself enough? I’ve long realized not everyone can succeed, but many people never even had dreams.”
“I don’t think I can,” Long Xingyu said. “I used to think fame, money, and status were very important. Now… they’re still very important. I can’t get rid of my vanity.”
But Yu Ruoyun seemed to be part of his vanity too.
Loving someone, like a dream, was a lottery win. People’s pure imagination of love was often supplemented by entertainment and works related to love; rarely could they make it come true in reality. Career and wealth, he once wanted to have again, but now he felt it was meaningless. Even if he achieved something again, wouldn’t he eventually be forgotten?
But some people wouldn’t—Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t forget him. Despite damaging his brain, he still wanted to recover memories about Jiang Yu.
In the Bible, Jesus was crucified and resurrected because he was the Son of God, destined to save humanity.
What important thing did he have to do? This world seemed not to need his salvation.
“I’m leaving,” Long Xingyu suddenly said. “Tell the teacher I had something urgent.”
He carelessly pushed the door open and left, abandoning his teammates without a shred of responsibility.
In fact, Yu Ruoyun hadn’t even returned. He took that key, just wanting to confirm some things.
Maybe this time, only Yu Ruoyun needed his salvation.
Xu Ye voiced her suspicion. “When I went to your place before, I noticed cigarette butts several times. You don’t smoke, and you’re an anti-smoking ambassador. It’s unlikely that just a regular friend would smoke in front of you. Also… you’ve nearly replaced everyone on your team except for me.”
At first, she thought Yu Ruoyun had some dissatisfaction with her, but he never acted further on it. Once she realized almost all of them used to work in Jiang Yu’s studio, Xu Ye became even more puzzled.
“They’re quite capable, aren’t they?” Yu Ruoyun chuckled at the memory. “They have lots of marketing connections, for instance.”
Jiang Yu’s rise to fame was far more arduous than Yu Ruoyun’s. Few could debut as the male lead in their first film like Yu Ruoyun. Jiang Yu started as a minor character in TV dramas and achieved fame almost on par with Yu Ruoyun. Part of this was due to Jiang Yu’s relentless effort, working nearly every day of the year, seamlessly moving from one project to the next, even appearing on New Year’s TV shows. Part of it was also due to his team’s effective publicity, turning an eight into a ten and consistently keeping his name in the public eye, often alongside Yu Ruoyun’s. Jiang Yu never committed any serious mistakes. Even his temper could be marketed as genuine, a mix of praise and criticism that kept him relevant.
“So it really was him?” Xu Ye confirmed once more.
“Yes,” Yu Ruoyun replied.
Xu Ye sighed. “If this were before, I might have had something to say to you. But now, I don’t even know how to start. Ruoyun, I understand how you feel, but Jiang Yu is dead. You don’t need to…”
“Maybe he’s not,” Yu Ruoyun said softly. “Seeing is believing. I never saw it, so it might not be true.”
Xu Ye initially wanted to tell Yu Ruoyun he didn’t need a low-grade stand-in for Jiang Yu, just for a slight resemblance. But after Yu Ruoyun said that, she didn’t continue.
She remembered when Jiang Yu died, Yu Ruoyun was abroad. She didn’t think much of it at the time, feeling some regret but seeing no connection to Yu Ruoyun. She just mentioned to Yu Ruoyun that they should send a condolence wreath. Yu Ruoyun replied quickly, “No need.”
She explained it wasn’t about personally going, just leaving his name, but Yu Ruoyun reiterated, “No need.”
Fine, no need then. Xu Ye gave up. After all, there were plenty of elegiac couplets wishing Jiang Yu a smooth journey to the afterlife; it wouldn’t miss Yu Ruoyun’s contribution. Jiang Yu’s death was a hot topic for several days, with the media digging into his past, but it soon blew over. Some people trended on social media, some fell in love, some played Honor of Kings and chewed gum on set. The entertainment industry and the world kept spinning, unchanged.
But for Yu Ruoyun, it wasn’t the same. If Jiang Yu had truly been with Yu Ruoyun, then Yu Ruoyun’s outward normalcy was the most abnormal thing. Returning as scheduled, completing pre-arranged work, hanging out with friends during breaks, discussing investment projects, and taking his dog to the vet.
Xu Ye had managed Yu Ruoyun for almost twenty years. He had reshaped her entire life. Back when the mainland entertainment industry was still immature, everything was in a state of exploration. Yu Ruoyun’s family feared he’d suffer as a minor, so they sought someone to look after him. Eventually, Xu Ye, a distant cousin who didn’t excel academically but had gone to art school and entered the workforce early, was chosen. With a bit more experience than others, she transitioned to being Yu Ruoyun’s agent. She endured many hardships but never suffered any grievance from Yu Ruoyun, who never made unreasonable demands and was always strategic about his career. Xu Ye later started her own company, branching into other industries, and Yu Ruoyun had helped her considerably.
“Ruoyun,” Xu Ye said, “Maybe I’m getting old and nostalgic. Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about the past. Do you remember when you went to Hong Kong to shoot a movie?”
That was quite a while ago, when Hong Kong cinema was declining but still far more developed than the mainland market, boasting a more professional film industry. Co-productions were mostly Hong Kong crews with mainland actors, but the city wasn’t one they were familiar with after all, which led to occasional unpleasant experiences with unpleasant people.
“That seems to be the first time I saw you get angry. In the crew, there was a supporting actress with a significant role who was also from the mainland. There was a guy in the camera crew, just a track pusher, who always made fun of her, calling her ‘Beigu*’. She didn’t understand and asked what ‘Beigu’ meant. He laughed, and the other men laughed too, saying, ‘You’re from the north, a northern girl, right? Beigu.’ She was so naive that she believed it. When they were eating, the guy called her that again, and she responded. You were sitting next to her, stood up, took a bottle of wine, and walked over. People thought you were going to toast him. As soon as he raised his glass, you poured the entire bottle over his head.”
*Northern Girl. It’s a derogatory term that was historically used to refer to women from Northern China who came to Hong Kong or Macau to work as prostitutes. It’s considered outdated and not commonly used, which is probably why the actress didn’t know the negative connotation behind it.
“That was a long time ago,” Yu Ruoyun said.
“I never knew what you said to him, but he came out and apologized to the girl. When I asked you what happened, you said, ‘I used to wonder why anyone would care about others’ opinions. Now I know no one can truly ignore them.’”
That was when Xu Ye realized Yu Ruoyun was human, capable of empathy and impulsive actions, because he too had been looked down upon despite doing nothing wrong. Early fame brought harsher criticism from the public, who enjoyed watching a prodigy’s potential downfall. No matter how diligently Yu Ruoyun worked on his films, there were always detractors until he won a second Best Actor award, which gradually silenced them. So much pressure, yet Yu Ruoyun rarely showed it unless it became a burden to progress, allowing Xu Ye to see that even a perfect statue could have cracks.
“Ruoyun,” Xu Ye asked softly, “Are you very sad?”
Have you still not accepted Jiang Yu’s death?
But Yu Ruoyun seemed to read her mind. “I don’t need a psychologist.”
He said, “Maybe I needed one before, but not now. I’ll be fine.”
He thought about how Long Xingyu had accepted his key. He never gave Jiang Yu a key, believing he’d always be there to open the door for him.
Now, as long as Jiang Yu wanted to come, he could freely enter Yu Ruoyun’s world, regardless if he was present.
The author has something to say:
“Beigu” refers to mainland Chinese women working as sex workers in Hong Kong, as seen in the movie “Golden Chicken”. According to CEPA regulations, the proportion of main creators from Hong Kong in co-productions is not limited, but mainland actors must account for no less than one-third of the main cast.
Long Xingyu’s last scene had him collapsing with injuries among the bushes, his fate uncertain.
The storyline for this minor boss was temporarily concluded.
Before the blood on him was even wiped clean, Yu Ruoyun called him over.
“What is it?” Long Xingyu asked.
Yu Ruoyun grabbed his wrist, turned it palm-up, and placed a key in his hand. “You’re still living in the company’s dormitory, right? If you’re not used to it, you can stay here. I don’t come back often. I’ll send you the address on WeChat.”
Long Xingyu tried to pull away, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t let go. The grip wasn’t strong, but he couldn’t break free.
“What does this mean?” Long Xingyu asked.
“A new life, isn’t it?” Yu Ruoyun said. “Just like you said.”
He had said that, yeah, but why did this feel so weird?. He hadn’t told Yu Ruoyun to hand someone else a key for a hookup and even send the address, had he? He knew the place well enough to know how many steps were on each floor. He didn’t need the address.
Yu Ruoyun added, “The property management replaced the elevator.”
When Yu Ruoyun first became famous, Beijing’s real estate market wasn’t restricted. Though he didn’t earn much at the time, he could still buy a nice house in a good location with good security. Over the years, the place became a bit outdated, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t move, saying he was used to it. Jiang Yu always felt nervous going there, worried about paparazzi, covering himself tightly even at night. Paparazzi would capture Yu Ruoyun walking his dog or dining with friends, but never suspected Jiang Yu, who was just rising in fame, had any connection with Yu Ruoyun. Surprisingly, there were never any rumors. Sometimes the elevator broke, and he’d have to take the stairs. Halfway up, he’d hear footsteps and run into Yu Ruoyun, who once caught him mid-fall, preventing a tumble down the stairs. Jiang Yu complained, “What a lousy place. Are you planning to die poor? If you can’t afford a house, I can lend you money.”
He remembered it was no longer possible for him to buy property, no matter how much money he had.
Yu Ruoyun said, “I was making coffee and suddenly thought you might be arriving soon, so I came down to check.”
They walked up together, one floor at a time. Halfway through making the coffee, Jiang Yu took a sip and said Yu Ruoyun’s coffee-making skills were poor—too sour and bitter.
Long Xingyu asked, “So what do I do? Clean the place as rent? Or sleep with you?”
Sleeping with him seemed easier.
But Yu Ruoyun’s fingers brushed over the scars on Long Xingyu’s wrist, scars from a suicide attempt later covered by a tattoo. Feeling the scars, Yu Ruoyun said, “You tried to kill yourself, and the cuts were deep.”
Having deduced this, he answered Long Xingyu’s question. “You don’t need to do anything. There’ll be a housekeeper.”
Long Xingyu finally pulled his hand back, feeling goosebumps rising.
It had always been like this. Yu Ruoyun returned to the way he usually saw him—emotionless even while speaking, always leaving Long Xingyu guessing.
The Yu Ruoyun from moments ago, with his emotions spilling over like a flood, was rare. It overwhelmed Long Xingyu, forcing him to turn away, making excuses about starting filming, and fleeing faster than a rabbit.
“I think you’re becoming weirder by the day,” Long Xingyu said, but he still pocketed the key.
Yu Ruoyun really sent him the address. In the car to the airport, Long Xingyu looked at his phone, trying to distract himself, but ended up on Yu Ruoyun’s Weibo page again. The posts were as dull as ever, mostly promotional—something he had scrolled through when he first woke up.
In the year since Jiang Yu’s death, Yu Ruoyun had posted dozens of times, with only one personal post. “Today, Tiger passed away. He was with me for many years.”
The photo showed Yu Ruoyun’s long-time golden retriever, who always needed to run outside, often barging into rooms at the wrong times, begging Jiang Yu for treats. Even it had died.
The comments on this post were filled with condolences, some suggesting getting another pet, countered by those saying feelings can’t be easily transferred.
Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t get another pet, but today he told Long Xingyu it was time to start a new life, to find someone else worth loving.
This was the route Long Xingyu initially envisioned, but reaching this point felt out of his control. This wasn’t some love strategy game that quickly led to a happy ending.
Unless…
Yu Ruoyun was also looking at his phone screen. Long Xingyu hadn’t replied, but Yu Ruoyun received a message from his agent, Xu Ye.
Xu Ye didn’t manage him much, only visiting when Yu Ruoyun had his accident. Yu Ruoyun rarely saw Xu Ye, and most of Yu Ruoyun’s affairs didn’t need Xu Ye’s involvement. In Yu Ruoyun’s early career, Xu Ye, with her excellent networking skills, shielded Yu Ruoyun from many obstacles, while being “Yu Ruoyun’s agent” significantly boosted Xu Ye’s career.
Xu Ye asked, “I heard something’s brewing between you and that little star from Yunteng Entertainment?”
She hadn’t even remembered Long Xingyu’s name.
“Are you here for gossip?” Yu Ruoyun replied. “Maybe you should be prepared—it might not just be that in the future.”
Xu Ye was startled and quickly called.
She was so shocked she didn’t even scold him, just said, “I never expected this.”
“Is it too blatant?” Yu Ruoyun said. “Maybe I was trying to compensate for something. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Having never been exposed to the public before, he was now reckless, like a starving person gorging on an endless supply of food, risking overindulgence. This was unhealthy. Emotions overwhelming reasons could suffocate both him and Jiang Yu.
“Why?” Xu Ye still didn’t understand. “What is he like that made you fall for him?”
“He… He’s good at bluffing, causing trouble,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Wants to touch others, but only uses his claws.”
Xu Ye was silent for a moment.
“I’m looking at his photos,” Xu Ye said. “He resembles Jiang Yu a bit from the side.”
“The person you hid before, was it Jiang Yu?” Xu Ye finally couldn’t resist asking.
The Baron’s carriage rolled leisurely along the road under the moonlight, making an unpleasant crunching sound as the wheels ran over small stones and broken twigs.
The coachman was familiar with the nighttime woods and almost didn’t need the lantern hanging in front to find his way.
The Baron was still resting inside the carriage.
His health had been poor throughout the winter, and he had come to this ball only after reluctantly mustering the energy following a visit to the doctor.
He often said to the coachman, “That greedy woman has taken so much money from me. If I don’t go, wouldn’t that money be wasted?”
However, the coachman didn’t quite understand what the Baron was talking about, as he only ever dropped him off at the front door, watching the elegantly dressed nobleman enter the hall. He had heard that when the moon rose, a lively ball would take place in the castle’s central greenhouse, where beautiful flowers bloomed irrespective of the season—lilies, dahlias, red roses, hyacinths. A well-educated lady would play music on the piano all night long, and the guests would dance and enjoy the finest smoked ham and champagne.
Of course, that was what the Baron had told him.
But when he and the other coachmen waited in the side rooms, they never heard those wonderful sounds, smelled any hint of flowers, nor saw any lights.
If he looked towards the hall, he could only see the castle’s dark and grim silhouette. The curtains themselves were dark and gloomy, hardly matching the vibrancy of a grand ball.
He guessed maybe the greenhouse had thick curtains that blocked out all sounds because the Baron indeed looked exhausted yet delighted the next day, as if he had partied all night.
The banker’s coachman had confidently told him that Mistress Daisy was a witch, speculating that there was no ball in the castle at all. He believed that the terrible woman laced the tea and wine with a sedative, making the nobles who traveled there think they had attended a fantastic revelry, but in reality, while they were unconscious, the witch was busy picking their pockets, stealing valuable gold pocket watches and gemstone rings.
But anyone with a bit of sense knew that was impossible.
The castle was nominally a girls’ school, registered at the city hall, and every city hall had a mirror of truth installed by mages at its gates. Any person or item related to black magic would reveal its true form before the mirror, and that lady had even accepted the Baron’s donations at the city hall.
Regardless, it wasn’t his place to concern himself with such matters.
He was a man of few words and never partook in these gossip gatherings. Perhaps that was why the Baron favored him, always hiring him to drive the carriage—regardless of how many times that lady appeared in the newspapers, those in the know understood that she wasn’t very reputable. The respectable gentlemen in the city always secretly attended her gatherings and wouldn’t use their own coachmen.
For him, it was a stroke of luck, as the Baron was particularly generous. Having not gone out all winter, the coachman had lost most of his income and was struggling, eagerly anticipating this job.
Pleased within, the coachman made his way through the forest, knowing just around the next bend, he would see the gloomy, quiet castle—just then, one wheel suddenly tilted violently, startling the horse, and he quickly pulled on the reins to look back.
“What’s the matter?” the Baron asked from inside the carriage, which, being a rental, had no front window and only decorative side windows, so he had no idea what was happening outside.
“Nothing, sir. Just hit a stone. I’ll check now,” the coachman muttered.
It was already dark, and staying in the night woods wasn’t pleasant, but he also feared damaging the carriage—it wasn’t his property, and his stingy boss would make him pay for any damages.
He straightened his cap, took the lantern, and jumped down to inspect the rear wheel.
The wheel seemed fine, and there was no obstruction on the ground. Why had it jolted so violently?
It felt as though someone had stabbed the moving wheel with a stick… The coachman thought suspiciously. He was just about to stand up straight when he felt an intense chill on the back of his neck, followed by a heavy thud on the back of his head. He swayed forward but couldn’t keep his balance and fell without a sound.
“What’s going on?” Perhaps, due to the delay, the impatient Baron asked again from inside the carriage.
He hoped the carriage hadn’t broken down. Although the castle wasn’t far, a gentleman of his stature absolutely couldn’t walk there. The wild grass and thorns would tear his silk trousers.
Nor was he willing to have the coachman run to the castle to call for another carriage. It would be fine during the day, but it was dark now, and he couldn’t possibly wait alone in the woods.
The Baron, who had left in high spirits, was now regretting not bringing an additional manservant… But that arrogant woman insisted on limiting the number of people entering the castle, and even he was not exempt.
It was ridiculous. She was just a maid who had once served some dignitary and now dared to call herself a Mistress in front of him!
If it weren’t for the cleverly hidden and intricate arrangements she had made in the castle, and indeed, if she hadn’t been able to gather so many varied and beautiful young girls, he wouldn’t have deigned to travel to such a remote location… As he was lost in thought, he heard two light knocks on the carriage wall.
“There’s a bit of trouble, sir.” Perhaps the cold had affected him. The coachman’s voice sounded off. He didn’t want to respond, but without anyone else immediately available, he reluctantly opened the carriage door in frustration. “What—huh?”
His voice trembled in fright. The moment he opened the door, a gleaming, medium-sized dagger was pressed against his throat.
A young person, cloaked and wrapped in a headscarf that obscured their face, held the dagger with one hand and braced the carriage door with the other.
“Good evening, Baron,” the figure said calmly, pushing him back before swiftly climbing into the carriage and closing the door behind them. Their movements were smooth, as if they did this every day.
The Baron had faced kidnappings before, but never like this, unarmed and without guards. His age made him fearful of death, and terror caused his teeth to chatter. It took him a while to manage a whisper from his throat. “I…I am…Baron Pensence…”
Erica chuckled silently within her scarf.
Despite both being nobles, this one was nothing like the Duke of Brandenburg. He would never foolishly think that merely his title could scare off those with ill intentions under such circumstances.
This frail man cowered in a corner of the carriage, trembling, making Erica, used to seeing Shivers’ robust knights, who could carry a keg with one hand, think she could knock out three of him with one punch.
She pressed Baron Pensence against the carriage wall with one hand. This pampered man offered no resistance, allowing her booted foot to step on his seat cushion. The tip of the dagger still remained against his throat.
“Don’t be nervous,” Erica said softly. “Just answer honestly, and I promise not to harm a single finger.”
As she finished speaking, the carriage shook slightly and started moving again, slowly heading towards the castle.
It was always the same woman every time that greeted him in the foyer.
Tall and thin, dressed in a high-collared plaid long dress, she never cracked a smile, and her expression was colder than a snow-covered rooftop, resembling a strict governess ready to whip anyone who stepped out of line.
As soon as the Baron’s carriage stopped, she frowned deeply because today’s coachman was a man she had never seen before.
The coachman jumped down from the carriage, removed his somewhat worn soft cap, and looked at her uneasily.
“Who are you?” she asked sharply.
“Athos Grum, ma’am,” the coachman said. “My uncle has severe back pain, so he asked me to work for him today, ma’am. The Baron is in the carriage.”
The woman sized him up, noting his hair was the same dull reddish-brown as last year’s coachman, and his beard from his lips to his jaw was equally thick, so she nodded. “Go left. There’s a row of stables and hay. You can rest in the wooden hut behind, and someone will notify you when the Baron leaves tomorrow.”
After speaking, she stopped looking at him and walked to the carriage door, only to hear the new guy shivering. “Ma’am, I don’t know the place.”
“You—” she turned abruptly to scold him, but the carriage door opened, revealing the Baron’s somewhat pale face.
“Please show him the way, miss,” the Baron said tiredly. “I know where to go. I can go in by myself. I have someone with me.”
“My Lord, Mistress Daisy wishes to control the number of guests,” the woman said with a furrowed brow.
“I’ve mentioned to the Mistress that I’ve been having some lung issues this year, always short of breath—she knows,” the Baron insisted sternly. “Please show my coachman the way.”
Daphne wore a magenta lace long dress, with a neckline open to her shoulders, revealing her swan-like, beautifully white neck and shoulders. The loose sleeves tightened at the elbows, and a rose of the same vibrant color as her dress was tied around her wrist. Her hands were trembling slightly from nervousness, so she hid them under the fluffy skirt.
Alice was sitting not far to her left on a high-backed chair, having tea with a guest, whispering softly—the man sitting next to her with a meticulously kept mustache couldn’t imagine that the girl in front of him was brewing a crazy plan.
No, the girls in front of him were brewing a crazy plan.
For the past two days, most of the girls had secretly carried cold soup in their pockets, dumping it after leaving the dining hall.
That detestable soup indeed sapped their will, turning them into a flock of docile lambs ready for slaughter.
Alice looked at the fine porcelain teacup in her hand, feeling somewhat breathless—for the sake of appearing as slim as possible, the girls not only received insufficient food on a daily basis, but they also had to endure tightly laced corsets that left them nearly gasping for air. They had to take deep breaths every few seconds and couldn’t move too vigorously, or they would easily faint from lack of oxygen.
That was exactly the effect Mistress Daisy and the ball’s guests wanted.
The malnutrition made them look as fragile and beautiful as the flowers in the garden—tulips, lilies, and irises that swayed in the wind and couldn’t withstand the storm!
‘These perverts,’ Alice thought disgustedly.
She took a deep breath, feeling her head swell again—her corset was just too tight.
Just then, Daphne approached, lifting her skirt slightly as she sat beside her, taking the nearly slipping teapot from her. Their eyes didn’t meet.
Alice sighed with relief, stood up, and curtseyed. She said she needed some fresh air and politely declined the guest’s offer to accompany her.
Daphne was dressed beautifully today, so the guest didn’t insist, which made her exit unobstructed. She moved as naturally as possible past several velvet sofas, walking along the wall with floor-length curtains—she had deliberately worn a dark green long dress similar in color to the curtains, almost unnoticed by anyone.
During the open period of the ball, it was the least restrictive time for the girls’ movements, as no guest liked to see dolls who were frightened and stiff, moving only on command. Even the usual overseers who ensured they “behaved” weren’t in their usual places, obviously because the prominent guests disliked all prying eyes.
As she breathed deeply, she quickly left the greenhouse, carefully avoiding two servants replenishing drinks, and slipped into the holly bushes that were half a person tall.
Although the harsh winter had ended, it was still a while before the true warmth of spring. In the chilly spring wind outside the city, Charlie finally couldn’t help but cover his mouth with a handkerchief and sneeze.
Erica’s complexion also looked rather pale. The cold wind outside the city was so strong that it could penetrate fur coats. For the sake of mobility, they hadn’t dressed too heavily.
Fortunately, they had chosen a hidden spot that allowed them to see the road junction while slightly sheltering from the wind, and the tree trunks nearby provided some relief from the chill, allowing them to warm up beside their horses.
“What method do you think the doctor will use to monitor the Baron?” Erica’s face was pale from the wind. Her tidy, short hair was somewhat disheveled by it.
“I don’t know,” Charlie pondered for a moment, then honestly said, “Dr. Salman… It’s hard to say. He’s mysterious, and although he seems to be a good, honest, and brave person, I also think he hasn’t told us everything.”
Erica nodded.
She could sense that Salman’s sense of justice was genuine, but in their conversations, it was apparent he held back some details about himself. This didn’t necessarily indicate a suspicious nature, just that he was a rational person—after all, who would fully open up to strangers they had only known for a day or two?
Erica even suspected that if Dr. Salman himself had discovered Mistress Daisy’s matter, he would prefer to solve the problem independently rather than form a partnership with them.
But what resources could a bachelor who had sold his possessions to leave town, and who typically kept to himself use to challenge someone like Mistress Daisy, who was intertwined with the powerful?
Could it be that Dr. Salman was a hidden wealthy man?
Using money to gain power was something Erica (and the Duke alike) was confident in, but Dr. Salman said he had a better way to enter the Baron’s estate without leaving traces while looking for clues and evidence, and at the same time also monitor the suspect.
Using magic to achieve this would require considerable magical power, something an unregistered mage like Erica could do, but Dr. Salman had made it clear that he knew nothing about magic.
How could a physically weak surgeon accomplish all this? Both the rabbit-headed shopkeeper and Erica were curious.
However, they weren’t the type to overstep bounds. Since Dr. Salman clearly didn’t want to elaborate on his capabilities, they were willing to leave the intelligence work to him and instead stayed ambushed outside the city, deciding to follow the guests to the castle.
Dr. Salman didn’t betray their trust. Half an hour later, as the sound of horse hooves approached, Charlie peeked out from behind a tree trunk and saw Salman in a gray cloak riding towards them. He quickly joined Erica to greet him.
“The cloth merchant will be the first to leave the city,” Salman said, slightly out of breath. “Then, every quarter hour, the bank manager and the theater owner will depart, with the Baron leaving last, using a carriage rented from the bank, without any crest.”
His complexion looked a bit off, either due to fatigue from the rush or because the actions of these individuals indeed confirmed what Charlie and Erica had suggested.
“Their actions are even kept secret from their families, using the pretext of the girls’ school’s charity. The servants who accompany them are experienced, first taking them to the theater owner’s private salon in the city, then leaving through a back door in different carriages. Fifteen minutes later, the first carriage will exit the city suburbs.”
“We’d better wait until the last carriage—the Baron’s—before following,” Erica quickly said. “Mr. Charlie has previously entered and exited the castle without being noticed, which means its security is not as tight as the royal palace or the bank, so there’s no need to split our forces and sneak in separately.”
Both agreed.
But waiting in the woods in such weather was no easy task. They had to wrap themselves in cloaks and keep stamping their feet, but it was impossible to get warm—since they couldn’t make a fire to brew tea, as the smoke would reveal their position.
Erica then took a small bottle of liquor from the saddlebag of her horse and sat down with her back to the main road, cross-legged.
“Have a bit of liquor. It’ll warm you up,” she said. “We better find something to distract ourselves—how about each of us tell a story?”
Both Salman and Charlie, neither of whom were particularly robust, had been chilled to the bone, so they agreed.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper took the first sip of liquor, thought for a moment, and said, “In Maplewood, there’s an old carpenter with not a single book in his home, but somehow, he always has endless stories to tell. One autumn, I traded him a smoked fish for a story about three brothers.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper fumbled for his pipe but didn’t light it. He leaned against the tree trunk as he spoke.
“Once upon a time, there were three brothers who were very poor, barely able to eat each day. Unwilling to live in poverty, they resolved to become the strongest and wealthiest men in the world. So, they ventured into the world together, seeking their fortune. They climbed many mountains and crossed many rivers.
Along the way, they arrived at a town with a general store. The owner had no children and offered, ‘I’m old and want an heir. If you stay, you can be my sons.’
Thus, the eldest brother stayed to inherit the owner’s wealth.
The second brother and the youngest brother, though realizing they could live comfortably in the town, decided their ambitions were greater and left. They continued on, encountering a forest where a beautiful girl’s horse had stepped into a hunter’s trap.
They rescued the girl, only to learn she was a princess. The second brother returned her to the palace, and the grateful king married her to him. The king had another unmarried younger daughter, but the youngest brother, believing that marrying the princess would bring wealth and status, still felt his ambitions were greater and left alone.
During his travels, he accidentally fell into a valley and met a demon sealed away there. The demon promised that if he broke the seal, it would serve him for thirty years. However, the youngest brother didn’t trust the demon, asking, ‘With such power, you could kill me at any moment. What guarantee do I have that you’ll obey me?’
The demon had no choice but to cut its heart in half and give it to him, saying, ‘Eat my heart, and henceforth, I must drink a cup of your blood each month. If you die, I can’t drink your blood and will fall into a deep sleep.’
The youngest brother said, ‘Let me go back and think about it.’
The demon waited a long time in the valley before he returned, agreeing to break the seal. Once free, the demon grabbed the youngest brother, smugly saying, ‘If I eat you, that half-heart will return to me, and I won’t need to serve you.’
The youngest brother replied, ‘I knew you would renege. I never ate that heart. If you kill me, you’ll never find it.’
The demon was tricked and had to abide by the deal. Unbeknownst to it, the youngest brother had returned and married the king’s younger daughter, having a child whom he had eat the half-heart.
The three brothers worked together to hide the child where the demon could never find him, thereby controlling the demon, gaining countless treasures and an army, truly achieving their great ambitions.”
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper had a great voice. If he wanted, even the menu in the tavern could sound captivating, and time would pass without notice.
The story was a bit long, and both listened intently. If not for Erica being alert enough, they might have missed the two carriages that passed by during the storytelling.
After hearing the story, Dr. Salman pulled out a pocket watch to check the time.
“The theater owner could appear at any moment,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Shall we continue with the stories? We might be running a bit short on time.”
Erica thoughtfully said, “We still have at least a quarter of an hour—since we’re close to the main road, we can stop immediately once we hear the baron’s carriage approaching. Anyway, we are to follow behind him.”
“What Erica said makes sense,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said gently. “I would also like to hear your stories.”
Dr. Salman thought for a moment, “Alright, then I’ll also tell a story.”
He adjusted his glasses and took the wine jug.
“This story is also long, and I might not be able to finish it.
Once, there was a poor couple who had a son, but that year a natural disaster struck, and they harvested no crops at all. So, having no other choice, the couple placed their son in a wooden basin and let it float down the river.
The basin drifted into the forest and was rescued by four forest nymphs. They led a very lonely and boring life, so they adopted the orphan and taught him painting, poetry, and horseback riding in the forest.
Over a decade later, the orphan grew into a charming young man, and surprisingly, all the nymphs fell in love with him. But the young man was unaware of the nymphs’ affection. He fell in love with an orphan girl he met in the forest while she was picking mushrooms.
The two quickly fell in love and wanted to get married and then travel the world. Before their wedding, the young man invited the girl into the forest to introduce her to his foster mothers and to say goodbye together.
The four nymphs were shocked when the young man brought his lover before them. The nymphs appeared happy for them on the surface but were actually burning with jealousy.
The young man asked his foster mothers to bless his love, and the eldest nymph, reluctantly, wished for him and the girl to love each other forever. Even if they were separated by time and space, they would fall in love instantly upon seeing each other again.
The nymphs prepared fine wine and food, trying hard to persuade them not to travel, claiming the forest was the safest place.
The girl, sensing the nymphs didn’t like her, didn’t drink their wine.
That night, the young man, having drunk the wine, slept very heavily, but the girl stayed awake. When the moon rose, she woke the young man, expressing a bad feeling that if they didn’t leave that night, they would never be able to leave the forest.
The young man told her the nymphs were beautiful and loving, but as they left the room, they heard a fierce argument in the living room.
The eldest nymph, for giving them the blessing of true love, was locked up by the other angry nymphs, who also planned a plot to kill the girl and cast a spell to make the young man forever forget the girl.”
He paused here, intending to drink, just as the sun had set and it had gotten colder.
Suddenly, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper stood straight up and made a “shh” gesture to them.
“I’ve been counting, and the last carriage is here,” he said in a low voice.
Although they only heard half the story, the three quickly buckled their cloaks and mounted their horses.
Dr. Salman, holding the reins, saw that Charlie and Erica still looked somewhat disappointed. He smiled gently and said, “It’s not a story with a happy ending, so don’t look so sad. If you really want to hear it, I promise to find time to finish it for you, but now is not the time. The Baron’s carriage has already passed.”
Erica nodded. “Yes, there are more important things to do than listen to stories—let’s go now and be careful. It’s best if they don’t spot us before we reach the castle.”
Kinky Translations 