Author Archives: Thingyan

The shop assistants assigned by the Street Committee included two men and one woman, all looking to be in their twenties.

They arrived punctually at 6:00 AM at Lu Yao’s shop, but she was busy inventorying the fireworks in the storage room and only answered the door a minute later.

Upon seeing them, Lu Yao wasted no time and instructed them to move the fireworks out to the street.

Despite their lean appearances, the assistants, whether male or female, demonstrated impressive strength, swiftly carrying the variously shaped and heavy fireworks to the center of the street.

Lu Yao worked quickly as well. By 6:05 AM, she had twisted the fuses of all the fireworks together and ignited them simultaneously.

The arrangement of the fireworks and the lengths of the fuses had been carefully calculated so that, even though lit at the same time, they would explode sequentially in the sky.

At the cusp of dawn, only a few breakfast shops in the Northern District were open, and there were hardly any customers.

When the first firework exploded, the breakfast shop owners and staff paused their work, hurried to their doorways, and stared upward in awe.

The three assistants stood on the steps outside the DIY workshop, also gazing up at the fireworks with expressions that made them look not particularly clever.

The continuously exploding blue fireworks spread outward like rippling waves, blooming in the darkest part of the night sky.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The deep, resounding booms of the firework shells echoed through the streets, waking the sleeping residents of Ghost Street. Translated on hololonovels. They stumbled out of bed, bewildered, and rushed to their windows to look outside.

The varying shades of blue waves eventually converged into small blossoms of foam, which connected to form flowing lines and finally gathered into a vast sea.

“Whoosh—BOOM!”

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!”

Golden fireworks trailed long tails as they soared upward. When they exploded, the golden flames undulated like ink strokes coming to life.

The Ghost Street residents at their windows stared in amazement, but their expressions quickly shifted.

The undulating golden flames formed sharp lines that gradually outlined a massive, terrifying figure—a giant squid.

Its enormous, pointed head and thick, sprawling tentacles filled the night sky, striking fear into all who saw it.

Across from the DIY workshop, a middle-aged couple running a breakfast shop had been watching since the shop assistants began moving the fireworks.

At first, they found the scene amusing. But when the giant squid appeared, they stole a quick glance at Lu Yao and exchanged shocked, terrified looks.

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!”

More fireworks launched into the sky. The gunpowder-scented street fell silent, as though everyone assumed the display was over.

But then, an unfamiliar sound broke through the stillness.

“Da-da-da—da-da—”

“Da-da-da-da—da-da-da—”

At the West District church, security staff stood in their dormitory hallway, staring blankly at the Northern District sky.

Without needing to inquire further, they could already guess which shop owner was causing such a ruckus this early in the morning.

From the dark, oceanic depths of the sky, a massive whale suddenly surged forth.

Its head was square and well-defined, its jawline sharp, and its body far larger than the golden squid from earlier.

“Da-da-da—da-da-da-da—”

Xu Zhengrong murmured, “It’s a sperm whale…”

The sperm whale, with a dark blue back and silvery-white belly, dove into the scene, opening its mouth wide to clamp down on the golden squid’s body.

The security staff collectively gasped in shock.

The residents and shop owners on the street, who had been watching this fireworks show with a mix of fear and awe, were now utterly dumbfounded.

At first, it seemed like the display was meant to flatter Him. But with the appearance of the whale, it felt more like provocation.

Yet no one on Ghost Street had ever dared to provoke Him, nor had anyone created something so extraordinary.

This morning’s fireworks were clearly different from those of the past two nights.

The golden squid struggled weakly, its thick tentacles flailing feebly before being crushed by the sperm whale’s teeth, ground into fragments, and dissolved into foam.

The security office staff, who had been gasping in astonishment, were left speechless.

The residents and shopkeepers, who had just been trying to figure out what the shop owner was thinking, stopped thinking altogether.

“Whoosh—BOOM—”

After a brief, inexplicable silence, the final few fireworks shot into the sky.

As golden foam was scattered by an imaginary breeze, the remains of the giant squid completely disappeared. The whale flapped its fins, swam out of the deep sea, and leapt above the surface.

“Oooh—Ooooooh—”

The people standing on the ground visibly flinched. It was as if they could actually hear the whale’s calls.

The massive sperm whale’s body crashed back into the sea with a splash.

The waves and the whale dissolved into foam but didn’t scatter. Instead, they coalesced into clouds and then continuously split into silver-white jellyfish.

The tiny jellyfish gradually solidified, resembling little umbrellas drifting down from the sky.

As the first faint light of dawn broke on the horizon, the jellyfish fell over Ghost Street like morning dew.

Blown by the wind, they scattered like dandelion seeds.

The wife of the baozi shop owner caught one in her hand.

The silver-white jellyfish landed in her palm, collapsing like a sheet of paper.

On the paper was written the address of the DIY workshop and details about its latest activities.

In essence, it was another advertisement.

Once the jellyfish had completed its task of delivering the message, it dissolved like a bubble within half a minute.

The street, unknowingly, grew lively as the day broke.

Lu Yao clapped her hands and directed the staff to clean up the remnants of the fireworks.

The task was complete, but the debris needed to be promptly dealt with.

The new staff seemed a bit dull—one command, one action.

They followed her instructions to clean up but stood motionless in the lobby afterward, like wooden statues. Their faces appeared masked, their eyes dull, and they showed almost no expression.

For the moment, Lu Yao didn’t dwell on it. With her first task completed, a new directive appeared in the Shopkeeper’s Guide:

—Rule #2: Please complete the task of serving a total of 666 customers within the next 13 days. The great omniscient deity wishes to see your worth.

Serving 666 customers in 13 days meant an average of 52 customers per day.

With three operation rooms, each accommodating up to 12 customers per session, a single round could host 36 people.

If the jellyfish advertisement proved effective, the difficulty of the task wouldn’t be too high.

However, Lu Yao was more concerned about whether her new staff could meet expectations and quickly adapt to the work.

She needed staff who could independently guide customers, not clueless wooden figures.

Putting the Shopkeeper’s Guide aside, Lu Yao returned to the lobby and called the three new employees over.

The young man with slightly longer hair tied in a small bun at the back was named Gan Qing. His jet-black pupils and vacant gaze made him seem unsettlingly eerie.

The boy with delicate features and a gold earring on his left ear was named Huang Qi. He seemed slightly sharper than Gan Qing, mostly because he smiled, revealing shallow dimples on both cheeks.

The tallest of the three, a long-haired woman named Chen You, was slightly taller than Lu Yao. Her appearance was gentle, and her gaze particularly clear.

With no customers yet, Lu Yao conducted a quick onboarding session for them.

Surprisingly, their learning abilities exceeded her expectations. They quickly grasped her instructions and executed them efficiently.

Understanding they were still in a period of adjustment, Lu Yao assigned them only basic tasks on their first day.

After the brief introduction and training, she assigned Huang Qi to act as a receptionist in the lobby, primarily responsible for customer registration and handling payments.

Compared to Gan Qing and Chen You, Huang Qi appeared more approachable, even able to smile.

The other two were assigned as assistants, shadowing Lu Yao for a few days.

Once they became familiar with guiding customers, Lu Yao planned to let them work independently.

Since the DIY workshop’s activities would rotate regularly, Lu Yao couldn’t yet determine Gan Qing and Chen You’s areas of expertise or whether they were suited for the role of a guide. Privately, she was considering finding more qualified and trustworthy instructors without violating any rules.

This matter couldn’t be rushed.

As the first day of training ended, customers began arriving at the door—starting with returning visitors.

Song Wen and his grandmother, who had visited during the trial period, were the first to show up.

A few minutes later, Liu Jing also entered the store. She hesitated when she noticed the three new staff members, her expression shifting slightly. After a few seconds of deliberation, she slowly approached the front desk and registered her visit.

Within another five minutes, more customers trickled in and began registering.

Lu Yao addressed them: “The shop officially opens today with a new DIY theme: food. This event will last for three days, with today’s focus on making desserts.”

The customers registering were visibly excited.

“I came specifically because of the jellyfish ad! The food on this street is atrocious. I could make something better with my feet!” one of them exclaimed.

Lu Yao could sympathize with their frustration.

After earning some money during the trial period, she had taken the time to buy food from the street.

While the food smelled divine, it tasted bland and disappointing, inspiring her decision to make the first official activity about food.

The standard participation fee for DIY activities was 60 ghost coins, with material costs varying depending on the activity.

For the first day’s baking session, ingredients included various starches, eggs, butter, cream, cheese, sugar, fruits, and jams. A single set of materials cost 40 ghost coins.

If customers found one set of materials insufficient, they could purchase additional supplies for an extra fee.

The early arrivals at the DIY workshop had likely been tormented by the street’s subpar food. After completing their registration and paying the fee, they urged Lu Yao to begin as quickly as possible, eager to dive in.

Once the group was full, Lu Yao didn’t waste any time. She led the customers to the second operation room to start the session.

…

Thingyan: Where is ML? Hurry come and kill this bad god. I’m so annoyed by HIM already.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Chen Huisheng glanced at Fang Cong and asked, “What?”

The newcomer replied, “Sister Jing said, if someone shows signs of transformation , they might try going to that creative DIY workshop.”

Chen Huisheng was puzzled. “Try what?”

The newcomer shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure.”

The fireworks that lit up the northern district’s sky last night had been visible from their dormitory as well.

That shop indeed seemed unique, but everything in Ghost Street ultimately served Him. Even street management personnel like them were no exception.

Street managers were particularly wary of shop owners with too many ideas, as they were easily tempted by Him and could end up becoming His powerful agents.

Fang Cong said, “Liu Jing is no longer part of the management office, nor is she your superior. Besides, she has a record of losing herself, so there’s no need to take her words seriously.”

The newcomer lowered his head and muttered a faint acknowledgment.

An hour later, Team Three’s Du Xiao was taken away by the church.

…

North District Street, Lu Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop.

Inside Classroom One, all six workstations were filled, with a total of 12 customers.

In the lobby outside, four more customers were waiting for the next session.

The fireworks advertisement had proven surprisingly effective. Besides the elderly woman and young man who arrived first, the classroom also hosted five or six middle-aged men and women, as well as several young adults around 18 or 20 years old.

Once the six free slots were filled, the remaining customers had to pay.

The common currency in Ghost Street consisted of Golden Octopus bills and Ghost Coins, each available in a single denomination.

Golden Octopus bills were yellow paper notes featuring a golden octopus portrait, with a face value of 100 units. Ghost Coins were silver-white, ghost-shaped coins about the size of a typical one-yuan coin, valued at 1 unit each.

One Golden Octopus bill could be exchanged for 100 Ghost Coins.

The cost to participate in the fireworks-making activity was 60 Ghost Coins, with an additional 50 Ghost Coins for materials. This meant that participating in the activity typically cost 110 Ghost Coins per person.

However, as a special trial-period offer, customers who chose not to take home their finished fireworks products were exempted from the material fee.

Additionally, the shop offered a hidden service.

Leveraging the shop owner’s special abilities, customers could pay extra for guidance in creating items with special features during the hands-on activity.

For example, in the trial-period fireworks-making activity, customers could normally only create basic fireworks. But if someone wanted to make fireworks with magical effects, they could consult the shop owner and pay extra for the experience.

For now, customers were engrossed in their first experience making fireworks and had not yet inquired about custom services.

Ghost Street’s customers lacked any survival or defensive skills. They were prone to aberration but had no evolved abilities to protect themselves.

Lu Yao found this particularly perplexing but also saw it as a business opportunity. Eventually, people would notice the uniqueness of her DIY workshop.

After explaining the key points of fireworks-making, the customers began their attempts.

Two hours later, the first morning session concluded.

Both the free and paid participants were highly satisfied with the activity. Many of them had spent years wandering Ghost Street, living in fear and rarely engaging in activities other than eating and drinking.

Trying their hand at a craft gave them an unparalleled sense of accomplishment. The only drawback was that free participants couldn’t take their finished products home.

All paid participants chose to take their completed fireworks with them. On their way out, they even asked Lu Yao if she could host a baking workshop next time.

Lu Yao decided to hang a “Wish Book for Activities” at the lobby entrance. Customers could open it to write down the type of hands-on activity they wanted to try. Each page was limited to one suggestion, but other customers could add a “+1” to endorse it. If enough people wished for the same activity, the shop owner would consider fulfilling the request.

By noon, Lu Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop had earned 660 Ghost Coins.

Previously, Lu Yao had been eager to try the food on Ghost Street, but after tasting the candy that Cai Yuxing gave her, her enthusiasm for the street’s cuisine had waned significantly.

As soon as the first wave of customers left, a dozen more filtered into the lobby.

With no time to daydream about food, Lu Yao rested briefly before another wave of twelve customers arrived, filling the classroom once more. By afternoon, she had hosted two more groups of customers and finally hung the “Closed” sign early.

After a full day of talking and instructing, Lu Yao’s throat felt dry, and her head was spinning from exhaustion.

To make matters worse, while she was busy with the hands-on activities in the classroom, more new customers were constantly arriving in the lobby.

There was supposed to be one more session in the evening, but having barely slept the previous night and worked non-stop all day, Lu Yao was too drained to continue. She had no choice but to issue tickets for the next day, asking the customers to return in the morning.

The unexpectedly high demand made Lu Yao reconsider whether she should hire staff. Currently, the shop had three classrooms, so at least two instructors and one receptionist would be necessary to manage the operations. However, hiring staff required submitting an application. Lu Yao decided to endure one more day and reevaluate the situation after the trial period. Perhaps today’s overwhelming turnout was just a fluke.

Boom—boom—boom—!

The sound of fireworks echoed outside the shop, one burst after another.

Leaning against the door with a cup of water in hand, Lu Yao looked up. Brilliant fireworks continued to light up the sky, bursting endlessly. Unlike the previous night’s special display, tonight’s fireworks were ordinary and fleeting, yet their vibrant colors drew crowds to gaze at the spectacle.

Fireworks displays were rare on Ghost Street, so the sight of them caused passersby to stop and look. Meanwhile, word of the newly opened Creative DIY Workshop spread farther with each exploding firework.

The next morning, after a good night’s rest, Lu Yao felt refreshed.

As usual, she grabbed her advertisement board and opened the shop to place it by the entrance, ready to attract customers.

The moment she opened the door, a commotion greeted her.

“It’s open! Finally open!”

“There are still six free slots!”

“Boss, I want to sign up for this activity!”

…

Overnight, more people had heard about the DIY Workshop, and the number of eager participants increased. Customers who had taken tickets the previous day but missed out had arrived early, itching to try after seeing others set off fireworks the night before.

Lu Yao quickly placed the advertisement board by the entrance and welcomed customers into the shop.

By the time she finished explaining the instructions for the first session in Classroom One, the lobby was already packed with waiting customers again.

By six in the evening, Lu Yao had hosted four waves of customers and once again closed early.

Realizing she could no longer handle the influx alone, Lu Yao decided she must hire staff before the official opening tomorrow.

Before heading to the street committee, she took inventory of the workshop’s supplies. Including the completed pieces from the free sessions, the required sixty-six fireworks for the opening ceremony were ready.

All that remained was to set them off tomorrow morning to mark the official opening, and her first task would be complete.

But the more pressing issue was staffing. Lu Yao needed to visit the committee to apply for new hires.

On Ghost Street, management personnel worked the same hours as the shops: 6 AM to midnight, an exhausting 18-hour shift.

After hanging the “Closed” sign, Lu Yao grabbed her map and shop manual and left for the street committee in the Eastern District.

This was Lu Yao’s first time visiting another district, and it wasn’t particularly early.

The daytime rush of customers had kept her tied up, so she stood on the street for a moment, planning to hail a cab.

After two days of trial operations, Lu Yao had saved up some Ghost Coins. For now, transportation and meals wouldn’t be an issue.

Ghost Street had taxis, and Lu Yao managed to flag one down.

After about a 40-minute ride, the taxi dropped her off about 500 meters from the Street Committee’s building.

The driver explained that this was as far as he could go.

As soon as Lu Yao stepped out and shut the door, the cab shot off like an arrow, vanishing with a whoosh.

The Eastern District’s streets were wider than those in the Northern District, and the storefronts were more stylishly decorated, though the streets were sparsely populated.

Lu Yao strolled leisurely, taking ten minutes to reach her destination.

The Street Committee’s building had thirteen floors. In the plaza directly in front of the entrance stood a massive golden octopus statue—a rather peculiar taste in aesthetics.

The entire building looked less like an office space and more like a luxurious palace. Yet, it exuded a strangely lifeless atmosphere.

Within a 200-meter radius of the office building, there wasn’t a single pedestrian.

Sensing something amiss, Lu Yao hesitated. But remembering the help she’d need for tomorrow’s opening, she gathered her resolve and stepped inside.

The moment she entered, a strong, fishy smell filled her nostrils.

The lobby, designed like a bank, had counters arranged in a circle. Behind the glass, staff members sat—each boasting an “artistic” appearance.

Octopus heads and starfish heads were relatively easy to accept. But some staff had anemone-like heads, or even ones resembling sea cucumbers, with mouths that opened and closed like chrysanthemums. The sight was particularly unsettling.

Lu Yao exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself.

Though everything around her was bizarre, she had to pretend it was all normal. Showing weakness in such a place would only invite trouble.

Regret crept in—she shouldn’t have come at night to save time.

At the hiring application counter sat a white ghost with a triangular body resembling a bedsheet. Translated on Hololonovels. Three dark voids on its surface formed what seemed to be its facial features.

Amid the array of peculiar “seafood” appearances, this white ghost looked exceptionally clean-cut and elegant.

Determined to get things done quickly, Lu Yao approached the counter briskly.

“Hello, I’d like to apply for three shop assistants.”

The white ghost slowly raised its head. Its hollow, black eyes fixed on her.

“Northern District, Street No. 13. Lu Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop. Shopkeeper: Lu Yao. Application for three employees. Shopkeeper rating: S-level. Shop potential: S-level. Employee application approved. The three employees will report at 6 AM tomorrow. Shopkeeper, do not disappoint the Lord’s expectations!”

What Lu Yao had anticipated to be a complicated process turned out to be surprisingly straightforward.

With the approval receipt in hand, she promptly exited the building.

After walking a good distance along the eerily empty street, she finally reached a livelier area where she managed to hail a taxi.

On the way back, the driver, making casual conversation, nearly drove into a guardrail when he learned she had just visited the Street Committee’s building.

When Lu Yao got out, the driver glanced up at her shop’s signboard and made a mental note of the place.

…

The next morning, at 6:05 AM.

Lu Yao stood in the middle of the Northern District street, bending down to light the fuse on a bundle of sixty-six fireworks.

The bursts served as a sharp, invigorating wake-up call for the slumbering Ghost Street.

As the morning light broke, magical fireworks streaked across the sky, tearing through the remnants of the night.

Lu Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop was officially open for business!

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

The room fell into an eerie silence. The security team stared at Lu Yao in astonishment, unable to maintain their assertive stance.

Liu Jing, standing a bit further from the team but closer to Lu Yao, had a clear view of how the god seal was brushed away from the shopkeeper’s hand like dust.

Cai Yuxing, standing beside Jiang Lin, finally realized something that had escaped her earlier—this shopkeeper was different.

She wasn’t an ordinary store owner. She didn’t rely on the church or the administrative office, and she could even effortlessly erase a god seal.

The ghost street was a world belonging to Him, where humans were like crops in a field—ripening, then rotting away. If by some miracle they weren’t consumed, their ultimate fate was still to decay in the dirt, never to escape.

But this newly appeared shop was something extraordinary.

Jiang Lin’s consciousness had almost fully recovered, though his movements remained sluggish. He slowly walked over to Lu Yao, his words deliberate and clear: “Thank you, shopkeeper.”

The security team turned their heads in unison, eyes brimming with caution as they focused on Jiang Lin. It was Qin Qiuming, their leader, who spoke first.

“You… are you conscious?”

Jiang Lin raised a shaky hand to rub his forehead, looking fatigued. “Yes.”

Ren You couldn’t help but ask, “Do you remember anything?”

Jiang Lin glanced briefly at Lu Yao before continuing. “I sank to the bottom of the sea, and ahead of me was a long, dark, and winding path. I wanted to follow it deeper, but voices kept calling my name, chattering incessantly and making it impossible to focus. I don’t know how, but somehow I strayed from the path. By the time I realized it, I had surfaced, and when I looked up, I saw the sky filled with fireworks. Eventually, the water that had surrounded me retreated entirely.”

It was during the fireworks display on the street that Jiang Lin regained his clarity, though he had still been groggy at the time.

The security team stared at him, stunned into silence. Their expressions, however, spoke volumes, practically shouting: That’s it? That simple? You were about to fully transform, and now you’re just… back?

Cai Yuxing ran to Jiang Lin, throwing her arms around him as tears streamed down her face. “This is amazing! You’re okay! You’re really okay!”

Jiang Lin looked down, his lips curving into a shy smile as he murmured, “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

Qin Qiuming, however, remained wary. “I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands, of transformations. For someone at your stage, it’s absolutely impossible to escape Him so easily.”

The security team’s relief quickly turned to grim determination. There had been similar cases in the past—transformed individuals regaining apparent clarity, as if breaking free through sheer willpower. But each time, it had proven to be another trap, luring more people into His grasp.

Lu Yao seemed to be deep in thought. “This is worth monitoring. Tonight, I’ll stay with Jiang Lin the whole time.”

There were seven security team members, plus Liu Jing, Cai Yuxing, Jiang Lin, and Lu Yao, making a total of eleven people.

The shop had three operation rooms, which could be rearranged to accommodate everyone for the night. Across from the rooms were restrooms.

The security team explained a crucial rule to Lu Yao: no more than six people could stay in one room.

The number “6” seemed to be something He favored. When a room’s occupants equaled or exceeded six, it often attracted His attention.

Lu Yao recalled the first task listed in the shop’s guidebook and thought it made sense. Apparently, He did like the number “6.”

The room assignments were finalized as follows: Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing in Operation Room 1, five security officers in Operation Room 2, and Lu Yao, Jiang Lin, Qin Qiuming, and Xu Zhengrong in Operation Room 3.

After everyone was settled, it was still early.

The shop’s door remained open, and the security team gathered near the entrance. People bustled about outside, but it was as if the team was sealed in a glass jar—unable to leave and unseen by those passing by.

As midnight approached, the streets grew quieter.

Lu Yao rose and locked up the shop on time.

The makeshift guest rooms were simply furnished. Lu Yao handed out thin blankets for the air conditioning, leaving it up to each person whether to sleep on the floor or on the chairs.

Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong huddled in the corner with their blankets, keeping as much distance from Jiang Lin as possible.

They could have avoided staying in the same room with Lu Yao and Jiang Lin, as the main hall was also available for resting.

However, as the security chief and an experienced veteran, they decided it was their duty to oversee Jiang Lin with the shopkeeper despite her intimidating display of power.

Lu Yao reclined in a chair against the wall, draping a blanket over her legs and closing her eyes to rest.

Jiang Lin sat not far from her, leaning against the wall.

When the lights were turned off, darkness engulfed the room like an encroaching tide.

Lu Yao hadn’t planned to sleep, only to rest her eyes, but drowsiness overcame her, and she eventually drifted off.

…

Midnight

Half-asleep, Lu Yao stirred awake, her ears catching a strange, vaguely familiar sound. It was a wet, squelching noise—like someone walking on a slippery, water-covered floor in damp slippers or a slimy tongue lapping at food.

The operation room was pitch black, with blackout curtains drawn over the windows. The air was heavy and oppressively still.

Lu Yao remembered there was a switch near the wall to her left. She reached out, only to feel something cold and slimy, like mucus, coating her hand.

Suppressing a gag, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself against the nausea.

The next moment, she felt a powerful force. Something slick and wet coiled around her left wrist, yanking her with brutal strength.

While the unknown naturally induced fear, Lu Yao had a hunch about what had ensnared her wrist.

She recalled similar encounters in the theme park game she had once played. Perhaps she had become numb to this level of fright—her mind raced with bizarre, disconnected thoughts as she prepared to test her strength against whatever was dragging her.

All she needed was light. Once the room was illuminated, the monstrous entity hiding in the darkness would be exposed.

Gripping the chair’s armrest with her right hand, Lu Yao leaned left, stretching her fingers toward the switch.

“Click.”

A faint warm yellow light spilled into the room, driving back the darkness.

Lu Yao’s pupils constricted as she took in the scene before her.

Jiang Lin was nowhere to be seen. The entire room had been invaded by a massive, golden-yellow abomination.

Its enormous body filled the space, covered in open, pale gold eyes. Thick, muscular tentacles adhered to the walls, dripping viscous fluid that filled the air with a nauseating stench of wet decay.

Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong were crammed into a corner, their eyes bulging as if on the brink of suffocation.

The creature seemed uninterested in them, its enormous, fist-sized eyes fixated solely on Lu Yao.

Its translucent, mucus-covered skin glistened under the dim light.

Lu Yao steadied her breath, her hand slipping behind her back to retrieve the Regulation Rod.

The creature rotated its myriad eyes, as if scrutinizing her every move.

Lu Yao’s tightly pressed lips curved faintly upward, forming an almost imperceptible smile. Her fingers brushed over the golden vines etched on the staff’s surface.

A thin veil of black mist dissipated from the staff’s grip, revealing a shrouded deity figure. The figure’s lips parted, spitting out eighteen pitch-black orbs.

Lu Yao activated the orbs. They transformed into cone-shaped spikes, sharp at the bottom and rounded at the top, scattering with a swift “whoosh.”

“Splat!”

The spikes pierced the creature’s eyes, and viscous, deep blue ichor oozed from the wounds. Its tentacles flailed violently, shaking the room as if in an earthquake.

The eighteen spikes locked firmly into its eyes. It lifted a massive tentacle, slamming it down with tremendous force.

Lu Yao raised the Regulation Rod, holding it over her head to block the strike.

“I’ve confirmed it,” she said calmly. “In this space, even you are not my match.”

As she spoke, she pushed the tentacle back with a surge of strength, spinning the staff deftly in her hand before plunging its blade deep into the creature’s body.

“Squelch—”

The grotesque, flesh-like mass of the mutated octopus deflated like a punctured balloon, gradually collapsing until only its skin remained.

In the corner, Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong were on their knees, their faces streaked with tears and saliva, their bodies soaked in sticky fluids.

Lu Yao’s gaze remained fixed on the octopus skin, its gold, paper-like surface faintly pulsating beneath.

Jiang Lin was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, Lu Yao stepped forward and lifted the skin. Beneath it lay the boy, stripped bare, his limbs and shoulders pierced by eighteen black spikes. Blood pooled beneath him, mixing with the viscous fluids to form a grim tableau of despair.

Jiang Lin’s eyes were cloudy, but he forced his neck upward to meet Lu Yao’s gaze. With great effort, he rasped, “Truly… thank you.”

Lu Yao froze, her face paling.

Xu Zhengrong staggered over, his face equally drained of color, his voice hoarse. “After a divine descent, the vessel doesn’t survive for long.”

A divine descent. A god’s manifestation in this world.

Yet no one had ever seen the true form of Him. Whenever He appeared, He would use a human body as a vessel.

Once discarded, these vessels would rapidly wither away, like desiccated gourds, leaving only empty shells.

A torrent of potential solutions raced through Lu Yao’s mind. She had seen and experienced enough in various worlds to keep calm in the face of such a dire situation.

Activating the Regulation Rod, she first removed the divine spikes pinning Jiang Lin’s body. Then, using a healing spell imbued with light magic, she closed his wounds. Finally, she crafted a bracelet of Tears of the Deep Sea Goddess and Divine Pearls, fastening it onto Jiang Lin’s wrist.

Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong slumped to the ground, rendered speechless.

Lu Yao checked Jiang Lin’s breathing with her hand, exhaling softly, “He should be fine.”

Xu Zhengrong, snapping out of his stupor, scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping in the process. He practically threw himself toward Jiang Lin, his voice trembling with disbelief. “Really?”

Lu Yao nodded. “He’ll need a few days to recover. As long as he wears this bracelet, he won’t be possessed again or lose himself.”

The Tears of the Goddess were imbued with the divine power of the Sea Goddess Emerald Star. While usually reserved for nurturing divine seedlings, they were more than sufficient to heal Jiang Lin.

The Divine Pearls were crafted from the Divine Wood used to seal the evil god of the Floating World. After the deicidal war, the Celestial Realm, for reasons unknown, gifted Lu Yao numerous rare treasures.

She had little interest in them but specifically requested some Divine Wood from Immortal Lingxiao. Three days later, a small box of Divine Wood arrived, reportedly collected from the last remaining tree, which had withered a thousand years ago.

The bracelet Jiang Lin wore had only one genuine Divine Pearl; the rest were imitations crafted by the deity figure on the Regulation Rod.

Still, paired with the Tears of the Goddess, it was sufficient.

Lu Yao walked to the door, turning on the lights and opening it.

The occupants of the adjacent rooms, startled by the commotion, hesitated to move.

Hearing footsteps in the hallway, they huddled together in fear, trembling until they recognized Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong’s voices. Slowly, they peeked out of their rooms.

When Lu Yao emerged from the bathroom after washing her hands, the clock read past 5 a.m. A crowd stood stiffly at the entrance to the third operation room, resembling wooden stakes planted in the ground.

The tragedy inside was not unfamiliar to those who lived and worked on this street.

What baffled them was the result.

Despite the aftermath of a divine descent, not only had the shopkeeper, the security chief, and Xu Zhengrong survived, but even the young boy who had become the vessel was still breathing.

What had just happened here?

Lu Yao retrieved a clean towel from her personal storage and handed it to Ren You. “Chief Qin and Xu are shaken. Help bring Jiang Lin out, give him a wash, and I’ll fetch him some clean clothes.”

Her voice was calm, yet the stunned crowd took several seconds to react.

As Lu Yao walked down the hall, turning on lights and unlocking the shop’s main door, the security team assisted Jiang Lin, Qin Qiuming, and Xu Zhengrong to the bathroom.

Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing remained in the hallway, still trembling with lingering fear.

After a few minutes, the security team helped Jiang Lin out, but Lu Yao still hadn’t returned.

Liu Jing fetched the blanket from their room to wrap around Jiang Lin. When Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong came out, she grabbed the blankets from the security team’s room as well.

The group hurried to the hall, their faces filled with panic when they saw the open shop door but no sign of Lu Yao.

Ren You, as if splashed with cold water, stammered in a trembling voice, “It’s barely five o’clock—where could she have gone?”

Cai Yuxing added, “The shopkeeper said she was going to get clothes for Jiang Lin. I thought she had spare clothes prepared.”

One of the security members couldn’t help but chime in, “She’s a woman living alone—why would she have clothes for a young man lying around?”

Seeing the half-open door, Cai Yuxing seemed on the verge of tears, muttering, “Could she have gone out to buy clothes for Jiang Lin?”

The rule that no shops in Ghost Street could operate before six o’clock was absolute and unbreakable.

Liu Jing tried to reassure them. “Don’t panic. Lu Yao knows the rules.”

Xu Zhengrong, wrapped in a thin blanket, strode to the door.

At this time of night, Ghost Street wasn’t a place for humans. Just glancing outside could mean he might never return. But he had to confirm Lu Yao’s situation.

He pulled the blanket tightly around him, took a deep breath, and cautiously looked outside. His tension and anxiety eased when he saw the scene beyond the door.

Xu Zhengrong froze, then raised a hand to rub his eyes vigorously before looking again, confusion overtaking his expression.

The others, still at a distance, couldn’t understand what he was seeing and dared not approach.

Ren You noticed Xu Zhengrong’s strange expression and whispered nervously, “Xu-ge, what’s going on?”

Xu Zhengrong glanced at him, then back outside. After a moment, he motioned for Ren You to come over.

Ren You hesitated but shuffled to stand behind Xu Zhengrong. When he peeked outside, he mimicked Xu Zhengrong’s earlier actions, rubbing his eyes furiously.

Liu Jing, increasingly anxious, asked, “What’s going on? Did you see Lu Yao?”

Ren You quickly wiped his eyes and gestured to the others.

They carefully approached the door, leaving the unconscious Jiang Lin in a chair in the hall.

What lay beyond the door was not the familiar Ghost Street but an unfamiliar and desolate street, lit by orange streetlights that stretched the visible horizon.

Across the cracked concrete road were scattered shops—a cybercafé, a tutoring center, a blind box store—each bearing a name they recognized: Lu Yao.

The quiet street lacked the bustling facade of Ghost Street but felt authentic and endearing.

It was nothing like the eerie, superficial cheer of Ghost Street.

One of the security members tentatively reached out, only to have their hand stopped by a transparent, invisible barrier at the doorframe.

They still couldn’t step through.

Another security member asked, “What is this place?”

Liu Jing’s face shifted as she recalled the food Lu Yao had served them, her voice low as she speculated, “Could this be the world outside Ghost Street? The food in Lu Yao’s shop wasn’t better because she found good sources—it might be because it didn’t come from Ghost Street at all.”

Ren You struggled to process the situation. It was far beyond his understanding. Shaking his head vigorously, he hesitated before asking, “Are you saying Lu Yao came from outside?”

A teammate couldn’t help but remark, “What’s the big deal? Everyone comes from outside.”

Ren You retorted, “She’s different. She can still go back.”

Qin Qiuming and Xu Zhengrong, recalling the events during the divine descent, realized their initial assumptions might have been completely wrong.

Just then, Lu Yao emerged from the dimly lit night, her shadow stretched thin under the streetlamp. She walked through the serene, dark street, passing shop after shop, heading straight for the DIY workshop.

The group at the door grew restless and hurriedly retreated, helping Jiang Lin up and quickly returning to the operation classroom.

Standing at the door of the first operation room, Qin Qiuming lowered his voice, “Don’t spread word about tonight’s events. Let’s investigate the shopkeeper’s origins before filing any reports.”

The group’s minds buzzed with curiosity, yet they understood the stakes.

They didn’t know why Lu Yao had come to Ghost Street or why she could traverse freely between two worlds.

But they hoped this was a chance. Or at least, they desperately wanted it to be.

Lu Yao entered the shop and handed a few sets of clean clothes to Xu Zhengrong. “Change into these first. How’s Jiang Lin doing?”

Qin Qiuming replied, “He seems to be asleep.”

Lu Yao glanced over and nodded. “He’ll need some time to recover. It’s almost dawn. I brought some breakfast—help yourselves if you’re hungry. By six, you can leave.”

She opened the boxes, revealing freshly made crispy stuffed pancakes—both savory and sweet—along with buns, fried dough sticks, shumai, and soft tofu pudding.

The aroma filled the room, and the security team, despite their usual politeness, couldn’t resist. After a few words of thanks, they eagerly grabbed the pancakes and tofu pudding, eating with gusto. Some even shed silent tears while savoring the meal.

Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing sat together, nibbling on shumai and fried dough sticks, sipping tofu pudding more gracefully than the men, though they, too, occasionally wiped at their eyes.

It was as if they had glimpsed a glimmer of hope, though they didn’t dare to expect too much. None dared to ask Lu Yao outright about her intentions, afraid it might shatter what seemed like a fragile fantasy born of desperation.

Yet the warmth of the food in their hands, the richness of its flavor, felt so real.

Lu Yao ate just a few bites before the thought of the mess in the third operation classroom made her restless.

Before sunrise, she needed the room cleaned and ready for business.

She donned rubber boots and went in, placing cleaning charms along the walls and floor. After scrubbing the room three times, inside and out, she finally deemed it satisfactory.

Before the security team and the others left, Lu Yao produced a stack of confidentiality agreements.

The contract required everyone to keep silent about everything they had experienced and witnessed at the DIY shop that night.

Qin Qiuming and his team hesitated only briefly before signing. Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing also added their signatures without objection.

Jiang Lin remained unconscious, so Cai Yuxing guided his hand to press a fingerprint on the contract.

Jiang Lin and Cai Yuxing left with the security team for the church, while Xu Zhengrong and Ren You escorted Liu Jing back to the management office.

At 7 a.m., the group, having spent the night at the DIY workshop, departed with a swirl of indescribable emotions.

Lu Yao placed the advertisement board back outside and returned to the shop to continue cleaning.

The little fireworks ad from last night—she wondered if it had any effect. With more time, she could have made it even flashier.

“Boss, there are two of us. We’d like to join the hands-on activity advertised outside.” A clear voice rang out behind her.

Lu Yao turned around. At the door stood an elderly woman and a young man.

The elderly woman wore gray, finely striped pants paired with a dark red floral tunic. She was petite, slightly hunched, and her thin, wrinkled face was pulled into a dry, faint smile.

Lu Yao was a bit surprised.

She hadn’t seen any guests this old on the street.

Next to the elderly woman stood a young man, likely around Jiang Lin’s age. He was tall and slender, with an impassive expression—the speaker earlier.

Lu Yao brought out the registration book. “Participants need to register.”

The young man’s name was Song Wen, and the elderly woman, surnamed Xu, was his grandmother.

After taking their details, Lu Yao went to fetch some tea. When she returned, there were four more people standing at the door. Translated on Hololonovels.

They had also come to participate in the fireworks-making activity.

In under half an hour, all the free spots for the second day’s activity were filled.

Lu Yao greeted the guests warmly, completed their registration, and led them to the first operation classroom.

…

North District Management Office

Liu Jing was packing her belongings in the office.

Chen Huisheng had gone out for fieldwork and wasn’t around.

Fang Cong had been in the office but left for the smoking room after Liu Jing arrived. This left only a newcomer in the office.

The newcomer, facing such a situation for the first time, seemed unsure of what to do.

Liu Jing calmly packed up her things. None of her older colleagues were around when she finished, so she only managed to bid the newcomer a brief farewell.

When Fang Cong returned from the smoking room, Liu Jing had already left.

That afternoon, Chen Huisheng returned from his fieldwork in low spirits. “Du Xiao from Team Three is showing signs of transformation and cognitive decline. The church will come to collect him shortly.”

Yesterday, Liu Jing left.

Today, it was another. He couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in his heart.

Fang Cong remained silent.

The newcomer, seated in a corner, hesitated for a while before speaking in a quiet voice: “This morning, when Sister Jing was leaving, she said something to me.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

The dazzling fireworks lingered in the sky above Ghost Street, refusing to dissipate. Jiang Lin craned his neck, staring at the brilliant display, and the dazed look in his eyes gradually gave way to clarity.

It was as though a hand had swept away the thin mist shrouding his memories, bringing the blurry images into sharp focus.

He remembered.

The events from four years ago, everything about Ghost Street, and the reason he and Cai Yuxing had walked into the DIY workshop.

Jiang Lin shifted his gaze slightly and saw Cai Yuxing standing beside him.

She, too, was watching the fireworks in the night sky, just as she had four years ago.

Across from the DIY workshop, a handful of patrons in the “Abyss” bar had left their seats and walked outside. They glanced curiously at the people across the street before tilting their heads up to admire the fireworks.

Lu Yao noticed that the bartender from last night had also stepped out of the bar at some point.

Unlike the others, he wasn’t looking at the fireworks—he was looking at her.

The octopus atop his head seemed even larger than it had been the night before, its tentacles covered in countless protrusions.

Strangely, no one else appeared to notice anything unusual.

This man’s condition seemed different from Jiang Lin’s.

Lu Yao lowered her gaze slightly and, as she had the previous evening, gave him a polite nod.

The loud, vibrant five-minute fireworks show finally came to an end, with every shell made that afternoon expended.

After several seconds, the effect of the nightfall firework faded, revealing the softly glowing hues of twilight as the sun neared the horizon. The tranquil dusk once again wrapped itself around the street.

Lu Yao clapped her hands and called out to Jiang Lin and Cai Yuxing, who were still standing at the door in a daze. “For a first attempt, it’s pretty impressive. Come on, let’s go eat.”

After a busy afternoon, Lu Yao was indeed hungry.

She pulled out her phone, ready to order food from one of the snack shops nearby. Before she could enter, someone ran up behind her.

“Hey, those fireworks—were they really handmade?”

Lu Yao turned to see a middle-aged man with a thick beard hurrying toward her, his eyes bright and fixed intently on her.

“Of course,” Lu Yao replied.

The man glanced at the advertisement board next to her, his expression briefly stunned before regaining composure. He quickened his pace. “I want to try.”

Lu Yao was about to agree.

It wasn’t yet six o’clock. If she grabbed a quick bite, there was still time to fit in another session before midnight.

But Xu Zhengrong and Ren You reacted faster, stepping in to block the man.

She couldn’t hear what they said, but the man cast her a deep, reluctant glance before turning back toward the bar across the street.

The other onlookers, having witnessed this exchange, seemed to understand something. Gradually, they began to disperse.

Lu Yao’s gaze cooled as it swept over Xu Zhengrong and Ren You.

Liu Jing tugged at her arm and shook her head. “The church will send someone soon. It’s better not to accept any more guests.”

Lu Yao withdrew her gaze. “Fine, I’ll cooperate.”

Liu Jing lingered at the door. “I should head back to the office. I’ll visit again tomorrow—save me a slot to try the activity.”

With so much happening, Lu Yao didn’t have time to ask Liu Jing about her situation.

Liu Jing seemed busy herself. She said her goodbyes and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Xu Zhengrong.

The security team needed to stay and watch over Jiang Lin until reinforcements from the church arrived. Without anyone available to escort her back to the management office, Liu Jing had no choice but to stay at the workshop for now.

Lu Yao shrugged indifferently. “If you’re stuck here, you might as well join us for a simple meal. I was just about to order.”

Back inside, Lu Yao placed an order for six classic set meals.

Xu Zhengrong and Ren You hadn’t expected the shop owner to include them in her order and hurriedly, though earnestly, declined.

The aroma of the delivered meal was utterly enticing, far more tantalizing than the usual fare at Ghost Street’s snack stalls.

Xu Zhengrong and Ren You silently turned away, swallowing hard to stifle their hunger. Yet, unable to resist, they cast furtive glances back at the shopkeeper and the other three guests.

The snack shop, prepping ingredients for its evening barbecue stand, had thoughtfully included a three-tiered seafood barbecue set as a treat for Lu Yao.

The guests, already captivated by the delicious scent, were practically salivating.

Then, the top layer of the box was lifted, revealing charcoal-grilled squid and small octopus sprawled generously across the first tier.

Everyone except Lu Yao sprang back, retreating several steps, their faces pale, bodies trembling as if they were leaves in a storm.

It suddenly dawned on Lu Yao: Ghost Street’s absence of seafood shops, combined with other peculiarities, likely meant its residents harbored a deep-seated fear of such creatures.

But the snack shop’s chefs had truly outdone themselves. The seafood was perfectly grilled, rich with sauce and emitting a tantalizing smoky aroma.

Lu Yao removed the first tier, exposing the second layer of garlic butter oysters and the third, filled with grilled shrimp and conch meat. “These are just normal snacks; there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Despite their watering mouths, the others shook their heads vigorously.

Understanding that such fears couldn’t be easily overcome, Lu Yao didn’t push them to try the seafood.

Fortunately, the standard meal boxes were equally delectable: short-grain rice with a pearly sheen, braised premium magical beast meat from Alexander Continent, stir-fried bamboo shoots with pork, sautéed seasonal vegetables, a hearty three-flavor soup, and a cooling summer-exclusive dessert.

Jiang Lin, Cai Yuxing, and Liu Jing calmed down and chose seats farther from Lu Yao to eat.

One bite was all it took to hook them—they couldn’t stop. The meal’s deliciousness was simply irresistible.

Meanwhile, Xu Zhengrong and Ren You clung to their unopened meal boxes, unwilling to let go yet too stubborn to give in to their hunger.

As the Church’s security team arrived at the DIY shop, the rich aroma from within hit them before they even reached the door. Entering, they were greeted by the sight of the shopkeeper devouring grilled octopus with evident relish.

Xu Zhengrong immediately handed his boxed meal to Ren You and stepped forward to meet the newcomers.

The team leader, Qin Qiuming, surveyed the scene, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. His hands trembled slightly as he watched Lu Yao down three octopus in quick succession before moving on to the squid. He urgently gestured for Xu Zhengrong to step aside and report.

The other four team members stood rooted to the spot, their expressions frozen in disbelief.

Ren You quickly joined them.

A veteran security officer pulled him into the group and glanced at the meal box in his hands with a peculiar expression. “Which one is the transitional lamb’?”

Ren You discreetly pointed toward Jiang Lin. “That boy.”

The officer followed his gaze, his frown deepening. “Didn’t the report say his symptoms were severe?”

Ren You quickly summarized what had transpired before their arrival.

The four officers shifted their wary gazes from Jiang Lin to Lu Yao, their apprehension growing.

A senior officer, whose face had been grim from the start, asked, “Does she have a god seal?”

Ren You’s face turned white as he shook his head vigorously.

The god seal, occasionally found on Ghost Street’s residents, was said to mark those chosen by Him.

Intelligence gleaned at great cost—countless lives and souls of security officers—indicated that bearers of the god seal often possessed extraordinary, terrifying powers.

Such individuals used these powers to aid Him in luring and misguiding Ghost Street’s ordinary inhabitants into their doom.

The last god seal bearer had nearly turned the South District into a wasteland. Thousands of guests, shopkeepers, and even district administrators were dragged into the abyss, transformed into grotesque creatures to serve as His sustenance.

The Church had paid a staggering price to eliminate that threat, leaving the security division critically understaffed.

If this new shopkeeper in the North District turned out to be another god seal bearer, they weren’t sure they’d survive the fallout.

While the others whispered among themselves, Lu Yao quickly finished her dinner. Across from her, Jiang Lin and Cai Yuxing had also emptied their plates.

Qin Qiuming, seeing Lu Yao clearing the table, steeled himself and approached her cautiously. “Hello, I’m Qin Qiuming, the director of the West District Church Security Office.”

Lu Yao stood up and greeted him calmly, “Hello.”

Qin Qiuming avoided her gaze, lowering his eyes slightly. “I assume Xiao Xu has already explained the situation. Jiang Lin has exhibited severe signs of transformation. For the safety of the street, we must take him back to the church.”

Lu Yao had been observing carefully. While the security team didn’t seem as helpless as Cai Yuxing had described, their intent to take Jiang Lin was evident.

In the past, Lu Yao would have let them handle it. As long as it didn’t affect her shop or tasks, she rarely intervened.

But recently, she had begun to reflect more deeply on small matters. Perhaps she had grown stronger than she imagined over the past year, capable of achieving far more than she once thought possible.

She walked over to Jiang Lin and removed his mask.

Cai Yuxing gasped in shock.

Jiang Lin’s appearance had significantly improved. His skin and limbs had mostly returned to normal, leaving only a pink, tumor-like protrusion beneath his left eye.

Even Xu Zhengrong and Ren You were astonished.

Ren You’s voice trembled, “He’s really recovering!”

The other security officers, who had just arrived, were confused, not knowing the full context.

Lu Yao, now confident her hypothesis was correct, turned to Qin Qiuming. “Apologies, but Jiang Lin is my guest. Since the incident occurred in my shop, I have a responsibility to help him recover. Judging by his current progress, he should be fully healed by tomorrow.”

Qin Qiuming felt a headache forming.

This shopkeeper was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered. Even after witnessing the transformation process, she seemed entirely unafraid.

After a pause, Qin Qiuming firmly reiterated his stance: Jiang Lin must be taken to the church.

At this, Liu Jing, who had remained silent, finally spoke up. “I spent some time in this shop before going to the church earlier today. The guest’s transformation symptoms genuinely disappeared. Maybe this could be an opportun—”

“Enough!” Qin Qiuming’s voice suddenly rose, his cold gaze cutting Liu Jing off. “You are no longer a North District street administrator. You have no authority to interfere in our work.”

Liu Jing bit her lip, her eyes reddening.

Lu Yao interjected calmly, “There’s no need to lash out at others over your frustrations.”

Qin Qiuming’s expression darkened further, his breathing heavy.

Lu Yao’s tone was steady. “Let me be clear: Jiang Lin and Cai Yuxing will both stay in my shop tonight. And until dawn tomorrow, none of you will be able to leave this place.”

Everyone in the room froze and stared at Lu Yao in disbelief.

Ren You, unwilling to accept her claim, bolted toward the door.

Despite appearing just a few steps away, the door seemed like a mirage—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get closer.

Lu Yao clapped her hands lightly. “No need to panic. I don’t eat people, nor do I have peculiar hobbies. I simply want to observe Jiang Lin’s condition without distractions. Please stay here tonight.”

The guests and security officers stared at her in stunned silence, their expressions shifting to one of growing fear.

Lu Yao lowered her gaze.

At some point, a strange mark had appeared on the back of her right hand.

One of the security officers clutched his head and cried out in despair, “It’s a god seal!”

Lu Yao raised her left hand and pressed it against her right. Activating her ability, intricate golden patterns spread across her entire left arm, glowing faintly as the seal was slowly erased in front of everyone.

“I’m not really a fan of tattoos,” she remarked nonchalantly.

The security officers and guests were speechless.

Not a fan of tattoos, but here she was with a full sleeve.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Jiang Lin’s condition was far from good. Nearly half of his skin and limbs had undergone mutation, becoming smooth, sticky, and an unsettling shade of fleshy pink. His head was dotted with protrusions that, if opened, might reveal golden vertical pupils. His limbs hung limp, as though devoid of bones.

Lu Yao put away the Regulation Rod, bent down, and lifted Jiang Lin from the floor, placing him back onto a chair.

Cai Yuxing, still dazed, stood up and moved closer to Lu Yao, her voice trembling with residual sobs. “Can he recover?”

Lu Yao didn’t answer directly, instead asking, “Have you encountered this before?”

Jiang Lin’s rapid mutation stood in stark contrast to Liu Jing’s earlier condition, which seemed significantly less severe. Lu Yao speculated that Liu Jing might have experienced her first instance of such a phenomenon, whereas Jiang Lin and Cai Yuxing had likely faced it numerous times before.

Once someone lost the ability to recognize their own humanity, they could gradually transform into one of those beings. It was clear that the god of Ghost Street had a dark and twisted sense of humor.

Cai Yuxing nodded. “Many times. But this is the first time it’s been this severe. When someone reaches Jiang Lin’s state, they usually transform completely very quickly.”

Years of survival experience on Ghost Street had taught Cai Yuxing that Jiang Lin was beyond saving. Yet, something about the shopkeeper’s demeanor inspired a fragile glimmer of hope—perhaps she had a way.

Lu Yao asked, “When this happened before, how did you deal with it?”

Cai Yuxing explained, “We’ve always been together, so one of us is always alert. At night, we take turns keeping watch. When we notice something wrong, we wake the other up—sometimes even resorting to hitting them to bring them back to their senses. But every time this happens, the effect of these methods weakens. Based on how often it’s happened, Jiang Lin and I don’t have much time left.”

When they first arrived on Ghost Street, they were young and pure-hearted, their bond enabling them to endure for so long. Most of the people who had come with them three years ago had already succumbed to His influence.

Lu Yao lowered her gaze in thought. Loss of self-recognition seemed to be the root of human mutation. Reestablishing a sense of humanity might reverse the symptoms.

Recalling Liu Jing’s earlier condition, an idea began to form. “In that case, why don’t we try making a few fireworks?”

Cai Yuxing was taken aback. Watching the shopkeeper’s serious expression, she assumed Lu Yao was considering an effective remedy—but then this?

Lu Yao didn’t elaborate on her hypothesis, as it was still unverified. She simply said, “If Jiang Lin’s condition is discovered by the church…”

“He can’t go to the church!” Cai Yuxing interrupted, her voice rising in alarm. “The church is one of his pawns. Anyone who mutates and goes there is just food delivered to the dining hall.”

Lu Yao: “…”
So that’s how it is.

Cai Yuxing hesitated before relenting, “Alright, let’s make fireworks.”

With no way out, even if this was merely a distraction, it was better than facing their fate immediately.

While Cai Yuxing and Jiang Lin understood the concept of flame reactions, they didn’t know how to actually make fireworks.

Fortunately, Lu Yao had done her homework. She started by playing a video on the demonstration platform, explaining the principles of firework creation.

They watched the video repeatedly until they had a rough grasp of the process. Then, they followed the steps shown in the video to start making the fireworks.

The color of a firework’s explosion is determined by the heavy metal materials mixed into the powder, which are then processed into small spheres called “stars.”

The shape of the firework is determined by how these stars are arranged inside the launch tube—a part that could be freely designed.

Jiang Lin, whose consciousness was still hazy, moved with the clumsy motor skills of a young child.

Lu Yao occasionally praised Jiang Lin: “Jiang Lin, you’re doing great! This star is so perfectly round!”

For safety reasons, Lu Yao strictly controlled the materials and proportions used for the handmade fireworks, ensuring that the guests could safely enjoy the fun of the activity.

Jiang Lin visibly brightened at her words. His large orange-yellow eyes gleamed as he reached into the materials again. Before long, he held up a blackish star-shaped piece in his soft, boneless hand, proudly showing it to Lu Yao.

Lu Yao smiled encouragingly: “Jiang Lin, you’re getting better and better!”

Cai Yuxing watched Jiang Lin with increasing sorrow in her eyes as she absentmindedly placed the star she had made onto the tray in front of her.

Jiang Lin noticed that Cai Yuxing’s stars were neater than his. His orange-yellow eyes darted between her work and his own hand.

Cai Yuxing, absorbed in her grief, didn’t notice Jiang Lin’s reaction.

Lu Yao gently patted Jiang Lin’s shoulder. When he turned to look at her, she spread her hand wide, demonstrating a gesture for him to follow.

After repeating the motion several times, Jiang Lin began to imitate her actions. He picked up a portion of materials, placed it in the mold at his side, and pressed it into a uniform sphere.

Lu Yao clapped her hands in delight. “Amazing! Would you like a candy?”

Jiang Lin tilted his head curiously. “Candy?”

Lu Yao pulled out a handful of fruit and milk candies from her pocket, giving a few pieces to Jiang Lin before turning to offer some to Cai Yuxing.

This time, without needing Lu Yao to guide him, Jiang Lin watched Cai Yuxing remove her rubber gloves and shuffle over to the sink to wash her hands. Slowly, he mimicked her, peeling off the wrapper and putting the candy into his mouth.

As the sweet strawberry-flavored candy melted on his tongue, the little monster-like boy’s eyes sparkled with joy.

Cai Yuxing was equally surprised as she chewed the candy, the sweetness spreading in her mouth. “Lu Yao, your candy tastes so different from the ones on this street!”

Lu Yao, caught off guard, replied vaguely, “Oh?”

Cai Yuxing pulled out two pieces of candy from her pocket and handed them to Lu Yao. “Try these, and you’ll see.”

Lu Yao unwrapped one, and though the scent was rich, the taste was disappointingly bland—like an overly diluted soda from a self-service restaurant.

Cai Yuxing asked eagerly, “How is it?”

Lu Yao shook her head. “Not great.”

Cai Yuxing frowned. “Why is your candy so much better? It’s sweet and full of flavor.”

Lu Yao gave a nonchalant explanation: “Maybe because it’s handmade in the shop? That might make it taste better.”

Cai Yuxing’s expression grew complicated. “If that’s true, your shop will soon become one of the hottest spots on this street.”

Lu Yao recognized the potential business opportunity but remained cautious. Ghost Street wasn’t like Dreamland. Based on what the two patrol guards and Cai Yuxing mentioned, many snack shops on the street seemed to have mediocre flavors despite their trendy decor and thoughtful designs.

The disparity puzzled her. Why did these shops neglect the most crucial aspect—the taste?

For now, however, she set the thought aside. The immediate priority was solving Jiang Lin’s problem.

…

Outside the Quiet Room, West District Church.

The employees of the security office and reception area gathered at the entrance, whispering in astonishment and puzzlement as Liu Jing stepped out of the quiet room.

Liu Jing removed the restraining device and emerged, her heart equally full of questions. After being forcibly restrained for four hours, she had managed to leave the quiet room unscathed.

Around her, the murmurs grew:

“That’s her!”

“They’re really letting her go?”

“Management staff showing signs of mutation—shouldn’t the ritual have started immediately?”

“Her mutation stopped midway. During the four hours in the quiet room, she didn’t lose herself once.”

“Who is she?”

…

Ignoring the prying stares, Liu Jing walked steadily through the crowd, her expression composed despite the storm of thoughts swirling within her.

Xu Zhengrong and Ren You waited at the back of the crowd.

They were tasked with escorting Liu Jing back to the North District.

Although she had safely emerged from the quiet room, the fact that she had once succumbed to a loss of self remained undeniable. Even if she returned to the management office, she would no longer be fit to work as an administrator. Her return would be limited to collecting her belongings. From now on, she would be just another ordinary guest on Ghost Street, perpetually monitored by the church’s security personnel.

As evening approached, the streets began to buzz with activity.

The patrol motorcycle entered the North District’s streets.

When Liu Jing spotted Lu Yao’s shop, she couldn’t help but say, “Stop for a moment; I want to see the shop owner.”

Ren You noticed the sign at the entrance and remarked, “The available slots dropped by two.”

Xu Zhengrong stopped the motorcycle.

The three of them dismounted and walked toward the DIY workshop.

Upon reaching the entrance, they found the hall empty.

Liu Jing noticed a sign pointing toward the adjoining activity classroom, gesturing toward it before stepping forward. She led the way toward the classroom.

Before they reached the door, they heard voices coming from inside.

Ren You grew curious. What could be so interesting about a craft activity?

Liu Jing was the first to reach the doorway, already preparing what she would say to Lu Yao. But the sight inside froze her in her tracks.

Xu Zhengrong, right behind her, frowned as she blocked the doorway. He looked up to urge her forward, only for his face to turn pale.

Ren You, the last to arrive, complained, “Why are you all just standing there? Let’s go in.”

Xu Zhengrong turned back to glare at him.

It was then that Ren You saw the distorted creature sitting beside Lu Yao in the classroom. His scream was halfway out of his throat when he slapped a hand over his mouth, sweat pouring down his face.

Lu Yao noticed the three clustered at the doorway and stood up to greet them. “Oh, you’re all here. Are you also interested in trying out today’s activity?”

Liu Jing, her legs trembling, stepped forward and grabbed Lu Yao’s wrist, pulling her outside. “Shop owner, why… why is there that kind of thing in your shop?”

Inside the classroom, Cai Yuxing and Jiang Lin noticed the commotion at the door.

Jiang Lin appeared curious.

Cai Yuxing, however, recognized Liu Jing’s and Xu Zhengrong’s uniforms, representing the management office and the church, respectively. Despair rose like suffocating smoke, threatening to engulf her completely.

Lu Yao glanced back at the two in the classroom, making a reassuring gesture before turning back to speak. “They came to the shop shortly after you left and encountered an accident. But compared to how he was at first, he’s already improved a lot.”

As Lu Yao spoke, a shadow butterfly responsible for real-time recording fluttered over.

The butterfly’s wings stirred, scattering luminous powder that formed a palm-sized projection in front of the three.

The projection displayed footage of Jiang Lin during his initial stage of mutation—a ghastly, mindless creature far more horrifying than his current state.

The accelerated video showed Jiang Lin’s body slowly and noticeably recovering, with his actions gradually regaining coherence.

Xu Zhengrong’s composed demeanor cracked, his eyes widening and pupils constricting. “How is this possible…”

Liu Jing’s astonishment was no less than Xu Zhengrong’s. A sudden thought flashed in her mind: Could her safe emergence from the quiet room also be related to this shop?

Ren You was speechless.

He had never heard of someone recovering from mutation. In their understanding, once symptoms of mutation appeared, they were the prelude to an endless descent into despair.

Xu Zhengrong pressed a hand to the communicator in his ear, the other hand pinching his thigh to force himself into composure. He suddenly felt a need to hide his unease from the young shop owner. “What do you want?”

Lu Yao smiled faintly. “After this afternoon’s tests, I’m confident Jiang Lin can fully recover—if I’m given enough time. Simply put, I hope you won’t interfere.”

Ren You took a deep breath.

Completely misjudged!

This wasn’t some sweet and innocent newbie—it was someone with an attitude that could outdo their director.

Xu Zhengrong kept his composure. “Apologies. The situation is indeed unusual, but we lack the authority to make decisions. I’ll report this faithfully to our superiors.”

With that, Xu Zhengrong began dialing and gave a detailed report on Jiang Lin’s condition in front of Lu Yao.

Lu Yao knew this wouldn’t be resolved easily. Pressuring the two patrol officers would be futile. She turned to Liu Jing instead. “You’re fine now?”

Liu Jing nodded. “Yes.”

Lu Yao smiled faintly. “Good.”

She returned to the classroom and picked up one of the completed fireworks shells, calling out to Jiang Lin and Cai Yuxing: “Since we’re done, let’s go test these outside.”

After confirming with Cai Yuxing that Ghost Street had no “prohibition on fireworks” rules, she saw no reason to hold back.

Cai Yuxing hesitated but eventually tugged Jiang Lin along. The two were the most ordinary of residents on this street, powerless to resist the street, the church, or the whims of Him. Their fates had been sealed the day they arrived four years ago, though they had stubbornly refused to accept it.

As they reached the doorway, Lu Yao tossed a white mask to Jiang Lin. “A little prop I made while I was idle earlier. Wear it—you’ll feel safer.”

Jiang Lin fumbled with the mask, unsure how to put it on. Cai Yuxing helped him secure it over his face.

Xu Zhengrong, mid-report, felt Ren You urgently tugging his sleeve. Translated on Hololonovels. Annoyed, he turned to scold him but followed his gaze back to the classroom.

The mask on Jiang Lin’s face began to expand, transforming into a translucent membrane that tightly enveloped his distorted body. Golden light intertwined with black threads, gradually reshaping the monstrous figure.

Within thirty seconds, the grotesque form of Jiang Lin had returned to his human teenage self.

Faced with the stunned and slightly fearful expressions of the onlookers, Lu Yao remained calm. “Question: what fundamentally distinguishes humans from animals?”

Silence.

Unfazed, Lu Yao continued, “Humans possess consciousness, subjective initiative, and the ability to create and use tools to fulfill their needs… Don’t tell me you’re all science students? Never studied politics?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

The group was left speechless, struggling to find a proper response.

Seeing them frozen in confusion, Lu Yao didn’t bother further. “Xiao Cai, Jiang Lin, let’s go set off some fireworks.”

…

At the West District Church, the security office quickly assembled a team upon receiving the report, preparing to head to the DIY workshop in the North District.

The summer evening sun cast a golden glow over the streets, though it wasn’t yet six o’clock. The sky was still bathed in orange and gray light.

“Whoosh—”

A single nightfall firework shot into the air, the descending dusk suddenly sweeping away the daylight.

Darkness fell abruptly, and passersby wandering aimlessly through the streets paused, confused, and glanced upward.

“Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—”

“Boom, boom, boom—”

Eyes widened in amazement.

In the pitch-black sky above, fireworks with long trailing tails exploded and didn’t simply vanish in an instant. They twirled and danced in the air, almost as if they had a will of their own.

At the church gates, the security squad preparing to leave spotted the dazzling display over the North District.

Suspended among the fireworks, glowing text began to form:

—Lu Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop is in full swing!

—Come experience the magic of handcrafted fireworks!

—Only two days left! Act now before it’s too late!

One of the security officers murmured, “What kind of bigshot just arrived here?”

His colleague’s expression darkened to an extreme. “Abilities like this aren’t the work of an ordinary person.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Customers?

Lu Yao could hardly believe it. She had assumed today would be a blank slate, but luck had arrived unexpectedly.

She hurriedly abandoned the unfinished flower materials on the table and jogged to the door.

Standing outside were a young man and woman, seemingly together.

The man greeted her cheerfully upon seeing her. “Boss, is this event really free?”

Lu Yao stepped aside to let them in. “Three days of trial operations, six free slots each day. Once they’re filled, you’ll need to pay to participate.”

Given the current situation, it was likely the free slots wouldn’t even be used up.

Lu Yao had set up this rule partly because she was tempted by the enticing street food in Ghost Street. During mealtimes, the delicious aroma that wafted through the streets was simply irresistible. She wanted to earn some money to indulge in it.

The man’s smile grew wider. “You’re straightforward, Boss. Alright, the two of us will sign up for the free activity.”

Lu Yao took out a registration book and had them complete a simple registration.

During the trial operation, to engage with more customers, each person could only participate in the free experience once.

She explained this to them, and after a moment of hesitation, they wrote down their names in the book.

Later, Lu Yao noticed they had both used pseudonyms, but it didn’t affect her records.

In a way, as long as the names were written down personally, they were valid in her system.

Once the customers completed their registration, the slot counter on the advertisement board at the door automatically updated to “4.”

Before taking them to the workshop, Lu Yao hung a sign on the door indicating they were in the adjacent classroom.

In the first workshop, customers Ah Jiang and Xiao Xing sat together, with the materials and tools for making fireworks spread before them.

Lu Yao stood at the demonstration table. “I assume neither of you has experience in this kind of crafting?”

The average person might have tried baking, origami, or weaving, or played with educational toys like Legos or puzzles.

But making fireworks—something that carried a bit of danger—required a certain level of expertise.

Ah Jiang picked up a glass bottle containing heavy metal raw materials and examined it with curiosity. “Boss, you must have some solid connections to get all this stuff.”

Lu Yao shook her head. “What connections? This little shop of ours is just at the level of a middle school chemistry lab—it’s all about the experience.”

Xiao Xing, a bit shy, spoke softly. “It’s the first shop like this in the North District. He must really favor you.”

Lu Yao mentally noted the implications of her words but kept things light. “No more small talk; let’s get started. Do you know why fireworks burst into so many colors?”

Ah Jiang played with a glass bottle in his hand, his carefree expression briefly flickering with something resembling nostalgia. “Flame tests. By mixing different heavy metals into the raw materials, you get various colored flames when they ignite.”

Xiao Xing added quietly, “Potassium purple, sodium yellow, lithium red, rubidium purple, copper green, barium yellow-green… Never thought I’d actually use this knowledge someday.”

Lu Yao nodded approvingly. “Solid basics. Before we officially begin, one last question: When was the last time you watched fireworks?”

Ah Jiang frowned, as though recalling a distant memory. “Four years ago.”

After arriving on Ghost Street, he had never seen fireworks again.

Xiao Xing furrowed her brows lightly, then gave the same answer.

It was during the New Year’s Eve holiday four years ago. They had been high school students, meeting at the square to watch the fireworks display together.

Since then, they had never gone home.

They had been brought to Ghost Street by Him, given new identities as residents of Ghost Street.

Here, they didn’t have to go to school, cram for exams, or worry about the future.

Because their identities were merely “guests,” every day felt like a task—wandering the streets of Ghost Street aimlessly.

Like ghosts.

Lu Yao: “Since it’s been so long, how about a preview before we start making fireworks?”

Lu Yao had no idea that for Ah Jiang and Xiao Xing, fireworks displays were tied to the most terrifying memories of their lives.

The fear was so overwhelming that merely imagining reliving that nightmare left them stiff and slow to react. By the time they shouted out “No!” in a panic, the workshop’s setting had already changed.

One moment, the brightly lit classroom was vibrant with light; the next, it was enveloped in the shadow of night.

Whoosh!

A firework shot into the sky, trailing a long, bright tail. It exploded with a thunderous boom, burned out, and vanished.

Ah Jiang and Xiao Xing froze. Their deep-seated fear momentarily replaced by confusion.

Weren’t we just in the workshop?

Why are we casually setting off fireworks indoors?

Where’s the ceiling? Won’t it explode?

What kind of shop is this?

No… what kind of person is this shop owner?

The people of Ghost Street had long accepted humanity’s insignificance—no one could ever defeat Him.

Whoosh—
Whoosh whoosh whoosh—
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh—

Fireworks filled the sky, their bursts echoing as they formed a massive, looming creature in the heavens. Sharp, thick claws, wings as vast and heavy as storm clouds, shimmering scales along its chest and belly.

“It’s a dragon!” Ah Jiang couldn’t help but exclaim.

Roar—ROAR ROAR ROAR!

The fiery dragon flapped its wings, letting out an earth-shaking roar akin to the thundering charge of ten thousand horses.

The next moment, the fireworks dissipated, leaving the night sky silent and starless.

Xiao Xing, still looking upward, muttered, “People are like fireworks—brief and fleeting.”

As soon as she finished speaking—Bang! Bang! Bang!—a new wave of fireworks shot skyward, this time forming an even larger, six-winged, three-headed golden dragon.

For five minutes, a cool breeze carried the scent of heavy smoke through the air.

Lu Yao heard Xiao Xing sneeze and promptly turned off the holographic projection device.

The fireworks display they had just seen was a hologram from last year’s Dragon Festival on Alexander Continent.

Most humans there revered dragons from birth. Since dragons adored anything shiny, yet most humans couldn’t afford to offer real treasures, they turned to crafting dazzling fireworks instead. Over time, fireworks became a staple of the Dragon Festival.

Every year, every city held fireworks displays during the festival. Thanks to magic, the patterns were endlessly creative.

Last year, Lu Yao, Harold, and Budu attended the festival and were utterly amazed.

She had found the ephemeral beauty of the fireworks fleeting and regrettable, so she had captured the data and turned it into a permanent holographic display.

As the workshop lights brightened, Ah Jiang and Xiao Xing turned to Lu Yao.

Lu Yao explained at the right moment, “This shop has special equipment that allows guests to immerse themselves in unique experiences.”

“Holograms,” Ah Jiang muttered. “But aren’t we already living in a holographic world created by Him?”

Xiao Xing interrupted, “It’s not the same.”

Ah Jiang lifted his gaze, fixing his eyes on Lu Yao. “You’ve created your own world within the world He made? Who… what are you?”

Lu Yao furrowed her brows, momentarily lost in their line of questioning.

Her understanding of this world was still far too shallow.

Lu Yao was still debating whether to confess or feign ignorance when sudden changes overtook Jiang Lin.

He clutched his head in agony, slipping off his chair and collapsing to the floor, as though his strength had been drained.

Cai Yuxing, terrified and panicked, dropped to her knees and shook him desperately. “Jiang Lin! Jiang Lin! Stop thinking!”

Jiang Lin slowly opened his eyes, his eyeballs protruding uncontrollably, pupils narrowing into vertical slits.

His face twisted grotesquely, like bark soaked in bitter yellow water. Translated on Hololonovels. Biting down hard on his tongue, he fought to stay conscious. “Cai… Yuxing… I’ve been caught. I’m… so… sorry… Run!”

Cai Yuxing sobbed uncontrollably, shaking her head.

Since arriving at Ghost Street four years ago, they had never been apart.

In this world full of traps and monsters, they had anchored each other’s hearts and survived countless desperate situations.

For four years, they had remained constantly vigilant, never relaxing for even a moment. Yet their path remained shrouded in darkness, offering no hope. Deep down, they had always known this day would come.

Cai Yuxing had thought she would be the one to go first.

Jiang Lin’s pupils began to lose focus, his limbs collapsing bonelessly onto the floor.

Lu Yao’s mind raced as she processed the situation. Summoning her Regulation Rod, she moved swiftly.

With the blade of the staff, she gently tapped Jiang Lin’s grotesque, distorted face. Her voice was calm and soft: “Jiang Lin, look at me.”

The massive pupils in his eyes turned slowly, as if trying to comprehend her words.

Lu Yao pressed the blade down harder, puncturing a hole in Jiang Lin’s increasingly smooth and slimy skin. He let out a scream of pain.

Cai Yuxing, who had been sobbing moments earlier, froze in shock.

Lu Yao: “What’s one plus one?”

It took a long time, but the mutated Jiang Lin eventually croaked out, “Two?”

Lu Yao nodded. “Correct. Do you still remember the mnemonic your chemistry teacher taught for flame tests?”

Jiang Lin was silent even longer, several minutes passing before he haltingly recited two fragments of a mnemonic.

Lu Yao: “Good. Now… do you remember what humans look like?”

Jiang Lin instinctively flopped his limp arm. “Humans… humans…”

Lu Yao’s voice remained steady: “Humans have two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth. Most importantly, humans have two hands and two legs, not soft, floppy, twisted tentacles… Does that ring a bell?”

Jiang Lin remained silent.

Lu Yao: “Do you remember what we were doing just now? Preparing to make fireworks?”

Jiang Lin’s eyes shifted slightly. After a moment, he gave a slow nod.

Lu Yao sighed inwardly, realizing there was no avoiding the next step. She steeled herself, her tone earnest. “Fireworks are a gift for the great Omniscient God. I sincerely ask for your help in completing them.”

Jiang Lin’s bulging eyes, filled with sorrow, stared at Lu Yao. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded with great difficulty.

And in that instant, the mutation spreading across Jiang Lin’s body stopped.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

In the second month, when spring thunder stirs the earth—
it was the day of Jingzhe.

That morning, after many days of cold rain, the sky suddenly cleared.

Xiao Yuanbao rose early, pleased by the sunshine, and ate a full bowl of porridge with an easy appetite.

Not long after, though, he felt something amiss. A sudden heaviness pressed low in his belly.

Startled, he grabbed Qi Beinan’s hand, his delicate brows tightening together.

“I think—it’s today. My belly hurts.”

“What?”

Qi Beinan froze for half a heartbeat, then moved at once, sweeping Xiao Yuanbao up into his arms and carrying him straight to the birthing room.

As he walked, he kept his voice steady. “Don’t be afraid. Everything’s prepared. Just breathe and keep calm. The physicians all said your health is strong—you’ll deliver safely.”

Sweat soon beaded on Xiao Yuanbao’s brow. It was his first childbirth; no matter how much he had prepared, fear still rose when the moment came. The pain made his heart race faster.

Sensing something wrong, Xiao Hu immediately sent servants running to fetch Bai Qiaogui.

Qin Jiang dashed out like the wind, while Jiang Fulang arranged for the midwife and attendants to prepare inside, urging the kitchen to boil water without delay.

The midwife, who had been staying in the household since the New Year, hurried in with the birthing assistant.

They had gone through such alarm once before—when false pains came and passed—but this time, the tension was real. The household dared not relax; every heart was caught in the throat.

“Sir, your husband truly is in labor now. You shouldn’t remain inside—please, step out.”

The birthing attendant, seasoned from long experience, checked Xiao Yuanbao and knew the time had come.

But turning back, she found Qi Beinan still gripping Xiao Yuanbao’s hand beside the bed, unwilling to let go, and had to urge him again to leave.

Qi Beinan could hardly bear it. Just that morning, Yuanbao had been smiling, full of life—and now he lay sweating, body twisting in pain.

He knew it must hurt terribly. His own heart felt pierced with needles. Still, he refused to loosen his grasp.

“I’ll be all right,” Yuanbao said between breaths. “Go on. I promise—I’ll give you a beautiful, healthy child.”

He himself was trembling, but seeing how pale and stricken Qi Beinan looked, he found the strength to soothe him instead.

“Go out, quickly. If you stay here, I can’t concentrate.”

“Then I’ll wait right outside the door—just there. If anything happens, call me at once.” Qi Beinan’s voice broke. “Xiaobao, all I want is for you to be safe.”

He repeated the words several times, before finally, urged by the midwife, he forced himself to back out—looking over his shoulder again and again.

Jiang Fulang stayed close, able to go in and out to check.

Qi Beinan and Xiao Hu, however, could only wait. One stood by the door, the other paced the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back.

When cries of pain came from within, both men flinched as if burned.

Bai Qiaogui arrived panting, just as the servants were carrying in hot water.

“Please—go see him!”

The moment Qi Beinan saw her, he rushed forward, desperate. “He sounds in such pain—what if something’s wrong?”

Bai Qiaogui glanced at his furrowed brow, so tight it could crush a fly. Even in the chill of February, sweat shone on his temples.

The man usually so composed now looked utterly undone. She remembered his mother had died giving birth, and so chose her words carefully, avoiding anything that might worsen his dread. Translated on Hololo novels.

“Lord Qi, don’t worry. Bao-ge’er will deliver safely. Every birth brings pain—it’s natural. I’ll watch over him myself.”

Qi Beinan nodded quickly.

Time blurred after that. Bowls of clear water went in, and red-stained ones came out.

No one knew how long the hours dragged; by the time the sun began to set, the courtyard had gathered five or six anxious onlookers.

Ming Guanxin, newly arrived in the capital, came soon after Bai Qiaogui, followed by Gu Yanshu.

Morning turned to afternoon. None outside had the heart to eat—only cup after cup of tea, cooling in their hands as they waited.

At last, as dusk fell, a clear infant’s cry rang from within the room.

The sound cut through the long silence like light through clouds.

Qi Beinan’s whole body went weak; after so many hours of fear, relief nearly made him collapse.

“Was that—was that the baby? He’s born?”

Ming Guanxin, flustered, echoed him, but before anyone could answer, Qi Beinan had already shot through the doorway like an arrow.

“It’s done—it’s done! Both husband and child are safe!”

The midwife emerged beaming, announcing the words everyone had prayed for.

At last, the household’s hearts settled.

“Congratulations, Uncle Xiao,” Ming Guanxin and Gu Yanshu said together, bowing to Xiao Hu before hurrying toward the birthing room. “Our Bao-ge’er is remarkable—four hours and the child’s safely born!”

Inside, Qi Beinan was already kneeling by the bedside.

Xiao Yuanbao lay pale and utterly spent, his hair damp with sweat and plastered to his cheeks, his face drained of all color.

Qi Beinan bent over him, pressing his face against his shoulder, holding back the sting of tears that welled despite himself.

When he finally lifted his head again, his voice was hoarse.

“You’ve suffered enough.”

Seeing the look of raw relief on Qi Beinan’s face, Xiao Yuanbao reached up with trembling fingers to touch his cheek. His strength was nearly gone; even his voice came faint and slow.

“Look at you… all in a panic. Go on, see the child. I want to see him too.”

At once, Qi Beinan went to fetch the small bundle already wrapped in soft swaddling cloth.

The newborn, who had cried heartily just moments before, was quiet now.

Qi Beinan held the tiny, warm body with the utmost care and carried him to the bedside. “It’s a boy.”

“A boy?”

Xiao Yuanbao was taken aback. He gazed at the little creature nestled in the blankets—skin as tender as new flesh, lips slightly parted, eyes still closed.

His heart melted. He turned his face close to the baby’s downy quilt. “All through the pregnancy he was so calm and gentle. I thought for sure it was a quiet little daughter or son-girl. Never imagined it’d be a boy.”

“So long as he’s close to his xiao die’s heart, he’s a good child,” Qi Beinan said with a smile. “He’s born on a fine day—how about calling him Jingzhe?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “Good.”

The attendants, who had been holding back so as not to intrude, stepped forward now, all smiles and laughter. After half a day’s waiting, the household was finally filled with joy.

“Bao-ge’er, you’re amazing—what a lovely little one you’ve brought into the world!”

“Come now, let me hold him too! I need to borrow some of that baby luck…”

Ming Guanxin and Gu Yanshu took turns fussing over the infant, while Bai Qiaogui, exhausted after hours of strain, finally sat down and drank three cups of tea in a row.

Jiang Fulang rewarded the midwives and attendants with heavy red envelopes for their work.

Xiao Hu, after checking that Yuanbao was safe, had been itching to hold the baby as well. Several times he reached out, but others got there first. Finally he stood up and said, half laughing, “Let Ahzu have a turn!”

The remark set the whole room laughing—Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao among them.

Amid the cheerful bustle, Xiao Yuanbao turned his head toward the window.

In the garden, the magnolia tree was in bloom again. In the early spring of the second month it was all soft pink and lavender, radiant in the sun. By May the petals would fall, giving way to green leaves; by midsummer it would stand thick and full once more.

Year after year, the same cycle repeated—quietly, endlessly.

And yet, looking closer, the trunk that had once been thin as a wrist was now sturdy as a child’s leg.

“Xiao Die,” a small voice piped beside him, “the tree’s grown big enough to climb!”

“The tree has,” Yuanbao said with a smile. “But have you grown?”

“I have! I’m almost up to your waist already!”

Under the flowering tree stood a bright-eyed boy, explaining himself with solemn seriousness.

Yuanbao couldn’t win an argument with him. He reached out and pinched the soft round cheeks of his little son. “Qi Jingzhe, you rascal—just wait till your father’s off duty. I’ll tell on you!”

“I’m not being naughty,” the boy protested, holding up a small bird’s nest. “This is the prettiest tree in the garden, so I want the hurt bird to live here. Then it’ll get better faster.”

Yuanbao leaned in to look. Inside the nest was a tiny bird, eyes bright as beads, its wing bent awkwardly. He stroked its feathers—they were fine and smooth as silk. “Where did it come from?”

“It flew to the study window while I was practicing writing.”

Yuanbao tapped his son’s nose and took the nest, meaning to set it on a branch, but even on tiptoe he couldn’t quite reach.

Seeing this, little Jingzhe hurried to the trunk, crouched down, and patted his own back. “Step on me, Xiao Die.”

Yuanbao burst out laughing. “If I step on you and your Ahzu sees it, he’ll scold me half to death!”

He pulled the boy upright and took his hand. “We’ll wait till your father’s home—he can do it. He’s been gone in the southwest long enough. Once he’s back, we’ll make him do all our chores.”

“When will he be home today? I miss him.”

At that, Yuanbao also glanced toward the courtyard. “Probably not yet for a few hours—it’s still morning court.”

He took his four-year-old’s hand and led him back inside. “The sun’s strong already; let’s not stay out and catch the heat. Come inside and have a piece of cold melon.”

“Another summer come and gone,” he murmured as they walked. “Hard to believe—it’s already the thirty-fifth year of Kaide…”

Meanwhile, under the blazing light pouring through the palace gates, morning court had just ended.

Officials filed out of the great hall in neat procession. Their layered robes, heavy and stifling, clung to their backs with sweat as the air grew warm.

But spirits were light: after four long years, the cleanup of the southeastern salt smuggling was at last complete. The work had been done cleanly, His Majesty was pleased, and though few had been promoted, the emperor’s good mood was reward enough.

Pairs and trios of officials murmured among themselves—whether to go to Anhua Lou for the new-season fruit, or to Hantian Pavilion for chilled wine and ice.

Before they could decide, a brisk figure passed them by, the motion stirring a faint breeze.

“Lord Qi looks radiant today—so that’s what true success must feel like!”

“He worked with the duke to bring the private salt case to a clean resolution. Not only did the duke himself recommend him, even His Majesty spoke highly of his conduct. Now he has been promoted from the Hanlin Academy to the Ministry of Personnel as Vice Minister—barely past thirty.”

“Boundless prospects indeed! If even now his face isn’t bright with spring cheer, then I truly don’t know what kind of honor could please him.”

After leaving the palace, Qi Beinan stepped straight into the waiting carriage. “Home,” he told the driver.

“Yes, my lord.”

The carriage rolled smoothly through the city streets, turning into the familiar lane before long. Lifting the curtain, Qi Beinan caught sight of the courtyard ahead.

“Father!”

A small head popped up, peering eagerly toward him.

Before Xiao Yuanbao could stop him, their son had already bolted across the courtyard, and he could only call out after him, “Slow down—watch your step!”

Qi Beinan climbed down from the carriage just in time to catch the little boy flinging himself into his arms.

He lifted him high, turning to Xiao Yuanbao, who was coming over with a smile. “Have you been waiting long?”

“It’s Jingzhe who insisted on waiting. I was just about to nap.”

Qi Beinan kissed his son’s cheek. “So it’s my little Jingzhe who knows how to love his father. Your xiao die doesn’t care about me at all, isn’t that so?”

Jingzhe shook his head solemnly. “Xiao die does care about you! I wanted three pieces of cold melon and he wouldn’t let me—he said he had to save them for you. All morning xiao die’s been talking about you, lots and lots!”

“How many times exactly?”

The boy spread both hands. “Ten times!”

Qi Beinan laughed. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

Xiao Yuanbao watched them with a quiet smile. “How was court today?”

“I was promoted,” Qi Beinan said. “From now on, I’m Vice Minister of Personnel.”

He squeezed Xiao Yuanbao’s hand. “This time, I should be able to stay in the capital for a while.”

That made Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes light with joy. “And how is it you came home so early? The duke helped you so much—shouldn’t you go thank him?”

“No rush. He’s holding a banquet in a few days; we’ll go together as a family. After so many years dealing with the southwest, His Majesty granted a few days’ leave. I can finally rest.”

Talking and laughing, they entered the house and shared a comfortable lunch together.

After eating, little Jingzhe grew drowsy, and the two of them put him to bed.

The afternoon sun glowed bright and warm.

In the small garden, banana leaves stood broad and green against the wall, and twin rows of bamboo cast mottled shadows across the ground.

Qi Beinan sat beside the reclining chair where Xiao Yuanbao rested, fanning him slowly.

“I’ve five full days of leave,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you and Jingzhe to Little Dragon Hill for some cool air. We can stay two days.”

“That would be nice. Jingzhe’s been wanting to go out. He’s still talking about the time you took him to the country estate to catch rice fish last year.”

“The weather’s hot,” Qi Beinan said. “Let him play in the stream—catching fish and shrimp will be just right. The water up the mountain is cool and clear.”

“Then I’ll listen to you.”

Xiao Yuanbao gazed at the vivid green of summer, feeling utterly at peace.

He laid a hand on his belly, smiling softly. “There’s something else I ought to tell you.”

Qi Beinan paused, lowering the fan, curious. “What is it?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s voice was quiet. “I’m expecting again.”

The fan slipped from Qi Beinan’s hand and hit the ground. “Truly?”

Seeing his astonished face, Xiao Yuanbao gave him a sidelong look. “Sister Gui took my pulse—how could it be false?”

Qi Beinan broke into a laugh, his eyes gleaming. For a moment he could only stare at him, then he threw back his head and laughed outright.

“My little Bao, how can you be so good to me? This news makes me happier than any promotion ever could!”

Xiao Yuanbao chuckled. “You’re already a father once. Still so excitable.”

Sunlight shimmered through the leaves; the air was gentle with breeze and birdsong, their shadows swaying softly together.

Such an afternoon—such a life—one could live it forever and never tire of it.

—End of Main Story—

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Xiao Yuanbao looked up and saw a man standing just beyond the hall—his figure wrapped in a dark cloak, the fabric dusted with snow.

Tall and straight as a pine, Qi Beinan seemed to have weathered a long wind and frost. He had grown thinner, his once sharply handsome face now leaner, the bones beneath his skin more defined. A faint stubble shadowed his jaw, and dark circles marked the skin beneath his eyes.

Yet in those calm, deep eyes shone a warmth mixed with ache.

“Anan…”

The name caught in Xiao Yuanbao’s throat; his voice trembled. The next instant, his blood seemed to surge all at once. Bracing a hand on his back, he tried to rise and go to him.

But Qi Beinan had already crossed the threshold in haste, reaching him first and steadying his slow, unsteady steps.

He had ridden day and night, almost without pause, through snow and wind. The capital was blanketed in white, the roads near impassable. Yet from the distant slopes outside the city, when he saw the bright glow of the festival and heard faint sounds of revelry, the pull of home only grew stronger—and so he had pressed on, arriving just in time for the reunion meal.

He was chilled to the bone and knew he must look travel-worn and rough. Translated on Hololo novels. Those who knew the truth would say he had returned from a successful mission inspecting the salt trade; those who didn’t might think he had come back from defeat, ragged and dispirited.

He had meant to return with composure—to wash and change before seeing Xiao Yuanbao. But as soon as he stepped through the gates, the thought of the one he’d longed for all these months overtook him. He could not wait even a quarter of an hour longer. He went straight to the hall.

There, in the soft amber light of the lamps, he saw Xiao Yuanbao sitting quietly, murmuring to the child in his belly—speaking of him.

When he left, Yuanbao had been slender and light. Now his belly was round and full. A child did not grow to eight months in a day, yet this was the first time Qi Beinan had seen him since learning the news—and already the baby was nearly due.

A thousand emotions welled up within him. Gratitude. Guilt. Relief.

At least he had made it home. To miss the new year with his spouse and child would have felt like failing both husband’s and father’s duty.

Xiao Yuanbao clasped Qi Beinan’s hand, his gaze never leaving him. The once-smooth hands were now cold, rough, the palms thick with calluses.

“Why didn’t you send word you were coming? I could have gone out to meet you.”

Seeing how weary and worn he looked, Yuanbao’s heart ached. His voice softened with distress.

“I thought I wouldn’t be back until after the new year,” Qi Beinan said, his tone gentle. “But the final audits ended sooner than expected, and His Grace allowed me to return early. A letter would never have reached you faster—and I wanted to surprise you and the baby.”

He smiled faintly. “It seems I made it back just in time.”

At that, Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes grew red. “You’ve lost weight.”

“It’s nothing,” Qi Beinan reassured him. “The food in Yuanping didn’t suit me, and I ate little. Then the long ride home through wind and snow—traveling with a troop of men, there’s little care for appearance. That’s all.”

He released Yuanbao gently. “I’m still cold from the road, carrying half the winter with me. I daren’t hold you long. If the chill passes to you or the baby, that would be no good.”

He smiled, trying to ease the moment. “Let me wash and change before I see Father. I can’t have him look at me in this state.”

Yuanbao laughed softly. “He’s seen you looking worse. You’re not afraid I’ll see you like this, but you’re worried about him?”

“A son-in-law should at least look respectable,” Qi Beinan said, feigning solemnity.

Yuanbao could tell he was teasing—mostly to hide his exhaustion and the cold still clinging to his skin.

“Go back to your room,” he said gently. “I’ll tell the kitchen to bring you hot water.”

“Good.”

Qi Beinan bent to kiss his flushed cheek, then strode off toward Xingyi Pavilion.

“He’s back!” Yuanbao called out as he turned toward the kitchen.

The household stirred at once. He told Xiao Hu and Jiang Fulang that Qi Beinan had returned. Both were overjoyed.

Jiang Fulang, busy at the stove, said, “I’ll make two of his favorite dishes. Luckily we have plenty prepared—it won’t take long.”

Xiao Hu grinned. “Now the evening’s perfect. I’ll finally have someone to drink with.”

Yuanbao smiled and reminded the servants to add slices of old ginger to the bathwater to drive out the chill.

That night, what was meant to be a three-person reunion dinner became a true family gathering.

It was strange—adding just one person made the whole house feel warmer. Laughter filled the rooms, and the spirit of the festival seemed to glow brighter.

Two tables were set: one in the main hall for the family, and another in the servants’ quarters.

Once all the dishes were arranged, Yuanbao sent the servants off to enjoy their own New Year’s meal. Before they left, he handed out red envelopes. Hongtang, Wenge’er, and the others bowed gratefully before hurrying off, smiling.

Only the family remained at the table.

“Father,” Qi Beinan said with a smile, helping Yuanbao sit beside him before turning to pour wine for Xiao Hu, “now that you’re settled here in the capital, don’t be thinking of leaving the moment you see me home again.”

Xiao Hu chuckled. “Not this time. I’ll stay in the capital and teach my little grandson how to shoot an arrow.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed lightly. “Girls and boys both need to learn archery now?”

Xiao Hu replied, “All the better if they’re strong and healthy. I won’t have them growing up frail like you did.”

“The manor back home—Tian Ken is still managing it?”

Qi Beinan was reassured by Xiao Hu’s tone; it was clear he meant to remain in the capital for good.

“Yes,” Xiao Hu said. “That lad is a real hand at farming. He’s done much for our family over the years, and he runs the estate like a master. When he married, as you two wished, we gave him his deed of freedom—let him decide whether to stay or go.

“But he said his father was buried in Ling County, and that he owed our family kindness. He wouldn’t leave. Said he meant to serve us for life. Seeing his loyalty, I let him be. Lucky we did—had he gone, I’d not know who could have managed the estate after I came to the capital.”

“Now with him and his wife keeping watch, I’ve nothing to worry about.”

Qi Beinan smiled. Much of what they had built over the years was thanks to capable people like Tian Ken. Men of such talent were rare; great households would never so easily set them free.

Yet Qi Beinan had long felt that Tian Ken had given too much to their family already. A man of ability should not live and die as another’s servant, nor have his children born into bondage. So, after discussing it with Xiao Yuanbao, he had granted Tian Ken his freedom at his wedding.

That the man chose to remain in service was repayment beyond expectation.

“I heard he even had a fine, plump boy last year.”

“Indeed,” Xiao Hu said, smiling. “A sturdy little rascal—strong as an ox, crawling everywhere the moment he learned to move. One day his mother turned her back for a blink, and he wriggled right under the bed, fell asleep there without a sound. Took them ages to find him.”

When there was nothing to do on the estate, Xiao Hu liked to play with the child, always bringing him soft cakes. Seeing other people’s grandchildren only made him long for the day he’d have a little grandson of his own.

So when he received Yuanbao’s letter about the pregnancy, he’d packed up at once and come to the capital—faster even than when he’d rushed up for their wedding.

Xiao Yuanbao took a bite of the fish Qi Beinan had picked clean of bones for him and smiled. “You weren’t here to know, but later that year Brother Fang wrote too. They’ve had a second child—a boy. The whole family was overjoyed.”

Qi Beinan raised his brows. “He married late, but he’s made quick work of it. Two children already?”

“Exactly. Second Sister married before him and only has one child. Third Brother too—just one.”

“The Fang family was lively enough before,” Yuanbao went on, “but now that Old Master Fang and Madam Sun have both grandsons and granddaughters—well, it’s a merry house indeed.”

Xiao Hu chuckled. “When Fang Youliang’s second son had his full-month banquet, I went into town for the feast. All those children gathered round—one wanting water, one wanting sweets—poor old Fang sat in the middle of the din, surrounded by the lot of them, near driven mad. I’d have fled if I could’ve stood.”

The table burst into laughter.

“How’s their business now?” Qi Beinan asked.

“Good,” Xiao Hu said. “Fang Youliang’s a capable one. He’s built a fine network in town and beyond. Though, truth told, he’s gotten fonder of drink—his wife’s the only one who can rein him in, tugging him home by the ear. Her family’s tofu shop has doubled in size; they even hired two more hands. When I pass that way, they always recognize me and stuff tofu into my basket, won’t take a coin for it.”

“Second Sister and her husband’s rouge shop is thriving too,” Xiao Yuanbao added. “They’re planning to open a second branch this year. Both of them clever and hardworking—but with only one daughter so far, the elders keep urging them to have another or two while they’re young.”

“As for Third Brother,” Xiao Hu said, “they’re not in trade, but his wife’s family are ambitious folk. They’ve come to buy fertilizer from our estate more than once, hearing our crops were good.”

Qi Beinan listened with quiet pleasure. Hearing that everyone back home was well brought him comfort.

He refilled Xiao Hu’s cup, smiling. “Father, you used to be the quiet one—never knew a thing about the village gossip. Now you seem to know every family’s story by heart.”

“Ha,” Xiao Hu said, taking a drink. “Since I’ve stopped going up the hills, the neighbors come to me for wine. After enough rounds of that, what’s left to learn?”

“More likely my brother told you over drinks,” Jiang Fulang said, smiling. “And he and his wife—are they getting on well in the village?”

“Getting on? Of course,” Xiao Hu replied. “The village head’s as sharp as ever—used to keep things in fine order, and now with Guangzong doing so well in Jinling, with a powerful father-in-law to boot—those two have status and ability both. Their life’s as good as it gets.”

Jiang Fulang chuckled.

Xiao Yuanbao, seeing his teacher in good spirits, said, “The other day, Third Brother Zhao sent over New Year’s goods. He wrote in his letter that Teacher mustn’t play favorites—said that once Atuan’s expecting, we’ll have to send for you again to take care of her, just as you’ve looked after me.”

Jiang Fulang, though delighted, sighed with mock complaint. “One after another—are you all set on working me to death?”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed softly, picked up a morsel of food, and placed it in Jiang Fulang’s bowl. “Teacher, you’ve worked hard enough. When Atuan becomes pregnant, once I’ve finished my confinement, I’ll go with you to Jinling to visit her. She still complains I didn’t go to her wedding.”

Jiang Fulang smiled. “That would be best.”

Once they had begun reminiscing about family and friends, more memories rose to mind. Xiao Yuanbao took Qi Beinan’s hand. “Anan, did you hear? Scholar Ma finally passed the provincial exam.”

Qi Beinan set down his cup. “I remember mentioning him during the last round of exams, but afterward I was buried in the salt bureau’s affairs and never had time to ask. Truly, I hadn’t heard.”

“Before Mid-Autumn I received a letter from Xin-ge’er. He told me Ma-juren did well—his ranking was quite high. After three years’ pause, he’s improved greatly.

“And Xin-ge’er himself is coming to the capital. He’s proven quite the merchant. Somehow he managed to persuade the weaver who makes Wanyue gauze to work under him. At the start of the new year he’ll open a silk shop here in the city, right as Ma-juren arrives for the metropolitan exam.”

Qi Beinan raised his brows. “Remarkable indeed. Then by next spring, you, Sister Gui, and Xin-ge’er will all be together again.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled with delight. “Exactly.”

So many pieces of good news—such letters had been his only comfort during those long months away in Yuanping.

The reunion feast stretched on happily for more than an hour. Afterward they went out to the garden to set off firecrackers.

Qi Beinan, who was never one for such amusements, surprised them all by lighting a few himself.

They played for a while in the garden before the family, knowing how long the couple had been apart, urged them to return early to their rooms to rest and talk in peace.

Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan walked back together to Xingyi Pavilion.

“I thought the salt investigation would take longer,” Xiao Yuanbao said after a while, cheeks flushed as Qi Beinan held his hand.

Though his husband’s hands were warm again, he could not forget how cold they had been earlier.

“Once I slowed down, my thoughts only wandered to you and the child,” Qi Beinan said quietly. “The worry made me restless, so I threw myself fully into work instead. Strangely enough, that made everything move faster.”

“You worked yourself thin,” Xiao Yuanbao said, touching his face with a hint of distress. “Teacher whispered earlier that you look more weathered.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Not weathered—just becoming a father. That alone adds years.”

He caught Xiao Yuanbao’s hand and said playfully, “Let me see if our little xiaodie looks older yet.”

“I’m not even that old! I’m still—ah!”

Before he could finish, Qi Beinan swept him up in his arms.

Xiao Yuanbao widened his eyes. “And they say fathers-to-be should be steady! Look at you.”

Qi Beinan only laughed, spinning them gently around the room. “How could I not be happy? I’m going to be a father! Our Qi family and Xiao family will have a child!”

Xiao Yuanbao clung to his neck, meaning to scold him and make him put him down—but seeing the pure joy on his face, he couldn’t help smiling too.

This long-delayed joy seemed at last to make up for all that had been missed.

When their laughter finally subsided, Qi Beinan set him carefully on the bed.

He wrapped an arm around Yuanbao and with the other hand gently stroked the curve of his belly. Their heads rested close together.

“You can’t know how frantic I was when I read your letter,” Qi Beinan said softly. “So happy that we’d have a child—and so frustrated it came at such an inconvenient time. In Yuanping, no matter how busy I stayed, my heart never stopped worrying for you and the baby.”

“Everything’s been well looked after,” Yuanbao murmured, placing his hand atop Qi Beinan’s. “See? All is fine now. Sister Gui checks my pulse often—she says this pregnancy is strong and steady, nothing to fear. Though lately this little one’s been livelier, perhaps knowing you were on your way home—always kicking.”

“Then he must have felt his father drawing near,” Qi Beinan said with a smile. “Happy because you were happy.”

Yuanbao laughed, nestling closer against his neck. “Tell me, do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Our child—whatever comes, it’s good. I’ll welcome either with the same heart.”

He kissed Yuanbao lightly. “Son or daughter, I’ll raise them well.”

“Father says the same,” Yuanbao replied. “He says boy or girl, he’ll love them all the same. He only hopes we’ll have two or more so the house will be lively.”

“I’d like that too,” Qi Beinan said. “A full house of laughter. But seeing how hard it is for you—pregnancy, all its discomforts—how could I wish that burden on you too often? I’ve heard women weep easily, feel ill and fragile. When I was gone, did you ever cry alone?”

Yuanbao laughed. “I don’t think so. With this first child I’ve been fine—barely any sickness, and certainly no tears. Though today, when you walked in looking so thin and worn by the road, I almost did.”

Qi Beinan sighed softly. “Then it’s good I came home when I did.”

“Don’t say it like that. Seeing you like this—travel-stained, thinner than before—while I’ve been resting, eating well, and treated like royalty by Father and Teacher—I only felt guilty, not proud.”

“If you’re well, that’s all that matters,” Qi Beinan said. “Had you not been, I truly would have wasted away.”

Xiao Yuanbao brushed a kiss across his brow. “Even if you look a little older, you’re still just as handsome—and I’ll never stop liking you.”

They spoke on in low voices, trading every little story from the six months they’d been apart, as though trying to fill the missing time between them.

Outside, snow whispered against the windows. Across the capital, lanterns glowed, and fireworks crackled long into the night.

In Qi Beinan’s arms, Xiao Yuanbao drifted to sleep, warm and safe.

That night was the warmest of the whole winter—peaceful, steady, and filled with quiet joy.

Qi Beinan touched the tip of his nose and murmured, “May every year be like this—may we always stay side by side.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

In early September, the air was thick with the scent of blooming osmanthus.

Qi Beinan and his party had been in Yuanping for over a month.

“It feels like another round of the provincial exams,” he thought. “Next spring will bring the metropolitan exam, and after the palace examination, more new officials will enter the court.”

At midday, returning from the salt administration office, Qi Beinan stepped into his quarters and was immediately greeted by a heady fragrance. Overnight, the osmanthus tree by the veranda had burst fully into bloom.

Clusters of small golden blossoms filled the branches. He paused beneath them, smiling faintly, and his thoughts drifted to the old days of the provincial examinations—to the classmates who would be taking the test again this year.

Earlier that spring, he had received a letter from Ma Junyi, saying he intended to try once more. The results must have been announced by now, though news from other provinces was hard to come by. Qi Beinan found himself hoping Ma Junyi had done well this time.

“Sir, the tea is ready.”

Hearing the servant’s voice, Qi Beinan turned from the tree and went inside.

He had spent the entire morning reviewing ledgers; his eyes ached with fatigue. A cup of tea and a short rest would do him good.

Back home, Xiao Yuanbao had always made him herbal soups to soothe the eyes. Thanks to that care, his vision had been sharp and clear. But after only a few weeks in Yuanping—staring day after day at mountainous piles of accounts—his sight had begun to blur.

He had wanted to work quickly, to finish the salt investigation sooner: partly to return home earlier, partly to see the corrupt officials punished without delay. But at this pace, he knew he would soon exhaust himself. Better, perhaps, to proceed steadily.

He was just thinking this when Qin Jiang came running in from outside. “My lord, a letter from the capital!”

At that, Qi Beinan set down his cup and rose at once. “At last! I’ve been waiting for days. A letter from home.”

He tore it open eagerly and sat down to read.

It was five or six pages long—he didn’t mind. He read it slowly, savoring each word.

It began with small household details—everything at home was well, everyone missed him and kept him company in his absence. Xiao Yuanbao had been busy managing the restaurant, and the days, he wrote, passed quickly enough.

Qi Beinan smiled as he read. But when he reached the third page, his expression suddenly changed.

He shot to his feet.

“The earlier pages were all trifles,” the letter read, “but there is one important matter to tell you. Before I say it, let me warn you not to worry—this is happy news.

“What you and I have long hoped for has finally come true. By the time you finish your duties in Yuanping and return to the capital, our home will have one more member. To tell you plainly: I am with child.

“I imagine when you read this, your first reaction will not be joy, but worry. So let me assure you—you should only be glad. By the time this letter reaches you, Father has already arrived in the capital, and Teacher has moved back into the house to look after me.

“I am well cared for each day. The tonics and decoctions are taken as prescribed, and the baby is quiet and well-behaved…”

Qi Beinan read on, the tightness in his chest slowly easing.

He gripped the letter hard between his fingers, a rush of emotion swelling through him.

What ill timing, he thought bitterly—and yet Yuanbao was right. If he had known earlier, he never would have come to the southwest.

Such is fate.

Though the letter described everything as well arranged—his father in residence, his teacher watching over Yuanbao, the household secure—his heart could not rest entirely.

After losing a child once before, that shadow never truly faded.

Now, hearing that he was to be a father again, any thought of rest fled him. The cautious plan to proceed “steadily” with the salt investigation vanished.

All he wanted was to sprout wings and fly back to the capital.

But he was already in Yuanping, and leaving midway was impossible.

Knowing that, he resolved to finish the work as swiftly as he could, then return home at once.

Fortunately, he had handled a salt case before, and the experience made everything move more smoothly.

Qi Beinan steadied himself and plunged back into the work—harder than before, driven by urgency and longing.

“Always diligent, but now even more tireless,” remarked the Duke Jingguo, watching him clear box after box of tangled accounts with astonishing speed.

He couldn’t help but praise the man’s ability when he later spoke with Lin Qingyu.

“Lord Qi has always been exceptional,” Lin Qingyu said simply.

The Duke’s eyes held clear admiration. Soon after, he assigned Qi Beinan to join him on the salt inspection tours rather than remain buried in ledgers at the office.

Free from deskwork and out in the field, Qi Beinan was in his element.

Working side by side with the Duke, he rooted out illegal salt traders and exposed the officials in league with them.

Step by step, the entire investigation unfolded in rapid succession.

In less than half a year, the Yuanping salt case was nearing its conclusion.

Of course, the corruption in the greater southwest could not be eradicated in a few months.

But the Duke’s commission extended only to the prefecture of Lianping; once that was done, he could return to the capital to report. Whether he would then be sent to continue the work elsewhere remained to be seen.

This time, everything progressed so smoothly that even if the investigation did not immediately extend to other southwestern prefectures, it would still shake the corrupt and force them into restraint.

“You truly are a man of talent,” said the Duke Jingguo with satisfaction. “I was right to recommend you for the salt affairs in the southwest.”

He was genuinely pleased, unreserved in his praise. “Once we return to the capital, I shall personally report your merits to His Majesty.”

“If not for your favor, my lord,” Qi Beinan replied, “how could I have gained such a chance to serve the people? I ask for nothing else—only that I might complete this work before the year’s end and return home in time to celebrate the new year with my family.”

The Duke laughed. “I knew you were a man with a heart for home. Half a year away already, and with the year’s end approaching—the cold air and the scent of the festivals do stir one’s longing for home. If we can conclude the last of this business swiftly, I shall see your wish fulfilled.”

Qi Beinan bowed. “I am deeply grateful for your consideration, my lord.”

Meanwhile, in the capital—

“The winters here in the capital are truly bitter. Once the snow starts, it falls for days and days. Step outside, and all you see is white—nothing else at all.”

Xiao Hu came in from outdoors shivering, muttering about how cold it was.

“Father, you refuse to take a carriage, fine—but why didn’t you at least bring an umbrella?”

Xiao Yuanbao looked up to see his father’s hair and shoulders covered in snow. He couldn’t help scolding gently as he rose from beside the brazier to brush the snow off him.

“You won’t sit inside with me, and when you go out, you don’t even take care of yourself.”

Jiang Fulang, who was sewing nearby, stood quickly and pressed Xiao Yuanbao back into his seat. “Sit properly. You’re heavy with child now—you can’t be moving around like before when you were alone.”

Jiang Fulang watched over him constantly, treating him like his own younger brother. Now that Yuanbao was expecting, he guarded him even more carefully.

Xiao Hu laughed, shaking the snow from his coat. “It’s not that I didn’t want to keep you company. I went out to buy you a treat.”

From inside his robe, he brought out a paper bag of freshly roasted chestnuts and handed it to Xiao Yuanbao.

“I didn’t go far,” he said, “but the snow came down harder than I thought—like a summer downpour. I only stopped a street vendor for some chestnuts, and just look at me now.”

Xiao Yuanbao took them eagerly, peeling one open. The chestnuts were still warm, large and sweet, the shells split for easy peeling. He ate two, soft and fragrant, and reached for a third before Jiang Fulang stopped him.

“Careful—you’ll get heat in your system.”

Yuanbao obediently set them down, smiling as he stroked his rounded belly. His gaze fell on the little tiger-head baby shoes in Jiang Fulang’s sewing basket. Picking them up, he examined them closely. “They’re almost finished.”

Winter had set in deep by then. Snow fell day after day; icicles hung from every eave, and the ground froze hard beneath the sweepers’ brooms.

Even with people clearing the paths daily, there was no guarantee someone wouldn’t slip.

Earlier, at the start of the winter month, Bai Qiaogui had given birth. Yuanbao had rushed over to see her.

There had been no snow that day, only a heavy frost. In his haste, he had nearly slipped at the doorway, frightening everyone half to death—including himself. But once he saw that Bai Qiaogui had safely delivered a daughter, his heart finally eased.

After that, the cold deepened, and he grew wary of going out. He stayed home instead.

Xiao Hu and Jiang Fulang, fearing he’d feel lonely, kept him company. When snow fell, they sat together by the fire, chatting and watching it drift outside—just as they had in their old village winters.

It wasn’t lively, but with the whole family gathered around the brazier, the days felt warm and steady.

“The year’s nearly done,” Xiao Hu said one evening, listening to the faint crackle of firecrackers outside. “Still no letter from Beinan. I wonder how cold it is down there. Looks like he won’t be back for the new year.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “Father misses him more than I do, it seems.”

“His last letter said the work there was heavy,” Xiao Yuanbao went on. “Salt administration isn’t a small matter. It takes at least half a year to complete. When he left, he took clothes for every season. I stopped expecting him to return for the festival long ago.”

Xiao Hu nodded. “He’s serving the state; his duty comes first. We’re here to mind the home.”

Jiang Fulang added teasingly, “You’re just saying that to keep Brother in good spirits. You dote on him enough already.”

Xiao Hu chuckled but couldn’t think of a retort. He was a restless man—barely a few weeks in the capital, and he had already persuaded Yuanbao to buy more land on the outskirts and start building a small manor. Come spring, he’d be off managing it again.

Xiao Yuanbao laughed softly. Watching the two elder men bicker good-naturedly was one of his quiet joys.

On the thirtieth of the twelfth month—the eve of the new year—fireworks and firecrackers lit up the capital one after another.

That night, the family gathered in the great hall for their reunion dinner.

Xiao Yuanbao, his belly round and heavy, insisted on cooking at least one dish himself—a chicken-braised bamboo shoot stew, fragrant and rich.

He had wanted to prepare a full feast as in past years, but his strength was no longer the same. After finishing that one dish, Jiang Fulang shooed him from the kitchen and told him to rest in the hall.

Sitting in the warm, fire-heated room, Xiao Yuanbao gazed out the window. The snow outside was falling thicker than ever, and above the rooftops, he could just make out the bloom of fireworks lighting the night sky.

He hadn’t meant to think of him. Yet amid the noise and cheer of the festival, there came a quiet moment—and in that stillness, thoughts of him rose unbidden.

Everywhere his gaze fell—inside the room, beyond the window—it seemed that man’s presence lingered. He could almost hear his voice at his ear.

Once the longing stirred, a heaviness settled in his chest, dull and restless.

Whether it was the snow that delayed messengers or something else, not a single letter had come through—not even for the New Year.

Xiao Yuanbao lowered his head and gently touched his rounded belly. “I wonder what your father is doing now,” he murmured. “Has he even a moment to think of us?”

No sooner had the words left his lips than a rough, familiar voice came from the doorway:

“How could mere longing be enough to speak of it?”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

“Every meal and drink depends on salt,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “We were both born common folk—we know how vital it is. Your assignment to manage the salt affairs is a fine thing indeed.”

When Xiao Yuanbao heard that Qi Beinan had been recommended by the Duke to go to Yuanping to oversee the salt administration—and knowing this was something Qi Beinan had long wished for—he was truly happy for him.

To serve as an official is to bring honor to one’s household. Yet once seated in such a position, one must work for the good of the state and the people.

Otherwise, to take the court’s stipend, enjoy its honors and privileges, and do nothing in return—what justice could there be in that?

Xiao Yuanbao knew Qi Beinan was never one without ambition.

The reason he had not striven harder in the bureaucracy before was only because he had been unwilling to leave Xiao Yuanbao unguarded.

When they first arrived in the capital, they had neither kin nor friends, and knew nothing of its ways.

Qi Beinan’s quiet, steady years in the Hanlin Academy had been spent so he could remain by Xiao Yuanbao’s side, to protect him and manage any trouble before it reached him.

But now, more than two years had passed. Their home was secure, their business thriving.

Xiao Yuanbao had grown adept at navigating life in the capital. With the restaurant running well, he was no idle man with empty days.

He had both old friends and new acquaintances, elders to turn to, and nothing left to cause worry.

“These years, you’ve done so much for our family—for me,” he said softly. “Now you should go and do what you’ve always wanted.”

“I can take care of everything at home. You needn’t worry.”

Qi Beinan took his hand. “I believe you can. Our little Bao has long since stopped being that child who used to hide from strangers—you’re more than capable now.”

“When I travel this time, I won’t have to leave with my heart hanging in my throat, as I did in my student days.”

He looked at the bright, gentle eyes before him and said quietly, “Only, Xiao Bao…”

“All I’ve done for you, for our home,” he went on, “I’ve done gladly, without regret. Never once did I feel I had lost anything for it.”

The years they had shared since childhood—those were the memories that visited him in dreams, the happiest he had ever known.

He truly… truly could not imagine a life more complete than this one.

Xiao Yuanbao suddenly lifted his arms and embraced him, resting his cheek lightly against Qi Beinan’s neck.

“Thank you… Anan,” he murmured. “Thank you for coming into my life.”

Perhaps it sounded overly formal, but it was something he had long wanted to say.

Thank you for your integrity.
Thank you for your constancy.
Thank you for every lesson, every quiet kindness since we were young.

He had once been too naïve to see it all. But after coming to the capital, after everything he had experienced, he finally understood—had Anan not been by his side all these years, guiding him step by step, he would never have found such steady footing, even here in the capital.

He often thought himself too fortunate, to the point of fear—that one day, he might lose this man who was too good for him.

But reality had proved otherwise: Qi Beinan always gave him peace.

Qi Beinan drew him close and said with a soft sigh, “If you wish to thank me, then spend the rest of your life doing so.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed. “That’s a bargain in my favor. I’d be glad to agree.”

…

The expedition to the southwest for the salt investigation departed in late July.

The procession of carriages and horses was vast. Translated on Hololo novels. Though Xiao Yuanbao had said his farewell at home, he could not help running up to the city wall to see Qi Beinan off.

The flags snapped in the wind; his hair whipped across his brow.

He watched Qi Beinan, upright on horseback, as the convoy moved slowly toward the city gates—his heart seemed to follow after him.

This journey would last at least half a year, perhaps longer. With so many days and nights apart, how could one not feel the ache of parting?

Xiao Yuanbao took a deep breath, pressing down the heaviness in his chest.

Everything about the capital was fine—except its suffocating summer heat.

The air was stifling, the cicadas loud. Standing long beneath the burning sun, he soon felt weary.

He was just turning to go when he caught sight of Gu Yanyu beside him, weeping silently, eyes glistening like dew on jade.

“What’s this? Why are you crying?”

Gu Yanyu sniffled and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.

“My father is so cruel,” he said, voice trembling. “All because Qingyu and I made a dish together without saving him any, and now—barely married a few months—he’s sent him away to the provinces!”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help laughing at the complaint.

“The Duke didn’t mean to separate you two. But once you enter official life, you must gain experience beyond the capital. It’s the only way to rise.”

“I know that,” Gu Yanyu said tearfully, “but knowing doesn’t make it hurt less.”

His voice wavered. “When he’s here, I can bear it. But now, he’s going so far to the southwest—what if he forgets me?”

“How could that be?” Xiao Yuanbao consoled him. “With the Duke overseeing things, Lin Daren wouldn’t dare forget the Junjun. Most likely, you’ll be getting letters every three days and gift boxes every five.”

“Truly?” Gu Yanyu asked, eyes red and hopeful.

“How could it not be true? When a man sees someone every day, he may take them for granted. But when distance divides you, he begins to long for what he’s lost. As the saying goes, ‘what is distant smells sweet; what is near, too familiar.’ Once he can’t see you, Lin Daren will surely miss you all the more.”

When Gu Yanyu heard that, his heart eased a little.

The two walked down together from the city wall, and Gu Yanyu begged Xiao Yuanbao to come home with him for a chat.

Xiao Yuanbao agreed and went with him to the Lin residence, where they lingered for half the afternoon.

By the time he returned home, the sun had already sunk behind the western hills.

“I don’t know why,” he murmured once inside his carriage, “but I feel so tired.”

He yawned twice, half-asleep as the wheels rumbled on.

Wen-ge’er, the servant driving him, said, “You rose early to see the master off, then spent half the day talking with the Junjun. In this summer heat, who wouldn’t be weary?”

“That may be true, but I haven’t done anything strenuous,” Xiao Yuanbao replied with a small frown. “Feels like I’m not as strong as before.”

Back at home, he ate a little and went to bed early.

He had gone out to see Qi Beinan off, feeling heavy-hearted, yet compared with Gu Yanyu—who was newly married and now parted from Lin Qingyu—his own sorrow was mild.

He had spent the morning comforting the Junjun, and whether his words had helped or not, at least he himself felt lighter.

That night, instead of lying awake missing Qi Beinan, he fell asleep quickly and did not stir until daylight filled the room.

Still groggy, he blinked at the brightness outside and sat up in alarm.

He’d slept so long—dreams tumbling one after another through the night.

But what exactly he’d dreamed, he couldn’t quite recall. Only fragments lingered: soft, fair little children with round bright eyes and plump cheeks, laughing at him, showing two tiny teeth.

They looked oddly familiar—so adorable that he couldn’t resist picking one up.

The child was even softer than he’d imagined, and when the little one planted a kiss on his cheek and called him “Little Father,” his heart melted.

Qi Beinan had been laughing beside him, teasing that he too had been that cute as a child.

Remembering it now, Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help smiling.

Then, with a start, he realized—it had only been a dream.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, then flopped back into the pillows.

That man was far away in the southwest now; for the time being, talk of children was no more than wishful thinking.

He kicked at the quilt a few times, then suddenly sat upright again.

Still, since Qi Beinan wasn’t home, he might as well take the chance to nourish his health. When he returned, wouldn’t it be all the easier to conceive?

The thought made him brighten. He climbed down from bed with new energy—only to pause mid-step.

If he meant to condition his body, he’d have to find someone to take his pulse.

That would mean going to Gui-jie’er, of course—but just the thought made him blush with embarrassment.

The last time he’d visited her, she had teased him mercilessly, urging him to hurry and have a child with Anan so their little ones could grow up and play together.

It was a lovely idea—but since nothing had happened yet, he had stubbornly said he wasn’t in a rush.

Now if he went to her for a consultation about “nourishing the body,” she’d laugh at him for sure.

He sighed, hesitated, then his eyes flickered with resolve. He dressed neatly, took his purse, and slipped out to the street.

Only, instead of going to Bai Qiaogui’s house, he quietly directed the carriage toward an apothecary outside the city gate.

“Has the young master felt any particular discomfort?” the physician asked.

“Not really,” Xiao Yuanbao admitted, a little shy. “I only wanted to have a check-up—to strengthen my body, so that… I might have a child.”

His examiner was an older man, clearly long accustomed to such matters. “Very well,” he said mildly. “Let me feel your pulse first, then we’ll speak.”

Xiao Yuanbao rolled up his sleeve quickly and held out his wrist.

He’d always been in good health, seldom ill, and rarely saw a doctor. With Gui-jie’er usually tending to him when needed, this visit felt almost furtive—like sneaking about for something shameful.

The old physician pressed his fingers lightly against the pulse for a while. Then his brow lifted in surprise as he looked up at Xiao Yuanbao.

The sudden expression made Xiao Yuanbao’s heart lurch. “Doctor—is something wrong with me?”

The physician withdrew his hand, still staring in mild astonishment. “You said you came to strengthen your body to have a child?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded nervously, unsure what to make of it.

He was about to ask further when the physician said, “You’re already with child. For a moment I thought my hearing was failing—mistook ‘nourish the body’ for ‘nourish the pregnancy.’”

Xiao Yuanbao’s mouth fell open in shock.

It took him a long moment to find his voice again. “D-doctor… do you mean I’m already pregnant?”

The physician chuckled. “Would I jest about such things in my own clinic?”

“You truly are inattentive—already carrying for months and still unaware, coming here to ask for tonics!”

Seeing the doctor’s certainty, Xiao Yuanbao instinctively laid his hand over his lower abdomen.

Thinking back, he did recall lately feeling hungrier, sleepier—but he had blamed it on the summer weather, never imagining this.

“H-how far along am I?” he finally asked, almost whispering.

“Just over two months,” the doctor said. “I’ll prescribe a few gentle herbs to stabilize the pregnancy. Be cautious for the first four months. You’re fortunate—though unaware, you’ve managed these past weeks without harm. It helps, too, that your health is sound.”

“No matter how healthy the body, once there’s a child, you must take great care,” the physician had warned. “A moment’s carelessness could cost you the baby—and harm your health besides.”

Xiao Yuanbao drew in a deep, steady breath. His head was still light, as if he had just woken from a dream.

The surprise was almost too much to grasp—so sudden, so unforeseen—that for a moment he could not react at all.

He had come with the hope of conceiving, yet it turned out he already had.
And worse, he had just seen Qi Beinan off. If only he had known a day earlier, they might have shared the joy together.

Thinking this, he felt a pang of fear. The doctor was right—he truly had been careless. To think he’d gone about unaware, carrying a child for months!

When he left the clinic, his thoughts were still in a blur.

Perhaps because the blessing had come so easily and so unexpectedly, part of him dared not believe it was real.

Though he already held the prescription in hand, he turned his carriage toward Bai Qiaogui’s house all the same.

Only after she confirmed it with her own hands, he thought, could his heart settle.

When he arrived at the Luo residence, Bai Qiaogui was taking her midday rest.

Ordinarily, he would never have disturbed her at this hour, much less woken her from sleep.

“What urgent matter could be worth waking a pregnant woman?” she muttered, sitting up. She hadn’t been asleep long, but she was surprised to see Xiao Yuanbao at such a time.

She gave him a teasing look. “Now that Lord Qi’s gone to the provinces, you’ve learned to wander about at any hour, have you?”

“Good Gui-jie’er, don’t tease me,” he said, flustered. “It’s important.”

He helped her sit up, then rolled up his sleeve. “Quickly, take my pulse.”

Seeing his anxious expression, Bai Qiaogui thought something serious must have happened. She set aside her laughter and took his wrist, face turning grave.

A moment later, her brows lifted, and she broke into a delighted smile. “My dear boy—you’re with child!”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked at her, his face slowly relaxing before breaking into an astonished grin.

“So it’s true—it really is a pregnancy pulse!”

The two of them rejoiced together, talking excitedly for quite a while.

At last Bai Qiaogui sighed. “Ah, but how unlucky in timing. You’ve just conceived, and Lord Qi’s been sent off to the southwest. Who will look after you now?”

But Xiao Yuanbao was still lost in the wonder of it. He couldn’t stop laying his hand over his stomach—flat though it was. Just knowing that a tiny life had begun there filled him with a fullness of joy beyond words.

From the moment he heard the news, that simple gesture—touching his belly again and again—had already become instinct.

“I do think his timing was poor,” he said at last, smiling. “If I’d known sooner, he would have been so happy. But then again, perhaps it’s for the best. If he knew I was pregnant, he would never have agreed to go to the southwest.”

He laughed softly. “So this little one of mine is already thoughtful—doesn’t want to delay his father’s duties.”

Bai Qiaogui couldn’t help laughing. “Listen to you! You’ve only just found out, and already you’re praising the child. I can only imagine how spoiled it’ll be once born.”

“Loved, yes—but not spoiled,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “I won’t raise a wayward child.”

“Very well, very well. In any case, Lord Qi knows how to raise children—look how well he’s raised you.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s cheeks flushed faintly.

Bai Qiaogui smiled, then grew serious again. “Jests aside—you’re with child now, and Lord Qi’s away. I truly can’t rest easy about that.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. He’d never borne a child before, nor seen much of pregnancy up close; he dared not take it lightly. Everything must now revolve around the baby.

“I’ll make proper arrangements.”

When he returned home, he told Jiang Fulang the news.

Jiang was overjoyed—then immediately concerned, since Qi Beinan had just departed. Without hesitation, he packed his things and moved back into the house to watch over Xiao Yuanbao day and night.

Xiao Yuanbao discussed writing home to summon his father.

When they had last parted, Xiao Hu had said that he’d come to the capital as soon as there was a grandchild to dote on. Now that day had come, and with Qi Beinan away in the southwest, there was no reason his father would refuse.

And even if city life bored him, they had already bought land outside the capital, building cottages for the mushroom farmers there. When tired of the bustle, his father could always spend time at their own estate.

The man had always loved tending to fields and soil; now that they had money, Xiao Yuanbao planned to buy a few more plots and build him a small manor to manage—enough to keep him content.

Once his father arrived, Xiao Yuanbao would send another letter to Qi Beinan, telling him the happy news.

By then, with his father in the capital and Gui-jie’er watching over him, everything would be well in hand. Knowing that, Qi Beinan would be able to focus on his duties without worry.

When the letter home was written and sealed, Xiao Yuanbao went to stand by the window.

The moon outside was round and bright.

He felt a deep happiness as he imagined his father’s delight upon reading the letter—but beneath the soft summer wind, there lingered a quiet emptiness.

Anan loved children. They had long dreamed together of having one.

Now that dream had come true—but he was alone in the joy of it.

In his heart, he longed to tell Qi Beinan at once, to share it without delay.

But reason held him back.

The good news was not going anywhere; sooner or later, Anan would know. There was no need to rush.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚