Author Archives: sandy

Zhao Changyan had not fallen asleep.

Ever since her escape began, she had never known a peaceful night’s rest.

And now that fortune had suddenly turned her way, her heart was burning with excitement, making sleep even more elusive.

She was already planning how to seize this opportunity—to build power, to take revenge, to reclaim what was lost.

Her thoughts turned to those refugees who had eyed her with hostility, and she began devising ways to use the “Little Boss” to teach them a lesson.

The night deepened, and fog mixed with the poisonous miasma drifted between the mountain ridges.

Zhao Changyan could hear the hum of mosquitoes around her, yet none bit her.

After so many nights of sleeping rough, it was the first time she found the night bearable.

Meanwhile, down by the Yangshan Pass ancient road—

Most of the refugees had spread mats on the ground and fallen asleep.

A few night sentries crouched by the fire, talking quietly.

Suddenly, the old man rose and walked over to them.

“Village Chief? It’s late—why aren’t you asleep?” one of the watchmen asked.

“Chen San,” the old man whispered, “tell me, where is Chang Qiniang?”

The watchmen exchanged uneasy looks.

Chen San feigned confusion. “Chang Qiniang? Isn’t she here?”

The old man fixed his gaze on him. “Don’t play dumb. I saw Chang Qiniang enter the mountains with your group.”

Chen San said, “Village Chief, you must have seen wrong.”

“I may be past fifty,” said the old man, “but my eyes are not failing yet.”

Realizing they couldn’t hide it, one of the watchmen sighed. “It’s true, I saw her in the mountains, but she didn’t stay with us. I don’t know where she went.”

The old man didn’t believe him—he suspected they had harmed her.

Annoyed, Chen San snapped, “That fierce woman? What could we possibly do to her?”

The old man’s expression flickered with uncertainty, as if recalling something.

Chen San smirked. “And besides, that strange girl—whether she’s dead or alive has nothing to do with us. Who knows if she’s some fugitive? If she stayed with us, she might drag us into trouble. I know you wanted to bring her back as a granddaughter-in-law, but your grandson Chen Bao could never handle her!”

The old man fell silent, clearly struck by the remark.

After a long pause, he sighed. “Forget it. Fate decides all.”

*

At dawn, the refugees began to stir.

Among the Chu group, the old man decided they would continue southward.

The Dayue refugees, on the other hand, planned to settle nearby and build a stockade.

Both groups prepared to part ways.

Suddenly, a figure burst out from the forest.

The Chu refugees recognized her.

“Chang Qiniang!?”

Chen San’s eyes widened.

Zhao Changyan—alive!?

Impossible!

How could a lone woman survive a night alone in the deep, wild mountains?

The old man was the first to recover. “Chang Qiniang, where have you been?”

Zhao Changyan noticed that the Dayue refugees not far away were pricking up their ears, eager for gossip.

She deliberately cried out with excitement, “I met a divine lady!”

In that instant, the crowd’s reactions were varied and vivid—some skeptical, some curious and leaning closer, some confused, some sneering or disappointed.

Zhao Changyan had spoken in the local dialect, which the Dayue refugees understood.

The leader of the Dayue group strode forward in great haste.

“What divine lady? Where?”

He had heard the Chu people talking last night—about the cross-dressed girl who went into the forest and never came back. Chu, being a vassal of the Central Plains, mostly spoke the standard court dialect, while near the Dayue border, locals also used regional and Hakka tongues. The Chu refugees didn’t know he understood the common dialect as well.

He too had assumed the girl was dead.

Yet here she was—alive, and claiming an encounter with the divine.

Following his question, Zhao Changyan answered, “Up in the mountain! There’s plenty of food and clean water. Last night, under the divine lady’s protection, I escaped the beasts safely.”

To prove her words, she held up a honey bun. “Look—this is a bun the divine lady bestowed upon me.”

When she had gone into the forest, she had nothing but an axe.

Now, out of nowhere, she had a kind of bun no one had ever seen before. Her story immediately gained credibility.

Everyone’s gaze locked on the bun in her hand, their eyes burning with hunger.

The Chu refugees, already starving, rushed forward. “Where is the divine lady? Take us to her!”

Behind them, Chen San and the others whispered, “Could this be a trap?”

“Unlikely,” one muttered. “Even if she wanted to harm us, does she have the strength to take on so many?”

Chen San thought about it and nodded. “True enough.”

At that moment, the Dayue refugees insisted on accompanying Zhao Changyan up the mountain.

The Chu refugees, unwilling to fall behind, urged her to lead the way as well.

Still, since the forest was dangerous, they sent only the able-bodied men.

The Dayue people, used to living amid miasma and rough terrain, were unafraid.

And so, a large mixed group set out in search of the so-called goddess.

Zhao Changyan had marked the path on her way back, so this time she moved quickly.

After crossing only two ridges, they saw it—the towering “building” standing proudly atop the next hill.

Zhao Changyan pointed ahead. “That is the divine lady’s dwelling.”

The weary group instantly came alive, quickening their pace.

“We’ll soon meet the divine lady!” someone exclaimed.

Encouraged, even the children who had been crying from leech bites and scratches quieted down.

Finally, after circling a cliff face, a full view of the three-story structure emerged before them.

*

The supermarket’s business hours were 8:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m.

It was just past seven now.

Zhou Li had just woken up and was heading downstairs to fetch a pack of frozen dumplings to boil for breakfast.

As soon as Zhou Li turned on the light, she saw a dense crowd gathered outside the supermarket.

Each person’s face was sallow and thin, their eyes fierce as they stared at her through the glass.

“Sh—” Zhou Li almost blurted out a curse, but thanks to years of self-restraint, she barely swallowed it back.

She said to the system, “For a second, I thought you’d quietly transported me to a zombie apocalypse plane.”

System: “…The system cannot perform plane jumps without authorization. Any exceptional case would still require your consent.”

Zhou Li asked, “Then what’s with those… people outside?”

The system gave no clear answer. “Perhaps it’s related to last night’s customer.”

Hearing that, Zhou Li walked over and opened the door.

Her action startled the refugees outside, who immediately backed away.

They looked her up and down—some with curiosity, others with fear or suspicion.

Some even showed contempt, seeing that she looked like an ordinary woman.

But none of them wanted to be the first to act.

Until Zhou Li spoke. “The supermarket isn’t open yet. If you want to buy something, prepare money or valuables first.”

The refugees didn’t understand the word “supermarket,” but they caught the meaning of the second half.

They just couldn’t understand why this so-called “divine lady” would speak of buying and selling.

Chen San whispered to his companion, “I don’t think she’s any divine lady—just some peddler woman selling goods.”

“Big Brother, I’m so hungry.”

“I saw buns inside.”

“Is that glass? How could it be so smooth and clear?”

“A door made of glass—how extravagant!”

The refugees muttered among themselves.

Zhou Li ignored the noise, picked up a pack of frozen dumplings, and went upstairs to cook.

Soon, the smell of food drifted down from the second floor.

“Mother, it smells so good,” murmured a Dayue child, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

“Wait a bit longer. The divine lady said she’ll start selling once she opens for business,” the mother said.

“When will that be?” the child asked, not knowing what “opening for business” meant—only that he wanted food.

The crowd waited a long time, growing restless.

Chen San and his men exchanged glances—they decided to sneak inside and take what they wanted while Zhou Li was gone.

He shouted to the others, “If she’s truly a divine lady, she should save the people, not demand payment! She’s no goddess—just a merchant pretending to be one to cheat us! Look at all that food inside—why don’t we take it and share it ourselves?”

His words made no sense, but in a world where the strong ruled, reason was useless.

Besides, the refugees had no money. The goods inside looked expensive—they couldn’t afford them anyway.

If they had to pay, it would likely mean selling their children just like with corrupt merchants.

The moment they saw food, the thought of taking it had already taken root—they’d only kept silent out of fear.

Now that someone had spoken up, they eagerly followed.

Meanwhile, among the Dayue group—

Someone tugged on the leader’s sleeve. “Chief, should we…”

The leader, Dou Dailang, scanned the crowd.

He noticed that “Chang Qiniang,” the one who first met the “divine lady,” had stayed hidden behind everyone.

That made him wary. “No one move without my order,” he said sharply.

“But what if the Chu people take everything?”

“If you disobey and join in the looting, I’ll expel you from the Dou clan,” Dou Dailang growled.

The man shrank back immediately, abandoning the idea.

On the Chu side, a dozen men rallied around Chen San.

He mimicked Zhou Li’s movement from earlier and went to push the glass door.

From the speaker above the entrance came a cold, mechanical voice: “Outside of business hours.”

The crowd flinched in shock.

Chen San frowned, looking around. “Quit pretending to be some spirit!”

Rage emboldened him—he drew his axe and struck the door.

Sparks flew from the impact.

But the glass door remained perfectly intact—while his axe now had a crack in it.

The voice came again: “Violent intrusion detected. Unauthorized entry.”

The instant the words ended, a powerful gust erupted from the ground. Chen San was lifted off his feet.

Worse, he couldn’t breathe—his chest tightened as if the air itself had vanished.

He flailed, reaching toward the others for help.

His companions grabbed for him, only to be swept up too—the air around them seemed sucked away, leaving them all gasping for breath.

By the time their faces turned purple and their trousers soaked, the wind suddenly ceased.

They crashed to the ground, limp and unresponsive.

The onlookers screamed, “Mountain ghosts! The mountain ghosts are eating people!”

At that moment, Zhao Changyan, who had been watching the spectacle with relish, stepped forward and scolded sharply, “Nonsense! The divine lady merely cast a minor spell to punish the wicked. To say she eats people is blasphemy!”

Her words silenced the crowd instantly.

Dou Dailang gave Zhao Changyan a long, thoughtful look. He understood now—this clever young woman had used the divine lady’s power to deal with Chen San and his gang.

The Dayue refugees silently rejoiced that they had obeyed Dou Dailang’s orders and not acted rashly.

…

Meanwhile, Zhou Li, eating breakfast on the second floor, remained unaware of the commotion outside.

After finishing her dumplings, she changed out of her pajamas and went downstairs to open the shop.

Something felt off the moment she saw the scene.

The refugees were keeping their distance, and a few were sprawled on the ground, panting heavily.

Asthma attacks?

She didn’t have any medicine for that.

As soon as she opened the door, Zhao Changyan stepped in first.

“Little Boss.”

Zhou Li asked, “These are the fellow villagers you mentioned?”

Zhao Changyan nodded and gestured toward the ones on the ground. “Those fools tried to rush in. Fortunately, Little Boss is mighty and gave them the punishment they deserved.”

Zhou Li: …

So they weren’t sick—they had tried to attack the supermarket and triggered its defense system.

She had still thought too kindly of human nature.

[Author’s Note]

Zhao Changyan: Borrowed the knife to kill—successfully. √

☢️☢️☢️

Zhou Li listed the qingyu stone on the system’s auction platform, and detailed information about the item automatically appeared:

【Qingyu Stone】
Year: 15 years
Date of Origin: 943 AD
Owner: Zhao Changyan (Lady of Yizhang County, Southern Chu)
Starting Bid: 8,800 yuan (recommended)
Buyout Price: 12,800 yuan (recommended)

…

Zhou Li glanced at Zhao Changyan.

This girl was no ordinary refugee.

Although her speech had already hinted that she wasn’t a commoner, Zhou Li hadn’t expected her background to be this significant.

To have hidden her identity and joined a refugee caravan—something serious must have happened.

Still, that wasn’t Zhou Li’s concern.

She didn’t expose her, simply set the price quietly.

Moments after posting it, the item started receiving bids.

When the price reached 10,000 yuan, someone decisively hit the buyout button and purchased it.

The entire process, though it seemed lengthy, had taken only a few minutes.

Zhou Li handed Zhao Changyan a supermarket membership card and said, “Your fish-stone sold for 12,800 yuan. After deducting a 192-yuan service fee, you have 12,608 yuan left on this card. You can use it for purchases here anytime.”

To Zhao Changyan, the fish-stone had been priceless.

Learning it sold for only a little over ten thousand left her slightly disappointed.

But once she understood the supermarket’s prices, her disappointment vanished—replaced by astonishment.

In Chu, rice now cost 1,200 wen per dou (about 12 jin).

Yet here, fine white rice was only three qian per jin!

A half-jin pack of refined salt—just two qian!

Since ancient times, food, silk, salt, and iron had been vital for keeping the people stable.

They could even determine the fate of nations.

Especially salt and iron—both monopolized by the court to prevent rebellion and control the populace.

If one could control large supplies of food and salt…

Zhao Changyan’s heartbeat quickened, her breathing grew heavy.

But soon, she calmed herself.

Even if she had the money, she couldn’t yet raise an army to reclaim her home.

She would have to bide her time.

Caressing the membership card, she asked, “Does this money need to be spent all at once?”

Zhou Li replied, “As long as I’m still here, you can use it anytime.”

Zhao’s heart tightened. “Little Boss, when will you leave?”

“That’s hard to say. But even if I leave for a while, I’ll come back. Don’t worry—your money won’t vanish. And if you’d rather not keep it, I can convert the balance into equivalent goods before I go.”

After all, she was meant to open trade across multiple worlds—no reason to only do this once.

When the system had said she could “return home” after completing her trade quota, it meant ending this trip, not severing her connection to the system.

She could return anytime she wanted.

Zhao Changyan exhaled in relief.

If the Little Boss were never coming back, she wouldn’t dare tell anyone about this supermarket—fearing that others would discover it and compete to buy out its goods.

Zhao Changyan asked, “Little Boss, which foods here can be eaten without cooking?”

Zhou Li led her to the food section. “These breads can fill you up. These snacks can be eaten straight from the bag. And these instant noodles—just soak them in hot water. I also provide free hot water here.”

The “Good Life Supermarket” mainly sold food and daily necessities.

Food was divided into five categories: fresh produce, frozen food, snacks, grains and oils, and beverages.

Fresh goods only included eggs collected from the village—no meat or vegetables.

After all, every household raised chickens and grew vegetables, and anyone wanting fresh produce could just go to the town market.

Selling meat or vegetables here would only lose money.

Household items included toiletries, cleaning supplies, bedding, home goods, office supplies, clothing, hats, and shoes.

…

When Zhao Changyan heard the price of instant noodles, she was shocked. “So light, yet two qian and five fen per pack!?”

A jin of rice could feed her five meals—two meals a day lasted two or three days.

One pack of noodles, at best, was two meals.

The cheapest bread was four qian a piece…

And snacks that required no preparation were even more expensive.

After much comparison, she realized rice was still the best deal.

Seeing her struggle, Zhou Li went to the storeroom and brought out several boxes of near-expiry goods.

“This honey mini bread—nine yuan for thirty-six pieces.”

The bread had been a promotional gift from a snack company for a “spend 108 yuan, get one box free” event.

When the promotion ended, a few leftover boxes remained.

They tasted awful, so Zhou Li hadn’t put them on display.

The shelf life was forty days, with twelve left before expiration.

If Zhao Changyan didn’t mind the taste and only wanted the cheapest way to fill her stomach, they were perfect for her.

The price won her over immediately—she bought a whole box without hesitation.

The little buns were small but soft and sweet, and to Zhao Changyan, they tasted heavenly.

“These buns are delicious!”

Perhaps because she had drunk cola earlier, one bun was enough to fill her stomach.

Looking at the remaining buns, Zhao Changyan asked hopefully, “Little Boss, may I leave the rest of these buns here with you for safekeeping?”

If she took them back, the other refugees would surely snatch them away.

Zhou Li said, “You can, but I can’t guarantee mice won’t steal them.”

The supermarket’s system-provided protective barrier covered only the store and Zhou Li herself.

Since the buns had already been sold, they were no longer considered store goods and were not included in the barrier’s protection.

Zhao Changyan thanked her sincerely. “Thank you, Little Boss.”

Seeing how clean the place was, she felt sure there could not possibly be any mice here.

Then Zhao Changyan asked, “Little Boss, may I rest outside?”

Zhou Li nodded. “Go ahead. I just can’t guarantee your safety.”

“As long as I can rest under your light, I’ll be more than grateful. I dare not ask you for protection,” said Zhao Changyan as she lifted her axe and went outside.

She chopped several branches, gathered some dried animal dung, and built a fire two meters from the supermarket.

Zhou Li watched this live-action wilderness survival show for quite a while before stepping out of the shop.

She said, “There are many mosquitoes in these mountains. Down in the forest there are mountain leeches, and up here in the grasslands there are water leeches. Aren’t you afraid they’ll latch onto you again?”

Zhao Changyan paused.

The places where the mountain leeches had bitten her still ached.

—When she had used salt to remove them earlier, some salt had gotten into the wounds, and the burning pain had been unbearable.

Zhou Li seized the moment to recommend a mosquito net, straw mat, and insect spray. “Use the branches to support the mosquito net, lay the mat inside, and spray the insecticide around you. That’ll keep bugs away for at least two hours.”

The smallest mosquito net cost 13 yuan, the straw mat 15, and the insect spray another 15.

Since Zhao Changyan was her first customer and member, Zhou Li gave her a 20% discount.

Even with the discount, Zhao Changyan had to grit her teeth to buy them.

After setting up the mosquito net and spraying the insecticide, the buzzing around her ears indeed subsided.

“Remember,” Zhou Li cautioned, “don’t spray it directly on yourself. If it gets on your hands, wash them with soap. If you handle food afterward without washing, you could get sick.”

Zhao Changyan rubbed the can thoughtfully.

This “mist” clearly had some poisonous quality.

Too strong-smelling to use for assassination, unfortunately—but in battle, one could spray it into an enemy’s face to incapacitate them briefly…

After preparing her small bed, Zhao Changyan returned to the supermarket to purchase daily necessities.

Zhao Changyan asked, “What is this barrel made of?”
Zhou Li replied, “Plastic.”
Zhao Changyan frowned. “What is plastic?”
Zhou Li tapped the bucket. “This is plastic.”
Zhao Changyan: …

She then picked up a shiny washbasin. “Why does this basin have the color of silver? It’s harder than iron yet lighter.”
Zhou Li answered, “That’s stainless steel.”
Zhao Changyan said, “Steel that doesn’t rust?”
Zhou Li replied, “Not that it never rusts—just that it’s much harder to.”
Zhao Changyan: “…”

By the end of the shopping trip, Zhou Li’s mouth was dry, and she found herself wanting to hire a store clerk.

Otherwise, every time someone from this ancient world came to shop, she would have to explain everything all over again—it was exhausting.

Before she could find a clerk, she realized she would also need to print a traditional-character version of the price tags…

Zhao Changyan spent 23 yuan on a stainless-steel basin, 40 centimeters in diameter, and another 3 yuan on a small towel.

Then, shamelessly, she asked Zhou Li for some hot water and half-filled the basin with cold water from the restroom to wash herself.

When Zhao Changyan came out, her wounds hurt noticeably less.

Seeing that she was still wearing her filthy clothes, Zhou Li tried to promote the unsold old-style clothing from the shop.

“I have clothes for sale here. Do you want to change into something clean?”

Zhao Changyan shook her head, rejecting Zhou Li’s offer.

Dressing too neatly would draw attention.

Her top priority now was survival. Improving her living conditions could wait until she was strong enough.

Zhou Li said, “Alright, but if you want clean undergarments, just tell me—I sell those too.”

…

By ten o’clock that night, it was time for the supermarket to close.

Zhou Li glanced at the little bed under the mosquito net.

She didn’t know whether Zhao Changyan had fallen asleep, but she still left a light on outside the store for her.

[Author’s Note]

Little Boss: Mercy? Sympathy? What’s that? How much does it sell for?

☢️☢️☢️

Zhou Li waited from morning until night, yet not a single customer came.

She muttered, “Why did it have to land here? Are there even people who can come to this place?”

The system’s voice echoed in her mind: “Because this is unclaimed land. There will be no disputes over ownership, and this area holds great development potential.”

Zhou Li’s mouth twitched.

Of course there were no disputes—there weren’t even people.

At first, she thought this was a prairie.

When the sun rose high and the fog finally lifted, she realized she was actually surrounded by endless mountains.

Her supermarket did sit on a patch of grassland, but it was a small, uneven plateau several hundred meters above sea level.

The soil looked poor. Only a handful of trees and sparse shrubs dotted the ground.

From the mountaintop, she could see a dense forest stretching down below—lush and wild.

Judging by the terrain and vegetation, Zhou Li concluded she must be somewhere in the southeastern hills.

She just wasn’t sure which southeastern region it was.

With no customers in sight, Zhou Li didn’t panic.

At noon, she fished a box of sliced beef from the fridge, went upstairs to the kitchen, and cooked a bowl of beef rice.

After eating, she brought her study materials downstairs to review.

When bored, she watched downloaded shows on her tablet.

And before she knew it, darkness had fallen.

“No one showed up all day. Definitely won’t have anyone tonight. Might as well close early,” she muttered.

Outside, everything was pitch-black. From time to time came howls of wolves and tigers, the chirping of insects, and strange cries from unknown beasts.

Even though Zhou Li had once lived in a countryside full of fields, the eerie sounds still made her uneasy.

Suddenly, she heard movement outside.

Something—or someone—was approaching.

Zhou Li peered through the glass door.

A moment later, a shadowy figure emerged from the mist.

“A person?” Zhou Li stood up, left the counter, and pushed open the glass door.

The figure seemed startled and quickly retreated back into the fog.

Zhou Li thought for a moment, said nothing, and returned to the counter.

—The instant she’d opened the door, she’d felt a mosquito fly in.

Electric mosquito coil, floral water spray, electric racket—she deployed them all at once.

As Zhou Li busied herself with this, the person hiding behind the trees cautiously stepped out again and slowly approached.

*

Zhao Changyan had been watching the strange house for a long time.

It looked nothing like the houses of the Central Plains, nor was it made of wood.

Its surface was covered in smooth, gleaming tiles—luxurious and indestructible.

Inside, it shone as bright as daylight. Boxes and shelves were filled with all manner of unknown items.

It reminded her of the tales of witches and spirits told among the common folk.

Could this be a ghost’s lair?

Well, whether it was a demon’s den or the underworld itself, she was ready to face it.

She had just steeled herself for death when the person inside suddenly opened what looked like a nearly transparent door—as if inviting her in.

Taking a deep breath, Zhao Changyan walked resolutely toward the bright, fragrant house.

Could this perhaps be the dwelling of the Consort Xiang?

The Consort Xiang was the most revered goddess of Chu.

There was even a temple to her a hundred li away at Mount Jiuyi. Could it be that the goddess had manifested here?

Zhao Changyan’s mind was a mess of wild guesses.

But the moment she stepped inside, the rich aroma of food made her stomach rumble.

The sound was so loud that even Zhou Li heard it.

Zhou Li looked up and found a ragged young woman standing there.

Her hair was matted, her face and body caked with grime, her clothes so dirty their original color was unrecognizable. A foul, sour smell clung to her.

Given the time period, Zhou Li could easily guess she was a refugee.

Zhou Li said, “No weapons allowed inside.”

Zhao Changyan instinctively gripped her axe tighter—then, after a pause, set it down.

“You… are you human or ghost?” Zhao Changyan asked.

Zhou Li laughed. “Why can’t I be an immortal?”

Zhao Changyan trembled. “May I ask the divine lady’s title?”

Zhou Li: …Did she just take that seriously?

Playing along, she said, “You’ve come to my domain, yet you don’t introduce yourself and instead question my identity? That’s rather rude.”

Zhao Changyan quickly bowed her head. “My name is Changyan. I’m from Chu. My home was destroyed by war, so I fled south with my village folk seeking refuge…”

She repeated what the old man had said earlier.

Zhou Li couldn’t tell if it was true, nor did she care much.

“Oh,” she replied, sounding a little disappointed.

If the girl was a refugee, she probably couldn’t afford to buy anything.

Zhou Li hadn’t come here to run a charity. She could tell the girl was starving, but didn’t offer help.

Zhao Changyan, meanwhile, found no useful clue in Zhou Li’s reaction.

She asked again, “May I know the divine lady’s name?”

“I am Zhou Li, titled ‘The Real Person of Trade.’ This is my cave-dwelling, called ‘Good Life Supermarket.’ You may also call me Little Boss.”

Zhao Changyan: ???

She tried to make sense of this bizarre introduction—only for the world to suddenly spin before her eyes.

Zhou Li jumped up. “Hey! Is this some kind of interplanar scam attempt?!”

System: …

The system said dryly, “She has hypoglycemia.”

Zhou Li blinked, sighed, and fetched a small bottle of cola from the shelf. She pried off the cap and poured two capfuls into the girl’s mouth.

When Zhao Changyan stirred again, Zhou Li gave her a few more.

…

Zhao Changyan felt bubbles rising in her mouth—

—thankfully, the non-painful kind.

Bubbles burst in her mouth, and her tongue was immediately met with sweetness.

The sugary liquid rolled down her throat like a cool spring, and she instinctively gulped it down.

When Zhou Li saw that she was awake, she quickly took the cola away to prevent her from choking.

Zhao Changyan blinked in a daze; once she came back to her senses, her eyes shimmered with yearning.

“Thank you, divine lady, for saving my life. Changyan is deeply grateful.”

Zhou Li noticed her staring longingly at the remaining cola. Since she couldn’t put it back on the shelf anyway, she handed it to her. “You can have it.”

Zhao Changyan’s face lit up. “Thank you for your blessing, divine lady!”

She accepted the cola but didn’t drink it right away—instead, she studied the bottle curiously.

What a strange vessel. Why was the liquid inside black?

Was it syrup made from boiled sugar? How else could it be so sweet?

Zhou Li waved her hand. “No need to thank me.”

Her own stomach growled, so she went to the microwave to retrieve her reheated meal.

She’d cooked too much beef rice at noon and had saved half for dinner.

Zhao Changyan had been completely focused on the cola, but the moment the aroma of the beef bowl filled the air, her attention snapped to the food.

“It smells so good.” Her face clearly said, I want to eat that.

Zhou Li said, “If you want to eat, you can pay for it.”

Zhao Changyan fumbled around her clothes and found no coins—only a few mountain leeches.

Zhou Li’s scalp prickled instantly. “Throw them out!”

Zhao Changyan froze, puzzled.

She gave Zhou Li a strange look, then obediently threw the leeches outside.

Zhou Li said, “When you find one leech on your body, it means you’re already covered in them!”

Zhao Changyan rolled up her sleeves and indeed found several leeches sucking her blood.

Some clung so tightly that she had to pry them off with her axe.

Zhou Li couldn’t watch anymore and handed her a packet of salt. “Sprinkle salt on them.”

Zhao Changyan: …

What a waste.

Still, since Zhou Li had given her the salt, it wasn’t her place to refuse.

She pinched some between her fingers and noticed how fine and white it was.

Such delicate, pure salt—surely only the Emoeror of Chu himself could afford it.

This “Real Person of Trade” was strange indeed.

Whenever Zhou Li seemed human, she would suddenly display godlike powers;
and whenever Zhao Changyan believed she was a deity, Zhou Li would behave in entirely human ways.

“Why are you spacing out? Hurry up and take off your clothes—check your whole body.” Zhou Li still had goosebumps.

Zhao Changyan clutched her collar. “Isn’t that… improper?”

If someone came by, wouldn’t they see her body?

Sensing her hesitation, Zhou Li led her to the restroom near the storeroom.

“No one can see you in there. There’s a mirror—you can use it to check your back.”

Then she shut Zhao Changyan inside.

Zhao Changyan looked up at the glowing light above and was nearly blinded before turning away.

She tapped the mirror and realized it wasn’t made of bronze.

Below it was a porcelain basin with a metal lump in the center—she had no idea what it was for.

As for the pit in the corner, after a few guesses, she realized it must be a chamber pot of sorts.

…

Zhao Changyan stayed in the restroom so long that Zhou Li began to worry she might have fallen in.

Just as Zhou Li was about to lose patience, Zhao finally came out.

When Zhou Li saw leeches still wriggling on the floor, she hurried to rinse them down with water.

Not only that—she also scrubbed the toilet thoroughly with cleaner.

Zhao Changyan silently memorized every move she made.

So that metal lump could release water!

And pressing the strange box behind the chamber pot also made water come out!

So that’s how it worked…

When Zhou Li turned back, she found Zhao Changyan standing there blankly, still holding the remaining salt.

Zhou Li held out her hand, palm up.

Zhao quickly returned the salt. “Thank you, divine lady.”

“Just call me Little Boss,” Zhou Li said.

Zhao corrected herself. “Little Boss.”

They returned to the counter, and Zhou Li asked, “Didn’t you say you were traveling south with your village folk? Why are you alone here?”

“They’re camped by the ancient road at the foot of the mountain. I went into the forest to find food, got lost, and fainted. My late mother guided me here.”

Zhou Li asked again, “So there are only refugees around? No villages?”

“Yes. About a hundred Chu people, and several dozen from Yue.”

Zhou Li sighed.

All refugees. This world was even more chaotic and harsh than the system had said.

Zhao asked gently, “Little Boss, are you troubled by something?”

“Not troubled,” Zhou Li said. “But I rely on trade—doing business to cultivate my path. I was hoping someone might come to buy things.”

Zhao Changyan: …

Someone who cultivates immortality through business?

If she were truly human, who in their right mind would open a shop in such deep mountains?

Zhao hesitated, then said cautiously, “Little Boss, forgive my bluntness, but not everyone among my townsfolk is well-mannered or law-abiding.”

Because of her upbringing, Zhao had restrained herself from snatching Zhou Li’s food, though hunger clawed at her.

But those desperate refugees… they would likely kill for a bowl of rice.

If Zhou Li was human, they’d devour her bones.

Unless she had some kind of protection.

Zhou Li said carelessly, “Doesn’t matter if they’re well-behaved or not—if they want to come in, they’ll have to follow my rules.”

Zhao asked, “And if they refuse?”

Zhou Li grinned, showing eight bright white teeth. “Then I’ll teach them what rules are.”

Zhao’s eyes gleamed as if struck by inspiration. “Then allow me to inform my fellow townsfolk.”

But truth be told, she was starving.

She hesitated, then removed a pendant from her neck and stared at it for a long time before asking, “Little Boss, can I exchange this fish-stone for your meal?”

The fish-stone, also called qingyu stone, came from the throat of a black carp.

It was believed to ward off evil and disasters, often carved into charms for children.

Her mother had polished this very stone when Zhao was born, and she had worn it for more than ten years.

When her mother appeared in her dream earlier and told her to live on, perhaps she meant for her to trade this stone for survival.

Zhou Li took the pendant and asked the system, “Is this thing worth anything?”

The system scanned it. “This piece of qingyu stone is fine quality and well-preserved. When first crafted, it was worth several thousand yuan. After years of wear, it could sell for over ten thousand.”

“What if I can’t sell it and get stuck with it?” Zhou Li asked. She didn’t know much about collectibles and feared being scammed.

The system replied, “You can list it on the system’s auction platform for a 1.5% transaction fee. Once sold, the system will legally generate an account for the buyer, then deposit the funds onto your supermarket membership card for purchases. This ensures your accounts stay consistent.”

Zhou Li: …

So she was just the supplier?

Still, selling to people from another world wasn’t much different from selling to her village customers.

Zhou Li said, “I don’t accept anything other than money.”

Zhao Changyan’s expression dimmed.

“But,” Zhou Li added, “I can sell it for you. If you’d like, I can list it and, after deducting a small service fee, the rest of the money will be yours. You can’t spend it outside, but you can use it here to buy anything you want.”

Zhao Changyan’s face lit up again.

“I’ll sell it! Thank you, Little Boss!”

☢️☢️☢️

Ancient Plane: Peach Blossom Land

Early morning, between spring and summer.

At the mist-shrouded peak of a mountain, a three-story house quietly appeared.

Hot, humid miasma pressed in from all directions, thickening the air until it felt sticky.

Suddenly, a ball of white light flared inside the house, scattering the haze.

Behind a glass door was a small convenience store.

Zhou Li braced her hands on the cashier counter, craning her neck to peer outside.

Even through the dense fog, she could tell they were on a vast grassland.

She muttered, “So the first stop of interplanar trade is… a prairie?”

…

A few weeks earlier—

Zhou Li, who had been preparing for the civil service exam, was summoned home by her mother, Zhou Hao, to take over the village store.

Calling it a “supermarket” was generous—it was really just a small grocery shop at the village entrance.

The store occupied the family’s self-built 180-square-meter house, sixty of which were an illegally added storage shed.

The first floor was the store; the second and third were their living quarters.

After dumping the supermarket on Zhou Li, Zhou Hao left for a so-called “market expansion research trip” out of town.

And just like that, Zhou Li found herself running a little store.

Then, somehow, she was “bound” to a Multiverse Trade System, becoming part of a project to pioneer cross-plane commerce—known simply as “Interplanar Trade.”

Today marked her first actual trade mission with the system, as her shop was transported to another world.

This first world targeted for trade was an ancient civilization.

It resembled China—though with different dynasties and historical figures, its culture, politics, and customs were much like China’s Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period.

In other words, it was an age of war and chaos, where commoners suffered.

But that had little to do with Zhou Li.

Her task was simple: run her store well, meet the system’s trade quotas, and she’d be able to return home.

*

Dayue Kingdom, Qitian Ridge, Yangshan Pass ancient road.

A group of refugees heading south unexpectedly crossed paths with another heading north.

Both sides halted, staring warily at one another.

“Where are you from?” asked the leader of the northbound group in a heavy local accent.

The southbound group, numbering over a hundred, was led by an old man in his fifties.

He climbed down from an ox cart and answered in halting dialect, “We are from Chu, fleeing the wars. What drove you from your home?”

The Dayue leader sighed. “Oppressive taxes left us no choice but to abandon everything and seek life elsewhere.”

The old man was shocked. “I thought Dayue was at peace. We came hoping to settle here, but it seems hardship reigns everywhere.”

The refugees murmured in despair.

They had already journeyed over a thousand li with their families in tow.

They thought they’d finally escaped a life of sword and slaughter.

Yet here was another hell.

Some broke into tears.

Along the way, they had eaten through their food, spent all their money, and even sold their children.

They had endured everything—but hope had run dry.

Despair spread through the crowd.

Perhaps out of bitterness, the old man said, “You needn’t go north. Chu burns with war, Jianghuai suffers drought, and every province bleeds under taxes. There’s no peace anywhere.”

The Dayue refugees believed him. After all, if peace existed elsewhere, these Chu people wouldn’t have come so far south.

“What should we do, then?” voices muttered among the Dayue group.

Someone proposed, “We could hide deep in the mountains.”

Dayue was a land of hills.

Though Qitian Ridge was remote, it wasn’t uninhabitable.

They could build stockades in the valleys, live off hunting and gathering, and carve terraces on the gentler slopes.

Far from any county, tax collectors would never find them.

This idea rekindled a flicker of hope.

Someone hesitated. “But the mountains are filled with miasma.”

“Where in Dayue isn’t there miasma?”

Generations born here had long grown used to it.

At that, the Dayue refugees began whispering eagerly among themselves.

The Chu refugees, however, were more cautious.

Dayue’s environment was harsher than they’d imagined.

Whether to keep heading south, stay here, or return to Chu—they needed time to discuss.

Unable to reach a conclusion and with night falling, both groups decided to camp nearby.

The Dayue people kept their distance—several hundred meters away.

It wasn’t wise to trust strangers. Too close, and they might lose their cattle or food before dawn.

…

Once both camps had fires going, groups began searching for water, fruit, and edible plants.

Yangshan Pass was a major road into Dayue, once bustling with travelers.

By now, every edible plant and huntable beast nearby had long been picked clean.

To find anything, they’d need to venture deep into the woods.

It was dangerous, so women and children stayed behind while the able-bodied men went out in groups.

Among the Chu refugees was a young girl dressed as a boy, gripping an axe as she followed the others.

Some men noticed her and exchanged mocking glances.

One laughed loudly, “Some women think wearing pants makes them men! Doesn’t know life from death.”

Another snickered, “Wait till she meets a tiger—she’ll cry for her mother!”

Suddenly, one of them shouted, “What’s that over there?”

Startled, the girl raised her axe defensively.

But when she looked, there was nothing.

The men burst out laughing.

Realizing she’d been tricked, her face darkened. She left them and went her own way.

They sneered.

Though they traveled together, none really knew her.

She had joined their band mid-journey.

Her disguise fooled no one—she was clearly a girl.

To some, that invited pity; to others, malice.

She met kindness with wariness and cruelty with violence.

Her axe had already taken at least three lives since she joined.

No one liked her, yet no one dared expel her either.

Mocking her was the only revenge they could safely take.

Now that she’d gone deeper into the forest, they could only hope the beasts would finish her.

*

The girl wandered for hours. She found no food, no animals.

The forest dimmed, and hunger made her limbs heavy.

It had been a full day since she last ate—she’d survived only by drinking water.

If she didn’t find food soon…

Her eyes turned to the tree bark.

Just then, she caught a flicker of motion—a rabbit darting past.

Revived with purpose, she chased after it.

She didn’t notice the mist rising, thickening until it hid all sense of direction.

When she stopped, she realized she was lost.

“Didn’t catch the rabbit, and now I’m lost too…” She gave a bitter smile. “Zhao Changyan, maybe Heaven really wants you dead.”

For days, she hadn’t truly slept—only dozed in brief fits.

Exhausted, starving, she finally collapsed against a tree, dropped her axe, and drifted into unconsciousness.

“Yan’er…”

“Yan’er, wake up.”

Hearing the voice, Zhao Changyan “opened” her eyes.

Her mother was calling to her.

“Mother!” Zhao Changyan cried, running forward. “Mother, I missed you so much!”

But her arms met only air.

Her mother, still clad in armor, stood silently at the edge of a bottomless abyss. “Yan’er, live on.”

“Mother!” Zhao Changyan ran toward her, but no matter how she tried, the distance never closed.

Suddenly, she stepped into emptiness—falling.

She jolted awake.

Night had fallen.

No abyss, no mother.

Her face was wet; she touched it and found it was her own tears.

…

Calming herself, Zhao Changyan stood and searched for a place to light a fire.

Then she saw it—a glow on the mountain above.

Could it be the foragers?

Hope surged. She hurried up a narrow trail toward the light.

After a long climb, bitten by insects and covered in welts, she finally reached the source.

And froze.

A bright, modern convenience store stood before her.

What… was that?

[Author’s Note]

Zhou Hao: I’m going to expand the supermarket!

Zhou Li: …It sure expanded—straight into interdimensional trade!

Fake supplier: Zhou Li, the small-time boss.
Real supplier: Zhou Hao, the big boss.

☢️☢️☢️

Yue Fubai circled Mu Xing twice, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

Mu Xing, baffled under his gaze: “Master?”

Swish!

Yue Fubai suddenly snapped his fan shut and burst into laughter:
“I was wondering—someone as promising as you, shouldn’t those rigid old fogeys of the righteous path be cherishing you like a treasure? How did I get so lucky to pick you up instead?”

And yet, someone had even maliciously dug out Mu Xing’s spiritual root.

Mu Xing: “?”

He was just about to ask when Yue Fubai, in a very good mood, reached out to pat his head and said with a smile:
“Good disciple, don’t worry. I’ll go dig through the demonic path’s classics and see how to handle someone like you.”

Mu Xing: “??”

But Yue Fubai told him nothing more. In high spirits, he even hummed a little tune as he left, roguishly elegant as always.

Left puzzled, Mu Xing was instead looked after comfortably by the pretty young ladies of the residence while Yue Fubai was away.

Three days later, Yue Fubai returned.

Mysteriously, he pulled something from his robe and handed it to Mu Xing:
“Good disciple, take this.”

Mu Xing: “?”

He reached out and accepted the palm-sized oval piece of white jade. The moment he touched it, his mind was flooded with knowledge.

The Pinching Flower Finger, The Compassionate Dharma Image, The Eight Desolation Canon, The Nine Schools of Deception…

They looked like various cultivation manuals, and just from the names, it was clear they weren’t of the same lineage.

Mu Xing, astonished: “These are…?”

Yue Fubai smiled faintly: “Cultivation methods.”

He said, “They’re all top-grade techniques. Whichever pleases you, practice it. If you have the ability, learn several at once.”

He added, “Your spiritual root has been damaged, but that’s not much of an issue. Most demonic techniques don’t depend heavily on such things.”

Looking at the heap of manuals, Mu Xing softly asked:
“Master… where did these come from?”

At this, Yue Fubai immediately made a pained expression.

He sighed: “Ah, for your sake, I really paid dearly this time.”

Shaking his fan, he lamented: “I had to trade for them. Those bastards fleeced me badly.”

Mu Xing was silent a moment, then asked:
“But things like The Pinching Flower Finger and The Compassionate Dharma Image… don’t they sound… awfully proper for demonic techniques?”

He didn’t want to say it outright, but these clearly sounded like Buddhist teachings.

“Oh, that.” Yue Fubai waved it off. “The Buddhist sect. Those bald donkeys are stingy and refused to trade. So I snuck in and stole them.”

Mu Xing: “…”

Now he was absolutely sure—his master was definitely a towering thigh to cling to.

It’s just… this thigh might not be so easy to cling to outside.

Hadn’t he made too many enemies already?

What if someday, out in the world, he revealed who his master was—wouldn’t people chase him across eight thousand miles?

He dared not say, dared not ask.

But Yue Fubai, seeing his little disciple’s worried expression, immediately guessed his thoughts.

He tapped Mu Xing’s head with his fan and snorted: “Silly child, don’t overthink.”

Then, gleefully sweeping his sleeve, he conjured a whole table full of treasures:
“Come, come, disciple, time to receive gifts!”

The radiance of treasures nearly blinded Mu Xing.

He looked at the clearly extraordinary items with confusion.

Yue Fubai beamed:
“My wine-and-meat friends, the ones I don’t usually keep in touch with, insisted on sending gifts when they heard I’d taken a disciple. I couldn’t refuse. Just some ordinary trinkets. There are formations on them—I’ll teach you how to bind them.”

And so, Mu Xing obtained a storage ring—along with a storage ring packed full of “ordinary trinkets.”

At this point, he was still naïve, really believing they were just pretty but useless playthings. He had no idea that, at barely seven years old, he was already one of the richest little lords in the cultivation world.

---

Because Yue Fubai had formally conducted the apprenticeship ceremony, the pretty young ladies in the residence now treated Mu Xing far more reverently.

Though still affectionate, the casual gestures—like ruffling his hair or bending down to kiss his cheek—completely disappeared.

Yue Fubai used to go out frequently, sometimes gone for ten days or half a month. But after taking in this little disciple, he spent most of his time at home.

Yet he didn’t rush to teach Mu Xing much. Instead, he had him begin with The Compassionate Dharma Image.

According to Yue Fubai: Buddhist methods were the most balanced and temperate, slow but steady, perfect as a foundation. He saw nothing wrong with a demonic cultivator using a Buddhist technique to build basics.

He also gave Mu Xing a palm-sized violet jade bottle, filled with a dark purple, misty liquid—something that was very demonic.

Yue Fubai told Mu Xing to drink one drop daily.

The bottle was clearly a magical artifact. Though it looked small, the liquid inside never diminished.

That night, the long-silent system finally woke up, entering Mu Xing’s dreams.

Looking at the child before it, it felt something was… different.

Then, rapidly reviewing Mu Xing’s progress in this world, it was horrified:
“You—how could you be cultivating the Path of Ruthlessness?!”

But Mu Xing looked even more shocked:
“Huh? What Path of Ruthlessness?”

He had asked Yue Fubai what his Dao was, but Yue Fubai only shook his head, telling him:
“You—don’t think too much. Cultivate however you wish. Follow your heart.”

If another pampered seven-year-old disciple had gotten this kind of answer, they’d probably pester endlessly until they got a clear explanation.

But Mu Xing only asked once. Since Yue Fubai told him not to think about it, he really didn’t think about it again.

This reaction only confirmed Yue Fubai’s suspicions, making him feel sure he hadn’t misjudged.

Meanwhile, the glowing orb was acting like the sky had fallen, ignoring Mu Xing’s questions and mumbling over and over:
“How could it be the Path of Ruthlessness? Why did you of all things have to cultivate the Path of Ruthlessness?”

Mu Xing frowned. Seeing it immersed in its own world, he wasn’t impatient. He just sat cross-legged, waiting until the orb had vented enough before calmly asking:
“What Path of Ruthlessness? Am I really cultivating that?”

The orb’s tone carried despair:
“No wonder I could never guide you properly—you’re actually heartless, desireless, emotionless.”

Mu Xing didn’t like that at all.

He said unhappily:
“Who’s heartless and emotionless? That sounds awful.”

The orb flickered violently, like a candle shivering in the wind—Mu Xing feared it might go dark any second.

At last it murmured faintly:
“‘Heartless’ doesn’t mean truly without feelings… You… sigh. They say people aren’t grass or trees—who could truly be without emotion? You…”

Then it suddenly cut off, whispering:
“So that’s how it is.”

Listening to its cryptic rambling, Mu Xing puffed up his cheeks in irritation.

“You’re so annoying. I don’t want to hear you mumble anymore.”

The moment he said it, his awareness snapped out of that strange place.

Mu Xing opened his eyes in bed.

He realized something: at first, the orb could enter his dreams whenever it wished, and only it could let him leave.

But now, it could only appear occasionally, and if Mu Xing wanted to exit, he just needed a single thought.

In other words, the balance of control between him and the orb was shifting—toward him.

Before he could reflect further, a knock came at the door.

Yue Fubai’s voice drifted in from outside:
“Xingxing, are you awake? May I come in?”

He had once wanted to give Mu Xing a more elegant name, but Mu Xing refused to change. Yue Fubai hadn’t forced it.

At first, Yue Fubai had called him “Xing’er,” like other masters called their disciples. But the beautiful sisters in the residence all called him “Young Master Xingxing,” and he found the doubled syllable even cuter.

Mu Xing climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes:
“Master, please come in.”

Yue Fubai entered, moonlight at his back. Though it was deep night, not a single thread of his clothes or hair was out of place.

Coming to the bedside, his expression carried a trace of concern:
“Did you just have a dream?”

Mu Xing paused. Well, being dragged off by the orb could count as a dream.

He nodded.

“What did you dream of?”

Mu Xing thought for a moment, then said:
“A very dark place, and a voice was talking to me.”

He had tried before—he couldn’t tell anyone about the orb’s existence.

“What did it say?”

Mu Xing remembered and looked up at Yue Fubai:
“It said the Dao I cultivate is the Path of Ruthlessness.”

Yue Fubai’s expression instantly chilled.
“Anything else?”

Mu Xing shook his head:
“Then I woke up. And Master came.”

He asked curiously:
“Master, is something wrong?”

Yue Fubai looked down at him, sighed, then unfastened a jade pendant from his waist and handed it over:
“Wear this from now on.”

This pendant was clearly something he treasured. Mu Xing had lived with him long enough to notice that Yue Fubai’s clothes almost never repeated, but this jade had never changed.

Instinctively, Mu Xing refused:
“This is too valuable.”

Yue Fubai replied:
“While I was resting just now, for a moment I sensed your soul had gone adrift. That’s dangerous. If someone tried to seize your body, I might not be able to stop it in time.”

He gathered spiritual energy, condensed a fine cord, strung the jade, and personally hung it around Mu Xing’s neck:
“This has soul-stabilizing power. With it pressing down, no petty spirits or wretches will dare come near.”

Seeing Mu Xing about to protest again, he raised a hand to stop him, tone brooking no refusal:
“I’ve lived many years. You’re my only disciple. If I don’t give you the good things, who else should I give them to?”

Mu Xing blinked—well, when put that way, it did make sense.

Yue Fubai smiled:
“Just focus on cultivating well. Later, when I take you out, you’ll make your master proud.”

Just imagining it filled him with satisfaction: those old fossils all had hundreds of disciples. But what use was quantity? A disciple should be prized for quality, not numbers.

He added:
“Rest now. I’ll leave.”

Mu Xing suddenly remembered and called:
“Master, wait.”

Yue Fubai turned back, only to see his little disciple blinking at him adorably:
“Master, am I really cultivating the Path of Ruthlessness?”

Yue Fubai chuckled:
“More or less. But your level of ‘ruthlessness’ is far above those so-called righteous cultivators who sever their seven emotions or even slay their kin for a shallow ‘lesser ruthless path.’”

Mu Xing admitted honestly:
“Master, I don’t really understand.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.” Yue Fubai tapped his palm with his fan.
“You’re seven years old. If you understood everything already, what would you need me for?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

After confirming their master-disciple relationship, Yue Fubai didn’t rush to teach Mu Xing anything.

Instead, he asked:
“What’s your view of demonic cultivators?”

Mu Xing thought for a moment, then answered based on what the original body had heard from rumors:
“Bad, evil, bloody.”
In short—not good people.

But then he added, “Master isn’t.”

If Yue Fubai hadn’t said so himself, no one would think he was a demonic cultivator.

Yue Fubai smiled and said:
“You’re both right and wrong to say that.”

Mu Xing lifted his gaze to him.

Yue Fubai thought his little disciple’s eyes were exceedingly beautiful. He had always loved beautiful things, and his side had never lacked for lovely women, yet no pair of eyes had ever been more striking than this child’s.

He rubbed Mu Xing’s soft hair and said:
“Demonic cultivators… we cultivate the demonic path. What’s evil isn’t the word ‘demon’—it’s the many cultivators who practice it.”

Mu Xing said nothing.

He wasn’t truly a child, after all—his comprehension was far beyond the average—but he had never heard the things Yue Fubai was saying, so he only focused intently, listening.

Yue Fubai didn’t want to speak too deeply to a child.

After a moment’s thought, he explained:
“In terms of techniques, righteous and demonic cultivators practice methods with no essential difference. The difference lies in the ‘Dao’ one chooses to follow.”

“What is Dao?” Mu Xing asked.

He assumed it would be an abstruse topic.

But Yue Fubai only smiled.
“For us demonic cultivators, ‘Dao’ is simply what you love.”

“Righteous cultivators follow the will of heaven, suppressing all desires. Once they build their foundation, they stop eating, stop seeking pleasure, live in restraint, striving to appear like some imagined ‘immortal.’

But we demonic cultivators—our path is our own heart’s desire. We do as we will. Why should we care about heaven’s will?”

Yue Fubai snapped his folding fan shut, lowered his head, and looked at his new disciple.
“Do you understand what I mean?”

Mu Xing thought for a while, then nodded:
“I understand. But by that logic, there’s nothing wrong with cultivating the demonic path. If that’s so, why are there so many bad stories about demonic cultivators?”

“Because desire is endless.” Yue Fubai said calmly. “For a demonic cultivator, the greatest opponent isn’t heaven—it’s oneself.”

He gave Mu Xing an example.

There were two demonic cultivators who both craved power.

One hid his identity and entered a mortal dynasty. Through the imperial examinations, he advanced step by step into officialdom, and eventually became a high-ranking minister, holding sway over the court.

“Decades mean little to cultivators,” Yue Fubai said. “But isn’t that path terribly slow?”

So the other chose a shortcut.

He used sorcery to bewitch the emperor. The emperor made him national preceptor, second only to the throne, obeying his every word.

In just one month, he became one of the most powerful men in the realm.

But naturally, there were those who opposed him.

Loyal ministers spoke out, upright officials denounced corruption.

In the eyes of a cultivator, mortals were ants. How could he endure it?

He eliminated all who resisted him, reveling in the thrill of absolute power—those who opposed him died.

Within ten years, the once-prosperous empire had become a ruined mess, the people suffering in misery.

Mu Xing pondered deeply.

Yue Fubai didn’t rush him, leisurely sipping his tea.

Suddenly Mu Xing came to.
“Having great power but indulging every desire and whim… That must be why demonic cultivators have such a bad reputation?”

Yue Fubai clapped his hands.
“My disciple is indeed clever!”

Mu Xing’s eyes sparkled as he looked at him.
“So, Master—what is your Dao?

Is it loving beauty? Fine robes? Music, painting, poetry? Elegance?”

He rattled off a list.

Yue Fubai tapped him lightly on the head with his fan.
“For me, I only wish to be a wealthy man of leisure.”

Mu Xing thought about it.
Wasn’t Yue Fubai already exactly that?

“What about me then?” he asked, beginning to consider seriously.

Yue Fubai smiled faintly at the sight of the little boy wrinkling up his round, soft face in thought. At last, he stretched out his hand. In his palm appeared a scroll tied with red cord.

With a casual flick, the scroll unfurled in midair.

Mu Xing stared in surprise. Before he could react, a force pulled him into the painting.

Yue Fubai smirked.
“If you can’t figure it out on your own, let your master help you.”

---

In the bustling city of Yangzhou, the wealthy Mu family welcomed a newborn son.

Mu Xing blinked in confusion.
Did I reincarnate again?

He felt like he had forgotten something, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t recall it.

The little young master was the family’s youngest child, born beautiful and clever, cherished by everyone in the household.

Raised with silk and delicacies, he grew pampered and adored until the age of ten.

One night, lying down to sleep, he heard a voice ask:
“This life of wealth and splendor—do you like it?”

The boy immediately nodded.
“Of course I do.”

But before long, the Mu family offended the powerful, and their fortune collapsed.

The servants scattered, and the pampered young master was sent to the old country estate, where he not only had to fend for himself but also care for his ailing mother.

He didn’t show any discouragement. Since he could read and write, he went to the village scholar’s home to copy books, saving up the small pay he received to buy good food to nourish his family.

Outside the painting scroll, Yue Fubai looked at his little disciple, who could accept poverty so calmly, and silently crossed out another option in his heart.

Mu Xing knew the only way to improve his family’s circumstances was through study. He worked diligently, and at fifteen he passed the provincial exam as a juren. Three years later, at eighteen, he became the youngest top scholar (zhuangyuan).

Riding on horseback through the streets as the zhuangyuan, countless young maidens tossed flowers and handkerchiefs his way. With a lift of his head, he met several bright, hopeful gazes.

“Is there a girl you favor?” the voice at his ear asked again.

Mu Xing’s eyes turned slightly blank. He shook his head:
“No. Romance is so troublesome, so complicated.”

Yue Fubai: “…”

Time kept moving forward.

The young zhuangyuan won the emperor’s appreciation. In only a few short years, he rose rapidly through the Six Ministries. Barely past twenty, he was already a trusted confidant of the throne.

But Yue Fubai, sitting in his chair, frowned.

This disciple of his had a truly strange temperament.

This painting scroll was a magic tool of his. The caster could create an illusion, and those drawn into it would be guided to reveal their truest desires.

It was also a common method demonic cultivators used to help their disciples discover their own Dao.

Yue Fubai had already arranged for the boy to experience all the things mortals most longed for: wealth, beauty, power…

Yet Mu Xing accepted them readily, but showed no particular fondness. When he lost them, he showed no regret.

Yue Fubai even slipped in temptations along the way—music, painting, rare skills, indulgences of every kind.

Still, Mu Xing had no strong attachment to any of them.

Yue Fubai wasn’t anxious. He kept arranging “lives” for his disciple.

Mu Xing’s ailing mother finally could hold on no longer.

Though he did everything he could, even bringing in an imperial physician, he was powerless.

At her passing, his expression was sorrowful as he held the funeral.

During the funeral, the strange voice asked him again:
“Do you feel unwilling?”

Mu Xing replied blankly:
“Why should I?”

“Unwilling that human lives are so short, unwilling that you couldn’t keep the one you wished to keep.”

Mu Xing stood in stunned silence for a while, then said softly:
“Mother left with a smile. I did all I could. I have no regrets.”

Yue Fubai: “…”

He slowly sat straighter.

Mu Xing’s “life” continued.

Because of mourning obligations, Mu Xing had to resign from office and spend three years in filial piety for his mother.

He withdrew from court and returned to his hometown.

The hometown had lovely mountains. On clear days, he often went walking there.

One day, he saw a hunter dragging home a silver wolf.

The wolf wasn’t dead yet, blood flowing, golden eyes staring at Mu Xing with pitiful pleading.

Mu Xing couldn’t bear it:
“This silver wolf is pitiful.”

The hunter retorted:
“My lord, you pity this wolf—but do you pity me? If I don’t hunt this wolf and sell its pelt for silver, my whole family will starve!”

Mu Xing said no more.

Months later, wandering the mountains again, he heard a terrible cry.

It was the same hunter, his shoulder clamped by a mighty silver wolf. He was screaming under the wolf’s fangs.

Seeing Mu Xing holding a sword, the hunter begged for help:
“My lord, please drive this beast away! It’s the mate of the wolf from months ago!”

But Mu Xing did not move.

He quietly watched the hunter die under the wolf’s claws.

The silver wolf gave him one steady look with its golden eyes. Without a word, it dragged away the corpse, just as the hunter had done months before.

A voice asked him:
“Why not save him?”

Mu Xing gazed at the wolf’s lonely back.
“Months ago, I did not save the silver wolf. Why should I save the hunter today?”

The voice said:
“The hunter killed for his family’s livelihood. He had reason.”

Mu Xing said:
“The wolf avenged its mate. It also had reason.”

The voice pressed:
“But the hunter… was human.”

Mu Xing paused, then asked in return:
“So what if he was human?”

The moment he finished, the world spun.

The delicate little boy was flung out of the scroll. Yue Fubai caught him.

His expression was complicated as he looked at Mu Xing.

Mu Xing rubbed his eyes in confusion, not knowing what had just happened.

“Master, what’s wrong?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

The man froze for a moment, then gave Mu Xing a playful look.
“You know what kind of person I am?”

Mu Xing shook his head honestly.

The man tilted his head.
“You don’t even know who I am, and you’re not afraid I might harm you?”

Mu Xing didn’t hide anything.
“I’m very sensitive to goodwill and malice. You won’t hurt me.”

“Interesting.” The man sat upright on the couch, gazing steadily at Mu Xing.
“Come here.”

Mu Xing obeyed and walked over.

A cool fingertip pressed against his brow.

In just an instant, it withdrew.

“Who could be so cruel as to dig out a child’s spiritual root?” The man lowered his eyes to him.
“I thought you were just an ordinary street beggar, but it seems your background isn’t so simple either. What’s your name?”

“My name is Mu Xing.”

Then he added:
“I gave myself that name.”

“I am Yue Fubai, a demonic cultivator.” The man’s gaze carried a faint smile as he looked at him teasingly.
“Do you know what a demon cultivator is? Aren’t you afraid?”

Mu Xing nodded, then shook his head.

“What does that mean?” Yue Fubai raised an eyebrow.

Even a beggar child could hear plenty of stories from the streets. And in mortal tales, demon cultivators never had a good reputation.

Mu Xing answered honestly:
“I’ve heard some rumors about demon cultivators. They were scary. But you don’t seem like a bad person.”

“Oh?”

Mu Xing countered,
“Rumors aren’t always true. Where I begged, there was a very kind Lord Wang, everyone in Yuezhou said he was a rare good man. But a little beggar I knew once accidentally bumped into his carriage during the day—and that night, he was beaten to death in an alley.”

The child’s clear eyes looked at him seriously.
“You may be a demon cultivator, but you saved me. Otherwise, I would have died of illness. So I’m not afraid of you.”

This time, Yue Fubai was genuinely surprised.

He sized Mu Xing up from head to toe, then finally nodded.
“Then follow me for now.”

With that, he rose from the couch. With a wave of his hand, the couch vanished without a trace.

He extended a hand toward Mu Xing.
“Hold on to me.”

Mu Xing glanced at his own dirty, grimy little hand, then at the jade-like, pampered hand before him. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed onto the sleeve.

Yue Fubai chuckled softly.
“Hold tight.”

As the words fell, he stepped forward. The ground shrank beneath them—thousands of miles passed in an instant.

Mu Xing’s vision blurred. When he regained his bearings, they were already in a grand residence.

The estate was vast. A blossoming tree stood in the courtyard, delicate palace lanterns hung all around, and faint laughter and music drifted from the carved pavilions and painted corridors.

Everywhere was refined and magnificent.

“Master is back!” a clear female voice rang out.

That call was like flipping a switch. In the next moment, fragrance filled the air, and more than a dozen gorgeously dressed beauties with cloudlike hair and flowerlike faces rushed over from all directions, encircling Yue Fubai in the center.

Mu Xing—

“Ah-choo!” He sneezed ungracefully.

“Master,” the leading lady in red covered the corner of her mouth with a fan, her eyes brimming with charm. “Where did this little young master come from?”

Yue Fubai laughed, plucking the fan from her hand and lightly sniffing it.
“Again wasting the snow orchid I’ve been cultivating?”

The red-clad beauty pouted coyly.
“How can you call it wasting? Hong Ling specially prepared the fragrance for Master. So—is it fragrant or not?”

Yue Fubai sighed.
“Your courage grows bigger by the day. You only dare because you know I can’t bear to punish you.”

He pointed at Mu Xing.
“Take him, wash him thoroughly, and change his clothes.”

At once, Mu Xing was surrounded by fragrant, beautiful young women, who carried him off to a spacious chamber. To his shock, the residence even had hot springs.

This thigh seemed pretty thick indeed!

Soon, like a helpless little squirrel, he was stripped and scrubbed from head to toe until he was spotless.

Afterward, the young ladies applied some fragrant ointment whose effects he didn’t know.

When he lay on the soft couch and the gentle girls dried his hair, Mu Xing was half-dazed: this treatment felt… downright decadent.

Once his hair was mostly dry, the red-dressed beauty from earlier entered with something in her hands.

It turned out to be clothes for him. Who knew where she had procured them in the middle of the night?

Mu Xing was dressed in a little sapphire-blue robe. His hair, neglected from malnutrition and filth, had been trimmed, and now two short tufts were tied up into little pigtails atop his head.

“Ah, as expected, Master’s eye for beauty is unmatched.” Hong Ling clapped her hands joyfully at the sight of Mu Xing, who looked like a fair little immortal child, and couldn’t resist bending down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Mu Xing: “…”

He rubbed his face helplessly as Hong Ling led him back to Yue Fubai.

Yue Fubai looked him over with satisfaction.

“Take him to rest.”

Mu Xing blinked, his eyes fixed on Yue Fubai.

Yue Fubai chuckled mischievously.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you want to sleep with me?”

With a suave flick of his fan, he smiled gracefully.
“That won’t do. A spring night is too precious. If I spent it with you, the beauties would all complain.”

Mu Xing: “…”

What could he do?

Of course, he could only pretend he didn’t understand a thing and follow the pretty sister away.

---

And so, Mu Xing began living in Yue Fubai’s residence.

To be honest, if Yue Fubai hadn’t said it himself, Mu Xing would never have guessed this man was a demonic cultivator.

He looked every bit the elegant young lord from a family steeped in nobility—refined, cultured, romantic, and talented.

His days were leisurely: if not surrounded by beauties with music and dance, then alone composing poetry or painting.

The household itself was exquisitely run. Thinking back carefully, Mu Xing realized: compared to that past life when Ah Yue treated him like fragile porcelain, this really wasn’t any worse.

It must have been Yue Fubai’s command, because everyone in the residence treated Mu Xing as a proper young master, pampering him at every turn. The meals were delicate, the clothing never repeated for a month.

One day, Yue Fubai called Mu Xing over and asked,
“How do you find life here?”

Mu Xing replied,
“Very comfortable.”

Yue Fubai smiled.
“Honest of you. Do you like this kind of life?”

Mu Xing nodded.
“I like it.” After all, who wouldn’t?

“Anything you’re unhappy with?”

Mu Xing hesitated, but still chose honesty.
“The sisters… are a little too enthusiastic.”

“Hahahaha…” Yue Fubai suddenly burst into laughter.

Under Mu Xing’s confused gaze, he said,
“Yet from what I’ve seen, you don’t seem particularly fond of this life.”

Before Mu Xing could ask, his expression chilled inexplicably.
“Since you don’t love a young master’s life, then be my servant.”

Mu Xing: “?”

Just like that, his fine clothes were stripped away, his quarters moved to a remote little room.

No hot spring, no soft feather bed, no beautiful sisters to care for him.

Worse, Yue Fubai often summoned him to serve tea, grind ink, or stand by while he painted.

At meals, he would make Mu Xing watch him feast on delicacies, then send him back to eat ordinary food.

Mu Xing had no idea what he’d done to offend him.

Still, the man never went too far.

And Mu Xing was open-hearted: Yue Fubai had saved his life, after all, and had no obligation to raise him as a pampered young master. Serving as a study attendant wasn’t so bad; he could even do something useful, which felt like repaying a little kindness.

As for food and clothing—though not as extravagant, he lacked nothing.

Compared to life as a beggar, this was paradise. He had nothing to complain about.

Each day he found joy for himself. When Yue Fubai painted, Mu Xing watched. The man’s skill was extraordinary, and observing him was a pleasure in itself.

Back in his little room, Mu Xing silently practiced the body-strengthening methods from the Xiaoyao Sect book. And indeed, he felt some effect.

---

Another month passed.

One day, while Mu Xing was meditating, Yue Fubai appeared out of thin air.

“What are you practicing?” he asked.

Mu Xing wasn’t surprised he noticed—after all, this was a world of cultivation.

“A book I picked up as a child,” Mu Xing answered. “It had some methods for strengthening the body.”

Yue Fubai didn’t ask how he could read, just as he had never asked about Mu Xing’s background.

Instead, he studied Mu Xing’s face. Over the past two months, though he had seemed indulgent, he had been observing him closely all along.

“I relegated you to a servant’s life,” Yue Fubai asked. “Do you resent me for it?”

Mu Xing shook his head.

“Why not resent me?”

Mu Xing looked at him oddly.
“Why should I resent you?”

“Because you went from being waited on as a young master to waiting on others as a servant.”

“But,” Mu Xing said, “I was just a beggar with nothing to eat to begin with.”

Yue Fubai gazed into those still-clear eyes.

Two months of vastly different living conditions, and yet not a trace of shadow lingered in them.

Suddenly, he laughed.
“Good boy!”

He stepped forward, once more extending his hand.
“Would you be willing to take me as your master?”

The child’s eyes widened in surprise, confusion flickering across his face. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out.

This time, Mu Xing didn’t tug on his sleeve. He placed his chubby little hand firmly into Yue Fubai’s palm.

“Master!” Mu Xing called crisply.

A smile flickered in Yue Fubai’s eyes.
“You heard him—what a good disciple.”

He led Mu Xing out of the room, ordered a lavish banquet to be set, and solemnly celebrated taking in a new pupil.

Only then did Mu Xing, belatedly, realize: so those past two months had all been a test.

Only lofty figures acted with such eccentricity.

Mu Xing thought happily to himself: Looks like I really did latch onto a golden thigh this time.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

ARC 4: As a Naturally Aloof Person, I’m Actually a Ruthless Cultivator

“This child has such a pretty face.”

“Ah Ning, want to take him in as a little servant?”

“No way! This beggar is filthy!”

Mu Xing only felt both chilled and feverish, his head dizzy.

It seemed he was lying on cold, hard ground. Through the haze, he sensed someone approach, set something down beside him, then leave.

He struggled to open his eyes, catching sight of an ornate carriage, bells strung at its corners, chiming ding-ding-dang-dang as it rolled into the snowy distance.

Then everything sank back into darkness.

When he woke again, the dizziness had eased.

Opening his eyes, he realized he was in a new place.

Beneath him was soft hay, and before him a small fire burned warmly. Across the flames sat a man dressed in elegant, richly embroidered robes, refined and dignified in bearing.

This was absolutely not the kind of man one expected to find in a ruined temple at midnight.

Though he did not look over, the man clearly knew he was awake:
“There’s food in the bundle beside you.”

Mu Xing’s stomach was burning with hunger. He scrambled up, spotting a small cyan cloth bundle.

The fabric was smooth and fine, better than the clothes on his own body. Inside were several cooled meat buns and a few delicately made pastries.

The same food given to him earlier, from that carriage.

Instead of eating first, Mu Xing said to the strange man:
“Thank you for saving me.”

Obviously, this man had rescued him.

The man pulled out a wine jug from who knows where, pouring himself a drink. At Mu Xing’s words, he glanced over and smiled:
“No need to thank me. Thank your parents instead—for giving you such a beautiful face.”

Mu Xing: ?

The man sighed:
“Alas, I’m not a good person. I just can’t bear to see a pretty beauty in misery.”

A little beauty is still a beauty, after all.

Mu Xing found the man very strange, but said nothing more. He wolfed down two massive buns, each nearly half the size of his face, before burping contentedly.

He must have just recovered from illness. Though newly awake, after eating he felt drowsy again.

The man watched him nodding off like a sleepy little animal, and felt a strange fondness.

“Sleep then, sleep.” He looked at Mu Xing kindly. “Today, this Young Master Bai is feeling charitable, I’ll watch over you for the night.”

Mu Xing drifted into slumber without worry. He didn’t yet understand what situation he was in, but his instincts told him this man was very powerful—and had no malice toward him.

Besides, even if he did, with his weak body now, resistance was impossible.

In sleep, Mu Xing felt someone feed him something.

A sugar-like pellet melted in his mouth, turning into warm, sweet liquid that slid into his stomach, suffusing his body with comforting heat.

He sank into deeper dreams.

The light orb finally appeared.

Mu Xing’s consciousness floated free, becoming a ghost invisible to all, witnessing the entire life of a “demon.”

---

In the immortal sect Yu Dao Sect, the headmaster and his wife, together for a hundred years, at last conceived a child.

It should have been a joyous event. But on the eve of the birth, the head of Tianji Tower—the cultivator world’s foremost seer of fate—visited in the night.

He declared that the child carried the fate of the Heaven-Smiting Lone Star, destined to curse kin and friends alike, bringing ruin to all close to him.

And that very night, the sect mistress went into labor. Draining all her spiritual power, she birthed a son—barely clinging to life herself.

For cultivators, a difficult labor was nearly unheard of. This confirmed the seer’s words, and the headmaster couple believed him utterly.

The newborn possessed peerless spiritual roots, a gift of heaven—yet what should have been a blessing became their burden.

Mu Xing watched as the righteous couple debated through the night. By dawn, they had made their decision.

They could not kill him, so they destroyed his spiritual root, carried him down by sword-flight, and abandoned the infant in a mortal dynasty’s bustling marketplace.

There, a kind couple who ran a bun shop adopted the exquisite little boy, raising him with care until the age of three.

But one day, the husband was beaten to death in a business dispute with a drunken noble wastrel. His pregnant wife, struck by grief, miscarried and died as well.

The boy became an orphan once more.

No one would adopt him again. Neighbors whispered that he was cursed.

He became a beggar child.

At seven, he met a kindly old man, who asked if he would come away with him.

Overjoyed, the boy agreed.

But he didn’t know—the old man was a demonic cultivator. He only wanted the boy’s body. Even stripped of spiritual roots, it was still an exceptionally rare innate spiritual vessel.

The poor child was locked in a lightless underground chamber, force-fed precious elixirs, his body wracked by surging, chaotic spiritual power—forever at the brink of collapse.

That demonic cultivator was a cannibal, planning to raise him as a living medicine and, at fifteen, stew him in herbs for his feast.

The beggar boy seized his chance and killed the old demon first, inheriting his cultivation method. Alone, he began to train.

His talent was indeed monstrous. Within mere decades, he had risen to fame as a notorious demon lord.

He had been raised by a demon in such an abnormal way, with no one to teach him right from wrong. If he wanted something, he seized it; if someone refused, he killed. He became steeped in immeasurable sin.

Later, that face of his was recognized by the righteous sects. Bloodlines were traced, and it turned out he was the son of the Yu Dao Sect’s headmaster.

Of course, Yu Dao Sect would never acknowledge him. The headmaster even believed the Tianji Tower master had been absolutely correct: this Heaven-Smiting Lone Star was destined to bring disaster, kill countless people, and invite endless trouble. He should have been killed at birth.

That coldness and murderous intent from his own kin ground away the last shred of humanity in the beggar boy.

In a world-shaking battle, he single-handedly slaughtered most of Yu Dao Sect. The headmaster and his wife also died by his hand. In the end, he himself was besieged and killed by Tianji Tower leading the righteous sects.

Because of this, the Tianji Tower master’s fame soared. Everyone knew he had warned Yu Dao Sect long ago: had they dealt with this demon at birth, such tragedy would never have occurred.

Indeed, a Heaven-Smiting Lone Star!

But that wasn’t the end.

The light orb reappeared, showing Mu Xing another scene.

In the cold, ethereal Tianji Tower, the Tower Master gazed at the star wheel above, murmuring:
“I long to ascend, yet the path ahead is fraught with barriers. By ordinary cultivation, I fear I’ll never touch the immortal way.”

His talent was limited; ascension was beyond reach. Day and night, he divined, until at last he glimpsed a thread of chance.

If cultivation was lacking, merit could make up for it.

And how to gain merit?

By slaying demons.

His eyes turned eastward. He had once glimpsed the Yu Dao Sect mistress when she was pregnant. Spiritual radiance swirled around her belly. With his fate-seeing eyes, he had seen that child’s boundless, brilliant future.

And so he gave birth to a wicked thought.

One thought—and it ruined an entire life.

Mu Xing’s eyes flew open!

The man, who had somehow procured a soft couch for himself and was lounging while eating candied fruits, tilted his head curiously:
“Your emotions are fluctuating a lot. Bad dream?”

Mu Xing shut his eyes again, calming his thoughts.

Wasn’t that exactly a nightmare?

The beggar boy in that dream was himself.

And by his reckoning, he was now precisely seven years old. Perhaps the demonic cultivator who picked him up in that life was already on the way.

Drawing a deep breath, Mu Xing suddenly turned his head, fixing his gaze on the man.

The man looked back at him, puzzled.
“What is it?”

Mu Xing widened his eyes, blinking innocently, then broke into a bright smile that showed eight tiny teeth:
“Big brother, the moment I saw you, I felt especially close to you. Would you be willing to take in a homeless boy like me?”

Though the man looked no different from a wealthy young master of the mortal world, Mu Xing could faintly sense the powerful aura hidden within him.

If he didn’t cling to a golden thigh now—then when?

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Mu Xing went to see his mother.

Madam Zhu Lanjun was a strong career woman. After her divorce, she founded her own independent jewelry design brand, which had since become one of the top names in the country.

She never remarried, but she did have a boyfriend with whom she shared a good relationship—he was half a peer, a fashion designer.

When she heard Mu Xing’s reason for visiting, surprisingly, although a little caught off guard, Zhu Lanjun was very supportive.

That surprised Mu Xing. “You don’t blame me?”

Zhu Lanjun glanced at her lively, healthy son. “Blame you? Do you know what it felt like when your mother heard you’d been in a car accident, rushed to the hospital, and saw you pale as death on that bed—while the doctor told me you might never stand again?”

At that moment, all thoughts of wealth, ambition, and striving had been thrown aside.

She would have gladly given up her life’s work in exchange for her son’s health.

So, when she heard Mu Xing come to her on his own, saying he wanted to rest, she wasn’t upset—she was relieved.

She patted Mu Xing’s hand. “Don’t overthink. Come look at the new nails I just had done—aren’t they pretty?”

Mu Xing bent down seriously to study them, then nodded. “Pretty!”

“My son has good taste!” Zhu Lanjun beamed. “Since you want to rest, then it’s perfect timing—Mom will give herself a break too. We’ll enjoy some proper mother-son time together.”

Ever since Mu Xing had grown up, the two had each been busy with their careers. Even when they met, it was only briefly. It was rare to truly spend time together.

“Alright,” Mu Xing agreed.

For the next half year, he accompanied Madam Zhu Lanjun across half the world.

They had plenty of time and certainly no lack of money. They ate, drank, and shopped their way around the globe, even buying a number of properties along the way.

As Madam Zhu put it: “That way, next time we visit, it’ll be convenient.”

When they finally returned home, she told him, “If you don’t want your father’s company, then don’t take it! Anyway, all of Mom’s assets and company will be yours. If you don’t want to manage it, I’ll arrange everything—you can just hold the shares and collect the money.”

Mu Xing: “…Aren’t you afraid I’ll squander it all?”

Madam Zhu waved a hand grandly. “Then squander it. What do you think I worked so hard for? It’s for us to spend. If it’s all gone, go find your father. Even if you don’t want the company, the shares of Zhaoxing that belong to you will still be yours.”

Mu Xing looked at her.

She was no longer young; time had left marks on her face. Yet her eyes were youthful, vibrant, bright and clear.

Still the elegant, charming beauty she had always been.

He thought back to the memories of the original Mu Xing—how, after breaking his leg, he had fallen into constant torment.

He may not have tortured Qin Leyi or Cheng Qian too much, but he had certainly tormented himself and his family.

In those memories, when Mu Xing committed suicide, Madam Zhu had already aged a great deal. Each time she came to visit her son, her exhausted face was forced into a smile.

Perhaps Mu Xing hadn’t been unaware—he had simply walked himself into a dead end.

He couldn’t let others go, and couldn’t let himself go either.

He wondered what had become of Madam Zhu, in that original timeline, after her son’s suicide.

And his father, the old man—whose health was already poor, and whose most hopeful son had left before him…

“Son?” Zhu Lanjun waved a hand in front of his eyes. “What are you thinking about? We need to get through security.”

Mu Xing came back to himself. Looking at his fashionable mother, he couldn’t help but pull her into a strong hug.

She froze, then patted his back. “Xingxing?”

Mu Xing let go, smiling with his eyes curved. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to hug you.”

He whispered, “I’ll be a good son, Mom. I’ll make sure you never shed tears for me again for the rest of your life.”

Those words warmed Zhu Lanjun to her very core. Smiling broadly, she hooked her arm through her handsome son’s and walked on.

Neither noticed a fellow traveler in line behind them snapping a photo of the moment.

So when Mu Xing dropped his mother at her residence and drove home, the first thing he met—besides his stepmother’s friendly smile—was his father’s glare.

Mu Xing: ?

He asked curiously, “Dad, who upset you?”

Mu Shao kept his head down, snickering silently. Shao Jiayan called him to sit down, not even bothering to spare the grumpy old man a glance. “Don’t mind him. Come eat.”

Mu Yuanjing: “Hmph!”

Seeing his stepmother and brother acting like that, Mu Xing knew it couldn’t be anything serious. The old man was just stewing over something.

So he sat down and ate with an easy heart, even remembering to ladle his father a bowl of soup.

He got another glare for his efforts—but Mu Yuanjing still finished the soup.

After dinner, Mu Xing pulled his brother aside to ask quietly, “What’s wrong? Is Dad mad at me?”

Baffled, he added, “I just got back. I didn’t do anything to upset him, did I?”

Mu Shao eyed his brother’s rosy complexion and vibrant energy, proof of a carefree life, and felt a stab of jealousy.

He rubbed his own face, suddenly feeling that maybe being the big boss wasn’t all that happy after all.

“You’ve been traveling everywhere with Aunt Zhu, haven’t you? Hardly ever calling home. Today someone snapped a photo of you two at the airport, and it’s already on the trending searches.”

He said tactfully, “Dad saw it, so he wasn’t happy.”

Mu Xing was confused. “Huh?”

He opened his phone, clicked on Weibo, and sure enough, saw the trending topic.

The post came from an ordinary user.

Super Mary Says V: Today I ran into Mu Xing, the eldest young master of the Mu family, at the airport. He’s so handsome in person! And his mom is so stylish and elegant! I didn’t expect someone who seems a little cold would hug his mom and whisper to her—the contrast is adorable! His smile was so warm. [photo] [photo] [photo]

The photos showed him hugging Zhu Lanjun and leaning close to whisper something to her.

Both mother and son were smiling brightly in the pictures.

【Wow, Young Master Mu’s height is insane, he really stands out in a crowd.】
【This man is seriously handsome. I heard after his legs healed he didn’t return to the family business, that he’d been kicked out by his stepmother and brother, but look—he seems to be living pretty happily.】
【That smile, wsl, my husband is too handsome.】
【I’ve been slain by this side profile and smile. Daily reminder that Qin Leyi was blind—how could you not be satisfied with a man like this?】
【I’m calling her ‘mother-in-law’ first!】

Mu Xing finished reading and still didn’t see anything worth his father’s anger.

He looked at Mu Shao in puzzlement.

Mu Shao sighed when he saw Mu Xing still didn’t get it. “Dad’s jealous.”

Mu Xing: ?

With a belly full of confusion and amusement, he went upstairs and knocked on the door of the old man’s study.

Mu Yuanjing was feeding his goldfish. When he saw Mu Xing enter, he neither spoke nor acknowledged him.

Remembering what Mu Shao had said made Mu Xing want to laugh.

He walked over. “Dad, how’s your health lately?”

Mu Yuanjing shot him a sideways look, snorted, and said, “I can eat and drink, not dying yet.”

Mu Xing grinned. “I bought you a gift.”

Mu Yuanjing snorted again. “Oh? You still remember to buy me gifts?”

Mu Xing rubbed his nose. He really wasn’t good at this kind of passive-aggressive sparring.

So he went straight to the point: “Mu Shao said you’re envious I traveled with my mom?”

“Who’s envious?” The old man nearly jumped.

He put on a stern face. “I’m just a father disappointed that I raised such a useless son.”

Mu Xing just kept smiling at him—until the old man’s face started to twitch, and he grew flustered and angry. “What are you laughing at?”

Mu Xing cleared his throat. “I was thinking—this time Mom and I went to a few really nice places, great for health and vacations. Dad, do you want to go too? We can take Aunt Shao too.”

Mu Yuanjing muttered, “You just went, what’s the point of going again? Not going, not going.”

Yet despite those words, when winter came, the three of them—father, stepmother, and son—packed their bags and happily went to the hot spring resort Mu Xing had mentioned.

Leaving behind Mu Shao, who was stuck in endless meetings and business trips: ??? So… love does fade, right?

*

When spring arrived, Mu Xing had a dream.

The long-vanished mysterious light orb reappeared.

It was furious. “Qin Leyi got back together with Cheng Qian.”

Mu Xing: ?

The orb raged, “Those two dogs—how can you not take revenge? How can you not vent your hatred?”

When it didn’t hear Mu Xing reply, it looked at him strangely, then checked on the task progress in this world.

Two minutes later—

A piercing shriek split the air:

“Ahhhh—”

“I was only gone a little while, and your legs healed on their own? Fine, but why did you hand the company over to Mu Shao?”

The orb, sounding like it had taken a heavy blow, demanded, “Don’t you want revenge? Don’t you want to destroy those two? As a man, wealth, power, ambition—they’re your greatest halo! How can you give it all up?”

Mu Xing looked at it curiously. “Weren’t you fine before? Why are you having another episode?”

The orb: “…”

Mu Xing: “As long as I live happily, what do you care who I give the company to?”

“And besides—” he thought of his silly younger brother with a hint of pity, “—what’s the point of running a company? It wears you down to death. Mu Shao’s not even thirty, and I swear his hairline’s already receding.”

He shook his head, sighing. “So tragic.”

The orb: “…”

Hit again, it fled from Mu Xing’s dream and sulked in silence.

As for what it had said—that Qin Leyi and Cheng Qian were together again—Mu Xing didn’t care in the slightest.

To him, those two had long since become irrelevant passersby.

But not long after, he heard the news of Cheng Qian’s engagement.

The bride-to-be was a wealthy heiress, a perfect social match, and had nothing to do with Qin Leyi.

Mu Xing was honestly surprised. After such a huge scandal, someone was still willing to marry Cheng Qian?

The Mu family received an invitation to the wedding—but none of them went. Everyone knew the two families had long since fallen out.

Soon after the marriage, Mu Xing heard gossip in elite circles: No wonder the bride agreed—Cheng Qian’s family had been hiding a one-year-old illegitimate daughter.

They’d kept it under wraps before the wedding, but now it had come to light.

This “green hat” on Cheng Qian’s head was loud and spectacular—far more dramatic than anything Mu Xing had faced back then.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Sandy: next chapter Pw is green hat