When Meng Henshui was discharged, Jiang Yan and the others had already returned to Jiangcheng.
The subsequent matters were all handled by designated personnel at the Supernatural Administration Bureau.
Three points are particularly worth mentioning.
First, the weasel spirit took a shortcut on the path to becoming human and eventually immortal through the practice of seeking enfeoffment. Whether yao or nature spirit, one should focus on their own cultivation; shortcuts are not the right path.
So Abbot He Qingyuan personally intervened to retrieve Meng Henshui’s karmic bonds of a hundred lifetimes and bestowed the weasel spirit another opportunity.
Second, taking revenge without authorization is never the right way. No matter what, Meng Henshui held more than a dozen lives in her hands—those people may have deserved death, but it was still the wrong path. Now, Meng Henshui bears the weight of significant karma, and her fortune for the rest of her life is severed.
Following a final negotiation by the Bureau, since Meng Henshui is now aware of its existence, she must work as maintenance staff for the Bureau for the rest of her life. For every person she helps, an assigned specialist will erase a bit of her karma. If she works diligently, she may be able to clear the heavy karma before she dies.
The first portion of karma erased by the Bureau belonged to Su Zhiyu.
With help from the Bureau’s upper echelons, Meng Henshui conversed with Su Zhiyu—who was queuing in the cycle of reincarnation. The details were private, but she received Su Zhiyu’s forgiveness, or rather, Su Zhiyu had never blamed her from the start.
This morning, the truth behind Su Zhiyu’s death was broadcast publicly on CCTV. C University gave her the title of honorary alumna and hung her portrait in a corridor of the teaching building.
Third, the spirits of Meng Zhaolin and Zhang Chenxi are already locked in the interrogation chamber. Not only them, but the souls of people like Meng Xiangjiang will also soon be summoned.
Meng Henshui is now working as maintenance staff in the interrogation chamber. Presumably, before their souls shatter, those people will suffer endless years of pain.
After coming back from Changxia City, Jiang Yan spent a few idle days at home.
Now, not only Changxia City—Jiangcheng’s streets and alleys were all abuzz about the case in Changxia. On a trip to the morning market, Jiang Yan overheard only the names of those people.
“Having a dad like Meng Zhaolin is like eight generations’ worth of bad luck!”
“Can you believe someone intentionally let their own daughter be trafficked? Poor Chunhong, such a sweet girl…”
“Meng Zhaolin held such a high office; no telling how many people he’s sold off. Dying is too easy for him!”
“I heard that reporter Su Zhiyu’s case got overturned too—she was pushed to the edge by Meng Xiangjiang, Meng Zhaolin’s dad, and fell by accident.”
“I know about this, my daughter said Su Zhiyu had a friend named Cheng Yue, who wrote to Changxia City’s Public Security Bureau every year asking for the video of the fall, never got any answer… That bureau’s getting a shakeup now, too!”
“This time, so many major old cases were dug up at once. I saw on the news that when they dug up that Li underground palace, a woman in her sixties fainted on the spot. Her daughter’s name was something An…”
“Talking about that palace makes me furious. Damn it, so many girls in their prime locked up and killed. The culprit should have been executed in a thousand cuts!”
“By the way… I’m curious, how did all these cases come to light at the same time?”
“Yeah, reopening old cases is never easy.”
“Who cares, anyway? It’s a great thing—all those buried cases brought to light, the wronged cleared, the criminals caught. Who needs to ask so many questions?”
“True, the weather’s really nice today.”
Indeed, the weather was great.
Jiang Yan slowed her steps and looked up at the sky.
Maybe it was because everyone was crying out for justice—today the sky above felt much clearer. It was no longer murky, no longer tangled with battling desires.
The sky shifted from red to gray-blue.
Jiang Yan gazed into the distance; the edge of the gray-blue slowly turned red, and far off, the sky was still blood red. She shook her head and used her yao power to suppress her gifted ability.
Now, the sky in her eyes turned blue-green, looking no different from what everyone else could see.
But Jiang Yan knew that this was fake—at least for her, it was.
After buying fruit and vegetables, Jiang Yan stopped suppressing her ability, walking slowly back home under the gray-blue sky. Jiangcheng’s morning market didn’t close until ten, so she hadn’t risen early; it was exactly half past ten when she got home.
The community was lively, with many old folks playing with children on the slides.
One elderly woman caught sight of Jiang Yan, her eyes lighting up: “Hey—”
Jiang Yan: ?
“I heard from Sister Wang about you. You’re that girl who’s fallen into the sewer twice—I’d recognize you anywhere!” The old lady was exceedingly enthusiastic. “Caught you at last! Have you fallen in today, huh?”
Jiang Yan stated simply: “You seem quite excited.”
The old lady denied it repeatedly: “Definitely your imagination, I couldn’t care less. Buddha would scold me if I did.”
Jiang Yan knew she was lying, but the woman was so brazen she didn’t care what Jiang Yan believed. She continued, “So, did you fall in or not?”
“Regrettably,” Jiang Yan said coolly, “no.”
The disappointment on the old woman’s face was plain as day. She gave way, muttering, “Well, next time you do…”
Jiang Yan perfunctorily agreed: “I’ll do my best next time.”
The old lady nodded fiercely. “Don’t forget!”
“Sigh, you don’t understand. When you’re old, you get bored. Looking after my little grandson all day is exhausting, nothing to look forward to—I need something to hope for!”
Used as a hopeful symbol, Jiang Yan remained silent in understanding.
Back home, Jiang Yan followed online cooking videos to make two dishes. They tasted mediocre, but at least the kitchen survived intact. She’d used too little water making rice, though, so the grains were hard.
After chipping her teeth twice, Jiang Yan searched the monthly salary for a housekeeper on her phone.
“………..”
Never mind.
She turned off her phone.
Not like it would kill her. No need to hire a housekeeper—definitely unnecessary.
Thinking about that five-figure salary, Jiang Yan finished all the rice and washed up, then headed to the bedroom.
She didn’t wake until four in the afternoon. After some fruit, Jiang Yan changed her clothes and headed out.
The twins had invited her, saying today was their birthday; would she come?
Jiang Yan hadn’t planned on agreeing, but after ten wailing voice messages from Shen Xiaoxiao, her head had started to pound.
Shen Xiaoxiao had already sent her the location.
Jiang Yan flagged down a cab by the roadside, gave the driver the address, and failed to notice the driver’s startled look.
A moment later, Shen Xiaoxiao sent a photo of the ticket.
“Jiang Yan-jie! My sister and I are waiting for you at the entrance. If you don’t spot us, just scan this QR code at the entrance. Our seats are together, so we’ll see you inside either way!”
Jiang Yan glanced at the ticket photo and turned off her phone.
A few breaths later, as if something occurred to her, she frowned and opened the photo again, tapping in.
At the very top of the ticket, there was a discreet line of small print:
[Italy’s Got Talent: Pole Strip Show. He dares to strip—do you dare to come?]
Jiang Yan: ?
Pole strip show.
Pole—wasn’t that used for hitting people? Strip—maybe for being hit with a pole. And what’s a strip show?
Jiang Yan realized she didn’t quite get modern society. She immediately searched for it.
Fifteen minutes later, Jiang Yan slowly looked away from the phone video.
“Are you sure I don’t have to pay you?” Jiang Yan asked.
“Of course not!! I’m treating you!!” Shen Xiaoxiao screamed in the chat, “Tonight’s theme is all about the sisterhood!!!”
The string of exclamation marks gave Jiang Yan a headache, but she replied, “Thank you, you’re a good friend.”
Just then, they arrived. The driver gently pulled up at the curb.
There were already hundreds gathered outside the pole dance venue, and though it wasn’t cold, the twins wearing sunglasses and masks at the VIP entrance were as eye-catching as celebrities sneaking in.
When Jiang Yan got out, Shen Xiaoxiao spotted her instantly, waving and bouncing. “Jiang Yan-jie!”
Jiang Yan lowered her eyes and walked over faster than usual.
Shen Huanhuan pulled down her glasses, smiling at Jiang Yan with crinkled eyes.
“Xiaoxiao’s so excited.”
“I noticed,” Jiang Yan replied coolly. “Happy birthday.”
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded wildly, grinning so hard her head seemed set to fall off. “Thanks! Let’s go in, let’s go in!”
Their three tickets were the best VIP seats.
Put simply: front row, center.
Once seated, Shen Xiaoxiao grinned and looked around like a thief, then suddenly pulled out a fat sheaf of pink bills from her coat pocket!
She shoved them into Jiang Yan’s hands. “Jiang Yan-jie, you’re an adult—you can enjoy this!”
“Hm?” Jiang Yan was at a loss.
Shen Xiaoxiao explained bashfully, “It’s like this—open and stuff the money in, then let go.”
She mimed with her forefinger—a nine, then straight, then a nine again. “Like this, slip it in, then let it bounce back.”
Shen Huanhuan looked scandalized. “Jiang Yan-jie might not like this.”
Shen Xiaoxiao: “How could anyone not like it!”
Jiang Yan ignored them.
She opened her slim little pocket, stuffed the money inside, and let go.
She could hire a cooking lady now.
Just then, Jiang Yan relaxed, her mood growing lighter. She leaned back and waited for the show to start.
Soon, the stage lights blazed. Yellow-green spotlights flashed, and a beam shone on a multi-meter-tall pole at center stage. Under flashing colors, the pole gleamed, and the pulsating beat swelled—
A man in a black tank top ascended from below, body pulsing to the music, caramel-colored fingers rhythmically tapping on the pole.
The crowd went wild!
Shen Xiaoxiao stood waving her arms, screaming and hitting Jiang Yan’s arm. On stage, the man fixed his gaze on the VIP seats and winked at the most excited lady.
Clutching her heart, Shen Xiaoxiao sank back into her seat.
“I’m broad-minded,” she said. “I have to restrain myself—I can’t be moved by just one man.”
No sooner had she spoken than a dozen men appeared at the edge of the stage—all in matching black tank tops, some with slung-on suit jackets. They entered center stage in staggered steps, slowly donning black leather gloves they’d slipped from their pockets.
Shen Xiaoxiao’s eyes sparkled. “Suit-clad criminals—I love it!!”
“But can a suit rip that easily? Wouldn’t it be hard?” she wondered aloud.
Ever since tank-top guy appeared, Shen Huanhuan’s eyes hadn’t found anywhere safe to rest. At this, though, she snuck a peek at the stage. “It…it’s fine. Maybe…they’re strong…?”
Shen Xiaoxiao, lost in the screamfest, didn’t hear, but Jiang Yan did.
She cast a brand new look to her right. Shen Huanhuan, cheeks crimson, was staring at the stage.
The pole dance began in earnest. The lead dancer mounted the pole, and over a dozen handsome, fit men walked toward the front row as they shed layers to the sound of tearing cloth. In a twinkling, tank tops rippled into straps, bare abs veiled and revealed by fluttering rag strips.
“Over here!” Shen Xiaoxiao hollered, waving her hand and patting her thigh, face alight: “Ahhh—”
Shen Huanhuan’s eyes darted. She grabbed Xiaoxiao’s arm. “Xiaoxiao, do you really want them to sit on your lap? You’re not of age… maybe think twice?”
Shen Xiaoxiao scratched her head, confused. “Huh? Lap? I was just excited! Why sit on my lap?”
Shen Huanhuan: “……….”
Jiang Yan quickly covered her mouth with her hand. After a moment, she leaned closer to Shen Huanhuan, whispering, “Huanhuan.”
Shen Huanhuan, startled by the name, “Hm, yeah?”
“Look in front—see that pink one?”
Shen Huanhuan looked ahead, following Jiang Yan’s gaze to a pinkish spot. “Oh, that—I noticed it, but it’s not that pink. The one center stage is even more…”
Jiang Yan couldn’t help but laugh.
Realizing what she’d said, Shen Huanhuan froze. Jiang Yan laughed mercilessly. A few breaths later, she nodded. “I think so too.”
But Shen Huanhuan was petrified, hand over face.
On the other side, Shen Xiaoxiao was howling. Noticing Huanhuan’s flush, she was puzzled: “What’s wrong?”
Jiang Yan prompted: “Stage… the pink one.”
Shen Xiaoxiao scanned the stage. Five minutes later, she concluded, “They’re all in black vests, there is no pink.”
Jiang Yan finally understood what “keyboard warrior” meant online.
At 11 p.m., the pole dance ended.
As they stepped out, the twins’ driver was parked at the curb. He got out, popped the trunk, and revealed it packed with small single-serving cakes.
Shen Xiaoxiao bounded over, howling a few times. Hungry concertgoers gathered at once.
Shen Huanhuan handed Jiang Yan a cake, then passed one to the driver.
“For real?” a girl with immaculate makeup asked.
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded. “Of course! Birthday cake’s best shared.”
“Pick any!” She stepped aside, and in moments the trunk was empty—the twins collected hundreds of birthday wishes.
One girl gave them a new plushie. “Happy birthday!”
Shen Huanhuan nodded, lips curled. “Thank you.”
Hugging the plush, Shen Xiaoxiao’s cheeks glowed with excitement. She blew a flying kiss: “Wish you happiness every day too!”
The scene on the street felt unexpectedly heartwarming.
By midnight, perfect strangers stood or sat beneath streetlights, having their share of cake.
Jiang Yan’s gaze swept the crowd and finally landed on the twins.
“I’ll head back,” she told them.
“It’s so late! Sis and I will drop you off,” Shen Xiaoxiao chirped.
Shen Huanhuan added softly, “Let’s go together. Where do you live?”
With the twins insistent, Jiang Yan didn’t refuse. Half an hour later, she stepped out of the car. Shen Xiaoxiao leaned out: “Bye, Jiang Yan-jie!”
Jiang Yan smiled and waved.
She turned and entered the compound.
Now, the first week of May had passed, and the weather was warming. By rights, all the peach blossoms in Jiangcheng should have fallen by late April—but oddly, at the entrance, the peach tree was still in full bloom. The ground beneath was spotless, not a petal to be seen.
Jiang Yan needed to pass beneath the peach tree to reach her building.
From afar, she saw the tree in lush bloom, the sweet scent, subtle yet distinct, reaching her from ten meters away. After a moment, Jiang Yan strode toward it.
The evening wind rustled, shaking down a few petals.
As Jiang Yan neared, all the blossoms on the branches suddenly cascaded down like snow in a swirling dance.
It was breathtaking.
She slowed, and when she reached the tree, only one blossom remained—a tiny peach flower, dangling alone. As Jiang Yan watched, it drifted down straight and landed perfectly on her nose.
As if it was waiting for her.
Jiang Yan looked down, expression unreadable, and sighed lightly.
She picked up the blossom and slipped it into her pocket.
Home again, she took off her jacket and placed the peach blossom on the coffee table, then went to change into pajamas and into the bathroom. After showering, it was nearly 1 a.m. Jiang Yan yawned, turned off the light, and went to bed.
In the silent darkness, only her steady breathing could be heard after a few moments.
…
2:30 a.m.
Jiang Yan was woken by a strange sound of crying. In the silent night, the weeping was eerie and tinged with sorrow.
She put on a robe and turned on the night light.
The crying came from the living room—Jiang Yan pinched her brow, tucked her long hair behind an ear, and shuffled out in slippers.
Right then, the little peach blossom she’d left on the coffee table seemed to be using its two side petals to hold the top petal, covering its face as it cried.
“……….”
Jiang Yan bent down for a look. The blossom was dropping strings of tears onto the table, pooling into a thumbnail-sized bead of water.
Honestly, a little cute.
“Mu Wang?” Jiang Yan said.
The blossom called Mu Wang didn’t seem to hear, sobbing for a while longer, then flipping over to doze on the table.
Jiang Yan called again.
“Mu Wang, what are you doing?”
Her tone was sure; though she spoke flatly, one could hear some familiarity.
Clearly, they’d known each other for a long time.
On hearing her, Mu Wang’s petal—just used for wiping tears—suddenly froze. He’d dreamed Jiang Yan favored the pink-clad pole dancer, got sad, and ended up crying awake.
Seeing Jiang Yan, the little blossom flipped over again, the side petals making as if to flee, like a tiny paper man waving flags.
“Why are you crying?” Jiang Yan held him down with her fingertip.
A faint light flashed, and a striking, pale-skinned boy appeared in Jiang Yan’s living room.
Dusky light from outside fell in. The boy wore an ill-fitting black hoodie, black soft hair drooping by his face, skin pale to the point of abnormality, blue veins visible at his neck. He sat awkwardly on the coffee table, his long legs struggling to fit in the gap between him and Jiang Yan.
Jiang Yan withdrew her fingertip from his brow.
His deep red eyes were wet, the corners tinged red, his gaze filled with nervous confusion.
Jiang Yan suddenly asked, “You’re the one who covered the security cameras for Meng Henshui?”
Mu Wang hesitated, then nodded.
“You follow me at every round,” Jiang Yan asked, “how come you never come say hello?”
Mu Wang looked down and said, off topic, “Last time, Sister, you threw me out the car window.”
Jiang Yan recalled and said lightly, “You weren’t supposed to sleep on my shoulder.”
Mu Wang turned his head away.
From a lock of his hair, a peach blossom suddenly bloomed and instantly withered.
Jiang Yan returned to her earlier question, “Why are you crying?”
Mu Wang looked visibly wounded. He glanced at Jiang Yan for a few seconds, then abruptly lifted his hoodie. “I heard what you were saying today.”
His slim, muscular waist was on display, the lines of his abs tight.
As he worked to lift the hoodie, he mumbled, “I’m definitely more pink. My real body is peach wood—how could I not be?”
For once, Jiang Yan was silent for a few seconds.
Then, arching a brow, she openly sized Mu Wang up and down, then nodded slowly. “Of course.”
“Your body, after all, was made by me.”
Their relationship was too unusual for words. In modern terms, “childhood friends” might cover it, but it went further still.
More than a thousand years ago, Mu Wang, worshiped as the Spirit Tree that guarded the Jiang Kingdom, was beloved by the people. But as luck and bad luck balance out, he’d hardly had a few years of consciousness before a lightning bolt killed him.
A thousand flowers fell; the peach tree burned to ash.
At that time, the Chixi Empress built her mausoleum and snapped a peachwood branch from the dead tree. Afterward, this branch rested at Jiang Yan’s side.
The days in the tomb were endless. No one ever told Jiang Yan how long she’d be there. She got so bored that she began watering the peachwood branch with corpse oil from the buried animals. After three hundred years, the branch changed—it became a jiangshi, and Mu Wang’s consciousness returned.
His soul was unchanged, all memories of Chixi Kingdom intact, but his personality was different.
Maybe fried by the lightning, he’d gone from flamboyant and proud to terribly slow. At first, he couldn’t speak, just stuttered, and Jiang Yan had to teach him. When he finally talked, he clung to Jiang Yan to make him bloom mini blossoms.
Soon, the whole tomb filled with Mu Wang’s peach blossoms—to the point of stifling Jiang Yan with their scent.
But she couldn’t stop him—Mu Wang cried so much, silently, covering branches and petals with his dewdrop tears, and a shake would rain them down.
The two spent over a thousand years in the mausoleum. Sixty years ago, the laws of heaven changed. Knowing she wouldn’t transform, Jiang Yan, just as the law’s suppression fell, entered Mu Wang’s consciousness and shaped his face and body.
Jiang Yan pulled his hoodie back down.
“All right, I’m going to bed first. Do what you want.”
She waved, signalling him not to make more noise.
On the way back to her room, Jiang Yan heard Mu Wang’s hurried cry.
“Sister, you’re so good at making money.”
It was so out of the blue, Jiang Yan didn’t get it, but turned to point out a less pleasant fact: “I have no money.”
Mu Wang pulled a stack of cards from his pocket, slapped them on the coffee table, and with awkward theatricality said, “Wow—Sister has so much money.”
“………”
Stone-faced, Jiang Yan said,
“Mu Wang, don’t be stupid. Go to sleep.”