After returning to Jiangcheng, Jiang Yan first took Chen Xihe home. Mu Wang had just come back not long before and was in the kitchen experimenting with baking cookies.
The whole house was filled with the tempting aroma of baked goods.
Back then, Taotao had never taken human form, not even up to the moment he was struck dead by heavenly lightning, so Chen Xihe had never seen his human appearance. But at first glance at Mu Wang, he still recognized him instantly.
He smiled and asked, “Did Yanyan shape your face for you?”
Mu Wang stared intently at Chen Xihe for a long while, wiped the flour from his hands onto his apron, and said joyfully, “Sister’s imperial father is back.”
Chen Xihe nodded lightly.
“Yes.”
Mu Wang remembered what Chen Xihe had just said and pointed at himself. “Sister shaped it.”
Chen Xihe understood. “She liked doing that as a child. Whenever she saw a well-behaved, pretty face in a picture book, she’d always look at it a few more times.”
Jiang Yan glanced at the two of them.
Enduring Mu Wang’s secretly proud look, she walked into the kitchen, grabbed a cookie, and ate it in a few bites. Afterward, she offered her opinion:
“It could be a little sweeter.”
Mu Wang immediately agreed.
Jiang Yan thought for a moment, finding nothing else to say, then picked up her jacket from the sofa. “I’m going to the Supernatural Administration Bureau.”
“He Qingyuan says he’s found a top-grade repair rune. I’ll go try it.”
With that, she briefly explained the current situation. Mu Wang stood up, wanting to go with her, but Jiang Yan refused.
“No need. I’ll be back in about two hours.”
“You show Imperial Father around the house.”
Mu Wang nodded a bit dejectedly, while Chen Xihe fell silent, sighing after a long pause.
“I’d thought about the reasons, but I never imagined it was so complicated.”
“Jiang Chixi actually had two people inside her.”
“And your six hundred years…”
Jiang Yan interrupted Chen Xihe: “It’s all in the past.”
“We all shared hardships, life wasn’t so different for any of us.”
Hearing this, Chen Xihe said no more.
But he knew in his heart that it was very different—very much so.
Over these thousand years, he had lived among his own kind, free to fly in the valleys. By nature, he loved quiet and disliked noise. Even if no one could see him, he could accept it easily. To him, the sound of mountain streams and insects was excellent company.
But Jiang Yan was different.
What she had most longed for back then was to leave the underground palace, to play everywhere under the sun, to listen to stories. She was the kind of child who would chase Taotao around for half a day. Later, she gradually learned to analyze human emotions, even briefly learned to put herself in others’ shoes, but over the long years, she lost that ability.
How had she endured those hundred years—clear-headed but unable to move?
Chen Xihe looked at Jiang Yan before him.
Jiang Yan gave him a smile. “No need to dwell on it.”
So Chen Xihe smiled too. “I won’t.”
“There’s always gain and loss. I understand.”
Seeing that Chen Xihe no longer dwelled on the past, Jiang Yan zipped up her jacket and waved to the two of them. “See you in a bit.”
With that, she left, grabbed a shared bike by the roadside, and rode to the Supernatural Administration Bureau.
The sunset in Jiangcheng was beautiful.
It reminded Jiang Yan of when she used to ride the bus back and forth, memorizing Jiangcheng’s routes and locations.
Back then, a girl named Xiaoxiao had drowned, and the bus was full of news about it. That day, she’d met two very friendly high school girls on the bus—they kept glancing at her and were startled when she looked back.
Jiang Yan could still remember the sunset that day.
—Yellowed, old, even tinged with a damp smell.
Like a shroud for the dead.
Today’s sunset was nothing like that. Pink clouds filled the sky, and even a casual glance made one think of vibrant life.
Half an hour later, Jiang Yan arrived at the Supernatural Administration Bureau.
Having led the team through the Cangnan Funeral Home, she was now quite famous at the bureau. Every day, there were several forum posts about her, asking when she’d open a solo livestream room. A bunch of psychics were eager, promising that if she started a solo room and completed just one mission, they’d vote her into the bureau’s top three solo rankings.
But Jiang Yan had no interest in solo livestreams for now, so whenever she saw such posts, she’d scroll past them expressionlessly.
Two minutes later, Jiang Yan reached the third floor and entered the bureau’s main hall.
As soon as she walked in, she saw several yao.
There was a fluffy squirrel yao, its huge tail swishing behind it, appearing in its true form.
There was also a fox yao, with bright red ears standing upright on either side of his head. He appeared in human form—apart from the ears, everything else looked normal.
Jiang Yan’s gaze swept over them and landed on the third yao.
Blue-green snake scales shimmered on her arm—clearly a snake yao, and a highly venomous one at that.
But that wasn’t why Jiang Yan was interested. She looked at this woman because of her identity—
Zong Lü.
Currently managing the interrogation room, often helping Pingping with her homework.
Jiang Yan watched her for a few seconds, then glanced around the hall. There were many psychics present, and everyone seemed to accept the situation well. As Jiang Yan pondered, Meng Henshui walked out of the interrogation room.
She had once killed too many people with the help of a weasel—though they were all deserving—but she’d accumulated too much karmic debt and needed to atone. So she joined the bureau and now did odd jobs in the interrogation room.
Seeing Jiang Yan, she waved enthusiastically. “You’re here!”
Jiang Yan replied with an “Mm.”
Meng Henshui followed Jiang Yan’s gaze and understood.
She explained proactively, “Not long ago, the bureau issued a notice saying that one in forty psychics working here is a yao. They went to great lengths to recruit them. At first, the bureau was afraid that revealing their identities would cause panic, but after much deliberation, they realized it was disrespectful to keep hiding it.”
“After consulting with the yao, the bureau made some of their identities public.”
“Everyone’s taking it well,” Meng Henshui pointed at the fox yao. “He’s ranked seventh among the bureau’s psychics. He looks at everyone like he’s flirting. His power is hallucination. He already had a lot of fans, and now he has even more for some reason.”
Then she pointed at the squirrel yao. “She’s a healing specialist, one of the most famous among her kind, has saved nearly a hundred psychics. After her identity was made public, her teammates worried she’d face discrimination and tried to argue on the forums, but nothing happened.”
Meng Henshui laughed. “Not only did nothing happen, but lots of healing psychics breathed a sigh of relief.”
Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow. “A sigh of relief?”
Meng Henshui nodded. “Yeah, they realized it’s no wonder they can’t compare. It’s normal for a twenty-year-old to lose to a two-thousand-year-old.”
Finally, Meng Henshui mentioned Zong Lü.
“She’s always been respected because she manages the interrogation room. After her identity was revealed, she said on the forums that she finally didn’t have to make up excuses anymore—she used to have to explain to colleagues where her soul-burning snake venom came from, and she’d run out of stories.”
Jiang Yan couldn’t help but laugh.
“Pretty good.”
Meng Henshui nodded. “Yeah, pretty good.”
“Books used to say, ‘Those not of our kind must have different hearts,’ but every race has good and bad. There’s no perfectly good or perfectly bad race. After fighting side by side for so long, how could we not know each other’s character?”
“It’s just an identity. That kind of thing ranks far behind team spirit.”
Jiang Yan looked Meng Henshui up and down. “You’ve changed a lot.”
Meng Henshui smiled. “Really?”
Jiang Yan nodded.
Meng Henshui thought for a moment, then said, “Probably because work’s been going well, and I’ve seen Chunhong twice recently. I’m in a good mood every day.”
Jiang Yan: “Keep it up.”
Meng Henshui echoed, “Keep it up.”
Since Jiang Yan had things to do that night, she didn’t chat long with Meng Henshui. After a few more words, she said goodbye and headed to He Qingyuan’s office.
When she entered, she saw that He Qingyuan looked more than ten years older.
If he’d looked about seventy before, now he looked ninety.
That sense of age and frailty was overwhelming.
Jiang Yan found a chair and sat down. After a few seconds of eye contact, she said bluntly, “You won’t live more than three years.”
He Qingyuan smiled. “Can’t be helped—precognition costs a lot of lifespan.”
“But being able to see the energy field disappear before I die, I’m already satisfied.”
Jiang Yan didn’t respond to that.
She took out the replica bridal gown, exposed the wound at the chest, and pushed it to He Qingyuan. “Can you repair it?”
He Qingyuan’s hands trembled as he took the gown.
After a long time, he nodded gently. “Yes, I’ve found the rune. An alchemist is refining medicine right now. Once it’s ready, we’ll apply it—”
He broke off in a fit of coughing.
After a long time, he continued, “Tomorrow. It’ll be ready tomorrow.”
Jiang Yan acknowledged this.
“I’ll come find you tomorrow night.”
She got up to leave, but after a few steps, she heard He Qingyuan’s earnest apology.
“Sorry for deceiving you back then.”
“I didn’t just fail to keep my promise to my Senior Sister, I even forged an item to trick you.”
Jiang Yan knew what he meant.
Back then, He Qingyuan had said He Qingfu was Jiang Chixi’s reincarnation, then took her into a secret room with a portrait of He Qingfu and a wooden box.
At that time, He Qingyuan had fabricated a story.
He said He Qingfu felt guilty for what she’d done to Jiang Yan, that she’d betrayed her trust.
Then Jiang Yan opened the box He Qingfu had supposedly left for her.
Inside was a slip of paper.
It had three lines—
[All these years, I’ve always thought of you.]
[I’m sorry for the choice I made back then. You were so young, always liked to sleep close to me.]
[But, Yanyan, not all humans are like me.]
But from He Qingfu’s diary, it was clear that before her consciousness crossed over, she had no idea Jiang Yan would take human form. After Jiang Chixi died, her consciousness dissipated as well—she couldn’t possibly have left a message for Jiang Yan a thousand years later.
So all of this was fabricated by He Qingyuan.
The purpose was still to win her over, to use family affection to move Jiang Yan, to make her realize it was a human who had raised her.
He Qingyuan explained, “The bureau has psychics with the ability to trace the past. He saw some fragments—like you and Jiang Chixi sleeping together, or her stabbing you in the chest with a dagger on a snowy day. He misunderstood, didn’t he?”
Jiang Yan nodded. “Mm.”
“She never hurt me.”
“So even though you restrained your own desires as much as you could, I still knew it was a trick. She never tried to instill any ideology in me, never said anything about humans being good or bad.”
He Qingyuan paused.
He carefully recalled his exchanges with Jiang Yan, finally noticing a certain detail.
“I see…” he murmured, “So that’s why you tore up the note.”
Jiang Yan nodded.
“If it’s fake, then it has no reason to exist.”
He Qingyuan gave a bitter smile.
He stared at Jiang Yan for a long time, complex emotions in his eyes.
After a few minutes, he asked, “Do you think I’m despicable?”
Jiang Yan frowned slightly.
“Do you think you have a problem?”
He Qingyuan reached for the teapot on the table, his hand shaking as he poured himself a cup.
“No.”
“As long as humanity can survive and thrive, it doesn’t matter how despicable I am.”
Jiang Yan: “Then what’s the point of asking?”
“Don’t look to me for judgment.”
“You only have three years left. I won’t waste time making trouble for you.”
She looked at He Qingyuan, her face expressionless:
“Just keep living.”
Jiang Yan turned, opened the door, and before she left, He Qingyuan asked her one last question: “The interruption of the supernatural resurgence needs a reason. What do you think is best?”
Jiang Yan looked back. “Of course, make something up.”
“I have no interest in displaying my childhood for others, or in showing off my true body everywhere.”
There were already photos of her true body online. She could imagine that if it was exposed, her pictures would be passed around by psychics everywhere. She didn’t need anyone’s worship or offerings, and certainly didn’t want to be everyone’s phone wallpaper.
He Qingyuan thought for a moment. “How about this?”
“We’ll say you accidentally entered an energy field with a future altar scene, summoned He Qingfu’s soul at the altar, and together you found a way to save the world and drew the related rune.”
“You brought the rune back, and with the help of the mirror yao’s rune, it was copied nearly a hundred times.”
“—Will that do?”
Jiang Yan shrugged. “Of course.”