NWAFAM 160: Eight Immortals Cake

It’s just a beauty—why is everyone acting like they’ve never seen one before?

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Given Ji Hong’s current condition, the breach of Beiyan Pass by the Northern Di—while not directly their responsibility—still required certain preparations. Naturally, Min Xuefei dared not leave such matters to him. He instructed his men not to inform Ji Hong yet and simply let him rest properly for a few days.

In the side room, Min Xuefei met with several scouts. They had ridden day and night, wearing out two horses to deliver the report. They hadn’t even had a sip of water before diving straight into the situation.

The escaped Northern Di prince, Helo’a, was evidently ambitious. After breaking through Beiyan Pass, he had led his forces south, and though not as ruthless as General Ji’s firestorm years ago, his army had looted everything in sight, leaving northern civilians suffering terribly.

The Grand Xia Empire hadn’t seen a major war in years. Beiyan Pass, known for its strong defenses, had lulled the army into complacency. Worst of all, no one had expected the Marquis of Dingbei to actually fall. With the capital already overwhelmed by the recent “divine punishment” and epidemic, the Northern Di’s surprise attack had thrown the emperor into a complete panic.

According to the scouts, Helo’a had grown increasingly arrogant—ranting openly, threatening to use the Grand Xia emperor’s blood to honor his ancestors, and to drag the Ji family’s surviving members back to kneel and beg forgiveness for the burning of the Northern Di capital.

Min Xuefei gritted his teeth. “If they hadn’t kidnapped the Ji sons first, Ji Gong wouldn’t have gone to such extremes. They reaped what they sowed.”

The court had already dispatched two generals with reinforcements toward Yancheng. Judging by the route, a decisive battle would likely take place near Shuo East County.

After hearing that, Min Xuefei frowned. “A bunch of scattered remnants—do we really need to deploy so many troops?”

One court-affiliated scout replied, “Northern army reports say the Di have raised two hundred thousand men—not a small number. Of course, we had to match them. Minister Lu of the Ministry of War was particularly adamant about how grave the situation is. He silenced all opposition, and with war at Beiyan escalating, there wasn’t time for prolonged debate. The troops have already been dispatched.”

Min Xuefei narrowed his eyes. “Lu Yongchuan? Wasn’t he a staunch advocate for peace? Why the sudden shift to hawkishness?”

The scout had no definitive answer but hesitantly offered, “Minister Lu’s been meeting quite often with Feng Jian of the Palace Secretariat lately. We followed them a few times and saw that Feng Jian met with him repeatedly—and seemed to be accompanied by someone else. That person kept their face covered. We didn’t dare get too close, so we couldn’t identify them or overhear the conversation.”

Min Xuefei waved it off. “Forget it. I understand. Go on.”

The scout continued, “Things are tense in court. The rumors of divine punishment haven’t subsided, and His Majesty is busy suppressing gossip and soothing the regions hit by the epidemic. Now there’s war—it’s one thing after another. But it’s not just the court. Even the inner palace is full of speculation.”

Although they served Min Jie directly, these scouts were loyal to both Min Xuefei and the Ji family’s heir. They were well aware of events on both sides—especially the rumors surrounding the famed court physician from the capital. The scout glanced uneasily at the youth in the corner, who was silently organizing his medicine box.

Min Xuefei nodded. “Speak freely.”

The scout braced himself and said, “Several senior ministers have submitted a joint petition… asking His Majesty to consider the greater good. They said… well…”

Min Xuefei snapped, “What? Out with it!”

“They accused the young heir of the Ji family,” the scout blurted. “Claimed he abused his power, let his household guards run rampant in the capital, bullied the weak, accepted bribes…”

Yu Jinnian, startled, looked up. “When did I ever bully the weak or accept bribes?”

The scout stammered, “Not you. The other one.”

“What oth—” Yu Jinnian paused, realization dawning. *The other one* must be Yu Xu, that little bastard who’d once stayed briefly at Jinyouting. That one had indeed run wild in the capital, throwing his weight around, offending nobles left and right. Even after crossing Yu Jinnian, he’d had the gall to try seducing Ji Hong with the cheapest tricks in the book.

Yu Jinnian frowned, thinking, *These capital types really hold grudges. That was months ago, and they’re still dredging it up.*

Back then, he’d been furious—afraid Yu Xu’s actions would tarnish Ji Hong’s reputation. He’d left the punishment to Ji Hong and later heard Yu Xu had his leg broken and was tossed out of the city. He hadn’t bothered to follow up.

But this… this was what he feared might happen.

The scout swallowed. “They’re also pushing to investigate the Ji estate. Saying the young heir is favored by the Noble Consort and no longer respects the imperial authority…”

“Enough,” Min Xuefei cut him off, waving irritably. “Those old fools—where were their spines when the Ji family stood strong? Now they’re all scrambling to kick him while he’s down, just because the consort’s been placed under house arrest. Yes, the Ji estate hasn’t been politically active in years—but that’s no excuse for this kind of slander. Do they think they’re worth anything?”

They only dared stir up trouble now because Min Jie was out of the capital. Were he here, with that silver tongue of his, half the imperial court wouldn’t stand a chance. He once made a senior minister so angry that he suffered a stroke. Maybe it was time to add a few more names to that list this year.

The scout hesitated. “What should we do, then?”

Yu Jinnian stood, stepped out briefly to the kitchen, and brewed a pot of soothing tea with chrysanthemum, licorice, and annam fruit. Returning with the pot, he began pouring refills for everyone. The scout, flustered to see him serving in person, jumped to his feet in alarm.

The young man before them was said to be a treasured guest of the Ji estate—every comfort and luxury he enjoyed was equal to, if not better than, that of the young heir himself. Rumor even had it that the heir occasionally took orders from him. Everyone in the outer courtyard addressed him respectfully as “Young Master,” and it was no empty title. For someone like that to pour *him* tea—he ought to be falling over himself in gratitude.

He had only ever heard tales of Yu Jinnian before—usually from the mouths of bitter old ministers who claimed that the Ji heir had been led astray, indulging in degenerate pleasures and placing no one above his so-called favorite. But now, seeing him in person, this boy was just a clean and delicate youth—who didn’t look capable of leading anyone astray. If anything, it was more likely Ji Hong had seduced *him*.

Cradling the pristine porcelain teacup in both hands, the scout inhaled a subtle, elegant fragrance even before taking a sip. It seemed to wash away the dust of the road before he drank a drop.

Min Xuefei sipped his own cup and said, “I’ll draft a memorial to plead for leniency on Shuluan’s behalf. We’ll present it proactively, give His Majesty a step down before he traps himself with pride and does something foolish. By now, the Imperial Consort must be close to delivery? Shuluan’s little nephew really has the worst luck.”

“Yes, by the calendar, she’s nearly due. Though the Noble Consort has been confined to Zhaoyang Palace, all her attendants remain, and no one unauthorized can enter. In some ways, it’s the most peace she’s had in years. His Majesty may call it confinement, but anyone can see it’s just his way of protecting her.”

Min Xuefei nodded. “Once the imperial heir is born, everything can be renegotiated. But…” He paused in thought. “For a mess of this scale, there must be someone fanning the flames in the palace. Is it that old snake Feng Jian again?”

The scout took a gulp of tea and replied angrily, “Exactly! And that Lu family girl who was sent into the harem—when the Noble Consort was confined, His Majesty visited her for appearances’ sake. She parroted all sorts of gossip from the back palace. His Majesty turned green with rage.”

“Consort Lu?” Min Xuefei narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t she a close friend of Princess Ruyu—Twelfth Prince’s sister?”

“Yes, and do you remember—Consort Lu had an older sister who was once betrothed to the Twelfth Prince. Sadly, she died of illness just before the wedding. The prince mourned her for a year. That connection left the Lu family grateful, even though the marriage never happened. Since then, the Twelfth Prince has remained unmarried. They still consider him family in some ways.”

Then the scout pulled out a sealed missive and handed it to Min Xuefei. One glance and Min Xuefei let out a cold laugh. “Well, isn’t this entertaining. Everyone and everything seems to circle back to the Twelfth Prince. The man’s in Yue province, and he’s still orchestrating plots in the capital? Looks like Shuluan wasn’t wrong—he really *has* taken over the entire Salt and Iron Bureau.”

Yu Jinnian spoke up, “I remember. He used the finest snowflake salt in his kitchen. His guards acted all secretive, afraid I’d notice.”

Mentioning the Salt and Iron Bureau made Min Xuefei frown deeper. That institution didn’t just manage salt—it oversaw all the nation’s salt, minerals, tea, and iron. As a feudal prince, Yan Chang had no business touching it. Even if he weren’t corrupt, just the appearance was enough to stir scandal.

Sensing that his presence was surplus, Yu Jinnian quietly slipped out. He approached Ji Hong’s room, hesitated several times before knocking, afraid the moment the door opened, he’d hear that dreaded “Second Brother.” So instead, he turned away and stood silently near the threshold.

Just then, Duan Ming emerged with a basin. Seeing Yu Jinnian frozen at the door startled him. “Young Master Yu?”

Yu Jinnian couldn’t help asking, “What’s he doing?”

Duan Ming replied, “He was sitting at the desk for a bit… got tired and fell asleep again.”

Yu Jinnian muttered to himself, “He used to have terrible insomnia. Back then, I’d make endless sleep tonics for him. Now look—he can close his eyes in broad daylight.”

Duan Ming added gloomily, “He asked me earlier… if the man Young Master Jiang mentioned had once helped him. Said… maybe he owed him something.”

His heart weighed down with guilt. He regretted not shamelessly staying at the Ji estate back then. Maybe if he’d been there, Ji Hong wouldn’t have suffered so much alone, wouldn’t have developed such a strange illness. When Ji Yan was alive, Ji Hong may not have been favored, but at least he was protected. After Ji Yan passed, and with the First Miss too timid to help, Ji Hong’s days in the estate were… well, anyone could imagine.

And what happened out on that snowy plain… no one knew the full story. The scene was said to be horrific—some of the men who returned had vomited from the trauma. For a child to endure that, then return to face resentment and scorn, constant beatings… developing this illness almost seemed inevitable.

After all, if dreams were the only place he could feel safe, loved, and warm—who would want to wake up and face a cold, desolate world?

Duan Ming glanced at Yu Jinnian and hesitated. “The Young Lord… asked me to withdraw five hundred taels from the treasury—to reward you. Said even if he couldn’t remember everything, he mustn’t treat you unfairly…”

Yu Jinnian stared. “What, so I’m worth five hundred taels?! Even Xin’an’s top courtesan goes for more than that! Is that what he thinks I’m worth?!”

Duan Ming flailed, “No, no! You can’t compare to a courtesan!”

Yu Jinnian agreed coldly. “Of course not. Courtesans only need to look pretty and warm the bed. I have to manage his meals, heal his illnesses—I’m worth less than *that*?”

“…” Duan Ming was tongue-tied, wishing he could slap himself.

Too angry to go back inside, Yu Jinnian stormed out of the courtyard. He intended to find Jiang Bingren and patch things up—but as he neared the neighboring garden, he spotted that insufferably arrogant brat currently cozied up with Shi Xing under a tree, whispering sweet nothings.

That made him even angrier.

After wandering all over, Yu Jinnian found that everyone else was busy—only he had nothing to do. Jing Zhong still hadn’t woken, and he had no desire to go back upstairs. He sat on the front steps for a while, counting ants and watching some kids climb trees for bird eggs. But it was all so boring—he was bored to the point of madness.

He sighed, telling himself he was just someone fated to live a life of toil. He couldn’t sit still even when nothing needed doing. So, with a few pats to dust off his clothes, he got up and went back into the courtyard. There, he picked out several types of herbs currently drying in the sun and took them with him to the kitchen.

It wasn’t mealtime, so the kitchen staff were idly chatting. When they saw him, they quickly made space and offered to cook whatever he wanted. He need only wait a little while. Yu Jinnian chuckled bitterly and told them he was just killing time.

The cooks didn’t get it—what kind of noble young master came to the kitchen *just* to kill time?

He sorted through the herbs, picked out the ones in good condition—dangshen, baizhu, hawthorn, lotus seeds, amomum—and tossed them into a pot. First, he brought the water to a boil, then lowered the flame to a simmer. After making a medicinal broth, he mixed it with glutinous rice flour and yam puree, added honey, and kneaded it all into dough.

This was for **Eight Immortals Cake**—a treat to strengthen the spleen and aid digestion. But since the medicinal decoction gave the dough a murky color, he figured he’d also make some millet-and-poria cakes to brighten up the presentation.

But the household was out of millet. Someone needed to go buy it. Yu Jinnian didn’t feel like staying cooped up anyway, so he took a basket and headed out himself.

Despite the swirling rumors, the streets were lively. To commoners, who ruled the empire mattered far less than the price of cabbage or pork. Still recovering from the recent plague, the city had many beggars and refugees gathered in corners, hoping for alms from a charitable soul.

Yu Jinnian had some spare money on him. He bought a few coarse buns and quietly handed them out to a group of scrawny, hungry children at a street corner. When they finished gobbling them down, they tried to follow him. They weren’t after more food—they simply trailed after him, singing the latest street rhyme.

Yu Jinnian got irritated just hearing it and snapped, “Don’t sing that!”

The kids blinked at him, unimpressed by his youthful looks, and didn’t seem the least bit afraid. As soon as he walked off, they caught up again, singing lowbrow songs that grew progressively more risqué.

The more Yu Jinnian listened, the more bitter he felt. *Here I am, mired in messes, not even sure if I’ll get to live a colorful life again—and now a bunch of brats are taunting me with bawdy lyrics.* He felt so dejected he half considered shaving his head and becoming a monk.

He stopped at a stall, bought two skewers of candied hawthorn, and shoved them at the kids to get them off his back. “Split these up. Now go!”

While Yu Jinnian wandered aimlessly around the city, Duan Ming was back at the estate, sighing and fretting.

By mid-afternoon, Yu Jinnian still hadn’t returned, Ji Hong hadn’t woken, and the kitchen’s food paled in comparison to his. Min Xuefei and the others, while not picky eaters, had grown used to refined meals—and this felt like quite a step down. When someone casually asked where Yu Jinnian had gone, no one could say for sure. A kitchen maid mentioned he’d gone to buy ingredients, but… who takes more than two hours to buy millet?

At last, two and a half hours after he left, Ji Hong stirred awake.

He called out twice—no answer. So he got out of bed and began dressing. But when he went to pull on a boot, he accidentally kicked it under the bed. He bent down to fetch it—and discovered a small box under the bed he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t locked.

Made of red date wood with golden latches, the box clicked open easily. Inside were jars, coins, banknotes, and several ointments and balms—some half-used, others untouched. They smelled faintly sweet or floral. Ji Hong didn’t recognize them consciously, but they felt strangely familiar.

Just as he was about to put the box away, his finger brushed a hidden latch.

*Click.*

A secret compartment popped open.

And what lay inside made his blood run cold.

It was his mother’s curved dagger.

*Why was it here?* He could have sworn—he *knew*—that this dagger was supposed to be…

Something flickered through his mind—but he suppressed it. As if acknowledging it would unravel everything. That if he dared remember, the world he now knew would collapse, and something terrifying would take its place.

But he couldn’t stop himself. He *had* to know—*whose hands had held this blade?*

…

Outside, Duan Ming had just finished eating and scolding his subordinates. As he returned to the courtyard, a loud *clang* startled him—something had been knocked over. Heart skipping, he rushed to the door.

Before he could push it open, it flung wide on its own. Standing there, trembling and pale, was Ji Hong.

Duan Ming instinctively took two steps back, bracing for a breakdown.

Ji Hong opened his mouth—his voice was shaky: “The five hundred taels… did you give it to him?”

Duan Ming had assumed it was just something he’d said offhand. But now—did Ji Hong actually plan to shove the money into Yu Jinnian’s hands and send him away? What if he eventually regained his memory and realized *he* had driven Yu Jinnian off? Wouldn’t that drive him mad?

Panicking, Duan Ming wet his lips, glanced aside, and fibbed: “Yes… yes, he took the money and left.”

Ji Hong wobbled—his face turned even paler. He stepped forward unsteadily and shoved aside Duan Ming’s reaching hand.

He made it to the gate, turned back, and barked, “Which way?”

Duan Ming froze. “Huh? Wh-what do you mean, which way?”

Ji Hong’s voice thundered: “*I asked you—where did he go?!*”

Duan Ming was inwardly panicking—*What’s this? He thinks five hundred taels was too much?* But truth be told, he had no idea where the little miracle doctor had gone. Seeing the look on his young lord’s face, he didn’t dare say “I don’t know,” so he braced himself and randomly pointed in a direction, eyes darting toward the sky, mumbling, “Probably… that way?”

Ji Hong didn’t say a word. He just turned on his heel and *ran*.

By the time Duan Ming snapped out of it, Ji Hong had already vanished into the crowd. Alarmed, he scrambled to rally several guards to search in all directions. *Forget the fact that his mind’s not right right now—just look at the times! That bastard Heluo’a was threatening to sacrifice Ji clan blood—what if another kidnapping happens? Going out alone is absolutely out of the question!*

Ji Hong rushed north out of the alley. Every time he passed a cart, he’d peer inside. He’d stop mule-drawn wagons and check. He even scoured all the street vendors selling flatbread and pastries, thinking—*If he left, he’d need rations. He might’ve stopped to buy something.* But even after sweeping up to the north gate, he found no sign of the boy.

The city guards stared dumbfounded as this wild-haired beauty drifted their way—looking like a fallen jade statue, an ethereal ruin. It wasn’t until Ji Hong grabbed one of them by the collar and asked whether they’d seen a young man leave the city that they snapped to.

The soldiers strained to recall, then said sheepishly, “Many young men have gone through today, sir. Is he a criminal? Shall we help apprehend him?”

Just then, a peasant woman carrying a basket happened by. She squinted at Ji Hong and said, “Aren’t you Lord Ji? Were you looking for the young miracle doctor? An hour ago, when I came into the city, I saw him near the gates. Looked like he was in a sour mood—by now, I reckon he’s long gone.”

Ji Hong froze, struck dumb. He lingered there, silent before the open gates. A soldier tried asking if he wanted to pursue, what had happened, but Ji Hong couldn’t even answer.

*In a sour mood?*

Of course he was in a bad mood. *He’d just said the most ridiculous things… offering five hundred taels as a send-off. What kind of nonsense was that?!* Even if he found the boy again—what could he say? *It wasn’t on purpose?* What did intent matter now? The fact was, the boy had taken the money and left. Which could only mean—he’d been hurt. Disappointed.

Ji Hong had thought he’d long since buried his grief for his second brother. Yet here he was, spiraling into madness all over again, hurting the one person who’d stayed by his side.

*Where would he go? Not the capital—surely not. Back to Xin’an? Or maybe to Tu City, to fetch the children and start over somewhere he’s not known?*

One of the guards noticed Ji Hong’s dazed state and the blood dripping from his sleeve. Alarmed, he rushed up, “Lord Ji, are you all right?”

“Get lost,” Ji Hong growled, shoving him aside. He walked on, unfocused, heart pounding. *There were still things to do—still a future to carve out—but without Yu Jinnian, what was the point? What did any of it matter?*

*Perhaps I should’ve followed Second Brother years ago. That would’ve been cleaner.*

Duan Ming’s men eventually spotted him again in the crowd, but when they got too close, he lashed out at them too. So they followed from a respectful distance, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings.

Plenty of people in Tunán recognized Ji Hong. In recent weeks, he’d done much good for the city—beyond that, his striking appearance had gained him quite the fanbase. Normally, he dressed in official robes or practical riding gear, which gave him a forbidding aura. But now, in a soft white robe with flowing sleeves, hair loose over his shoulders, his lowered lashes casting shadows on pale cheeks—he looked like an ailing immortal.

And so, oblivious to everything, he drifted down the street. Crowds followed, wide-eyed. Some bolder women even threw flower sprigs toward him.

Meanwhile, Yu Jinnian had just paid for his shopping. His basket was full, so he cradled the rest of the items in his arms. As he stepped out of the store, he noticed the crowd surging down the road—looked like a parade or maybe a street opera.

He stopped a girl running toward the commotion and asked, “What’s going on up ahead? Why so crowded?”

The girl, dressed boldly like someone from a brothel out for a stroll, scoffed, “You from out of town or what? There’s a *vision of beauty* up ahead! Looks like a banished immortal come to earth. Just one glance and your soul’s his. I swear, he looks at me once, I’d throw down ten thousand taels just for the honor!”

*Ten thousand taels for a glance?* That was a bit much, wasn’t it?

Yu Jinnian, carrying his basket, muttered, *I don’t believe it. More captivating than *my* immortal? I need to see this self-proclaimed divine beauty for myself.*

So he shoved his way toward the crowd.

But everyone had the same idea. Nobody wanted to miss their chance for a closer look. At the same time, no one dared get too close—it was like the man exuded a sacred aura: *admire from afar, do not profane*.

Yu Jinnian struggled through the crush, protecting the bundle in his arms. Someone yanked his sleeve—it tore halfway through. Another push sent him stumbling into the clearing.

“Who the hell kicked me?!” he turned and yelled. “It’s just a pretty face, what’s everyone acting like they’ve never seen a good-looking person before for?!”

Ji Hong: “……”

Yu Jinnian turned back, ready to cast a scornful eye over this so-called immortal—only to freeze mid-breath. Long dark hair, striking features, a languid grace—

Wasn’t this *his own* soul-haunting immortal?

Yu Jinnian: “……”

*What the hell is he doing parading through the street like this?*

Ji Hong’s dulled eyes lit up. *He hadn’t left!* He was about to grab his sleeve when he saw what Yu Jinnian was holding—a gleaming golden Buddha statue staring down at all beings in serene disdain… and a *wooden fish* in his basket.

Ji Hong’s hand paused.

Yu Jinnian tried to adjust his grip so he could free one hand and drag the man home. But before he could act, a heavy shadow fell across him. He looked up—Ji Hong’s bloodshot eyes stared him down, lips pale as death, face half-hidden behind disheveled hair. There was a madness in his gaze.

*What now? A new symptom?*

Just as Yu Jinnian was figuring out how to coax him back—

Ji Hong’s voice cracked out, rough and tremulous:

“Are you… becoming a monk?”