Slender bamboo, fallen petals, a small pavilion—everything in the scene felt eerily familiar.
A young noble reclined lazily on a bamboo couch, dressed in luxurious robes and a fine crown. His dark hair was as sleek as ink, and in his hand, he idly twirled a luminous jade wine cup. Though his features remained indistinct, his eyes were startlingly clear—filled with amusement, yet beneath the surface, there was an undeniable loneliness.
Raising his cup, he pointed it toward her in a teasing gesture, his voice serious despite the playfulness in his demeanor.
“Why not devote yourself to me and become my wife?”
“This… but I’m a demon.”
“I like demons.”
“But I like someone else.” She panicked.
He burst into laughter. “Then that’s unfortunate. It was you who came begging for my help, little red tea.”
She grew annoyed. “I already told you, my name isn’t ‘red tea’!”
…
In the dead of night, Hong Ning was startled awake by a faint tapping sound.
Lying on her bed, she stared blankly at the ceiling.
That wasn’t a dream.
It was an unconscious meditation—yet within it, she had seen a scene so vivid it felt as though it had been carved into her memories, something that had either always existed or had just happened moments ago.
The woman in the vision was not a stranger.
And the man…
He was even more familiar—so familiar that it sent a chill through her heart.
Especially those eyes, both reckless and lonely.
Not "His Eminence the Celestial Lord."
She suddenly came back to her senses.
That strange dream that had once haunted her endlessly had not appeared for a long time now.
Feeling as if a great weight had lifted from her, she exhaled deeply.
She didn’t care to know what connection she had with that woman from the vision. If those dreams never returned, so much the better. At least she would no longer have to endure that desolate, unyielding strength, nor the unbearable pain that had felt like being flayed alive after drinking the waters of the Jade Pool.
The tapping sound continued, pausing intermittently, as if someone were gently knocking on a table with their fingers, careful and deliberate.
This is…?
Finally sensing something amiss, she quickly dismissed all irrelevant thoughts, sat up, and turned her attention to the sound.
It came from the transmission talisman on the nearby table.
She couldn't help but smile.
* * *
The courtyard was deathly silent.
Yang Zhen’s room was still lit, and through the window, two silhouettes were faintly visible.
The pink robes still carried their usual suggestive charm, yet unexpectedly, Bi Qin seemed to have transformed into an entirely different person.
Gone were the flirtatious gestures—his demeanor was now filled with genuine shame.
“I was… much too reckless the other day,” he said, his tone subdued.
Yang Zhen, appearing indifferent, lightly tapped his fingers against the table, his expression composed.
“It was I who misunderstood you, Brother Bi, and in doing so, nearly led you to harm at the hands of that Daoist woman. I deeply regret it.”
The transmission talisman must have been placed on the underside of the table.
Hong Ning had been worried at first, but upon seeing the situation unfold, she couldn’t help but admire Yang Zhen’s composure.
Faced with such a crucial moment, he had managed to restrain his emotions perfectly, revealing neither joy nor anger—he was far more capable than she had initially thought.
With this in mind, she tightened her grip on the cypress sword in her hand.
Fortunately, Yang Zhen had come up with a way to notify her in time.
Bi Qin was shrouded in demonic energy. Though she had placed talismans around the room from the outside, he hadn’t noticed at all—proof of his formidable cultivation. A head-on confrontation would be extremely difficult; she could not afford to be careless.
Inside the room, the two continued their conversation.
Playing a role like this for the first time in his life, Yang Zhen felt more than a little uncomfortable.
He cast a quick glance toward the window, coughed lightly to cover his unease, then reached for the wine jug beside him.
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