Yu Youwei held Wu Meiniang in her arms as she fled from the house—a den of dragons and tigers with the Young Master present. She didn’t rush to leave the courtyard but stood beneath the banana trees, admiring their lush green leaves under the moonlight. These plants were neither trees nor grass, just like her current status by Xu Fengnian’s side—neither concubine nor maid, with no title whatsoever. Like the ubiquitous banana plants, once their verdure faded, they could be uprooted and replaced without a second thought.
Cradling the noticeably plumper Wu Meiniang, Yu Youwei stroked its head and murmured, “You’re so carefree, Meiniang. He promised to take me to the Shangyin Academy to pay respects to my parents. I wonder if he’ll keep his word. He said whatever he says outside the bed counts. If we reach Shangyin Academy and I beg him to let me stay there, Meiniang, do you think he’d agree?”
Wu Meiniang, curled up comfortably in Yu Youwei’s arms, dozed off lazily. Yu Youwei flicked its head and scoffed, “All you do is eat and sleep—utterly spineless. One day, I’ll abandon you in the wilderness and see how you manage to stay plump.”
Wu Meiniang lifted its head and nuzzled against Yu Youwei’s ample bosom, resembling an adorable, round snowball. With a distant gaze, Yu Youwei whispered, “You’re all I have left, so of course I’ll dote on you. But what does he lack? He’d never cherish someone as I do. Don’t be fooled by his lavish spending—throwing gold around for wine and poetry—he’s actually petty and narrow-minded.”
*Snap!*
A crisp sound echoed—elastic and sharp.
Startled, Yu Youwei turned to see the Young Master, who had wandered out idly for a stroll. Grinning mischievously, he teased, “Yu Youwei, that’s quite the slander. I gifted you an entire courtyard of banana trees, and you call me stingy? As for staying at Shangyin Academy—don’t even think about it. If you’re determined to make trouble, fine. Just as I moved those banana trees, I can relocate your parents’ graves back to Beiliang. How’s that? Whether in bed or out, my word is ironclad. Deal with someone as trustworthy as me, and you’ll never lose out.”
Yu Youwei paled, her voice trembling. “You know a few sweet words would keep me by your side. Why must you wound me like this?”
Xu Fengnian studied her delicate, enchanting face and feigned innocence. “How was I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”
Yu Youwei’s voice was laced with sorrow. “Is tormenting me fun for you?”
Xu Fengnian reached out to caress her cheek. Once, this woman had been the carefree maiden Yu Xuanji, basking in the golden age of the Western Chu imperial city. Her mother had been the emperor’s foremost sword maiden, her father a refined scholar of Shangyin. In the blink of an eye, the kingdom crumbled, and she became an orphaned survivor. Xu Fengnian neither liked nor disliked such tragedies—they added depth to a woman’s spirit. But the fall of Western Chu wasn’t his doing, so why should he care?
Was he truly as carefree and untroubled as he appeared? How many noble scions had death warriors lurking in their courtyards? Forget the scheming Chen Zhubao, the two-faced Lu Qiur, or Beiliang’s thirty thousand iron cavalry. Even if he ignored it all, could he truly escape it? After his coming-of-age ceremony, the duty of tolling the bell at Jiuhua Mountain would fall to him. Sooner or later, he’d have to face the borders of Beiliang—or even the imperial capital.
With a faint smile, Xu Fengnian remarked, “You’ve gained weight.”
Yu Youwei froze.
Xu Fengnian plucked the white cat, Wu Meiniang, from its cozy perch and set it on the ground. “Come, let’s head back. I’ll check where else you’ve plumped up.”
Ignoring his teasing, Yu Youwei looked up and asked, “Xu Fengnian, have you ever truly loved a woman?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “Of course. My elder sister Xu Zhihu, my second sister Xu Wei’er, maids like Sweet Potato and Qing Niao, Miss Li, and yes—you. I like you all, just in different measures.”
Yu Youwei shook her head. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “Fine, then I like Bai Hu’er. Happy with that answer?”
Yu Youwei swiftly scooped up Wu Meiniang and vanished in a flash.
※※※
At dawn, the pilgrims heading to Dragon Tiger Mountain were sparse, making the little girl with twin braids and the young monk stand out even more.
The fair-faced monk frowned. “Dong Xi, didn’t we agree to just see the lantern festival? Why are we running away again?”
The girl feigned ignorance. “Huh? Running away? No way! Besides, remember how happy Mom was with those cosmetics last New Year? And Dad nearly popped his eyes out staring at the prayer beads—but those were from Xu Fengnian, so I’d never give them up. Did they scold me?”
The monk nearly wept. “But Master and Mistress scolded *me*! All through New Year’s, Master made me recite scriptures—and not even Buddhist ones, but Taoist chants like *Quanzhen Gedou Zhang*. The other monks laughed at me!”
Annoyed, the girl snapped, “Stupid Nan Bei, quit nagging! I’ve let you call me Dong Xi these days. Keep it up, and I’ll ditch you.”
Terrified into silence, the monk obediently shut his mouth—though secretly, he wasn’t upset at all. He turned away, grinning to reveal a row of neat white teeth.
Last time, Dong Xi had sneaked out first, and he’d begged his master for months before being allowed to follow. This time was different.
It felt a bit like eloping.
Having grown up together, Dong Xi could tell what Nan Bei had eaten for lunch just by his burps. Suspicious, she demanded, “What are you smiling about? Spill it!”
The honest monk blushed. “Promise not to hit me?”
Dong Xi nodded solemnly.
With a foolish grin, he admitted, “Dong Xi, doesn’t this feel like we’re eloping?”
“Wu Nan Bei, elope your bald head!” Enraged, she smacked his shaven scalp.
Rubbing his head, he whined, “You promised not to get mad! No lying!”
Dong Xi huffed. “Since when am I a monk?!”
Sighing, Nan Bei trailed after her as they entered the most sacred realm of Daoism—the Celestial Master’s residence at Dragon Tiger Mountain.
Though outsiders were rarely permitted, the deeper they ventured, the fewer people they encountered. The occasional Daoist priest of imposing demeanor passed by, yet none barred their way.
Panting, Dong Xi finally reached the Celestial Master’s residence. Wiping her sweat, she grabbed the gourd of mountain spring water Nan Bei had collected along the way and took a swig. “Stupid Nan Bei, this place is fancier than my home—but still not as grand as Xu Fengnian’s. Not that impressive. What’s written on those pillars?”
The well-read monk recited dutifully, “*Celestial guests in the heavenly court, ministers’ kin in Dragon Tiger Mountain.* That’s the origin of the Celestial Master’s residence.”
Dong Xi curled her lip dismissively.
Nan Bei whispered, “Dong Xi, we’ve seen it. Can we leave now?”
Glaring, she declared, “Dad said the Daoists here are the most insufferable in the world. I’m going in!”
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