Song Chunming was still unwell, and coupled with his memory loss, Fang Songhe naturally had no choice but to stay by his side. Since they hadn’t yet found a place to settle, they simply accepted Chu'he’s invitation to stay at her residence for a few days.
The scenery of Yangcheng was unlike anywhere else.
Ninth, holding Chu'he’s hand, walked among the bustling crowd, his gaze wandering over the various trinkets sold by street vendors—each one seemingly full of charm.
The city thrived with commerce, drawing merchants from all directions. Many wore exotic attire distinct from the traditional styles of the Central Plains, so Ninth’s appearance—his snow-white hair and crimson eyes—only earned him a few extra glances. Beyond that, there was little else to draw attention.
Chu'he bought a butterfly-shaped sugar figurine and held it to his lips. "Ninth, try this."
He took a small bite of the wing, his eyes brightening. "It’s sweet."
Chu'he tilted her head with a smile. "Right? Do you like it?"
He nodded. "I do."
"There’s so much more delicious food to try." She placed the sugar figurine in his hand and tugged him toward another stall selling pastries. After paying, she unwrapped a piece from the oiled paper and offered it to him.
Ninth took a bite, savoring the crisp, sugary flavor, his eyes alight with delight.
"This is mung bean cake—refreshing and perfect for summer." Chu'he popped the remaining half into her mouth, closing her eyes in satisfaction. "Mmm, indulging in something sweet once in a while isn’t bad."
Ninth said, "I want more."
But Chu'he shook her head. "No, you’ve already had enough sweets today."
Turning away, she called out, "Fang Songhe, this is for you."
Ninth watched as Chu'he handed the entire packet of pastries to Fang Songhe, who sat in the carriage. His expression darkened with displeasure, and he took a large, resentful bite of the sugar figurine.
"I already told you Cang Yan didn’t bump into you on purpose. I’ve apologized—what more do you want?"
"Not on purpose? He clearly aimed straight for me!"
A crowd had gathered ahead, the clamor of an argument rising in waves. The voices sounded familiar, and so did the names mentioned.
Chu'he pulled Ninth toward the commotion. The crowd was too dense, and she couldn’t squeeze through, forced to stand on tiptoe at the periphery. Just as she began to tire, a pair of hands lifted her by the waist, making it effortless.
Spotting the figures at the center, Chu'he tugged excitedly at Ninth’s sleeve. "Ninth, it’s your fellow countryman!"
The woman in indigo Miao attire was enchantingly beautiful, accompanied by a silent, blade-wielding man—none other than Sang Duo and her puppet, Cang Yan, whom they had met before at an inn in Canghaizhou.
They had clashed with a local, and unfortunately, this local was not someone to be trifled with.
The young woman was a vision of gold—literally. From head to toe, she was adorned in lavish golden jewelry. Just the bracelets on her wrist alone were worth more than an ordinary family could earn in a lifetime.
This gilded noblewoman had eyes that slanted upward with an air of arrogance, her gaze sweeping dismissively over everything as if nothing was worthy of her attention. Haughty and domineering, she embodied sheer conceit.
Chu'he muttered, "What rotten luck—they’ve crossed paths with Li Number Two."
The ostentatious girl wasn’t actually named Li Number Two. Her name was Li Furong, the heiress of the Li family—the sworn rivals of the Chu clan. She was the second child, with an elder brother above her.
Li Furong, relentless when she had the upper hand and backed by a retinue of guards, crossed her arms and sneered. "I had just stepped out of the jewelry shop when he, standing across the street, charged straight at me. Does that look accidental to you?"
It was true—Cang Yan had always been quiet, trailing behind Sang Duo like a leashed pet. But suddenly, as if sensing something, he had lunged toward Li Furong.
Sang Duo had swiftly grabbed Cang Yan’s arm and yanked him back, but Li Furong was already startled.
Baffled but unwilling to interrogate Cang Yan now, Sang Duo pulled him behind her, her own temper flaring. "This is our first time in Yangcheng. We have no grudge against you—why would we target you? Cang Yan made a mistake, and I’ve apologized. If that’s not enough, do you want compensation?"
Li Furong scoffed. "Do I look like I need money? If he’s done wrong, hiding behind a woman is pathetic. Make him come out and kneel to apologize!"
Having traveled with her clan’s young master, Sang Duo had encountered many Central Plains folk. Most treated her with wariness due to her background, but this brainless, fearless noblegirl had finally worn her patience thin.
"Fine. You want my man to kneel?" Behind her back, a small purple spider crawled onto Sang Duo’s fingertip.
Just as she prepared to teach this arrogant girl a lesson, her eyes locked onto a pair of amused ones in the crowd. She recoiled with a shriek.
Chu'he, still being held aloft, blinked innocently, unaware that her sudden appearance could be more terrifying than a vengeful ghost.
Li Furong turned and gasped. "Oh! Chu Sprout, you’re still alive?"
Chu'he smiled sweetly. "Li Pimple, long time no see. Glad to see you’re still breathing."
Li Furong’s fists clenched, her glare murderous.
Chu'he’s feet touched the ground, her petite frame vanishing behind the crowd. The onlookers, sensing the lethal tension, slowly parted to let her through.
She reappeared, arms crossed, her gaze just as dismissive as Li Furong’s—as if the other girl wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
And beside Chu'he stood a striking figure.
The young man’s crimson robes burned like silent flames, his white hair a frost-kissed contrast. The clash of extremes on him created an eerie beauty, yet the aloofness in his eyes added an untouchable solitude.
With just a glance at the Miao girl, she cowered behind her puppet, trembling.
The young man chuckled, taking another bite of his unfinished sugar figurine. The dangerous aura around him mingled with an odd innocence, making him even more inscrutable—and unsettling.
Li Furong instinctively stepped back but quickly stiffened, refusing to show weakness in front of Chu'he. She jutted her chin forward and sneered.
"Chu Sprout, I heard you ran off alone to find your fiancé. So? Did you catch your golden turtle? Or did he marry someone else, forcing you to bring back a white-haired freak for comfort?"
