"Friend."
Ninth lowered his gaze, his expression distant and unfocused.
Chu'he's warm breath brushed against the side of his neck, carrying a faint hint of alcohol—not unpleasant, but rather like a gentle spring breeze. As her finger poked his cheek, Ninth tilted his head slightly, his long lashes casting delicate shadows beneath his eyes.
She continued muttering, "A friend isn’t just someone who laughs and cries with you. They’re also someone you can cause trouble with—someone you can even pin the blame on when things go wrong. Like today, we beat up Third Blade, so I won’t beat you up!"
The word "friend" echoed in the young man’s heart like a fruit with an indistinct flavor—he held it in his mouth but couldn’t tell whether it was sweet or bitter.
"Pin the blame…" he repeated softly, his voice quiet and rough.
Chu'he kept chattering in his ear—about how Third Blade would surely throw a fit the next time he saw them, about how lively he had looked when he tried to escape after she caught him, his eyes bright as if lit by tiny stars.
As if, for once, he wasn’t just a killing tool from the Miaojiang Poison Pit, but an ordinary teenager—one who caused trouble, annoyed people, and lived like any other seventeen- or eighteen-year-old.
Her words tangled around his ears, and his heart trembled inexplicably.
There were many things he still didn’t understand, but that indistinct fruit in his heart seemed to soften slightly, its bitterness fading to reveal a faint, almost imperceptible sweetness.
"Friends are for pinning the blame on," Ninth said, his eyes curving into crescents, sparkling. "Chu'he, I think I get it now. Having a friend is nice."
Chu'he paused mid-sentence. After all that, he only remembered the part about "pinning the blame"?
Ninth suddenly laughed, his steps lightening.
"Chu'he, let me take you flying."
Before she could respond, he hoisted her onto his back and leapt into the air, landing atop the blue-tiled rooftops.
Chu'he shrieked, clutching his hair.
"Damn it, which martial artist is flying around in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?!"
"So noisy!"
"I just fixed these tiles two days ago—don’t break them again!"
Curses rose one after another. Chu'he’s grip tightened, yanking Ninth’s hair hard enough that he misstepped, sending a few tiles clattering down.
The person sleeping inside threw off their blanket and shouted, "Think you’re so great just because you can fly?! Break my tiles, and you’d better pay up!"
Chu'he tossed a silver coin down and patted Ninth’s shoulder urgently. "Run, run! If we get caught, I’ll never live it down!"
The boy’s toes tapped lightly against the tiles as he darted forward even faster, his snow-white hair streaming behind him in the night wind. With Chu'he on his back, he streaked across the rooftops like a shooting star, leaving behind only the old man’s increasingly loud curses.
As they flew, glimpses of nighttime life unfolded beneath them.
A child opened their window to gaze at the moon, only to scream at the sight of a ghostly white-haired figure carrying a girl across the opposite roof.
"Mom! Dad! A ghost is here to snatch people!"
A young couple, sneaking a kiss in a secluded alley, yelped in terror when a broken tile suddenly landed beside them, followed by a flash of red robes streaking past like a vengeful spirit.
"Ghosts!!"
A thief scaling a wall to rob a wealthy household was struck by a tile Chu'he had picked up. He tumbled to the ground, where patrolling guards caught him under their lantern light.
"I—I just saw their lights were off and got worried something happened! I wasn’t here to steal, I swear!"
Chu'he, draped over Ninth’s shoulders, burst into laughter.
Ninth tilted his head, brushing against hers. "Having fun?"
She spread her arms, feeling the night wind. "So much fun!"
A sudden gust lifted Ninth’s loose strands and fluttered Chu'he’s sleeves. With a yelp, she instinctively tightened her grip on his clothes, her nose bumping against the back of his neck. A crisp, frost-like scent filled her senses—unexpectedly pleasant.
Unable to resist, she nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.
The affectionate gesture made Ninth stumble, crushing another tile and drawing more curses from below.
Chu'he tossed another coin with practiced ease. "Ninth, do you know what we’re doing right now?"
He grinned. "We’re causing trouble."
"Exactly! We’re causing trouble!"
Though he didn’t turn, Ninth could hear the lightness in her voice. His fingers, hooked under her knees, curled slightly, and his lips quirked up. His crimson eyes gleamed like red meteors in the dark, his laughter blending with the wind as it rippled through the night.
One of the Demon-Subduing Guards, having tied up the thief, couldn’t help but ask, "Captain, shouldn’t we do something about those two troublemakers?"
Jia Yi, arms crossed over his sword, turned away. "What troublemakers? I didn’t see any."
The black-armored guards exchanged glances before hauling the thief away, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.
The thief thrashed. "Hey, are you Demon-Subduing Guards blind?! There are two huge people flying on the roofs right in front of you!"
With a thud, he collapsed, knocked out by Jia Yi’s fist.
"Continue patrols," Jia Yi declared righteously. "Protect Canghaizhou’s peace!"
The guards chorused, "Yes, sir!"
In Canghaizhou stood a tall pagoda beside a statue, honoring those who had sacrificed their lives for the city. From its highest floor, the entire nightscape of Canghaizhou sprawled below.
"Your people assured me everything was fine! I went to the Gentle Breeze Pavilion to meet you, only to run into Third Blade and Zhou Xian—even Wenren Buxiao showed up! If my identity is exposed, what then?!"
The masked man’s voice seethed with suppressed fury. If not for their mutual interests, he would have already drawn his sword.
"No need for such agitation. Your identity remains hidden, doesn’t it?"
The man before him, dressed in lavish robes, stood tall and composed. His slender fingers folded paper with precision, soon shaping it into a lifelike frog. He held it out, his voice smooth and amused.
"Here, a peace offering. Consider it my apology."
The masked man shoved the paper frog away with his sword. "Enough games. Let’s focus on the matter at hand."
Rejected, the man tossed a small vial instead. "Take this. Proceed as planned."
"You’re certain the plan is flawless?"
"Why wouldn’t it be?"
"Don’t forget—today, that Miaojiang man and Third Blade stirred up chaos at the Gentle Breeze Pavilion. Miaojiang people are known for their cunning. Could he have sensed something? Rumor has it Yu Sanniang’s death was altered because of that Miaojiang and the Central Plains girl."
"With others, perhaps. But with those two? Impossible."
The masked man frowned. "Why?"
The young master tossed away the paper frog in his hand and pointed at the distant night, "Because that couple are idiots."
"Hahaha, so much fun! Ninth, keep flying! Tomorrow, I’ll treat you to candied hawthorns!"
"Candied hawthorns? Yay!"
They flew back and forth, circling Canghaizhou again and again, their reckless, almost manic energy disturbing the peace. One by one, lanterns lit up in the houses below, accompanied by curses and complaints.
The masked man fell silent for a moment, then turned his face away and said, "You're right."
Trying hard to ignore the background noise of the foolish couple, the masked man put away the medicine bottle. "That Master Jin knows so much about us. Aren’t you worried he might betray you?"
The man folded another paper dragonfly, intending to give it to the masked man, only to have it swatted away.
He chuckled. "Master Jin has been with me for over a decade. He’s loyal—he would never betray me."
Meanwhile, Master Jin had just escaped the clutches of his many wives.
His face bore several fresh slap marks, his appearance disheveled. Finally managing to retreat to his room, he applied medicine and hoped for a good night’s rest—only for the ceaseless giggles and laughter from the rooftop to keep him tossing and turning.
Master Jin threw off the covers, seething with resentment.
Just then, the urge to relieve himself struck. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the chamber pot, pulled down his pants—and froze.
Something was wrong.
He looked down.
Then tried to adjust himself with one hand.
Limp. Unresponsive.
He used both hands.
Still soft. No reaction.
After a long moment, Master Jin trembled violently before collapsing to the floor.
He… he… he couldn’t pee!
As the laughter of the idiot couple drifted through the window once more, Master Jin suddenly remembered the gaze of that Miaojiang man from earlier.
Those eyes had been icy, as if piercing straight through his soul.
Wenren Buxiao was a righteous man—he wouldn’t resort to torture.
But that Miaojiang man was different!
"That Miaojiang bastard must have poisoned me because he guessed I have ties to Yunhuang Immortal City!"
"That scheming devil is far more cunning than I imagined!"
"The Old Song Family’s lineage can’t end with me!"
