Even with Wenren Buxiao personally leading the pursuit, that Miss Lin seemed to have vanished into thin air, as if she had never existed in the first place.
The methods of evil spirits are deceitful—perhaps she had already altered her appearance and slipped away right under everyone’s noses.
Zhou Xian had harbored a secret crush on the kind and beautiful Miss Lin, never imagining that her charm was nothing but a facade. If only he had been more vigilant back then, he might have captured her on the spot.
Filled with guilt, self-reproach, and the heartache of a "crush" betrayed, he clutched a wine jar and gloomily drank himself halfway to oblivion.
While on patrol, Jia Yi passed by the tavern and glanced at the drunken figure slumped over. He remarked, "You should be glad you didn’t confront her back then. She hid herself so well—her methods must be extraordinary. If you’d fought her, you might be the one lying in a coffin now."
Zhou Xian turned away, still hugging the wine jar. "I don’t need your comfort."
Jia Yi scoffed, utterly baffled by the world’s abundance of lovelorn fools. What was so great about love anyway?
In his opinion, focusing on one’s career was the only sensible path.
When Chu'he heard that Yi Moli had died, she was stunned for a long time.
Yi Moli had once been an ordinary child, but under the deliberate manipulation of certain individuals, he became the so-called leader of evil spirits.
He harbored hatred for Canghaizhou and sought to overthrow it. When his schemes failed, he wished only for death.
It was Shangguan Huanxi who pulled him back from the brink. For the first time, he understood what it meant to be chosen. Just as he found the courage to live anew, fate played a cruel joke—he died before dawn could break.
Hearing that Shangguan Huanxi had buried him, Chu'he decided to drag Ninth along to pay their respects at his grave.
Yi Moli was laid to rest atop a mountain, where the scenery was breathtaking. In life, he had been lonely; in death, the beauty of the world would keep him company.
To their surprise, Shangguan Huanxi and Wenren Buxiao were also standing before Yi Moli’s grave.
Wenren Buxiao spoke first. "The position of Lord of Canghaizhou belongs to you. I shouldn’t have usurped it."
In the past, when Shangguan Huanxi was branded a venomous woman by others, he had taken the throne with one thought in mind: if she had truly changed, he would safeguard Canghaizhou—and in doing so, preserve the integrity she once held dear.
Now that the truth had come to light and the dust had settled, it was time to return what was rightfully hers.
Shangguan Huanxi held a journal in her hand, one she had retrieved from the House of Tender Delights. It contained Yi Moli’s personal writings, as well as information related to the Eternal City of Yunhuang.
He had no friends, no one he trusted, and thus no one to confide in. The journal was filled with fragmented musings—enough to keep her occupied for a long time.
Shangguan Huanxi said, "There are still many things I need to investigate. I’ll be leaving Canghaizhou today."
Wenren Buxiao tightened his grip on his sword. "But the position of Lord is yours."
"The position was never mine to begin with," Shangguan Huanxi replied, lifting her gaze. "Anyone capable of protecting this city is qualified to lead. Wenren, you have that ability. As for me, I have my own path to follow."
Wenren Buxiao pressed his lips together. "But you endured so much misunderstanding, so much suffering. Huanxi, did you ever hate me? Or did you simply see me as... just another citizen?"
Shangguan Huanxi fell silent for a moment before answering, "I did hate you."
Some things, even when you knew they weren’t that person’s fault—when it was merely fate’s cruel twist—still stirred hatred. And that hatred was rooted in love.
Wenren Buxiao stared at her for a long time before suddenly smiling, an eerie satisfaction in his expression.
It was enough that she had hated him, even if only for a fleeting moment. That hatred was proof that she had once loved him.
He said, "Jin Yuyuan’s death wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to blame yourself."
"His name wasn’t Jin Yuyuan. It was Moli."
Shangguan Huanxi turned to leave, pausing when she noticed Chu'he and Ninth nearby. She nodded in acknowledgment.
Chu'he quickly greeted her. "Miss Shangguan!"
Though Shangguan Huanxi hadn’t interacted much with Chu'he, she was aware of the girl’s relationship with Ninth. In a way, she admired the young woman.
"Thank you both for your help during Canghaizhou’s turmoil. If you ever need anything in the future, I’ll do my best to assist."
Chu'he’s eyes sparkled with admiration, her joy practically radiating from her expression. "You’re too kind, Miss Shangguan! Ninth and I are just kind-hearted people who can’t stand injustice. Helping out was the least we could do!"
"Right, Ninth?"
She nudged the young man beside her, who responded with a displeased grunt.
Not long ago, Chu'he had teased him about preening like a peacock. Now, he thought she was the one showing off in front of Shangguan Huanxi.
Why else would she be smiling so brightly?
Shangguan Huanxi chuckled softly, then glanced at Ninth. "When I was at the House of Tender Delights, I found Elder Jin on the verge of death. I didn’t bother with him, but since he helped me retrieve something, I agreed to pass on a message. He said if Ninth could cure his poison, he’d reward you handsomely."
Chu'he and Ninth’s eyes lit up simultaneously.
"A reward? Ninth, he’s so rich—it must be piles of gold and jewels!"
"If he’s sincere, we might as well check it out."
Truly a match made in heaven—both equally money-minded.
Shangguan Huanxi shook her head in amusement before returning to her residence to pack. As she led her horse out the gate, Su Lingxi came running up.
"Miss Shangguan, I want to travel the world with you!"
Behind him stood Wuya, looking exasperated.
Shangguan Huanxi asked, "Why do you want to come with me?"
"Because I like you!" Su Lingxi, though young, spoke with conviction. "Ever since I dreamed of you sacrificing yourself to protect the entire city, I’ve admired you!"
He rarely dreamed, but when he did, it foretold the future. Yet he couldn’t freely share the contents of his dreams—doing so would incur heaven’s wrath.
As a child, he had spoken too much, and now only three of his senses remained: hearing, sight, and taste.
Shangguan Huanxi pressed further. "What exactly do you like about me?"
"I like your heroic spirit, your sense of justice, your mastery of the sword—unlike those sheltered girls who know nothing beyond the inner chambers, wasting their days on needlework and arts just to please their husbands."
Shangguan Huanxi looked down at the naive boy, the gemstones on her sword’s scabbard glinting in the sunlight as it swayed at her waist.
"But I’ve met many women of the inner chambers who wielded brushes as blades and stitched their sentiments into embroidery. Their hearts held just as much love for their homeland as ours do for the sword."
Su Lingxi faltered. "I... I..."
She said, "Without needlework, where would the clothes on your back come from, stitch by stitch? Without music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, who would record and sing of the world's joys and sorrows, its vast mountains and rivers? Battlefield slaughter defends the nation, but ink on paper guards the hearts of men."
"If those gentlewomen you speak of had been born in Canghaizhou and raised as its rulers, they might have done even better than I," Shangguan Huanxi replied. "Circumstances differ, methods differ—how can we speak of superiority? Between them and me, is there really any distinction?"
Su Lingxi fell silent. He was still young, sheltered in a greenhouse since childhood, and thus blinded by a single leaf. At this moment, facing Shangguan Huanxi, he felt like a frog at the bottom of a well, overcome with shame.
