Night fell.
Xiangyun came to find Chai Xiaomi carrying a bowl of small wontons.
She stood at the doorway, her voice timid, her gaze always drifting away when she looked at people—like a little animal ready to retreat into its shell at any moment.
"Xiaomi... these are my handmade pleated wontons." She pushed the bowl forward carefully, her movements cautious. "I heard you had a stomachache, so I boiled them until they were very soft."
After speaking, she quickly lowered her eyes. Though she had come to offer warmth, she carried herself like a thief.
Chai Xiaomi could tell at once—this was a total introvert.
No wonder people thought she was a mute when she first entered the Illusion Sound Pavilion. She never spoke to strangers unless she had to. Apart from immersing herself in music, she lived entirely in her own world.
In a way, Xiaoman was her only emotional outlet.
Only when she was with him could she shed her shell and reveal another side of herself.
"Thank you, Xiangyun. I am a little hungry, actually." Xiaomi took the bowl, lowered her head, and took a sip. Suddenly, she froze.
The taste was startlingly similar to her mother's cooking.
When she was young, she never liked big wontons. She always thought the skin was too thick, the filling too big, and that they had to be eaten in two bites. Whenever her family made wontons, her mother would always make a small batch of pleated wontons just for her.
Thin skins, nearly translucent.
Using a popsicle stick, her mother would dip it in a bit of minced meat at the edge of the bowl, spread it on the skin, pinch it lightly with her fingers, and then place the little wonton neatly on the cutting board. They were quick to make, beautiful, like tiny clouds.
"Is... is the taste not to your liking?" Seeing Xiaomi staring blankly at the wontons, Xiangyun nervously twisted the hem of her clothes and asked with a hint of disappointment.
"No, it's delicious. You have amazing skill." Xiaomi quickly shook her head, lowered her head, and ate a few more bites in quick succession, as if to prove it to her.
Only then did Xiangyun smile. Her eyes curved delicately, and she said softly, "When I was little, my family was poor. My father worked the land day in and day out, and even then, we barely had enough to get by. To save money, we often made small wontons at home—because with less filling, we didn't have to buy much meat."
She remembered that when her father came home from the fields, exhausted, she would cook him a bowl of small wontons to fill his stomach. Sometimes she would also make him some wheat-flour cakes to take to the fields.
As memories flooded back, a faint glimmer of tears appeared in Xiangyun's eyes. "But even so, my father was willing to spend thirty taels of silver to buy me a zither. He said the world outside was full of wicked people and forbade me to leave home. So every day, I could only stay indoors and keep company with my zitherstrings. That zither became my only friend."
"Aside from playing music, I knew nothing. Until I met Xiaoman. He rescued me from misery, taught me to read, and told me stories. That was when I realized there were so many wonderful things in this world. So, the only wish I have in my life is to be with him."
As she spoke, she reached into her bosom and pulled out a deed of indenture: "Xiaomi, I came tonight to thank you."
"I don't know why my father's jade pendant ended up on your friend—perhaps fate decided it wasn't meant for me. But it bought me my freedom, and for that, I owe you."
This was the first time Xiangyun had spoken so much to anyone other than Xiaoman.
As Chai Xiaomi listened, her heart felt a tangle of emotions. She suddenly understood deeply what it meant that "Heaven plays tricks on man."
Twists and turns, strange misunderstandings.
A thousand words were caught in her throat, churning, but not a single one could escape her lips.
Finally, she simply said softly, "You and Xiaoman—take good care of each other."
This must have been Hongxiao's wish, too.
Thinking of Hongxiao, she was startled for a moment. Her gaze shifted unintentionally past Xiangyun and suddenly caught a corner of dark-green Miao-style clothing against the doorframe.
A tall figure stood quietly outside by the door, leaning against the frame, clearly waiting out there in silence so as not to intrude while she spoke with someone else.
Xiaomi felt a sudden ache in her heart.
She knew better than anyone how unruly and defiant he could be, how unpredictable and arrogant his behavior could be.
But now—for her sake—he was learning to show restraint and manners.
That once sharp and unbridled youth was now silently standing guard outside her door, like a beast that had learned to sheath its claws.
The dazed expression on Chai Xiaomi's face did not go unnoticed by Xiangyun. Following her gaze, she turned her head and immediately guessed who was outside.
She took the hint, said her goodbyes, and was about to leave.
"Xiangyun," Chai Xiaomi suddenly called after her.
She turned back to see Xiaomi pulling open a wooden drawer beneath her desk, taking out one bright red card from a stack, and holding it out to her.
"Here. Make sure to come to my wedding feast."
Xiangyun took it, stunned, and looked down.
On the red invitation were two adorable cartoon figures, their expressions vivid and lively, instantly recognizable as Xiaomi and her husband.
Her gaze unconsciously swept over the drawer.
Ziyan, Caixia, Jiaojiao, Meng'er...
Name after name, card after card, neatly stacked, filling the drawer to the brim.
Xiangyun recalled the courtesans and musicians of the Illusion Sound Pavilion—they had all privately discussed among themselves that on that day, they would stay quietly in their rooms and keep their doors shut.
As women of the night, they didn't want to embarrass Xiaomi at her happy occasion.
But they had no idea that Xiaomi had already written a proper invitation for every single one of them, with all her heart.
After Xiangyun left, a small head immediately popped around the doorframe.
Chai Xiaomi poked his arm with her finger and pouted, "Why didn't you come in sooner? Were you planning to stand there all day?"
Wu Li glanced sideways at her. In his hand, he also held a bowl—filled with congee.
His tone was sour, as if he had suffered a great injustice: "You enjoyed her delicious wontons so much, I'm afraid you can't stomach my bland, flavorless rice congee anymore."
"Who said so?"
Xiaomi snatched the bowl from his hand and argued confidently, "This congee is just right for me. 'Xiaomi' eating 'Xiaomi congee'—I should eat what I'm made of."
Thinking about how she accidentally broke his hangover soup the day before filled her with lingering regret. Paying no mind to just having finished a bowl of wontons, she wolfed down the congee.
The taste... well, it was a bit odd.
But she raised her eyebrows and still declared, loud and clear, "Delicious!"
Finally, a bright sparkle lit up his gloomy face.
He followed her obediently into the room.
After closing the door, Chai Xiaomi asked suddenly, "Lili, I heard Ouyang Huai was badly wounded during the soul-summoning ceremony—that he doesn't have much longer. Was it your doing?"
Wu Li turned his face away, not daring to meet her eyes. His hand hanging at his side clenched unconsciously.
"I didn't get blood on my hands," he offered evasively, his voice dropping low.
She stared into his unfathomable, deep irises.
"So you were the shadow leading the charge?"
His lashes trembled. In the end, he couldn't lie to her. It took effort, but he finally forced out a single word: "Yes..."
"He got what he deserved." Chai Xiaomi took his hand and gently tapped his nails. "As long as you didn't dirty your hands, it's fine."
Yes. That was Wu Li.
He had never shied away from taking responsibility for his actions—he would not dodge it.
But why, when it came to the matter of the White Cat, was he so evasive, neither admitting nor denying anything?
Chai Xiaomi silently watched him, a different thought stirring in her heart.
Given Wu Li’s cunning, if he truly intended to harm Old Ji, he would never leave any loose ends. How could he have allowed the White Cat the chance to come and tattle to her?
She felt that this move of his was not really about hurting Old Ji.
It felt more like a threat.
Or perhaps a way to vent some unspoken resentment.
Chai Xiaomi looked at his current state, both angry and heartbroken.
This stubborn, twisted man would rather choose to apologize than reveal his true feelings, his mouth tighter than a clam shell.
