The wind swept through the alleyway, swirling with fallen leaves. Behind his back, Cangshu Bai’s fingertips moved in a slight pinch; the withered leaf that had been about to land in Mu Ran’s hair instantly disintegrated into dust, vanishing into the cool breeze.
Mu Ran was busy nibbling on a sweet osmanthus cake, her cheeks puffed out like a little squirrel. She was entirely oblivious to the terrifying purple bruising on the old woman's face beside her, nor did she notice the chilling murderous intent stagnating in the air.
She only felt that Cangshu Bai was exceptionally gentle today. His movements as he fed her the cake were slow and light, and when his fingertips brushed the corner of her mouth, they carried a faint, lingering warmth.
The old woman's throat was being crushed by an invisible force, and her internal organs felt as though they were being ground to pieces. From the depths of her consciousness came Cangshu Bai’s voice—indifferent yet bone-chillingly cold—each word stabbing into her soul like a blade.
"How long has the Changqing Sect been involved in this business?"
"Seventy... seventy-some years..." The old woman squeezed the words out with the last of her strength. Her eyes bulged slightly from the lack of oxygen as she looked at the young man who still maintained a mild expression. The terror in her heart threatened to swallow her whole.
In the past, while the Cangshu family still existed, the Changqing Sect hadn't dared to act so brazenly. Once the Cangshu family fell, they had begun to crawl out of the shadows.
Even so, to avoid trouble, they didn't dare touch anyone from the great clans or prominent sects. They only dared to swindle ordinary people with no background or rogue cultivators with mediocre skills.
Whenever a suitable target appeared in the city, the members of the Changqing Sect lived in constant fear that a fellow disciple would snatch such a perfect "vessel" first. Consequently, they all resorted to various schemes to secure their prey.
Some aimed to capture beautiful young men and women to sell at exorbitant prices. Others, who were old and decaying, sought to take these young bodies for their own use.
The world was never short of those with poor cultivation talent who sought to take wicked shortcuts to achieve longevity; such people were commonly referred to as demonic cultivators.
The old woman appeared to be in her sixties or seventies, with white hair, deep wrinkles, and a hunched frame. When a young woman as beautiful as a flower and without any apparent backing appeared in the city, how could she not be tempted? If she didn't take a gamble now, she would likely just rot away and die of old age.
The old woman had calculated everything, but she had failed to account for the fact that this seemingly ordinary man was actually a master who had hidden his cultivation!
She was merely at the Foundation Establishment stage and couldn't even begin to fathom what realm this man had reached. This unfathomable powerhouse could crush her soul and control her life or death with a mere thought.
Cangshu Bai’s gaze remained fixed on Mu Ran. The corners of his lips curved slightly as his fingers gently brushed away a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His voice was tender and lingering. "Ranran, if you eat too many sweets, you won't have an appetite for dinner. Let's save the rest for tomorrow."
Mu Ran nodded obediently. "Okay."
She had just finished repairing the Eight Immortals table. Cangshu Bai took her hand and bid farewell to the old woman.
"It is getting late, so we shall head back first. Ranran will return tomorrow to fix the rest of your things."
The old woman forced a strained smile. "If you two are busy, I won't trouble you further."
Mu Ran waved her hand dismissively. "It’s no trouble at all. I’m quite handy. If anything in your house is broken, I can try to fix it."
Cangshu Bai added, "It is as Ranran says."
The old woman broke out in a cold sweat, unable to find the courage to utter another word of rejection.
Once Cangshu Bai and Mu Ran left, the old woman immediately tried to rush out of the house, desperate to flee this dangerous alley.
Thinking back now, Duan Minggui from her sect had vanished into thin air. It was likely because he had targeted Cangshu Bai and had been silenced, his very existence erased.
She should have realized something was wrong long ago. There were always rumors of ghosts in this alley, yet Cangshu Bai and Mu Ran lived here as a couple without any trouble. Cangshu Bai was clearly a high-level cultivator who remained anonymous simply because he preferred a low profile.
The old woman wanted to run, but the moment she stepped across the threshold, she felt as if she had slammed into an invisible wall. Immediately after, a splitting headache sent her collapsing to the ground; the pain felt as though her soul was being torn apart.
The man’s voice echoed in her mind.
"My wife stays at home all day and occasionally gets bored. It is not a bad thing for her to find something to do. You should stay here peacefully and be a 'friendly neighbor' to us."
The old woman gritted her teeth, so frustrated she wanted to bash her head against the floor.
How was this a friendly neighborly visit?
This man was clearly imprisoning her here, turning her into a little plaything just to help his wife pass the time!
Under the eaves, the lanterns cast a soft, warm glow, stretching the shadows along the corridor into long, gentle shapes.
Mu Ran’s feet were always cold in the winter. If she slept alone, her feet would never warm up; they were often like blocks of ice, relying entirely on Cangshu Bai’s body heat to thaw. However, since their marriage, he frequently made sure she soaked her feet, and the condition had improved.
That night, Cangshu Bai boiled a pot of mugwort water as usual. He reached out, grabbed a Cold Fish, and gave it a shake, rattling off a bit of frost until the scalding water reached the perfect temperature.
Then, he tossed the Cold Fish aside and personally carried the wooden basin out of the kitchen.
The Cold Fish wobbled its dizzy head in the water and blew two bubbles, looking very much like it was cursing him out.
When Cangshu Bai entered the room, Mu Ran was still leaning over the table, busy perfecting the little trinket in her hands.
"Ranran, come here." He reached out toward her, his voice as soft as falling snow.
Mu Ran stood up obediently. Holding the object in her hand, she walked quickly to the edge of the bed and sat down. Cangshu Bai knelt before her, removed her shoes and socks, and placed her rounded, fair feet into the warm water.
At first, she wasn't used to the temperature and instinctively tried to lift her feet, but as soon as she met Cangshu Bai’s calm, rippleless gaze, she honestly put them back in.
Mu Ran held the item in her hand up to him, almost like she was seeking his approval. "Jinzhi, look! Doesn't it look more like you now?"
In her hand was a small wooden figurine—the Mahora she had shown him before. However, the little wooden man had now been painted. His long black hair was tied up, his dark eyes were round and bright, and his red lips were drawn in a tiny, delicate curve. The clothes on his chubby little body were painted green, making him look incredibly adorable.
In terms of actual features, it didn't look like him, but if one looked closely, the stoic, serious expression was a perfect likeness.
A strange term popped into Mu Ran’s head—"Chibi version."
But she was also confused because she didn't actually know what those words meant; the image was simply there in her mind, and thinking it was cute, she had created it.
She asked, "Do you like it?"
Cangshu Bai’s brow softened. "I like it."
A smile bloomed on Mu Ran’s face as she placed the Mahora into his hand. "I applied several layers of color to it. It won't fade even after hundreds of years. You can't buy this anywhere else. In the whole world, you are the only one with such a unique Mahora."
