Chapter 74 – Moonlight Over Verdant Cloud
The carriage wheels clattered over the stone-paved road as Lu Rourou guided Madam Meng Xuan through the city's familiar gates once more. The air smelled faintly of roasting chestnuts from street vendors, the cries of hawkers rising and falling like waves along the bustling thoroughfare.
When they stopped at an inn, Madam Meng turned to her disciple.
"Li Fei, find us a room for the night."
"Yes, Master." Li Fei departed with quiet, measured steps, his expression as even as his voice.
Lu Rourou stayed behind with Madam Meng, idly scanning the crowds outside the carriage window.
"Madam," she said after a moment, "if you don't have anywhere to stay, you can rest within our sect. There are guest rooms, and you're welcome until your matters here are finished."
Madam Meng smiled. "That would be convenient. I only need a few nights—just until I receive the map."
By the time Li Fei returned, they were already on their way toward the Verdant Cloud Sect. The road climbed steadily upward, the bustle of the city falling away behind them, replaced by the rush of waterfalls and the cool breath of pine groves.
Lu Rourou led them directly to her master Tang Meilin, whose warm welcome wrapped around them like a quilt. Two guest rooms were prepared without delay.
Lu Rourou wasted no time. Looping an arm around Li Fei's, she grinned. "Come, I'll show you around!"
Li Fei—who had not agreed, but somehow found himself walking beside her anyway—let himself be tugged along.
They soon crossed paths with Lan Xueyao in the training yard. The moment Lu Rourou spotted her, she broke into a delighted run and nearly bowled her over in a hug.
"Slow down," Lan Xueyao said, steadying her. "You'll trip and fall."
"Jiejie," Lu Rourou said with bright eyes, "you look so handsome today."
Lan Xueyao arched a brow. "Stop joking. Who is this gentleman?"
"This is Li Fei," Lu Rourou replied. "I met him on the road—with Madam Meng Xuan." She leaned in, elbowing Lan Xueyao, and whispered, "I didn't give them a ride because of him, you know. It was because of Madam Meng Xuan."
Lan Xueyao smiled faintly and offered Li Fei a polite bow. He returned it with quiet precision.
Leaning in to whisper back, Lan Xueyao murmured, "He's quite handsome."
Lu Rourou recoiled in exaggerated disbelief. "Where? You must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, Jiejie." She pressed a hand to Lan Xueyao's forehead. "You've got a little fever, too."
"Don't talk nonsense," Lan Xueyao said, brushing her hand away.
From behind them came a dry voice. "What's this loud woman doing here again?"
Lu Rourou turned with a bright grin. "Shixiong! I'm not that loud—don't start."
Shen Yao fanned himself lazily, but his raised brow said otherwise. Li Fei observed silently, noting that if this was Lu Rourou being "not that loud," then she must be truly deafening on other days. Still, the air between them all was warm—like the familiarity of an old home he had never known.
That evening, under a moon full and white as polished jade, the sect gathered for dinner. The great hall glowed with lamplight, the polished wood gleaming beneath its golden warmth.
Yan Zheng sat at the head of the table, the others spread along the sides. Lu Rourou, true to form, was stuffing her mouth without the slightest concern for appearances. Li Fei, seated beside her, gave her a sidelong glance. She caught it, grinned through a mouthful of dumpling, and went on eating.
Lan Xueyao leaned toward Li Fei and said, "Don't worry. She never chokes."
Across the table, Shen Yao clicked his tongue at Lu Rourou's complete disregard for table etiquette.
Yan Zheng raised his wine cup high. "A toast—to all the hardworking people here."
They drank together. Then he raised his cup again, his tone softening. "And this one—for our Xinyu. We all miss him."
The cheer in the hall dimmed to a quiet ache. Smiles turned fragile, tinged with longing.
Lingque entered then, her pale face drawn and her step weary, as if the city's dust still clung to her. Since Xinyu's disappearance, she had lost the lively spark that once made her laugh so easily.
Lu Rourou filled her bowl without hesitation. "Jiejie, eat properly."
Lingque nodded faintly.
Shen Yao spoke next, his fan tapping idly against his shoulder. "Have you all heard? Hua Ling—the Demon Monarch—visits the cliff every year. The rumor is true."
Lu Rourou's eyes lit up. "I heard people have written a lot of stories about Hua Ling and Xinyu—"
Lan Xueyao elbowed her sharply. "Don't be ridiculous."
But Lingque's lashes lowered. She had always known that Hua Ling's feelings for Xinyu were not merely rumor. Her lips curved in a sad, private smile.
Lu Rourou continued anyway, "I bought one. Read it, too. It was good—but heartbreaking. If Xinyu were here, he'd laugh at them."
Shen Yao nodded thoughtfully. "I never thought Hua Ling would go there every year… he must have cared for Xinyu a great deal. Or perhaps it's guilt. In any case, they say his marriage to Chi Ruyan is close."
Yan Zheng's brows rose. "I heard the same from Master. We're all to attend—in the Demon Realm."
Lu Rourou clapped. "Perfect! I can sell my goods there. Gongzi," she turned to Li Fei, "you should come with me too."
Li Fei said simply, "We have to go anyway. Master has a mission there."
Lu Rourou grinned. "Good. If Madam Meng's there, I'll be even happier."
The next morning, Madam Meng sat across from Sect Leader Jiang in the audience hall.
"I've heard much of you," Sect Leader Jiang said with genuine warmth. "I never thought we'd meet here. It's an honor."
"Not at all," Madam Meng replied, bowing slightly. "The honor is mine."
"Do you have business here?"
She hesitated, then said, "I have a disciple at home—his health is fragile. There's a flower that grows only in the Demon Realm, precious and rare. I must obtain it."
Sect Leader Jiang nodded slowly. "As it happens, we are invited to a wedding ceremony there. My disciples will accompany you. Together, we'll find this flower."
Madam Meng bowed again, gratitude glimmering in her eyes.
Far from the sect, near the borders of the Demon Realm, a city thrived in noisy color. Stalls spilled onto narrow streets, selling roasted meats, bolts of dyed silk, painted fans. Street performers juggled knives or breathed fire; peddlers shouted prices; children darted between legs with sticky-sweet candied haw in hand.
Through it all walked a boy in commoner's clothes. His light-green hair was tied up neatly, a beaded bandana resting above his brow. A length of cloth was tied over his eyes, and in one hand he carried a walking stick.
Despite the blindfold, his pace was unhurried. A faint smile curved his lips.
He turned into a quieter alley, the din of the market fading to the rustle of wind between leaning walls. Behind him, a group of men shadowed his steps.
"Now's our chance," one muttered. "Blind brat, all alone."
The boy slowed.
"You'd best hand over your pouch," their leader snarled. "Before we kill you."
The boy tilted his head, smile unchanged. "You don't want to do this."
The thieves laughed. "Why would we fear a blind kid?"
The leader lunged to grab him—only to find himself slammed to the ground before he could blink. Another rushed in, but the boy's hand locked around his neck, sending him sprawling. In a handful of breaths, every man was down, groaning on the cobbles.
"How can he be blind and fight like that?" one gasped before scrambling away.
The boy dusted his hands as if cleaning away a trivial mess. "For two taels, they'd risk their lives? Fools."
He resumed his leisurely walk, stick tapping the ground, one hand clasped behind his back.
Rounding a corner, he bumped into someone.
"My apologies," the man said at once.
"No problem," the boy replied easily.
It was Qingze. He paused, frowning faintly—the blind youth's voice was oddly familiar, yet he could not place it. Of course, he could not know that the boy wore an illusionary mask.
The boy—Xinyu—walked on without pause. Blindfolded, he could not see Qingze's face either.
Passing a fruit stand, he plucked an apple without the laoban noticing and bit into it. Then he settled near a small stage where a storyteller's voice was carrying over the street.
People crowded close, murmuring in anticipation.
"Long ago," the storyteller began, "there was an elegant man known as Hua Ling—the Demon Monarch."
Xinyu froze mid-bite. It had been so long since he had heard that name, he could not remember when last it had reached his ears.
"The Demon Monarch," the storyteller continued, "was the gods' most favored creation—his beauty enough to steal breath, his gaze cold enough to still it. If you saw him, you would faint; if you met his eyes, you would freeze… yet be unable to look away."
The crowd sighed, enchanted.
"And now—this Hua Ling will soon wed."
Xinyu's smile faded. Wedding? Dianxia… married? He still thought of him by the title that had once been so familiar.
"They say his bride, Chi Ruyan, is a perfect match—heaven's couple. Yet…" The storyteller's tone dropped, drawing everyone nearer. "Yet, there are whispers. Since the incident with Chen Xinyu, Hua Ling has visited the cliff where it happened every year."
Xinyu's hand tightened around the apple. Could it be… he still thinks of me?
Then he shook his head, almost sharply. No. Impossible.
The storyteller's words wove on, but Xinyu's thoughts were already tangled in a knot he could not undo.