On the way home, Xie Lan still followed Xie Tao, “Don’t say, sister, your braised pork is really tasty.”
“Go away.”
Xie Tao didn’t get a chance to eat any of the meat, glaring at him angrily.
“It’s not very safe for a girl to go home at night. I, your brother Lan, am considering your safety,” Xie Lan clicked his tongue.
Xie Tao didn’t want to talk to him anymore and just kept walking forward.
Xie Lan escorted her to the entrance of the residential area and then turned around and left.
When Xie Tao looked up at him, she only saw him walking away, his back to her, towards the opposite side. He even waved at her and said, “See you, little sister. Next time, I’ll treat you to some sweet Purple Leaf Water.”
Purple Leaf Water?
Xie Tao instinctively remembered the purple water she had last time.
By the time she snapped back to reality, she saw the young man’s figure disappear without a trace amidst a sudden fog, while the street surveillance flickered a few times, missing all the footage just captured.
She returned to the house she rented, first poured herself a large glass of water and took a few sips, then sat down at the desk.
She took out her cellphone, opened WeChat, and in the chat with Wei Yun, she initiated a voice call.
“I’m back, Wei Yun!”
She said excitedly.
At that moment, Wei Yun was in the Astrolabe Tower of the Great Zhou Forbidden Palace, facing the night breeze, looking at the deep night sky dotted with sparse stars beyond the palace walls.
The night breeze fluttered his wide sleeves, and the copper pendant in his hand emitted a scorching temperature. The golden astrolabe began to float up, rotating with a faint sound, and then, he heard Xie Tao’s voice.
Wei Yun immediately grasped the copper pendant and turned to enter the room.
The double doors closed with the wind from his palm, leaving him alone.
“Why so late today?” he asked as he walked into the inner chamber.
“…It’s another sad thing.”
Xie Tao’s voice sounded muffled.
“Today, I went to that little tavern again, mysteriously…”
She asked him, “Do you remember the tavern? I’ve told you about it before.”
“Mhm,” he responded softly.
Xie Tao told him everything she saw and heard in the tavern today.
She didn’t know whether Wei Yun believed what she said, after all, she wouldn’t believe it herself if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes—the existence of so-called deities, magic, and even mysterious places like that tavern.
What she didn’t know was that the Wei Yun she was speaking to at this moment wasn’t even from the same spacetime as her.
After hearing what she said, Wei Yun’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.
He seemed to remember her mentioning before that the fate not belonging to her, tied to her, was lifted by a middle-aged man called “Old Xi” in that tavern.
But who exactly is this Old Xi?
If that place truly is one that values fate, then why did he actively seek out Xie Tao to free her from the fate bound to her?
Or perhaps, he knows something but is unwilling to disclose it to Xie Tao.
For a moment, Wei Yun felt as though the fog in front of him seemed to reveal a vague outline, yet it was a clue he could never grasp.
He’s not in her spacetime, and he has no way to investigate that so-called mysterious tavern.
Could it be that he can only wait helplessly?
Wei Yun looked down, his eyes darkened.
Since the target is him, if it doesn’t work once, there should be another attempt.
He simply could not believe it; he couldn’t find the slightest flaw.
After all, nothing in this world is ever perfect.
“Wei Yun? Wei Yun, are you listening to me?”
Xie Tao’s voice brought Wei Yun back from his thoughts. He snapped back to reality and responded, “What is it?”
“I said I’m going to do my homework…” The girl’s voice was soft, as if she was eating something.
As she spoke, Xie Tao took out a pile of homework from her backpack beside her.
“Why did those ancient people have to write poems, and then also write prose, records, and tables, making such a long list… Today, the teacher said we have to memorize an entire piece.”
She began to complain softly, “This is really too hard for me…”
“Hard?” He sat down at the table, glanced through a sheer curtain at the endless night outside the carved window, then picked up his teacup and took a light sip.
“It’s simply stupidity, no need for excuses.” His tone was light, as if stating a fact he had always firmly believed.
“…”
Xie Tao was speechless.
She remembered how he knew the contents of the thick book “Zhilun” so well, knowing exactly what was on which page, and she suddenly couldn’t think of a rebuttal.
“If you were willing to focus more, you wouldn’t find this difficult,” Wei Yun hit the nail on the head.
He had already understood her nature over these days.
“Oh.” Xie Tao bowed her head, responding in a low voice.
Hearing the lack of spirit in her voice, Wei Yun paused, then added, “Memorize it silently, and there will be a reward.”
“Is it something delicious?” The girl’s voice noticeably perked up.
“It depends on your performance.”
Wei Yun’s answer was non-committal.
Yet, Xie Tao seemed suddenly motivated, “I got it!”
“…But I have to finish my other homework first.” Her voice deflated a bit again.
After hanging up the voice call, Xie Tao started working on a math paper, but after just one question, it was as if she remembered something, she opened the photo gallery on her phone and found a photo.
It was taken that afternoon while handing out flyers, a photo of her sitting on a bench, wearing the cumbersome costume of Kumamon, with the headpiece off.
When she opened WeChat, she selected the photo option, chose that picture, and hesitated for a while with her finger hovering over it before finally deciding to send it.
She chuckled, her eyes curving up in a smile.
She had seen his portrait, but he probably hadn’t seen what she looked like yet, right?
What she didn’t know was that he had, in fact, already seen what she looked like.
When Wei Yun saw the printed photo of the girl, his fingers lingered on the edges of the photo for a long time.
The girl was naturally graceful and charming, with almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with moisture in the sunlight. She smiled, revealing several white, neatly arranged teeth, looking somewhat silly.
Wei Yun’s eyes softened, as if he felt a moment of emotional fluctuation, but it was just that, a fleeting moment.
His fingers tightened suddenly around the corners of the photo.
Obviously, it was just to uncover the secrets behind the copper pendant and all those mysterious light curtains. Obviously, it was just to expose the person who had been scheming in the dark to bring him to his demise.
But why is his heart so unsettled at this moment?
Dragging her into this matter, using her as a pawn, clearly wasn’t his doing. Yet why does he now, as he looks at her image so vividly before him, suddenly wonder if he made the wrong decision initially?
How long has it been since he last felt such compassion?
This is not a good sign.
Wei Yun instinctively senses it.
But why does he seem… not as resistant as he imagined?
Wei Yun sits at the table, lost in thought for a long time.
