The fallen leaf was crushed in Rong Ji’s hand, staining her pale fingertips with dark green juice.
“In Granny Mei Si’s eyes, even the orchid worn on one’s head seemed to become evidence of a crime. But what crime did she commit?” Rong Ji murmured. “For a long time, I was perplexed by that question.”
“Back then, there was nothing I could do. I would go to the shrine and kneel in prayer, hoping the God would give me an answer. But perhaps I knew nothing and prayed the wrong way, for the God never replied. Or perhaps there was another reason.”
“Does a God truly exist? I am not sure,” she said, uttering words that would be considered ultimate heresy in Ganmu City.
“Later, as I grew up, I finally understood. If there is a place where women cannot wear flowers as they please, where they must live in constant fear while the abusers are never held accountable, then it is the place itself that is wrong.”
She spoke slowly, “I am going to change all of this.”
The System provided a timely prompt: 【Side quest completion: 70%.】
Sang Ruo noticed the prominent green stains on Rong Ji’s fingertips. She thought for a moment and stood up, reaching into her sleeve only to remember she had already given her handkerchief to Jilan.
Using her fingers as a blade, she quietly sliced off a piece of her inner sleeve. Since she was wearing the multi-layered ceremonial robes for Divine Attendants, cutting a small section of the white inner fabric went unnoticed.
“Your fingers are dirty.”
She handed over the snowy-white cloth. Rong Ji looked down as she took it, her cold expression softening. When she saw the pattern on the fabric, she paused. “I will wash this and return it to you tomorrow.”
Sang Ruo tucked her hands back into her sleeves. “No need. Just throw it away.”
“Throw it away?”
“Throw it away.”
Rong Ji gave her a deep, searching look. “A Ruo, have you heard the legend? A mortal hid a celestial maiden’s feather robe so she could never return to the heavens.”
Sang Ruo didn’t understand why Rong Ji would bring that up. Since Rong Ji usually called her by her full name, Sang Ruo’s focus shifted slightly. She reached out absentmindedly. “If you do not want it, give it back. I will dispose of it.”
“I never said I did not want it.” Rong Ji lowered her eyes and meticulously wiped the plant juice from her fingertips. She then tucked the cloth carefully into a hidden pocket in her sleeve.
“Shall we take a walk?” Rong Ji asked.
“Of course.”
Only after following her for a while did Sang Ruo realize the implication of Rong Ji’s words. Her ears turned a sudden, brilliant red. It was too late to argue or take the cloth back, so she could only complain to the System: “What kind of metaphors is she using?”
If Rong Ji hadn’t mentioned that legend, Sang Ruo wouldn’t have thought twice about a scrap of fabric. But with the legend attached, the gesture took on an unintended, lingering intimacy. In human culture, such personal items were often imbued with significant meaning.
The System shared her indignation: 【Exactly! Feather robes, celestial maidens… it’s all feudal nonsense!】
“What is ‘feudal’?” Sang Ruo asked.
The System: 【…】
The two strolled along the garden path. Rong Ji continued her story, her tone no longer as flat as stagnant water but carrying a touch of reflection.
“It was through that incident that I realized the ‘power’ I held was merely scraps dropped from Granny Mei Si’s fingers. She could take it back whenever she wished; I only had what she chose to give. Later, I saw a word in a book that described it perfectly: ‘puppet’.”
This was why Mei Si taught her nothing and let her play; it was better if she remained ignorant. Yet, that Divine Attendant had left a fleeting trace on her childhood like a shooting star—a seed that had been planted.
After years of confusion and suppression, that seed had finally drawn enough nutrients and water to push through the heavy soil.
“Later, I investigated the matter and found the aftermath was even worse than I imagined.”
“Shortly after Lan Jiu died, her family’s home was burned to the ground. Not one of the five family members survived. I also discovered that Lan Jiu did not commit suicide. She was…”
Rong Ji paused, her voice turning bone-chillingly cold. “A person as optimistic as she was would never choose to end her own life. I should have realized sooner.”
The System summarized: 【So the Young City Lord killed Lan Jiu, staged it as a suicide, and then murdered her family to eliminate anyone who might seek an investigation?】
Sang Ruo sneered. “It wasn’t necessarily out of fear of investigation, since no one could touch him. He likely just found them troublesome.” He didn’t want little bugs jumping in front of his eyes, ruining his fun.
Rong Ji’s fists clenched and then relaxed as if finding some peace. She continued, “Other attendants came and went. Then, by chance, I took in a homeless little girl.”
“She was assigned to the Lan section and took over the number of an elderly attendant who had retired.” A hint of warmth entered Rong Ji’s voice. “Coincidentally, her number included ‘Nineteen.’ Perhaps fate wanted me to make up for certain regrets.”
Sang Ruo: “That attendant is Lan Nineteen? And you brought her to your side.”
“There are few people I can trust. She is one of them, having been brought into the Divine Court by my own hand.” Rong Ji smiled.
Sang Ruo looked at her deeply. In the original plot, both Rong Ji and Lan Nineteen met tragic ends. Rong Ji never achieved her wish of changing Ganmu City; she trusted the wrong person, lost her God, and eventually took her own life. Lan Nineteen, her closest confidant, followed her shortly after. Truly, she lost everything she wanted to protect and achieved nothing she set out to do.
As Rong Ji finished speaking, the System announced the completion of the task: 【Side quest: ‘Pastry Shop Mystery’ 100% complete. Plot filled in. Distributing rewards.】
【Reward: 100 Energy Points. Total account balance: -1100 Energy Points. 1x Lottery Draw. Would you like to use the draw now?】
“Only 100?” Sang Ruo lamented how hard it was to earn points. If she didn’t pick up the pace, she wouldn’t even have enough to buy a physical body by the end of this world. “Save the draw. The side quest is done, but my work here is far from over.”
The sky had turned overcast. Clouds obscured the moon, and cool raindrops began to fall.
“We shouldn’t stay out any longer.” Sang Ruo wiped a drop of water from her cheek and asked Rong Ji, “Do you feel better?”
Rong Ji tilted her head, looking at the woman beside her. Sang Ruo was usually cold and ruthless, a person with zero patience, yet today she had shown a completely different side.
Rong Ji lowered her lashes to hide her thoughts. “Much lighter. I always thought saying these things would be difficult.” She curled her lips into a smile.
Sang Ruo replied, “It is because the time was right.”
As the rain intensified, Rong Ji held her hand out in front of Sang Ruo, hovering there. “Here.”
Sang Ruo hesitated, then placed her hand in Rong Ji’s. “This is…”
Rong Ji laughed and pulled her forward. “Let’s go back!”
Sang Ruo was led into a light jog. Raindrops cut through the air around them, splashing on the bluestone path. The world was silent except for the rhythmic patter of the rain.
They passed the great lake, its surface ruffled by the rain, blurring their reflections. The warmth from Rong Ji’s palm was real. For a moment, it felt as though they had escaped the noise of the world—no schemes, no blood feuds, and no gap of thousands of years.
Sang Ruo felt as though she were back in the days before her friend had left. They were young, running through the rain in thin clothes, knowing nothing of sorrow. In a place Rong Ji couldn’t see, the corners of Sang Ruo’s mouth curved upward.
Soon, bright lights appeared ahead. Lan Nineteen was standing outside with an umbrella, looking anxious, with Jilan behind her. Sang Ruo instinctively pulled her hand away from Rong Ji’s.
Rong Ji: “…”
As the warmth vanished, Rong Ji felt a sudden emptiness. She looked down at her empty palm.
Lan Nineteen rushed forward. “Lady Priest, Miss Sang! Where did you go? Jilan and I searched almost the entire courtyard!”
Rong Ji composed herself. “Oh, it was nothing. We just went for a stroll.”
Lan Nineteen didn’t understand what there was to see at night—were they out feeding mosquitoes? She nodded blankly. “As long as you’re safe. Let’s go inside; your clothes are wet.”
Inside, dry clothes and hot water were ready. Sang Ruo changed out of her damp robe and asked Lan Nineteen, “Is there a kitchen in the courtyard?”
Lan Nineteen nodded. “Do you need to use it? I can take you there.”
Rong Ji emerged in casual clothes. “What are you two doing?”
Sang Ruo said, “The food at the banquet wasn’t much to speak of, was it? I’m going to make some pastries.”
Banquets for high officials were never meant for actually eating. Rong Ji had anticipated this and eaten beforehand, but after everything that happened, Sang Ruo’s suggestion made her realize she actually was hungry.
Lan Nineteen offered, “I shouldn’t trouble you with pastries. I’ll call someone to deliver a portion.”
“No,” Sang Ruo shook her head, a dark current flowing in her black eyes. “From this day forward, do not eat anything sent from outside.”
Lan Nineteen: “Huh?”
Rong Ji sensed something was afoot and interrupted, “I’ll go with her. I want to learn too.”
And so, Lan Nineteen was relieved of her duty.
The kitchen was nearby. Sang Ruo walked in and surveyed the space; it looked like a small, rarely used kitchenette. Fortunately, the ingredients were fresh. Since there were no molds, Sang Ruo chose to make pastries that didn’t require them.
“Why did you say that earlier?” Rong Ji asked.
“It’s nothing,” Sang Ruo said. “I just suddenly realized that Mei Si hasn’t held power this long by being a fool. In a few days, you will understand why.”
“Oh…”
Rong Ji watched her. Sang Ruo’s long fingers moved with a practiced, elegant rhythm. It was a beautiful sight. Rong Ji couldn’t help but lean in closer.
She hadn’t expected Sang Ruo to actually know how to cook. Sang Ruo didn’t seem like the type to deal with such mundane tasks; if Rong Ji was a noble lady who never touched the soil, Sang Ruo was a villainous leader who simply wouldn’t deign to do so.
Sang Ruo turned her head and saw Rong Ji’s curious face. Under her long lashes, her amber eyes looked like sweet honey. Sang Ruo’s hands faltered for a second. She quickly lowered her head and focused on the dough.
After a moment, she explained, “I once traveled with a friend. She was perfect in every way, except that her cooking was inedible. I feared she would starve, so I took over that responsibility.”
The Great Heavenly Demon actually had a talent for cooking. The more she did it, the better she became. Under her friend’s prodding, she had learned the signature dishes of every place they visited, eventually becoming as skilled as a professional chef.
As she spoke, her eyes softened.
Rong Ji pursed her lips. “A friend? Now I’m curious. What was she like, the person who made you willing to master such skills?”
What kind of person could make Sang Ruo look like that? She didn’t notice the slight hint of jealousy in her own voice.
“Her…” Sang Ruo’s hands stopped moving.
Rong Ji listened intently.
“She was a fool.”