Outside Furong Town.
The four followed the trail out of town, to the foot of a desolate, remote mountain. The air grew heavier with demonic energy—so thick that even the others could sense it now.
“What a strong smell!” Cui Mingcan grimaced, covering his nose.
“What kind of scent is that?” Bai Yuhen inhaled slightly, her brow furrowed.
“It’s similar to the fragrance in Fang Wuyan’s tavern—her wine’s scent—and…” Cen Ying closed her eyes, sniffed once more, then opened them with certainty. “It’s peach blossom.”
“Peach blossoms? That strong!?” Cui Mingcan was shocked.
“Seems we’re facing a powerful demon,” Li Tiankuo said quietly, unsheathing his sword.
“Be on your guard,” Bai Yuhen said, summoning her golden serpent back to her wrist. “We move carefully.”
“Understood.”
They stepped into a clearing overgrown with shrubs. Before them lay a dried, lifeless lake. At its edge stood a tall, ancient peach tree in full bloom, petals cascading like a soft rain over a single grave beneath it.
Mountains walled the area on three sides, shrouding it in perpetual shade and cold stillness.
“Who dares trespass here?”
A cold, ethereal voice echoed from all around.
A slender woman emerged from behind the peach tree, clad in a flowing red gown. With each step she took, the large crimson peony flowers embroidered on her robe seemed to ripple and sway.
“Who are you?”
Her voice was naturally bewitching—clearly not the peach blossom demon.
“Why are you killing people?” Cen Ying asked, fingers already holding a silver needle, ready for battle.
“Killing people? Hahahahahaha!” The woman—Peony—laughed until her waist bent. “You must be joking. Do you think those things we killed were people?”
“…” Cui Mingcan’s tone sharpened. “What grudge do you have against them? Why collude with the peach blossom demon?”
Peony’s laughter faded. Her cold eyes swept over them.
“And why,” she countered, “are you helping those murderers?”
Bai Yuhen asked calmly, “They killed Fang Wuyan?”
“…” Peony’s lips twitched as if she wanted to laugh, but sorrow overtook her expression.
“No. They didn’t kill her directly.”
Her eyes burned with fury. “But they’re the reason Linchun died!”
“Linchun? That was her name?”
Peony turned toward the grave. The headstone was of fine white stone, carved in red ink:
Tomb of Fang Linchun, Daughter of the Fang Family.
Her pale fingers brushed petals from the stone as she spoke softly, “Linchun was kind—too kind. Easy to hurt, and far too stubborn.”
Then, turning to face them again, Peony smiled bitterly. “Let me tell you a story.”
“Once, there was a little girl named Linchun. Born in spring, loved by her whole family. She was the prettiest girl in all ten villages. Her parents owned a thriving winery, and life was peaceful.”
Peony leaned against the grave as she spoke, her voice fragile with grief.
“But envy burns hotter than fire. One night, their house went up in flames. The fire raged so long that half her body was seared beyond recognition. Someone saved her—a kind soul—but with her face ruined, people said she was cursed. They said she’d brought misfortune, that it was her fault her family died. Why else would she be the only one left alive?”
“She was driven out, despised, feared.”
“Later, she came to Furong Town. She survived by brewing wine—her family’s craft.”
“In the beginning, people scorned her because of her face. But she was gentle, humble, never lashed back. Over time, they pitied her—but still kept their distance.”
“Who’d drink a monster’s wine?”
“What if she poisons us?”
“That half-burned face—she must be cursed!”
“Drink her wine, and you’ll turn ugly too!”
“Disgusting thing!”
“Bad luck!”
“Makes me sick just looking at her!”
…
“‘Hey, are you trying to kill yourself?’”
That was the voice that saved her.
Startled, Linchun looked up. The water had reached her calves.
“N-no…” she stammered, lowering her head in shame. Her hoarse voice cracked. Her long fringe hid half her ruined face.
She didn’t dare look at the woman—anyone with such a sweet voice had to be beautiful. Linchun didn’t want to taint her with her ugliness.
Peony saw through her lie instantly. “Then what are you doing standing in the lake?”
“I… I dropped something.”
A lie. Peony knew it.
“Did you find it yet?”
“…No.”
“Then how long will you keep soaking there?”
“…”
“What did you lose? I’ll help you look.”
“Madam, don’t!” cried her servant, Qingyan. “We’ll be scolded if you go into the water!”
“Stay there, Qingyan.”
Splash—
The water rippled, and Qingyan screamed.
She had stepped into the lake.
Linchun glanced back in disbelief. Today was not a good day to die, she thought. Maybe she’d find another lake, one without witnesses. She didn’t want to trouble anyone.
But when she turned—and saw her—the thought dissolved.
The woman before her was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Ah! A ghost!”
Qingyan screamed when she saw Linchun’s face. Linchun panicked, covering her face and diving into the water again.
Splash—
But she was yanked back out, dragged into the sunlight.
Her soaked hair clung to her skin, revealing every scar. She covered her face, trembling.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked.
“Don’t worry about me—go back up,” Linchun muttered, her voice muffled.
“Not unless you come up too.”
“…” Linchun had never met someone like this. Flustered, she let the woman pull her ashore.
When Peony saw her still clutching her head, she smiled faintly. “Come on, take this. Change before you catch a chill.”
Linchun’s nose stung. “…Thank you.”
“For what?” Peony asked, draping her cloak over her shoulders, covering her completely.
Linchun’s voice trembled. “For giving me a little dignity.”
“May I know your name?”
After a pause, she whispered, “Fang Wuyan.”
“Wuyan, like ‘speechless upon the western tower’? Why such a name—because you don’t talk much?”
“…” Linchun didn’t know what she meant. “No… the salt you use for cooking.”
“Wuyan… unsalted,” Peony murmured, her lips tightening. The word “Wuyan”—“without salt”—was a cruel nickname for ugliness.
“I didn’t mean your name,” she said softly.
Linchun froze, then lifted her head before lowering it again quickly. No one had asked for her real name in years—not since her parents died. Everyone just called her the “ugly one.” Even she’d grown used to it.
“You won’t tell me?”
The cloak rustled.
“…My name’s Fang Linchun.”
“A lovely name,” Peony said with a smile. “I’m Peony.”
“Your name’s pretty too,” Linchun whispered. Her ears burned. “And you… you’re very beautiful—like a peony.”
“Thank you, Linchun.”
“…”
For the first time, Linchun thought her own name sounded beautiful.
“Thank you.”
“Miss,” Qingyan urged softly, “we’ve been gone too long. We should go back.”
Peony sighed, removing her mask and handing it to Linchun.
“Don’t go into the lake again. Whatever you lost—let it go. You’re still alive, and that’s enough. I’ll come find you again next time, alright?”
“…”
Linchun didn’t know how she replied—or if she did at all—but she never went back into that lake. Maybe her will to die had slipped away.
She wore Peony’s cloak and mask, covering her scars and her shame. That day, she thought, must have been a good one—because she met an angel.
“Linchun thought I saved her,” Peony said now, tears glistening. “But that same night was my first time serving a client—a wealthy merchant. Everyone said I was lucky. But I wasn’t. I was disgusted, powerless. My fate was sealed the day I was born—a plaything to be sold, used, discarded. Maybe one day I’d be a concubine, or if lucky, buy my freedom and die alone in some faraway town.”
Tears slid down her face, splashing on the grave like rain.
“That day, meeting Linchun was heaven’s mercy. We talked often after that—about our lives, our pain. It was like sharing it made it hurt less.”
“She never despised me for being a courtesan. And I never cared that her face was scarred.”
“We were two flickering flames—weak alone, but together, we could keep warm.”
“We promised to go north to the capital, south to the rivers, to find a place where no one knew us and live quietly.”
Her expression twisted with rage. “But they ruined it all!”
“If that man Gu Feng hadn’t coveted Linchun’s winemaking, hadn’t tricked and humiliated her—if not for him and his future brother-in-law—she’d still be alive! She wouldn’t have hung herself!”
“So that’s why you killed them?” Cen Ying asked softly, torn between pity and dread.
“And the peach blossom demon—why did it help you?” Cui Mingcan demanded. “What deal did you make?”
Peony laughed bitterly. “Deal? There was no deal. Even a demon has more loyalty than a human.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I don’t care who you are. Until we’ve sent those murderers to join Linchun, you’re not leaving this place alive.”
“You—!”
(To be continued…)