Wu Ping’an left the manor.
Ji Yuwei hadn’t lied to her.
The moment she stepped out, she breathed a sigh of relief. Standing on the broad street, gazing at the bustling scene ahead, she finally felt a sense of solidity.
Inside Ji Manor, she had always felt a false, dreamlike sensation—as if someone had pasted gilded foil onto a statue of Buddha, pretending it was a golden idol, when in reality, peeling back that thin layer of foil would reveal dark, ordinary stone beneath.
This was the most prosperous area within Jianye City. In an era rigidly divided by social hierarchy, those defined as lowly commoners might never have the chance to set foot on this street in their entire lives. Back then, her blacksmith’s shop had been tucked away in the most obscure, hidden corner.
Wu Ping’an had no time to admire the most bustling street in Jianye; she headed straight for the narrow alleys designated as the slums.
Having been away for several days, the slums remained unchanged. The people there, numb from the struggle to survive, mechanically repeated the same tasks day after day. Upon seeing Wu Ping’an dressed in a splendid, patterned silk robe, they mistook her for a noble from some wealthy household and knelt on the ground in dazed reverence to greet her.
She hurried toward her house.
The house was still there, but perhaps because she had been away for a few days, thieves had deemed it worthy of a visit. The copper coins she and Ade had saved, along with the box containing Ade’s ashes, were gone.
A chill instantly swept through her entire body. Unable to stand, she slumped to the ground, staring blankly at the empty space before her.
Ade’s ashes were gone. Where could she possibly go to find them?
Determined to search for Ade’s ashes, Wu Ping’an did not return, and Ji Yuwei never sent anyone to look for her.
She searched all night, asking everyone nearby, even nearly digging up the soil in her home, but still found nothing.
At dawn, the faint morning light filtered through the gaps in the roof tiles, casting dim rays into the room. Wu Ping’an sat by the window, lost in thought.
She truly couldn’t find them.
In that moment of despair, Ji Yuwei suddenly crossed her mind.
It wasn’t that she suspected him of stealing the ashes, but rather, she thought of his status—perhaps he could help locate Ade’s ashes urn.
With this thought, she immediately rose and left the place.
Relying on the jade pendant, Wu Ping’an returned to Ji Manor.
Ji Yuwei seemed to have just risen, bathed, and changed in Apricot Grove. When he came out to see her, he wore loose robes with wide sleeves, his damp hair cascading down to his waist. He walked barefoot across the ground, carrying with him a faint, cool fragrance of flowers and medicinal herbs.
“Ping’an.”
It was as if he had just heard of her return and couldn’t wait to come. A few petals still clung to the slender tops of his feet, which were pale enough to emit a soft glow, spared from dirt by the moss carpeting the ground.
Wu Ping’an had never understood the peculiar fascination some had with feet, but after stealing several glances at Ji Yuwei’s feet, she inwardly sighed—it turned out she was a pervert too, finding his feet so captivating she could hardly look away.
“Wei thought Ping’an would return later, so I was just bathing and hadn’t yet lit incense. I’ve kept you waiting,” Ji Yuwei said as he sat before her, seemingly unaware of her lingering gaze. As he poured tea, his damp hair trailed like dark mountain ranges along his elegant neck.
Wu Ping’an had no idea he had so many morning rituals. Sitting upright before him, she replied, “No, it’s my fault for coming in such a hurry.”
Ji Yuwei warmed some wine and pushed it toward her, his dark eyes smiling. “Does Ping’an have something to ask of Wei?”
She hadn’t returned all night, rushing to Ji Manor at the break of dawn and even stumbling upon Ji Yuwei’s morning bath—it was indeed because she needed to ask him for help.
Wu Ping’an bit her lip, her voice soft and gentle. “I’ve lost something and would like to ask for your help in finding it.”
“Very well,” he replied without hesitation, nodding as soon as he heard her request.
Wu Ping’an looked up at him. The youth’s narrow phoenix eyes held a sincere clarity, like ripples across clear water, making one instinctively trust him.
“Thank you.” Wu Ping’an didn’t know how to describe her feelings at this moment. It was like that day in the cramped golden cage, when she thought she was going to die but suddenly encountered a beam of light.
Ji Yuwei’s gaze swept over the gratitude on her face, his smile deepening. His fingers resting on the white porcelain tapped lightly with pleasure as he comforted her: “Since Ping’an came to find me, what you lost must be extremely important. Wei should be thanking Ping’an for thinking of Wei first when trouble arose.”
“Young master is my friend here. I could only think of you.” Wu Ping’an lowered her head and lifted the ceramic cup before her.
Regarding Ade’s matter, she hadn’t originally wanted to seek his help, but aside from him, she couldn’t think of anyone else.
Before yesterday, she never would have imagined that the last person she’d think of when in trouble would be Ji Yuwei.
Ji Yuwei was delighted by her seeking his help. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes rippled with spring-like charm: “Ping’an, tell Wei in detail—what are you looking for?”
When Wu Ping’an told him about Ade, she worried he might regret it upon hearing that Ade had once offended Ji Yulian. Fortunately, the kind-hearted youth didn’t utter a single negative word, telling her to wait in the manor for a few days.
With Ji Yuwei’s assistance, Wu Ping’an waited in the manor for news.
Being in the manor wasn’t much different from being outside. She could come and go freely, and occasionally Ji Yuwei would invite her to play music and sing together.
This version of Ji Yuwei made her increasingly feel he was merely an icy-jade youth with some aristocratic clan nobility.
Later, she thought: perhaps the book and reality contradicted each other. One cannot judge people by appearances; only through genuine interaction can one understand human nature.
After half a month of such interaction, Ji Yuwei suddenly had a page boy summon her to Apricot Grove.
On the way, the page boy said with a smile that Ji Yuwei wanted to give her something good. Wu Ping’an couldn’t help but feel happy—she had stayed at Ji Manor for over half a month; surely they had found Ade’s urn.
Sure enough, upon entering the inner courtyard, she saw the youth dressed in a snow-white wide-sleeved gauze robe holding a wooden box. Standing beneath the tree like an enchanting fragrance-spirit or ghost, with long brows and eyes, lips curved in a smile, he spoke softly and gently, expressing relief.
“I have fulfilled my mission and found what Ping’an wanted.”
Seeing the familiar wooden box in his arms, Wu Ping’an lifted her skirt and ran over, unable to conceal her joy: “Where did you find it?”
It was indeed the wooden box she had used for Ade, with the characters she had carved on it—easily recognizable.
Ji Yuwei handed her the wooden box, led her to sit nearby, and then calmly recounted how he had found it.
“Ping’an wasn’t mistaken—it was indeed stolen. However, the thief initially thought it contained money, but it didn’t, so they casually discarded the box. That’s why Wei had people search for a long time before finding it. I made you wait.”
Wu Ping’an hugged the urn, her face full of gratitude: “It wasn’t a long wait. If not for you, young master, I’m afraid I would never have found it.”
Ji Yuwei lazily sat on the rush cushion, propping his chin with one hand, his beautiful eyes fixed on her plain face with a smile.
At this moment, the vitality that suddenly brightened her ordinary face was different from usual. Ji Yuwei couldn’t pinpoint what was different, only that it felt refreshing and made his tongue tingle.
After a long while, he asked gently with curiosity: “Where will Ping’an place it now?”
Wu Ping’an thought of what Ade had said earlier—that commoners here couldn’t be buried in the ground. Hesitating for a moment, she asked Ji Yuwei: “Young master, can I bury it in the earth? If possible, I am willing to do something for you in return.”
Ji Yuwei chuckled: “Ping’an is Wei’s confidante. A mere plot of land—as long as it belongs to the Ji Clan, Ping’an may take it as she pleases. As for the matter of Ping’an’s verbal promise, however…”
He seemed about to say it was unnecessary, but the words lingered on his lips before being mysteriously swallowed back. As he asked her, he rolled up his sleeves and picked up the ladle, scooping clear tea to pour a fresh cup: “Will Ping’an be staying at the residence today? If you have time, I would like Ping’an to accompany Wei to a place.”
Wu Ping’an thought he wanted her to play music and sing again: “I am free today.”
Ji Yuwei lifted his gaze and smiled: “Then Ping’an, please wait a moment. Wei will go change first.”
Wu Ping’an glanced at him twice and nodded.
He rose and left, leaving behind a room filled with delicate fragrance.
Wu Ping’an sat on the rush cushion, picked up the earthen cup, and took a small sip. A sweet yet astringent taste filled her tongue—only then did she realize it was not tea but fruit wine.
Uncertain what fruit it was brewed from, the flavor was quite pleasant. She took another small sip, wary of dizziness from never having drunk alcohol before. After savoring the taste, she set down the earthen cup and sat quietly, waiting for Ji Yuwei.
Ji Yuwei was different from others. He acted with free-spirited directness, yet when it came to caring for himself, he appeared extremely meticulous. Only after burning incense and changing clothes did he finally return with unhurried steps.
When he reappeared, he had changed into a plain white gauze robe, fragrant and with lips red as if rouged—striking yet not vulgar.
Many men here paid great attention to their appearance, shaving their faces, shaping their eyebrows, applying powder, and tinting their lips. Ji Yuwei, with his love for beauty, naturally indulged in some of these practices as well—his eyebrows had just been trimmed. Yet only when he drew closer did Wu Ping’an notice his face was clear and fair, without a trace of powdery residue.
“Ping’an, let’s go.” He stood before her and extended his hand, intending to help her up.
Wu Ping’an shifted her gaze from his face and did not offer her hand, instead pushing herself up from the table.
Ji Yuwei withdrew his hand, letting it fall into his wide sleeve, the smile on his face fading slightly.
He led the way ahead, while Wu Ping’an followed behind, listening as he explained what they would do today.
“Some of the servants around Wei have grown old or fallen gravely ill and resigned. I have yet to find suitable replacements, so today I would like Ping’an to help me select some.”
He was surrounded by countless young attendants—Wu Ping’an had never seen any elderly ones.
Ji Yuwei said: “There used to be some, but later they often gossiped about Wei behind my back. Seeing they were already advanced in years, I simply sent them away.”
So they were caught gossiping. Wu Ping’an could understand that. Rather than being killed, they were merely dismissed. In this feudal dynasty where class distinctions were terrifyingly extreme, he could already be considered kind.
Although Ji Yuwei was truly different from the character in the book, Wu Ping’an was no judge of character and made this clear to him first.
Ji Yuwei curled his lips and guided her onto the sheep-drawn carriage: “Come, it’s fine. Just accompany Wei to take a look.”
Wu Ping’an followed him onto the sheep-drawn carriage, heading toward the slave market.
The slave market was located on the outskirts of Jianye. Many people came and went, but as a young master of the Ji Clan, there was a separate path for him. Upon entering, the steward personally approached and performed a deep bow, even offering to act as the servant leading the sheep-drawn carriage, but Ji Yuwei declined.
Wu Ping’an glanced at Ji Yuwei, whose tone had lost its earlier warmth and now carried a faint weariness, then looked toward the steward—indeed, his face was utterly plain and unremarkable.
Ji Yuwei truly had a strong preference for beauty—from the pebbles on the paths in his residence and the shapes of the trees to the young attendants around him and his own attire and adornments, everything was aesthetically pleasing and delightful to behold.
Wu Ping’an couldn’t help but touch her own face. Just as her fingers made contact, Ji Yuwei called for her to dismount.
Wu Ping’an withdrew her hand and stepped down from the sheep-drawn carriage.
Without the steward to guide them, the two of them, surrounded by four young attendants clearing the way, proceeded forward. The people around, seeing the exquisite clothing and accessories they wore, voluntarily made way, continuously casting admiring glances their way.
Ji Yuwei was accustomed to such scenes, but Wu Ping’an couldn’t quite bear the intense attention, her face burning hot as she maintained her composure, walking alongside him while observing.
Wu Ping’an noticed many people along the way with ropes tied around their necks, mostly young women and small children. Wooden signs were placed in front of them—the women labeled as ‘No Envy for Sheep,’ the children called ‘Bones and Flesh Stew,’ and the elderly referred to euphemistically as ‘Extra Firewood.’ They were bound together like cattle and sheep, waiting to be chosen by their masters.
Among these people, the slightly older ones were often scorned by buyers, with almost no one standing before them, while crowds competed to select the children and women.
The further Wu Ping’an walked, the heavier her heart grew. Sensing her discomfort with the place, Ji Yuwei beside her whispered in consolation, “Once we pass this stretch of road, it won’t be as noisy ahead.”
In truth, it wasn’t the noise that bothered her. Rather, it was the thought of those labels—’No Envy for Sheep’ and ‘Bones and Flesh Stew’—that reminded her of people who were treated as food.
But this was Jianye, known as the most prosperous city. It shouldn’t be a time of war and famine where people had to resort to cannibalism to survive—otherwise, it would be too horrifying.
After passing that section of the road, the two entered the inner courtyard, stepping into a completely different setting. Inside, ornate lanterns hung high, and fragrant gauze curtains draped down. The walls were adorned with exquisite flying celestial patterns painted in gold leaf. Everyone from the stewards to the servants wore heavy makeup, their faces powdered and rosy.
Wu Ping’an removed her shoes and changed into wooden clogs, kneeling on a cushion. On a nearby stage, many young and attractive men and women were brought forward for Ji Yuwei to choose from.
These slaves were likely the best available. Though unaware of the identities of those below the stage, they recognized wealth and status. To be chosen, they did their utmost to showcase their skills—some could sing, others were skilled in calligraphy, and some could dance…
Somehow, this scene reminded Wu Ping’an of a joke she had once read: an ancient person time-traveled and asked a slave trader to buy slaves, only to search for a long time before realizing there were no slave traders or slaves anymore—only recruiters and laborers, and contracts of servitude had become employment agreements.
There wasn’t really anything funny about it. It was just that witnessing this scene suddenly made her think that throughout history, the oppressed have always been the pitiful slaves. Though suffering was universal, her hometown compared to this place was like heaven—at least there was some semblance of human dignity.
She had only briefly pondered this when Ji Yuwei noticed her preoccupation.
“What is Ping’an thinking about?” he asked, tucking his sleeves and tilting his head. His fair profile was accentuated by soft light as he curiously gazed at the top of her bowed head.
Wu Ping’an hesitated before saying, “Nothing much. I was just reminded of similar scenes from where I come from.”
“Oh.” Ji Yuwei, who had initially shown little interest, suddenly perked up. He no longer focused on the stage, instead resting his chin on one hand and staring intently at her, waiting to hear what she had to say.
Seeing his interest, Wu Ping’an hesitated but didn’t elaborate further. She only said, “We also have large venues like this, called talent markets. But the people there aren’t as pitiful as those here.”
Ji Yuwei didn’t fully understand, but that didn’t diminish his intense curiosity about the otherworld she spoke of.
He could tell—and had tested it multiple times—that Wu Ping’an was educated and held different values. She lacked the subservience of a slave and possessed the courage to defy authority.
From her eyes, her actions, and her tone, it was easy to envision a grand, peaceful, and equal era.
Compared to this idealized vision, what he truly desired was to witness the so-called divine arts. Whether the world was orderly or chaotic mattered little to him—all he wanted was immortality.
Ji Yuwei smiled gently, his gaze steady as he spoke warmly, “The place you mentioned, Ping’an, sounds quite interesting. I’d like to go see it with you someday, if that’s alright?”
Wu Ping’an’s expression fell at his words. “If it were possible, I’d gladly take you to see my world.”
She longed so deeply to return—not just for her parents and friends, but for herself. Yet she didn’t even know if she could ever go back.
Noticing the gloom on her face, Ji Yuwei considered for a moment before speaking unhurriedly, “If you’re searching for a way home, Ping’an, perhaps I can help you.”
Wu Ping’an looked at Ji Yuwei.
The youth wore the plain silk and white gauze robes of an aristocratic clan, his simple cap free of dust. The red mole between his brows lent him a touch of the classic Guanyin countenance—kind, approachable, yet radiating an air of transcendence.
If he was sincere, whether she ever made it back or not, she would never forget him. She would regard him as a confidant in this foreign world, her dearest friend.
“Thank you, Ji Yuwei.” Wu Ping’an’s face broke into the brightest smile since they had met.
Ji Yuwei smiled without replying, lifting his cup to hide the corners of his mouth that he couldn’t suppress from curling upward.
Naturally, he would help Wu Ping’an find a way back to the Divine Realm. As payment, he would take her living essence and replace her as the divine immortal.
Author’s Note:
Black Mud, get ready to cry [shrugs].