The woman in the cage—in Ji Yuwei’s eyes, she could barely be considered a woman.
Her skin was visibly sagging and sallow, devoid of any feminine grace. Her body was caked with mud from who-knows-where, dried on her trouser legs like a yellow dog that often rolled in the dirt, her hair disheveled and split at the ends.
In short, she hardly met his standards of beauty.
So ugly that Ji Wulang, who had always favored beauty, felt a wave of gloom rise in his dark, clear cat-like eyes, along with intense disgust and revulsion.
He loved beauty, elegance, and all things exquisite and graceful in the world. Naturally, he also despised repulsive and ugly things—even slaves had to be the most beautiful. The woman in the cage was arguably the most unsightly he had seen in the past decade. It wasn’t her features but the grimy, dusty filth covering her entire body.
But she was the one he wanted. Gloom settled in his eyes as he raised a hand and tapped the edge of the cage.
The clanging noise startled Wu Ping’an awake.
Against the light, she woke groggily, her vision still blurred with sleep. She couldn’t clearly make out the visitor’s appearance, but she could glimpse his jet-black hair, the white jade crown, and the exquisite drape of his robes, their edges shimmering with a silvery sheen.
This was an era where men could paint their eyebrows, apply powder, wear skirts, and adorn themselves with flowers. So she could even detect a faint, cool floral scent emanating from him, reminiscent of flowers after rain.
Wu Ping’an blinked away the haze of sleep and finally saw the person before her clearly.
He was a young man, not much older—by her estimation, perhaps around eighteen. His appearance was extraordinarily beautiful. At first glance, Wu Ping’an was so struck by his beauty that she found it hard to regain her composure.
His beauty was not effeminate. He had long eyebrows, a high nose, eyes as dark as lacquer, and lips as red as if painted with vermilion. His features were sharp and deep, like an exquisitely carved statue chiseled bit by bit. The extreme darkness of his eyes and hair contrasted starkly with his pale, almost transparent skin, where veins were faintly visible, giving him a complex aura of fragility, sickness, and yet vitality.
He was looking at her, his gaze calm and indifferent, as if observing a mayfly with a lifespan of a single day.
“You…” Wu Ping’an began in a hoarse voice, but the young man before her raised a slender, pale index finger to his crimson lips, signaling silence.
“Don’t speak,” he said, his voice cool, gentle yet firm, each syllable softened to an almost melodious degree, making it impossible to discern whether his intentions were good or ill.
Wu Ping’an fell silent, pursing her lips, wondering who this person was who had appeared so inexplicably.
Was it Ji Yuwei?
But he seemed too young—so young that he didn’t quite match the youthful image described in the book. Instead, he resembled a high school student who had just graduated upon coming of age, seemingly gentle and refined, easy to deceive.
Even so, Wu Ping’an watched his every move with a hint of wariness. She saw him lift the hem of his floor-length robe and sit gracefully on the pristine lotus-patterned floor, which was so clean it could reflect one’s face.
The young man placed his hands demurely on his knees, his brows slightly furrowed as he gazed at her as if she were a devout woman blessed by the gods. He asked gently, “I just heard you tried to escape. Why did you run? But speak softly—I have an ear condition and cannot tolerate certain sounds.”
The cage’s height was limited, so Wu Ping’an couldn’t stand. Instead, she mimicked his posture, kneeling and sitting back on her heels. Lowering her voice, she replied, “Those people captured me, claiming I killed a young lady of the Ji clan. But I didn’t do it. Not only did they misunderstand, but they also refused to listen to my explanation. I didn’t know where they were taking me, so I tried to escape.”
After speaking, Wu Ping’an didn’t know whether he believed her or not, and was pondering whether this person was actually Ji Yuwei, when she heard the young man’s voice come through without hesitation, firm and resolute.
“I believe you.”
He looked at her, his eyes clear and bright, causing Wu Ping’an in the cage to visibly startle, clearly not expecting such a response.
But she quickly glanced up at the young man above, hesitating before asking first, “May I ask how I should address you, sir?”
He seemed surprised that she would ask such a question, remained silent for a few breaths, then slowly replied, “Wu.”
Wu… not Ji Yuwei?
Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily. How could the young man before her possibly be Ji Yuwei? She remembered that the novel began with Ji Yuwei’s coming-of-age ceremony. In the Dongli Dynasty, a man’s coming-of-age was at twenty, so from the start, Ji Yuwei was depicted as a young adult.
Although Wu Ping’an knew the person before her might not be Ji Yuwei, she still cautiously probed, “But the person who invited me earlier claimed that it was Ji Wulang who wanted to see me?”
“This servant is he.” Ji Yuwei rested his chin on his jade-like hand, his words carefully measured and considerate: “I had not yet sent anyone to inform the young lady in advance. Frightening you was this servant’s fault.”
He… is Ji Yuwei?
Wu Ping’an looked at the young man before her, unable to describe the turmoil in her heart at that moment. The feeling was like encountering an innocent-looking schoolboy with a backpack just after school, who suddenly pulls out a Gatling gun from his bag and viciously sprays bullets at her—and it turns out to be a real one that actually fires.
“Why do you believe me?” She felt utterly bewildered, staring at him foolishly, unable to believe that this handsome, youthful gentleman before her was the deranged villain from the book.
Ji Yuwei glanced at the exquisite cage before her, drawing a gleaming dagger from his boot.
A cold glint flashed past Wu Ping’an’s eyelids. She instinctively closed her eyes, but in her ears came the chaotic sound of chains falling to the ground.
The cage door before her was pulled open by the young man’s jade-white, slender fingers, like dark clouds parting in the sky to reveal a sliver of clearing.
Ji Yuwei reached out toward her from in front of the cage, his lake-like clear eyes nearly half-filled with sincerity. “This servant had them bring the young lady to Apricot Grove, never imagining they would lock you in a cage. Come, follow this servant out of the cage, and we shall discuss the details of this matter outside.”
He was truly far beyond her expectations.
Wu Ping’an’s heart raced wildly as she lowered her gaze to look at the hands before her—so beautiful, each finger meticulously cared for with white ointment to achieve such perfection. She swallowed hard but did not offer her hand.
Fortunately, Ji Yuwei was perceptive. Seeing her reluctance to extend her hand, he stepped aside, making room for her to exit the cage.
Although Wu Ping’an knew the young man before her was the villain from the book, after a moment’s hesitation, she still disliked crouching like a captive animal in the cramped, low cage and crawled out.
Once outside, she kept a considerable distance from Ji Yuwei. When she looked up again, she found him smiling.
As if noticing her gaze, he not only smiled but even shed a tear from the corner of his eye. The grain-sized red mole between his brows, dampened, looked as if formed from congealed blood, radiant like a fallen immortal.
Wu Ping’an didn’t know what he was laughing at.
Ji Yuwei made no effort to explain to her. Instead, he clapped his hands, and from outside, servants with bowed heads filed in, carrying melons, fruits, and white pastries. Some knelt on the moon-white carpet spread out, while others arranged low tables, food, and kneeling cushions one by one. Throughout, not a single person raised their head to look directly, their subservience clearly demarcating the social hierarchy.
Wu Ping’an felt extremely uncomfortable and shifted slightly to the side.
No one paid attention to her small movements—except for Ji Yuwei.
He saw that she dared not accept his kneeling, so he waved for the servants to withdraw. His deerhide boots stepped onto the newly laid carpet as he knelt and sat back on his heels, posture elegant, gaze fixed on her. “Please, sit.”
Wu Ping’an had no idea what he was scheming. She imitated his posture, kneeling and sitting back on her heels. The sweet fragrance of melons and fruits before her filled the air, yet she had no appetite whatsoever. She listened as he continued speaking softly and gently.
“Just now, the lady asked why I believed you. It is because I have seen Yu Lian’s corpse. When she was brought to me, half her head had been gnawed away. How could an ordinary human bite through a skull? Naturally, it could not have been you.”
Wu Ping’an had been here for some time now and knew that this was a Low Magic world where humans coexisted with Low-grade Demons and Monsters. These demons and monsters were not particularly powerful and had yet to develop intelligence, but they were exceedingly savage. Therefore, to survive in this era, humans had naturally adapted, giving rise to those who could exorcise demons and had learned to cultivate. However, they were not like the immortals and heroes of legends who could live for thousands or tens of thousands of years with a mere wave of their hand capable of destroying heaven and earth.
The lifespan of cultivators here was the same as that of ordinary people. In such an environment, this had further given rise to the current class disparities, with ordinary commoners still too afraid to rebel or rise up.
Wu Ping’an remained silent for a moment, then looked at the youth across from her.
His clean face was beautiful, untouched by any rouge or powder, naturally fair. The vermilion mark between his brows lent an air of benevolence, making his words seem utterly sincere.
“Since the young master already knows, why did you have someone bring me here?” Wu Ping’an was unaccustomed to addressing people here as “young master,” but she forced the words out nonetheless.
Ji Yuwei, however, seemed quite accustomed to it. He smiled faintly. “Because Yu Lian was my younger sister. Her unexplained death at the jaws of a demon leaves me unable to account for it to my family. Yet someone pointed the finger at you, so I invited you here to discuss the matter in detail.”
Wu Ping’an said, “I only met your sister once.”
Thinking of the deceased Ade, her heart ached. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and looked at him with a clear gaze, hoping he would let her go.
Ji Yuwei’s dark eyes did not waver as he stared at her tear-washed pupils, a faint flicker of fondness reluctantly rising in his heart.
She seemed to have very beautiful eyes. Ji Yuwei had already decided how he would preserve them later. In a pleasant mood, he slowly soothed her, “I know the lady is innocent.”
Wu Ping’an did not hear him say he would let her go. It seemed he still had some purpose, but she and Ji Yuwei were strangers—what could she possibly have that was worth such an elaborate display from him today?
She secretly bit her lip and asked bluntly, “Is there anything else the young master wishes to ask?”
Ji Yuwei smiled lightly and asked only, “I still do not know the lady’s name.”
Wu Ping’an fabricated one: “Ade.”
She had fallen from the sky and was an undocumented person in this place, currently using Ade’s identity token. It felt natural to tell him her name was Ade.
But Ji Yuwei shook his head. The vermilion mark between his brows stood out starkly against his fair skin, making his dark, mercury-like eyes appear bottomless as they stared directly at her without wavering.
“No, that is not your name.”