The marketplace.
Song Yin was happily blowing through money with Old Three.
The two of them had been on a frantic shopping spree all afternoon, buying every kind of delicious treat and fun trinket the market had to offer.
Earlier that morning, Song Yin had casually nicked Helan Tan’s coin pouch. It was truly stuffed with all sorts of gold, silver, and jewels; the banknotes inside were thick enough to deal out like a deck of cards.
Not only had she cleared all of Jiang Zuilan’s debts, but she also had enough left over to buy a hoard of novelties. She finally had enough to buy whatever caught her eye.
Jiang Zuilan, having paid her debts, still wanted to thrash the scammers. She had just rolled up her sleeves and turned to leave.
Song Yin squeezed the now-thinning coin pouch. She was in the middle of enjoying her spending spree when she suddenly spotted a familiar blue figure ahead.
Helan Tan had already tracked them down. He wore a smile. “Miss Song, I seem to have dropped something here just now.”
Song Yin clutched the pouch—which was now quite flat—uncertain for a moment whether to keep holding it or hide it behind her back.
Helan Tan’s gaze swept over the pouch before meeting her eyes. He said gently, “Consider it my treat for your afternoon of fun.”
Song Yin pursed her lips unhappily.
The way he talked was truly annoying. What did he mean, “his treat”? This money was clearly obtained through her own skill.
Could anyone else possess such miraculous sleight of hand?
Song Yin quickly scanned her surroundings. This spot wasn’t far from the inn where they were staying. She was terrified that her Master might find her and witness this scene—if that happened, the cat would be out of the bag. Her Master would definitely hold her accountable. She had to lead him away, and fast.
“Let’s talk elsewhere.” Song Yin just wanted to get Helan Tan away. She took a few steps forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward the deeper parts of the street.
She walked incredibly fast, practically dragging Helan Tan toward the eastern market. It was only after they had covered half of the bustling long street that she slowed down slightly.
She was blessed with a full chest and a slender waist. As she held Helan Tan’s arm, the soft, full sensation was unmistakable. Combined with her charming, flirtatious appearance and the way she clung to him in her hurry, they looked like an incredibly intimate couple who trusted each other deeply.
Helan Tan looked down at her, the corners of his mouth curling up. Then, remembering his dignity as a Young Sect Master, he tried his best to suppress the smile.
Once Song Yin saw they were a safe distance from the inn, she finally felt relieved and came to a halt.
She looked up and happened to catch sight of Helan Tan’s lips, which he was forcing into a flat line.
Song Yin grew suspicious. Why did he look like he was in a bad mood? Could it be… could it be that he looked down on her because she was a demon?
What was there to dislike? She was likable in every way!
Song Yin took a few small steps, observing his expression to see if he truly looked disgusted. She had to take two or three steps for every one of his, but he easily kept pace with her.
She tried to lose him on purpose, but his stride was calm and leisurely.
Anger flared in Song Yin’s heart, which made even his tall stature and long legs look irritating to her.
So, she stood dead in her tracks, stared into his eyes, and picked a fight on purpose. “Do you think I’m short?”
She really wasn’t very tall. Even as a child, she had been a head shorter than the other kids. Later, despite being well-fed and raised at the Qunxian Sect, she hadn’t grown much. She was the shortest person in the sect.
Helan Tan’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by the sudden jump in topic, but he took her question seriously. Song Yin glared at him, her apricot eyes like a cat’s.
She was petite; as she tilted her head back, she only reached his shoulder.
Adorable.
Helan Tan answered earnestly, “You are very cute.”
Song Yin grew frantic. “You didn’t say I’m not short! You said ‘cute,’ which means you definitely think I’m short!”
Having found her excuse to be cross, she was now genuinely angry. She turned and stormed off, completely ignoring him.
She had only brought Helan Tan here to get him away from her Master’s sight so he wouldn’t cause her trouble.
The lotus patterns on her skirt fluttered rapidly, like the shadows of lilies dancing on fast-moving water as she angrily tried to ditch him.
Helan Tan hurried to catch up and tried to take her hand, but Song Yin nimbly slapped it away.
It was as if she had eyes in the back of her head. The moment his fingers reached out and barely grazed her fingertips, they were swatted down with a sharp smack.
Helan Tan was undeterred. With his smile unchanged, he tried to take her hand again.
Song Yin pouted, refusing to let him touch her. She moved so fast she was almost a blur, agilely dodging his reaching hand. She ducked left and swerved right, like a cat playing with a fish.
Helan Tan, playing the rogue, simply sped up and grabbed her sleeve.
Song Yin was still wearing the clothes he had given her yesterday. The sleeves were adorned with beautiful peacock feathers, and the outer layer of gauze was as thin as a cicada’s wing, with the bright green tail feathers shimmering.
Afraid the clothes would be ruined, her struggle lost its intensity, and she reluctantly let him hold her sleeve.
Helan Tan pushed his luck. Holding her sleeve, his well-defined fingers gradually tightened on the fabric and slowly moved upward until he finally caught her pinky finger.
His entire hand warmly enveloped her small finger.
Song Yin huffed, letting it go.
Helan Tan looked down at her hand. It was fair, slender, and delicate, with pale pink nails. He could feel the slight tension as she tried to pull away from his palm.
She was truly beautiful. Was this the nature of a Charm Spirit? How could even her fingers be this lovely?
He couldn’t help himself; he applied a tiny bit of pressure with his thumb, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Song Yin was already annoyed. Now, his little movements made her even more irritable.
She stood before the teak counter of a jewelry shop, waiting to pick up a pre-ordered hairpin.
The shop assistant brought out the “Flying Moon Silver Star” hairpin in a box. Song Yin acted naturally; as she reached for the box, she moved her hand swiftly, seizing the chance to break free and forcefully shake off his hand.
She then hugged the jewelry box tightly to her chest with both hands, giving Helan Tan zero room to touch her again.
In the southeast corner of the shop, there was an area for customers to rest. Song Yin sat on a chair and began to put in the hairpin while looking into a bronze mirror decorated with water chestnuts.
Helan Tan knew that this was likely bought with his money, but he didn’t mention the gold. He simply sat down beside Song Yin, resting his chin in one hand and tapping the table with the other, looking for an opportunity to hold her hand again.
He watched her intently as she fixed her hair, a smile on his face. So cute. She looked like a little peacock preening its feathers.
Song Yin thought he was being incredibly childish and shot him a fleeting glance. When her eyes met his, she glared. But Helan Tan’s smile only deepened at her glare, his eyes curving.
Song Yin pouted and moved her gaze back to the mirror, but then she suddenly snapped her eyes back to him, pausing on a specific spot.
She tilted her head, her eyes showing confusion. “Eh? You have a scar on your hand?”
Helan Tan’s leisurely tapping stopped.
There was a terrifying scar on his hand. It ran from the top of the purlicue to the base of his pinky—a horizontal gash that cut across his entire palm, long and deep. The scar tissue was gruesome.
This scar was very deep and had been there for many years.
When Helan Tan was a child—or more accurately, from the moment he was born—he was a “Medicine Human” kept in a dungeon to have his blood drawn at any time. His shoulders, wrists, thighs… everywhere were marks where people from the Medicine Sect had sliced him open with daggers as if they were playing a game.
There wasn’t a single patch of smooth skin on his body; he was covered in a crisscross of scars. Wounds would heal into scars, only to be sliced open again, bleeding anew in a never-ending cycle.
The scar on his palm was the deepest, as it was the most common place for bloodletting.
After he emerged from the dungeon and was transformed into the Young Master of the Medicine Sect, he had endured a pain akin to being reborn to slowly apply medicinal powders and remove every single one of those intersecting scars.
All the other marks from the medicine and blood trials were gone, his skin now clean and smooth as if new. Only this scar on his palm remained.
It was the proof of his shame as a Medicine Human.
He wanted to remember this hatred forever.
Song Yin’s movements were lightning-fast. Almost the moment she finished her question, her hand reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled his hand toward her.
She stared intently at the wound and asked, “Does it hurt?”
She was curious. This clean blade scar looked like it should be raised, but she hadn’t felt it during the several times they had held hands.
During those recent nights, when they were so intimate and he was pinning her down with their fingers intertwined, gasping for breath against the pillow, she hadn’t seemed to notice it either.
Song Yin held his hand and tested it against the softest skin on her body, rubbing her cheek against his palm.
She moved her face slightly from side to side, nuzzling his palm to feel it with her most delicate senses. This scar was flat; it wasn’t raised at all, though it looked monstrous.
She couldn’t feel much of a texture; to be precise, it felt just like a palm line.
She didn’t dare rub too hard, afraid she might hurt him or break the skin.
Helan Tan watched Song Yin as she nuzzled the scar on his palm. The warmth from her face transferred to his hand, and his throat moved as he subconsciously swallowed. He seemed to daze off for a moment, not hearing her question.
Only when her clear, bright gaze met his again did he answer, as if waking from a dream.
“It used to hurt.”
Song Yin continued to stare into his eyes, as if confirming whether he was telling the truth. “Really?”
She leaned in a bit closer, proactively pressing her face fully against his palm. “Even like this, it doesn’t hurt?”
Helan Tan smiled. “It doesn’t hurt.”
He watched Song Yin without blinking. It didn’t hurt. But strangely, it felt a bit itchy. Perhaps it was his heart that was itching.
Song Yin lowered her head and placed her rabbit bag on the table. The rabbit’s tail was adorned with colorful silk ribbons woven from hair, and the fluffy tail brushed against Helan Tan’s hand.
Song Yin took out several bottles and jars, lining them all up on the table. She leaned in, squinting her eyes as she struggled to decipher the characters written on the labels.
As she identified them, she softly and unclearly read out the characters she recognized: “Qi… Congeal… Fast…”
“Qi-Solidifying Pill. It calms the mind, focuses the spirit, and accelerates the recovery of spiritual energy.” Helan Tan glanced at Jiang Zuilan’s handwriting and recognized the medicine name instantly, reading it out for her.
Song Yin: “Beauty… Five…”
Helan Tan: “Beauty-Preserving Pill. Take five at most; any more will have the opposite effect.”
“Wow, you actually know them?” Song Yin was impressed. “My Master was right. You medical people have your own writing system.”
Song Yin hadn’t seen Helan Tan’s handwriting yet, but she had already assumed it would look like chicken scratch.
She clattered the pile of medicine back into the bag, but kept a few pills in her palm and held them out to him. “This is medicine refined by my third sister. It’s very effective for removing scars and stopping pain.”
The colorful, round pills slid in her palm. Her other hand reached under the table, tugging and swaying his sleeve.
“My third sister’s pills are very famous. I’ll give them to you as a way to make up for the coin pouch. Let’s just call it even, okay?”
Helan Tan looked at her hand and smiled. “No. It’s still a little short.”
Song Yin grew anxious. Her hand, which had been gently tugging his clothes, turned into a grab. She yanked his sleeve toward her with force, then pushed it back in annoyance, swatting his arm. “Do you even know quality? My third sister’s medicine is amazing!”
Helan Tan rested his chin in his hand, tilting his head as he looked at her. He curled his lips and proposed a condition: “I haven’t eaten yet. Treat me to a meal.”
The two of them left the jewelry shop. Song Yin peeked into the deep blue coin pouch once more.
Only one piece of broken silver and a few copper coins remained. She had wanted to use that silver to buy a beautiful “Auspicious Flower” hand mirror; now, she could only buy food with the coppers.
What could coppers buy? Just enough for two sesame buns—and Song Yin immediately snatched one of them.
Song Yin wasn’t the type of person who would go hungry just to watch someone else eat two buns.
So, after she spent the coppers and saw Helan Tan holding the two buns, she grabbed one without hesitation.
Hers was scallion and minced meat; Helan Tan’s was white sugar.
“I haven’t really eaten either, you know,” Song Yin said, taking a bite of the bun. Her lips became oily as she ate, making them look even redder.
Technically, she hadn’t “eaten.” But she had shared crab-roe soup dumplings, red bean and sesame rice balls, osmanthus glutinous rice cakes, and pork-topped noodles with Jiang Zuilan.
Helan Tan held the bun but didn’t eat much, only taking a bite or two for show. He didn’t actually like dry, starchy foods.
As she talked, Song Yin looked up and saw a sesame seed stuck to the corner of his mouth. She reached out and wiped it off for him.
Her warm, soft fingertip touched his lip, casually brushing away the tiny seed.
Helan Tan froze. A moment later, Song Yin looked back and saw another seed stuck there after his next bite.
She wiped it off for him again.
The walk back wasn’t long; it was the way toward the inn. After finishing her bun, Song Yin clapped her hands and told him to leave. “You go back now. I need to find my Master. We have to practice tonight.”
“Mhm, okay.” Helan Tan was satisfied for the day and didn’t pester her further. He watched her back as she waved casually and walked away, then looked down at the half-eaten bun in his hand.
The bun was delicious. The best sesame bun in the world.
Sikong Lan soon found out about Song Yin stealing the coin pouch.
The eldest disciple’s cat bed had gained a giant ruby as a toy, the third disciple’s shop debts were all paid, and even the fourth disciple had two extra skewers of candied hawthorns in his hand.
It was obvious these kids had come into a windfall.
If the money had come from a legitimate source, they would have been shouting for rewards. Since they were keeping quiet, it was clearly ill-gotten gains.
Sikong Lan didn’t have to try very hard to find out about the second disciple’s theft.
Among Sikong Lan’s four disciples, the fourth, Zhan Zhaozhao, was the most upright—a person who wouldn’t keep found money and was always ready to help others, like a tall, straight young poplar tree.
As for the Eldest… well, who would hold a grudge against a kitten?
The second and third disciples, however, had lower worldly morals.
The third liked to gamble, and the second liked to kidnap people. But petty theft had never been their style. This was the first time she had swiped a coin pouch.
Sikong Lan punished Song Yin by making her kneel for the duration of one incense stick while balancing a celadon vase on her head.
Physical hardship meant little to a demon cultivator; the point was to make her remember that taking without asking is stealing, and she must not do it again.
Song Yin knelt on the ground with the thin porcelain vase on her head, fake-crying. “If I had done the opposite—stolen from my bestie to support a man—then I would be irredeemable, unfilial, and deserve to die! I’d be the stupidest amoeba on earth!”
She wailed, “But I only stole from a man to support my bestie! What did I do wrong?!”
Sikong Lan had a headache from her wailing. The second disciple was a master at acting spoiled, and she could make even her twisted logic sound incredibly moving. Meanwhile, she had to listen to the others adding fuel to the fire:
“Maybe that Young Master Helan gave it to her willingly.”
“Exactly. Who knows if that man intentionally lured and tricked Senior Sister.”
“He probably enjoyed her spending his money.”
“Meow meow meow!”
In the end, Song Yin only knelt for less than half an incense stick before getting up and hugging her Master’s arm, acting spoiled. “Master is the best!”
Sikong Lan gave a long sigh.
She was determined to temper her disciples’ temperaments and exhaust their energy so they wouldn’t cause trouble.
“I’ve heard from mortals that the hardest work in the human world is grinding tofu.”
Sikong Lan waved her green sleeves, sending her disciples off to their new task.
“Starting today, you will spend your nights looking for news of the Azure Dragon Vine, and your days selling tofu.”
Author’s Note:
Helan fell in love with Song Yin at first sight.
When Helan Tan saw Song Yin, it was like a person seeing a kitten for the first time—a long-haired calico, no less. She hit every one of his “cute” points; he liked everything about her.
But he’s a wild man who has never seen a cat. The kitten can make him think she’s cute just by existing; her breathing alone bewitches him, but because he lacks experience, he thinks the kitten is some kind of master demon using sophisticated methods.
The long-haired calico beauty raises her tail and nuzzles his palm, and he has absolutely no resistance. He can only pet her intensely while thinking calmly to himself: It’s a bewitchment, this must be a bewitchment!