Chapter 74: Bad Child

Gu Xianwang was a full hour late getting home. She braced herself for a round of nagging, but to her surprise, Master hadn’t returned yet either.

When she asked Nanny Chen about it, the nanny explained that he had a last-minute business dinner that evening. Master had plenty of old connections in Tianjin, so it was only natural that he couldn’t come back early after some schmoozing now and then. Nanny Chen herself seemed out of sorts too—perhaps she’d napped too deeply that afternoon. At dinner, she was distracted, asking offhand how the chat with Young President Ye had gone, without any of her usual eagerness.

Gu Xianwang only managed a bowl of porridge for dinner. She begged off, saying she was still feverish and feeling miserable, and wanted to head back to her room to rest. Nanny Chen took one look at her and knew the girl had spent the afternoon letting her mind run wild again. Children grew up eventually, and you couldn’t keep them caged forever. With a wave of her hand, she let her go.

The moment Gu Xianwang was back in her room, she locked the door. She washed up simply, removed her makeup, and changed into her pajamas—as if completing some kind of ritual—before finally climbing into bed. Only then did she pick up her phone and reopen that newly created group chat.

She rarely socialized and had never bothered with trendy apps like these. If Senior Brother hadn’t dragged her into it before, she wouldn’t even have registered for WeChat. To avoid fumbling in front of others, she first poked around the app’s functions on her own. She opened the group messages. There were three people in it. Her profile picture was the default system avatar, Ye Chan’s was a ghostly floating skull, and Long Li’s was just a blank square. Her index finger hovered over the three avatars for a moment before tapping into Long Li’s profile. There was nothing inside except one line: “Added to contacts.”

Not even friends yet. She let out a stifled breath.

She backed out and stared at Ye Chan’s last message in the chat history—”I’m home!”—debating a reply for ages. In the end, her hand slipped, and she fat-fingered two wrong keys. Whoosh, whoosh—two emojis flew out.

【Gu Xianwang】：[Pig Head]

【Gu Xianwang】：[Rose]

The real Gu Xianwang: …staring in slack-jawed horror.

Moments later, ding! A reply popped up in the group.

【Chatterbox】：Whoa, Sister Gu, you’re here! Everything okay getting home late?

Mortified, Gu Xianwang decided to pretend the blunder never happened.

【Gu Xianwang】：I’m fine. Master isn’t back yet.

She was a slow typist, and no sooner had that sent than Long Li chimed in.

【L】：Where do the emojis go?

【Gu Xianwang】：No clue. Just hit the wrong button by accident.

【Chatterbox】：You two okay? Living fossils much? It’s right there next to the text box.

【L】：Got it.

Gu Xianwang pursed her lips, eyeing those words. With replies coming that fast, did Long Li really not know how to send emojis either?

Before long, Ye Chan dumped her phone number, QQ ID, and every other contact detail she could think of—useful or not—then sent friend requests one by one.

The instant Gu Xianwang approved hers, a notification blasted: Ding-ding! Thunder crashes from the heavens—Ye Bao bursts onto the scene in dazzling glory!

Gu Xianwang was about to seize the moment to add Long Li too, but before she could finish typing, Ye Chan unleashed a barrage of new messages in the group.

Gu Xianwang gritted her teeth and kept typing, determined to steer things back, but a quick glance made her freeze.

【Chatterbox】：New intel! New intel! My bro says something went down at the altar.

【Chatterbox】：Didn’t they report finding Little Hei’s body this afternoon? Bro rushed back to the office to deal with it, but I just checked in—he says the body’s unidentifiable now. All the Rat-Walkers guys pulled out. Looks like someone tipped off the cops early. The whole Yelang Village is locked down.

【Chatterbox】：Oh, and that hacker from the Flower Fair? Still on the loose. Bro let slip it might be an inside job with the Rat-Walkers—no way a regular person slips into the Flower Fair. Their workspaces are crawling with cameras.

【Chatterbox】：Guizhou side’s probably the same. Cops showed up before the Rat-Walkers could finish their usual cleanup. Never happened before. Total mess. Bro’s gotta fly back for the investigation—his hair’s falling out in clumps.

An internal Rat-Walkers problem? And right at this critical juncture?

Gu Xianwang’s gut reaction: Had Sara, Chak, and their crew called the cops after breaking free? Sour grapes—if they couldn’t have it, neither could the Rat-Walkers.

As if sensing her thoughts telepathically, Long Li replied.

【L】：No confirmation on internal Rat-Walkers issues yet, but the tip-off wasn’t Sara and her group. Their identities are too sensitive—they wouldn’t leave a trace.

Long Li took the initiative to bring up Sara and the others, effectively breaking the window paper on the matter of the organization. Among the three of them, it had always been a thorn in their side. Until this issue was cleared up, true trust could never be built.

After she sent her message, the group chat fell silent for a good while with no replies. Gu Xianwang was mulling over whether the hacker’s public release of the photos of the Long Family Human Skin Map had any connection to the police getting involved at the altar ahead of schedule when Ye Chan suddenly sent her a private message.

She asked: Sister Gu, do you think Sister Long is trustworthy?

Gu Xianwang paused for a moment before replying: Why do you ask all of a sudden?

She said: I’ve memorized all the text on that stone platform at the altar.

Gu Xianwang hadn’t expected her to commit those pictographic texts to memory through sheer force of will. She also knew they were a crucial clue left behind at the Witch Clan Altar. After a brief moment of thought, she replied cautiously: I think it’s better to discuss these things in person. As for whether Long Li is trustworthy, you can judge that for yourself. Speaking purely for myself, I believe she is.

After sending the message, Ye Chan quickly replied with an OK emoji. Gu Xianwang rubbed her brow, thinking she’d gotten the point. But as soon as she exited the private chat, there in the group chat was a glaring new message: Sister Long, wanna grab some late-night snacks?

Gu Xianwang: …Was this a world without curfews?

【L】: Sure.

【L】: Xianwang, you coming?

She wanted to, but Nanny Chen would never allow it, and Master would be home any minute now.

She was just about to type a reply when her hand froze—hold on. If something had gone wrong inside the Rat-Walkers, could Master’s dinner engagement tonight be connected to it? True to his habits, if he wasn’t back by midnight, he’d just stay out for the night. Perhaps tonight…

【L】: How about we all meet up at my place? There’s a popular barbecue joint downstairs.

【Chatterbox】: Count me in! BBQ for the win!

Gu Xianwang stared at that message, her fingers hovering stiffly over the screen. Truth be told, she was tempted.

【Gu Xianwang】: Then I’ll come too.

It was just a matter of scaling the wall. Her legs were trained for exactly that.

【L】: Great. I’ve got the car back already. I’ll swing by and pick you two up on the way.

【Chatterbox】: [kiss kiss]

To her place.

Gu Xianwang set her phone down and sprawled out flat on the soft duvet, staring blankly up at the white gauze mosquito net overhead—her place. Did that mean Long Li lived in Tianjin too? Did she live alone, or with friends? Her place—did it just mean grabbing a bite at the restaurant downstairs? Her place. If she was willing to invite them over privately like this, did it mean they were closer than mere colleagues or business partners?

For some inexplicable reason, her heart felt itchy, like it had been brushed by foxtail grass at the roadside. She pressed her palm against her warm chest, unable to pinpoint the sensation or scratch it away. It was uncomfortable.

Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed. Suddenly, she hooked her feet under the bed frame and sat bolt upright. Since she was going, what should she wear? Something casual? Or more formal?

Gu Xianwang glanced at her vanity mirror. She’d been so pale these past few days—better go casual. That way, if she got caught sneaking back over the wall, she could just say she’d gone out for a stroll.

Decision made, she sprang to her feet and rummaged hastily through her closet. She changed into a white T-shirt and jeans, then twirled twice in front of the full-length mirror. She looked every bit the student.

Did she look good? She frowned, mulling it over.

Her arm was still wrapped in a thin layer of bandage. Taking it off would seem too deliberate, but leaving it on drew the eye. With a sigh, she realized this was her first time making friends. She had no idea about the right boundaries for hanging out with them. All she knew was that her heart was pounding like mad. She wanted to see them, yet she was afraid to.

The thought of actually meeting up made her suddenly realize she and Long Li hadn’t even set a time.

She unlocked her phone. There was a red notification dot on the WeChat icon. She instantly guessed who it was from but immediately second-guessed herself—what if she was wrong? And yet, who else would add her as a friend at this hour? After three or five seconds of waffling, she finally tapped it.

Sure enough.

Long Li: Mind if I add you as a friend? I’m worried group messages might not come through in time.

Gu Xianwang approved it in a flash and replied: Sorry, I wasn’t checking my phone just now. Have you set off?

Long Li: Yeah, I’m already at the intersection where you got out of the car earlier.

Gu Xianwang’s face heated up. She checked the time—damn, more than an hour had slipped by while she’d been lost in thought.

She hammered out a quick reply: Don’t rush. I’m coming right now.

Long Li paused for two or three seconds before responding: I’m not rushing.

Moments later: I’ll wait for you. Take your time.

…

It seemed like after her ordeal in Yelang, her composure had improved by leaps and bounds.

Her condition wasn’t the best this time around, but that night she stealthily hugged the wall, slipped lightly down the stairs, darted through surveillance blind spots, and scaled the wall in pitch darkness—the entire process executed with flawless proficiency, as if the Saint of Thieves himself had possessed her body. What’s more, the courtyard walls of this estate on Five Great Paths were fitted with barbs expressly to fend off light-fingered thieves. Gu Xianwang made short work of it: she climbed a tree first, then dropped lightly like a cat, flipped over with feline grace, and touched down beyond the wall, startling a passerby who happened to be out walking his dog.

The old fellow stared at her in stunned silence for a good while, his gaze darting back and forth between the grand entrance gate and her figure for confirmation. The mangy brown teddy he had on a leash barked furiously at her. Thief guilt gnawing at her, Gu Xianwang feared rousing Nanny Chen and hastily bowed to the dog.

Awkwardly smiling, she explained, “Uh… the gate lock inside is busted.”

Were it not for the air of refinement about her, no ghost would buy that story. The old man muttered a vague acknowledgment and shuffled off some thirty meters before glancing back. “Hey, missy, don’t pull this stunt again. You could take a nasty tumble.”

Gu Xianwang nodded, whipped around, and took off running.

~~~

Long Li was fiddling with the in-car CD player when the passenger door flew open, then slammed shut with a bang. A faint wave of heat from her hurried flight wafted in. A thin sheen of sweat beaded Gu Xianwang’s forehead, her face shrouded in the streetlamp’s faint glow, alternately flushed and pale.

Suppressing her gasps, she said, “Drive. Now.”

A breeze slipped through the half-open window as the speakers filled the air with the intro to Zhang Guorong’s “Spring Splendor.” Long Li turned to study Gu Xianwang’s profile; the wind seemed to tease her lips into a faint smile. “Got it.”

Her words wove into the melody before it could fade, and with a crisp shift into gear and a tap of the accelerator, the Porsche’s engine roared to life. The sudden surge pinned Gu Xianwang back into her seat. In her frantic dash from home, she hadn’t even noticed her hair tie slipping loose; her dark locks spilled out like an inky tide, strands whipping outward.

They hit a red light at the intersection. Gu Xianwang exhaled slowly. Since pledging herself to the sect, this was her first act of outright rebellion. Her shoulder twitched involuntarily, then went rigid as Long Li’s fingertip brushed it, deftly plucking a leaf between two fingers.

A hint of amusement in her voice, she said, “In such a rush? Sneaking out, were we?”

Her tone evoked some family friend with a knack for corrupting the young—not overly stern, just a veneer of kindly concern.

Gu Xianwang stayed defiant. “I’m not a child anymore. Come on. It’s nearly autumn—the wind must’ve shaken it loose.”

“Oh.” Long Li flicked the leaf out the window on a gust, smoothed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, still smiling. “Right. Autumn restlessness.”

Gu Xianwang pressed her lips together and shot her a sidelong glance. Long Li had swapped into casualwear, looking every inch the corporate director fresh off a seaside holiday. Gu Xianwang had figured outdoor gear suited her type best, but then again, someone like Long Li could make even a potato sack look chic.

“Something on your mind?”

She did—but every time the words bubbled up, she swallowed them back down.

“You… have no memories from before, so how do you drive?”

Brilliant, Gu Xianwang. What an idiotic question.

She kept her eyes glued to the passing streetlamps afterward, as if they were strings of priceless luminous pearls.

Long Li replied, “I may lack memories of my past, but this isn’t a recent development. From the moment I awoke until now, I’ve had plenty of time to get my license.”

Awoke? Gu Xianwang asked, “Were you in some kind of accident?”

Long Li nodded. “Yeah, or so I’ve been told: I took a critical injury during a mission. The trauma triggered psychogenic amnesia—recovery timeline unknown.”

Given her all-or-nothing drive, dodging serious injury would have been the real stroke of luck. No telling what kind of constitution she had, though; she didn’t scar easily, or she’d resemble some underworld boss now, etched head to toe in old wounds.

The thought made her chest tighten unbearably. She parted her lips, paused an age, then forced out, “At least you didn’t get hurt that badly this time. Back at the altar… we had a deal, but I never saw you at the cave mouth in the end. I’m sorry.”

The apology came out as soft as a mosquito’s hum.

“So that’s what had you tongue-tied in the car this afternoon?”

The traffic signals blinked from green to red, pedestrian crossings flashing in rhythm. Gu Xianwang kept staring down the road. Their lane… ought to go green any second now, right?

After a long beat, she finally nodded. “Yeah.”

In the red light’s dying instant, Long Li twisted toward her, gaze earnest. “No apologies necessary. Without the Rat-Walkers showing up when they did, I’d be the one full of regrets.”

Gu Xianwang didn’t dare meet her eyes and simply nodded. Outside the car window, silhouettes of people and vehicles intertwined like streams of light as the wind noise swelled, booming and enveloping their ears.

Long Li sealed the window tight and gradually accelerated.

The car fell quiet, leaving only the lingering strains of a melodious Cantonese tune. Suddenly, Gu Xianwang recalled that Long Li had just used the words “harbor regret.”

Why… regret?