Chapter 20: Melancholy, Blues, Evening Breeze

—No, they wouldn’t dare.

—If you stayed with us, lots of people would pursue you.

—Thanks, that would really be a double whammy of misfortunes.

On Sunday evening, the Garden Neighborhood was always lively, with children of all ages running around, screaming and laughing.

There were also teenagers riding bikes. Zhao Chiyun had long marveled at how a two-wheeled vehicle could ride so steadily. When Gan Xun said she knew how to ride one too, Zhao Chiyun cast an admiring gaze her way.

A little girl whose arms were chubby like lotus roots wore a pink tutu skirt, her hair tied in two small pigtail braids, and she stomped past them in a pair of glowing shoes.

Zhao Chiyun found her adorable and stared intently. Gan Xun said, “Look at that baby—showing off her legs and arms. Her parents worry about mosquito bites, sure, but they didn’t wrap her up like a rice dumpling.”

Zhao Chiyun snorted coldly. “She’s still a child, plump and cute. How do you compare?”

That baby sure wouldn’t brag about her straight legs.

She added, “Beating around the bush—how boring. As if I’d wrapped you up myself. Did I dress you or something?”

Too fierce. Gan Xun fell silent.

Zhao Chiyun posed another soulful question. “Why is it called Garden Neighborhood? I haven’t seen many flowers or plants.”

If Gan Xun went out alone, she usually rode a bike, took the subway, or even walked if she had time.

But with Zhao Chiyun in tow, she preferred to spend extra on a cab.

Gan Xun filtered out the expensive options in the ride-hailing app and picked only the deals. Casually, she asked, “Does your Prince’s Mansion have lots of flowers and plants in the garden?”

Zhao Chiyun said proudly, “Exotic blooms competing in splendor and color. Even half a day wouldn’t be enough to take them all in.”

A car finally arrived. Gan Xun sighed, “So corrupt. So extravagant.”

Zhao Chiyun glanced at her. “If not, it would shame the royal face.”

“You still haven’t told me where your garden is.”

She just had to ask!

Gan Xun gave up struggling. “People here love to hang a sheep’s head while selling dog meat—the less there is, the more they hype it up.”

“Garden is just a nice name for it. My landlord said there used to be some greenery, but a few years ago, it all got turned into a parking lot.”

Zhao Chiyun laughed in spite of herself. “So it’s all show and no substance? How absurd.”

Gan Xun smiled and said, “Yeah, it’s an absurd era.”

“I bet you don’t like it, right?”

From her observations over the past couple of days, Zhao Chiyun figured Gan Xun seemed outgoing on the surface but was actually dissatisfied with her current life. She was gently, silently resisting and muddling through something.

Gan Xun paused slightly and tucked her wind-tousled hair behind her ear.

“No, quite the opposite. I love this era.”

She told Zhao Chiyun, “Just like you love your dynasty.”

But it felt like she might not be able to go back.

Zhao Chiyun thought to herself.

While waiting for the car, Zhao Chiyun glanced at the night sky. This time, no airplanes or contrails.

The indigo sky was thick with heavy clouds, the moonlight barely visible.

She said, “It looks like an illusion. The sky is all murky gray, and the stars aren’t as bright as in the Mirror Dynasty.”

“Industrial pollution, light pollution, all sorts of emissions.”

“Immortal arts always come at a cost.”

Gan Xun said.

“Everyone pays a price for their pleasures.”

Zhao Chiyun looked at her.

A layer of indescribable melancholy clung to Gan Xun. Under the night sky, she seemed bluesy, carried over on the evening breeze.

Zhao Chiyun said, “You remind me a lot of someone I know.”

“Who?”

Gan Xun perked up with curiosity. Back in her teenage years, she’d loved reading all sorts of novels, full of talk about fated encounters across lifetimes.

It didn’t have to be romantic—maybe a distant relative or neighbor, or even an acquaintance.

But under her expectant gaze, Zhao Chiyun said coolly, “The abbot of Grand Pacifying Nation Temple.”

“…”

Gan Xun had already guessed. Still, Zhao Chiyun had to voice the most cutting reason. “Always spouting profound prophecies beyond this world.”

In short, mumbo-jumbo, like some nutcase.

Gan Xun threw up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

She really did feel bad. She hadn’t been like this before—life had just toyed with her too much, and she’d wanted to play the profound modern sage in front of Zhao Chiyun, showing off her wisdom.

The ride-hailing car pulled up when they waved it down. This time, Zhao Chiyun moved first. She wanted to see if opening the door was hard.

It turned out to be effortless—no spells or chants, no strength required.

Zhao Chiyun opened the car door and, amid Gan Xun’s surprise, said, “But I’d listen to the abbot speak.”

“I’d listen to you speak too.”

“Please, get in.”

She even mimicked Gan Xun by holding a hand up to shield her from bumping her head.

Gan Xun’s head spun, and she bent down into the car in a daze, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Zhao Chiyun thought she was pleased with her quick learning and laughed along. “No difficulty at all. No need to overpraise.”

But I really do want to praise you.

Gan Xun thought.

Candlelight couldn’t compete with neon. As they passed through the bustling downtown, Zhao Chiyun exclaimed nonstop.

“If only Great Mirror could be like this.”

Gan Xun leaned in and whispered encouragement. “You could make it happen. When you go back, stage a rebellion, become empress, develop tech and commerce nationwide, kick off an industrial revolution. Just remember to keep the common folk in mind.”

Zhao Chiyun looked at her calmly and refused coldly. “Gan Xun, don’t court death.”

“Prince Qi’s Mansion has never harbored rebellious thoughts.”

“Dreams make everyone great.”

The locals who had nothing to fear stood tall without a shred of reverence.

Gan Xun had navigated straight to the barbecue joint. It was in a residential area, nothing fancy—just standard diner decor—but business was always booming.

Cui Can had arrived early and waved them over when they entered.

Cui Can wore a sundress today. Gan Xun gestured for Zhao Chiyun to look, then pointed at the other female customers in the shop.

“What are you doing?”

The County Princess sat primly amid the common folk and replied clearly, “Trying to teach me by example? Showing me how from three-year-olds to seventy-year-olds, no one minds showing skin—except me, the old feudal relic.”

Cui Can asked, “Did you just call her that?”

Gan Xun cried injustice. “I never called her that!”

Zhao Chiyun said, “I saw it in the comments on a short video.”

That afternoon, she’d come across a video scolding girls for dressing revealingly. Curious, she’d clicked in, only to find the top comments full of “Qing Dynasty is dead,” “old feudal stick,” “mind your own business,” and the like.

So Gan Xun had insisted on wearing shorts today, and Zhao Chiyun hadn’t made a fuss.

Cui Can laughed wildly.

Gan Xun broke into a sweat.

Barbecue wasn’t complicated fare. Gan Xun had checked with Zhao Chiyun ahead of time— the Mirror Dynasty had it too, and it was popular.

Zhao Chiyun could handle a bit of spice, so they ordered mild.

Once ordered, Cui Can said, “I want a drink. You two?”

“No need.”

“Sure.”

Gan Xun was surprised. “You want to drink?”

Zhao Chiyun said calmly, “Fine wine pairs with grilled meat for the full experience. Or do you want me to drink that black tongue-biting liquid?”

Cola didn’t deserve that.

Gan Xun compromised. “Fine.”

The beer was low-alcohol with fruit flavors—Zhao Chiyun found it delicious.

Gan Xun couldn’t stand the taste of booze, but as the poison-tester, she sipped first. Maybe it was psychological, but for the first time, she got the appeal of ice-cold beer.

She recalled reading somewhere that when you start preferring booze over soda, it means you’re getting old.

She chuckled.

“You’ve got work tomorrow. County Princess home alone? If you’re bored, come find me—I’m off tomorrow. We can pet some cats.”

Cui Can said to them.

Gan Xun had explained to Zhao Chiyun beforehand that Cui Can’s weekends were busier, since that’s when students had time for tutoring.

Though she’d only had a half-glass, Gan Xun thought it over and decided to come clean. “I got fired.”

Cui Can thought it was a joke at first, and with the noise around, she hadn’t heard clearly. “What?”

“I got fired. For real.”

Gan Xun smiled at her. “The company’s been tanking anyway. I wasn’t happy there to begin with—quitting was perfect. I’ll take a break.”

“When?”

Cui Can frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“The day I met her.”

Gan Xun had meant to joke about it, poke fun at Zhao Chiyun—how wasn’t she a double whammy too?

But someone was completely immune and nodded proudly instead. “Indeed, everyone pays a price for their pleasures.”