Gan Xun hailed a car, while not forgetting to send a message reassuring Cui Can to definitely wait for her to arrive and not act impulsively.
She exited the neighborhood’s east gate, and Zhao Chiyun spotted the “Kong Family Bun Shop” Gan Xun had mentioned at a glance.
“Are Kong Family pastries delicious?”
Gan Xun got the hint. “I’ll go downstairs tomorrow morning and buy some for you to try.”
Zhao Chiyun smiled lightly.
The near-noon sunlight spread a layer of melted makeup across her face, lending her an extra share of dazzling radiance.
Her bare face, coated only in sunscreen, could still be described as “stunningly beautiful.”
Passersby walking slowly almost all sneaked a glance, their eyes lingering first on her long hair, then her face, and finally Gan Xun beside her.
Gan Xun was on the verge of social anxiety.
Hearing the rumbling sound, Zhao Chiyun looked up in alarm and edged closer to Gan Xun for reassurance.
“What is that?”
Gan Xun said, “It’s nothing. That’s an airplane—people ride in it.”
Zhao Chiyun asked in surprise, “Immortals?”
“Common folk buy tickets to ride it. It makes long journeys much faster.”
Gan Xun gave her a simple rundown of modern transportation.
“There aren’t any carriages on the ground either. See those? Bicycles, electric bikes, tricycles.”
“The four-wheeled ones are cars.”
“Where is your carriage?” the county princess asked seriously.
“I hailed a car. Two minutes and it’ll be here.”
“So you don’t have a carriage.” Zhao Chiyun caught on.
Gan Xun chuckled and had to admit it. “Yeah, I’m pretty poor.”
Zhao Chiyun expressed deep regret once more. If only her hairpins and jewels had come with her—she could have gifted them all to this impoverished commoner.
She glanced down at her shoes. Pink and white. Hmm, quite nice-looking.
She looked up again. The airplane had vanished from sight, its path etched into the clouds.
“The sunlight today is quite piercing.”
Gan Xun’s naturally pale irises made her somewhat light-sensitive; sunglasses were a summer essential for her outings.
Hearing this, she handed over her sunglasses for Zhao Chiyun to try. “Wear these to block it. Keeps others from staring—what if a talent scout spots you?”
She was joking.
“What’s a talent scout?”
Gan Xun had only heard the term in old newsreels. She answered casually, “They spot good-looking people, groom them up, and rake in big money off their faces.”
“Outrageous! In broad daylight, forcing innocents into prostitution.”
Zhao Chiyun paled slightly and hurriedly donned the sunglasses. “This place isn’t safe either.”
Gan Xun hadn’t expected such a wild misunderstanding. “No, no, not like that. I mean legit work, all voluntary.”
“Don’t worry—talent scouts are probably a thing of the past now. Too many people chasing stardom.”
“Then…”
Before “good” could escape her lips, Zhao Chiyun realized the slip and raised her voice slightly. “So what I’m supposed to feel relieved about… is the lack of talent scouts?”
She was starting to apply pressure with her presence. Gan Xun could picture her glare even through the dark lenses.
“Forcing anyone into prostitution? Impossible. Rule of law here—the police station’s just two kilometers away.”
Zhao Chiyun fell silent for a moment, then changed tack. “No more glare. What is this thing called?”
“Sunglasses.”
Zhao Chiyun removed them, her expression complex as she eyed Gan Xun—shame, annoyance, and reproach mingled in her gaze.
Fearing further mix-ups, Gan Xun enunciated carefully. “Sun-glasses. ‘Sun’ as in ink.”
Zhao Chiyun slipped them back on. “Good name.”
As they spoke, a white electric car pulled up in front of them.
Zhao Chiyun, dressed in Gan Xun’s ill-fitting clothes, took half a step back. The door slid open, revealing a woman inside whose face was likewise shielded by sunglasses.
Gan Xun boarded first and gave the tail number.
She patted the seat beside her. Sunlight slanted through the open door, glinting between her fingers.
Seeing Zhao Chiyun frozen, she said, “Hop on. Don’t be scared—I’m right here with you.”
It wasn’t until they’d driven a ways that Zhao Chiyun figured out why she’d boarded the iron beast’s belly as if possessed.
Not because fear had vanished.
But because Gan Xun had coaxed her like a child: “I’m right here with you.”
She’d entrusted her life and fortune to that airy promise.
She had no choice. In this world where everything had changed beyond recognition, Gan Xun was her sole lifeline.
Skyscrapers blurred past outside like a retreating forest—no carriage could match this speed.
Unease crept in. Was this a trap? Was Gan Xun luring her straight to that police station two kilometers away?
She tested the waters. “I haven’t washed my hair yet.”
Gan Xun replied evenly, “I know. We’ll go after this is done. Afternoon work?”
Zhao Chiyun’s heart eased for the moment.
Cat-eye sunglasses in place, back ramrod straight, eyes fixed ahead—like an elegant palace crane.
At a red light, she leaned to Gan Xun’s ear. “No air conditioner in sight, yet it’s so cool.”
Gan Xun whispered, “See that vent? That’s the air conditioner. They come in all shapes.”
Zhao Chiyun rested her hands primly on her knees and declared solemnly, “I like it here.”
Gan Xun beamed with pride.
Aside from the buildings, Zhao Chiyun’s attention fixed on the passersby.
Gan Xun hadn’t lied. Peace reigned everywhere. Bold outfits were commonplace, even among elders—no one shot them odd looks.
Gan Xun sent Cui Can a voice message. “Five minutes out.”
“Yeah, we. I brought her along. She’s pretty tall—come show some support.”
Zhao Chiyun leaned over from the window. “How did she learn her husband had taken a mistress?”
“Always together—clues everywhere. But here, no inner or outer wives. Romance, marriage—strictly one-on-one. Any third party? Adulterers, the lot of them.”
After the big-picture primer, Gan Xun added, “Oh, and she doesn’t have a husband. Just a wife.”
Zhao Chiyun whipped off the sunglasses. “What did you say?”
No misunderstanding this time. Gan Xun forged ahead. “She’s a lesbian—likes women only. Her partner’s a woman too. You homophobic?”
The driver auntie chimed in unexpectedly. “Not me. What’s to be scared of? Live with whoever.”
Gan Xun laughed awkwardly, thin-skinned. “We were whispering—you still caught that?”
“Aw, wasn’t eavesdropping. Just that bit. Thought you meant me. We’re here.”
The auntie turned back. “Grab your stuff, watch your step getting off. Good luck taking down that homewrecker! Can’t stand ’em.”
Gan Xun had heard her share.
Exiting, Gan Xun gave Zhao Chiyun a crash course on “homophobic,” prepping her for the job ahead.
Zhao Chiyun nodded sagely and murmured, “Deviates from ethics, sure—but hardly harms heaven or earth. Why the fear?”
“Old mindset. We don’t push it now, but it’s not some ethical crime.”
“For real?”
“Why would I lie?”
“Even loving women leads to heartbreak?”
Zhao Chiyun puzzled—women were always more loyal than men.
“Of course. Lesbians face it less often, not never. Rotten people come in both flavors—they don’t care about anyone but themselves.”
“Temptations lurk everywhere. Slip up, and hearts stray.”
“No matter who you date—men, women, young, old—stay vigilant. No getting love-brained, got it?”
Gan Xun spoke earnestly.
Zhao Chiyun went quiet for a beat. “I want to go back to Mirror Country.”
Gan Xun blinked. “Oh, right. Sorry—forgot your fiancé’s waiting.”
Zhao Chiyun shut her eyes.
Annoying.
Cui Can waited at the neighborhood entrance for Gan Xun and that noblewoman dropped from the heavens.
She’d long sensed her girlfriend’s distraction, stretching her two-day work trip by extra days and using smart devices to confirm two people at home.
So they’d agreed: go catch her in the act.
She spotted the rideshare pulling up from afar. Gan Xun hopped out first.
Eagerly circled to open the door for the other woman, hand shielding the top lest she bump her head.
Cui Can didn’t know if she was a real county princess, but Gan Xun was playing servant to the hilt.
Sunglasses hid the woman’s face, but Cui Can grasped Gan Xun’s attentiveness in a second.
When she removed them, even the sunlight seemed to shift angles, scattering perfect light and shadow across her features.
Cui Can momentarily forgot her heartbreak and fury—like an eye spa treatment.
How to describe this county princess?
Last night, Gan Xun had downplayed her: pretty, innocent, probably not bad.
Meeting the real deal, Gan Xun had been too modest.
Cui Can wasn’t big on words, but the face was killer, the figure flawless, the aura impeccable.
A fairy descended from heaven.
The kind who naturally inspired willing servitude.
Reunited, Gan Xun shaded her eyes with one hand as she made introductions. “This is my friend, Teacher Cui Can. And this is my VIP guest, Ms. Zhao Chiyun. Say hi.”
She’d spilled the full adventure tale last night. Cui Can fretted over her safety but shrugged off the time travel bit.
Even comforted her. “Just treat it like a life experience.”
“Miss Cui.”
Zhao Chiyun inclined her head slightly.
Through the sunglasses, she sized her up. Gan Xun’s friend looked kind and reassuring.
“Hello, County Princess. Cui Can’s fine.”
“No need for formality, Miss Cui Can.”
The sun beat down. Zhao Chiyun sweated lightly after just a moment—hated it.
She needed air conditioning.
Head to toe in Gan Xun’s budget clothes, the county princess still seemed above mortal concerns.
Cui Can checked. “Gan Xun told you why we’re here, right?”
Zhao Chiyun nodded, her red lips parting. “To catch adultery.”
Cui Can worried ancients might not grasp modern drama. “Uh…”
“Not homophobic.”
Head high, eyes forward. “No need for words. Lead on.”
