Chapter 45 Part 1

Not until several servants escorted her back to the Tong Family Villa did Meng Yiran’s heart finally settle.

Tong Yuwu closed the door. Meng Yiran’s body went limp as she allowed herself to sink into the soft bedding, a sigh escaping her lips. “It’s finally over.”

The footsteps came to a halt beside her, and Meng Yiran felt the mattress dip slightly under the weight of another person sitting down.

She turned her head and gazed at Tong Yuwu’s flawless, jade-like face in the lamplight. “How did you slip past the inspection at the door? What about that ‘Holy Book’?”

Tong Yuwu turned to meet her eyes. She reached into empty air, and the red-covered “Holy Book” reappeared in her grasp.

Meng Yiran bolted upright in a flash and leaned in close to Tong Yuwu’s face.

In the flickering light of the boudoir, two girls of starkly different styles—each captivating in her own way—huddled together. Their foreheads touched, while black and silver strands of hair tangled atop their pressed shoulders. Whenever they spoke, their gazes brushed briefly, gliding over each other’s profiles with a tenderness softer than a kiss.

A moment later, Meng Yiran shook her head. “No good.”

She pouted. “As expected, it wasn’t that simple. Otherwise, the first half of the pages would’ve been unlocked ages ago.”

Tong Yuwu let out a soft “mm,” her eyes on the sealed edges of the pages. “It looks like some kind of magical material.”

Meng Yiran blinked in surprise. “You know what it is?”

Tong Yuwu replied, “Not certain.” She paused, as if recalling something. “I think I’ve seen information on it before.”

With that, she raised her right hand.

In the next instant, a thick tome with a black cover materialized before Meng Yiran’s eyes.

She was no stranger to this book. Even back when they lived in the Tong Family Castle, Tong Yuwu had pored over it often. The illustration inside—a human figure etched with bizarre red lines—remained one of Meng Yiran’s lingering nightmares.

As Tong Yuwu flipped it open and began searching intently, Meng Yiran shifted her position, adjusting her seat properly.

“Did you see it in here?” she asked for confirmation. Then: “Where did you even get this book?”

Tong Yuwu didn’t look up. She uttered a single name: “Aiwen.”

Meng Yiran’s scalp prickled instantly. “Him again?”

That horrifying dream—the lightless underground palace and that loathsome pair—ranked among the experiences she most wanted to forget.

Tong Yuwu glanced up at her, certain past events coming to mind, and explained, “The records on the Golden Marten Clan are in this book too.”

Meng Yiran snapped back to the present and ventured a guess. “So… these are his notes?”

Tong Yuwu nodded. “Magic Notes.”

Meng Yiran licked her lips, an odd feeling stirring in her chest. “You found this on him after he died?”

She frowned in bewilderment. “Why… why study his notes?”

At her words, Tong Yuwu lifted her head from the book.

She tilted her head, lost in recollection for a moment before saying, “At first, I wanted to understand why Mother depended on him so much.”

A pang of bitterness welled up in Meng Yiran’s heart.

The Noble Miss’s expression was utterly guileless as she explained, devoid of any ulterior motives. She answered Meng Yiran’s every question without reservation, even those delving into her darkest memories.

In that moment, Meng Yiran felt as though she were taking advantage of Tong Yuwu’s trust, prying open old wounds again and again.

Tong Yuwu’s voice went on. “Later…”

Meng Yiran bowed her head and cut in softly. “I’m sorry…”

She gently took hold of Tong Yuwu’s hand where it rested on the book. “If you don’t want to dwell on it, you don’t have to say anything more.”

Tong Yuwu blinked in puzzlement, as if failing to grasp her meaning.

Yet she savored the touch, twisting her wrist to clasp Meng Yiran’s hand in return.

Slowly, she finished her thought. “Later, I discovered that much of the knowledge in this book is fascinating.”

Meng Yiran nodded.

All traces of guilt faded, and she curved her lips in agreement. “Not bad. It’s about the only value that scum left behind.”

To change the subject, she asked, “You said the pages were sealed with some magical material. Did you find anything on it?”

Tong Yuwu nodded.

She pointed to a passage on the open page. “Here—the juice of Tier 6 Rat Habitat Grass.” Knowing Meng Yiran couldn’t fully decipher the text, she read the entire section aloud. “Mix White Conch Ash with Purple Vanadium and dissolve in Xia Bay Water heated above eighty degrees to create a pale blue solvent. That will dissolve the juice of Rat Habitat Grass.”

Meng Yiran seemed to half-understand. “So we need to prepare these things.” She asked, “Should we send Jenny to buy them, or go shopping on the street tomorrow?”

Tong Yuwu shook her head, however. “Magic materials aren’t easy to purchase.”

She frowned lightly. “We’ll only have a chance to get these things once we’re back at Clarity Magic Academy.”

Meng Yiran nodded.

She carefully read through the list of materials twice, committing the items to memory. She planned to ask the Ling Family Siblings for more information once they returned to school.

With the matter settled for the moment, Meng Yiran let out a breath of relief. Her legs began to swing idly beneath her.

“We wasted the whole night, and we still have no idea what the first half of this ‘Holy Book’ says in the short term.” She turned to Tong Yuwu. “How did you even think to bring it with you back then?”

Tong Yuwu said nothing. Instead, she reached into her bosom and pulled out a small object.

Meng Yiran hadn’t paid it much mind at first, but one glance made her eyes widen in shock—

It was a long, bar-shaped golden brooch with an unusual design: a string of characters unlike any in the Empire’s common tongue.

Not long ago, she and Tong Yuwu had just learned what those characters meant—“Longevity.”

“Isn’t this the cufflink from that maid… No, yours is a bit bigger.” Meng Yiran stared at it. “Where did you get this?”

Tong Yuwu spoke up, uttering those same two syllables: “Aiwen.”

Meng Yiran’s brows furrowed instinctively, then relaxed.

In that instant, countless clues in her mind linked together through the name “Aiwen,” filling her with sudden clarity. “The secrets hidden on Rose Street must be deeply connected to this man, Aiwen.”

She tried to piece together the clues she had uncovered. “That’s why Aiwen’s Magic Notes contain detailed instructions on how to break the ‘Holy Book’s’ seal.”

Tong Yuwu nodded.

Bowing her head, her gaze drifted unconsciously to a point in the empty air. “Twenty years ago, Mother was studying at Clarity Magic Academy. She lived right here.

“She and that man… they must have met here.”

“Which means…” Meng Yiran tapped her temple. “I remember this street was renamed Rose Street just a few years ago. Could the bizarre rose phenomena around here be the work of that bastard?”

Tong Yuwu let out a soft “Mm,” her head lowered as she fiddled with the golden brooch in her hands.

Meng Yiran scooted closer, resting her chin on Tong Yuwu’s shoulder. “Are these character badges the symbol of some organization? The ‘Longevity’ Organization?”

She recalled the people they had encountered that night. “That tall maid, and Aiwen—they both seem to be members.” Her brows knit together. “What are these people really after, calling themselves ‘Longevity’?”

A flicker of confusion passed through Tong Yuwu’s eyes. She gripped the golden brooch thoughtfully.

Seeing this, Meng Yiran grew bold and reached out to pinch her cheek.

Tong Yuwu rarely seemed to bother with skincare, yet the Noble Miss’s skin felt exquisitely soft and supple, like the finest mochi. If not for those haunting purple eyes turning toward her, Meng Yiran never would have let go.

The next moment, she cleared her throat and adopted a serious expression. “Don’t overthink it.” She pointed at the red-bound book. “Once we unlock that book, we should have a good idea.”

Tong Yuwu touched her pinched cheek and gazed at Meng Yiran, lost in thought.

She nodded and softly replied, “Okay.”

As night deepened, the two packed away their things and settled in for sleep.

Thanks to her prior experiences, Meng Yiran quickly realized she had entered a dream when she found herself shrouded in darkness. She reflexively associated her dreams with Rose Street, but oddly enough, no trace of roses appeared this time.

It was a vast, empty space—pitch black in every direction, above and below, forward and back.

Meng Yiran trudged through the darkness for what felt like ages before spotting a faint glimmer of light. She followed it and soon came upon a towering platform. Atop it sat a golden throne, where a hunched middle-aged man reclined with his eyes closed in a light doze.

Meng Yiran was certain she had never met the man. Yet the lavish golden robes draping his form marked him as someone of high standing—at the very least, a wealthy noble.

She ascended the platform’s steps, drawing slowly closer to the Mysterious Man in hopes of seeing his face more clearly and gleaning further details.

She had climbed only halfway when her footsteps faltered.

A powerful sensation of being watched welled up from the depths of her heart. Stunned, she instinctively looked up—

The man lounging obliquely on the throne had opened his eyes at some unknown point. He was now gazing fixedly down at her. Those icy, murky eyes were filled with a deathly pallor, utterly devoid of any trace of human warmth.

Stared at by such eyes, Meng Yiran felt goosebumps break out all over her body.

She instinctively let go. In the next instant, she tumbled from the high dais into endless darkness…

“Meow—!”

The Little White Cat, who had been sleeping peacefully by her pillow, suddenly arched her back and let out a shrill wail. She flailed her limbs wildly, as though crushed beneath some immense pressure.

Moments later, the Noble Miss sleeping peacefully beside her also opened her eyes.

Though rudely awakened, the lingering fog in her gaze cleared far more quickly than the Little White Cat’s. She rolled over and swiftly gathered the trembling cat into her arms, stroking gently along the direction of her fur.

The Little White Cat’s entire body shook violently. Even safe in Tong Yuwu’s embrace, it took her several long minutes to calm down.

She shifted back into human form, still straddling Tong Yuwu’s lap. Wrapping her arms around Tong Yuwu’s neck, she buried her disheveled face in the other woman’s shoulder.

The Noble Miss had endless patience. She patted Meng Yiran’s back with gentle rhythm.

“What’s wrong?”

Meng Yiran parted her lips, embarrassment flooding her. Only after a long pause did she murmur, “I… had a nightmare.”