Tong Renfei pinched one corner of the envelope between two fingers and held it up for a closer look. “You’ve reminded me. I’ll send a reply later.”
She tossed the letter aside. “She’s the Head of the Ming Family now, after all. We might need to call on her someday.”
Aiwen let out a soft hum.
Tong Renfei pressed on. “Did you get the items?”
Aiwen drew a list from inside his robes and pointed to several check marks. “These came up at the auction. Your funds covered them, so I snapped them all up.”
“Good.” A faint smile curved Tong Renfei’s lips as she studied the list. “Just three more to go.”
She stole a quick glance back at Tong Yuwu before turning away again. “No rush—we’ve got time.” She changed the subject. “And you? You’re still on the Imperial Wanted List. No one spotted you, right?”
Aiwen shook his head. “Relax.”
He let out a cold laugh. “I used to be one of their own, after all. More than a decade ago, they had the perfect shot at me and blew it. Now? Fat chance.”
“Sigh, it’s still too risky.” Tong Renfei bowed her head and let out a heavy sigh. “If only my magic aptitude were stronger, you wouldn’t have to keep risking exposure just to hunt down these materials.”
Aiwen rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ll get there soon enough…” He held back the thrill in his voice. “Won’t you?”
Perched on her tall chair, Tong Yuwu listened to their exchange and felt a sudden surge of boredom.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted the chessboard, freshly reset with black and white armies squared off across its checkered field.
Her gaze settled on the Black King opposite her. She narrowed her eyes, her purple irises darkening. In the next instant, she plucked the Black King from the board.
Tong Renfei’s voice floated over, laced with amusement. “I owe it all to you. The one thing I regret least in this life is…”
Behind her, the young Noble Miss slowly raised her hand. She pressed the back of it to the board’s edge and gave a gentle shove.
Bang!
The sharp crash shattered the room’s quiet chatter. Tong Renfei and Aiwen both startled.
They whipped around to see an ornate chessboard lying overturned on the floor. Black and white pieces lay scattered in disarray, rolling every which way.
Tong Yuwu sat calmly in her chair, idly toying with the Black King cradled in her palm, her face a mask of indifference.
Catching her mother’s stare, she lifted her head. A spark of warmth returned to her deep eyes, and she murmured, “Mother.”
Tong Renfei scowled, lips twisting in disapproval. “How could you be so careless?”
Tong Yuwu’s pinky finger bore down on the king’s head. “It wasn’t carelessness.” She met her mother’s eyes and owned up plainly. “I pushed it.”
Tong Renfei choked on her words, needing several seconds to recover before storming over. “What’s gotten into you? What kind of nonsense has your etiquette teacher been filling your head with? Is this any way for a noble to behave?”
Tong Yuwu cocked her head to one side. “If I act like a proper noble, will you like me even a little more, Mother?”
Tong Renfei faltered. “You…”
Aiwen stepped up beside her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, murmuring low, “Let it slide.”
Tong Renfei rubbed her forehead and sighed once more. “Aiwen, it’s not a lack of patience on my part—she’s just so dim. Forget etiquette for a moment. She turns eight next month, and still no sign of magic aptitude?
“What if something’s wrong?”
Aiwen met her gaze steadily. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do.” Tong Renfei dropped her eyes. “It’s just… it’s just…”
She drew in a deep breath. “The closer we get to our goal, the more on edge I feel.”
“No cause for alarm.” Aiwen gave a quiet chuckle.
He glanced down at the delicately beautiful Tong Yuwu in her chair. “She’s no ordinary girl. That Life Fruit was cultivated with essence blood, blending the finest traits from both our families. Just look at her face—what’s left to question?”
Tong Renfei managed a wry smile and followed his gaze. “You’re right. I’m the one who’s too worked up.”
She reached out to stroke Tong Yuwu’s cheek. The soft, warm feel of her skin filled her with longing. “Yuwu, you’re my last hope.”
Tong Yuwu bowed her head.
She stared at the Black King in her palm, then bore down hard with her thumb. With a sharp clink, the king’s head snapped clean off and tumbled to the floor.
Tong Renfei snatched the mangled piece from her grasp. “What’s the matter with you today? You could have hurt yourself!” She dropped to a crouch and inspected Tong Yuwu’s thumb, exhaling in relief when it was unscathed. “What on earth are you thinking? Tell Mother.”
Tong Yuwu let her mother fuss over her hand, her eyes locked on the severed king head lying on the ground. Then, out of nowhere, she said, “I didn’t get a birthday present.”
Tong Renfei looked puzzled. “What?” she said. “You mean a birthday gift for your eighth birthday? I haven’t prepared anything yet. Where did you get that idea?”
Tong Yuwu shook her head. “From eight to eighteen, I never got one.”
“You child…” Tong Renfei stood up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tong Yuwu lifted her head, her gaze locked tightly on her, and asked again, “Can I have a cat?”
“What cat?” Tong Renfei caught on. “As a birthday gift?”
Tong Yuwu nodded, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. “Yeah.”
“Tch.” Tong Renfei rubbed her forehead. “You know I can’t stand those things that don’t listen and cause trouble everywhere, right?”
Tong Yuwu opened her mouth to speak, but Tong Renfei cut her off. With a final “Don’t even think about it,” she swept out of the room with Aiwen.
A maid entered to remind her that the afternoon Appreciation Class was about to begin. The young noble miss hopped down from her chair and stepped over the scattered black-and-white chess pieces on the floor as she left the room.
The dream cut off there. In the next moment, Tong Yuwu opened her eyes to the familiar sight of the dormitory ceiling.
Her body felt a little uncomfortable. When she shifted slightly, she realized a head crowned with long silver hair was pillowed right on her shoulder.
They must have been like that for quite some time, because that side of her body was starting to go numb.
But she didn’t move. In the quiet darkness of the night, she turned her head, straining to make out the face sleeping peacefully on her shoulder.
One mischievous strand of silver hair had strayed from the rest trailing down Meng Yiran’s back, draping rebelliously across her cheek instead. Tong Yuwu stared at it for a long moment before she couldn’t resist any longer. She reached out with her free hand and gently tucked the strand back into place.
“Huh? What’s wrong?” Meng Yiran jolted awake. She pushed herself up, blinking blearily as she looked around.
It took her a moment to focus, until she met Tong Yuwu’s open eyes on the bed. Meng Yiran licked her dry lips. “You’re awake already? Did you really have a nightmare?”
Tong Yuwu thought back to the dream and nodded honestly. “Yeah.”
Meng Yiran reached out and patted her chest lightly, over and over. “Don’t be scared, don’t be scared. It’s all over now. None of it was real.”
After a while, she asked cautiously, “Was it a really scary nightmare? Scarier than the one I went into last time?”
Tong Yuwu nodded. “Yeah.”
Remembering Tong Renfei’s parting words, she murmured, “Scarier than last time.”
Meng Yiran’s nose stung.
She lowered herself and loosely hugged Tong Yuwu. “Don’t think about it anymore. It was all fake.” Then she grumbled, “Is that Mental Treatment Potion we got a counterfeit? Why can’t we see any effect from it? You have a nightmare every time you take a dose?”
Tong Yuwu tried to lift her arm to rub her brow and check her Spiritual Power, but the moment she moved, discomfort made her frown.
Meng Yiran had keen eyesight and didn’t miss the subtle shift in her expression. “What’s wrong?”
Tong Yuwu flexed her numb shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
Meng Yiran spotted the red mark on her shoulder and realized what had happened, a beat too late.
Her face flushed bright red. “D-did I crush you?” She tripped over her words. “When I fell asleep, I could’ve sworn I was using the pillow next to me.”
Tong Yuwu massaged her shoulder, her tone flat. “Because the pillow was softer?”
“Huh?” Meng Yiran missed the dry sarcasm. “Yeah…”
She drew in a deep breath, staring at the mark on Tong Yuwu’s shoulder. “Sorry, I really didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”
Tong Yuwu closed her eyes and murmured a faint “Mm.”
Meng Yiran sensed the air grow thick and awkward. She lay back down carefully and whispered, “It’s still a long time until dawn. Let’s sleep for now. Everything else… we can talk about it tomorrow.”
With that, she adjusted her arms and legs into the straightest, least intrusive position possible, closed her eyes, and tried to chase sleep.
But the unfamiliar posture left her uncomfortable all over, her mind buzzing with tangled thoughts. She couldn’t drift off right away.
Suddenly, she felt Tong Yuwu stirring beside her.
Eyes still shut, she couldn’t see, but she sensed the other girl slowly drawing closer. At last, something warm and soft settled against her shoulder, light breaths fanning her neck.
Meng Yiran opened her eyes and saw Tong Yuwu’s thick, glossy black hair.
She stammered, “W-what’s up?”
Tong Yuwu rubbed against her shoulder, seemingly comparing something, before answering, “I think you’re softer.”
Meng Yiran’s mind went blank. “What?”
But this time, the Noble Miss offered no reply.
Her breathing gradually grew long and even. Her body relaxed completely, yet she remained utterly still. Clearly, she had drifted back to sleep.
Meng Yiran dutifully played the role of a human pillow, not daring to move a muscle.
The soft warmth nestled beside her teased her nerves over and over, filling her with both delight and torment.
She had no memory of how she finally fell asleep that night. All she recalled was waking at dawn to find Tong Yuwu—who had already slipped from the bed—standing at the bedside. The girl leaned over and asked if her shoulder was sore.
The hazy morning light bathed the Noble Miss by the bed, highlighting her red lips and white teeth, her every glance radiant.
Meng Yiran yanked the blanket up to cover her flushing cheeks once more.
It took a long moment before a muffled response emerged from beneath the covers. “Not sore…”
It was just a simple reply, yet Tong Yuwu seemed to take it to heart.
That evening, she gazed at Meng Yiran, who had turned back into a cat early on. She seized Little White Cat’s front paws and demanded, “Change back.”
Little White Cat lifted her head in a daze, meowing in bewilderment several times.
The Noble Miss declared righteously, pointing at her shoulder. “I want to pillow on it.”
Little White Cat: “Meow meow meow??”
Helpless, she shifted back to human form and tried reasoning with Tong Yuwu. In the end, though, she conceded defeat and offered up her shoulder.
With soft warmth nestled beside her, Meng Yiran stared at the ceiling she had scrutinized countless times the night before, sighing silently to herself.
