To be precise, Li Chao Yang was "almost awake," but not truly conscious yet.
According to the antidote recipe provided by the High Priest, it contained countless herbs that Lu Qianqiao had never even heard of. It was only after consulting Meishan Jun that he managed to gather them all. The herbs were boiled daily in a massive cauldron, and the person under the curse was then soaked in the medicinal brew—no one knew for how long. Even someone as tough-skinned as the War Ghost Li Chao Yang had been soaked for months, her skin wrinkled and yellowed from the potion's hue.
When Lu Qianqiao arrived, she was curled up in the vat of medicinal liquid, groaning with tightly shut eyes, her expression shifting endlessly.
The War Ghosts of the Li clan crowded the room, not daring to blink as they stared at her.
This version of Li Chao Yang was a rare sight.
Born into nobility among the War Ghosts, she had been disciplined and self-restrained since childhood, seldom smiling or speaking. After undergoing her Transformation Tribulation at twenty-five and achieving the form of a Perfect War Devil, she rarely even furrowed her brows. A Li Chao Yang with such vivid expressions was unimaginable.
Now, she frowned deeply, as if facing an impossible dilemma in her dreams. Moments later, the corners of her lips suddenly lifted—she was smiling.
A sweet smile.
Li Min and the others held their breath.
A pristine white sheet suddenly draped over the vat, concealing the medicinal brew. Lu Qianqiao leaned over the edge, brushing aside the damp strands clinging to her forehead, and murmured, "Everyone, out."
No matter how reluctant they were, Lu Qianqiao was currently the closest among the clan to achieving the Perfect War Devil form. War Ghosts, who revered strength fanatically, would never defy his words. One by one, they filed out of the room, gently closing the door behind them.
Lu Qianqiao fetched a bucket of clean water, carefully untangling and washing her knotted, sticky hair before clumsily combing it through with a horn comb.
She smiled, frowned, looked sorrowful, then relieved.
Was she dreaming of the most brilliant and tumultuous period of her life?
He knew little about his parents' past. As a child, he had heard whispers that the elders had never been optimistic about their union. Later, she killed Lu Jing Ran and returned alone to the clan, severing all fragile emotions, leaving mother and son separated forever.
Perhaps... perhaps she and Lu Jing Ran had once shared something sweet, just like him and Xin Mei. Unlike him, the seventeen-year-old Li Chao Yang had been direct and passionate in love, marrying the man she adored without a second thought. In the beginning, they had been happy.
But the trivialities of life eroded that happiness. Perhaps the moment she transformed into a Perfect War Devil and killed Lu Jing Ran, she felt a cathartic release. She had succumbed to the instinct to kill, leaving behind only emptiness and faint regret.
Was that why she didn’t want her only son to walk the same path?
Lu Qianqiao gently wiped her damp cheeks with a soft cloth when he noticed her lashes tremble—two large teardrops rolled down. Then, after nearly half a year, her eyes finally opened.
He froze.
Their gazes locked in silent intensity.
"Qianqiao."
After a long pause, Li Chao Yang spoke, her voice hoarse and dry. She looked at him and, unprecedentedly, smiled—a little sorrowful, a little weary.
"I dreamed of your father."Lu Qianqiao grabbed a lock of her wet hair and continued combing: "...What did he say to you?"
"He said he had questions for me, and that he would wait."
She gazed blankly into the unknown distance, blinking in confusion.
"I was happy to see him again."
Lu Qianqiao looked up in surprise. The word "happy" sounded almost unbelievable coming from her lips.
Li Chao Yang tried to push herself up in the large vat but was too weak to even stand. As he reached out to steady her, she grasped his wrist and instructed, "The redwood cabinet on the east side, third drawer on the right. Bring me what's inside."
Following her words, he opened the drawer to find a deep purple brocade box containing two wax pills the size of chicken eggs. Within them pulsed a faint golden light, accompanied by a subtle, delicate fragrance.
When he brought the pills to her, Li Chao Yang shook her head.
"These were the final rewards left by the last Heavenly God in ancient times... My Li Clan has preserved them through generations, reserving them only for the most desperate times. When your transformation failed and the Youhu Clan came to provoke us, I considered taking one to resolve our predicament. But... fortunately, I didn't use them."
Someone was still waiting for her by the River of Forgetfulness, year after year, day after day. She wouldn't trade his waiting for eternal immortality—nothing could make her exchange that.
"My body will need several years to fully recover. Qianqiao, today I formally pass these two pills to you. I hope... you'll never have the opportunity to use them in your lifetime."
Lu Qianqiao smiled faintly and tucked the pills into his robe. "Let me help you up."
The curse inflicted upon Li Chao Yang was exceptionally vicious and potent. Combined with nearly half a year of soaking in medicinal broth, even the strongest physique couldn't endure such torment unscathed. It would likely take a year or two before she could regain her former glory as the Perfect War Ghost. Had the High Priest calculated this? Though he hadn't killed her outright, he had effectively stalled her for several years, giving the Youhu Clan breathing room—or perhaps, a chance for both clans to cool their heads.
News of Li Chao Yang's awakening naturally brought great joy to the Li Clan, and War Ghosts from other major clans also expressed relief, lightening the recent oppressive atmosphere within the tribe.
After hastily washing off the sticky medicinal residue, Li Chao Yang, utterly exhausted, soon fell into a deep sleep once more.
As the moon climbed to its zenith, Lu Qianqiao sat by the bedside, one hand resting on his mother's wrist to monitor her pulse, while the other unconsciously reached into his robe and retrieved the carefully wrapped amethyst hairpin.
Tomorrow would be the third day of the fifth month. He likely wouldn't make it back in time—this hairpin was destined never to adorn her hair on her birthday.
...
The general felt both frustrated and guilty.
"Have Li Yan deliver it to the Imperial Mausoleum."
Li Chao Yang's sudden words from the bed startled him slightly.
Her eyes remained closed, her expression calm as she added, "The clan's killing intent has been too strong lately. Don't bring that girl here. Let Li Yan deliver the item."
Lu Qianqiao hesitated for a moment. "Mother..."
"I won't stand in your way. But when you're on the battlefield, divided thoughts will leave openings for enemies to exploit. Qianqiao, I need you to give our clan five years—at least until I've recovered before you return."
He fell silent.
"If you miss her, then muster all your strength to resolve the Youhu Clan's affairs as quickly as possible. Only with no worries at your back can you move forward freely—that's what makes a true man."Still silent.
"That girl will wait for you."
Yes, Xin Mei would wait for him—he knew that well in his heart. Five years, ten years, if it were her, she would undoubtedly wait steadfastly without a word of complaint, waiting for him to come home.
He wasn’t a good husband, always making her wait.
But Xin Mei, I will definitely come home.
In this world, only where you are is my home.
Four years later, the third day of the fifth month—
Another third day of the fifth month. Just like usual, Xin Mei woke up before dawn, grabbed a steamed meat bun from the kitchen, and while blowing on it to cool it down, climbed up the hill to gaze into the distance as part of her routine.
If Lu Qianqiao were to return, he would surely take this path. Today was her twenty-first birthday—maybe he would come back? If he didn’t return soon, she would truly become an old woman.
The day before yesterday, Li Min had come to deliver a letter and a gift—Lu Qianqiao wrote to her every month, always including a present. Sometimes it was pearl earrings, other times a necklace made of seashells. She remembered one time when he had killed some kind of demon beast. Hearing that its liver was highly beneficial if eaten, he had insisted Li Yan deliver it to her, carrying it all that way, still bloody.
In the end, while cooking, the liver emitted such a foul stench that the demons in the Imperial Mausoleum all groaned in misery. Even Li Yan turned pale, covering his nose and refusing to eat it. She forced herself to take one bite, just to humor Lu Qianqiao, then buried the rest in a hole.
The day before yesterday, Li Min had brought a pink silk dress embroidered with peach blossoms. The fabric was said to be some rare "blue silk" that only appeared once in a thousand years—light, exquisite, and even fragrant.
He said, "The young master instructed that you should wear this new dress while the spring scenery is still lovely. Who knows, he might return any day now."
Xin Mei frowned. "What do you mean, 'might return any day now'?"
"How should I know? You can ask him yourself when he comes back."
That infuriating man. Four years ago, on her seventeenth birthday, she had waited for him all day on that hill, but he never came. He only sent Li Yan with a hairpin and a letter, the wording of which was stiff and rigid: Wait for me. I will return within five years.
Was he so certain she would wait? Now, four years had passed, and he was playing this vague game again— might return any day now ?
"Oh, then go back and tell him for me—if he doesn’t come back soon, who knows , I might just find myself a pretty boy."
Li Min remained completely unfazed. "The Imperial Mausoleum is full of demons. There are no pretty boys here."
Xin Mei was a little angry. "What about Li Yan? He counts as a pretty boy, doesn’t he?! Next time, send him!"
Li Min was still calm. "He can’t come recently. His twenty-fifth-year Transformation Tribulation has arrived."
In recent years, the young members of the War Ghost Clan had been facing their Transformation Tribulations one after another. The year before last, it was Li Min, who had passed it smoothly. Though he didn’t become a Perfect War Devil like Li Chao Yang, as a pure-blooded War Ghost who had survived the tribulation, he was now a formidable force. This year, it was Li Yan’s turn. He was also pure-blooded, so his transformation shouldn’t be a problem.
It seemed that with the constant addition of new combatants, the Youhu Clan in the south had finally been overwhelmed, forced to abandon their ancestral home where they had lived for generations and go into hiding to evade the War Ghosts’ pursuit. Rumor had it that someone had even sent a letter seeking peace recently, though it was unclear whether it was true. Judging by the attitudes of Li Min and Li Yan, who no longer seemed as tense as before, the conflict between the two clans was likely nearing its end."By the way, the young master has a birthday gift for you."
Li Min expressionlessly placed a half-person-tall wooden box from the backpack on the ground and opened it. Inside were two exquisitely lifelike dolls. One wore armor with a long whip at its waist, looking majestic and awe-inspiring. The other had its hair tied up in a bun, wearing a silk dress with a gentle smile, holding a small tofu-carved figurine.
"Ah..." Xin Mei was stunned.
These two dolls... weren't they miniature versions of her and Lu Qianqiao? The eyebrows, eyes, nose... even her carefree, smiling expression was exactly the same!
"The young master said, this is called... this is called..."
Li Min frowned, clearly reluctant to say such mushy words.
"This is called 'A Match Made in Heaven.'"
His heart was bleeding—how could that brilliant, ruthless young master on the battlefield casually utter such cheesy, ambiguous words!
Xin Mei picked up the two dolls, looking at one and kissing the other, grinning from ear to ear, completely forgetting her earlier talk about finding a pretty boy.
"Then tell him for me—Lu Qianqiao, I miss you so much it hurts, my heart rains every day, and only when you return will my heart be filled with sunshine..."
"Stop!"
Li Min couldn't take it anymore, rubbing the goosebumps on his arms.
"Five words or less."
"Oh, then tell him to come home early."
...
Whether Li Min relayed the message or not, Xin Mei waited on the hillside as usual for an hour, but not a single figure appeared—just a few fierce ghosts from the burial pits.
A quarter past Chen hour, Xin Xiong waved at her from the foot of the hill: "Xiao Mei, come eat!"
Two years ago, he had handed over the Sinister Clan's business to a few disciples and moved to the Imperial Mausoleum with his wife's memorial tablet to live with his daughter, enjoying his retirement. In his free time, he taught Tao Guoguo and his younger brother to read, helped Si Lan with gardening, and discussed with Zhao Guanren how to make his operatic scripts more captivating.
But Xin Mei thought his most impressive feat was how he spent his days persuading Ying Lian with life advice, spinning words so eloquently that he even convinced her to consider marrying Uncle Bear from the north, who kept proposing.
Xin Xiong was quite proud of this: "After all, your husband is a vigorous young man. If a beautiful demoness keeps pining for him, who knows what might happen? Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll handle it for you!"
Her father was truly a miraculous existence. At twenty-one, Xin Mei was more certain of this than ever.
"Did your husband miss your birthday again this year?"
During the meal, Xin Xiong asked casually.
Xin Mei frowned: "I don’t know, but it’s not the first time. Doesn’t matter."
Xin Xiong thought for a moment: "Sweetheart, after we eat, let’s light some incense for your mother."
After moving to the Imperial Mausoleum, Xin Xiong had converted a storage room north of the Returning Flower Hall into a small shrine with an incense burner and memorial tablet. Every day, without fail, he offered fresh water, flowers, and incense.
Lighting two sticks of incense, the two stood silently before the tablet for a moment before he suddenly spoke: "Your mother was a disciple of a cultivation sect, roaming the land to uphold justice. She was incredibly capable."
Xin Mei was stunned. Though her father often spoke of how kind and gentle her mother was, he had never mentioned what she did. She had always assumed her mother was just an ordinary girl."After we got married, she often couldn't stay at home. Her sect frequently summoned her, and each time she left, it could be for months or even years. I never knew when she'd return, so every day I'd light two lanterns by the front gate. Greenwater Town was poor—no one kept lights burning outside their homes at night. But you see, in all that darkness, those two lanterns stood out clearly. When your mother saw them, she'd never mistake the way home, and she'd know I was waiting for her."
Xin Mei blinked, then turned to leave: "Then I'll go light lanterns outside the Imperial Mausoleum."
"That's not what I meant."
Xin Xiong quickly grabbed her arm, wiping sweat from his brow. Communicating with this daughter of his was truly exhausting.
"Two people living together must learn to accommodate each other. You're both still young, and your husband is exceptionally capable. If your mother had been as formidable as him, I'd have waited not just four years but fourteen. Unfortunately, she was injured before your birth and passed away mere months after you came into this world. Yet throughout our marriage, we were truly happy—no regrets remained. So don't spend all your time wondering when he'll return, or you'll waste your own happiness. His home is here—he surely wants to return as soon as possible. Don't blame him."
Xin Mei pondered this, then nodded: "If I blamed him, I wouldn't be waiting at all."
Xin Xiong stroked his beard proudly: "My precious girl is already the second-best woman in the world."
"Why not the first?"
"Nonsense—first place belongs to your mother."
After the incense ceremony, Zhao Guanren dragged Xin Xiong away. For years, the second half of A Match Made in Resentment had been rewritten repeatedly without completion. Xin Mei insisted on factual accuracy, Xin Xiong rejected clichéd melodrama, Tao Guoguo demanded fight scenes, Ying Lian wanted profound life lessons, and Si Lan... well, he said those ridiculous puppet shows should just die already.
Zhao Guanren found himself in a predicament. These days, he could only discuss the plot with Xin Xiong—truth be told, Xin Xiong was the only one left in the entire Imperial Mausoleum willing to engage in such discussions.
Watching the two old men walk away, Xin Mei stretched lazily and continued climbing the hillside.
Lilacs bloomed while cherry and apricot blossoms still lingered, painting the landscape in vibrant colors—warm and serene.
It was a beautiful spring.
Xin Mei began singing on the hillside: "Oh my beloved brother, why haven't you come? I've waited till the flowers nearly wilt..."
Her off-key voice carried far, startling flocks of birds into flight.
By the fourth repetition, rustling footsteps approached through the grass. Lying on the slope, Xin Mei tilted her head back, squinting upward.
A pair of mud-caked boots stopped beside her. A dust-covered figure sat down, gently patting her head.
"...I'm back. Stop singing."
If she continued, no bird in these woods would dare nest here again.
Xin Mei bolted upright, eyes wide with disbelief, wariness, and overwhelming joy as she stared at the travel-worn man beside her. His mismatched eyes—one red, one black—remained as profoundly focused as ever, gazing quietly at her.
"Lu Qianqiao!" she shrieked, grabbing both sides of his face and pulling.
Was it really him? Truly him?
He smiled faintly, reaching up to lightly pinch her cheeks in imitation: "Xin Mei."
In the next instant, she threw herself into his dusty embrace. He opened his arms and held her tight.
The one who held her heart had finally come home.
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