Tang Lici stood up from the chair, took a step back, and steadied himself by gripping the bedpost behind him. This wasn’t the first time he had heard someone say, "Xiao Fu is better than you—he’s better than you." The last person to say those words was Tang Yingdi, on the night the Copper Flute Band had finalized their lead singer. With that single sentence, Tang Yingdi had dismissed all the effort Tang Lici had poured into forming the band and handed the lead singer position to Fu Zhumei.
Tang Yingdi was his father. He had claimed that a mere restaurant handyman sang better than his own son. He had even planned to entrust the band’s entire songwriting to Fu Zhumei because, in his eyes, not only did Fu Zhumei sing well, but his creative direction was also more "correct" than Tang Lici’s.
After that night, Tang Lici had invited the other three band members out for drinks. He poisoned the alcohol, tampered with the wiring to cause a short circuit, and deliberately spilled liquor onto the exposed connections to start a fire. Then, he drew the Swiss army knife he carried and—just as the overhead wires snapped and exploded—sealed their fates in a blaze from which none of their lives could ever turn back.
Three years had passed.
He thought he had escaped that nightmare.
But Fu Zhumei was a curse. No matter where Tang Lici went, no matter how outstanding, how brilliant, how hardworking he was, in Fu Zhumei’s presence, he would always be worthless. That fool didn’t have to lift a finger—everyone just assumed he was wonderful. Because he was simple-minded, the slightest effort from him was praised as if he had given his all. People would clap for him, cheer for him, celebrate him.
If Fu Zhumei was present, all attention would inevitably shift to him. People loved an idiot who would grin and answer loudly the moment his name was called. That’s all he was—an idiot! A fool who never knew how to solve problems and would always turn to others for help! A tasteless, visionless imbecile who couldn’t even decide what clothes to wear without asking someone else! A puppet who would sit when told to sit, stand when told to stand, and drop to the ground when ordered to! A moron who had once gotten poisoned for some absurd reason and nearly gotten Tang Lici killed in Luoyang!
Because Xiao Fu is better than you—he’s better than you.
The moment he heard those words again, he wanted to kill this woman. If he hadn’t heard them before, he might have actually done it.
Did no one… ever consider how much he had sacrificed to become this exceptional?
Why did everyone always prefer that kind of fool?
Was it simply because most people couldn’t bring themselves to be that idiotic? Couldn’t force themselves to smile at everyone, to answer whenever their name was called, to sit when told to sit, stand when told to stand, drop when told to drop… Tch! That was something a dog would do! Only a stupid mutt would wag its tail at everyone—yet somehow, people adored it.
A cold droplet fell onto the back of his hand. He lifted it to wipe his forehead—his entire body was drenched in cold sweat. A Shui stared at him with dazed, unfocused eyes, lost in her own world where everything was a surreal blur. To him, she looked utterly defenseless, ripe for torment.
He bent down slowly, picked up a shard of broken porcelain from the floor, and gripped it tightly. Then, with deliberate movements, he brought the jagged edge toward A Shui’s throat.
She didn’t move, as if unaware of what he was doing. She remained trapped in her own fragmented reality, where nothing made sense.
The porcelain shard inched closer to her neck. Even he didn’t know whether he intended to carve a deep wound into her flesh—or if he truly meant to kill her right then and there.
"Hey! What are you doing?"A flash of pink light streaked before their eyes, followed by a soft "tap." The shard of porcelain in Tang Lici's hand abruptly split in two and fell to the ground. Yu Tuan'er's face was pressed protectively against A Shui's throat, her hand gripping Little Peach Red as she glared at him furiously. "Are you delirious from the fever? Are you trying to kill someone? Who do you want to kill? This is absurd! Get back to bed and sleep!"
A Shui shuddered in shock, lifting her head to stare blankly at Tang Lici. He looked at Yu Tuan'er and A Shui, and for a moment, she almost thought he would kill them both. But his hand clenched tightly around the broken porcelain, so tightly that blood seeped from between his fingers. "Little girl," he said calmly, "take your sister A Shui out and make her a bowl of ginger soup."
He could actually speak so calmly.
Yu Tuan'er pointed at his nose and snapped, "If I ever see you mistreat Sister A Shui again, I’ll be the one killing you!" Tang Lici ignored her, his voice still composed. "Get out." When Yu Tuan'er opened her mouth to retort again, his bloodstained finger pointed at the door. "Out."
A Shui took Yu Tuan'er's hand and staggered out with her.
Tang Lici watched the door close behind them. Blood from the wound on his right hand dripped down his slender fingers one drop at a time. Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through his abdomen. Out of habit, he raised his left hand to press against his stomach—then froze in shock.
The place that had pulsed like a second heartbeat for so long... had stopped.
Fang Zhou's heart was no longer beating.
Had he truly died?
Was it Shen Langhun’s blade that killed him?
Tang Lici’s chaotic, frenzied thoughts collided with this sudden, devastating blow. He held his breath, straining to feel the heart buried deep within him, the searing pain in his gut—but all he heard was his own frantic, erratic heartbeat. Fang Zhou’s heart was silent, as if it had never beaten at all.
Stunned, he lowered his hand from his stomach and looked up. The world spun violently. Though the sky was bright, his vision plunged abruptly into darkness.
Meanwhile, at Beauty Abode in Jiaoyu Town, the group had not seen Liu Yan but had received a letter written by him. The contents of that letter spread far and wide as the various sects returned to their own factions, and within seven or eight days, it had become common knowledge. Dissolute Shop had laid an ambush outside Beauty Abode, intending to control the leaders of the major sects, but Tang Lici had foiled their scheme. The sects were grateful, yet after the incident, Tang Lici did not return to Good Cloud Mountain—no one knew where he had gone.
Azure Fall Palace.
Wan Yu Yuedan listened to the recent rumors circulating the martial world, his expression gentle as he sipped lightly at his tea. Fu Zhumei sat beside him, also drinking tea—though his was milk tea. Azure Fall Palace had large-leaf black tea, and Fu Zhumei had naturally taken to brewing it with milk and sugar. The men found this strange concoction unpalatable, but the palace maids adored it. After learning the method, they began experimenting daily—sometimes adding osmanthus sugar, other times rose syrup—and whenever they came up with a new variation, they would bring it for Fu Zhumei to taste. He never refused and would earnestly critique each flavor, offering pointers. Soon, everyone had mastered the art of brewing smooth, fragrant, and richly aromatic milk tea."The tea in Xiao Fu's cup always smells better than others'." Wan Yu Yuedan inhaled the faint milky aroma in the air and smiled. His voice was leisurely, pleasant to the ear. Fu Zhumei felt happy hearing his praise. "Would you like some, Xiao Yue?" Although Wan Yu Yuedan didn't particularly favor milk, he nodded. Fu Zhumei became even more delighted and immediately went back to his room to prepare the tea.
Tie Jing watched his retreating figure with a faint smile. This Fu Gongzi was truly amusing—there wasn't the slightest trace of a martial artist about him from head to toe. A mere smile from someone could make him so happy. Wan Yu Yuedan lightly tapped his teacup with a finger. "After hearing news of Liu Yan, did Hong Guniang not mention leaving Azure Fall Palace?" Tie Jing coughed lightly. "I haven't heard of that." Wan Yu Yuedan smiled. "That's good." Tie Jing observed Wan Yu Yuedan's elegant profile. "But I've heard that the new faction from Dissolute Shop recently emerging in the Martial Arts World—the leader of the Seven Cloud Traveling Guests, 'Yin Yang Ghost Peony'—has expressed interest in seeking out Hong Guniang's whereabouts."
"I imagine many would wish to seek out Hong Guniang's whereabouts," Wan Yu Yuedan said, the creases at the corners of his eyes spreading pleasantly. "But I've also heard some strange news." His fingers lightly drummed the table. "I heard Zhao Zongjing and Zhao Zongying have found the long-lost 'Langya Princess' and are petitioning the Emperor to grant her an official title." Tie Jing was puzzled. "Is Hong Guniang not the princess? If she isn't, how could she possess that 'Langya County' jade pendant?" Wan Yu Yuedan raised his eyelashes slightly. "I heard the one being honored as the princess is Zhong Chunji." Tie Jing was utterly shocked, staring wide-eyed. Azure Fall Palace had neighbored Xue Xianzi's Snow Tea Manor for years, yet he never knew Zhong Chunji held such royal status. "Miss Zhong is a princess? But she's never mentioned her background." Wan Yu Yuedan shook his head, his expression calm. "Miss Zhong is not a princess." Tie Jing asked quietly, "How can the Palace Master be certain?" Wan Yu Yuedan replied slowly, "Because she is Xue Xianzi's biological daughter. Since Xue Xianzi is not the Emperor, she naturally cannot be a princess."
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