The Dragon

For a long time, Zhong Michu managed to detach herself from the emotions of her dreams. With her eyes closed, and upon reopening them, she was completely calm. “Scholar Zhai, where is she?”

Scholar Zhai looked into her scrutinizing eyes, weighing how much Zhong Michu had figured out on her own. Perhaps she had known all along but had fallen into the trap just to respect Gu Fuyou’s wishes. Regardless of how much she understood, continuing to cover for Gu Fuyou now was unwise. “It’s quiet outside now. She might have gone to find Zuo Yuanrong. She’s probably in the hall,” she said.

Zhong Michu got out of bed and headed outside. Scholar Zhai didn’t stop her; she couldn’t have even if she wanted to. Shaking her head, she said to the spirit beast beside her, “Yuan Shan, Yuan Shan, this truly is a thankless task.”

Upon stepping outside, Zhong Michu saw that night had fallen, and the cold wind carried the scent of gunpowder, tinged red under the night sky—a sure sign of a fierce battle. She looked around for a while, touched her forehead, sighed softly and long, too tired to put her feelings into words.

Gu Fuyou’s room was behind the hall. Zhong Michu entered through a side door, crossed the corridor, and moved to the left side, hiding in the shadows. She saw the person slumped on the City Lord’s throne, watching her. Gu Fuyou was just propping up her face, enjoying Zuo Yuanrong’s agony.

She walked over, ascended the steps, and came to her side: “Have you finished what you needed to do?”

When Gu Fuyou turned her head, her face, cold for so long, showed little emotion. She looked at Zhong Michu with a detached expression. “Are you here to condemn me? Hoping for a confession?”

Zhong Michu just watched her quietly. After a moment of eye contact, Gu Fuyou gave a slight smile. The two, in tacit understanding, chose not to mention the matter again.

Zhong Michu examined Gu Fuyou from head to toe. She was badly injured, her clothes stained with blood.

Zhong Michu reached out to wipe a streak of blood from Gu Fuyou’s cheek. Sensing her movement, Gu Fuyou turned her head away and wiped her face carelessly with her hand. Zhong Michu’s hand froze in mid-air, and after a long moment, she silently withdrew it.

“Zhong Michu, go back to the Eastern Sea,” Gu Fuyou said.

Zhong Michu was startled. Below the steps, Zuo Yuanrong’s short, gasping breaths, like those of a dying patient struggling for air, grew louder and more urgent, then suddenly stopped. Gu Fuyou glanced at him indifferently, stood up, walked down the steps, and gently lifted Zhong Michu’s skirt that was lying near a bloodstain.

Zhong Michu turned to look at her.

Gu Fuyou, barefoot on the red carpet, stepped over the bodies and bloodstains, heading outside. “It’s about time to break ties with Zuo Shaode. There’s no need to explain your whereabouts to him anymore.”

After a few steps, Gu Fuyou, weakened from her injuries, felt dizzy and stumbled, about to fall. A white figure flashed before her eyes, and someone supported her, easing her fall to a kneeling position on the ground.

Zhong Michu crouched in front of her, her tone neither warm nor cold, “Abandoning me after crossing the river.”

Not far from them lay the body of a Zuo family cultivator, a grim sight. Gu Fuyou saw Zhong Michu’s skirt covering a patch of dried blood and said, looking at her face, “And also being ungrateful.”

“You’re quite aware of it yourself.”

“Having died once, the only improvement is a bit of self-awareness.”

Zhong Michu said softly, “Ah Man.”

Gu Fuyou asked, “Zhong Michu, why don’t you want to leave?”

Zhong Michu didn’t answer. When she came out and saw the scene outside, she knew she no longer needed to wear a mask and had taken it off. Gu Fuyou could clearly see her expression, her eyes. Many things didn’t need to be said aloud.

“Zhong Michu, this is your last chance. If you don’t leave now, you’ll never be able to leave again.”

“Ah Man, it’s always the one pushing me away.”

“You won’t leave?” Gu Fuyou leaned in, smearing the fresh blood from her hand onto Zhong Michu’s fair cheek, turning her exquisite face into a patchwork of red. Holding her face in her hands, Gu Fuyou threatened, “Zhong Michu, your reputation will be ruined. Soon, when people speak of the great demon wreaking havoc in Nanzhou, they will say the Empress colluded with her, both deeply mired in scandal and corruption.”

“No, Ah Man, you are a hero.”

Gu Fuyou wrapped her arms around Zhong Michu’s neck, her laughter brimming with tears as she leaned into her shoulder. “Only you would say such things to me, just like before, and even now.”

Zhong Michu held her waist, suggesting, “Let me take you for treatment.”

“It’s not serious, it will heal on its own.”

“You should take care of your body.”

“This body isn’t mine.”

“Still, you should take care of it.”

“Zhong Michu, when did you become so nagging?”

Zhong Michu was speechless.

Gu Fuyou leaned on her shoulder with closed eyes and a small smile on her lips, murmuring, “I like hearing you nag.” She wasn’t emotionally invulnerable and struggled to keep pushing Zhong Michu away, especially after Zuo Qingfeng’s death left a void in her heart. In her search for the next target of vengeance and something to fill the emptiness, Zhong Michu appeared.

Unable to let go, she asked her to leave. It was her last act of restraint.

Zhong Michu paused, a hint of a smile appearing in her eyes, as she hugged Gu Fuyou closer.

Dawn broke, revealing Gu Fuyou leaning on Zhong Michu, having either fallen asleep from exhaustion or fainted due to her injuries. Zhong Michu gently picked her up and returned to their room, where she asked Scholar Zhai to summon a doctor. Among the slaves, fortunately, were those skilled in both medicine and alchemy. Upon examination, they found that Gu Fuyou’s phoenix body, unlike that of ordinary people, was not seriously harmed. She only needed rest and quiet recuperation.

This time, it was Zhong Michu who sat by the bed, watching Gu Fuyou sleep. Scholar Zhai shook his head, muttering, “How the tables have turned.”

Gu Fuyou woke up around noon and blinked at the person sitting by the bed, slowly recalling what happened before she passed out. Zhong Michu noticed she was awake, and perhaps to make up for the earlier moment when Gu Fuyou had dodged her attempt to wipe her face, she gently brushed away the disheveled hair from her temple.

The gesture was tender and intimate.

Gu Fuyou didn’t shy away; instead, she sat up, turned around, and lay with her head on Zhong Michu’s lap, smiling at her. “I don’t think you’d push me away.” She never used to be this affectionate with Zhong Michu, but now she was compromising. Even though she occupied Qing Jun’s body, she remained a selfish mortal. Her heart was empty, and Zhong Michu was like a bowl of delicious cheese, tempting and irresistible.

Previously, she had to stay away to resist, but the aroma still lingered, haunting her heart. Now, giving up resistance, she began to tentatively explore, starting with just a sniff.

Zhong Michu didn’t push her away. “Confessing for leniency?” She couldn’t help but doubt Gu Fuyou’s motives, given her sudden tenderness.

Gu Fuyou paused, remembering her words from the day before, which sounded like a promise of retribution. “I’m an injured person.”

“It’s not serious.”

Gu Fuyou wondered how much Scholar Zhai had revealed to Zhong Michu. if Zhong Michu was aware of everything, then she had been planning to drug her since their time in Wantong City, where Si Miao had prepared the medicine. The crime was no small matter.

Looking at Zhong Michu’s expression, which was hard to read, she realized that the old Zhong Michu showed little emotion, but the current one was good at hiding her feelings. She was always most willing to show weakness in front of Zhong Michu. “Please be lenient, Your Majesty.”

Zhong Michu’s eyelids drooped slightly as she recalled the dream, her fingertips gently touching Gu Fuyou’s cheek. When Zhong Michu showed no expression, Gu Fuyou actually felt a bit intimidated. After a long pause, Zhong Michu finally spoke, “This won’t happen again.”

In Bailu City, the power of the Zuo family had been eradicated, leaving the city in a post-war state. The slaves, still unsure of what to do without orders, were fortunate to have Xiao Zhongting and Feng Sui, among others, to direct them. They organized the collection of the city’s reserves of spirit stones, magical artifacts, and treasures.

Gu Fuyou and Zhong Michu only emerged when the streets had been mostly cleared. From a distance, they saw the figure of Seven. Gu Fuyou suddenly remembered the woman from Sancong Forest and said, “You saved her, didn’t you?”

Zhong Michu smiled at her. Gu Fuyou continued, “Bring her here.” She looked ahead, deliberately avoiding Zhong Michu’s gaze. If Zhong Michu hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have bothered to save the woman from the forest. She didn’t want Zhong Michu to harbor any hope for her, fearing the eventual disappointment.

“She’s already on her way and should arrive today,” Zhong Michu replied.

As they spoke, Zhong Michu suddenly looked up and announced, “She’s here.”

“Let’s go to the city tower,” Gu Fuyou suggested.

The two headed towards the city tower. Feng Sui, Seven, and Twenty-Three were gathered together, seemingly having collected something from a house. Feng Sui had removed the chains from his shoulders and found some armor to wear. Unlike Seven and Twenty-Three, who showed reverence towards Gu Fuyou, Feng Sui approached her with a smile, asking, “How do I look in this armor?”

Gu Fuyou glanced at him and remarked, “Shave your beard.”

Feng Sui touched his beard in response.

Gu Fuyou called out, “Seven, come with me.”

“Yes,” Seven replied, still accustomed to his slave role, didn’t question but simply obeyed.

Seven followed Gu Fuyou and Zhong Michu to the city tower, with Feng Sui and Twenty-Three trailing behind. Once they reached the top, Gu Fuyou stood there while Twenty-Three waited beside her, head slightly bowed, silent.

Moments later, the clouds in the sky thickened. A handsome young man in silver armor, flying on a sword, approached the city tower with another person in tow. Landing on the tower, he sheathed his sword and greeted Zhong Michu with a bow, “Your Majesty.”

The slaves couldn’t help but express their surprise, with Twenty-Three being the most shocked. They couldn’t resist stealing glances at Zhong Michu, realizing she was no ordinary slave.

Gu Fuyou called out, “Seven.”

Seven looked up. The person following behind Xinghan stepped forward, her delicate voice calling out, “Qi Lang.”

Seven stared at her in disbelief. “Liu Niang?”

His mouth agape, Seven’s eyes suddenly reddened. He couldn’t immediately run to embrace her; instead, he stooped, supporting himself on his legs, crying out in short, abrupt sobs. Men are often said to cry silently, but when they do cry, it’s with great intensity. His face turned flushed red, veins on his forehead throbbing, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Such overwhelming joy was beyond his wildest dreams. Perhaps it was the newfound light in his world that allowed him this moment of vulnerability, bringing forth all the numb despair and pain he had bottled up inside, mixing emotions within him.

Unable to hold back, Seven collapsed to his knees. Liu Niang rushed to him, cradling his head in her arms, her eyes brimming with tears. Seven clung to her, wailing in her embrace.

Gu Fuyou watched them, lost in thought. “It’s truly enviable, their ability to reunite as a family.”

Turning around, she saw Zhong Michu standing behind her. As Gu Fuyou opened her arms slightly, Zhong Michu, understanding her unspoken wish, embraced her.

The sky, always sharing their pain, made it unclear who was comforting whom.

Zhong Michu said, “You have a family too.”

As her words ended, a golden shadow flashed swiftly across the sky, like a beam of golden light shooting their way, a voice growing from distant to near, “Mother!!!”