Zhao Rucheng slept until the afternoon before finally waking. He shifted uncomfortably, intending to drift back to sleep, but felt as though something was nagging at the back of his mind.

Had he not caught a faint, sweet, metallic scent last night?

He leaped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and hurried outside.

Passing through the courtyard, he saw Jiang Wang practicing his sword. Even in his haste, he tossed out a comment: “Third Brother, your bedding needs changing. It’s awfully lumpy.”

Before Jiang Wang could reply, Zhao Rucheng had vanished without a trace.

“Hey!”

Jiang Wang called out, but Zhao Rucheng was already gone. He was baffled. “I just changed my bedding at the beginning of the month.”

He put away his sword and went to his bedroom. He rummaged through the bed, but found nothing amiss. Finally, he lifted the entire bedding and discovered a small splinter of wood on the bed frame.

“…”

“He felt that splinter through two layers of bedding?”

“Perhaps this is simply the life of a pampered young master…”

…

The Cloud Cranes of Lingxiao Pavilion didn’t fly back and forth like carrier pigeons. In truth, they remained within the clouds, becoming one with the sea of clouds. Daoist power carried messages through the white clouds, and only when approaching its target would a wisp of cloud be “torn off” and transformed into a Cloud Crane to descend.

Prior to this, even if one detected the Daoist power, it would be nearly impossible to decipher the message within. All one would obtain was a burst of dissipated energy.

Thus, Cloud Crane transmission was a highly secure method of communication.

Ye Qingyu’s letters usually arrived in the evening, shortly after nightfall, before it was completely dark. This particular letter was a few days late, likely delayed by some unforeseen matter.

The Cloud Crane flew in through the window, but as Jiang Wang reached out to receive it, it veered away and landed in front of Jiang An’an.

“The letter is for me!” Jiang An’an giggled, setting aside her calligraphy practice and clutching the Cloud Crane, now a cloud-paper, and a memory stone in her small hands.

“Yes, yes, it’s for you,” Jiang Wang said with a doting smile, leaning in to read it with her.

Suddenly, Jiang An’an clutched the letter and spun around, running out of the room. “You can’t see it!”

“…”

Jiang An’an remained secluded in her bedroom for quite some time before returning to the study.

“Where’s the Cloud Crane?”

“I wrote a reply, and it flew back!”

Jiang Wang, who had been reading a Daoist scripture, turned his head. “I haven’t even written a reply yet.”

Jiang An’an glared at him triumphantly. “This letter was addressed to me. It has nothing to do with you!”

He remembered when she had only managed to tack a simple greeting onto his letters. Now, she had successfully hijacked his pen-pal relationship, usurping Jiang Wang’s position.

Jiang An’an pulled out a small, adorable Cloud Crane, showing it off. “Qingyu-jiejie even gifted me a little Cloud Crane. Now I can write to her directly whenever I miss her!”

Transmission Cloud Cranes were not simply cloud beasts; they could locate the intended recipient and ensure the safety of the enclosed messages. Truly, they were remarkable and wondrous creatures.

Just look at the esteemed Du Yechu, Old Man Du, who boasted loudly, yet could only command a dim-witted underling to run back and forth relaying messages verbally! He had probably never even seen, much less possessed, such a treasure as a Cloud Crane.

Of course, neither did Jiang Wang…

“Alright,” Jiang Wang said sourly. “Just don’t come crying to me if there are words you don’t recognize in the letter, or words you can’t write in your reply.”

“Hmph.” Jiang An’an proudly pointed to the calligraphy exercises on her small desk. “I’ve memorized all the characters on these pages!”

“Impressive, impressive,” Jiang Wang said listlessly, returning to his Daoist scripture.

“I’ll buy you new ones tomorrow. Twenty sets!” he silently vowed.

An’an picked up her small writing brush and diligently resumed her calligraphy practice.

Turning the page, Jiang Wang suddenly remembered Du Yechu’s message from earlier in the day. He asked casually, “An’an, do you ever think about someone? Someone who’s about my age, who’s been gone for a while?”

“Who?”

“Oh, nobody.”

*An’an-meimei must miss you very much? Hmm? Du Laohu?*

…

In the Three Fragrance Pavilion, within Miaoyu’s chambers, the head of the Fang family, Fang Zehou, sat upon a chair, savoring the aroma of the fragrant tea.

“What does Elder Fang think?” Miaoyu asked softly.

Fang Zehou sniffed for a moment, then set the teacup down.

“Not much,” he said, as if judging the tea itself.

“You can name your conditions,” Miaoyu said, unfazed, her smile never faltering.

“No conditions will suffice,” Fang Zehou said, rising to his feet and brushing off his long robe. “I won’t touch anything that’s beyond my reach.”

The outside world believed he was obsessed with beauty, utterly captivated by Miaoyu’s charms. Little did they know, he remained utterly unpersuaded within her fragrant chambers.

“Has Elder Fang forgotten how the Yun Nation trade route was established?”

Fang Zehou halted, a slight smile on his face. “I am grateful for the Three Fragrance Pavilion’s assistance in establishing the Yun Nation trade route. But business is business. I paid every single coin I owed. We settled our accounts fairly, with no lingering debt. Surely the Three Fragrance Pavilion wouldn’t try to leverage that against me?”

“Of course not. If Elder Fang insists on refusing, we won’t force you.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Lady Miaoyu,” Fang Zehou said, then sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, but the situation in the Yun Nation is so tense right now. No one dares to take anyone across the border. No matter who that person is, the risk is too great.”

Miaoyu gave a charming smile. “Elder Fang needn’t say more. Miaoyu understands everything.”

“Lady Miaoyu is understanding and has extraordinary magnanimity. I shall take my leave now and disturb you again in the future.”

Fang Zehou bowed and departed.

Watching the door close behind him, Miaoyu smiled.

“If it was truly a transaction with the Three Fragrance Pavilion, of course you would have settled your accounts fairly, with no lingering debt.”

“But it was the White Bone Path who helped you. How can you ever be truly free of them?”

…

In a secret chamber within the Moon Gazing Tower, Fang Heling asked, his hands clasped behind his back, “Are the arrangements complete?”

The steward, standing below him, bowed his head. “Yes, they’re complete. But Young Master, right now…”

Fang Heling waved his hand, interrupting him. “Just do as I’ve instructed. I’ll take responsibility!”

The steward had worked for the Fang family for over a decade, and understood Fang Heling’s importance in Fang Zehou’s eyes.

But this matter was of great importance, and his expression betrayed his unease. “It wasn’t easy for us to establish this trade route. We don’t know what kind of trouble this person is in. If the Yun Nation finds out, our business could be ruined.”

With Fang Pengju’s death, the Fang family’s future was seen as less promising than the other two families. Coupled with the Heart-Eating Demon’s breach of the ancestral hall’s protective formation and the murder of a pillar of the family, a crucial figure, the Fang family’s reputation was now shaky. One could even say that the Fang family was largely supported by their exclusive access to the Yun Nation trade route.

Thus, the Fang family couldn’t afford to take such a risk.

But the current head of the Fang family was Fang Zehou, and the title of Clan Leader was merely waiting for the ailing Old Clan Leader to pass away. Fang Heling, as Fang Zehou’s son, the definite future Clan Leader, and a disciple within the Inner Sect of the City Dao Academy, held considerable power. The steward simply could not refuse his words, his orders.

Because of the urgency of the matter, he hadn’t even had the chance to report to Fang Zehou.

“They may be unknown to you, but I know them well. You can rest assured, I’ll take responsibility for any problems.”

Fang Heling dismissed the steward with a few words, then left the secret chamber.

Soon, he entered a private room, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and jovial conversation.

He was hosting a banquet for his fellow disciples, seemingly oblivious to any trouble.

If something were to truly happen, it couldn’t possibly be traced back to him.