Pomegranate Blossoms and Uninvited Guests

Seeing that he had no intention of accepting it, Yan Yi stepped forward and pressed the sachet against his chest.

“Your Excellency, please take it.

It will help relieve your headaches,” she said gently.

“Why did you suddenly think of making a sachet?” Wen Xiaoran asked as if casually.

Yan Yi repeated the explanation she had long prepared.

“I noticed you often rub your temples lately.

Your headaches must have worsened.”

She was observant.

Wen Xiaoran could not help thinking so.

Just as he reached out to take it, Yan Yi cautiously added,

“Your Excellency, earlier outside the study I heard Brother Wen mention the demon race.

Are there truly demons appearing on Mount Fuyu?”

She had followed Bu Shu up the mountain many times to gather herbs and had never heard of such creatures there.

His fingertips brushed the sachet—then withdrew.

He felt she was trying to extract information with a mere token of goodwill.

A mortal physician of little ability, yet filled with little schemes.

“Why are you asking?”

Hearing the edge in his tone, Yan Yi immediately grew alert.

Had she spoken too hastily?

“I—I was just making conversation!” she said awkwardly, withdrawing her hand with an uneasy laugh.

“Your Excellency, don’t you know?

People need to communicate more to build feelings.”

The more outrageous she became, the more his brows knit together.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

She instantly fell silent and once more pushed the sachet toward him.

“Your Excellency, please accept it.

Consider it compensation for Xiao Li.

Even if it didn’t truly scratch your face, splattering you with blood was still our fault.”

Her words flowed smoothly in layers.

Wen Xiaoran stepped back, studying her.

“You must have been accustomed to lying since childhood.”

The certainty in his tone made it sound as though he had watched her grow up.

Hearing the mockery, Yan Yi pursed her lips.

“I rarely lied as a child—unless my mother caught me hiding under the blanket reading novels.”

She looked up curiously at him.

“You know what a novel is, right?

Storybooks.

Are they popular in the Demon Domain?

They’re fascinating—full of love and hatred intertwined, lovers whispering sweet nothings, clinging close, loving to the point of life and death.

Not always just two people—”

“Enough,” he cut in impatiently.

“I know what storybooks are.”

“Oh.”

She touched her nose, inwardly amused.

This old antique surely did not know he himself was the villain of a novel.

“There are rarely demons on Mount Fuyu,” he said evenly.

“Ah?”

She had been drifting in thought and blinked blankly at him.

“You asked about demons on Mount Fuyu.

What is your purpose?”

She nearly choked on her own saliva.

Was she that obvious?

“Haha…”

She forced a laugh.

“I’ve never seen a demon before.

I was curious and couldn’t help asking.

Your Excellency, I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have tested you.”

“It is late.

Rest early.”

He turned to leave.

Yan Yi hurried before him and blocked his path.

“Your Excellency, the sachet!”

She opened her palm, revealing the golden filigree ornament glimmering under the moonlight like the mischievous spark in her eyes.

—

The next morning, Yan Yi had barely opened her eyes when Xiao Li leapt onto the couch with a letter in its mouth.

She assumed it was another urgent letter from her cousin.

Lazily, she unfolded it—

Only to find an invitation from Bu Yingyue to admire pomegranate blossoms on Mount Fuyu.

At the sight of the words “pomegranate blossoms,” she instantly sobered and sprang from bed.

In her childhood, her grandmother’s courtyard had held a pomegranate tree.

When it bloomed, the entire tree blazed with flowers.

Half an hour later, dressed in a soft pink gown and humming a cheerful tune, she set out with Xiao Li in her arms.

At the gate, she spotted a familiar figure approaching.

“Your Excellency!” she called brightly.

“Where are you going?” he asked, one brow raised.

Her gaze lingered unashamedly at his waist.

“Yingyue and Yingxue invited me to Mount Fuyu to see the blossoms.”

She had dressed carefully.

He frowned slightly.

“You’re climbing a mountain dressed like that?”

Finally tearing her eyes away from him, she twirled once.

“Doesn’t it look good?”

She had tried five outfits before choosing this one to match the blossoms.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

Her ears reddened.

“Your Excellency, why aren’t you wearing the sachet I gave you?”

Ah.

So she had been searching for that.

A faint satisfaction stirred in him.

“I forgot,” he replied evenly.

She pouted inwardly.

Of course he would not care about a simple sachet.

“Then I’ll be going.”

She stepped past him, disappointment visible.

Wen Xiaoran watched her retreating figure, his expression gradually softening.

—

The siblings led her to a hillside carpeted with orange-red blossoms.

From afar, a sliver of Taihu Lake shimmered.

“You climb well for a mortal,” Bu Yingyue praised.

Yan Yi muttered inwardly about demons being trained to look down on mortals.

“My parents loved climbing mountains,” she smiled.

“I grew up used to it.”

Bu Yingyue patted her shoulder.

“Be patient.

I’ll ask Mother to persuade His Excellency to let you visit home.”

Yan Yi’s smile stiffened.

She did not wish to return yet.

“Not urgent,” she said simply.

Bu Yingxue observed her expression carefully.

“You don’t want to go home?”

“That’s not it.

My parents are traveling and haven’t returned.”

“Ah.”

Yingyue nodded.

“When they return, tell me.

Mother will convince him.”

“Thank you.”

Even if she did not know when she could complete her mission, having allies helped.

“How beautiful,” Yingyue sighed, lying on the grass beneath clusters of blossoms.

Yan Yi was about to sit when Yingyue suddenly pushed her behind a large tree.

“Shh.”

Moments later, Yingxue vanished.

“Who’s there?” he called.

Two frail figures trembled beneath a nearby tree.

“Don’t kill us!

We’re not bad people,” an elderly voice pleaded.

Yingxue held a sword to the old man’s throat.

Behind him hid a thin boy of seven or eight.

“Let them go,” Yan Yi urged softly.

“They look like refugees.”

Yingyue examined them.

“Refugees in such a remote mountain?”

The old man trembled.

“We got lost.”

Yingyue concluded they were mortals.

Their clothes were tattered, their skin covered in wounds.

“Can we bring them back to treat their injuries?” Yan Yi asked.

Yingyue laughed.

“If His Excellency finds out, he’ll throw you out too.”

The old man shook his head hurriedly.

“Just show us the way.”

Yan Yi frowned.

“Let’s bring them back first,” she decided.

They sneaked toward the residence.

At the gate, she peeked inside—no sign of Wen Xiaoran.

They hurried in like thieves.

But just as she stepped through the courtyard gate, a cold voice rang out.

“Stop.”

She stiffened.

“Your Excellency—”

“Who are they?”

“Ordinary mortals,” she blurted—then corrected herself.

“We found two injured refugees on Mount Fuyu.”

“Throw them out,” he said without hesitation.

Yan Yi stepped closer, pleading softly.

“Your Excellency, if I don’t save them, they will surely die.

You cannot just stand by and watch.”