An Incomplete Date Itinerary

Luo Xiaoxi scanned their surroundings thoroughly, yet she failed to discern anything out of the ordinary.

“Oh…” Xiaoxi complied with a soft murmur.

Miaoming wasn’t entirely certain if she had misheard, but she could actually detect a distinct thread of desolation woven deeply within Xiaoxi’s voice.

“Be a good girl.” Miaoming smiled softly, extracting a few banknotes from her pocket and slipping them firmly into Xiaoxi’s palm; she vividly recalled that Xiaoxi rarely maintained the habit of carrying currency when stepping out. With that handled, she swiftly tracked toward the exact direction she had glimpsed moments ago.

Long Heng’s silhouette was still advancing with immense caution, as though he too were meticulously tracking someone. However, likely due to being far too intensely focused on his query, he failed to detect Miaoming trailing right behind his shadow.

Consequently, Miaoming managed to secure a completely clear view of the target Long Heng was tailing.

It appeared to be a young lady, currently laughing and chatting away with her close circle of friends. Miaoming discovered that her habitually solemn, incredibly rigid old man actually harbored a rare, almost doting grin across his face.

Could it be that after enduring so many centuries of profound loneliness, the old man is finally beginning to contemplate a second spring in life?

A wave of intense, visceral awkwardness immediately washed over Miaoming. One had to realize that the cluster of girls before them were thoroughly, purely mortal humans—which meant their current age spanned merely their late teens or early twenties.

Miaoming herself was two thousand four hundred years old, which meant Long Heng was already well over five thousand years old. If this endeavor of Long Heng’s actually bore fruit, Miaoming’s own age would be more than a hundred and twenty times that of her potential stepmother. This was a reality Miaoming found rather difficult to reconcile.

Of course, Miaoming completely overlooked the fact that she, a majestic dragon, was currently actively attempting to absolute coax and seduce a minor who hadn’t even celebrated her eighteenth birthday. When all was said and done, the two of them were essentially birds of a feather.

The young lady and her companions eventually drifted past the boundaries of the night market. Long Heng trailed the lady, while Miaoming trailed Long Heng.

After parting ways with her circle of friends, the girl took up a position directly beneath a bus stop sign to await her transit. Long Heng, however, harbored absolutely no intention of stepping forward to initiate a conversation. He simply chose to observe her silently from within the dense shadows.

Suddenly, the girl knitted her brows and cast a sharp look in their direction, scanning the vicinity thoroughly. Yet, in the end, she failed to discern anything. After all, she possessed nothing more than a fragile mortal vessel; if Long Heng actively desired to remain concealed, there was absolutely no way she could ever detect him.

Except… Miaoming’s eyes narrowed slightly. This level of spiritual perception is indeed profoundly aberrant for a common mortal.

A harsh beam of headlights swept into the area as the bus finally arrived. The girl vaulted onto the transit vehicle, and the two dragons proceeded to shadow her all the way to the absolute base of her apartment building.

Ultimately, Long Heng silently watched as the girl ascended the stairs, remaining loitering beneath her building for a remarkably long time.

Miaoming’s features twisted into an expression that looked exactly as though she had been forced to swallow a fly. She had truly never discovered that her old man possessed such a deeply sentimental, agonizingly devoted side to his character.

Long Heng finally let out a heavy sigh, preparing to make his departure.

Yet, at this exact moment, the ancient Dragon King, who had been completely, single-mindedly focused on his pursuit throughout the entire journey, finally detected a familiar trace of spiritual energy lingering thick within the air…

“Miaoming? You… why exactly are you here?” Long Heng’s expression turned incomparably awkward.

Seeing that her presence had been completely compromised, Miaoming harbored absolutely no intention of continuing her concealment. She stepped forward boldly.

“If I hadn’t come, who is to say I wouldn’t have suddenly gained a little stepmother out of nowhere one day?” Miaoming’s voice was laced with a sliver of deep irony.

Long Heng could naturally detect the mocking undertone within Miaoming’s words, but what could he possibly do?

“Are you still… blaming me for the events of the past?”

“No, no, no. I wouldn’t dare, absolutely wouldn’t dare,” Miaoming replied with a brilliant smile, yet the absolute depths of her eyes still shimmered with a profound, unyielding resentment—a resentment that hadn’t waned a single fraction even after the passage of eight hundred long years. “You are the absolute Lord of Baijiang, after all. how could I possibly dare to blame you?”

Long Heng’s expression shifted rapidly through several distinct emotions, yet in the end, it merely dissolved into a heavy, helpless sigh. Just as he opened his mouth to say more, a solitary droplet of icy rain splattered directly against his face.

Miaoming froze in shock. Blast it, I completely forgot the weather forecast explicitly stated there would be heavy downpours today. Xiaoxi was still waiting for her precisely where she had left her.

Abandoning any further dialogue with Long Heng, Miaoming spun around and sprinted back toward the night market at her absolute maximum speed.

“Little girl, it is pouring heavily outside. Are you not heading home yet?” The owner of the balloon-dart stall inquired, looking at Xiaoxi, who was dressed rather lightly and seeking refuge from the rain beneath his canvas tent canopy.

“Uncle, I am still waiting for someone…” Xiaoxi replied softly.

“But I must close up my stall now…” The man cast a troubled look at Xiaoxi. While he genuinely desired to let this young girl remain beneath his shelter, this specific section of the street was a low-lying zone; once the rain accumulated, it would be far too late to dismantle his equipment.

Xiaoxi nodded understandingly, braving the torrential downpour as she sprinted toward the overhanging eaves of a nearby toy store.

Gazing out at the occasional pedestrians on the street who were being thoroughly drenched like drowned rats, Xiaoxi desperately hoped Miaoming would return swiftly.

“Achoo!”

Xiaoxi rubbed her small nose, tightening her embrace around the massive plush doll she had won. For some inexplicable reason, she felt a profound chill wash over her body. Her consciousness drifted, and she inadvertently fell fast asleep.

“Xiaoxi? Xiaoxi, how are you feeling?”

A voice seemed to be calling out to her from a great distance, accompanied by a hand gently shaking her form. Soon after, a somewhat cool palm pressed firmly against her forehead.

“How could this happen? She is burning up.”

Xiaoxi felt herself being lifted entirely into someone’s embrace, soaring through the air as though riding upon the clouds. Following that, she drifted back into a deep slumber.

“What on earth were you thinking?! You are a dragon who has lived for thousands of years, yet you lacked even this basic shred of foresight and preparation?!”

Yet another voice resonated sharply within her ears, sounding exceptionally furious. Roused by the commotion, Xiaoxi forced her heavy eyelids open with immense difficulty.

What greeted her vision was Miaoming standing with her head bowed low as she received a fierce scolding, juxtaposed against a thoroughly enraged, black-faced Hua Qianluo.

Xiaoxi’s head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache, and her entire body felt completely devoid of strength; she had clearly succumbed to a severe fever. Gazing upon the scene before her, her Mama Qianluo appeared absolutely incandescent with rage. Conversely, she had never once witnessed Sister Long look so thoroughly meek and submissive—completely lacking the courage to utter a single word of protest as she silently accepted her reprimand.

Could this perhaps be the absolute, crushing authority of a legendary Celestial Master? Xiaoxi mused silently within her mind.

Of course, if Miaoming were ever privy to the thoughts drifting through Xiaoxi’s mind, she would have instantly corrected her: ‘This is not the authority of a Celestial Master, this is the absolute, crushing authority of a mother-in-law…’

Xiaoxi parted her lips, wanting to offer a few words of explanation on Miaoming’s behalf. However, in her thoroughly weakened state, she simply couldn’t manufacture any audible sound.

Qianluo instantly noticed that Xiaoxi had roused from her slumber.

“I am so sorry, Xiaoxi. Did we wake you?” Qianluo sat upon the edge of the bed, her features softening into an expression of profound heartache. It was only at this moment that Xiaoxi realized she wasn’t back at the flower shop, but rather lying within a hospital room.

Miaoming instinctively wanted to edge closer to the bed, but a single, murderous glare from Qianluo instantly drove her back. After a few seconds of tense hesitation, she obediently retracted her foot. She absolutely did not dare to further antagonize her mother-in-law at a critical juncture like this.

Xiaoxi signaled with her eyes, desperately trying to convey that her falling ill had absolutely nothing to do with Miaoming. Having coexisted with Qianluo for so many years, she fully trusted that the older woman could seamlessly decipher her non-verbal cues.

Yet, Qianluo flatly refused to buy into it. Witnessing how Xiaoxi was already sick to such a pathetic state yet still stubbornly pleading on Miaoming’s behalf, the fury burning within her chest instantly surged to a whole new level.

“Go back to sleep for a bit, Xiaoxi…” Qianluo said, casting an incredibly dangerous look toward Miaoming. “Your Sister Long and I merely have a few remaining topics that require a far more thorough discussion.”