Both were young, hot-blooded men, their bodies pressed so close together that it was only natural for some reactions to stir.

Zhou Jiayu’s mind was a bit chaotic. He didn’t mind taking things further with Lin Zhushui at that moment. In fact, ever since the day they confirmed their romantic relationship, Zhou Jiayu had secretly been anticipating something in his heart.

Lin Zhushui also sensed Zhou Jiayu’s arousal. His breathing grew heavier, yet he gently spoke, nibbling on Zhou Jiayu’s ear and whispering softly, “Not today.”

“Why not?” Zhou Jiayu blurted out. He lowered his head, pressing it against Lin Zhushui’s chest, and said, “I want to be with you, sir…”

Everyone knew what “being together” implied.

“We’re not prepared. You’d get hurt,” Lin Zhushui said, biting Zhou Jiayu’s earlobe. “I don’t want to be careless with you.”

A tingling sensation spread from Zhou Jiayu’s ear. He felt Lin Zhushui’s sincere intentions, and… something pressing against his thigh.

“Alright,” Zhou Jiayu said, his earlier boldness having taken all his courage. Deflated, he added, “You’re right, sir.”

He was about to roll over and take a cold shower to calm himself down when Lin Zhushui grabbed his arm.

“But we can use our hands,” Lin Zhushui whispered. “Let me help you…”

Seeing Lin Zhushui’s aroused expression, Zhou Jiayu’s mind exploded.

That day, both Lin Zhushui and Zhou Jiayu missed breakfast.

Lin Jue was beaming, looking like a proud mother whose son and daughter-in-law had finally consummated their relationship. Shen Yiqiong, on the other hand, wore a pained expression, once again agonizing over when he’d find love himself. The others seemed dazed, finding it surreal that someone as lofty as Lin Zhushui was in such a down-to-earth romance.

At noon, Zhou Jiayu and Lin Zhushui finally appeared before everyone. Anyone with a bit of experience could tell what they’d been up to.

Zhou Jiayu’s lips were slightly swollen, and a trail of red marks lined the base of his ears. His expression was dazed as Lin Jue pulled him to her side.

“Guan’er,” Lin Jue called softly.

“Shibo?” Zhou Jiayu was startled by her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Lin Jue asked, “Can you sit on the chair?”

Puzzled, Zhou Jiayu replied, “Why wouldn’t I be able to?” He plopped down next to her, his movements natural and unstrained.

Seeing this, Lin Jue’s face filled with disbelief. “Could it be that Zhushui…”

She stopped mid-sentence as Lin Zhushui sat down across from her, raising his chin coldly. “Lin Jue, what kind of filthy thoughts are in that head of yours?”

Lin Jue: “…” She suddenly wanted to light a cigarette to calm down.

Judging by their postures, it was clear they hadn’t gone all the way. Otherwise, their movements wouldn’t be so unaffected. After all, both were novices, and their technique was bound to have flaws.

“Sigh,” Lin Jue let out a long sigh after realizing this, lamenting when she’d ever get to give out her red eggs.

Lin Zhushui raised an eyebrow. “You should worry about yourself instead.”

Lin Jue silently lit a cigarette.

After resolving the issue with the bone house, the group planned to return home. They had gathered significant information this time, including details about the mysterious cloaked man. With a photo of his family, it wouldn’t take much effort to uncover his background.

Lin Jue and Lin Zhushui were both invested in this matter. Once back home, they began digging for clues to identify the cloaked man as soon as possible.

But before the cloaked man’s issue could be resolved, Lin Jue encountered new trouble.

One morning, the gatekeeper let in a tall man. He was strikingly handsome, with the classic beauty of an ancient scholar. Though his hair was short and neat, he exuded an air of timeless, heavy history.

The moment Zhou Jiayu saw him, he had a faint guess about his identity. A subtle purple aura surrounded the man, the same kind Zhou Jiayu had only seen on the little golden dragon at Qixing Hill.

Lin Jue, dressed in pajamas with her bangs pushed back, was happily playing mahjong when the man arrived. The yellow weasel, who had been dominating the game, suddenly leaped off its chair and fled in terror, clearly wary of the man.

Confused, Lin Jue turned to look behind her and saw the man standing at the door.

“Who are you?” Though she didn’t recognize him, Lin Jue’s sharp instincts sensed trouble. She stood slowly. “What do you want?”

“Lin Jue,” the man said, walking forward and extending his hand. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Lin Jue hesitated but shook his hand, only to regret it instantly when she saw the subtle smile on his face. “I’m here to take something back.”

“What thing…?” Lin Jue asked.

The man leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “My reverse scale.”

Lin Jue’s forced smile froze. She instantly realized who he was and yelped, trying to back away, but the man held her hand firmly.

“Hm?” he said. “Are you trying to dodge your debt?”

Lin Jue stammered, looking around helplessly before saying, “Sorry, the reverse scale is gone. I don’t know where it went…”

The man replied, “Then what do we do?”

Lin Jue’s expression turned dejected. “What do you want to do…?”

The man gave a soft hum, tilting his chin up. “You’ll compensate me.”

Lin Jue’s lips trembled as she gave a bitter smile. “I’d love to, but I can’t find anything in this world worthy of compensating for a reverse scale.”

“No matter,” the man said. “I’ve found something.”

As the two were entangled in their conversation, Zhou Jiayu hurried outside to call Lin Zhushui, saying, “Sir, something’s wrong! A creditor’s come for Lin Jue!”

Lin Zhushui’s response was calm, almost indifferent. “Leave her be. She brought this on herself.”

“But it’s a dragon!” Zhou Jiayu said. “What if she angers it…?”

Lin Zhushui replied, “What’s the worst that could happen? A big rain?”

As soon as he said that, thunder rumbled, and the clear sky was suddenly covered with thick, dark clouds. Zhou Jiayu stared at the sky, stunned. “It’s really raining.” Had the little golden dragon been provoked again? He didn’t know what was happening inside. When he hung up and returned, he saw Lin Jue sitting on the sofa, guiltily smoking, while the golden dragon sat across from her, expressionless.

Zhou Jiayu thought to himself that if his master weren’t a woman, he’d half expect the visitor to be a dragon holding a three-year-old child…

“Lin Zhushui agreed to let me stay here,” the little golden dragon said. “You have no right to interfere.”

Lin Jue shot up. “I’m going to argue with him. You’re not staying here!” She stormed out, presumably to confront Lin Zhushui.

This left Zhou Jiayu and the little golden dragon staring at each other. Little Paper peeked out from behind the sofa, seemingly intimidated by the dragon’s aura.

In the end, Lin Jue’s protests failed. Lin Zhushui simply told her, “If you can find another dragon willing to stay here, I’ll reject him.”

Lin Jue was speechless. In this day and age, supernatural creatures were dwindling, and dragons were practically mythical. Where was she supposed to find another one?

“So,” Lin Zhushui declared, sealing the matter, “accept your fate.”

Lin Jue wailed, lamenting her younger self. If she hadn’t taken that reverse scale, she wouldn’t be in debt today.

Lin Zhushui listened quietly to her theatrics, then waved her off when she was done crying.

Thus, a new member joined their household. Several large water tanks were added to the courtyard, serving as the golden dragon’s residence. Zhou Jiayu initially worried about changing the water daily, but upon closer inspection, he found the tanks had become living water, rippling as if fed by a spring.

Zhou Jiayu was amazed.

It was said that dragon aura was beneficial to health, curing ailments and promoting vitality. No wonder Lin Zhushui had so readily agreed to let the dragon stay—who would refuse such a rare opportunity?

The yellow weasel was initially terrified of the dragon but gradually overcame its instinctual fear when it realized the dragon bore no ill will. It resumed playing mahjong. Little Paper was curious about the dragon, secretly observing from the sidelines. Zhou Jiayu suspected that once the dragon grew comfortable with them, Little Paper would eagerly try to tug at its hair.

Everyone was thrilled about the dragon’s arrival—everyone except Lin Jue, of course. Her smoking habit spiked, and the lines on her forehead mysteriously deepened.

Shen Yiqiong, as oblivious as ever, didn’t recognize the dragon’s true nature at first. He even invited it to play mahjong. It wasn’t until the tanks arrived in the courtyard that he vaguely realized, “What are these tanks for? Pickling vegetables?”

Then he saw the man they’d been playing mahjong with transform into a dragon and settle into a tank at night.

Shen Yiqiong was so shocked he spent days muttering to himself about playing mahjong with a dragon.

Zhou Jiayu found it both hilarious and endearing.

But the group’s adaptability was strong. Within two weeks, they’d fully accepted the dragon’s presence. Zhou Jiayu even asked about its food preferences when cooking.

As for the cloaked man they’d been investigating, there was finally a breakthrough.

“It’s someone from the Meng family,” Lin Zhushui said after reviewing the information. “The Meng family from Nancheng.”

“The Meng family of Nancheng?” Although Zhou Jiayu wasn’t familiar with the affairs of these feng shui families, Shen Yiqiong and the others had heard of them. “Didn’t their entire clan perish in an incident? How could there still be someone left?”

“The Meng family is a unique feng shui clan,” Lin Zhushui explained, likely for Zhou Jiayu’s benefit. “Their entire clan worships fire and lives by it.”

“Lives by fire?” Zhou Jiayu didn’t quite understand. He could picture living by water—perhaps near a river—but what did living by fire mean?

“Volcanoes,” Lin Jue said, tapping the table. “Their whole clan lives near a volcanic range in the Northeast, I believe. Fourteen active volcanoes connected in a chain, and they settled there.”

Zhou Jiayu was stunned, thinking how these people were bolder than most, living by volcanoes without fear of disaster.

“That volcanic range erupted over forty years ago, at its most intense,” Shen Yiqiong added, sharing what he knew about the Meng family’s history. “It’s a famous story in the feng shui world. An entire clan, wiped out just like that. You can avoid man-made disasters, but natural ones? There’s truly no way to escape.”

It was said that the Meng family was powerful back then, with significant influence in both the feng shui and secular worlds. Their clan members were imbued with strong yang energy, making them nearly invincible against yin-based malevolent entities.

Yet, this prominent family was inexplicably annihilated by a sudden volcanic eruption.

“Doesn’t a volcanic eruption come with strong warning signs?” Zhou Jiayu found it hard to believe. “How could it erupt so suddenly, and the Meng family had no reaction at all?”

“Some things are hard to explain,” Lin Jue sighed. “Like the Xu family… sometimes, things happen beyond our understanding.”

At the mention of the Xu family, the room’s atmosphere grew heavy. Zhou Jiayu gently stroked Little Paper, who lay silently in his arms, and let out a soft sigh.

“The Meng family’s fire-worshipping ritual was critical, requiring all direct descendants to attend,” Lin Jue continued. “Because of this, the clan was nearly wiped out. Only some outer branch members, who had no access to the core techniques, survived. After the incident, the entire clan vanished from the scene, and in recent years, their name has completely faded.”

“This person is from the Meng family?” Zhou Jiayu looked at the photo Lin Zhushui had placed on the table.

In the photo, three people beamed with bright smiles—parents and a child, seemingly happy. But perhaps due to Zhou Jiayu’s imagination, those smiles, though radiant, felt unsettling. Especially the dark spots on the adults’ faces… they intensified the ominous feeling.

“There’s another theory,” Lin Jue said. “It’s said the Meng family acquired a powerful treasure. No one knows exactly what it was, but some claim it could glimpse the Heavenly Dao. That’s why the Heavenly Dao destroyed them.”

Listening to the Meng family’s story, Zhou Jiayu felt a heavy weight in his heart. People often say humans can conquer nature, but when the Heavenly Dao wants you dead, survival seems impossible.

“I’ve heard that rumor too,” Shen Musi added. “And there’s evidence to support it.”

“What evidence?” Lin Jue’s interest piqued.

Shen Musi explained, “Although the Meng family held annual fire-worshipping rituals, they didn’t strictly require all direct descendants to attend. Some might have urgent matters keeping them away. But over forty years ago, for that particular ritual, the Meng family sent word to all direct descendants, stating that failure to attend would result in their names being struck from the family registry.”

“Struck from the registry? The ritual was important, but that’s excessively harsh,” Lin Jue analyzed. “Unless they had something else planned besides the ritual?”

Perhaps the entire clan was gathered to discuss a matter of utmost importance—something tied to the treasure they’d acquired.

“So, during that fire-worshipping ritual, every Meng family member returned,” Shen Musi said. “The direct descendants, by all accounts, were completely wiped out.”

“Then who’s in the photo?” Zhou Jiayu asked, confused.

“He’s a Meng family member,” Lin Zhushui said. “But he was disowned.”

This revelation stunned everyone.

“The man in the photo is the third son of the Meng family patriarch. He had a strained relationship with the family because they disapproved of the woman he loved. His father, the patriarch, even threatened to erase his name from the family registry if he stayed with her,” Lin Zhushui said calmly, recounting the past. “It caused quite a stir back then, though it was later suppressed. Not many know the details, but some do.”

“So he chose the woman?” The photo of the couple and their child explained everything. Zhou Jiayu realized, “After being disowned, he didn’t attend the ritual and escaped the disaster?”

Lin Zhushui nodded.

“That’s how it happened…” Zhou Jiayu couldn’t help but think of Xu Jinghuo, one of the few survivors of his own clan’s destruction. Surely, he shared some common ground with this Meng family outcast.

“There’s information suggesting the third son died over twenty years ago, his remains buried in the Meng family’s ancestral graveyard,” Lin Zhushui said. “But before his death, he and his wife had a son. That son’s whereabouts are a mystery, but it seems likely he’s the cloaked man connected to Xu Jinghuo.”

“I see,” Lin Jue sighed deeply. “Another tragic tale… But why is he inciting Xu Jinghuo to do those things? Could he be trying to revive the Meng family?”

Based on the information, Zhou Jiayu thought this theory was plausible.

“I’m planning to visit the Meng family’s ancestral graveyard,” Lin Zhushui said suddenly. “I need to confirm some things.”

Lin Jue opened her mouth. “But when the Meng family was destroyed, wasn’t their graveyard also affected? Can you even find the site now?”

“We can only pinpoint a general location. If the third son was buried there, some remnants of the graveyard should remain,” Lin Zhushui said, tapping his fingers on the table. “It’s time to settle this matter.”

Listening from the side, Zhou Jiayu felt an inexplicable unease.

That night, back in his bedroom, he took out the piece of kraft paper Xu Jinghuo had sent him. He studied it for a long time but couldn’t discern its mystery.

“What is this…?” Zhou Jiayu murmured, feeling lost. On a whim, he took out his phone and dialed the number written on the delivery slip. The phone rang over a dozen times with no answer, and just as Zhou Jiayu was about to give up, there was a click, and the call connected.

“Hello,” came Xu Jinghuo’s voice, tinged with faint exhaustion.

“Xu Jinghuo?” Zhou Jiayu was startled, not expecting the call to actually go through.

“Zhou Jiayu, is that you?” Xu Jinghuo recognized his voice. “Where did you get my number?”

Zhou Jiayu answered honestly, “You wrote it on the delivery slip.”

Xu Jinghuo: “…” After three seconds of silence, he cursed angrily, “That idiot actually wrote my number down!”

Zhou Jiayu couldn’t help but laugh. “So you didn’t send the package yourself?”

Xu Jinghuo: “Where I’m staying, how could I send a package—” He cut himself off and changed the subject. “Why are you calling?”

“I want to know what the kraft paper is for,” Zhou Jiayu said, holding the paper. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed like ordinary kraft paper, with nothing special about it except that Xu Jinghuo had sent it.

“Drip your blood on it,” Xu Jinghuo said softly. “You’ll see the future you care about most.”

Zhou Jiayu’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean…?”

“Yes, I saw it too,” Xu Jinghuo said. “I saw what matters most to me…” His voice trailed off, as if drained of energy. “The future of the Xu family.”

Zhou Jiayu’s emotions were complex. “Why did you give this to me?”

But Xu Jinghuo didn’t answer. He hung up abruptly.

Listening to the busy tone, Zhou Jiayu’s palms grew sweaty. The thin kraft paper now felt impossibly heavy in his hands.

Was there really something in the world that could show the future? Zhou Jiayu was skeptical, yet he knew Xu Jinghuo had no reason to lie.

Should he try it? With that thought, Zhou Jiayu stood, retrieved a needle from a drawer, pricked his finger, and smeared the blood onto the kraft paper.

The moment the blood touched the paper, a series of totems emerged on its surface, like ancient murals carved into walls, filled with abstract concepts. Even so, Zhou Jiayu noticed one totem in particular—a bird standing on a turtle’s shell.

The bird had black wings and three yellow feet, perched on the turtle’s back, seemingly singing toward the sun in the sky. Zhou Jiayu felt as if he’d been pulled into a strange place, floating in the air, surrounded by distorted, blurry images.

“Zhou Jiayu,” a voice called in his ear, unmistakable as Lin Zhushui’s.

“Zhou Jiayu,” Lin Zhushui said softly, “I love you.”

The scene around Zhou Jiayu turned red, the color coming from flames. In the blurry vision, Lin Zhushui stood before him, flames burning around him, then spreading to his body.

“No—” Zhou Jiayu felt as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss, his blood freezing. The scene grew clearer, and he saw Lin Zhushui standing amidst the flames.

“Zhou Jiayu,” Lin Zhushui’s voice remained gentle. “Forget me.” With that, he slowly turned away.

“Sir—Sir—” Zhou Jiayu screamed, stumbling forward, but he could never catch up to Lin Zhushui’s figure. “Sir—”

Screaming in anguish, Zhou Jiayu watched helplessly as Lin Zhushui’s silhouette vanished before him.

The vision froze, and in the next moment, Zhou Jiayu snapped back to reality. He found himself sitting dazedly on the edge of his bed, still holding the kraft paper.

A small pattern had appeared in the upper right corner of the paper, confirming that what he’d seen wasn’t a dream.

The pattern matched the Ji Ba totem in his mind almost exactly.

“Ji Ba,” Zhou Jiayu said hoarsely. “What… are you?”

__

Author’s Note: 

The main storyline is starting. Though the journey may be winding, the ending will surely be happy.