The mortal world is an inescapable cycle of love, desire, life, and death. People project idealized images onto others, then willingly lose themselves in delusion—their giving is rooted in selfish fantasy, their demands and punishments like howling and thrashing against an empty wall. Humans long to regress into carefree children within relationships, chasing the blissful illusion of unity, as if fused with a mother's embrace. To fulfill this craving, they impose expectations on those around them—or lay poisonous traps.
Ming Xuan had long considered the human world tedious, largely because he saw through the so-called "connections" of the masses. No matter how fervent the pursuit of love, time's iron would eventually flatten it into monotony. Those who clung to delusion grew numb; those who saw truth felt neither joy nor sorrow.
Only by transcending time, by surpassing the petty self, could something pure and eternal—true love—exist.
Would even such a thing eventually crumble into nothingness?He gazed down the road where Shuiqian had long vanished.
Though she had left without farewell, she had left behind a portion of her travel funds and freshly gathered vegetables for stew on the table. A folded map of Liuzhou lay pinned beneath a white stone at the corner.
Ming Xuan searched it twice. Shuiqian had left no way to contact her.
He did not yet know this would become the central question of his demonic life.
Packing his belongings, he expended a surge of magic to weave protective wards around the cottage. The next day, he too departed, crafting an identity card in the manner of human travelers.
Under "Name", he wrote boldly: "Bai Changming", styled "Ye Sha".
This card would accompany him to the "Astral Pavilion".
**Yang Renzhu**
As the stars wheeled, the human calendar turned to the "Orchid Nobility Festival"—Liuzhou's traditional spring celebration to welcome "Gou Mang", the God of Spring. Families gathered to paint his likeness, adorned with willow motifs and swallow-like grace, then feasted around hearths with kin. The imperial court granted officials a half-month holiday.
Yang Renzhu, the Provincial Governor, had long buried his parents. His children lived far away. As usual, he invited friends—mostly fellow officials—to a banquet at Liuzhou's famed **Moonview Pavilion**, scheduled for the evening of **Wuchou Month, Renyin Day**.
Meanwhile, the "Muan Prefecture" issued an employment document dated "Wuchou Month, Guiwei Day", for one Bai Changming, assigned to handle odd jobs at the Astral Pavilion. Three days remained until the banquet.
Bai Changming counted the silver in his pouch. Bribing Zheng Guan, Yang Renzhu's steward, had cost him dearly. Had he not exhausted his magic days earlier, he would've forged the papers and slipped them into Zheng's registry unnoticed.
The Astral Pavilion was now complete. As part of the first cleaning crew, Bai Changming dawdled deliberately until closing, ensuring he was "accidentally" locked inside.
Rumor said Yang Renzhu had spent fortunes building this pavilion to indulge his passion for stargazing.
"What's so fascinating about stars?"
"He's the Governor. One order, and we sweat to make it happen. Such is fate."
"Zheng Guan acts all dignified, but he's just a glorified servant."
"Hush! The pavilion's new—old man Zheng might inspect any day."
The workers whispered; Bai Changming remained silent, his expression unreadable as he worked.
At last, night fell. The Astral Pavilion sank into darkness.
Only then did Bai Changming emerge from behind a porcelain vase, pacing the halls with measured steps.
As expected, Yang Renzhu was obsessed with astrology. The shelves brimmed with rare star charts and manuscripts, some older than Ming Xuan himself. He skimmed the most worn volumes—those clearly studied often.
Margins were crammed with notes. With his night-seeing eyes, Bai Changming deciphered them. Decades of studying esoteric arts let him gauge Yang Renzhu's knowledge level from dates and annotations alone.
The three-story pavilion housed calligraphy and jade curios on the first two floors. Unlike feminine hairpins, Yang's collection favored grandiose carvings, unrelated to "astral" themes.
Then came the third floor.
Earlier, a servant had muttered that Governor Yang forbade entry here—violators faced severe punishment.
*Did he build himself a private utopia?* Ming Xuan mused, climbing steadily.
The moment he stepped in, stars flooded his vision: the Black Tortoise, the Vermilion Bird, constellations scattered like old friends. For an instant, he was back in **Saher City's** summer nights, gazing at the same distant cosmos with long-lost companions.