Ignoring the commotion between the two, Qing Heng focuses on observing the city around them. At night, Wu Xiang City is bustling with activity, with stalls, merchants, and lively inns that stay open all night. 

The auction they’re here for is held at the most luxurious inn in the city, marked by a sign outside the door. 

The auction start time is displayed on the sign, delayed by several days, set to begin seven days later at midnight.

Qing Heng picks a nearby inn for them to stay, located near a school and decorated with more lanterns than any other place.

Ming Qiao, who loves lanterns, is thrilled with the choice. As they check in, Ming Qiao, sitting on Wu Ye’s arm, puffs out his cheeks in displeasure, ignoring Wu Ye.

“Two rooms.” says Qing Heng, paying with a few high-quality spirit stones.

The innkeeper accepts the stones and hands them two room tokens. One is marked “444” and the other “000”.

“These are the only rooms left.” 

The innkeeper says slowly: “Rooms fill up fast around here.”

The Wu Xiang City auction holds great allure. There are stories of wealthy mortals who won rare elixirs that granted them the ability to cultivate. And of elders who regained their youthful appearance after obtaining mystical herbs. 

Some, even in dire health, purchased miracle medicines and were able to live longer. The items at this auction are highly coveted by both mortals and cultivators alike.

Noticing the room numbers, Qing Heng stares at them for a few seconds, considering leaving for another inn. 

But before he can say anything, the innkeeper, as if reading his mind, adds: “Once you book a room here, no other inn in town will accommodate you.”

Wu Ye clicks his tongue. So, it seems the inns have all coordinated. With no other options, Wu Ye takes the room tokens, and they head upstairs. 

Wu Ye goes into the “444” room by himself, while Qing Heng takes Ming Qiao to room “000”. 

After checking out the rooms, they decide not to settle down just yet—they’ve only just arrived and still want to explore a bit. Ming Qiao is especially eager to get a small, red lantern.

Out in the bustling streets, Ming Qiao decides to walk by himself, holding Qing Heng’s hand. Wu Ye tries to hold his hand too, but only see the cub pouts and a firm refusal.

“Quite the temper.” Wu Ye mutters, following beside Qing Heng. 

“He must get this from that useless father of his.”

Qing Heng stays silent. He suspects that the little one’s father might just be the man beside him. And if so, it’s possible the little one really did inherit his temperament from Wu Ye himself. 

Contrary to his outward appearance, Qing Heng’s own temper isn’t as mild as most assume.

They pass by many market stalls selling a variety of items. Wu Ye spots a few stalls displaying bones, and he recognizes immediately that these are human bones.

Covering Ming Qiao’s eyes, Wu Ye guides him past these stalls, making sure he isn’t exposed to anything unsuitable.

Ming Qiao, not understanding why Wu Ye covers his eyes, huffs his little cheeks in frustration.

While browsing, Qing Heng and Wu Ye ask around about a man named Chun Sheng but find no information. Eventually, they come across a lantern stall where Ming Qiao spots the perfect lantern.

“This one is nice!” Ming Qiao says, pointing to a red lantern shaped like a round-headed fish. 

The fish lantern is too big for him to carry, so he hopes for a smaller version. In a soft voice, he asks the stall owner: “Uncle, do you have a smaller one?”

The stall owner, sitting behind the lantern display, hears Ming Qiao’s request and replies: “Alright, little one.”

“Sit for a bit, and I’ll make a small lantern for you.”

“Thank you, uncle!” Ming Qiao says, taking a seat on the small bench in front of the stall and wait patiently.

Seeing that it would take some time for the lantern to be ready, Wu Ye decides to let Qing Heng know he’s going to continue asking around for Chun Sheng. 

They also need to secure invitations to the auction, so they have plenty to do while in the city.

After Wu Ye leaves, only Qing Heng and Ming Qiao remain at the lantern stall. Ming Qiao holds onto Qing Heng’s fingers, watching the lantern-making process intently.

“Uncle, you make such beautiful lanterns!” He says.

“And you’re quite a beautiful little child yourself.” The stall owner responds.

Ming Qiao admires the lanterns on the stall more than once and notices small paper figures behind them. There is a row of little figures, some male and some female, all looking like cute dolls. 

Among them, there is a little paper figure with a bun hairstyle, rosy cheeks, and red lips, looking very festive. Ming Qiao can’t help but stare a little longer at this one.

As he watches, he suddenly feels as if this paper figure with the bun smiles at him with its red mouth.

Ming Qiao’s happy expression drops instantly. “U-uncle…” 

Ming Qiao grabs his mother’s finger, nervously telling the stall owner: “One of the figures… it looks like it can smile.”

The stall owner, focused on making a lantern, doesn’t even raise his head. He just responds calmly: “Oh.”

Hearing this indifferent “oh” makes Ming Qiao’s little face even more horrified. He quickly jumps up from the bench and, in the lantern light, notices something alarming—the stall owner doesn’t cast a shadow.

“Mother, mother…”

His little chubby legs start trembling in fear, and he can barely stand. Qing Heng bends down and picks him up. Just then, the stall owner finishes the little lantern. “Here, one spirit stone.” 

He hands over the small lantern, and as he does, Ming Qiao sees the stall owner’s face—pale, as if heavily powdered. Ming Qiao freezes, unable to reach out.

Qing Heng, unfazed, pays for the lantern and thanks the stall owner politely before they leave the stall.

Holding onto Qing Heng’s neck, Ming Qiao’s round, dark eyes begin to fill with tears. “Mom, Qiao Qiao is scared.”

“There’s no need to be afraid. I’m right here.” Qing Heng reassures him, though it doesn’t quite soothe the frightened little cub.

Clinging tightly to his mother, Ming Qiao glances around, looking for Wu Ye, who hasn’t returned yet. He sniffles and pleads, “Mom, can you bring daddy back?”

Now that Wu Ye isn’t around, Ming Qiao calls him “daddy” in front of Qing Heng.

Qing Heng holds the fathead fish lantern in one hand and Ming Qiao in the other, gently comforting him. Just then, Wu Ye returns without even needing to be summoned.

“Oh, I was only gone for a bit, and look—” Wu Ye’s sentence trails off as the little one reaches out with open arms, wanting to be held by him.

Surprised, Wu Ye pauses, then grins as he takes the child, pinching his chubby cheeks and lifting him high. Before long, the little one, who had been tearful with fright, is giggling again.

Seeing the little guy cheered up, Wu Ye, now free to talk, begins updating Qing Heng. “I picked up some clues. Let’s talk back at the inn.”

It’s about time for Ming Qiao to sleep as well. Qing Heng nods in agreement, and they head back together.

“There’s an old lord at the east end of the city named Chun Sheng. I got the address and will check it out later.” 

Wu Ye continues: “As for the invitation, the Red House’s proprietress has two of them on hand.”

Wu Ye’s search has turned up useful information quickly. Ming Qiao listens quietly, not interrupting the adults. 

After dinner and washing up, it’s time for bed, but the usually obedient little one suddenly becomes stubborn on the bed.

“No, don’t go.” Ming Qiao clings to Wu Ye with his chubby hands, not allowing him to leave. 

He pats the bed, assigning spots, “Mother on the right, Qiao Qiao in the middle, and you on the left.”

Wu Ye raises an eyebrow at the arrangement for the bed. The little one knows how to make arrangements! 

He wouldn’t mind this at all, but he suspects Qing Heng does. Qing Heng standing this close without pulling away is already a lot.

“I’ll be just in the next room, so rest assured. If anything happens in the night, just call out—I’ll come right over.” Wu Ye says, gently prying off the little hands and turning to leave.

He doesn’t get far before hearing sobs from the room. The sound stops him in his tracks.

“Dang it…” He mutters, grinding his teeth. This is ridiculous. Just some rogue man unworthy of Qing Heng…yet here he is, caring so much about Qing Heng and that other man’s child.

———————————————

Author’s Note:

Father now: That rogue should drop dead!

Father later: Turns out, the rogue was me all along!

Just a little jealousy for now—surprises are on the way!