The cultivator leaves in a hurry, vanishing back into the night far more quickly than he’d come. He doesn’t manage to leave unobserved however, and the one watching him has been keeping an eye on him throughout his entire stay, only really revealing his presence when the other had overstayed his welcome.

And now, now the masked Red Devil drops back into the inner courtyard, directing his gleaming red eyes towards the one standing there waiting.

“Well,” he says, baring slightly pointed teeth in a smile. “Such a golden opportunity, and my lovely Yue didn’t even try to run off.”

At this, there’s an obvious twitch.

“Demon Bastard,” Yue says. “I still haven’t agreed to become your anything.”

The Red Devil isn’t deterred though – far from it, as a matter of fact.

“Well,” he says. “That just means I have to work harder, doesn’t it? Besides, by Demon Realm standards, we’re already⸺”

He reaches out, quickly capturing the young cultivator’s face in-between his hands, and smiles at the defiance in the eyes staring back at him. It’s a decidedly cold look, but it’s no real deterrent, much like the words that soon follow.

“I still haven’t agreed to become your anything, Youming Jun.”

“I suppose.” Youming Jun smiles, letting go and taking a step back before offering his hand. “But you haven’t decided not to become mine either though, have you?”

Yue moves to swat the hand away, which in turn elicits a laugh. Then, the demon reaches further, catching him by the waist and pulling him into his arms.

“Bastard,” Yue snaps, flailing and kicking. “I should kill you.”

Youming Jun is not fazed however. Rather, he laughs, tightening his grip.

“Yue-shixiong is more than welcome to try,” he hums. “But you should wait until after. I mean, haven’t I already been of great use to you?”

There’s a scoff, but resignation soon follows as Yue ceases his struggling and instead presses his forehead up against the side of Youming Jun’s throat.

“You’ll help me with my revenge,” he says. “After that, we’ll see.”

“That’s right,” Youming Jun says. “Revenge first. Then marriage.”

“I thought you said we were already married.”

Youming Jun laughs.

 

---

 

“Back already, Peak Lord Jiao?”

Jiao Ziyu smiled, but his smile took on a decidedly strained age as more and more disciples greeted him, a significant number of them expressing their surprise at seeing him return so soon. It wasn’t particularly meanspirited though – in most cases, that is.

Because while Jiao Ziyu was well aware of his habits and how said habits were perceived by the broader population of the Green Jade Peaks, it was still more than just a tiny bit rude of them to actually display this attitude so openly.

Besides, even if a number of Jiao Ziyu’s activities were secret, the Windward Sect had secrets and then it had Secrets, and one was decidedly more closely guarded than the other. As such, it was only reasonable to assume that there were some that either knew or strongly suspected the true nature of some of Jiao Ziyu’s activities – this didn’t stop them from dragging his good name in the dirt however.

Then, of course, there were Jiao Ziyu’s two head disciples: Little Yi and Little Yu, who obviously knew a fair bit about his activities even without being officially briefed. Jiao Ziyu had picked the two of them for a reason after all – and above all for their keen ability to read in-between the lines.

As such, both of them – Yi Yixuan and Yu Xiyu – obviously knew about Jiao Ziyu’s position as the Windward Sect’s spymaster, and were thus also painfully aware of the fact that one of them would inherit it the moment that Jiao Ziyu retired, died, or faked his own death to escape the paperwork.

Little Yi and Little Yu might’ve thought they’d been quite subtle about it, but Jiao Ziyu had overheard them arguing quite heatedly about it at one point before they’d eventually agreed that when the time came, they would simply draw lots and hope for the best.

They would undoubtedly attempt to cheat though, because that was just how they were, and that was also part of the reason as to why they were Jiao Ziyu’s disciples as opposed to someone else’s. Speaking of disciples though⸺

Jiao Ziyu thought back at the youngster, the so-called ‘Little Hermit’. Then he quickened his step, intent on finding Mingyue as soon as possible.

 

---

 

In truth, Jiao Ziyu should’ve probably dropped by the Sect Leader to make his report – or at the very least sent him a message. But by the time he realised as much, Jiao Ziyu was already standing outside of Peak Lord Bai’s residence – and a sudden sense of urgency had him pushing open the screen door without the least of care for propriety, and if Mingyue wanted to kill him, then he could kill him later, because Jiao Ziyu was there to bring him important news.

“Mingyue,” he said, greeting his fellow Peak Lord. “I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some bad news.”

Bai Mingyue didn’t look up from his scrolls – not immediately, at any rate.

“What?” he finally said, still not giving Jiao Ziyu the attention that he was truly owed.

Well, in the end, that mattered little. Because if the attention wasn’t freely given, then Jiao Ziyu would simply have to commandeer it. And frankly, there was one very simple way of doing so.

“There,” he said, depositing the small bags containing his latest haul. “That one contains some Diānqié berries and that other one contains some Wūtóu flowers. I was advised to take a bit of both.”

“Advised?” Mingyue repeated.

“Yes,” Jiao Ziyu said. “I ended up having an absolutely delightful conversation about poisons with some youngster out in Wú Jiǔ City. The city doesn’t really live up to the name by the way, because there was plenty of alcohol over there, and there was a fair number of people drinking it too.”

Tacking on that last part might’ve been unnecessary. It ultimately served a purpose though, giving Jiao Ziyu additional time to study Mingyue’s reaction. It was a good thing that he did so too, because otherwise, he would’ve undoubtedly missed out on the glint in the other’s eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Jiao Ziyu nodded, quite eager to tell him everything while at the same time wanting to draw it out and savour it. Because it wasn’t often that Mingyue paid much attention to the words coming out of his mouth; they were typically ignored, actually. “I didn’t get a name, unfortunately. But the people around the area seem to refer to him as the ‘Good Doctor’ or the ‘Little Hermit’. Suitable enough, I suppose, because he was rather young.”

“How young?” Mingyue asked, dipping his brush back into the ink.

Jiao Ziyu hummed. “It was pretty dark, but... late teens to early twenties? He was rather interesting though, in many ways. You see, I wasn’t there prancing around in sect attire or anything, but he correctly identified me as someone belonging to the Windward Sect. I mean, yeah, I did technically give him my name, but I’m not particularly known outside of the sect. Yet, this little guy claimed that he’d made the guess based on my general demeanour and my accent of all things. He also correctly assumed that I wasn’t wearing any elaborate disguise, which means that he’s either been trained to spot such things or that he already knew what I look like. Pretty interesting, right? And, what’s more, he himself claimed to be from around here. You remember that forest we went to before? That general area.”

Mingyue’s hand stilled. His grip on the brush tightened considerably. “Hoh?”

Jiao Ziyu nodded enthusiastically. “We had a pretty interesting conversation about how much Diānqié would be needed in order to treat Wūtóu poisoning, and you know what he said? That depends, not enough data! Like, what does that even⸺?”

The brush in Mingyue’s hand snapped.

“Data?” he repeated, and somehow managed to pronounce the foreign word exactly the same way as that youngster back then, and Jiao Ziyu nodded, minutely stunned into silence by the cold fury suddenly emanating from his old friend.

Then Mingyue threw the broken writing tool at him, and Jiao Ziyu dodged both the broken brush and the flying droplets of ink. He didn’t manage to avoid them entirely however, much too horrified by what he saw the other do.

“Mingyue!” he shouted, because Bai Mingyue had just taken one of the bags and popped one of the berries into his mouth. Granted, one berry shouldn’t have been enough to kill him, and Jiao Ziyu had obtained those berries for his consumption anyways, but⸺ “What are you doing?!"

Mingyue snorted, biting down on the berry. Then he formed his hands into a sign. He was circulating his qi.

For several minutes, Jiao Ziyu could only hover about anxiously, wondering if he should perhaps summon help. He never got around to it though, because soon, Mingyue stood, shrugging off his ink-stained outer robe in favour of donning a clean replacement after cleaning his hands with great efficiency. He also snatched up the two bags, stuffing them into his spatial ring.

Then he grabbed his sword – Hánlěng, a fine but very sparingly used spiritual artefact that previous Peak Lord Bai had bestowed upon him – and only then, he turned his cold yet simultaneously burning gaze towards Jiao Ziyu.

“Lead the way,” he growled – like actually growled. Jiao Ziyu had never heard him make such a sound before, despite having been with him for so long.

The thought of refusing didn’t even cross his mind.

“Yes!”

 

---

 

Of course, as things would have it, there was a complication. Because as they stepped outside, Jiao Ziyu spotted the approach of the Sect Leader, accompanied by Peak Lord Cheng. And although Jiao Ziyu held no particularly warm feelings about the latter, he lit a candle for them both in his heart. Because he knew that the way Mingyue was now, there would be no stopping him.

Apparently, another also realised this as the distance shrank, allowing them to feel the physical coldness radiating from Mingyue’s fury. Sect Leader Yeguang took one look and then – showing no outward signs of fear – calmly stepped to the side to allow him passage, dragging the perplexed Cheng Kong with him.

The Sect Leader did give Jiao Ziyu a look though, no doubt noticing the uncharacteristically wide-eyed look in his eyes.

An unspoken ‘What did you do?’ hung in the air.