Chapter Thirty: Illusions

“Humans and demons are both living beings beneath the same heavens,” Yi An voiced his views. “Among humans, there are those who are wicked; among demons, there are those who are good. Only the most obstinate people insist on setting the two at odds, without considering other factors.”

“What a marvelous insight—there are wicked men and there are good demons. No wonder you’re known as Hangzhou’s foremost scholar. If only everyone could be as open-minded as you,” Shen Baiyu exclaimed in surprise.

In truth, her demon clan had not fared well in recent years. Whether it was the divine race or humankind, both had been pushing them to the margins.

A thousand years ago, the demons still boasted several great saints. Though the clan was fractured, they remained one of the most formidable races under the sky. Yet the Heavenly Court would never stand by and watch the demons grow in power. In the eyes of the Heavenly Emperor, the demon race had always been an unstable element—so it had been since ancient times.

Later, for reasons she did not fully understand, the demon saints united to mount a war against the heavens. The outcome, unsurprisingly, was swift suppression; the demon clan was crushed and fell into decline. Since then, they had become so feeble that now, no matter the cause, people sought to kill them at first sight.

Yi An cut off her flattery. “Enough with the pleasantries. Speak plainly—what is it you want from me?”

“Very well,” Shen Baiyu replied, nodding. “I sought you out only to confirm something. There’s no other motive—you need not worry.” She had simply found Yi An intriguing enough to exchange a few more words than usual.

“What is it you wish to confirm?”

Rather than explain, Shen Baiyu removed a vibrant, multicolored bracelet from her slender wrist.

“Give me your hand.”

Yi An complied. She grasped his hand and slipped the bracelet onto his arm.

They waited. Nothing happened. Yi An felt nothing out of the ordinary.

Shen Baiyu sighed, disappointment written across her face. “Just as I thought.”

“Who are you searching for?” Yi An asked, puzzled. It was clear this was not her first attempt.

The bracelet, he surmised, was a tool for identification.

“If you’re not the one, knowing any more will do you no good. Why insist on learning more?” Shen Baiyu said.

“If I’m not mistaken, your real reason for opening the Drunken Blossom Pavilion is to find someone, isn’t it?” Yi An inquired.

Shen Baiyu remained silent, tacitly acknowledging the truth.

“This can’t go on forever, you know. You’re aware that humans and demons walk different paths—if this continues, trouble is bound to follow,” Yi An hinted, trusting she would understand.

“You mean Wan’er, don’t you? Ah, it’s all ill-fated. That young man is deeply attached, and Wan’er is equally entangled. Love is the most complicated, the hardest to sever. All I can do is advise her—I could never bear to separate them by force. So long as they do not regret it in the end, that is enough.” Shen Baiyu’s view differed from Yi An’s. Her understanding led her neither to interfere nor to indulge; she simply explained the consequences and let Wan’er decide for herself.

“……”

“As for the others, have you ever heard of anyone in Hangzhou dying of depleted vital essence?” Shen Baiyu asked in return.

Yi An shook his head. He hadn’t investigated deliberately, but he trusted that Shen Baiyu would not deceive him on such a matter—news travels fast, and she was far too shrewd for such a crude lie.

“That’s because none of the other girls here have ever truly entertained guests. They’ve always relied on illusions…” Shen Baiyu explained, leaving Yi An startled. He had not thought such things possible.

“Have the guests never noticed?” he asked, curious.

In truth, illusions were little more than tricks of the mind, meant to sway ordinary people’s thoughts—like wandering lost in a maze. But for those with abundant yang energy, the magic could easily fail.

“You may not know, sir, but among the Silver Foxes, we may not excel at much else, but when it comes to illusions, we are unrivaled,” Shen Baiyu said, a trace of pride in her voice.

Yi An nodded thoughtfully. The fox clan’s mastery of illusion was renowned, though he knew little of the Silver Foxes specifically. They must be a powerful branch of the clan.

“We’ve spoken so long, yet I still don’t know who taught you. Do you hail from the Jade Dawn Monastery outside the city?” Shen Baiyu asked.

To her knowledge, the only true cultivator in the vicinity of Hangzhou was the venerable priest of Jade Dawn Monastery, a legitimate heir of the mystic tradition, who had already attained the stage of the wandering spirit. For Yi An to possess such deep foundations at his age, he must have had a remarkable teacher.

Her respectful manner stemmed in part from this consideration.

Yi An shook his head. “No, not quite. It was a matter of chance, really.” Unsure how to explain, he deflected the question.

Seeing his reluctance, Shen Baiyu did not press him—everyone has their secrets.

After a few more words, Yi An rose to take his leave. All in all, the visit had been worthwhile—at the very least, he had uncovered her origins.

As for how Shen Baiyu had noticed him, if he guessed correctly, he owed it to Miss Hong Ying. At the literary gathering, she had likely harbored the same intentions as Shen Baiyu. For reasons unknown, she had withdrawn from the encounter, leaving Shen Baiyu to approach him herself.

…

“Have you truly decided?”

A beam of radiant light shimmered, and a woman slowly took form—it was Wan’er.

“The scholar was right. If we continue like this, it can only end badly. In the end, I’ll only bring him harm.” Wan’er gave a sorrowful smile, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s for the best. Here, take this Vitality Pill and have him consume it,” Shen Baiyu said with a sigh, producing a small pellet.

“Thank you, madam.” Wan’er accepted the pill, a long-lost smile lighting her face. If Chen Qingwen took it, he might not recover at once, but it would surely restore some of his vitality.

As she watched Wan’er depart, Shen Baiyu could not help but—

…

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“The scholar was right. If we continue like this, it can only end badly. In the end, I’ll only bring him harm.” Wan’er gave a sorrowful smile, tears rolling down her cheeks.