Chapter 28

Chapter 28: One Problem After Another (Part 3)

Disguised in women’s clothes, Song Wei Chen walked through Dust Warden Manor with a calm, gentle air.

She wore pale moon-white gauze, black hair half-pinned with a jade hairpin and trailing to her waist. She looked so clean and lovely that people passing by couldn’t help glancing twice.

She didn’t notice any of it.

All she could think was how clever she was. “Song Wei Chen, you’re a genius.”

Of course. Take off White Robe, and no one recognized you.

And besides—Cold-Faced Yama said Venerable wasn’t allowed to run around. He didn’t say Song Wei Chen wasn’t.

She clung to that flimsy excuse, ready to use it as a shield if Mo Ting Feng got angry later.

She slipped out of Dust Warden Manor. Water Street was nowhere near as lively in daylight—the street stalls were mostly gone—but the shops along both sides were open.

She wandered from store to store, perfectly entertained.

“Miss, what would you like?” a tailor shop owner asked.

“I’m just looking.”

The moment she realized he was speaking to her—and not bowing because he recognized White Robe—Song Wei Chen was so happy she could have crowed. Being famous sounded exhausting. Being unknown felt amazing.

She drifted like that until noon. Then her stomach went light and her limbs went weak.

No money, and she still wasn’t fully recovered.

She should go back—fast. If that Cold-Faced Yama had returned and couldn’t find her, she’d be finished.

She turned sharply—

—and a green-faced, fanged ghost mask filled her vision.

Song Wei Chen shrieked and shoved hard.

The mask flew off and hit the ground with a clatter. The paper bag in the man’s hand dropped too, spilling fat roasted chestnuts that rolled everywhere.

“Oh no—I’m sorry!”

She crouched and hurriedly gathered the chestnuts back into the bag.

The man picked up his mask. She didn’t recognize it at all. It was the same Nuo opera mask she’d worn last night.

“No harm done,” he said, voice warm. “I was careless. Are you hurt, Miss?”

A hand reached down, fingers long and clean, offering to pull her up.

Song Wei Chen saw it—and refused it.

In this world, men and women didn’t casually touch. She braced a hand on her knee and stood by herself.

The moment she straightened, her vision flashed black.

Her feet went soft. The man caught her, pulling her against him.

She’d refused his hand, only to end up in his arms. The chestnuts spilled all over again.

If she could have opened her eyes, she’d have seen the slight curl at the corner of his mouth, like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

“Sorry…” Song Wei Chen whispered, eyes squeezed shut as she rode out the dizziness.

This looked terrible. Like she was putting on a helpless act on purpose. Like she was trying to scam him.

She was mortified.

Then she felt herself lift—his arms scooping her up in a bridal carry.

Song Wei Chen forced her eyes half open, alarm snapping through the fog. “What are you doing? Put me down!”