Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Cat-and-Mouse Game (Part 1)

“You’re right,” Mo Ting Feng said, calm as if nothing had happened. “There’s no evidence you’re connected to my companion’s disappearance. You can go.”

“Huh?” Song Wei Chen blinked, thrown. This Dust Warden official’s brain took turns like a roller coaster.

“You’re really letting me go?” Her voice came out cautious despite herself.

Mo Ting Feng didn’t answer. He simply stepped aside, sat down, and picked up the book on the table.

Song Wei Chen didn’t wait to be told twice. She bolted for the door. When she reached the spot where she’d hit the invisible wall before, she hesitated, then reached out slowly. Only when she confirmed the barrier was gone did she step through.

Mo Ting Feng kept reading, unbothered.

It was a test. He wanted to see where she went, what she did next—if her movements would reveal even a thread connected to the White Robe’s disappearance.

He had already considered another possibility: that her appearance and all these “coincidences” were part of someone’s deliberate trap.

If so, letting her go would likely be outside the schemer’s expectations.

He might as well see how they played their next card.

But at the threshold, Song Wei Chen slowed… then stopped.

If he truly let her leave, she was suddenly at a loss. Where could she go? This place was completely foreign. The only person she could claim to know was him.

She didn’t dare imagine what lay outside. The moment she thought of that endless-loop forest, her warped, distorted legs, and that pitch-black water like oil, dread crawled over her skin. She didn’t know if there were monsters out there. Compared to that, this man—moody and vicious as he could be—was at least human.

“I…” she stammered. “Can I stay? I really don’t know where to go…”

Mo Ting Feng curled his mouth. As expected—tell her to leave, and she refuses to go. Suspicious.

“The Dust Warden Manor doesn’t feed freeloaders,” he said coolly. “If you want to stay, you need to prove your worth.”

Song Wei Chen choked.

By ancient standards, she was supposed to offer to stay as a maid—wash clothes, cook meals, clean floors.

But she—

Could—

Not.

She cooked so badly even a dog wouldn’t touch it. When she tried to clean, she somehow made the house messier and ended up paying extra for the cleaning service to stay longer. The sheer uselessness of herself hit her like a slap.

She picked at her fingers, struggling. “I’m not good at cooking or washing clothes. Do you have office work here? I could be a clerk or something, but my brush calligraphy is just okay. You definitely don’t have computers, right?”

“Um… do you at least have movable-type printing yet…?”

Mo Ting Feng watched her, eyes measuring. Of course he wasn’t going to tell her what it meant that she could wear that White Robe. He didn’t trust her.

“Help me find the White Robe,” he said, “and you can stay.”

Song Wei Chen’s shoulders drooped. So that was a no.

“This place is unfamiliar. Where am I supposed to find him? I haven’t even seen him.”

She turned to leave, lips pulled into a sulky line. Fine. She’d go first and figure it out later. If one place wouldn’t keep her, she’d find another.

“I never said you’d do it alone.” Mo Ting Feng’s gaze flicked over her strange clothes. “Change, and come with me.”

Song Wei Chen stared at him, then spread her hands. Change into what—bedsheets?

This big boss really did whatever popped into his head. Was upper management always this impulsive?

“Wait.” Mo Ting Feng left without expression.

For reasons he didn’t fully understand, his feet carried him to the room beside his bedroom—a room he hadn’t entered in nearly a thousand years.

It looked like a woman’s boudoir. The wardrobe held countless pristine dresses, untouched by time.

Mo Ting Feng reached out, hesitated for a long moment, then took one set.

When he returned, he tossed it at Song Wei Chen. “Don’t dawdle.”

He turned and walked out. With a flick of his fingers, the door shut on its own.

Outside, he stood in the doorway and stared into the courtyard, and something old and bitter stirred.

A thousand years ago.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of that person in a long time. Her face had blurred. But her fawning smiles, her sweet words—those he could never forget.

That performer who lived by selling charm. That pretentious, hypocritical emotional scammer who swore vows to him while climbing toward power and wealth behind his back.

For a thousand years, Mo Ting Feng had used every connection he had in the Dream Realm, searching across the three realms for news of her reincarnation.

Nothing.

Someone once asked him why he’d kept this room—why he’d preserved it to match the place she once lived. Was it so that when he found her, they could stay together forever?

Mo Ting Feng remembered laughing coldly.

Together forever? As if.

The room existed only to remind him how deep the wound had been.

“If it’s not for staying together,” that person had asked, “why insist on finding her?”

“Find her,” Mo Ting Feng had answered, “and torment her.”

The memory sharpened his hatred.

Then the door creaked behind him.

He turned—and went still.

The woman stepping out looked nothing like the ragged, furious girl from before. She wore a flowing skirt; her hair was loosely pinned, the rest falling down her back. For an instant, it was as if the blurred figure from a thousand years ago sharpened into focus.

Mo Ting Feng’s composure faltered. His heart lurched—unwanted, uninvited.

Song Wei Chen saw the storm in his eyes—hatred, tangled emotion—and it startled her. She backed up a step without thinking.

What was wrong with this man? She hadn’t even done anything. Why was he suddenly looking at her like that? Male menopause? Hormones?

Or was he… on his period?

Her thoughts skidded. In her unfamiliar dress she stepped on her own hem. Her balance went, and she tipped backward—

A strong arm caught her.

His face was close enough that she caught his scent, clean and cold. The position was far too intimate. Song Wei Chen’s heart sped up for no good reason.

Mo Ting Feng snapped back to himself with irritation. He released her too quickly, like she’d burned him.

He shouldn’t have gone into that room.

Bad luck.

“Stupid,” he said coldly. “You can trip on flat ground.”

He thrust a hand toward her, expression all sharp disdain. “Hold on.”

Song Wei Chen nearly choked. This big boss had a misogyny problem or something. Who talked like that?

Who wanted to hold on to you? Like touching you would make me immortal?

She rolled her eyes, pretending she hadn’t heard him.

Mo Ting Feng snorted. Annoyance flashed. He grabbed her wrist outright.

In the next instant, the room vanished.

“I’m immortal! I’m immortal!” Song Wei Chen screamed into the wind.

They stood above the River of Oblivion, riding on a platform of sword qi formed from Mo Ting Feng’s flying sword. Blackwater stretched beneath them, endless and dark.

Mo Ting Feng hadn’t brought her here on a whim.

The White Robe vanished here. She appeared again here. The chaos wraith disappeared here. Even Gu Cang Yue…

If Gu Cang Yue was involved, bringing her here would force his hand.

If the trail broke here, then he would pick it up here.

That was Mo Ting Feng’s plan.

Song Wei Chen, however, was having the time of her life.

“Big Boss!” she yelled, hair whipping into her face. “I didn’t know you were this amazing! What stage are you—Golden Core, Divine Transformation, True Immortal?”

“This is straight-up a classic xianxia drama scene! This is insane!”

Maybe because it was daytime, even the Blackwater below didn’t look as terrifying as it had that night.

Mo Ting Feng’s voice cut clean through her excitement. “Think carefully. About the White Robe—do you have anything else to add?”

Right. The misogynistic executive only cared about his missing companion. And she was up here screaming like she was on a theme park ride.

So embarrassing.

She replayed everything with a miserable expression, then looked at him helplessly. “About the White Robe, I’ve told you everything I know. Can you ask me something else?”

Mo Ting Feng loosened his grip without warning.

The wind surged. The sword platform jolted beneath her feet. Song Wei Chen swayed, face draining as fear snapped into her eyes.