Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 58
Waking once, the scar on her face was gone. Waking again, an anklet had appeared around her foot.
Shi Yan lifted her leg with deliberate nonchalance, the silver glint catching the light. She turned the anklet this way and that, and the more she looked, the more it struck her as something exquisite—a treasure with nobility written all over it.
The angle was awkward, so she rolled over, sat up, and kicked a cushion aside. The anklet was formed of two slender silver bands linked by fine chains, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shift between peonies and tree peonies. At its center lay a hollow core inlaid with pale green jade, faintly translucent, radiating a cool breath of air.
On her foot, it felt weightless, as though it belonged there, carrying only a faint coolness against her skin. From her years in Hexian City, Shi Yan could tell it was a defensive treasure of very high quality—so high that her poor finances had never allowed her to even dream of such a thing. Though made of silver and jade, its touch carried something otherworldly.
“How do you like it?”
Sima Jiao’s voice came from behind, quiet yet startling.
Shi Yan scratched her ear, trying to cover her surprise. “It’s beautiful. But… I’m not used to wearing anklets. Can’t I wear it on my wrist instead? And a treasure this rare—you’re really giving it to me?” It felt like an heirloom, yet he’d slipped it on her ankle as casually as if tossing her a trinket.
Sima Jiao smiled faintly and crouched, his fingertips brushing the anklet. “Once bound, even I cannot remove it. This is the only defensive treasure of its kind in the world. Nothing can break through it to harm you.”
Shi Yan blinked. “…Not even you?”
He didn’t so much as arch an eyebrow, only looked at her with a tenderness she couldn’t decipher. “Correct. Not even me.”
Shi Yan cursed inwardly. What is this, an anti-domestic-violence device? If not even he can touch me, can’t I just strut around without fear? Forget strutting—I could probably lie down and roll.
In this world, who could still subdue her?
Sima Jiao studied her expression closely, then tipped up her chin. “You don’t find it strange?”
“…Strange?” Shi Yan stalled, then it struck her. Why did her first thought equate him with danger? Why did she instinctively frame this as protection from him?
Clearly not what Sima Jiao meant.
He suddenly burst into laughter, and before she could protest, his lips brushed her forehead. He nuzzled against her nose, almost amused. “Don’t you think I’ve given this to imprison you?”
Shi Yan: …What kind of thought process is this?
But he looked so pleased with himself that she dared not answer. After all, when you wake up to find beautiful jewelry, isn’t the natural reaction to think of it as a gift? Who in their right mind associates that with imprisonment?
Sima Jiao’s finger slid from her chin to her wrist, tugging her up. Her body grew strangely light, her bare feet hovering just off the ground as he led her forward.
The black stone floor reflected them like a mirror. With each hurried step, the twin silver rings of her anklet chimed softly, a delicate counterpoint to his long strides. Sima Jiao’s black robe swept behind him, his pace so quick it was as though he devoured the floor in meters at a time. Shi Yan, barefoot and disheveled from sleep, was nearly dragged along, their shadows—one dark, one pale—stretched together across the polished surface.
She hadn’t even washed her face. Her hair was loose, her feet bare. She felt more like a wandering ghost than a noble lady, yet Sima Jiao seemed in a mood, ignoring her protests as he strode through the endless, echoing halls.
The Forbidden Palace was cavernous, deserted but for them, its great pillars vanishing into domed ceilings painted with ornate caisson patterns. Their footsteps echoed, the vast silence amplifying the sense of déjà vu prickling at the back of her mind.
Sima Jiao brought her before a towering structure, its golden tiles and crimson walls blazing like fire against the white stone of Winter City. The clash of colors was almost harsh.
Again, that strange flicker of familiarity.
He led her onto a path paved with cold white stones, each slab gleaming with icy luster. Their arrangement reminded Shi Yan absurdly of the pebble paths in city parks back home, where old folks swore stomping barefoot on them stimulated acupuncture points.
She’d always thought those paths felt like torture devices.
But before she could scoff, Sima Jiao’s gaze swept to her bare feet. Without hesitation, he lifted her, settling her against his arm in a posture far too reminiscent of how adults carried small children.
Shi Yan: …Really? I haven’t sat like this since I was seven.
Her fake father, Shi Qianlü, had never carried her like this. Yet here was the almighty Lord of Winter City, holding her with practiced ease, like it was the most natural thing. She found herself instinctively positioning her hands on his shoulder, her body reacting as if it had always known this.
Perhaps this was the terrifying power of love—it left traces even the body remembered.
At the end of the stone path, the air turned bitterly cold. Sima Jiao pushed open the towering door and set her down again. The floor inside was covered with lush carpets woven with blooming flowers, while the painted walls depicted dancers, singers, and immortals ascending, all vibrant with life.
“Come,” he said.
Shi Yan followed him up the endless stairs, her eyes drawn to his silhouette against the light above—long hair, black robe, a figure both familiar and dizzying.
At one point, he glanced back. “Back then, when you climbed this tower, you tired halfway and nearly sat down. I thought…”
“I thought you were the weakest person I’d ever seen. Even the snakes I kept casually were a hundred times stronger.”
Shi Yan: Does this man even know how to talk?
Only a woman with iron patience could have dated him in the past.
But his voice lost its teasing edge as he added, “Now, you don’t grow tired anymore.” The unspoken weight in his tone puzzled her.
She forced a dry laugh. “With a Transformation Deity cultivation, stairs aren’t exactly a challenge.”
He gave a noncommittal hum, then suddenly swept her into his arms again. Without warning, he leapt upward, using the floating lanterns as footholds.
Shi Yan clutched his shoulder, startled. Hey—this is faster than an elevator!
The lanterns were carved with openwork floral designs, and when lit, they cast delicate blossoms across the ground. Shi Yan’s eyes lit up as the patterns bloomed into life under their feet.
Sima Jiao, noticing her gaze, patted her head. “All of these are new. I added them after moving the tower here. I knew you’d like them.” His tone held a boyish pride that was strangely endearing.
Truly, love made even the fiercest man childish.
At the top, a vast hall opened before them, at its center a pool of green water. Something about it felt incomplete, as if something was missing.
Sima Jiao reached in and drew forth a trembling red lotus. As its petals opened, a flame flared from its core, accompanied by the pitiful cries of a child.
Then the flame snarled, baring its heat like teeth. “Aaaah! I’ll kill you! What’s your woman’s death got to do with me? It was your own damn scheming that burned her, not me! You dunked me in the water for that? Are you mad? You’re the stupid bastard here—I’m the one suffering, not you!”
Sima Jiao slapped the flame back into the water with a crack of power. “Shut up.”
The flame shrank, whimpering, until its voice dropped to a sulky murmur. Then it spotted Shi Yan and screeched, “You found her again?!”
Shi Yan: …Amazing. A flame that curses like me.
Sima Jiao’s mouth curled. “Before, I let you water it. You must have taught it this foul tongue. Now it curses worse than ever.”
Shi Yan almost toppled. Why do you sound like I corrupted your family parrot?
She could only look wronged enough to rival snow in June.
Later, Sima Jiao led her up to the tower’s highest gallery, where the clouds broke open around them and Winter City spread below.
“This tower once stood on Three Saints Mountain,” he said. “After I destroyed the mountain, I moved it here.”
His tone suggested confession, as though expecting her judgment.
Shi Yan forced a smile. “Seems you like this tower?”
“I despise it,” he said flatly. “It imprisoned me for five hundred years.”
Shi Yan nearly choked. Five hundred years? Great Sage Sun, is that you?
Sima Jiao’s eyes grew distant. “Imprisoned so long, I hated those who bound me. From the start, I swore that once I was free, I would kill them all. So tell me…”
His gaze locked on her. “Would you despise me, the same way I despised them?”
Shi Yan gave him a dry grin. “What kind of question is that? If I didn’t want to be here, this would be imprisonment. But if I’m willing… then it isn’t.”
His expression softened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I knew, deep down, you’d still trust me.”
Shi Yan thought: If I tell him I’m mostly here for the good food and decent treatment, he’ll probably toss me off this tower.
So she smiled sweetly and said, “You’re right.”