Chapter Six: Breaking Through

By the riverside, lights glittered brilliantly, laughter and playful voices mingling ceaselessly in the night air. Hidden behind the willow trees, Xiao Jiu inwardly scorned himself for stooping to eavesdrop, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk, yet he made no move to leave.

He was a little too far to catch every word, but the fragments he heard were enough to cause the slight smile at his lips to stiffen gradually.

“Wangjiu, I—I like you...”

“Wangjiu...”

So, in the end, it was mutual affection, and this fellow Wangjiu would carry off the beauty? Boring, utterly boring. Xiao Jiu snorted coldly, an inexplicable and fiery anger flaring within him. He strode quickly away, vanishing into the crowd.

Tao Hong drew Wangjiu down to the riverbank, where only the two of them remained. With time, place, and circumstance all in their favor, the atmosphere was perfect. Releasing Wangjiu’s arm, Tao Hong lowered her head, eyelashes trembling without rest, lips pressed together, as she slowly drew from her sleeve a hairpin woven from willow branches.

She had spent sleepless nights crafting that hairpin, her hands covered in tiny cuts; yet the thought that she could give it to her beloved Wangjiu made the pain sweet and her heart full. After a brief hesitation and a deep breath, she looked up, smiling at him. “Wangjiu, would you listen to something I want to say?”

Wangjiu nodded, though all his attention was fixed on the shadow behind the willow.

Tao Hong smiled shyly and continued softly, “Wangjiu, listen carefully—I’ll only say this once...”

“Wangjiu, I—I like you...” Tao Hong blurted out, offering both the hairpin and her heart in her hands.

Wangjiu, startled from his reverie, realized the figure behind the willow remained unmoved. He accepted the hairpin as Tao Hong looked at him in disbelief. “I can only hold onto this for you,” he said.

Tao Hong’s face paled from red, eyes rimmed with tears, her voice choked. “Wangjiu...”

Wangjiu smiled helplessly. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. The truth is, I already care for someone else.”

Tao Hong pouted. “Who is it? What luck they have!”

Wangjiu could only return a silent, slightly melancholy smile.

She pressed no further, only asking, “Can I hug you?” Without waiting for a reply, she threw herself at him, but Wangjiu slipped aside. Tao Hong looked utterly desolate; he knew full well, even if his heart was empty, he was not suited for her.

The past was always there—he, sword in hand, cold-blooded and merciless, harvesting lives as if it were only yesterday. He could not truly interact with others, not like a normal person. With that thought, Wangjiu turned and left. Some things simply need not be spoken aloud.

“Wangjiu...” Tao Hong whispered with her head bowed, then suddenly crouched down and sobbed bitterly.

“Miss, are you alright?” At the words, Tao Hong looked up to see an elegant young gentleman smiling as he offered her a fine handkerchief.

Tao Hong accepted it dazedly, but then brushed it aside, snapping, “Mind your own business!” She wiped her face with her sleeve, ignoring the stranger.

The elegant young man watched Tao Hong’s retreating figure, his smile fading. He pressed his foot lightly on the exquisite handkerchief, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. “Old Xiao Xian, you decrepit fox, who are you trying to fool? The man is clearly alive and well!”

“As long as he lives, my entertainment continues...” He let out a few low laughs, peeled off his false face, revealing a half-ruined visage—grotesque and terrifying in the night, like a vengeful ghost risen from hell.

Wangjiu, swept along by the crowd, wandered to the Temple of the Matchmaker. With a bang, colorful fireworks blossomed across the ink-dark sky. People craned their necks to watch the dazzling display, but Wangjiu did not look up, instead making his way alone to the old tree.

On the opposite side stood Xiao Jiu, also not watching the fireworks. He slowly circled to Wangjiu’s side, frowning as he noticed Wangjiu holding a matchmaking token, tracing something on it alone.

As Wangjiu threaded a red string through the small hole of the token, he heard a voice behind him, all too familiar: “So, you’re ready to take the matchmaking token and marry that girl right away?”

Xiao Jiu stood just behind him. Wangjiu paused, saying nothing, tucking the token into his sleeve. Xiao Jiu, displeased, stepped forward to snatch it away. Wangjiu offered no resistance.

The token was roughly made; Xiao Jiu felt a sting as it nicked his hand, drawing a drop of blood. Unnoticed, that blood soaked into the token, which began to smooth and shine, gleaming faintly.

To Xiao Jiu’s surprise, the token bore no inscription at all. He stared blankly, as Wangjiu quietly said, “I didn’t accept her.”

Holding the token, Xiao Jiu felt as if it were a branding iron, scalding his palm. He flung it away.

The token flew directly toward the ancient tree before the Matchmaker’s Temple. As it soared, a red light shimmered from it, and suddenly, words appeared on its once-blank face.

It settled perfectly among the other tokens on the old tree. Unnoticed by the crowd, a red glow burst from the tree, shooting up to the clouds.

The Matchmaker, busy tending the threads of fate, was startled and rushed toward the source of the glow. In the mortal realm, each world’s threads of fate were tied to different great trees, while those outside the Five Realms had their threads entwined with the peach trees that represented them.

Only when a peach tree awakened would it blossom, then bear fruit and grow its thread of fate. Yet the tree belonging to the Ghost Lord had been lifeless and withered for who knew how many years. The Matchmaker had nearly given up, seldom bothering to check it. But now, the red glow had fallen precisely on the Ghost Lord’s tree.

Amazingly, new branches sprouted, and the red threads wrapped around it shimmered, then faded away. Sweat broke out on the Matchmaker’s brow. Should he report this to the Heavenly Emperor? After all, this concerned that old ghost...

Behind him, someone stumbled forward, their clothes snagged by peach branches. Lan Li, eyes brimming with tears, reached out to the Matchmaker. “Match... Match... Match...”

The Matchmaker sighed, turning to free Lan Li’s clothes from the branches. “Didn’t I tell you to stay quietly in your room?”

Lan Li looked up at him and broke into a smile, eyes narrowing with joy as he clung tightly to the Matchmaker. “Matchmaker, you’re mine.”

The Matchmaker sighed inwardly at the clinging cat. In those indigo eyes he saw his own reflection, and with a resigned smile, he returned the embrace. At least, until Lan Li recovered his senses, let him be selfish just this once...

It was said the Matchmaker governed the fates of thousands, yet could not command his own. Amidst those countless red strings, his was the only one missing. So what harm in permitting himself this one indulgence?