The official in charge of casting the imperial seal was drenched in sweat. “Your Majesty, this…” This simply would not do!
Re-engraving the imperial seal was a major affair, let alone the fact that His Majesty even wanted to change the inscription “Emperor’s Great Treasure” on the seal face.
The emperor had been placed under house arrest by his late father for a full ten years. No sooner had the period of national mourning ended than he could not wait to discard the seal handed down by the late emperor. He truly hated his own father to the bone.
Just as the official was lost in thought, the emperor’s gaze slanted over.
Terrified, he dropped to his knees: “Your servant obeys! Your servant will immediately draft the seal inscription and submit it for Your Majesty’s approval.”
The Western Regions had presented a good deal of jade. Xiao Zhi’s fingertips brushed one by one over the shelves in the imperial treasury, selecting a piece that pleased his eye.
Fool.
If a single seal could change a dynasty’s fate, there would never have been any doomed sovereigns throughout history.
Xiao Zhi casually picked out a piece, then his gaze fell upon the stacked gold.
“Wang Delan.”
“What is the current price of gold?”
Wang Delan: “Reporting to Your Majesty, one tael of pure gold can be exchanged for twelve taels of silver.”
Xiao Zhi thought of what Yun Yi had said: in her era, one gram of gold was worth a thousand yuan.
The hem of his dragon robe brushed past the rosewood curio shelves. Wherever he paused, one or two rare gold objects would disappear from that shelf.
Wang Delan did not dare look too much, though flashes of yellow gold caught the corner of his eye—every piece His Majesty picked was a woman’s adornment.
From large gold-and-jade ruyi scepters down to gold hairpins, gold bracelets, and gold earrings.
The tray in Wang Delan’s hands grew heavier and heavier. He went from holding it at waist level to cradling it in his arms.
Until His Majesty placed a gold longsword on top.
Wang Delan set the tray down on a shelf, panting: “Your… Your Majesty, this servant, this servant…”
Wang Delan could no longer carry it.
Xiao Zhi raised the gold sword, slashed it through the air a few times, and laughed to himself: “If the chance arises, this sword shall be given to someone.”
If he gave Yun Yi so much gold and her brother caught sight of it, burning with jealousy—what then?
They both bore the surname Yun. To keep things fair—he would bestow this sword upon him.
Besides, he had practiced a few moves with that strange sword of Yun Xi’s.
That thing was unsharpened and insubstantial. A sword without the feel of a sword.
Wang Delan, baffled, said: “Your Majesty, shall these be sent to Miss Yun’s residence?”
He knew Yun Yi was a celestial maiden. Immortals dwelt in immortal abodes—as long as the items were delivered to the designated place, the celestial maiden would come to collect them herself.
Who knew that the emperor would put away his rare relaxed expression and fall silent instead.
“…”
.
Yun Yi picked up a rotten tulip bulb, peeled off its scaly skin, and handed it to Xiao Liu. “This can still be planted.”
“You’re not planting it?” Xiao Liu noticed her low spirits and set down his trowel.
Last year she had even snatched the trowel from him. This year he had specially brought an extra one, never expecting she would not feel like planting.
“No, I’m going to do laundry.” Yun Yi made up an excuse on the spot and left the back courtyard.
Yun Yi stuffed Xiao Zhi’s dragon robe into the washing machine. She had just set it to the silk program when Yun Guoqiang walked into the laundry room.
“Daughter,” Yun Guoqiang’s peripheral vision caught the golden dragon-head embroidery tumbling in the drum and lingered for a second. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Thinking his daughter had made a new friend, Yun Guoqiang grew tense: “Did that fellow surnamed Xiao bully you? I’ll go teach him a lesson.”
“It has nothing to do with him,” Yun Yi said, poking at a laundry pod with her fingertip. “He’s my friend.”
Afraid her old father might ask some outrageous question, Yun Yi quickly stressed, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Pop—
The pod burst under her finger, blue detergent oozing out.
Yun Guoqiang was absolutely certain: his precious daughter had quarreled with that surnamed Xiao.
Why else would there be a hint of dejection in her eyes?
“I’ve been busy lately with the artifacts excavated from the Xiao Family Village site. Once I’m through this stretch…”
Yun Yi was feeling listless. She tapped open her phone and replied to a few customer messages about pre-sales.
Yun Guoqiang pulled over a little plastic stool and sat down hunched over. “Xiao Zhi, right?”
It was only at the mention of Xiao Zhi’s name that Yun Yi actually looked her father in the eye.
The old father recalled Xiao Zhi: he clearly had a very young face, but with his expression lines, he looked at least twenty years older—too haggard for his age.
“Is he your classmate?”
“Graduate student?”
“Working?”
Yun Yi shook her head like a rattle-drum.
“A freeloader?” Yun Guoqiang mentally gave Xiao Zhi a score of zero.
Forget it—not good enough for his precious girl.
…
The washing machine stopped. Yun Yi was just about to bend down when her father scooted over, stool and all, opened the drum lid, and pulled out the spin-dried clothes.
The freshly washed robe was a crumpled mess. Yun Guoqiang was about to toss it into the dryer when his hands paused.
His gaze landed on the dragon-head embroidery.
Exquisite needlework—absolutely not some costume you could buy online.
He shook the robe open—the water-darkened black brocade made the coiled dragon on the robe appear even more three-dimensional, its pair of painted eyes seeming almost alive.
“This clothes… where did it come from?” Professional instinct told Yun Guoqiang this robe was no ordinary piece.
Only then did Yun Yi realize her father was staring fixedly at Xiao Zhi’s dragon robe.
How was she supposed to explain its origin.
“His,” Yun Yi said awkwardly. “It got dirty, so I’m washing it for him. Don’t you dare eye his stuff—it has to be returned to him.”
“But this robe doesn’t look like an ordinary costume.” The old father lowered his voice, his heart pounding.
Uh.
Yun Yi steeled herself and said, “It’s just a dragon robe. He wears it for fun.”
Yun Guoqiang gave a smiling face: “What ordinary person wears a dragon robe? Don’t give me that cosplay convention excuse—I was into anime in my younger days too.”
Yun Yi tossed the robe into the dryer and coldly pressed the start button.
Yun Guoqiang’s heart seized up—the same pang as watching a Warring States crystal cup get treated like a common glass.
The dryer rumbled loudly.
“Dad, don’t you dare eye Xiao Zhi’s things.”
Yun Guoqiang pulled out his phone. “Give me Xiao Xiao’s number. I’ll invite him for tea.”
“He doesn’t have a phone.”
Yun Guoqiang took it as a joke. He noticed one thing: whenever the topic of meeting Xiao Zhi came up, his daughter would grow troubled.
“So secretive—this kid isn’t a tomb robber, is he!”
Yun Yi couldn’t be bothered with him. She shooed her father out of the laundry room and sat in front of the dryer waiting for the clothes.
Such precious items weren’t safe at home.
Three hours later, she appeared at the bank.
Following the staff member deeper inside, Yun Yi arrived at her newly rented safety deposit box.
After the staff member explained the precautions, they withdrew.
The surrounding space was filled with uniform silver cabinets, bright fluorescent lights blazing. The young woman standing before the cabinets looked utterly alone.
“You’ll have to make do here for now.” She gave the gold-thread embroidery on the robe one last stroke. “When your master comes back, I’ll bring him here to retrieve you.”
“Wait for us.” Yun Yi closed the cabinet.
Bank safety deposit boxes could be rented for one to three years, with renewal after the term. Yun Yi chose a one-year term.
Based on her two crossing experiences, the modern era and the Yan Dynasty operated on different time flows.
Xiao Zhi had spent 3 days in 2026, so by the time he returned to the Yan Dynasty, it might have been three months later.
Yun Yi attached the safety deposit box key to her cloud-shaped keychain and murmured, “I’ll wait for you one year. If you don’t show up after a year, I’m sending your robe to auction.”
There was a saying—how did it go? Going bankrupt yourself is certainly frightening, but watching a friend get rich is even more gut-wrenching.
“One year from now, I’ll be rich!” Yun Yi grew louder as she spoke. “If you don’t want to feel that sting, then come back soon.”
Just once. Coming back just once would be enough.
.
[IOU]
[Yun Yi rented a safety deposit box at Bank of China on October 26, 2026, at 14:26. Annual fee: 280 RMB.]
[Xiao Zhi must repay 280 taels of gold within one year.]
[Signature ( )]
The yellow talisman notebook that Daoist Xiao had pawned to Yun Yi had been reduced to a debt ledger.
Yun Yi glanced at the gold price—if 280 RMB were converted into gold for repayment, it would make her, the modern person, seem like she was taking advantage of an ancient.
“Then 280 taels of silver it is.” She scratched and revised the IOU.
.
With Xiao Zhi’s help (and intimidation), the factory worked overtime and completed the shipment ahead of schedule.
Seeing the young woman arrive alone to pick up the goods, Manager Wu glanced toward the Porsche several times. “Where’s Mr. Xiao?”
“He went home,” Yun Yi said flatly.
“Back to England?”
“More or less.” Yun Yi shot a glance at the man with “severe hearing loss” who had misheard “Yan” as “England.”
She randomly inspected two items—the quality was fine. After counting the quantities, she drove off.
The Porsche cut a silvery-gray streak of light and quickly vanished.
“Miss Yun doesn’t seem to be in high spirits.” Manager Wu recalled the last time she had come with Mr. Xiao—her eyes had sparkled when she spoke. Compared to today, she was like a different person.
The young laborer moving boxes had also seen the two of them and casually remarked, “Maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend.”
Back home, Miss Yun instantly transformed into a packing worker.
Printing orders, wrapping each crossbody bag in tissue paper, placing it into custom milk-coffee-colored kraft paper bags, affixing the cloud logo seal Yun Yi had designed… then into the corrugated shipping boxes.
Little Worker Yun slapped shipping labels onto the boxes.
Pre-sales of the crossbody bags totaled two hundred units.
The three-piece hair-tie set sold over three hundred, with numbers still climbing.
One day was indeed not enough to finish.
Bracing through soreness and backache, Yun Yi continued packing early the next morning.
Finally, at 9:30 AM, the courier hauled away all the packages.
After a shower, Yun Yi checked her back in the mirror. After resting for a while, her shoulders and back had improved considerably. She remembered she still had three massage sessions left at the hospital—if only she had paid per session instead of in bulk. What a loss.
Oh well, that was just the petty bourgeoisie mindset.
At 10:15, Yun Yi lay on the treatment bed for her second session.
She felt much better after the massage and decided it had been worth it after all.
The female massage therapist remembered her—that ABC friend of hers had no sense of pressure and nearly snapped the cervical traction device off a colleague.
Seeing the young woman listlessly putting on her clothes, the doctor studied her hair tie: “Miss, where did you buy that hair tie you’re wearing? My daughter likes that style.”
Miss Yun pulled out her phone and showed the doctor the order page.
The cover image was still that stolen shot of Xiao Zhi’s back of the head.
Though the face wasn’t visible, from the back of the head alone, the model boasted an excellent cranium and a head of jet-black, silky long hair.
“Is there a mistake? I meant the hair tie you’re wearing right now.” The model was wearing cute cloud-shaped hair elastics—not the same thing as what Yun Yi had on.
Yun Yi instinctively touched her ponytail, her fingertip brushing against the fine gold-thread scales.
Only then did she realize—she was wearing Xiao Zhi’s hair tie.
“Sorry, this belongs to a friend of mine. It’s not sold anywhere.”
The doctor: “No wonder. The stitching is completely different from machine-embroidered stuff on the market.”
Yun Yi thought: if that man were here, he would certainly snort and say, “Something from my palace—how could it be compared to common wares?”
The doctor looked at her patient, who had drifted off in thought for a moment, then raised a hand to touch the hair tie. Whatever scene came to mind, the corners of her mouth finally curved into a rare smile.
< Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter >
Leave a Reply