Shadow Peach Blossom

When Ji Ningzhao awoke on Saturday, the faintest glimmer of dawn stretched across the sky outside, and the world was utterly quiet.

The little dragon lay coiled beside her head, sleeping deeply. Its chin rested against a ruby it had recently grown fond of, yet the tip of its tail hooked around a strand of Ji Ningzhao’s hair.

The little dragon had grown especially attached to her lately, so Ji Ningzhao did not sit up right away. Instead, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Recently, she had been dreaming of the past with unusual frequency—dreams of her return to the old Palace of Restraint, wandering barefoot along the wooden corridor outside the Star-Picking Pavilion.

Outside, the wind chimes made for her by Ying Chongyun tinkled brightly when caught by the breeze stirred by her robe. Ying Chongyun would stand at the end of the corridor, waiting for Ji Ningzhao to rush into his arms like a fledgling returning to its nest.

But Ji Ningzhao’s dreams often ended at such moments, leaving only a haze of confusion upon waking.

In dreams, one forgets oneself is but a guest.

However, whatever haze or weakness remained in Ji Ningzhao vanished completely once the sunlight filled the room.

The little dragon perched on her shoulder as she watched the pot bubbling with lean meat congee. It was about to sneak its tail into the pot to stir when Ji Ningzhao caught it in the act.

Ji Ningzhao sighed and pinched the tip of the dragon’s tail, then scooped a small bowl for it and set it aside.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the walnut dining table. Ji Ningzhao and the little dragon sat opposite each other, each sipping their own bowl of congee, creating a scene of tranquil domesticity.

Halfway through her meal, Ji Ningzhao received a call from the Special Division.

There was paperwork to sign regarding Yuying High School, but out of respect for Ji Ningzhao, the captain of the division offered to bring the documents to her, sparing her a trip.

Ji Ningzhao glanced at the calendar, thought of her empty refrigerator, and decided she might as well go to the Special Division herself and swing by the supermarket afterward.

She and the little dragon had already developed a tacit understanding—when Ji Ningzhao prepared to leave, the little dragon immediately leaped into her sleeve.

The supermarket was lively on weekends, but the underground parking garage was quiet.

As Ji Ningzhao walked to her car and reached for the door, she suddenly heard two girls speaking behind her.

“Yueyue, you really should try it. After I used it, I dreamed about what I wanted, and it felt so real.”

The lively, clear voice was followed by a gentler, more hesitant one. “But I don’t know him. I only dreamed about him once. Maybe I’m just too tired lately.”

“Oh, you’re overthinking it. Isn’t it romantic? Besides, it’s just a dream—what’s the harm…”

The two girls passed by Ji Ningzhao, their voices fading into the distance.

Ji Ningzhao leaned against her car door, half her face hidden in shadow, expression unreadable.

The little dragon slithered from her sleeve onto her shoulder. Ji Ningzhao scratched its chin softly and murmured, “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”

The little dragon, naturally, did not speak. Other people meant nothing to it; in its simple mind, all that mattered was Ji Ningzhao’s safety.

It enjoyed her scratching so much that it rested its head on her fingers contentedly.

Ji Ningzhao, however, glanced in the direction the girls had gone. Even though the lighting in the underground garage was dim, she could clearly see a streak of crimson arching from one girl’s brow to the corner of her eye.

Shadowed Peach Blossom.

Ji Ningzhao settled into the driver’s seat and, after thinking for a moment, sent a message to the Special Division.

When she returned home and pushed open the gate, the little dragon, previously dozing on her shoulder, suddenly straightened, its golden pupils narrowing in alertness as it stared toward the house.

Ji Ningzhao paused, and the door was slowly opened from within. “Why aren’t you coming in?”

Leaning in the doorway was a man whose looks were strikingly beautiful—rare among men, enough to be likened to the vibrant blooms of spring. He wore a pale green shirt, but it did not make him seem frivolous.

His sleeves were neatly rolled up, revealing strong forearms, and his stance by the door carried an air of effortless charm.

The little dragon remained wary of the man, while Ji Ningzhao relaxed completely, her gaze soft and smiling. “Ruan Qing, why didn’t you say you were coming?”

Ruan Qing smiled, taking the things from her hands naturally. “I’d just finished dealing with clan matters and came straight to see you—I haven’t even been home.”

His smile faded slightly when he saw the little dragon on Ji Ningzhao’s shoulder. “Is this the soul fragment that suddenly awakened—the one you mentioned to Zhong Yanbei?”

Ji Ningzhao was accustomed to his attitude. Pushing the door open, she replied, “Yes. How did you know? Did Zhong Yanbei tell you?”

From the living room, Zhong Yanbei spoke up, “I told him.”

He glanced at the little dragon on Ji Ningzhao’s shoulder. He reached out to pet it, but the little dragon, now entirely devoted to Ji Ningzhao and indifferent to all others, lashed his hand fiercely with its tail.

Zhong Yanbei withdrew his hand, speechless, rolling his eyes at the little dragon whose expression screamed, “How dare you touch my head, you audacious creature!”

Ji Ningzhao chuckled, “You two didn’t plan to come together, did you? Why didn’t either of you say anything?”

As soon as she finished, Ruan Qing and Zhong Yanbei exchanged a glance, then looked away in unison.

They weren’t quite at the point of mutual dislike, but Ruan Qing saw Zhong Yanbei as someone intent on stealing his cousin’s affection, while Zhong Yanbei viewed Ruan Qing as the cousin of his rival in love. Naturally, their relationship was far from cordial, and they certainly hadn’t coordinated their visit.

Ruan Qing, newly appointed leader of the Azure Luan Clan, had been so busy he hadn’t had a chance to see Ji Ningzhao. Once he finally managed to settle clan affairs, he rushed over.

Zhong Yanbei, still unsettled by something Ji Ningzhao had said the other night and wanting to see Ruan Qing’s soul fragment for himself, had descended from Yanmen Mountain.

They arrived at Ji Ningzhao’s home one after another, discovered she wasn’t in, and both decided, wordlessly, to wait inside.

Upon first encountering each other, failing to recognize the other, they nearly came to blows.

But neither wanted to mention this in Ji Ningzhao’s presence, so they glossed over it with casual banter.

Ruan Qing, knowing Ji Ningzhao’s habits, glanced at the groceries in the bag and offered, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. Let’s have dinner together tonight—I’ll cook.”

He naturally picked up the little dragon from Ji Ningzhao’s shoulder and set it on the table, then followed her into the kitchen.

The little dragon, suddenly removed from its perch, stared in confusion at Zhong Yanbei, wide-eyed.

Zhong Yanbei, seeing the soul fragment’s clueless expression, couldn’t help but snicker, planning to snap a photo for his phone.

If his cousin’s luck held and he truly returned one day, Zhong Yanbei could use this as leverage to enjoy a lifetime of luxury at Ying Chongyun’s expense.