“The Great Guest accepts the condition.” Shengsi took the three coins as well, closing them within her palm.

“Our Great Guest shall cast first.”

“Then I shall proceed.” She tossed the three coins, caught them, and laid them upon the table at once.

Three heads!

Chuanhu rubbed his chin, his gaze amused, as though something within him coiled quietly at the result.

It did not take long before he cast his own three coins.

Three tails!

“Great Guest,” he inclined his hand slightly, inviting her to proceed, “it seems my turn follows yours. Do the honor and continue with your cast.”

Shengsi gathered the three coins once more. As she caught them, her heart nearly leapt from her chest. Ba-dump. Ba-dump! Something whispered that she'd already stepped into a trap, and whatever result awaited her… it was not something she would welcome.

Alas, did she look at the result.

Head.

Head.

Head.

Shengsi averted her sparkly eyes from the serpent-like gaze of Xie Chuanhu, who now leaned his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on the table.

“What is the result, Gui Feng?”

His servant, Gui Feng, bowed his head and scrutinized the result in front of Shengsi. “This servant sees the result as the victory of Lord Jiawei.”

“I see.” Chuanhu’s blinks slowed, as if coiling into a question already formed. “One who guides the lost… I might say you are a teacher of sorts, or one whose instruction requires guidance. Are you here to mend a soul, or to exploit the land’s folly, like the emperor’s grief for a dead empress, or even like a thief in the night?”

Such a profound question that Shengsi almost believed Chuanhu was not only a noble, but one whose wisdom could contend with a scholar.

If she were foolish, she might not have grasped what he implied.

But if she did, then it only meant she had already stepped into a trap he prepared.

Chuanhu was simply asking for her motive.

How then should she answer?

If he expected her to speak with scholarly depth, then she might be in danger. But if she answered like a fool, would she be dismissed as incompetent?

Was this how he intended to play the game?

“I only wanted to help you return…”

She almost cursed herself for not finishing her sentence.

Looking into those peculiar eyes, she nearly stuttered, her breath stolen, her composure slipping.

If he stood there as someone far older than his twelve-year-old self, how could she even respond?

For heaven’s sake, was she losing her grip on reality?

When it was Chuanhu’s turn to toss, the result came the same:

Three heads, a stable yang line.

“Think about it,” Xie Chuanhu straightened slightly, tilting his head, “you speak of being a shaman. Yet the court has none.” He paused. “So your claim is like a single note in an empty hall.” It was as if he were saying her words were calm, yet her breath faltered. As if her eyes were steady, yet flickered at the mention of the palace. “It is said that truth lies in the body, not the tongue. How can I trust a sound when the instrument is unknown?”

Shengsi did not waver this time, and only looked straight into his eyes.

To play the game on his terms, what if she tilted the probability of him winning?

Honesty was never a thief in the night.

“Isn’t it a bit… crowded in here?” Shengsi observed the boisterous banquet.

Chuanhu seemed bemused by her question, but he let her continue.

“See, when I was at the Ziyou Graveyard, I happened to visit my aunt.” She sighed. “You may regard me as a shaman if you wish, but the truth is, I am just a mere commoner. This Great Guest cannot even be called a Great Guest.” She lowered her gaze. “You… on the other hand, are filled with wisdom. The way you speak, the way you observe… I almost thought you were a commoner like me, since you wear only a single layer of hemp.” She smiled bitterly. “When I visited my aunt’s grave, it was so silent I was nearly deafened. Compared to this, I am not someone worthy of being honorable, respectable, or wise.” She clasped her hands. “And you… you were dying back then, when I heard your grave bell.” She hesitated. “When I began to dig open your grave, I saw you wounded. I truly thought you would die.”

When she looked back at him, she noticed he was momentarily stupefied.

Yet his gaze remained unchanged, before returning to composure.

When it was Shengsi’s turn again, the result did not change.

“You may say I am someone buried too soon. A commoner in hemp, one stolen from the earth, or saved from it.” Chuanhu still did not fully trust her. “If you return such a body, you may return it whole… but what profit lies in making this mere commoner die twice? Once in the grave, and once in the eyes of his people?”

She creased her forehead at the question.

His suspicion was natural, but to imagine she would benefit from such a thing… was it not excessive?

Her life was at risk either way.

“If you are going to die,” Shengsi’s brows furrowed, “it will not be because of me…”

Chuanhu's lips twitched, as if confirming something to himself.

But what was he confirming?

“Xie Chuanhu, can we drop the act now?” Shengsi rubbed her temples. “What profit do I gain from killing you twice? Shouldn’t you ask that of the one who buried you in the first place?”

“Great Guest!” Gui Feng’s eyes widened. “You're only an officiant. How dare you speak to Lord Jiawei in such a manner!”

Chuanhu raised his hand slightly, signaling it was fine. Gui Feng bowed, though he cast Shengsi a sharp glance.

She hadn’t expected him to be this difficult.

Grandfather Li should have been the one to handle this, to question Chuanhu and bring him back.

“Xie Chuanhu?” Chuanhu repeated, subdued.

“That is your name, right? And you have this dream because you admire the Duke?” Shengsi crossed her arms. “We can still play the game, but may I call you Xie Chuanhu now?”

“You!” The servant pointed at her.

Shengsi’s expression softened. “I know you may not know that the Duke of Zhongyong is missing, and perhaps you are one of those who admire him, dreaming of his honor and glory… but the entire nation mourns his loss, while you dream his life.”

Gui Feng’s peculiar expression remained.

She gestured for him to continue. “It is your turn.”

At least, the weight in her chest had eased.

Shengsi was no longer shocked when the same result appeared again.

After all, this was his dream.

“It is true your words are as soft as silk. But even silk can bind. A true shaman seeks no favor, no power. If you gain mine, what becomes of your truth?”

Shengsi nearly spoke out of turn.

Did he strike his head so hard that he spoke like this without knowing where she came from?

“Xie Chuanhu,” she said, “my truth will remain the same.”

The next toss yielded the same result again, and so Chuanhu spoke:

“The teachings of Han Feizi say that a ruler who reveals his thoughts invites chaos. A soul, too, may be scattered by grief, by fear, by returning to a world that buried it once. If you pull me back from the void, Great Guest, do you return a man… or a vessel for old pain? Is healing merely another form of torment, a secret brought back into the world?”

It was as if he asked the same question again, merely sharpened.

She didn't grasp all of it.

But she understood enough.

“Xie Chuanhu,” she called again, “what other truth could I carry?” She had already said what needed to be said. Whether he believed her was up to him. “What matters now is your return. You do not have to trust me, but at least allow me to help you return.”

When it was finally her turn again, her lips twitched at the result.

Three tails.

Was it her turn to ask?

Then…

“I only wish to ask you something.”

The child Chuanhu looked at her with the same strange interest.

“Xie Chuanhu, what are you in Lord Jiawei’s life?”

Chuanhu blinked slowly. 

He glanced around before returning his gaze to her.

“Let me ask you one thing in return…”

Shengsi leaned forward.

“How can you ask the dead about it?”

The moment he spoke, the snow ceased, the noise faded, and movement stilled as the world dimmed, with every head turning toward her.

A chill ran through Shengsi.

In the end—

She had ruined the banquet.