Perhaps women are born to be creatures of change. The moment she placed the infant Xing'er in the small boat and sent him away, Yingzi had been utterly clear, certain, and resolute: she would not raise this bloodthirsty child only to become its accomplice. Yet, when the moment of literal separation of flesh and blood arrived, the searing pain made her yearn fiercely for a reunion with her own offspring. After those many sleepless nights and countless unspoken sorrows, the reunion finally came. But barely three minutes into her weeping, a single sentence from Li Xiaohao dragged her back to the cold reality. What to do about Xing'er’s innate bloodlust became the most agonizing issue.

“What do you think?” Yingzi didn't even look at Xiaohao, continuing to hold Xing'er, pressing her cheek against his small face as she whispered.

“Two options: either he follows you, or he follows me. If he follows you, you raise him your way. If he follows me, we go by my rules. The choice is yours,” Xiaohao said expressionlessly, as if whose care Xing'er fell under was merely an arithmetic problem—one plus one equals two, or one plus two equals three; writing the result meant full marks, with no need to consider any other aspects.

Yingzi looked up at the sky, and two scalding tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. Xiaohao’s words came so abruptly, utterly failing to acknowledge the pain Yingzi felt as his wife. Between the three of them, was it really just as simple as Xing'er following his father or following his mother? Perhaps he was born stripped of the capacity to love or be loved, and therefore incapable of understanding a partner’s feelings. If it were Xiao Shu now, how would she treat this situation? The warmth of the past surged back, as if only the residual heat lingering in her memory could offer Yingzi a sliver of pathetic comfort.

“Let Xing'er stay with me. He can feed on my blood, but besides me, he cannot take anyone else’s blood, or he will be punished.” Having said this, Yingzi gritted her teeth, scooped up Xing'er, and walked toward the cave. Ah Li, seeing Xing'er being carried away, trotted after them, occasionally glancing back at Xiaohao, who remained standing rooted to the spot.

Watching the backs of the three disappear behind the cluster of small trees at the mouth of the cave, Xiaohao let out a long sigh and sat down, leaning against the large tree. Da Mao, who had been waiting patiently high up in the branches, scampered down to Xiaohao in a few quick bounds, looking for all the world as if they were long-lost comrades reunited.

“You’ve had a hard time,” Xiaohao said, offering Da Mao a slight smile before turning his face away. He pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, extracted a stick, lit it, and took a deep, hard drag, exhaling rings of smoke to himself. The smoke rings drifted upward, growing from small to large, from dense to faint, one ring overlapping the next, shrouding everything in a hazy mist.

“What’s your next move? Is the quantity enough yet?” Da Mao suddenly spoke, just like a person.

“Not enough! The other side has made moves too. More and more undead bodies are active in the mortal realm; entire remote villages are being slaughtered. This means the resources we can utilize will dwindle,” Xiaohao stared blankly at the curling smoke rings, murmuring as if the creature squatting before him was not a monkey, but a trusted confidant.

“Understood. You focus on dealing with them. I will take good care of mother and child.” With that, Da Mao zipped up to the treetop and, with the other monkeys, scrambled deeper into the forest.

Xiaohao finished the remaining half of his cigarette alone beneath the tree, stubbed out the butt, pushed through the undergrowth to the shore of the Sea of Specters, and with a single leap, plunged in. He swam with arrow-like speed, easily outpacing the ghost-fish surging toward him from all directions.