Xiao Yu and Wen Shu emerged from the well opening, their eyes slightly stung by the sunlight after spending so long underground. The courtyard was a wreck—strewn with licorice root, planks of wood, and vines—the remnants of the battlefield from Wang Jue and his group's last foray.

The main door of the wooden cabin hung ajar. Xiao Yu took three steps where two would suffice, rushing inside. The interior furniture was Spartan: a single aged wooden table and four long stools in the main room, and in the back room, only a bed and a five-drawer chest, **cleanly made up with blue-printed cloth bedding. The owner clearly led an extremely simple life here. Yet, he didn't know that when Wang Jue’s group first arrived, the back room was completely bare, save for a small door leading to the backyard, a door that Wang Jue had already pried open with a dagger.

At this precise moment, the entire room was vastly different from Wang Jue’s first visit; the small door was gone, the empty space filled, and the bed and chest had materialized at some unknown time. Still, these two items were crucial props—without them, how could Xiao Yu believe his mother had lived here? Wen Shu watched his look of tender solicitude and secretly smiled to herself, "The old Puppet King truly is no ordinary man."

"Those two elders just now, they must be surnamed Nangong, right?" Xiao Yu circled the back room, picking up ** the cup and taking a deep breath, inhaling the faint, lingering scent. "It seems they took excellent care of my mother. She often used to say that people don't need excessive wealth or power; as long as they navigate every gully that lies before them with a plain and smooth life, they can offer their thanks to Amitabha."

"Mmm, what Auntie said is absolutely right; simplicity is a blessing. The elders must be living very well here," Wen Shu concurred.

"They said she was at the threshing ground," Xiao Yu put down the bedding. "We haven't seen each other in so many years; I'm a little nervous, unsure what I should even say when I meet her!"

Hearing this, Wen Shu was suddenly reminded of her own parents. Decades had passed without a reunion; she wondered if the two octogenarians were still alive. If they saw her unaging, deathless form, they would surely be terrified.

"I think I'll go find her alone." Seeing Wen Shu gazing blankly at the bed, Xiao Yu knew she was likely thinking of her own parents. Fearing that witnessing a reunion might be too much for her to bear, triggering unbearable loss, he wanted to leave her in the cabin, sparing her that sorrowful touch.

"Mmm." Wen Shu nodded, thinking this suited her perfectly, and sat alone on ** the bed, urging Xiao Yu to hurry and fetch the elders back.

Having settled Wen Shu, Xiao Yu quickly left the room. As he walked out of the courtyard, he glanced back, noticing that the main door of the hall and the courtyard before him matched the scene he had dreamt in the Sea of the Departed almost exactly. An ominous premonition struck him head-on. Recalling Wang Jue's words from earlier, he slapped himself hard on both cheeks, but discovered nothing amiss. Still, he felt an unsettling unease; everything had come too easily. He couldn't just leave like this; he had to take one more look at Wen Shu, to see if she was truly alright.

Thus, Xiao Yu strode back with a few quick steps and pushed the door open again. Everything in the main room was as it had been, except for a dark stain of blood beneath the wooden table. He silently pondered when this blood might have appeared, and why he hadn't noticed it just moments before. Moving further into the back room, he was utterly stunned. In the span of these one to two minutes of going out and coming back in, the wooden bed, the chest, the ** bedding, and Wen Shu herself had all vanished. All that remained was the small door, split open with a fresh crack, swaying creakily in the slight breeze.