An Luo sat at his desk, pondering a serious question:
How much would it cost to buy Mei Xiu’s manor?
Though he didn’t know the exact price, a rough calculation told him it would be an astronomical figure.
He picked a conservative estimate and did some simple math. Even with his current income, it would take about ten lifetimes to afford it.
It was like someone in the modern world with a few hundred thousand in savings trying to buy a mansion in the capital priced in the billions.
Full of the beauty of overreaching ambition.
Even stepping back, even if An Luo could afford it, Mei Xiu might not be willing to sell.
According to Mei Xiu himself, plus what An Luo had learned later, the Iris Flower Manor had been in terrible shape when he bought it. The exterior looked decent, but the interior decorations had nearly been stripped bare, and with the original owner Xielinde unable to maintain it, it was even more dilapidated and miserable.
But An Luo had lived there for a while and saw no signs of its former decay—it was a mansion piled high with gold and jade.
The soft furnishings and fixtures were all impeccable, and the money spent must have been another astronomical sum.
An Luo figured he couldn’t even cover a fraction of the renovation costs.
Buying was definitely out.
What about renting?
With so many rooms in the manor, renting just a corner should be feasible, right?
But would Mei Xiu agree to rent?
Probably not. He wasn’t short on cash and only planned to stay a few years, yet he was willing to pour a fortune into making it comfortable. Even if An Luo offered hefty rent, it probably wouldn’t mean much to him.
So what now?
An Luo racked his brains and soon came up with an idea: he could use the Invisibility Rune to sneak in every few days for a stay. But that had its limits and risked discovery.
Maintaining such a large manor required many servants. During his stay, An Luo noticed that even the shadowy, overlooked corners were spotless and dust-free. The servants moved like ghosts, clearly well-trained.
Sneaking in rashly would get him caught easily.
But hadn’t Mei Xiu said he’d only stay a few years?
Once he left, An Luo might have his chance.
Thinking that way, the future looked bright.
Yet he was already getting impatient.
Starve long enough, and the hunger fades into numbness. But take one bite, and it surges back fiercer than ever. Right now, An Luo craved seeing Meieruita.
He was weighing the feasibility of the Invisibility Rune and plotting an operation to avoid detection when a messenger from the publisher arrived with a new box of letters.
An Luo wasn’t the top-selling author—just scraping into second-tier—but his genre drew a lot of fan mail.
“Thanks, you’ve worked hard.”
The delivery boy was young, his face still boyish, his clothes oversized and ill-fitting. An Luo poured out some almond candy, wrapped it up, and handed it over. The boy thanked him profusely and left beaming.
Almond candy was valuable; even resold, it fetched good money. Publisher staff fought to deliver to An Luo, and beyond the perks, they genuinely liked him.
An Luo hadn’t felt like reading letters, but one particularly thick envelope caught his eye.
In the neatly stacked box, it stood out.
Wasn’t Mei Xiu’s last letter just as thick?
Hopeful, An Luo pulled it out, flipped it over, and sure enough—it was from Mei Xiu.
He grabbed his letter opener and tore it open eagerly.
This time, Mei Xiu skipped analyzing An Luo’s plots. Instead, he described a recent hunt and shared others’ opinions of An Luo he’d overheard.
At the end, he expressed deep regret: he felt a strong rapport with An Luo and wished he could invite him to the manor more or join outings, if only An Luo weren’t in poor health.
An Luo hadn’t expected his “frail invalid” persona to boomerang like this.
Damn it, I’m perfectly healthy!
Finally, since An Luo had claimed frailty requiring quiet recovery—no direct mail, all routed through the publisher for occasional batches when he felt up to it—Mei Xiu had no choice but to comply, though he clearly pressed them.
An Luo noticed the irregular delivery times lately, and whenever they were off, Mei Xiu’s letter was tucked in.
[Though we differ on some plot analyses, I’m still an admirer. Might I have the privilege of direct correspondence? I promise not to reveal the secret.]
Before, An Luo would’ve refused flat-out.
But now… he needed a favor, eyeing the manor. After a moment’s thought, he agreed.
If he built a good rapport with Mei Xiu, maybe he’d get permission?
So he started drafting a reply.
Mei Xiu received it during a banquet at the Iris Flower Manor.
To play the full role, he was now an ordinary noble. Though he’d changed names, he couldn’t afford slips that might alert this world’s will.
He sat in the dining room, faintly hearing music and chatter from the hall beyond the wall—muffled and indistinct.
Mei Xiu had no interest in noble revelry. He’d set things up for the first banquet; now he hosted without needing to schmooze personally.
On the long white table, candelabras stood at intervals. Overhead, candles flickered in the chandelier, their light refracted brilliantly by the crystals.
Mei Xiu stared at the letter for a bit, then smiled.
He plucked a candle from the nearest stand and slowly heated the wax seal. As it warmed, the wax softened, dripping red onto the tablecloth along the envelope’s edge.
The single thin sheet unfolded; he read it several times, his smile widening.
The banquet raged on in the hall. Mei Xiu left the dining room, gliding through the crowd to the balcony. No one noticed him passing, as if invisible.
The balcony bloomed with flowers, their cool scent filling the air. A couple murmured sweet nothings there; Mei Xiu waved them off, and they left automatically.
Leaning on the railing, he gazed at the starry sky. In the early spring chill, the floral aroma turned crisp. He plucked a flower—its white petals crowded tight. His face expressionless, he tore them off one by one, tossing them down. When only the bare stem and quivering core remained, he stared a moment, then discarded it all.
How foolish, he thought, plucking petals. He’d seen at a glance it had an even number—so place the undesired wish first, and you’d get the answer you wanted.
Recalling An Luo’s recent behavior, resentment lingered, but hope dawned.
Letting emotions rule was stupid. Beyond venting rage, it gained nothing and risked worsening things—a lesson learned young.
He recalled the plot An Luo shared: after nearly being enslaved by the Ancient Wizard, Traveler Meieruita lay low, grew strong, then spent two centuries exploiting him before revenge.
Mei Xiu thought, That’s exactly what I’d do.
The hall’s music shifted amid laughter and talk. Mei Xiu lowered his eyes, remembering An Luo’s “overbearing CEO novels” for survival.
Imprisonment, forceful seizure, binding freedom.
Tempting enough to unleash three years of frustration, hatred, and regret—but foolish.
If Traveler Meieruita could suppress vengeance and consort with his near-captor for two centuries before striking, why couldn’t he endure a few years?
Once An Luo was fully trapped, unable to escape, he’d settle scores with him and his “dear mother”—stroke by stroke, meticulously, bit by bit.
Mei Xiu snapped another flower; his emerald eyes noted its odd-numbered petals. He ripped them all off at once with his right hand and flung them out like fresh snowflakes.
The next day, An Luo got a reply—thick envelope, pointed ends, bulging middle, lemon-shaped from the side.
Inside, a stack of paper with red ink in ornate noble script on white—beautiful like flowers blooming on the page.
An Luo disliked it; cursive script took effort to parse, pretty but not skimmable. He wanted to know what Mei Xiu wrote fast.
Patiently, word by word, he read the long letter—mostly dull to him. How did Mei Xiu have so much to say?
Finally finished: no invitation to the manor. Disappointing, but An Luo figured rapport could build over time.
His motives impure, he didn’t question Mei Xiu’s eagerness. Under the Authority of the Creator, everyone he’d met these three years was kind and tolerant, forming a bias—Mei Xiu must be influenced too.
He exhaled slowly, weighing options. The frail persona saved trouble but now blocked him. Dropping it meant endless social whirl: banquets, book clubs, art salons—headache-inducing.
An Luo hesitated, but gray-green eyes flashed in his mind.
“…Fine, treat it like a job.”
Modern work had idiot bosses and colleagues; this was just a retro version.
A bit troublesome, but bearable.
With that, he reread Mei Xiu’s letter and penned a reply.
Their correspondence grew frequent. Mei Xiu’s letters were always thick and stuffed; An Luo had little to say but knew thin replies would irk him.
So he padded: larger handwriting, wider spacing—1.5 pages became two, two became four.
Mei Xiu might’ve noticed the trick, but said nothing.
Half a month of this, and An Luo itched to probe—but not bluntly beg a manor stay.
Remembering Mei Xiu’s white horse from their first meeting, inspiration struck.
[…How’s horseback riding? The white horse you rode when we first met was stunning…]
If invited to ride at the manor, he’d fake a fall.
Injuries took a hundred days; he could linger longer.
A bit shameless, but necessary.
An Luo didn’t care about his image in Mei Xiu’s eyes. A great noble with terrified servants surely had twists in mind.
He might peg An Luo as an opportunist author riding noble favor upward.
But An Luo didn’t care at all. Think whatever they wanted; it was irrelevant.
Mei Xiu understood the implication in An Luo’s words and replied with a straightforward invitation to ride horses at his manor. His tone carried a hint of teasing as he wrote: 【If you fall ill again, you can stay and keep me company. I live alone in the manor most of the time, and it’s quite lonely.】
Lonely?
With a huge manor full of servants and banquets held every few days, An Luo couldn’t imagine Mei Xiu being lonely. He dismissed it as mere politeness.
The next day, Mei Xiu sent his butler to pick An Luo up and take him to the manor.
The coachman drove from outside, and the carriage wheels rumbled over the uneven road.
Inside the carriage sat the butler in black. He left no particular impression on An Luo—plain and taciturn. Only as the carriage neared Iris Flower Manor did he speak flatly: “You look to be in good spirits today.”
An Luo’s heart skipped a beat.
Damn, he was too excited and forgot to pretend.
Would this butler report everything he observed to Mei Xiu?
An Luo forced a polite smile. “Yes, I feel pretty good.”
The black-clothed butler replied calmly, “That’s good.”
Iris Flower Manor lay on the edge of Kulte City and encompassed a vast swath of forest.
“This was why I insisted on buying this place back then,” Mei Xiu said. “Without the forest, living here would be quite inconvenient in many ways.”
The weather was fine that day. Mei Xiu wore riding attire that accentuated his upright figure, with tall boots encasing his calves. He looked like a knight of light or a prince from a fairy tale.
But An Luo had no mood to appreciate it. His mind was fully occupied with planning his next moves.
Mei Xiu led out two tall, massive horses, both purebred without a single stray hair.
They looked extremely expensive just at a glance.
An Luo had never ridden a horse before and had rarely been this close to such large animals. He felt a bit nervous, but the horses had gentle temperaments. They lowered their heads and nuzzled against An Luo’s hand.
An Luo boldly stroked one. The black horse snorted, startling him, but it showed no aggression.
Mei Xiu smiled. “It seems they all like you. That’s quite a fateful connection. My two horses usually have bad tempers.”
He stepped beside An Luo and asked, “Do you know how to ride?”
An Luo shook his head. “No.”
“No wonder.” Mei Xiu’s emerald eyes fixed on An Luo. “I think the main reason your health is poor is that you’re always cooped up at home. My butler reported to me about that tiny room of yours. Staying there long-term without going out to breathe fresh air—how could your body improve?”
He curved his lips into a smile. “The doctor says riding horses is good for the body. If you don’t mind, I’d like to invite you to stay here for a while. My manor has a nice wooded area, perfect for riding.”
“Besides, look how much they like you. If you leave too soon, they’ll be heartbroken.”
An Luo hadn’t expected Mei Xiu to say this. He was thrilled—it aligned perfectly with his goals. He pretended to hesitate before saying, “Sure, I’d be happy to. Thank you.”
Great, no need to fake a fall!
“No need to be so polite,” Mei Xiu said. “We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“I’m always very concerned about my friends.”
An Luo didn’t know how to ride, so Mei Xiu taught him step by step. The process wasn’t difficult, mainly because the horse An Luo rode was exceptionally docile.
“Quite rare. Angus really likes you.”
Mei Xiu didn’t mount his horse. Instead, he walked beside the black horse, leading it slowly so An Luo could get used to it.
An Luo was tense at first but gradually relaxed.
The black horse named Angus moved with exceptional steadiness, and An Luo loosened up.
Mei Xiu then mounted the white horse. The two rode slowly along the forest path. Sunlight filtered through the dappled leaves, casting fragmented golden spots that danced across their bodies.
“Feeling alright?” Mei Xiu asked gently.
An Luo replied, “I feel great.”
“So, you’re sincerely willing to stay for a while?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d love to.”
“How could I mind?” Mei Xiu’s words synced with the clip-clop of hooves. “My manor is so vast it’s almost empty. Living here alone gets a bit lonely.”
An Luo couldn’t help asking, “Don’t you have the butler? And all those servants?”
Mei Xiu glanced at him, his emerald eyes holding a meaningful glint. He said lightly, “How could they count as people?”
“If I have worries or want someone to chat with, I can’t turn to them. It would only demean my status.”
“So overall, I’m still quite lonely.”
An Luo: “…”
An Luo: “…………”
Damn, what an obnoxious feudal noble mindset!
He recalled the black-clothed butler and realized he had little impression beyond the color of his clothes. Could Mei Xiu have specially trained him to be that way?
Moreover, the manor was spotlessly clean and beautifully maintained, yet An Luo hadn’t seen a single servant.
Right then, he heard Mei Xiu say, “To keep them out of my sight, I had extra paths built exclusively for the servants, separated from the main manor. It took extra time, but the effect is excellent—no annoying footsteps to hear.”
An Luo wasn’t sure what expression he wore, but it certainly wasn’t approval.
Mei Xiu seemed to notice An Luo’s disapproval and smiled faintly. “You disagree with my views? Actually, plenty of people call me extreme. But I don’t understand—why do some like being surrounded by attendants? It’s so crowded, isn’t it?”
An Luo replied dryly, “Uh, it’s your preference. I have no right to interfere.”
“Of course you do.” Mei Xiu’s eyes crinkled. “If you want, I can have a few servants serve openly.”
“Better not.” An Luo refused immediately.
“So decisive? Looks like we share some interests after all.”
An Luo: “…”
Fine, whatever you say.
Since he needed a favor, An Luo didn’t want to oppose Mei Xiu.
After riding a loop, An Luo said, “Since I’m staying for a bit, I should head home later to pack my luggage and bring some spare clothes.”
“No need.”
Mei Xiu said, “A tailor will come later. I was going to order some new clothes, but since you’re here, he can make a few for you too.”
An Luo wanted to decline. “Doesn’t making clothes take a long time?”
“He has ready-made garments.” Mei Xiu’s tone was gentle but firm. “Just take measurements, and he’ll alter them quickly. They should arrive before dinner.”
An Luo mentally calculated his savings. Even if noble clothes like Mei Xiu’s were pricey, a few outfits shouldn’t bankrupt him. “Alright, thanks.”
“No need to thank me.”
They dismounted and returned the horses to the stable before entering the manor.
“Please excuse me,” Mei Xiu said. “I need to change.”
An Luo watched him leave, then looked around. To his delight, Meieruita’s phantom reappeared.
He sat at a table with a notebook open before him, writing furiously.
An Luo walked over without hesitation and sat beside him. “Long time no see. How have you been?”
Naturally, Meieruita’s phantom continued writing, ignoring An Luo and not even glancing up.
But An Luo didn’t mind. He gently patted the phantom’s arm, feeling deeply satisfied.
