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A gentle breeze brushed past, carrying the crisp, distinctive scent of Spirit City…
Pedestrians flowed like slender streams from alleyways into the main street.
Vendors lifted steamer lids, releasing clouds of fragrant vapor—warm buns and mantou filling the air with their inviting aroma.
From the blacksmith's shop came rhythmic clangs of hammer on anvil, sparks occasionally leaping through gaps in the doorway curtain.
A peddler pushed his creaking wooden cart down the lane, calling out fresh fruits and vegetables for sale…
Dai Chengfeng walked along the street. After leaving Liu Erlong's quarters, he'd intended to return directly to the Spirit Hall.
But as he passed the central plaza, his peripheral vision caught two vaguely familiar figures—and his steps slowed involuntarily.
One was stoutly built, his short red hair blazing like a flickering flame in the morning light. He strode with his usual boisterous swagger: none other than Ma Hongjun of the Shrek Seven Monsters.
It had been a while since they'd last met, and the plump youth seemed even stockier now—though his irreverent, carefree demeanor remained unchanged.
But it was the person beside him who made Dai Chengfeng pause.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
That figure was almost unnaturally slender—so much so that "youth" no longer seemed an apt description.
Dressed in simple blue training attire, the fabric clung softly to his form, cinching his waist to an almost impossible slenderness—as if one hand could encircle it completely.
His long hair, deep indigo verging on black, was loosely tied back at the nape, with stray strands escaping to frame his pale cheeks, fluttering gently in the breeze.
From the side, his eyelashes looked too long, too delicate for any man, casting fine fan-like shadows beneath his eyes.
His nose was elegantly straight yet softly contoured—more like a masterfully carved sculpture than a natural feature.
His lips were a pale pink, like cherry blossoms at dawn, currently pressed together in quiet reserve.
It was Tang San.
And yet… not the Tang San Dai Chengfeng remembered.
The Tang San of memory had been handsome, yes—but with a clear masculine vigor in his brow, and a posture that, while not bulky, was upright and resolute.
This person before him now…
His skin was nearly translucent in the morning light, faint blue veins visible just beneath the surface.
The lines of his profile held no sharp angles—only gentle curves, his jawline as refined as fine porcelain.
His neck was slender and graceful, reminiscent of a swan's, his Adam's apple almost invisible—only detectable upon the closest inspection as the faintest bump beneath smooth skin.
Even his gait was light, almost floating, with an unconscious sway—not affected, but born of an innate softness woven into his very bones.
Dai Chengfeng shook his head, a strange mix of absurdity and unease rising within him.
"The power of the Great Rejuvenation Pill Pill… truly exceeded even my expectations," he murmured under his breath, his tone laced with quiet astonishment.
He had meant to ignore them and walk away—but then Ma Hongjun's voice drifted over on the wind, fragmented yet unmistakable:
"Xiao San, come on! For old times' sake—just let me kiss you once!"
The words were thick with wheedling affection and a barely concealed eagerness, as if something restless stirred deep within him.
Dai Chengfeng halted mid-step.
Tang San's reply followed immediately—his voice softer than Dai Chengfeng recalled, clear yet imbued with a liquid warmth. Now it carried embarrassment and reluctant exasperation:
"Fatty, stop fooling around. I'm still a man."
"A man?"
Ma Hongjun leaned closer, lowering his voice—but Dai Chengfeng's hearing was sharp enough to catch every word.
"Look at yourself—big eyes, long lashes, skin whiter than snow, and your Adam's apple's practically vanished. Where do you look like a man?"
Tang San seemed momentarily speechless. After a long pause, he finally retorted in a hushed, flustered tone—tinged with a hint of panic:
"I—I practice a unique cultivation technique…"
"Unique enough to make you grow more and more like a girl?"
Ma Hongjun chuckled—a low, suggestive sound laced with something else entirely.
He reached out as if to sling an arm around Tang San's shoulders, fingers nearly brushing that delicate frame.
"Come on, bro—just a little peck! Look at that pretty face of yours… it makes my heart itch…"
"No."
Tang San stepped back half a pace. Yet there was little real anger in his voice. "If you keep this up, I'll tell Boss Dai."
"Boss Dai?" Ma Hongjun scoffed, undeterred, pressing closer again until his round body nearly touched Tang San's arm. "He's got no time for us these days. All he does is train—waiting for the day he beats that Dai Chengfeng…" He grinned. "Heh."
He paused, then dropped his voice even lower—now dripping with unmistakable intimacy:
"Don't be shy, Xiao San. We're practically brothers… just try it. You won't lose anything…"
Hearing this exchange, Dai Chengfeng's eye twitched almost imperceptibly.
Without another glance, he turned and left the plaza, but the sense of absurdity inside him only deepened—like ink spilled in water, impossible to dissolve.
Tang San and Ma Hongjun?
It was a pairing he'd never imagined—almost laughably inconceivable.
Not that Ma Hongjun harbored any profound feelings…
The chubby boy had always fancied pretty girls, though his standards were high, and despite his flirtatious mouth, he rarely dared cross real boundaries.
Now, with Tang San transformed into this ethereal, feminine beauty, it wasn't entirely shocking that Ma Hongjun's thoughts had strayed.
After all, the boy had never been one for rigid propriety.
But Tang San's reaction…
Dai Chengfeng recalled that fleeting glimpse.
Though Tang San pushed him away, there was no true fury—despite possessing strength enough to repel not ten, but a hundred Ma Hongjuns if he wished.
That half-hearted resistance… that bashful hesitation bordering on invitation…
Dai Chengfeng paused again, a thought surfacing—one so bizarre even he found it hard to believe:
Could the Great Rejuvenation Pill Pill alter not just the body… but temperament itself?
He shook his head firmly, suppressing the notion.
Perhaps Tang San was simply caught off guard. Or perhaps he hesitated out of loyalty—unwilling to humiliate a brother, even in jest.
After all, the bond among the Shrek Seven Monsters ran deep.
Regardless, it was their affair.
Dai Chengfeng steeled his focus, banishing the tangled thoughts from his mind, and continued toward the towering spires of the Spirit Hall.
The sun climbed higher, casting his tall silhouette long across the stone path.
By the time he returned, the day was well advanced.
Golden sunlight bathed the Spirit Hall's majestic structures—white marble walls gleaming brilliantly, needle-like spires piercing the heavens like the watchful eyes of gods gazing down upon mortal realms.
Dai Chengfeng passed through courtyard after courtyard, walking down shaded corridors deeper into the complex.
Guards and maidservants bowed respectfully as he passed; he gave slight nods in acknowledgment but never broke stride.
At last, he arrived at his private courtyard.
A few aged phoenix trees stood within, their trunks thick, their canopies broad and leafy.
It was early summer—their foliage lush and vibrant, rustling softly in the breeze.
Beneath the trees sat a stone table and chairs, the tabletop a single slab of polished bluestone, smooth as a mirror.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, dancing gently across the ground—peaceful, serene.
Dai Chengfeng settled into a stone chair and reached for the purple clay teapot on the table, pouring himself a cup of cool tea.
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