For the love of all that was holy, I could not find it in my heart to shatter either woman’s resolve, so I chose what I thought was the most logical path.

  “How about we ask Xue Hai?” I suggested carefully.

  The little girl froze mid-chew as every pair of eyes turned toward her. She frowned, grabbed another sweet bun in a panic, and promptly ducked under the table as if hiding from heavenly tribulation.

  Meng Rong immediately turned on me. “What are you talking about? Are you insane?”

  Zhu Shufen followed with equal fury. “She’s a child. She cannot possibly decide what is good for her, and you want to push that responsibility onto her?”

  Meng Wu cleared his throat theatrically, joining the assault. “Yes, what exactly are you thinking, Yakuza Man? That is an incredibly irresponsible proposal.”

  Any fragile brotherhood forged in the bathhouse evaporated on the spot.

  I turned to him with a challenging look. “Do you have a better idea?”

  He smirked as though he had been waiting for that question. “If we asked Xue Hai whom she wished to stay with, she would answer based on the limited impressions she has gathered during her short time with us. Following that logic, she would naturally be more inclined to choose Zhu Shufen over my sister.”

  At his words, Zhu Shufen’s triumphant expression faltered for just a second, as though she realized my suggestion might have been less dangerous than his reasoning.

  Meng Wu continued smoothly. “My elder sister would never accept such a result. She would immediately invalidate Zhu Shufen’s claim using her superior knowledge of mysticism and cultivation. Even if Zhu Shufen gained custody, Meng Rong would undoubtedly employ any means necessary to reclaim the ‘Meteor Child,’ perhaps even going so far as kidnapping.”

  Meng Rong’s eyes flashed. “How dare you accuse me of something so vile?”

  Meng Wu’s expression hardened into that of a lord addressing court. “You are still my sister, and I know you. My understanding of cultivators is not limited to blood relations either. The fact that you cannot strike me down because we share blood is something I am fully prepared to take advantage of. I speak not out of false courage but conviction. It would be a mistake to give Xue Hai to you.”

  The air tightened.

  “Ultimately,” he continued, “she is nothing but the ‘Meteor Child’ in your eyes. What about Xue Hai herself? The person inside that title? You have neglected that point entirely, and for that, I am disappointed.”

  Meng Rong visibly flinched.

  Zhu Shufen, on the other hand, looked vindicated.

  Meng Wu pressed on without mercy. “Reason dictates that Xue Hai should remain with those capable of raising her properly. Unfortunately, that is not you.”

  Meng Rong straightened, her voice sharpening. “I can raise her perfectly well. My master raised me alone, taught me cultivation, and look at where I stand now.”

  “But you are not your master,” Meng Wu replied evenly. “And you and Xue Hai are not the same person. Your master accepted you as a disciple. What would Xue Hai be to him?”

  “I will make my master accept her as a disciple,” Meng Rong shot back.

  Meng Wu shook his head, delivering what felt like the final blow. “Even then, your master would continue to see her primarily as the Meteor Child. That is how cultivators think. Titles, destinies, calamities, opportunities. Rarely do they see the person beneath.”

  He placed a hand over his chest, voice steady.

  “I have decided. I will take her in as my daughter. I am Xue Hai’s father, and that is final.”

  Meng Rong turned to me as if asking for reinforcements.

  That was unfortunate, because I’d rather not lie to her.

  “I agree with Meng Wu,” I said honestly. “From a moral standpoint, they make a compelling point. This is a child we are talking about. Tell me, do you know what to do if she wants to play? You would probably assign her a babysitter like Tao Yu. How can you even trust her solely based on my recommendation? And what if it were not Tao Yu?”

  Meng Rong opened her mouth, but I continued before she could interrupt.

  “Let’s talk about something more fundamental. What kind of food is best for a growing child? How many hours of sleep does she need to develop properly? What if she falls sick? What if she throws a tantrum because she wants candy instead of vegetables? These are not matters you can solve with cultivation manuals.”

  Meng Rong crossed her arms. “If she cultivates, she will no longer need such mundane concerns.”

  I shook my head slowly. “You know you are just being stubborn, right? If you take Xue Hai now, you would be taking away her childhood.”

  Her brows tightened.

  “No offense,” I added, softening my tone, “and I know I am not entirely qualified to say this. You had a rough start. A terrible childhood. You survived by sheer luck and grit. But Xue Hai did not. When a gentler path is available to her, why not let her walk it first? She is still so young.”

  I gestured toward the table. “There are so many delicious dishes here, yet she keeps eating sweet buns as if they are the greatest treasure in the world.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  As if on cue, a small hand slid out from under the table and snatched another bun.

  I sighed, plucked a roasted duck drumstick from a platter, crouched slightly, and handed it beneath the table. A tiny hand accepted it after a moment of hesitation.

  “When she is old enough to make her own decision,” I finished, “you can ask her again. At that point, the responsibility will be hers. Please do not take that choice away from her.”

  Silence settled over the gazebo.

  Meng Rong’s expression slowly softened. There was conflict in her eyes, but also reluctant understanding.

  “I only wanted to take her for her own safety,” she said quietly. “But since all of you are so firmly set in your ways… fine.”

  Before anyone could react further, Xue Hai crawled out from under the table, cheeks puffed slightly from chewing.

  She walked straight toward me.

  Then she patted my shoulder and announced, “I want to go with him.”

  Zhu Shufen looked as though she had just been stabbed in the back.

  Meng Wu pressed a hand to his face in disbelief.

  Meng Rong frowned deeply.

  She let out a small scoff. “Where is the moral standpoint in that?”

  From that point onward, everything dissolved into chaos.

  Voices overlapped. Accusations resurfaced. Zhu Shufen demanded sense. Meng Rong demanded destiny. Meng Wu attempted mediation and failed spectacularly. In the middle of it all, the smallest person at the table stood firm.

  “I am coming with him,” Xue Hai declared stubbornly. “It’s decided. Father, tell them about it.”

  Meng Wu straightened, clearly ready to capitalize on the situation. “As you can see—”

  “Not you,” Xue Hai cut him off.

  I grimaced. “Please, spare me.”

  She ignored my plea entirely. With alarming determination, she climbed onto my lap, stepped on the wooden brace of my chair, and then clambered onto the table itself. Before anyone could stop her, she seized the last remaining duck drumstick and raised it high like a ceremonial scepter.

  Her demeanor changed.

  The meek child vanished, replaced by something theatrical and strangely authoritative.

  “I, Xue Hai,” she proclaimed in an exaggerated childish tone that somehow carried weight, “mandate that you shall care for me, protect me, and provide me love—”

  Thunder cracked across the sky.

  Every head snapped upward.

  “With the authority bestowed upon me by the Heavenly Dao,” she finished dramatically, “I declare you my father!”

  For a brief moment, nobody moved.

  Then I felt it.

  A burning sensation flared around my wrist.

  I looked down.

  Around my wrist, the thin band of moon and stars that symbolized the Binding Vow glowed faintly. Circling it now was something new: a small shooting star etched in light, looping around the constellation like a bracelet.

  The mark of the Meteor Child.

  Meng Rong yelped.

  I turned to see her clutching her own wrist, the same shooting star circling her mark as well. Whatever had just occurred had extended to her through the Binding Vow between us.

  This was getting ridiculous.

  Xue Hai lowered the drumstick slightly and continued, her voice echoing with faint reverberation that did not belong to a child.

  “I’ve come to this world with a mission, and it’s… it’s…”

  She blinked.

  “Erm… I forgot.”

  The strange presence evaporated. She returned to her usual timid self, looking genuinely puzzled.

  “I think it has something to do with saving the world,” she added uncertainly.

  I stared at her. “You are not inspiring confidence.”

  She attempted to climb down from the table but quickly realized she had no idea how to descend with dignity. I caught her by the waist and lifted her down before she could faceplant into destiny.

  I sighed.

  She immediately grabbed an entire tray of sweet buns and ran off as if none of that had happened.

  We all watched her go.

  There was definitely something wrong with that child, and not just the dramatic Heavenly Dao proclamation.

  Meng Wu cleared his throat. “Should we continue eating?”

  Zhu Shufen pushed back her chair, looking deeply unsettled. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  She walked away, shoulders stiff.

  “I will go after her,” Meng Wu said quickly, hurrying after his wife.

  That left only Meng Rong and me in the gazebo, surrounded by half-eaten dishes and the faint smell of roasted duck.

  I broke the silence first. “What now?”

  She looked down at her glowing wrist. “I suppose we now have custody of the Meteor Child.”

  “I still stand by what I said earlier,” I replied. “How about you start by calling her Xue Hai?”

  She looked faintly guilty. “Yes. I will do that. I will go after the Meteor— I mean, Xue Hai. I will go after her and interrogate her about what just happened.”

  “You mean ask her gently, right?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “I’m not coming.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The agreement—”

  “Forget the agreement. I am hungry.”

  She hesitated, then relented. “Only this time. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  She left at last.

  Yes.

  Finally.

  Privacy.

  After days of being monitored like a dangerous artifact, shadowed like a criminal on probation, and dragged into moral debates about parenthood and destiny, I was alone in the gazebo.

  I picked up my chopsticks and began eating in earnest.

  The food had gone slightly cold, but that hardly mattered. By cultivation standards, this was mortal cuisine, lacking spiritual herbs, lacking qi-infused meats, lacking anything remotely celestial. Yet it was rich in the ways that mattered to someone who had once been painfully human.

  The roasted duck still glistened under a thin lacquer of honey glaze, its skin crisp and slightly caramelized, the fat rendered just enough to melt against the tongue. The flesh beneath was tender, juicy, and faintly smoky, seasoned with five-spice and something citrusy that cut through the grease.

  There was a clay pot of braised pork belly, the layers distinct and trembling, alternating stripes of meat and translucent fat stewed in soy, rock sugar, ginger, and star anise. The sauce clung thickly to the rice when I scooped it over, staining the white grains a deep amber.

  A plate of stir-fried greens, simple bok choy with garlic, added crunch and freshness, the stems snapping lightly between my teeth.

  There was also steamed river fish topped with scallions and shredded ginger, drizzled in hot oil that had been poured at the last second, releasing a fragrant hiss that lingered even now.

  I ate carefully with my chopsticks, still slightly clumsy but far more practiced than when I first arrived in this world. I no longer fumbled every other bite. I no longer felt the urge to stab the food like it had personally offended me.

  “This is the stuff,” I muttered in satisfaction.

  A little privacy did wonders for the mind.

  Between bites, I leaned back slightly and spoke inwardly.

  “Hey, Yakuza Man inside me. Do you want to use your thirty minutes? Or maybe just a few of them to try this food? This might be your only chance.”

  I waited.

  No response.

  I made a show of it, deliberately savoring the pork belly, closing my eyes as I chewed slowly.

  “At least taste it. Being alive feels good. It’s the little things that make it worthwhile, you know?”

  Silence lingered for a few seconds longer.

  “You really get it, huh?”

  I froze.

  That was not the voice I was expecting.

  When I opened my eyes, someone was sitting across from me.

  A handsome young man with short dark hair over his head, dressed in immaculate white robes trimmed with gold. His features were sharp yet playful, and there was a permanent curve to his lips that suggested he knew far more than he let on.

  He rested his chin on one hand, watching me like I was the entertainment.

  He smiled.

  “Nice to meet you. My name is Da Wei. I’m the one who sent you here.”

  My brain stalled.

  He continued casually, as if asking about the weather.

  “Now then, let’s talk business. What’s your type of woman?”

  I stared at him.

  Wait a second.

  Who the hell was this weirdo?