Autumn mornings were always bitterly cold. Mist hung thick in the air, and a heavy frost coated the ground beneath their feet.

Such weather called for thicker tights and boots—not garter stockings or delicate leather shoes. The maid followed half a step behind her master, black umbrella held respectfully overhead, as they entered the suburban cemetery.

No holidays, no Qingming Festival—just a hazy drizzle from a leaden sky. Few came to pay respects. The cemetery lay silent and desolate.

Lilith walked ahead without a word. The maid kept pace, umbrella tilted to shield her. The fog thickened.

They moved steadily forward, purpose clear in their steps. Turning down a narrow path between weathered headstones, they soon reached their destination and stopped in unison.

Before them stood an ordinary, unadorned gravestone. Fresh traces of burned joss paper lingered at its base, beside a withered bouquet of baby’s breath—petals scattered, stems brittle and dry.

“This is his grave,” Lilith murmured.

Jiang Jiu said nothing. She handed the umbrella to Lilith, then knelt slowly. Her fingers gently traced the cold stone, her gaze drifting across its surface until it settled on the black-and-white photo and the carved inscription.

A plain-faced young man smiled shyly into the camera—likely a graduation portrait, clad in academic robes, eyes still soft with youth.

Beneath it, simple words:

*In Loving Memory of Our Beloved Son, Ping’an.*

No embellishment. No further words. To bury one’s child… one of life’s cruelest sorrows. Perhaps his elderly parents had already gone numb the moment his ashes were sealed inside this narrow concrete box.

The maid lowered her eyes. She accepted the bouquet of yellow and white chrysanthemums from Lilith and placed it gently before the stone.

“Goodnight,” she whispered—just as she had the night she watched him die alone in that cramped rental room.

She rose slowly, reclaimed the umbrella, and nodded to the girl beside her. “Let’s go.”

“Mm.”

The cemetery mist swallowed their figures without a sound. Rain fell harder now. Droplets clung to the chrysanthemums like tears, trembling before they fell.

The story was over.

Something had left forever.

In the end… Jiang Jiu had only brought back his lifeless shell.

…

“So his death had nothing to do with the Chaos Witch, right?”

“Mm. The Witches—especially Chaos—would never bother with humans. To her, we’re just ants.”

“Then he died naturally?”

“Yes. I examined the vessel. Natural causes.”

“Then why was his room connected to Chaos Witch’s realm?”

“After his death, she likely saw value in the shell.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“…”

Silence settled.

Jiang Jiu returned to chiseling ice balls behind the bar. Since returning from the Chaos Witch’s realm—and facing the Old Ones—her body had grown frailer. The cemetery visit left her chilled; now, each strike of the chisel triggered a cough.

Lilith had crafted this vessel with deliberate whimsy: slender, pale, soft—adult curves paired with a faintly youthful face, and perpetually delicate health. Lady Witch seemed fond of sickly beauties. This body was essentially a modern Xi Shi: dizzy after light exertion, coughing at the slightest breeze or rain.

Perhaps she’d already seen Jiang Jiu as hers from the moment of creation.

Jiang Jiu set down the half-carved ice ball, coughed softly, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. She reached for the warm water waiting nearby and drank.

Her breathing steadied. She picked up the ice ball again—then paused, glancing at the girl seated at the bar.

“What are you still doing here?”

Casual. Blatantly dismissive.

Like a scumbag discarding someone once useless.

Just like that night at the bar.

But times had changed.

Lady Witch lifted her gaze. “Address me properly.”

Jiang Jiu froze. In an instant, her expression shifted—docile, obedient. “Master.”

Lady Witch gave a slight nod and returned to her book.

Jiang Jiu narrowed her eyes but said nothing, resuming her work. The bar fell quiet again—only the rustle of pages, the scrape of ice, and the occasional cough.

The warm water was nearly gone, yet the coughing persisted. Finally, Lilith looked up. “Make me a Witch’s Night.”

“…Yes, Master.”

The maid set down the ice ball and turned to gather shaker and spirits. Lilith’s eyes flicked toward her—then away. She forced herself back to the book, though the words now felt hollow.

She knew. Jiang Jiu knew too.

Witch’s Night required no ice.

Simple. Quick.

Soon, Jiang Jiu slid the glass across the bar. “Your Witch’s Night.”

No “Master” this time.

Lilith didn’t correct her. She sipped.

Familiar notes: aromatic, bitter, fresh mint, smoky whispers—like velvet darkness numbing the tongue.

Lilith closed her eyes. *Did I… go too far?*

Should she have given Jiang Jiu a sturdier frame? At least enough to withstand rain, wind, or chiseling ice without coughing herself raw.

A flicker of softness stirred.

She set the glass down, watching Jiang Jiu wipe glasses behind the bar. Should she adjust the vessel’s constitution…?

*Jingle.*

The door chimed. A girl in a light trench coat stepped in. Her eyes swept the room—lingered on Lady Witch—then landed on Jiang Jiu. A bright, guileless smile bloomed.

“Sister Jiu!”

Lady Witch blinked. *How did a mortal breach the ward? And… who is she calling?*

Ah. Only one here shares a name with wine.

…Wait.

*Wait??*

The girl slid onto a barstool like she belonged. Jiang Jiu leaned in warmly.

“Xiao Bai, you’re here?”

“Mm! The weird noises from next door finally stopped—I can sleep again!”

“Congratulations.”

“Hehe, all thanks to you, Sister Jiu! If you hadn’t helped, I’d never have known the neighbor… had passed. So scary!”

“No trouble at all.”

Jiang Jiu smiled, placed a cup of warm water before her. “This bar isn’t on any map. You must be tired. Rest a moment.”

“Thanks, Sister Jiu!”

“If you want to thank me, order something. Want me to fetch the menu?”

“No need! I’ll have what you recommended last time—the Witch…”

“Witch’s Night.”

“Yes! One Witch’s Night, please!”

“Coming right up.”

…

Lady Witch glanced at her own untouched Witch’s Night.

*Stiff.*

Her Enchanted Wand was truly stiff now.

When had Jiang Jiu even met this girl? A old saying surfaced: *A leopard can’t change its spots. For a scumbag, old habits die hard.* How could she charm someone so completely in mere days?

She felt numb. Utterly numb.

Even as Jiang Jiu escorted Xiao Bai—laughing, chatting—to the waiting taxi.

Something snapped.

When Jiang Jiu returned to clear the glass, Lady Witch’s voice was flat.

“Continue.”

“Chisel ice. Don’t stop. Until I say so.”

To her surprise, Jiang Jiu obeyed without protest. She chiseled until coughs wracked her frame—until Lilith could no longer bear it.

“Enough.”

Pale and shivering, the maid leaned across the bar, a teasing smile playing on her lips. Her whisper brushed Lilith’s ear:

“Lilith… did you get *jealous*… seeing me laugh with another girl?”

[To Be Continued]