What use do I have for this steel blade?

As the saying goes, if you walk the night road long enough, you’re bound to run into ghosts. Bai Haonan, who’d always been the hunter, had finally become the prey. Yisha really had drawn that gleaming steel blade and laid it by the haystack—she was ready for another round, but for now, he had to admit defeat and accept the consequences.

But the big trouble she spoke of was surely more than just whether he admitted it or not.

From the very next morning, a gaggle of young men and women began shadowing Bai Haonan, helping Yisha keep an eye on him wherever he went. No matter where he tried to go, he was surrounded by this boisterous crowd, who made no attempt to hide the tall, strapping outsider in their midst. Whenever any local cast a questioning glance on the street, they’d announce with enthusiasm, “This is Yisha’s Ah Zhu!”

Yisha, clinging to Bai Haonan’s arm, whispered, “Ah Zhu means lover, or husband.”

Bai Haonan grimaced. “I never went to school, but I know a lover is a lover, a husband is a husband!”

Yisha replied with languid confidence, “In our view, a husband is a lover for life!”

What a romantic people!

Now Bai Haonan tried to pull Chen Sufen out as his shield. “I already have a girlfriend!” Chen Sufen was trailing at the back of the crowd, watching the spectacle with glee, convinced he had it coming.

She had no way to save him, so she figured he might as well learn a hard lesson—maybe a taste of his own medicine would set him straight. That was her resigned, desperate logic; she’d reached the point of fighting poison with poison.

But Yisha, glancing back, was surprisingly magnanimous. “That was your past. From now on, there will be no other girlfriends. Of course, if you want to be with other women, that’s fine. But then I can sleep with other men too. If you’re faithful, I’ll be faithful. No matter how many lovers either of us has, our relationship won’t change.”

Bai Haonan wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue. “Then let me go, will you? Why pick me of all people?”

Yisha stroked her pale cheek. “In our custom, a girl can have a lover from thirteen or fourteen, but I grew up in the inn listening to stories of you Han people, and I know how highly you value chastity. That’s why I’ve waited until now and taken such care with my looks—because I wanted to marry an outsider!”

Bai Haonan sighed. “What’s so great about the outside world? I think it’s much happier here…”

Yisha lowered her head, her voice softening. “Have you seen what women here are like when they grow old? I don’t want to spend decades squatting by the wall in the sun, nor do I want to spend my whole life toiling for a man.”

Indeed, a woman’s beauty on this land seemed to last only from her teens to her early twenties—a fleeting handful of years. After that, every season etched exhaustion and hardship upon their faces. Almost every woman bore the brunt of the labor, while the men lounged in the sun, unconcerned about giving up their place as head of the household. By the time the women, now heads themselves, stooped and aged at a furious pace, it was nothing short of cruel.

Bai Haonan felt his heart soften and hastily tried to deflect. “But I just want to hang out with women. Isn’t it fun to flirt around the inn? I don’t want to be tied down like this!”

Yisha was even more open-minded than he’d expected. “Exactly, if you want to have lovers everywhere, I don’t mind. If it comes to that, I’ll find lovers too. But you’ll still be the father of my children, no matter who I have them with…”

Oh, dear. Bai Haonan might not mind casual lovers, but being a father to another man’s child was a different matter—his face contorted with dismay. He was about to protest when a group of middle-aged women rushed out from the corner ahead, hands on their hips, hurling abuse at the young people, with several men following behind, slower but their faces livid with anger.

Bai Haonan couldn’t understand their language, but it was clear the tirade was aimed at him. He quickly turned to his newest girlfriend. “What are they saying?”

Yisha smiled serenely. “They’re saying, ‘Just you wait, we’ll cut you down soon…’” Her tone was as light as if she were talking about swatting a fly!

How many times since last night’s revelry had Bai Haonan been left dumbfounded? He nearly jumped. “Cut me down? Why?”

The young men and women encircling him and Yisha were mostly her siblings—whether by blood, by marriage, or through various complicated kinships he couldn’t guess. Now, they scattered, pushing Bai Haonan and Yisha to the center of the square.

Yisha, nonchalant as a mafia princess, drew another foot-long steel blade from her waistband and, from beneath her robe, handed the previous blade to Bai Haonan. “When I was little, I was promised to a man from a nearby village, but he’s become a good-for-nothing. I won’t let someone like that ruin my life, and all my siblings support me.”

After two days in this tourist town, Bai Haonan had recognized these straight-handled knives without guards as an essential item for men and women of this tribe. The one he now held was especially exquisite—shorter than Yisha’s, with a silver scabbard etched in intricate patterns, and a hilt wound with silver filigree, capped by a blood-red bead that looked expensive. Bai Haonan tried to refuse. “I’m not afraid of a fight, but I never use weapons.”

Yisha scoffed, “My man should be a true hero. Yesterday I saw you play ball, mess with things, sing and dance—you were man enough, and at night you satisfied me even more. But you can’t be a coward. We all fight with knives here…” With that, she tossed the sheathed blade into his arms and strode forward with her own weapon.

Truth be told, Bai Haonan was never the type for reckless heroics. Call him cunning or sly if you wish, but he wasn’t the kind to lose his head and throw his life away. A few seconds of hot-blooded impulse would only earn you a red card or worse. His indulgences were always calculated—something he’d known since childhood.

Why hadn’t he made a move on a girl as easy as Guo Xiaoxia? Because he knew she was untouchable.

Why smash a wine bottle at the banquet? Because he’d already decided to run.

On the field, he didn’t bother with unnecessary feints—why waste the effort? Scoring one more goal wouldn’t change the world for a small-timer like him. Society would never change because of people like him. Rather than get riled up and die for nothing, Bai Haonan would always choose to survive, slyly if he must, and seek out his own pleasures.

So even when it came to a fight, he’d only do enough to solve the problem without endangering himself. Anything else was senseless.

For a man barely educated, this was perhaps his only scientific principle.

But the figure ahead—her hair now styled in the tribe’s “mature woman” fashion, her sky-blue robe half open to reveal a worn shirt, sleeves rolled up for easier combat, a string of blood-red beads on her wrist—was different.

Bai Haonan glanced down; the bead on his knife matched hers, like a droplet of blood sprung from a fresh wound. Suddenly his heart began to race.

His blood was burning—boiling!

As a former professional athlete, he knew exactly what this rush of adrenaline meant. The team doctor had sometimes taught them, covertly or otherwise, how to harness this legally or illegally. But you had to beware of peaking too soon; like any drug, once the high wore off, your body would be twice as weak. If the match wasn’t over, you’d be left helpless on the field.

Now, though, Bai Haonan could feel every nerve in his body waking up. It wasn’t just the impending brawl, something he’d never experienced; it was also the slender figure before him.

This woman of his—at the very least, she was trying to break free of her shackles.

Whatever else, after a night together, he owed her enough to help sever those chains.

Bai Haonan weighed the weapon in his hand. It felt just right.