A Shadow Among the Towers

Racing through the city on the Swift Star Wolf was a completely different experience from tearing through the wilderness. Buildings blurred past behind him, car after car was overtaken with casual ease, and every passerby they streaked by wore an expression that fell somewhere between outright terror and undisguised awe.

At a moment like this, utterly in his element — why would Mo Fan spare a single thought for whether he had a Summoned Beast permit for Hangzhou?

Every city had its regulations, of course. Summoned Beasts were prohibited from running through crowded urban streets to prevent unnecessary panic, with the sole exception of certain authorized personnel operating under government sanction.

Mo Fan had no interest in thinking about permits. He didn't believe anyone would actually be foolish enough to try stopping him — and besides, he was staying in the vehicle lane. No pedestrians harmed.

Once they reached the Yan'an Road area, he decided to dial things back. He dismissed the Swift Star Wolf, unfolded the wheelchair, scooped Xinxia into it, and settled into the easy pleasure of pushing her through the streets.

The afternoon weather had been lovely — no harsh sunlight, no overcast gloom, just a gentle autumn breeze that drifted across their faces every now and then. Perfect weather for a leisurely stroll, any girl would agree.

He bought Xinxia a hot drink. She cradled it in both hands, taking small sips every now and then. Her eyes moved over the street scene around them — the elegant shop windows, the things she liked, the things that caught her eye. The difficulty of getting around had always meant she rarely had chances like this, to simply wander through a busy district without destination or schedule. She never got that giddy, spontaneous pleasure other girls had — darting from boutique to boutique, trying on accessories, comparing choices. Her female friends were kind, and they cared for her genuinely, but not everyone could give that kind of time. The dense crowds, the overpasses with their endless steps, the layered floors of shopping malls — all of it was built as if she simply didn't exist.

Shopping with Mo Fan was a different matter entirely.

Hit a staircase? He simply picked her up — something Mo Fan never seemed to tire of. He'd steal a small advantage here and there while they were in the crowd, and the moment he saw Xinxia's entire face flush red with mortification, that shameless rogue looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

He picked out an outfit for her at a department store and pushed her over to the fitting rooms.

"I can manage on my own," Xinxia said, shutting him out and pulling the curtain closed.

"It's fine," Mo Fan replied, grinning without a shred of shame. "I really don't mind."

They'd both been at their respective schools for most of the past couple of years, their meetings growing increasingly sparse. It had been quite a while since he'd last conducted a thorough assessment of Xinxia's physical development — which, as her de facto older brother, was clearly a neglect of his duties.

Unfortunately, Xinxia, unlike Mo Fan, possessed something called dignity. No matter how earnestly he made his case, she flatly refused to let him help her change.

Standing was no difficulty for Xinxia. When she stood, her slender, delicate legs were, if anything, more exquisite than most — like works of art that had never once been marred.

Changing clothes, changing skirts — she'd been doing that herself since she was small.

Mo Fan had no particular eye for fashion; it was simply that one glimpse of a vintage-style ensemble had made him think immediately of Xinxia. She had that gentle, serene quality about her — something that felt like it belonged to a woman from another era. She'd look stunning in it, he decided on the spot. After that, the price didn't even cross his mind.

It was a long-sleeved, ribbon-waisted hanfu-style outfit, well-suited to the autumn chill. Unlike the sort of period-accurate costume that jarred with its antique accessories, this piece wove contemporary fashion into its traditional silhouette. On Xinxia, it looked completely natural — fresh, elegant without being stiff, stylish yet imbued with a deep, unhurried Chinese sensibility.

Satisfied by the sight of a Xinxia who seemed somehow renewed, Mo Fan went to pay.

After shopping came food. He found a restaurant on a high floor with a spectacular view.

Having money meant you could afford to be indulgent, and Mo Fan was no different from most nouveau riche — he loved the kind of place with sweeping floor-to-ceiling glass where the entire city spread out before you. He claimed a window seat, ordered a glass of cola — ahem, *wine* — with a beautifully turned-out woman seated across from him. They chatted and laughed; he made his customary advances as a matter of course; and the tension drained out of him completely.

Mo Fan had lived like a wild man in his time, and he knew the relentless danger that lurked beyond the Safe Zone. That made moments like this — quiet, sweet, and warm in the heart of the city — something he cherished more deeply than most people could understand.

Perhaps feeling the same peace, Xinxia turned those clear eyes on him. A trace of quiet reproach touched her lips. "Mo Fan — please don't leave the city so easily in the future, all right?"

"Don't worry about me. It really wasn't as dangerous as it sounds," he said, cracking a grin.

"I already heard about it from Ningxue," Xinxia said, pressing her lips into a small pout. She knew exactly what Mo Fan was doing.

"Oh... ah..." Mo Fan scratched the back of his head.

Mu Ningxue and Xinxia had always been close. It seemed Mu Ningxue had already given her a full account of everything that had happened during the Field Expedition — which meant every reassuring thing Mo Fan had said earlier had been a complete waste of breath.

*Next time: before lying, check first whether wife number one and wife number two have already compared notes.*

Not wanting to continue down that road, Mo Fan turned toward the window, hoping to redirect her attention.

The building was tall enough that even the towers rising on every side could not interrupt the restaurant's panoramic view.

Beyond the dazzling neon-lit silhouettes of the skyline, West Lake lay in the middle distance — serene and undisturbed, as it had been for more centuries than anyone could count. He'd apparently been spending too much time around water lately, because the moment he saw the city's glittering lights mirrored across the lake's surface, his mind went straight to a horde of ugly lizards.

To the left stood a bank tower. Its entire frame was angular and broad-bladed, like a thick sword, its facade bathed in silver-white LED light. A pointed dome of tempered glass crowned its summit. From Mo Fan's vantage point, he could look straight through the dome at an angle and make out a tastefully appointed rooftop pool inside.

The pool was clearly private — within it, only a handful of women in rather appealing swimwear.

Directly ahead and slightly right rose an international five-star hotel — one of the tallest buildings in this part of the city. As a luxury establishment with an unobstructed view of West Lake, it was doubtless famous throughout Hangzhou.

From this height, the full grandeur of the edifice was laid out before him, rising magnificently from the city's beating heart.

"Strange — we walked right through that area earlier." Mo Fan had finally found something to redirect Xinxia's attention. He pointed at a dark, towering shape standing between the bank skyscraper and the five-star hotel. "What's that building?"

Xinxia turned to look, a trace of puzzlement in her eyes.

"No lights on — could it be newly built?" Mo Fan added.

Xinxia shook her head. "I was near here not long ago. I don't remember seeing it..."

As they kept looking, the expression on Xinxia's face shifted. She turned back to him, wearing a look that seemed almost embarrassed by her own conclusion. "Mo Fan... I don't think that's a building."

"Not a building?" Mo Fan blinked.

He looked again — more carefully this time, reaching out with his Mental Intent. One second later, he went completely rigid.

Slowly, shock spread across his face. And as the shape came into sharper focus, that shock curdled into something darker — fear, mounting with every increment of clarity, until it reached a pitch that could go no higher.

…

The dark shape rising from Hangzhou's busy heart — the one that loomed there like a building — was slowly turning around.

As if… as if it had sensed their gaze, and was turning to look back.

It turned. Really, truly, unmistakably turned.