[This is the previously mentioned IF (What-If) storyline where Tun raises Ranran. It begins from the point in a past life where Tun fell into madness after losing Ranran. In this timeline, Tai Wu did not send Ranran away, and he was raised entirely by Tun. Because he loved him so deeply, he restrained himself and remained abstinent, refusing to cross the line before he grew up — a self-restrained adoptive father Tun x a spoiled and willful little fox spirit, Ran, who’s been pampered to the heavens.]
“Give Mi Jia to me.”
Hearing the gloomy voice outside the door that sounded like something from hell, Tai Wu didn’t dare to look up. He just hugged the pottery jar in his arms tremblingly and curled up under the bed.
Just a few months ago, the evil god who had captured and imprisoned him in this mountain village performed a horrible sacrifice on him. The villagers who surrendered to the evil god cut his wrists and put his blood in this pottery jar in his arms. He was ordered to hold it day and night and not to put it down no matter whether he ate, drank, defecated, or urinated. He said that his breath was used to nourish the spirit that descended into the jar during the sacrifice. Originally, the jar was sealed with locust wood and red mud. The evil god banned the villagers from peeking at the spirit in the jar, and no one told him what the spirit was. He insisted on using his blood to nourish it. Until a month ago, he had a dream at night. He dreamed that a small toddler crawled out of the jar in his arms, lying on him and calling him “father” softly. When he woke up, he still remembered clearly that the baby had a small red mole in the left corner of his eye, which was exactly the same as his biological son, who had not yet recognized him and was sent to the palace to be a court painter but never returned. It’s not that he didn’t look for him. He once chased his son all the way to the foot of the royal city and lingered outside the door leading to the sacred mountain every day, looking eagerly waiting. However, what he got was an earthquake in the sacred mountain, and the royal city collapsed. The river burst its banks at the foot of his sacred mountain and rushed outside the city, so he survived. When he woke up, the royal city had become a ruin, and there was no news of his son anymore, not even his body.
He had lived a cowardly life. His beloved, who was pregnant with his children, was taken away by someone else to be his concubine. He could not recognize the son he gave birth to, nor did he dare to recognize him. He finally found him, but in the end, he was unable to protect him. He had no desire to live and returned to the Mi family, which had become a haunted house, like a walking corpse. He wanted to set up a tablet for his son, but he never thought that he would encounter an evil demon that was a hundred times more terrifying than a ghost and was captured in this mountain village. He thought he was doomed and spent his days in a daze. Who would have thought that in this abyss of despair, he could still glimpse a glimpse of a miracle? He frantically used his teeth to bite open the soil that sealed the pottery jar. The first time he saw the baby spirit in the jar, he could not bear to let it go. The pair of light eyes that matched his pupil color and the red mole at the corner of the eye made him look like a little snow fox. Even if it were ten or a hundred years later, he would still be able to recognize it at a glance. This was his little Jia’er, his lost and recovered flesh and blood.
He had never believed in the doctrine of reincarnation preached by the Tusheng Sect, yet in that moment, he fell to his knees, kowtowing and weeping bitterly, willing to offer up his own aging body and bones in gratitude to the gods. But once he calmed down, he was seized by overwhelming fear. He didn’t know what use that evil god had for raising his own child’s soul, but surely, it wasn’t out of kindness or compassion, to return his flesh and blood to him… “That evil god will one day come to take him away” — this thought hung over him like a blade suspended above his head, a death curse that left him in constant dread. And now, that day… had finally come.
With a loud bang, the wooden door let out a thunderous crack, sending dust flying under the bed, blinding his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled himself into a tight ball like a pangolin protecting its young. He could hear a soft, rustling sound swiftly approaching, countless supple vines, like ravenous pythons in search of prey, slithered into his arms the next instant, tightly wrapping around the clay jar and tearing it forcefully from his grasp.
“No—!” The man, who had lived his whole life in cowardice, let out a hoarse roar as he lunged out from under the bed like a desperate, cornered beast. He clutched a length of vine with all his might, only to be dragged forward, straight into a cold, unyielding wall.
Fine, swaying strands of golden tassels brushed across his face. Before him stood a pair of boots inlaid with gold and jade, majestic and imposing. A towering shadow loomed over him, engulfing him completely. A crushing fear fell upon him like a landslide, nearly snuffing out what little courage he had left to resist. He dared not lift his head, because the moment he did, he would meet the evil god’s, eyes soaked in a blood-red glow… and perhaps lose his life by the very next breath.
He didn’t want to die now, not if he could steal just one more glance at his son. That would be enough.
“You… you want to take… my son… why?”
Tai Wu’s teeth chattered, fear oppressed his internal organs, and also squeezed out an infinite amount of grief and anger. He clenched his fingers, and just when he was determined to fight this evil god, he raised his head but saw the figure in front of him, who was as tall as the doorframe, turn around and turn his face towards him slightly. Under the moonlight, the evil god’s eyelashes drooped, and a drop of cinnabar-like blood slid across his pale cheek.
“Thank you. In this life, I will protect Mi Jia from being contaminated by worldly affairs.”
Protect him? Tai Wu froze, an unbelievable feeling rising in his chest. Could it be that this evil god harbored no ill intentions toward his son? In this lifetime? Could it be that the evil god and Mi Jia had some past connection? Seeing the figure slowly turn to leave, he hurriedly took a few steps to catch up, urgently calling out, “Wait, where are you taking him?”
“Leave here. Find a place… with the sea.”
The shadow of the evil god stopped a few steps away. At the foot of the hill, the villagers knelt on the ground, trembling and not daring to look up. They wondered how this terrifying existence that hated them so deeply would deal with them and their families after getting what he wanted.
“As for you all…” The evil god looked down at them, whispering. From the countless vines spreading from beneath his feet, dark, ghostly figures crawled out. “Let them decide, who among you shall die, and who shall live. The innocent may leave freely. As for the guilty, they shall pay their debt.”
…
Tai Wu jolted awake from the nightmare, drenched in cold sweat. Grabbing the heart-saving pill from the table, he swallowed it with a sip of cold tea. After a long while, he finally managed to calm down. Outside the window, the sky was bathed in a dim, red hue, it was the evening. He took out his reading glasses from beneath his pillow and put them on, then walked to the balcony. He picked up the old pear blossom cat that had scrambled to his feet and, as usual, sat down in the chair, staring blankly at the standalone villa on the hillside across from him.
Time flew by unnoticed. Sixteen years had passed since Mi Jia was taken away by that evil god, yet the events of that night remained vivid in his mind, often haunting his dreams.
He actually didn’t live far from his son. Every time he went to visit, Tunshe Nalin, the evil god, never stopped him. To be fair, Tunshe Nalin was meticulous in his care of Mi Jia. Even if he, as Mi Jia’s biological father, had personally raised him, he couldn’t have done it with the same level of detail and care as the evil god did, raising Mi Jia so well. But not being able to keep his child by his side ultimately left him deeply worried, longing for him constantly. It wasn’t that he hadn’t asked before, but every time he brought it up, that evil god, who had always treated him with politeness and gentleness over the years, would instantly change his expression. It was as if a wolf protecting its food had shown its true nature. Those blood-red eyes would narrow as they gazed at him, sending a chill down his spine, making him afraid to bring it up again.
He had thought about stealing his child away, but the evil god kept an extremely tight watch on him. When he occasionally went out, there was that vulture guarding the house, far more effective than a watchdog. Now that his child had grown up, he and the evil god had developed a bond so strong that it felt as though they were the real father and son. This left him feeling both envious and helpless, only able to watch from a distance.
To this day, he still didn’t understand what kind of past connection there was between the evil god and Mi Jia. Not only had the god brought Mi Jia back to the human world, but he was also raising him as both father and mother. Could it be that Mi Jia had saved his life in the past, a debt so heavy that it required such care? Tai Wu couldn’t figure it out. He had asked Tunshe Nalin but had gotten no answer. Mi Jia didn’t have memories of his past life, and Tai Wu didn’t dare to ask him, and Tunshe Nalin would never give him the chance to do so either.
Lost in his thoughts, the sound of fluttering wings suddenly grew louder, drawing his attention. His spirits lifted as he saw a flash of white descending from the hillside opposite. He immediately knew that Tunshe Nalin was bringing Mi Jia home from school.
Below, a low-key car drove up the shaded mountain path, its black exterior bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. This type of transportation had only recently replaced horse-drawn carriages in the upper echelons of society. Tunshe Nalin had purchased one to conveniently pick up Mi Jia, who had just entered high school. The evil god’s wealth was unfathomable, and he never hesitated to spend on Mi Jia. From food and clothing to education and personal needs, everything was taken care of in ways that even his former role as a teacher and artist had never seen, unimaginable to him. Perhaps even the royal family of Jiangsu in the past hadn’t provided such luxuries.
As his biological father, he couldn’t compare, and he certainly couldn’t provide such things.
The car slowly came to a stop on the platform halfway up the mountain. Tai Wu blinked, focusing his gaze as the car door opened. A young boy in a white shirt and suspenders jumped out of the car. Before Tai Wu could get a good look at him, the boy dashed like the wind through the large iron gate of the villa.
Soon after, a tall figure emerged from the car, holding a backpack in hand. Walking with a calm, composed pace, he made his way toward the door. As he reached the entrance, it was as though he had eyes on the back of his head. Sensing Tai Wu’s gaze, he turned back and gave him a nod, as if to acknowledge him.
He watched as the villa’s large gate was locked by the security guards, then reluctantly withdrew his gaze.
He handed his backpack to the servant who had come to greet him at the door, then walked into the garden in front of his villa. Strolling across a small bridge with flowing water, he was greeted by a vibrant sea of crimson clouds. It was near the end of summer, and the wisteria was in full bloom. As the wind blew, a few petals fluttered down, drifting along the water. He picked up a petal that had fallen onto his hand, clenched it in his palm, and glanced over the flower grove. His eyes swiftly found the young boy’s figure. As he had anticipated, the sixteen-year-old was perched on a tree branch, sketching a nest of swallows that had just settled in at the start of July.
Tunshe Nalin gazed at him intently, a slight smile curving at the corners of his lips. He deliberately slowed his steps, careful not to disturb the boy’s concentration.
The boy was so engrossed in his drawing that he didn’t notice Tunshe Nalin standing beneath the tree. To get a closer look at the nest of baby swallows, he nearly leaned over the branch, his waist sinking slightly, creating a gentle curve between his hips.
Behind his sunglasses, Tunshe Nalin quietly shifted his gaze away.
He lowered his eyelashes, standing quietly beneath the tree just as he had in his youth, waiting for the figure above. Unbeknownst to him, the boy was already gazing down at him, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes.
A startled cry came from above. Tunshe Nalin quickly looked up, and with a swift motion, extended his hand to catch the boy who had fallen from the tree.
“Ugh, there was a bug on the tree. It scared me.” The boy murmured, his pale arms winding around Tunshe Nalin’s neck like a tendril. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, still shaken by the scare.
Tunshe Nalin gently patted the boy’s back in a comforting manner, kneeling down to check him over. His arms, hands, knees, and shins were all unharmed, but when he lifted the loose hem of the boy’s shorts, the inside of his thigh revealed a large patch of red, the delicate skin slightly scratched. Thankfully, it wasn’t serious, just a minor scrape from a tree branch, with a small amount of blood seeping out.
“Tomorrow, I’ll send someone to deal with the bugs.” Tunshe Nalin said, his gaze darkening. He picked up the boy and walked toward the house.
“It’s just a cicada, it’s fine. They’re not pests. I was just too focused on drawing. Don’t blame them, please don’t kill the bugs, alright?” The voice by his ear was soft and sweet, with a pleading tone. The boy’s warm breath brushed against his ear, making it feel more like he was coaxing him.
