After their journey through the Netherworld was over.
Sun Wukong carried Little Macaque back to Western Spirit Mountain.
Chen Wei took Yang Chan back to his Mansion in the Heavenly Court. Neither spoke along the way.
The moment they stepped through the Mansion's gates, Yang Chan rolled up her sleeves with practiced ease and turned toward the kitchen. "Qingquan, rest a while. I'll cook you a bowl of osmanthus tangyuan."
Tangyuan again?
"Wait." Quick of eye and hand, Chen Wei caught Yang Chan's wrist, then pressed down on her shoulders to make her sit.
"Qingquan, what's wrong?" Yang Chan obediently sat down and asked softly, "Is something troubling you?"
Chen Wei did not answer at once. He merely gazed quietly at the Third Holy Mother before him, his eyes passing over her flawless face.
Perfect. Far too perfect.
She was practically a model carved by the Heavenly Court's Office of Rites, an exact replica of the rules for female immortals.
"Chan'er." Chen Wei shook his head with a helpless smile and slowly began, "You're wonderful. Gentle, obedient, considerate of an immortal's wishes. In all the Three Realms, any immortal fortunate enough to have you as his companion would probably wake from his dreams laughing."
Yang Chan's cheeks flushed, and she lowered her head. "Qingquan, why do you keep saying such strange things today? There's no need to mince words between us."
"Can I really say it?"
"Yes, you can!"
"All right, then I'll say it!" Chen Wei looked straight into Yang Chan's eyes, his voice calm. "I know you're not the complete Yang Chan. Your temperament is too good-so good that you're like a counterfeit without a temper of her own. Compared with this dignified, virtuous version of you, I prefer the little tyrant you used to be."
Yang Chan