The Hibiscus Mansion is located in the Jiangnan region, said to have been built by a wealthy merchant for his childhood sweetheart wife. The estate isn't large, but every detail reflects meticulous craftsmanship. Pavilions and water pavilions are all intricately carved, and the corridors and stone statues hold hidden mysteries.

In front of the house, under the eaves, by the pond, along the courtyard walls—everywhere the eye can see, hibiscus flowers are in full bloom, like pearls adorning the green branches and leaves.

Beneath the pavilion, the hibiscus sways gently, its slender branches a pale red.

The current owner of the Hibiscus Mansion is surnamed Hong, with a mysterious background. But Rong Zheng told Tao Mian that it was actually Du Hong who bought the mansion at a high price for his beloved, Ming Fu.

Just because her name contains "Fu," and because she loves hibiscus flowers.

Rong Zheng mentioned the origin of the mansion with an indifferent expression, revealing nothing of her true thoughts.

Tao Mian, however, stood by a cluster of hibiscus flowers that had somehow bloomed in the wrong place by the outer wall, sneering disdainfully.

"Giving hibiscus flowers just because her name has 'Fu'? If her name had 'Star,' would he give her a celestial palace? How tacky."

Rong Zheng's thoughts were interrupted, and she chuckled.

"Then what about Peach Blossom Mountain and you, the Immortal with the surname Tao? And you call others tacky."

"Tch, I don't need anyone to give it to me; I have it myself."

Tao Mian muttered, bending down to tighten his pant legs, placing his hands on the wall, ready to climb.

"What are you doing?"

"Climbing the wall, old habit."

"..." Rong Zheng held her forehead, "Can't you ever find another way to get in?"

"The owner of this place won't open the door for me, and I'm not allowed to climb the wall? What logic is that?"

He even shifted the blame onto others.

"If you're going to climb, don't climb here. Let me show you a better spot."

No wonder people say, "Birds of a feather flock together." The master leads the mischief, and the disciple follows suit.

The two of them successfully climbed over the courtyard wall. The Hibiscus Mansion looked like a fat sheep lying on the ground, ready for the taking, and even the clumsiest thief wouldn't leave empty-handed.

Stolen novel; please report.

But this was just its appearance.

Du Hong dared to leave people in the mortal world, naturally not neglecting the defenses.

Tao Mian casually counted and identified three different groups of guards.

They hid their identities, disguised as gardeners, maids, and stewards, appearing in various corners of the Hibiscus Mansion.

And the place Rong Zheng found was the only blind spot in the surveillance.

After climbing over the wall, Rong Zheng skillfully led the way to the treasure pavilion of the Hibiscus Mansion, where various treasures Du Hong had given to Ming Fu were stored.

Rong Zheng walked lightly and familiarly, as if she were entering her own backyard.

"I supervised the construction of this mansion," Rong Zheng said as they walked. "At the time, Ming Fu didn't like the original decor, so Du Hong asked me to find someone to change it all. I asked him what Ming Fu preferred, but he wouldn't say, so I had to do it according to my own taste."

Rong Zheng thought about it and was speechless.

"I can only say that I decorated this expensive place to my liking."

Tao Mian sensed something was off.

"Isn't your pavilion master supposed to cherish her? How come he doesn't even know what decor she likes?"

"He's busy with a million things, probably doesn't have the energy to pay attention to these details."

Mentioning "busy with a million things," Rong Zheng suddenly became indignant.

"But where do I get so much energy and leisure? Working myself to death to meet deadlines, and still have to come here and argue with carpenters and masons. Little Tao, you're laughing!"

Tao Mian stifled his laughter, coughing once.

"Little Hua, you've changed a lot."

Tao Mian vaguely remembered when he first met Rong Zheng, she had wrapped herself in a lively and cheerful exterior, but her soul was almost dead, driven only by the instincts of an assassin to complete her tasks.

Now, following the Immortal, her once suspended heart was gradually settling. Though not yet fully grounded, it had touched the soft tips of the grass on the surface.

"Little Hua, Shi Fu can't teach you much else, but he can teach you how to live easily."

"Little Tao, you can fool me, but don't fool yourself. You live leisurely over there, with everything in harmony, because I'm here chopping wood, cooking, and carrying the burden."

"..."

The two intruders chatted happily in someone else's courtyard, finally reaching the mansion's treasure trove after bypassing several guards.

The pavilion was two stories high, and the wealth inside almost seemed to spill out from the gaps in the brick walls. Through the windows, one could see the treasures piled so high they seemed to reach the ceiling.

Du Hong truly spared no expense for his one and only beloved.

To say the difference between caring and not caring is worlds apart. Rong Zheng earned her rewards through hard work, while Ming Fu didn't need to do anything; these treasures naturally gathered here like water flowing to low ground.

Thinking of those days of working so hard, Rong Zheng wanted to slap herself awake.

It didn't matter anymore; she could now face Ming Fu and Du Hong with peace of mind. If there was any real injustice, it was for her past self.

Because she had found someone who would remember her name forever after her death.

Perhaps this was the person she had been looking for all along. Sent by the Floating Pavilion for rigorous training since childhood, she emerged under the name "Kite," once believing that besides Du Hong, no one would remember her name.

She wouldn't live long; she knew that from the first day she entered the pavilion. She just hoped someone would remember her. Not too often, once a year would suffice.

While Rong Zheng was lost in thought, Tao Mian, without a key, opened the treasure pavilion's combination lock.

"..." Rong Zheng's mind almost stopped working, "You're an Immortal, yet you climb walls and pick locks? Are you really a proper Immortal?"

"I live long, so I have to learn some skills to pass the time."

"Dare I ask, what other illegal things do you know?"

"That's quite a statement... I just self-taught according to what's out there."

"..."

The two entered the treasure pavilion, much more smoothly than Rong Zheng had anticipated.

They rummaged through the mountains of gold and silver, putting in a lot of effort.

Rong Zheng found several separate cabinets displaying various precious bronzes and jades, as well as famous weapons. She called Tao Mian over to look.

"The items in these cabinets seem the most valuable, and there's no dust on them, suggesting their owner often takes them out to admire," Rong Zheng casually picked up a jade bracelet and held it up to the light, "Snow-Embroidered Sword is probably among them."

Tao Mian thought that made sense.

Yet after searching carefully three times, they still couldn't find a trace of the Snow-Embroidered Sword.

"Strange," Tao Mian shoved a large antique open-mouthed vase back, "They even put vases in here, but no Snow-Embroidered Sword? Little Hua, did you find anything over there?"

Rong Zheng stood with her back to Tao Mian, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her neck bent, her back hunched, as if staring intently at something.

Sensing something was wrong, Tao Mian approached to see.

The once-famous sword that had accompanied Kite through life and death was casually placed in a corner. They hadn't noticed it earlier because it was covered with various odds and ends. The blade of the Snow-Embroidered Sword was very thin, barely as wide as the gap between two slightly parted fingers. Covered by the dust on the ground, it was even harder to find.

It lay forgotten and buried, making it hard to believe that it had once been held in someone's palm, embraced through long, bitterly cold nights.

The sorrow Rong Zheng showed then was less for a sword and more like mourning a lost friend.