Now, fifteen years have passed. The children who were ten years old back then have long since started their own families and taken wives. Samuel Jones's ancestors once held official positions, leaving behind a legacy, and his family is well-off. Life was originally going very smoothly. Unfortunately, a few months ago, his wife Mrs. Lane somehow suddenly developed a delusional disorder—her words and actions became crude, she spoke wild nonsense, and claimed she was not a woman but a great general stationed at the border. Not only did she refuse to let Samuel Jones come near her, she even punched him out of the bedroom.

For months, the Samuel Jones family sought out gods and diviners, turning the household upside down, but to no avail. Instead, Mrs. Lane became even more irritable. Now, with no other choice, Samuel Jones can only keep his wife chained in the room with iron chains, not daring to approach casually, and life has become truly miserable.

“This really is... quite a strange tale. Unfortunately, I know nothing about such matters and can’t help you,” Sarah comforted him. “The world is vast, and there are many capable people, far more talented than my husband. If you keep searching, you’ll surely find a solution.”

Emily Bennett interjected, “If you really can’t solve it, just ask her for her name and where she lives. If she answers correctly, let her go on her own. Why keep her tied up at home?”

Samuel Jones sighed, “I did ask, but she refuses to say, claiming she’s ashamed to see friends and family in a woman’s body. Besides, my wife was married to me through proper matchmakers and betrothal gifts—we are a legitimate couple. How could I let her leave so easily?”

He quietly sized up Emily Bennett, noticing her hair coiled like clouds, brows arched like new moons, and an extraordinary spirit—clearly not an ordinary person. He couldn’t help but feel regret. He’d heard she was the only disciple of the master, but unfortunately, she was a young girl. If she were a man, he would have invited her no matter what. If he could learn even a little of the master’s true teachings, at least there would be some hope.

Samuel Jones left, full of disappointment, leaving behind an ordinary-looking red lacquered wooden box as a token of thanks.

Emily Bennett opened the box and saw several small compartments inside, neatly filled with gold bars, silver ingots, pearls, jade, and jewelry.

Sarah glanced at it, but didn’t care much. She happily went off to build a new chicken coop for the chicks she’d brought home, as if a box full of gold and jewels was less important than the two fluffy yellow chicks in her hands. She casually told Emily Bennett to put it away in the storeroom.

There was a room in the house, not too big or small, used as a storeroom, filled with boxes of all sizes like this one, all tokens of thanks from people who had once come for the master’s help. Ethan Young piled them together at random, never sorting or organizing them, so the room was so cluttered there was barely any space to step.

Emily Bennett squeezed the little box in as best she could, looking worriedly at the thin, not-very-useful brass lock on the storeroom door.

When the master was home, the house seemed ordinary, but all kinds of monsters and spirits guarded it openly and secretly, giving a great sense of security.

Now that the master was gone, the house was full of mountains of gold and silver. If just a couple of thieves came by, losing money would be a small matter, but if anything happened to the mistress, she would never forgive herself.

Emily Bennett stroked her chin, wondering if, after years of studying Daoist arts, it was time to try contracting a few familiars. They didn’t have to be great monsters like 窃脂 or 犀渠. Even ordinary little spirits with a bit of magic would be enough to guard the house when she was away.

After the master left, the mistress didn’t become as sorrowful and melancholy as Emily Bennett had imagined. Instead, she shed her former quietness and began living a very down-to-earth life—going to the market, buying groceries, boiling water, cooking—seeming to find joy in every little thing.

Once her health recovered, she resumed, as before, giving Emily Bennett half an hour of lessons each day within her abilities. The lessons started with basic literacy and gradually expanded to painting, music, flower arranging, tea ceremony, and more.

In earlier years, Emily Bennett often held Sarah’s hand and asked where the master had gone and when he would return.

Sarah would always squat down and pat her head: “I don’t know where he went, nor when he’ll be back, but I believe he’ll return one day. All we can do is live our lives well and happily every day, so that when your master comes back, he’ll be glad to see us.”

So Emily Bennett began quietly practicing the arts her master had taught her, helping the mistress with household chores, and waiting together for the master’s return. She secretly thought that if the master was in trouble, she would only be able to help if she had mastered her skills.

Compared to the master’s mysterious Daoist arts, the mistress was just an ordinary person. She couldn’t see the hidden monsters and spirits, nor could she practice esoteric techniques. But after so many years together, in Emily Bennett’s heart, the mistress was just as worthy of respect and admiration as the master.

Unlike the neighboring women, in this society where literacy was not widespread, the mistress, though a woman, was not only well-versed in the classics and skilled in poetry, but also excelled in various arts and etiquette. The grace she displayed in her every move often made Emily Bennett suspect that the mistress must be a noble lady from some prestigious family, and perhaps she and the master had a romantic past—like a dream in a garden or a midnight elopement—so she now lived incognito in this small town.