Because in the end—
she already knew who truly came out ahead.
The lizard remained still.
Silent atop her head.
Invisible.
Unreadable.
But his golden eyes rested on her.
Watching.
Not missing the subtle satisfaction in her posture.
Not missing the faint, hidden gleam in her expression.
Not missing anything.
He did not interrupt.
Did not react.
Because to him—
it did not matter.
Just as she saw wine as something trivial and easily spent—
he saw silk the same way.
A resource.
Useful.
Replaceable.
Not something that could compare to what he intended to become.
So he said nothing.
And the fox—
still pleased with herself—
continued eating.
Slowly.
Contentedly.
The striped-tailed beast had not yet returned.
For a brief moment, the pavilion remained calm.
Then—
footsteps approached.
Many of them.
The fox's ears twitched slightly.
She lifted her gaze.
The striped-tailed beast was returning, practically glowing with pride and urgency.
And behind him—
a line of attendants followed.
Each carrying sealed clay jars.
One after another.
Neatly stacked.
Carefully handled.
The scent of rich spirit wine drifted ahead of them.
Aged.
Refined.
Dense with spiritual essence.
The striped-tailed beast beamed.
"Lady!"
His grin was almost blinding.
"Your wine has arrived!"
The attendants began placing the jars beside the table with careful precision.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Until sixty jars stood arranged in perfect rows like offerings.
Nearby tables began to notice.
Not because wine was rare—
but because sixty jars of Moonroot Pavilion's finest was excessive by any standard.
The fox's ear flicked once.
Then slowly—
a faint smile returned to her face.
Not for the wine.
But for the thought already forming in her mind.
She could already imagine his reaction.
Whether he showed it or not.
"There."
Her voice slipped through the mind-link.
Smooth.
Almost smug.
*Try not to drown in it.*
Then—
footsteps approached.
Many of them.
The fox's ears twitched slightly.
She lifted her gaze.
The striped-tailed beast was returning, practically glowing with pride and urgency.
And behind him—
a line of attendants followed.
Each carrying sealed clay jars.
One after another.
Neatly stacked.
Carefully handled.
The scent of rich spirit wine drifted ahead of them.
Aged.
Refined.
Dense with spiritual essence.
The striped-tailed beast beamed.
"Lady!"
His grin was almost blinding.
"Your wine has arrived!"
The attendants began placing the jars beside the table with careful precision.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Until sixty jars stood arranged in perfect rows like offerings.
Nearby tables began to notice.
Not because wine was rare—
but because sixty jars of Moonroot Pavilion's finest was excessive by any standard.
The fox's ear flicked once.
Then slowly—
a faint smile returned to her face.
Not for the wine.
But for the thought already forming in her mind.
She could already imagine his reaction.
Whether he showed it or not.
"There."
Her voice slipped through the mind-link.
Smooth.
Almost smug.
*Try not to drown in it.*
Time passed.
The fox finished at last.
She leaned back slightly, satisfied.
A slow, unhurried motion followed as she licked the last trace of broth from her muzzle. Only then did she glance across the table.
The striped-tailed beast was still standing there—half eager, half uncertain—clearly waiting for permission.
The fox's lips curved faintly.
"There."
She gestured lazily toward the remaining spread.
Half-finished dishes. A whole spirit fish untouched at the center. Bowls of broth still warm with essence.
More than enough food to satisfy him for days.
"Knock yourself out."
The beast's eyes lit up instantly, excitement breaking through his earlier restraint.
"Lady, then I won't be polite!"
He wasted no time.
Practically dropping into his seat, he immediately reached for the spirit fish as if afraid it might disappear.
The fox gave a small, amused huff, then shifted her attention toward the wine.
The attendants had already withdrawn.
The terrace had grown quieter now, the atmosphere softened into something almost serene. Only distant conversations and the faint sound of flowing water lingered in the background.
Then—
the jars moved.
One shifted slightly.
Then another.
The fox's ears twitched.
A faint smile touched her lips.
At last.
The lizard leapt lightly from between her ears and landed soundlessly on the table.
Still small. Still sleek.
Then, slowly, his invisibility peeled away.
First his outline returned.
Then his white scales.
Then his calm golden eyes.
He appeared fully, coiled with effortless precision around one of the sealed clay jars.
Without a word, his tail flicked.
The lid popped free.
A rich, aged aroma of spirit wine immediately filled the air, dense and intoxicating.
The lizard did not hesitate.
The jar lifted into the air with him, held aloft by invisible force as he coiled around it. Floating effortlessly, he brought it closer and lowered his head.
He began to drink.
Slowly.
Calmly.
As if this were the most natural thing in the world.
The striped-tailed beast froze mid-bite.
The piece of fish hung halfway to his mouth as his eyes widened in disbelief.
A small white lizard.
Floating.
Drinking top-grade spirit wine like some ancient young master.
The fox caught his expression and nearly laughed.
The beast slowly lowered the fish, glancing between the lizard and the fox.
Then, wisely, he chose silence.
In Five Veins Hollow, the smartest creatures survived by knowing when not to question what they saw.
He quietly returned to his meal, pretending nothing unusual was happening.
Above the table, the lizard continued drinking in silence—golden eyes half-lidded—while below, the fox watched with open amusement.
For the first time in a long while, the night felt almost peaceful.
The terrace settled into a strange rhythm.
Quiet.
Comfortable.
The striped-tailed beast ate as though compensating for years of hunger, unrestrained and thorough rather than refined. He stripped the spirit fish clean, drained the marrow broth, and picked over every remaining herb and fragment of meat with relentless focus.
The fox observed him for a while, half amused, half absent-minded, while the lizard remained above the table—already several jars deep.
One jar emptied.
Then another.