The group once again gathered around the dining table, their gazes falling on the three vacant seats, minds tangled with conflicting emotions.
"Alright, let's draw lots," the black-clad woman announced, producing a bamboo lot tube and placing it before the boy.
Without hesitation, the boy drew a slip. There was no question written upon it—only a single character: "六" (Six).
The black-clad woman took the bamboo slip and, in the manner of a waiter announcing a table, declared, "Heavenly Room Number Six."
Next came Hua Manting.
"Heavenly Room Number Six," the woman repeated.
???
"Eh!"
"Eh!"
Hua Manting and Xie Ziyin exclaimed in unison.
"Both are Heavenly Room Number Six—does that mean the same room?!"
"Yes," the black-clad woman said matter-of-factly, unfazed, as she placed the lot tube before the little girl.
"No!"
Xie Ziyin shouted.
"Heavenly Room Number Four," the woman announced, then snapped the bamboo slip back into the tube with a sharp bang. "This matter is not for you to decide!"
"No! Change it!" Xie Ziyin sprang to his feet.
A deafening clang erupted.
The Netherworld Cauldron stirred again, followed by a continuous, unsettling hum punctuated with occasional thunderous crashes.
Everyone clutched their heads in agony.
Xie Ziyin glanced at Hua Manting, who gestured for him to sit, then cast a concerned look at the expressionless boy, finally resting on the struggling young mother and her daughter, whose condition seemed perilously close to fainting.
With no alternative, Xie Ziyin gritted his teeth and sat down.
Instantly, the colossal clamor ceased.
Before the young mother could recover, the black-clad woman set the lot tube before her.
Pale as a ghost, her hands trembling, the mother drew halfway, only for the slip to snap back twice before finally coming free.
"Heavenly Room Number Three," the woman declared.
"Ah?" The young mother froze, then grasped the black-clad woman desperately, disregarding her own fear. "My daughter is still small and needs care. We must stay in the same room!"
"What do you mean 'must'?" The black-clad woman tugged back her arm but found it stuck. Irritated, she twisted her wrist, seizing the mother's arm, pinning her to the table. "All of you are insufferable! One more word and I'll toss both of you out!"
With that, she flicked the mother's arm aside and placed the lot tube before the girl.
Ignoring the pain in her arm, the mother scrambled to her knees, clutching the black-clad woman's leg. "Please, I beg you, have mercy!"
Clang! The Netherworld Cauldron sounded again.
Frustrated at her inability to draw her leg free, the black-clad woman raised her right hand, and a gust of wind carrying rain swept through the open doorway.
Earlier, when the lanky youth had dashed out, the others had not realized the storm's menace. Now aware of its danger, they crouched beneath the table, shielding their heads. But the rain that fell upon them was ordinary—harmless—so they rose and returned to their seats.
The young mother still clung to the woman, who raised her left hand, enveloping the nearly unconscious girl in a swirl of black mist, seemingly poised to hurl her outside. With a scream, the mother released her grasp, retreating to her chair.
At last, the girl was returned, and the door closed.
The Netherworld Cauldron fell silent, the storm's roar diminishing.
"Draw your lots quickly!" the woman urged the girl. "I won't tolerate more nonsense! One more act of defiance, and you'll all be thrown out!"
Trembling and weeping, the girl drew a bamboo slip. She had not ceased crying all night.
"Stop your whining and pitiful looks! They won't work on me!" the woman snapped. "Heavenly Room Number One."
Next, Sicheng drew "Five."
When it came to Xie Ziyin, his eyes bloodshot, he grabbed a slip prematurely, giving himself over to frustration.
The number stunned him: "六."
"Six?"
"Heavenly Room Number Six," the black-clad woman snatched the slip, read it aloud, and tossed it back into the tube. "Enough. Everyone, proceed upstairs."
What kind of system was this for room assignments?
Xie Ziyin remained frozen, while the others, perhaps unsure or simply waiting for Hua Manting and him to act, hesitated.
"Let me clarify for you," the woman said from the staircase, eyeing the motionless group. "Within twelve lifetimes, those who share memories may occupy the same room. If not, it signifies insufficient fate—no need to force it.
"Let's go." Hua Manting tapped the table in front of Xie Ziyin. He looked up, dazed.
"You're shocked, or just overwhelmed with happiness?" she teased, rising to lead him around the table.
"We've met before," Xie Ziyin murmured obediently, following her upstairs.
"Perhaps two lifetimes ago, or three," she said, smiling and clicking her tongue. "Maybe even adversaries, bound by karmic ties."
"Impossible," Xie Ziyin scoffed.
At the end of the second-floor corridor stood a suspended bridge leading to another building. Wide and long, it faded into the night rain, the opposite windows faintly glowing like fireflies.
"What a grand palace, yet no proper bridge! If we step out there, we'd all turn to blood!" Hua Manting hesitated.
A black-clad maid handed them a crimson umbrella—small, but enough for the two to share, albeit cramped.
Ordinary rain would pose no danger, but this was lethal rain.
"One flimsy umbrella—how can that suffice?" Hua Manting muttered. "The wind will carry the rain; at best it shields only our upper bodies. Are our legs meant to dissolve?"
The woman opened the umbrella and walked into the storm. Miraculously, it formed a protective barrier, diverting the rain.
Hua Manting realized she could use a barrier in the rain but hesitated, knowing the Cauldron's clamor might nullify her magic.
Xie Ziyin followed, shielding her with his umbrella, while the boy squeezed past Sicheng to follow.
"Hey—" Sicheng called, trailing behind, but stopped mid-insult upon seeing Xie Ziyin.
The opposite building was equally tall, eight or nine stories perhaps, mirroring the dining hall outside.
Inside, however, it differed: doors lined both sides of the corridor, each marked with a wooden plaque indicating a room number.
The first door on the left was Heavenly Room Number One—the girl's assigned chamber.
The black-clad woman produced a key from somewhere, fitted it into the golden lock, turned it, and the massive double doors swung open with a resounding bang.
Though fearful, curiosity prevailed; they craned their necks to peek inside. Even the girl paused her crying, peering through her fingers.
Inside was a street aglow with lights, bustling with shops, vendors, and horse-drawn carriages—an evening scene alive with activity.
Strangely, the street's inhabitants seemed oblivious to the wide-open door and the spectators outside.
"Are you all ghosts or what?" the black-clad woman snapped impatiently.
"We're souls stripped of a fragment of life—doesn't that count?" Hua Manting muttered. "Why all these theatrics?"
The woman rolled her eyes but ignored her, redirecting her ire toward the listless black-clad maids.
"Throw her in!" she ordered. Two maids seized the girl by her arms, dragging her inside.
"Help! Help!" the girl cried, struggling in vain.
They thrust her into the crowd of street-dwellers, colliding with two passersby, causing a minor commotion. The maids retreated, locking the doors behind them.
Silence returned to the corridor, save for the storm outside.
Heavenly Room Number Three belonged to the young mother. According to sequence, she was next.
Inside, a small courtyard at the mountain's base glimmered in early dawn light. Smoke rose from a chimney, birds called in the distance, painting a serene, almost utopian scene.
The black-clad woman commanded the maids to drag the mother inside.
"I want my mother! I want my mother!" the girl wailed, clinging desperately.
"Please! My child!" the mother sobbed.
Chaos erupted in the corridor.
"You fools!" the woman snatched the girl away. The maids seized the mother, dragging her into the room and locking the door.
"Can't you be gentler with a child?" Hua Manting bent to lift the girl, who continued screaming and flailing, striking indiscriminately.
Xie Ziyin intervened, but the black-clad woman seized the girl, tossing her into Room Four opposite with a thud.
"Save your pity," the woman snapped. "You're already struggling for survival. Comfort her all you like; she'll cry again the moment you leave."
Hua Manting shrugged at Xie Ziyin, who shook his head with a smile.
The interlude ended, and they proceeded onward.
"Heavenly Room Number Five," the woman said.
Inside was a dark, endless forest, eliciting concern for Sicheng. He bowed to Xie Ziyin, who patted his shoulder. "See you tomorrow."
Sicheng's eyes glistened red; he bowed deeply. "See you tomorrow, Your Highness."
"Enough lingering," the woman thrust him inside and locked the door.
"Your room," she gestured to the opposite chamber.
Heavenly Room Number Six was a proper room.
"This one's nice," Hua Manting remarked. "Typical Heavenly Room—wonder how many beds. That couch could fit one."
Waiting for a response, she noticed Xie Ziyin silent, staring.
"Eh, what's the matter?" she asked.
"This place," Xie Ziyin murmured, brows furrowed. "It feels… familiar."
"Familiar?" she echoed.
He bolted toward the partitioned section on the left.
"What's wrong?" Hua Manting followed, seeing him frozen. She nudged him. "Why so startled?"
"This… this seems to be my room," Xie Ziyin said, disbelief etched across his face. "How is this possible? Is it an illusion?"
"Your room? What are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled.
"This is my room in the Yundu Mansion," he explained. "The layout, the furniture—all identical."
"Really?" she questioned.
"Yes. Look at the reds—the bed, canopy, blankets—all prepared for our marriage."
Hua Manting examined the room; it was undeniably festive, clearly set for a wedding.
"Though I am here as the groom, my mansion remains. Before leaving, I had it arranged as a bridal chamber, ready for when we visit my father in Yundu next year. My father and your brother have already agreed that when I take charge of the Divine Palace, you will come live with me there."
"Will you stay at the mansion, or build a new one?" Xie Ziyin's eyes gleamed. "My father said to ask you after marriage; he will support your choice."
Hua Manting chuckled. "Let's first survive tonight; house plans can wait."
"Survive tonight," Xie Ziyin echoed, dimming, fists clenched.
"Even if it is your room, it's not surprising after everything we've seen," she reasoned. "Could be illusion, could be teleportation magic."
"You're right." His composure returned as he entered the adjoining study.
He retrieved a book from a stack, revealing a pressed red peony. Its petals were perfect, color preserved as if freshly picked.
"So beautiful," Hua Manting admired it. "Did you make this?"
"Yes. Hand-picked and pressed. You may have it."
Hesitating, she returned it to the book. "Better not. Who knows what'll happen next? Too fragile to carry."
"Fair enough," he nodded, replacing the book. "I'll make more for you later, as bookmarks."
"Perfect, my sister-in-law will love them too," she laughed. "If this is an illusion, it's impressively detailed—down to the pressed flower."
Somehow, Xie Ziyin seemed suddenly melancholic. His mood had oscillated several times since entering.
Despite his usual flamboyance and slick speech, Hua Manting knew him as composed and rational. Such visible fluctuation was unprecedented.
"The small couch in the study can accommodate one. You sleep there; I'll fetch bedding from the bedroom," he instructed the boy, ignoring consent.
Though rarely disliking anyone at first sight, Xie Ziyin felt an inexplicable unease toward the stranger boy, especially when he stared intently at Hua Manting.
"I'll sleep on the hall couch; just move the small table—big enough. You sleep in the bedroom; new bedding and pillows are provided, rest assured. Call me if needed."
"Fine," Hua Manting agreed, satisfied.
"Enough bedding. Several more in the wardrobe. Let's rest early and preserve our strength."