Shen kicked at the grass until his shoe scuffed, the broken succulent’s leaves sticking to the sole. “Three days of cleaning jam off picnic blankets and apologizing over macarons,” he muttered. “I should just buy Su a lifetime supply of pastries and disappear.” Chen didn’t argue. She’d spent the night replaying the dog chase, kicking herself for forgetting his childhood fear.
Their third attempt was a quiet cafe on Pine Street, chosen for its no-dog policy and sturdy ceilings. Chen had even arrived an hour early to check for loose fixtures. Shen brought a vintage teacup—“It’s from the 1950s, matches your bakery’s vibe,” he’d practiced saying. But ten minutes after Su sat down, a pipe burst above their table. Water gushed over the teacup, soaking Su’s notebook and turning Shen’s apology into a spluttering mess.
“I’m not angry,” Su said, dabbing her notebook with a napkin, “just... exhausted.” She pushed the soggy teacup toward him. “Maybe we’re better off as childhood memories.” With that, she left, the bell above the cafe door sounding like a final verdict.
By dusk, Chen and Shen stood in the Yuelao Office, water still dripping from their sleeves. Zhang examined the black thread on Shen’s wrist, his fingers hovering over the tight knots. “The Peace Token isn’t failing,” he said slowly. “This curse is heavier than we thought.”
Chen leaned forward, her wet hair dripping onto the desk. “What do you mean? It’s the Eternal Enmity Talisman, right?” Zhang shook his head, opening the leather ledger to a page marked with faded runes.
“Bad luck plus curse equals unbreakable,” he said, tapping the runes. “The talisman is one layer, but there’s something older clinging to him. Something that’s been feeding on his misfortune long before you handed him that envelope.” Shen’s head snapped up. “My grandfather’s antique shop—he always said it was ‘haunted by bad luck.’”
Zhang nodded. “Curses like this don’t form overnight. The talisman just woke the old one up. To break it, you can’t just rely on soulmate threads. You have to find the root.” He closed the ledger, handing Shen a new token carved with a phoenix. “This will hold the chaos back longer. But first, we need to dig into why misfortune has followed your family.”
Chen stared at the token, a flicker of hope returning. For the first time, their failure wasn’t just a mistake—it was a clue. Shen turned the token in his palm, the metal warm against his damp skin. “Where do we start?” Zhang smiled faintly, nodding toward the door. “Your shop. The past is usually hiding where the trouble began.”
