Meng Li's hands wouldn't stop shaking.This was becoming a theme.She stood inside the warehouse watching the Red Demon, Shui, her name was Hu Shui, the direct descendant of the being she had been hiding from and learning to bake for, bounce on her toes and clap her hands together while six lemon cakes sat on the makeshift table between them. Six perfect lemon cakes that Meng Li had poured her soul, cultivation, fears, months of practice, and roughly forty-seven failed attempts into creating.They were the best she had made so far.Ascended Heavenly Flour, phoenix Eggs from an adolescent two thousand years old, and even crystalline frost layered across the tops in patterns she'd spent forty attempts perfecting.Offerings meant for a being so far above her that attributing intent to his movements was like an ant trying to divine purpose from the direction a mountain faced.And she'd just handed them to his twelve-year-old granddaughter because the girl had looked at the spatial container with eyes so wide and hungry that Meng Li's survival instincts, pride, centuries of aristocratic training, and every ounce of self-preservation she possessed had crumbled like wet sand against a tide. She had no idea why she pulled them out when they were her main trump card for survival. "Can I try one?" Shui had asked.Meng Li's mouth had said "Of course" before her brain could scream: “No! Those are for your Ancestor, the Ancient, you fool! Those are your survival strategy! Those are the only thing standing between you and complete oblivion–Her thoughts came to late.Shui grabbed the nearest cake with both hands and bit into it.Meng Li watched the girl's face cycle through expressions faster than her foxkin could shift forms. It started off with confusion, brow furrowing as the flavour hit her tongue. Then her eyes went round and the chewing slowed. Her pupils dilated (...)