It's autumn, my favorite season.

  The heat and restlessness have faded away with the distant hum of cicadas, and all life, under the warm breeze and wide sky, reveals its fullest and most vibrant side, in harmony with the characteristics of the season—harvest.

  It′s been a few days since I returned from Xi'an, and the local schools have been in session for over a month now. However, I've noticed something troubling. The sales, which should have surged with the return of these little food-craving cats, have not only failed to rise but have actually dropped significantly. The store, usually bustling after school, has become eerily quiet, a stark contrast to its usual lively scene.

  Although the fluctuation in sales doesn′t directly impact my financial situation, I′ve been running this business for almost a year now. I′ve treated it seriously, almost as a career, and I′ve gotten used to the hustle and bustle of people coming and going. The sudden silence feels out of pce, and I can′t quite get used to it.

  After some thought, I sent Pang Zi and Shou Zi out to explore the area around the store.

  In the evening, they returned with news that confirmed my suspicions.

  Across the street from my teashop, a new shop had opened, also selling desserts.

  According to Pang Zi and Shou Zi, this new shop didn′t have much of a competitive edge compared to mine. The products they offered were retively simple and low-end, far from the wide array of colorful and fvorful desserts avaible in my teahouse.

  They only sold cotton candy, in various colors and fvors.

  The cotton candy, dispyed in gss cabinets, looked like clouds that occasionally drifted by, with different colors representing different moods.

  The little food-craving cats, who used to linger in my store, seemed to have shifted all their attention to these soft, dissolving treats. The allure of these sugary puffs quickly overtook their previous affection for the varied desserts at my teahouse.

  Something about this felt wrong to me.

  Ever since I accompanied Jiu Jue on that trip, more accurately, since I caught that fleeting, mysterious gaze on the pne, I had been left with an uneasy feeling—perhaps a sense of discomfort or anxiety, or even a hidden, unknown presence slowly creeping into my life with an unfriendly demeanor. Yet, I couldn′t quite pinpoint it, and it eluded my grasp for now.

  They say a woman's intuition is sharp and precise, and I′m not just a woman—I′m a woman yaokai.

  The name of that new shop was as peculiar as mine—`暮声′ (Mù Shēng means Sound of Twilight).

  I heard the owner of the Sound of Twilight was also a woman.

  I thought, maintaining good retions with neighbors is a good habit. Even if they′re supposed competitors, I should pay a polite visit.

  `Sound of Twilight′ wasn′t far from `Endless′, just across the street. But I had a feeling that what I was about to cross wasn′t just a street′s distance.

  The wind had picked up outside, and the sun had disappeared. The temperature dropped sharply. Pang Zi and Shou Zi were busy rummaging through boxes and cabinets, looking for thick clothes, and the room was left in disarray.

  I wasn't in the mood today to shout at those two troublemakers. Instead, I just stood by the window with my tea cup in hand, watching the steam slowly dissipate from the cup. I stared bnkly at the garden outside, where countless golden leaves gently fell, covering the ground in a bnket of yellow.

  The gaze that had been bothering me for so long seemed to be reflected in each falling leaf...