The garden behind the tavern had always been a place of quiet mystery—a pocket of wildness where the Fox Spirit cultivated herbs for potions, flowers for poisons, and the occasional vegetable purely to spite the Death Queen's attempts at gardening. But in recent weeks, something new had taken root.
Luo Feng noticed it first when he caught the scent of something oddly familiar on the breeze—not the usual floral perfumes or earthy musk of growing things, but something sharper, more visceral. The tang of embarrassment. The metallic bite of regret. The unmistakable oh-gods-why aroma of memories best left forgotten.
He followed the scent to a corner of the garden he'd never paid much attention to before. What he found made his stomach drop.
A riot of flowers bloomed in neat, orderly rows, their petals shimmering with an unnatural iridescence. Each blossom pulsed faintly, as if breathing, and as Luo Feng stepped closer, he realized with dawning horror that he recognized them.
There—that one with the slightly crumpled blue petals. As he leaned in, the flower shivered, and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of his own voice, younger and significantly more panicked:
"No no no no—WHY IS MY HAND ON FIRE—"
A burst of flames, a yelp, and the unmistakable thud of a teenage Luo Feng hitting the ground. The flower's petals folded in on themselves with a sound suspiciously like muffled laughter.
Next to it, a delicate white flower tinged with pink at the edges swayed gently. When Luo Feng reached out to touch it, the petals parted with a sigh, releasing a scene that made him want to crawl into a hole and die:
There he was, half-conscious after a particularly brutal training session with Li Qing, blearily staring up at the Death Queen as she loomed over him with a healing potion. His mouth, ever the traitor, had slurred:
"Thanks... Mom..."
The Death Queen's expression—somewhere between horrified and murderous—flickered in the air before the memory dissolved into the dramatic swell of violin strings. Someone had scored his humiliation.
"Like them?"
Luo Feng nearly jumped out of his skin. The Fox Spirit materialized at his elbow, her grin wide enough to show every sharp tooth. She plucked the "Mom" flower and tucked it behind her ear, where it continued to play the violin soundtrack at a softer volume.
"You've been collecting these?" Luo Feng demanded, gesturing wildly at the garden.
The Fox Spirit shrugged, tail flicking. "Call it... archival work. Preserving history." She waved a hand, and the garden shimmered, revealing dozens—hundreds—more flowers, each one pulsing with some mortifying moment from his past. "I've got your first failed attempt at flirting with Li Qing over here—oh, and this one's when you tripped into the Void Emperor's lap and called him 'comfy.'"
Luo Feng buried his face in his hands. "I hate you."
"No you don't." She patted his cheek. "You love me. And also, I'm charging admission."
By sundown, the garden was packed.
Demons, minor deities, and curious mortals lined up to pay a small fee (three copper coins or one embarrassing secret) to tour the Fox Spirit's latest attraction. Business was booming.
"Step right up!" the Fox Spirit called, playing the role of carnival barker to perfection. "Witness the legendary Luo Feng in his most vulnerable moments! Marvel at the faceplant heard across three realms!"
Li Qing, who had been watching the proceedings with her usual icy detachment, chose that moment to stroll past the payment box—a carved wooden chest that was rapidly filling with coins and the occasional cursed trinket. Her sleeve just happened to brush against it as she passed.
Frost spread across the lock with a decisive click.
The Fox Spirit gasped in outrage. "Cold-hearted sabotage!"
Li Qing didn't even break stride. "Accident."
Not to be outdone, the Death Queen materialized at the garden's entrance with a sign of her own:
"Blackmail Rights Available!
Customized humiliations tailored to your needs!
Ask about our bulk discounts for enemies!"
She had already lined up several interested demons by the time Luo Feng intervened.
"This is my life," he protested weakly.
The Death Queen arched a brow. "And?"
As the night wore on, the garden took on a life of its own. The flowers, sensing their audience, began to perform—blooming in sequence to create a sort of greatest-hits reel of Luo Feng's most cringe-worthy moments. The "Mom" incident played on loop near the entrance, much to the Death Queen's mingled horror and delight.
The Fox Spirit, ever the entrepreneur, had started selling snacks—popcorn flavored with secondhand embarrassment, candied regret, and "I-Can't-Believe-You-Did-That" caramel apples.
Luo Feng considered setting the whole garden on fire.
But then he caught sight of Li Qing, standing at the edge of the crowd, her lips pressed tightly together in a vain attempt to suppress a smile as the flower displaying his first disastrous attempt at ice-skating (which had ended with him embedded in a snowbank) played to uproarious laughter.
The Death Queen, meanwhile, was taking notes.
And the Fox Spirit—
The Fox Spirit met his eyes across the crowd, her grin unrepentant, the "Mom" flower still tucked behind her ear.
Luo Feng sighed.
Some things, he supposed, were worth remembering.
Even if they did come with a pay-per-view option.
END OF CHAPTER 107