Chapter 103

Beyond the beaded curtain, a lone figure sat in stillness.

Outside the window, a fine spring rain seemed to fall, moistening all things in silence. Yet a faint trace of dampness lingered in the air.

Yun Shuchen draped a robe over her shoulders and rose from the bed. She inserted a stick of Nine Harmonies incense into the white jade lotus censer, and the lotus blossomed instantly. A wisp of smoke curled out from the heart of the flower.

Since Qing Zhouxue had been studying day and night by her master's order, about half a month had slipped by in leisurely fashion.

After a long, dark night, Yun Shuchen's vision slowly cleared as if a fog were being lifted, and everything before her seemed washed anew in water, sharp and vivid once more. Mountain flowers blazed bright and lovely; emerald trees stood lush and thriving.

All the scenes she had grown tired of seeing, had never paid attention to, now unfurled before her again after the darkness, and in her heart stirred a trace of anticipation.

To regain what was lost—that is fortune in life.

If there was one expectation greater than all others, it was naturally the person in the picture.

When she saw her disciple again, she could not help but gaze at her for a long while.

Qing Zhouxue seemed to have grown somewhat thinner over these days. Of course, it could also be that Yun Shuchen had not seen her for a long time, but subconsciously she felt that her disciple had experienced many matters recently, so it was only natural that she would be tired and thus thinner.

Yun Shuchen thought back to the idea she had entertained earlier—perhaps this was Heaven's will. It seemed the time had come.

When she made a decision, she would often agonize over it for a long while, her thoughts tangling like a spider's web, but in the end she would always sort them out. Yet once she had firmly settled something in her heart, she would find every means to achieve her goal.

These past few days, her little Qing'er had been buried in her books in the study, staying up an extra hour past her usual bedtime. Yun Shuchen usually could not wait that long, so she would nod off and go to sleep by herself each day.

Today she did not sleep.

She sat at the edge of the bed, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger a few times, then let her gaze drift back to her clothes.

Yun Shuchen frowned inwardly.

She did not put on the same robe, but instead changed into something exceedingly thin and flimsy, fussing over the choice for half a day before she was satisfied.

Qing Zhouxue pushed open the door close to midnight. She found the lamp in the bedchamber still burning, and Yun Shuchen was actually still awake.

Yun Shuchen had lit only a single lamp.

Its light was dim and yellow, like murky brewed wine. The beautiful woman beneath the lamp seemed already drowsy, her brows slightly knit, her eyes half-closed. Her black hair lay soft against her body, the ends curling in a tender embrace.

Even though Qing Zhouxue was used to her master changing clothes often, she still asked before going to bed, "Master, the fabric of your garment seems a bit thin. Won't you catch cold?"

Yun Shuchen's expression turned a little odd. "I'm hot."

A hand pressed against her forehead, as if somewhat helpless. "Don't be too fond of the cool."

Qing Zhouxue withdrew her hand and stood by the bed, beginning to shed her outer robe. Yun Shuchen raised her eyes, gazing at her with a deep, lingering look. Unnoticed, her calf pressed against Qing Zhouxue's leg, and with a subtle yet sudden hook, she pulled the girl toward her.

With that pull, Qing'er pitched forward and landed right on top of her, her ink-black hair cascading beside her ears, enclosing the two in a narrow, intimate space. She pressed her down and kissed her without effort.

—That was Yun Shuchen's plan.

...What she had not anticipated was that Qing'er's lower body was rather steady. Her plan misfired, and all she got was a puzzled glance from Qing Zhouxue, who then considerately took a small step closer.

Damn it.

Her disciple was so refined and ethereal, so delicate and graceful, that she always forgot the girl's formidable martial skill.

Qing Zhouxue turned over and climbed onto the bed, and Yun Shuchen asked coolly, "How is your study of the Dual Cultivation arts progressing?"

"I've already gone through more than half of the book; there's only one major section left," Qing Zhouxue replied, her mind so full of exquisite techniques that she had no time to think of anything else.

The path of Dual Cultivation had long been looked down upon, considered a demonic practice of plundering yin and yang. But after delving deeper, Qing Zhouxue discovered that this was not the case. The principles it contained—of Heaven and Earth nurturing all things, of yin and yang cycling in turn—were so self-consistent, even touching broadly on the balance of the five elements.

When reading *The Art of Dual Cultivation*, her heart could not help but grow calm.

Now that Yun Shuchen had brought it up again, she recalled what she had learned today and turned over gently. "Master..."

Finally... it was about to begin. Yun Shuchen's heart gave a sudden leap. Her fingers quietly hooked downward, loosening the collar of her garment; her sash slipped undone as well. She also turned to face her disciple, striving to suppress the faint tremor in her voice as she asked softly, "What is it?"

"The five-element formation and the balance of the five elements in Dual Cultivation share certain similarities. Is there some connection between them?"

"..."

"Master, are you sleepy?"

"Mm."

Qing Zhouxue leaned against her shoulder and quietly closed her eyes, no longer speaking to disturb her.

But she felt her master guide her hand and press it over her heart. The moment she opened her eyes, she heard Yun Shuchen say in a weak voice, "My heart aches. Massage it for me."

Qing Zhouxue hastily scrambled up and was about to get off the bed. Yun Shuchen, momentarily stunned by such a big commotion, caught hold of her disciple's sleeve. "What are you doing?"

Qing Zhouxue looked at her with concern. "If your heart aches, it's not a bruise. What good is massaging it? It might be that your internal injury has flared up again. I'll go get your medicine."

"Come back."

"...Master?"

Yun Shuchen wished she could throw her off Yimeng Cliff again. The girl was simply a log—perhaps if she fell into a river, she might float up somewhere.

Wasn't she the one who had been so eager to practice Dual Cultivation with her? Those fine words young people spoke were indeed the deceit of ghosts.

Yun Shuchen took a deep breath, then gave a gentle smile. "It's nothing. The pain suddenly stopped. But if you leave, I'll feel a bit cold. Don't get down."

"See, you wore too little," Qing Zhouxue admonished seriously, reasoning carefully. "Even if the pain stopped all of a sudden, there must be a hidden problem. What if it hurts again next time? You still need to take your medicine."

Her voice, clear and cool as a spring, sighed softly through the night. "I might as well fetch you some clothes while I'm at it."

By the time she had gone and come back, Yun Shuchen's body had grown half cold. Qing Zhouxue fed her the medicine, helped her swallow it with water, and then carefully draped the slightly thicker garment over her master's shoulders.

Just as she was about to help her put it on, Yun Shuchen's hand loosely wrapped around the back of her disciple's neck and pulled her down, breathing fragrantly by her ear. "Disciple... it's so hot here."

Cold or hot?

Qing Zhouxue was thoroughly confused by her master by now.

She felt something wrap around her ankle. Feeling more carefully, it was a soft, slender vine, growing from some corner outside the window. She looked at her master in astonishment, and then her other leg was entwined as well. Yun Shuchen gave a cold laugh. "Hopeless."

The vine gave a tug, pinning her to the bed. She felt as if she had fallen into a spider's web, and her view was partially blocked by Yun Shuchen's cascading hair. The light from beyond the pearl curtain was dimmed, trapping Qing Zhouxue in this narrow space.

When her master finally cast aside all her indirect, subtle tricks, Qing Zhouxue understood completely. In that moment of enlightenment, she was extraordinarily calm.

She felt no reluctance, lying there quite contentedly, gathering several strands of the woman's cold, silky hair in her hands.

A kiss was pressed to her brow, then her cheek.

The vine withdrew silently as soon as she lay still.

"Master, there's still half an incense stick's time before midnight."

She said this merely to inform her; there was no deeper meaning. Qing Zhouxue was always meticulous in matters of study and cultivation, for many problems encountered in practice arose indeed from cultivators' carelessness.

Dispelling her master's poison was indeed a great matter.

She ought not to be wholly absorbed in this.

"Don't say such mood-ruining things."

Another bite landed near her cheek.

...How was that ruining the mood? Qing Zhouxue's mind grew somewhat hazy amid the fragrant scent. She opened her eyes to look at her and suddenly thought to herself: the scene before her was a fine view indeed.

No, that wasn't right.

A view was something that refreshed the spirit, like towering mountains or deep, secluded valleys. She drifted, recalling the mountain and water scenery she had seen over the years. For one, it was rich in color, because each season—spring, summer, autumn, winter—differed. Her master's eyes were a shimmering black, and her lips a perfect red... Compared to any season, she was all the more vivid.

She seemed a favored stroke of the Creator, gathering in herself all the colors of the world.

Second, mountains and waters were deep and lovely precisely because the peaks rose and fell unevenly, some high, some low. By comparison, to view it from one side and see a range, from another a peak—only then was it fitting...

Qing Zhouxue felt a tickle at her neck, and her thoughts grew hazy. At this moment, she hardly knew what she was thinking, letting her mind drift. She tried to catch hold of a single thread in the chaos, but each time she grasped one, it slipped away like a loach; catching another, it quickly dissolved into a muddle.

In the end, she stopped thinking altogether.

She stared blankly at Yun Shuchen, and the little lamp beside them reflected a point of light in her eyes.

...

...

As time passed, the tiny point of light in Qing Zhouxue's eyes flickered, nearly spilling over as she squinted. Yun Shuchen was not used to being stared at so closely, so she shifted her attention to the girl's face. Her disciple's fair profile was flushed a soft pink.

Qing Zhouxue looked for a long time without moving, and thought to herself: indeed, it wasn't right.

If it made her heart so restless, how could it be called a view?

It was clearly romance—that word was softer, and more fitting. Her master had always been gentle, and Qing Zhouxue rarely harbored messy thoughts toward her. Whenever the shadow of Yun Shuchen passed through her mind, it would be set tall and firm.

But now that shadow wavered. Perhaps Qing Zhouxue could no longer deceive herself—this romance filling her eyes...

Dispelling the poison. She ought to remember those words.

But at this moment, she cast them behind her.

Like something washed in water: the first time stubbornly, and when washed again, the bright colors faded, then were scoured by fine streams until only faint traces remained in her heart.

Sensing that Qing Zhouxue seemed to want to speak but hesitated, Yun Shuchen asked gently, "What do you want to say?"

"I want you to..." The words came very, very softly. Qing Zhouxue lowered her lashes, looking down, gesturing vaguely. "I've thought of it for many years. But somehow, Master, I feel that if I had told you then, you would not have given me what I wished."

"Enough." Yun Shuchen's ears burned, and she hurriedly interrupted her disciple's shameless talk. "I understand. Shut up."

"Oh." Her hand pointed, and she murmured, "And there."

Her gesticulating disciple was truly vexing at times. Yun Shuchen thought to herself, as if she felt not the slightest embarrassment. Who taught her such a temperament?—

Thinking it over, she could not help but laugh. It seemed she had taught her that herself.

Yun Shuchen rested her chin on Qing Zhouxue's bent leg, leaning against it occasionally. When she turned her gaze, perhaps the moonlight outside the window finally fell into her eyes.

Everything she looked at seemed bathed in bright moonlight—white and clear, white and unstained by dust.

It was said that even heroes cannot pass the test of beauty. Yun Shuchen took a deep breath, vaguely recalling this saying. In her youth, she had scorned those who indulged in lust and neglected their duties.

Now she herself was about to fall before this very barrier.

Qing'er's voice gradually grew... like a taut string plucked, leaving tiny tremors in its wake. But her gaze did not waver or hide; she still loved to look at her.

What was she looking at, after all? What was there to see?

Yun Shuchen, made uneasy by that stare, had no choice but to look away.

"Master is so beautiful..." Qing'er murmured softly. "I love looking at you like this."

Though her master had averted her eyes, the sounds from that mouth—those pleasing words—drew her back.

She sighed. "Shut up."

Her disciple truly shut up, all obedient, just as she always was.

Then she began to regret it.

Qing Zhouxue was not a silver-tongued speaker, and that was why Yun Shuchen loved to hear her talk. What woman did not enjoy sincere praise?

Qing Zhouxue said nothing, only watched Yun Shuchen. Perhaps she was moved beyond measure—her heart was like a little boat bobbing on the water, carried by wave after wave until at last it reached the shore. When it struck the bank, the boat shook hard, then settled steadily in the water.

Both of them were drenched in sweat, as if they had just been pulled from a river.

Qing Zhouxue touched Yun Shuchen's flushed cheek. It was not makeup but heat.

That heat came from her own soul, simmering over a low flame.

"I..." she whispered, "the poison has flared up."

A graceful shadow stirred, then another. Qing Zhouxue's body was soft, but her breath hitched and her heart pounded wildly.

She rarely felt such things. Yet now, strangely, she suppressed the heat around her and instead quietly savored this fierce heartbeat.

Her heart was beating.

In its unceasing throb, her chest ached faintly from the impact. Qing Zhouxue felt her nostrils filled with the faint fragrance of her master's hair. It did not suffocate her, but amid this ever-quickening pulse, it made every breath come as hard as a drowning person's gasp. Strange yet familiar.

Something that made her more like ordinary folk.

She treasured every such experience of emotion, like a parched field that had never known rain and, when it chanced upon a few drops of dew, had every crack close in satisfaction.

Such joy.

And then she embraced her master face to face.

Yun Shuchen felt their sweat sticking together in that unbridled, reckless feeling she rarely allowed. She had seldom been so close to another, but now... now she found it deeply satisfying.

She let out a long sigh, tilted her head back slightly, and looked at the pale white patches of moonlight on the ceiling. The window had not been shut tight, and light seemed to leak in from outside.

When had the moon become so bright?

At first, it had been half veiled by clouds; now, little by little, the clouds parted to reveal the moon, and its silvery light expanded bit by bit. At last, the mist vanished entirely, and a round white jade moon hung at the apex of the sky.

This moon was very round, like the protective jade pendants children wore—thin cord, plump jade, with a single spot of crimson in the center, strung tightly.

"Master."

Qing Zhouxue was also admiring the moon, but she did not look out the window—she looked at the one reflected in Yun Shuchen's eyes.

No, one in each eye—that made two moons.

But they were not the cold moon of mournful poetry; they were warm, suffused with an old, timeworn shimmer. Her master's eyes were naturally beautiful, and when they held this hint of shy, warm color, they became all the more captivating.

Why was she shy?

Perhaps her master was right—because she herself was a person who knew no shame. But in many moments, Yun Shuchen would clear her throat, turn away her head, avert her gaze, and even cast her a reproachful glance at places Qing Zhouxue saw no need for shame.

That expression was always endearing. Qing Zhouxue held back from exposing her master's strange reserve in certain matters. Partly to keep her from flying into a temper, and partly perhaps to be able to see that little charm again—such a petty thought, which perhaps she herself had not noticed, yet she acted on it instinctively.

Qing Zhouxue leaned against her, relaxed, then tilted her head to nuzzle her cheek. A fine layer of sweat clung there, and it felt soft and smooth as she pressed against it. She felt like white jade tofu lifted from clear water—so comfortable to lean on.

A strand of Yun Shuchen's hair lay against her ear, coiling like silk. When Qing Zhouxue kissed her temple, she inadvertently caught a lock between her lips.

Since ancient times, there were small birds like the jingwei that, holding a twig in their beaks, could flap their wings and fly across a vast ocean. She now felt like such a bird, holding a thread of her conviction in her mouth, and thus was utterly at peace. Whatever lay ahead, all worries dissolved in that moment.

Perhaps she could fill that boundless sea.

...

...

Now the moon was very round and had nearly begun its descent. Outside, the rain still fell, dripping persistently, as if it would continue till dawn. In an occasional gust of wind, Qing Zhouxue caught the damp scent of earth and the fresh fragrance of rain-slicked leaves. She breathed in again, and there was also the faint, dreamlike scent of Nine Harmonies incense, soothing to the spirit.

"Master, shall we sleep?"

The wind, indeed, had stopped.

Yun Shuchen seemed to summon one last bit of strength to kiss her lips once more. But she moved slowly, crawling to Qing Zhouxue's mouth, and the moment she touched, the kiss was dizzy with intoxication. Qing Zhouxue lay still, watching her through lowered lashes as she pressed close, then sealed her lips.

After that kiss, her breathing evened out, and she made no further move. Nor did she show any sign of withdrawing. Qing Zhouxue's hand stroked her sweat-damp cheek, but her whole body was now pinned motionless, and she could not rise to wipe the sweat from either of them.

It seemed she had fallen asleep.

She could not move too much, nor could she use magic to lift her. Next time, she would remember to keep a basin of hot water nearby, so she would not have to wake her master to fetch it.

Just for this one day, then.

She watched her for a long while, and a sense of contentment welled up. Then she pulled her down, laid her flat slowly, and embraced her as she always did. Their hair tangled together, their clothes lay crumpled in a heap, impossible to tell whose was whose.

Outside the window, the spring rain fell on; inside, the lamp had gone out.

They slept in each other's arms, with a companion on the pillow—a dream of fulfillment, a warm nest of love.