Chapter 28

The moon in the mortal realm hung as round as the one over the immortal peaks, and the tangyuan dropped into their bowls resembled a full moon sinking into the heart of a quiet lake.

Qing Zhouxue picked up a white glutinous rice ball with her chopsticks, gave it a slight squeeze, and watched the black sesame filling ooze out. Curious, she scooped up a bit of the dark paste and dabbed it into her mouth.

"Haven't you ever had tangyuan before?"

Yun Shuchen frowned as she watched her disciple eat—the ball was squashed but still mostly intact.

"I never have, and A Jin has never made them either." Qing Zhouxue swallowed and answered slowly, "It's too sweet, a bit cloying. But it's still very good."

Earlier, Yun Shuchen had been struck by a whim, so she had carried her disciple on the wind and flown straight down into the bustling mortal world.

In that era, few inner disciples were paired off. The Moon Lantern Festival gave them a half-day break, but there wasn't much to do, so they had merely strolled at the foot of the mountain.

Since this was a rare festival, there were plenty of delicious foods and fun things down there, and it would have been a waste to miss them.

Sure enough, her naive little disciple was utterly captivated by the street snacks. Qing Zhouxue rarely went out in her childhood and disliked crowds. Whenever she encountered a bustling market, she always avoided the stream of people. She had assumed markets only sold jewelry, trinkets, and daily necessities; she had never experienced the wide variety of folk foods, which came with a rich aroma of cooking smoke.

Yun Shuchen found it amusing. Her disciple treated money like dirt and saw beauty as nothing but pink skeletons, yet she stopped dead in her tracks for a bowl of tangyuan.

She was truly simple and endearing.

Yun Shuchen pushed her disciple's bowl aside and pulled her up. "There's more than just this. Silly child, if you fill up on this, you won't have room for anything else."

Qing Zhouxue glanced at the bowl, a hint of regret in her eyes. "Mm."

"The wonton noodles are over here... Strange, since when did they start making Beijing-style yundou rolls?"

"Master, what is that?" Qing Zhouxue frowned, looking at a bowl of bright red oily soup in someone's hands, covered with chili flakes and sesame seeds.

"Probably youpo lazi."

As she spoke, a pungent, peppery smell made them both cough. Yun Shuchen laughed while wiping her tears and pulled her disciple away quickly. "We'll come back on our way home."

The Moon Lantern Festival was a traditional celebration in the Taichu Sect area. Legend said the moon goddess blessed the people, and they took the auspicious sign of "stars surrounding the moon" by hanging lanterns at every doorstep, like a glimmering galaxy—truly a beautiful sight.

Under the lamplight, their shadows slanted, stretching long.

Qing Zhouxue let herself be led, strolling along behind. Yun Shuchen held her wrist through the thin fabric.

The wrist was slightly cool, and Qing Zhouxue suspected her master was cold. Without overthinking, she turned her hand and clasped it firmly, pressing skin to skin, using the faint warmth of her palm to heat her.

Yun Shuchen was a little startled and seemed to want to pull back, but her disciple's grip was firm.

She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and let her do as she pleased.

Qing Zhouxue was full of novelty along the way, savoring the sourness of sour plum soup, the sweetness of sugar figurines, and the heavily seasoned, bright red skewers that were so spicy they warmed her limbs and bones.

These flavors, which were not exactly bland or balanced, were very different from the path she cultivated.

"Didn't you say you don't like spicy?" Yun Shuchen quietly slipped her hand free, and her discomfort eased only then.

Qing Zhouxue's lips were red, as if the spice had brought out the color. She smiled. "It looks spicy, but it's tolerable. It tastes good... Before I knew it, we've walked the whole street."

Yun Shuchen's gaze lowered to the nearly finished skewer in her disciple's hand and nodded toward it. "Let me try some."

"But Uncle Liu said you should avoid spicy and stick to a plain diet." Qing Zhouxue's smile faded; she frowned seriously.

"A little is fine, just occasionally."

"...Mm." Qing Zhouxue hesitated, then picked a piece of tofu, but the other hand took her wrist and turned the skewer. Yun Shuchen tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, leaned down, and bit a small bite.

She was suddenly very close, and Qing Zhouxue could even see her long, individual eyelashes. She unconsciously held her breath, and the hand holding the skewer loosened slightly.

Yun Shuchen only sampled a small amount. The salty spiciness awakened her senses, finally capturing a hint of vividness in her years of bland diet. She often coughed, so she shouldn't have such food, and now she was a little overwhelmed by the stimuli.

Qing Zhouxue saw her frown and a thin layer of tears forming in her eyes, and she couldn't help but search for water. Yun Shuchen suppressed the itch in her throat and pressed down on her disciple's shoulder. "I'm fine."

When they passed the next corner, Qing Zhouxue quietly threw away the snack in her hand. From now on, she would never eat such spicy things in front of her master.

They had planned to look at the lanterns, but as they turned the corner, a dark object flew out from the crowd and nearly hit them.

Yun Shuchen used a thin barrier to catch it. She looked closer—it wasn't an object but a child so thin they were almost shrunken.

The child was bounced back to the ground, then pinned down by several burly men who rushed over. Onlookers gathered to watch: a shout, a crisp slap, and blood trickled from the child's mouth.

"No money and you still eat without paying? Let me teach you a lesson on behalf of your father and mother!"

At first, some felt pity, but when they heard the child was a thief, they fell silent and just watched the spectacle.

A fist the size of a vinegar jar crashed into the child's frail frame. At first, the child kicked a couple of times, but then became listless, spitting out only a bit of bloody froth.

"Stop."

Curious, the onlookers turned. A richly dressed woman stepped out from the crowd, frowning slightly at the bloodstains on the ground, then looked up and sized up the burly men.

One man was about to scold her, "What woman dares to interfere?" But he was perceptive enough to notice the white-clothed girl beside the woman, who wore a gleaming sword and had an embroidered pattern of the Taichu Sect's spirit cranes on her sash.

They were clearly together.

The Taichu Sect was well known in this area.

He, a mortal, couldn't afford to offend them, so he calmed down and explained, "This girl's a thief; I was just teaching her a lesson. Immortal, please don't come too close, lest you dirty your eyes."

Yun Shuchen took a silver ingot from her handkerchief. "That child is nearly beaten to death. Take this money and let her go. Is it enough?"

"Enough, quite enough." With real gold and silver in hand, his face broke into smiles, and he motioned to his men behind him. "Let's go."

The crowd, seeing no more drama, dispersed like birds. The ground was empty, leaving only the child and many messy footprints. She slowly turned over, curled into a ball, still trembling.

Yun Shuchen gathered her skirts and stepped closer, speaking gently. "Why did you take someone else's things?"

The child whimpered and said timidly, "...Hungry. Haven't eaten for two days."

"Would you like to come back with me?"

Yun Shuchen suddenly spoke. The words sounded familiar—they made Qing Zhouxue think of the first day she met her master. Her master had asked her the same way, gently.

The child blinked blankly, then nodded vigorously, like a pestle pounding garlic.

"What's your name?"

"My surname is Yu, my name is... Ying."

"Yu Ying, is it?" Yun Shuchen straightened up and glanced at her disciple, a hint of meaning in her eyes.

Qing Zhouxue stared back, obviously not understanding what she meant. Yun Shuchen raised an eyebrow. "What are you staring for? Take her."

Qing Zhouxue looked at the little thing—a dirty, black-faced mess, like an opera clown—then at Yun Shuchen, who had quietly stepped a few meters away, and finally understood: she thought the child was dirty.

Her master found her dirty, and her disciple, no matter how cleanly she liked things, couldn't refuse. She sighed and cast a few cleaning spells on the child, who looked a bit better—no longer a pitch-black lump.

She picked the child up. She was skinny and light, but she smelled as if she'd been soaked in trash.

Qing Zhouxue took a breath and held it.

She held that breath all the way from the foot of the mountain to the top.

Yun Shuchen was about to return to her peak but said to Qing Zhouxue, "Take the child to the outer sect. Some disciple will arrange care."

Qing Zhouxue said yes.

"Master, do you have a habit of picking up children?"

Back at the peak, after taking off her outer robe, Qing Zhouxue asked out of curiosity, remembering the incident.

"Why do you think so?" Yun Shuchen was surprised.

"Well," Qing Zhouxue said seriously, "I also just latched onto Heyi Peak that way."

"You, I divined with my hexagrams." Yun Shuchen smiled, then said with a touch of helplessness, "It's not that I like picking up children. It's that that child just now had some special aptitude."

"Special?"

Yun Shuchen hummed in affirmation, apparently not intending to elaborate.

By then, the moon was high in the sky, and all around was silent in the wind. At night, A Jin had no duties and was already off somewhere, courting cats in the moonlight.

After bathing, Qing Zhouxue came out and saw her master, with traces of weariness at the corners of her eyes, also looking unusually flushed.

Between her index and middle fingers, she held a small, white jade wine cup.

"Master, before you sleep," Qing Zhouxue walked over, mixing medicine in her hand, "Don't forget this."

Yun Shuchen shook her head, propped her chin on her hand, and looked at her, curving her lips. "I don't want to sleep."

"Every year on this day, the Moon Lantern Festival," she gazed at the full moon in the sky, "I always want to drink a little wine."

"It's bound to be a bit harmful to your health." Qing Zhouxue held the edge of the cup and said softly, "...Please don't drink too much."

Yun Shuchen rested her head on her hand, closed her eyes, and said, "Not much. Just a tiny bit." Then, as if remembering something, she lifted her eyes to her disciple. "After all these years, you've grown up. Drink a few cups with me, how about it?"

Qing Zhouxue sat across from her and took the cup. The wine was pale red, with an unusual hue and a sweet, intoxicating fragrance. She hesitated a moment, then tilted her head back and drank it all.

"Bitter." A pungent taste spread; her scalp tingled from the bitterness. She didn't see how it was good.

"It's not all bitter." Yun Shuchen gave her a sideways glance. "It starts sweet on the tongue, turns spicy, and only then leaves a pure bitterness. Someone named it 'Half a Life.'"

"Does the name have any meaning?"

"Mm... good question, it does have some story." Yun Shuchen thought for a moment, then continued, "In infancy, one feels carefree and content, savoring sweetness. In youth, one is sharp and intolerant of any failure, tasting spiciness. Having walked through half a life, one realizes not everything goes as one wishes, and when looking back, it's already bitter. The calculations of the past seem like a golden millet dream, fading to nothing."

"That's one interpretation. Another is a bit more cliché. It's said the wine was brewed by a man whose wife died, containing the loves and quarrels of their first half together and the bitterness of separation in death for the second half."

Her eyes, with tipsy tenderness, held a bowl of autumn water and looked at Qing Zhouxue. "Which interpretation do you prefer?"

"They're about the same." Qing Zhouxue said honestly, "I don't know much about wine, Master. To me, it's just unpleasant."

Yun Shuchen leaned on her arm and laughed silently. A lonely look gathered in her eyes, but hid under her long lashes.

Qing Zhouxue saw it clearly. She slowly frowned, brought the small cup to her lips, and took another silent sip. It was still bitter enough to sting.

Her mood stirred, pulled by Yun Shuchen.

The ancients said to drown one's sorrows in wine. What kind of sorrow was so deep that it needed such bitter wine to suppress?