Chapter 5

From that day on, Qing Zhouxue began her career of running errands across the various peaks.

On the seventh day, she carried a letter from Yun Shuchen to the Sect Leader's hall.

The Sect Leader was a warm and kind-hearted man. Seeing the child exhausted to the point of trembling legs, he couldn't help but feel pity, so he kept her in the hall to rest for a good while, treating her to tea and refreshments.

During this time, he quietly pinched her wrist bones, slipping a wisp of spiritual sense into her.

What he discovered was a spiritual root so pure it could only be described as crystalline—truly stunning.

A child like this was suited for cultivation; with proper nurturing, she would have a bright future.

Moreover, Qing Zhouxue was gentle and respectful, spoke little, and possessed a quietness that bordered on an overly mature composure. Compared to the mischievous little monkeys under his own care, he found her increasingly endearing and developed a desire to treasure her talent.

If he could coax this little girl into his own faction, that wouldn't be a bad idea.

The Sect Leader felt no shame about poaching a disciple; instead, he thought that woman Yun Shuchen was quite black-hearted. Although climbing mountains was good for physical and mental health, she shouldn't bully a little girl like this.

When it was time to part, he handed her a small token. "Little friend, keep this well. Consider it payment for your hard work running errands."

"This is..." The token had some weight to it, feeling heavy in her palm. Qing Zhouxue instinctively sensed it was something important.

"The Sect Leader's token."

The Sect Leader looked at her compassionately, speaking in a coaxing tone. "Whoever sees this token sees the Sect Leader himself. In the future, if Elder Yun orders you around again and you're unwilling, just show this, and she won't dare touch you."

"This is too precious; I can't accept it." Qing Zhouxue furrowed her brows. In the folk tales of immortal cultivation she'd read as a child, such items were unique.

The Sect Leader thought for a moment, then pulled a pouch of wooden tokens from his pocket and dumped them clattering across the table. With great generosity, he said, "Xuantie items are indeed too precious for a child, and inconvenient to carry. No matter, I have plenty of maple wood ones here."

"They're replaced every five years, and occasionally, when a great cultivator ascends, they release special commemorative designs. Pick one you like and take it."

"..."

And so, Qing Zhouxue returned with the day's earnings—a Sect Leader's token.

She trod through the spring snow back to Heyi Peak. After days of relentless training, her pace had quickened; today she could see the faint purple evening glow beyond the peak, a gentle, affectionate purple. Her legs were no longer as weak as before; now they were much stronger.

This token.

Qing Zhouxue thought for a moment and then hid it away. She had received Yun Shuchen's favor—some immortal method that protected her from calamity, and she hadn't harmed anyone since. Now she had her own little nest, and three meals a day were quite decent.

She was already content.

Although Elder Yun's tasks were pure torment, as long as she was happy, that was fine.

Qing Zhouxue had no way to repay Yun Shuchen, and thus held no resentment. This Sect Leader's token was unnecessary.

Dinner had already been served. Today there were a few beautifully shaped four-happiness meatballs, which delighted children.

A plate of four had been left neatly for her, as if specially prepared. Flowing spiritual energy kept them warm, and they were the perfect temperature when she took a bite.

"Delicious," she said, looking at the calico cat.

The little cat stared back with green eyes and mewed.

After eating, she cleaned up and returned to her own room. The furniture had been prepared, and new bedding had been washed and delivered, so she no longer needed to float in Yun Shuchen's room all night.

Her chosen room was further inside, so to reach it, she had to pass by Yun Shuchen's door.

Through a layer of window gauze, she saw the dim lamplight within; the woman was probably still awake.

For some reason, Qing Zhouxue always slowed her steps when passing her door.

Over the past few days, apart from mealtimes, they had few chances to meet. Yun Shuchen occasionally joked with her, occasionally ruffled her hair, but more often than not, she treated her as if she weren't there.

Qing Zhouxue lay on her bed, rubbing her sore legs. This was one of the lessons she'd learned in the past seven days: if she didn't massage her tightened legs, they would hurt so much the next day that she couldn't get out of bed.

The nights on Heyi Peak were very quiet.

When Qing Zhouxue lived in her hometown, she used to hear neighbors fussing over children, couples arguing, and the occasional distant barking of dogs and chirping of insects.

Here, aside from the sound of wind, there was no other noise. Once the windows and doors were shut, the world seemed to shrink to just this one corner.

Just as she was rubbing and pressing, she heard a faint commotion from far away, as if something had dropped—jarring in the silent night.

The direction? Yun Shuchen's room.

Qing Zhouxue paused her rubbing, then after a moment, slipped on her clothes, gathered her collar, got out of bed, and climbed onto the wooden table by the window. She opened the window a crack and pressed her eye to the gap, looking toward that room.

The lamp was still dimly lit.

Should she go check?

The rough texture of the red string around her ankle seemed to remind her: things wouldn't get worse just because she got closer.

Qing Zhouxue steadied herself, and finally knocked on her door.

"Enter."

The room was silent for a moment, then came a faint word of permission.

As she pushed open the door, the bitter scent of medicine filled her nostrils. Qing Zhouxue looked at the slightly messy floor—shards of porcelain, dark brown liquid.

The woman's figure behind the beaded curtain was blurry, but she could see her sit up, accompanied by a few muffled coughs.

"You?" Yun Shuchen lifted a corner of the curtain, revealing half of her delicate face. "You've come at the right time. Pour me a cup of hot tea."

Qing Zhouxue lifted the teapot from the side table with both hands, carefully poured half a cup, and handed it to her.

"Are you ill?"

"Just an old ailment." She took a sip, then frowned. "Close the door tightly; the cold wind is seeping in."

Qing Zhouxue looked back. She had closed the door lightly when she came in, so it wasn't fully shut, leaving a small gap. But she hadn't felt cold standing at the door herself, while Yun Shuchen, reclining half-covered in blankets, could sense the chill.

She quickly closed the door properly, and only then did Yun Shuchen relax her hold on the blanket.

"Then do you need to take your medicine?"

So even cultivators could fall ill, frail enough to fear the cold.

Qing Zhouxue revised her understanding.

"I'll brew it tomorrow. I accidentally knocked it over just now." Yun Shuchen sighed. "The night is as cold as water, and the medicine tastes even more bitter."

"Good medicine is bitter but beneficial to illness. The bitterness of medicine has little to do with the hour," Qing Zhouxue said.

Her voice was soft and clear, sounding crisp in the bedroom, but the words were steady and mature, lacking any childishness.

Yun Shuchen couldn't help but think of her ancestor master, who had been dead for over a hundred years; he had spoken in the same tone over two centuries ago.

She smiled. "You're quite talkative today."

Qing Zhouxue was stunned by her own words, realizing they might be disrespectful to Elder Yun. She lowered her eyes and was silent for a moment. "I... I'll help you clean up here."

She crouched down and carefully picked up the broken porcelain pieces with her hands, wrapping them in a handkerchief. Her technique was clumsy; Yun Shuchen glanced over and saw that those small hands didn't flinch, but were already marked with several tiny cuts.

From the way she brewed tea and picked up shards, it was clear she hadn't done much housework at home—she was a cherished child.

Her clothes were simple, so she wasn't from a wealthy family.

Her speech was refined, and she recognized all the characters—likely influenced by her elders. Given her unremarkable background, her elders were probably poor scholars or the like.

Yun Shuchen propped herself up lazily, watching her work while calculating inwardly. She had lived through countless years, watching dynasties rise and fall. A child's background could be picked apart in a glance; there was no need to ask a single question.

So why had this child come eagerly to her door in the dead of night? Not truly out of concern for her well-being. More likely, this child had a scale in her heart, feeling she'd taken advantage of another and thus wanting to do something to compensate.

Yun Shuchen lay down on her side, listening to the careful sounds behind her, which eventually faded as she cleaned the floor. She closed her eyes. Qing Zhouxue thought she was asleep, so she didn't disturb her, quietly slipping out, this time remembering to shut the door tightly.

But this stubborn simplicity was quite sincere, and not at all annoying.

The next day, Yun Shuchen was still feeling unwell and didn't send Qing Zhouxue running around. In fact, she didn't even get out of bed.

When Qing Zhouxue had breakfast, she ended up staring at the calico cat, both of them wide-eyed. Today's meal was light—congee with minced lotus root and osmanthus, soft and sticky yet crispy, with the fragrance of rice blended with flowers, leaving a sweet aftertaste.

In the afternoon, with nothing to do, Qing Zhouxue wandered into the courtyard.

The front yard had a large locust tree, its branches and leaves lush enough to shade half the courtyard.

Further inside, there was a covered bridge, with ponds on either side filled with vibrant, plump carp that clustered together in brilliant colors. A few green stones were placed on the water's surface, allowing one to cross to a small pavilion in the middle of the pond.

From a distance, she saw a familiar figure in the pavilion.

Yun Shuchen beckoned her over.

The weather today was clear, and the snow on the ground showed signs of melting, revealing fresh green grass.

Late spring had finally shown some warmth. The beauty in illness looked much better than she had under the lamplight the previous night.

On the stone table in the pavilion, medicine was being kept warm over a small fire, and candied fruit was set beside it.

Qing Zhouxue thought to herself, so she really does fear bitterness.

"I've heard that when people are used to climbing mountains," Yun Shuchen said softly, "they feel uncomfortable if they miss even a day."

The child's legs trembled.

"Today, you may be uncomfortable," Yun Shuchen said with a smile. "What are you trembling for? You seem afraid of me?"

Qing Zhouxue pursed her lower lip and said nothing, just looked at her.

"Little silent gourd."

Yun Shuchen made this judgment, then, as easily as pouring tea, she poured out a cup of thick, dark, viscous medicine right in front of the child. Then she lowered her eyes, held the cup in her hand, and blew a fake breath over it.

What happened next was sudden.

Before Qing Zhouxue could react, the bitter cup rim was pressed firmly against her mouth.