Chapter 57

She was completely unguarded with her, as if she were invitingly pliant. Even her teasing, which was shameless in its playfulness, was carried out with an artless, natural ease.

Perhaps it was because she didn't understand matters of the heart that she could speak so frankly, as naturally as drinking water or eating.

How could such a girl exist?

Yun Shuchen closed her eyes to hide the distraction in her thoughts and let out a faint sigh. She lay stiffly, watching the moonlight shift across the window, first climbing up and then slipping down, until she remained awake throughout the night.

At her age, occasional stirrings like this were perfectly normal. It was just... too sudden. Yun Shuchen reasoned calmly; she couldn't be sure they were directed at her, after all.

It was her habit, once a matter exceeded her forecasts, to seek the most fundamental conclusion. This way, she could always plan a hundred steps ahead, consider matters thoroughly, and not fear unexpected complications.

The next day, Qing Zhouxue slept in a bit longer than usual, but her master, contrary to her ways, rose early. Qing reached out with her eyes still closed toward the edge of the bed and could only touch bedding that still held a remnant of warmth.

She felt considerably better now, refreshed and clear-headed. Some of yesterday's unusual bodily sensations seemed to match the storybooks she had read, but those volumes had been collected by Yun Shuchen long ago, and Qing Zhouxue had deliberately avoided recalling them too vividly. When she tried to remember the musty pages of those memories, she found nothing.

In fact, the few books Qing Zhouxue had skimmed, though open in her view, were quite reserved compared to more salacious works. She couldn't glean from them the complete picture of what was happening.

She sat on the bed for a moment, thinking, but still couldn't grasp why she had felt those strange, unfamiliar sensations the day before.

After dressing and leaving the room, she found no trace of her master's graceful figure. So she headed to the training grounds alone, determined to resume her practice after several days' delay.

Upon arriving, she discovered that her fellow disciples were not practicing but were busy settling the refugees from across the border.

Senior Sister Bai Su led the disciples from Medicine Peak, roping off a portion of the spacious training grounds, setting up tents, treating the sick, and bustling about in a flurry of activity.

On the other side, Lin Xunzhen knitted her brows as she scribbled calculations and then looked up toward the training grounds. "No, something's off. We agreed on six thousand people, but now we've surpassed that by a full thousand. How did they all get in?"

Chen Lianqing appeared troubled. "Just now, when the barrier was opened, those people rushed in recklessly, shoving their heads together. Even with Senior Brother Xiao Hong and the other Sword Pavilion disciples helping, it was hard to hold them back. We also had to be careful not to hurt them, so perhaps a few extra slipped in."

"With your 'just a few extra,' where am I supposed to find space to accommodate them?" Lin Xunzhen stared at the training grounds in vexation. Since Yun Shuchen's renovation, it had been quite spacious, but now it was packed with refugees like ants, and a portion of the space was reserved for Medicine Peak.

Among the dense crowd, one figure in brightly colored clothing stood out clearly. She moved back and forth, handing out numbered tokens to the incoming people. After finally finishing, she looked back and saw a teeming mass still remained. Ruan Mingzhu shouted from afar, infusing her voice with inner energy, "Hey—I've run out of tokens. Any more?"

"Alternatively, maybe those without tokens should just be sent back," Chen Lianqing said with a sigh from the side. "The Sect Leader gave a quota of six thousand. As disciples, we just need to follow the rules."

Lin Xunzhen was weighing her options, but she thought more deeply. If they gave these people hope only to dash it, those who missed out on tokens would likely become desperate and cause a riot, which would be even harder to manage. And how would they explain that to the Sect Leader?

Xiao Hong plucked the blade of grass from his mouth and said, "In my view, aren't the isolation rooms on the Sect Leader's mountain still empty? We might as well relocate the poor souls copying scriptures in there for now, and deal with the rest later."

Chen Lianqing looked at him with disdain. "Is this just to spare yourself from copying scriptures later?"

Although Xiao Hong's idea was a bit outlandish, it struck Lin Xunzhen like a flash of insight. Her eyes brightened slightly. "Earlier, Elder Yun ordered the opening of spirit mines, and the holes left behind are meant for cave dwellings and storage—they haven't been put to use yet. If we pick out some of those, squeezing in a thousand people shouldn't be too difficult."

More tokens had been sent for. Ruan Mingzhu was not in a hurry to hand them out now. She glanced up and caught sight of Qing Zhouxue. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Oh, when did you get back? In a bit, come help me hand out tokens."

Qing Zhouxue had been standing to the side for a long time, watching the scene with a thoughtful expression. "These people... how did they come to be in such a state?"

"Outside, there's war, and likely famine stirring up this lot," Ruan Mingzhu said. "...Look at that little girl. She's nothing but skin and bones. It's pitiful."

Qing Zhouxue followed her gaze. The small figure could barely be recognized as a child; she looked like a little skeleton tottering along, a large head balanced on a frame of bones.

As she walked, she suddenly slowed and then slowly fell to her knees, her oversized skull—so big compared to her tiny frame—thudding against the ground.

Ruan Mingzhu was startled. Some disciples from Medicine Peak caught sight of it too and hurriedly lifted the girl, carrying her into the large tent.

But after a moment, Bai Su lifted the tent flap and came out, letting out a sigh. Behind her, two people carried out a light, small corpse, seeming lighter than the white cloth draped over it.

"She could still be saved!" Ruan Mingzhu said incredulously, grabbing Bai Su's wrist. "Why didn't you save her?"

Bai Su met her junior's earnest gaze, and a wave of guilt suddenly rose in her heart. "I..."

Before she could finish, Ruan Mingzhu, with brows knitting, pulled a handful of spirit pills wrapped in spiritual energy from her pocket and tried to stuff them into the child's mouth. But Qing Zhouxue blocked her with one hand. "I recall the sect rules state that cultivators must sever ties with the mortal world and must not use any spells or spirit medicines to directly interfere with mortals' fates, or else they will incur heavenly retribution."

"That's right," Bai Su said quietly. "When we come to save people, we must do so without using magic, just like mortal physicians. In many cases, we can only resign ourselves to fate."

For instance, that child had only been clinging to a final breath; even if they had poured soup or water down her throat, she would have had no strength left to swallow.

Ruan Mingzhu, clutching her pills, was firmly blocked by Qing Zhouxue. She stood frozen in place, watching the body wrapped in white cloth being carried away.

"And what if it were your loved ones who fell, or your friends who collapsed?" Those amber eyes squinted in puzzlement. "Once we become immortals, are we not allowed to intercede in such matters as well?"

Qing Zhouxue tried to recall the scriptures she had read. "We probably shouldn't."

"This is the first time I've realized that even as immortals in the ninth heaven, we can't do as we please. I suppose it's not all that meaningful after all." She paused for a long while, then slipped the spirit pills back into her pocket one by one.

Qing Zhouxue did not speak much at this, but slowly furrowed her brow.

*

It was from that very sentence that Qing Zhouxue began to realize for the first time how clearly she was a deficient person.

She felt neither intense hatred nor intense love. Matters of love and hate, joy and anger, all seemed numbed as if shrouded in a layer of water. She could watch people die, observe the suffering of beings, and it seemed she was only looking—without stirring more ripples within her heart.

Ruan Mingzhu's words had stumped her.

What would she feel if her family or friends should pass away?

Her father, too, had died violently before her eyes. At that time, she was a mere eight years old. Yet she had only reddened around the eyes, with no real pain in her heart, nor any lingering sorrow that was truly hard to part with. It was only sadness and confusion—but for the eight years of his nurturing, that depth of emotion was shallow to the point of being cold and detached.

Throughout her life, it seemed she had always recorded each rule one by one, such as requiring favors to be repaid, living in harmony with fellow disciples, and trying not to impose on others. If someone close to her died or left—simply vanished from her life—she would shift her attention, like a boat drifting with the current, onto other matters, numbly refusing to mourn, as if it had never happened.

When she first met Yun Shuchen, she too had cared for her master out of a sense of repaying a kindness.

Only it was not apparent when it had turned into a habit, and then, gradually, without her realizing, into ever-deeper concern. Now she even felt a strange longing. It seemed that in their interactions, the scroll of her life slowly unfurled, and the few joys and sorrows she had were only sharpened when she saw Yun Shuchen.

Qing Zhouxue suddenly found the reason why she had liked being near her master since childhood—it was only when she saw her that she seemed to be genuinely alive, like a person.

"What's the matter with you today?"

Yun Shuchen noticed that her disciple had been staring blankly at the pond water since she came back, as though she had suffered some great blow. She could not help walking over and brushing her fingertips against her disciple's temple.

Qing Zhouxue snapped back to reality. "...Today I spent half a day handing out tokens."

"And I'm talking about you," Yun Shuchen said, glancing at the pond, then teasing with a smile, "What has this water got that's so pretty that you'd stare at it for two full hours?"

Qing Zhouxue lifted her eyelashes, looking at her, and under the scattered patches of sunlight, her master's brow and eyes were still gentle as ever.

If she knew I was such a cold-hearted person by nature... would she still treat me this well, or would she come to despise me?

As soon as such a thought came to her, her confidence began to wane, draining away like the strand of silk being pulled from a cocoon.

Yun Shuchen did not understand what had suddenly made her so downcast, so she gently tousled Qing Zhouxue's hair. "These days, you've become quite sentimental."

This kind of touch did have a soothing effect. Qing Zhouxue tilted her head slightly upward, letting the hand rest against her cheek, and then closed her eyes.

Yun Shuchen froze. The current expression on Qing Zhouxue's face vaguely reminded her of that dim and sticky night, when her disciple had clung to her leg.

The atmosphere instantly grew tense. She curled her fingers slightly, about to withdraw her hand, but Qing Zhouxue placed her own hand over the back of Yun Shuchen's, and asked, "Master, what does it feel like to be in love?"

Love? Does she mean friendship, affection like a parent's love for a child, or something else?

This was the first time her disciple had brought up such a topic.

Yun Shuchen unconsciously stroked her disciple's cheek with her fingers, her brows furrowed lightly. Her focus had already shifted—not to figuring out how to resolve her disciple's confusion, but to puzzling over the reason behind such a question.

Qing Zhouxue was not one for casual conversation. Most of the time, even when facing Yun Shuchen, she was sparing with words, and certainly would not ask such a question without reason.

Had she been moved by someone?

Who could it be? Her little disciple was not skilled at socializing; she could count close acquaintances on one hand.

Even with such a sharp mind as Yun Shuchen's, when it came to matters concerning herself, she was still, as the saying goes, like one in the middle of the mountain who cannot see its true shape. She was used to speculating on outcomes that were less favorable. And she then recalled her disciple's odd behavior from yesterday.

On careful consideration, if one had accidentally thought of someone, feelings would inevitably surge up and down, yet when trying to remember with suppressed discomfort, the more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

Her gaze shifted to the mountain covered in striking red blossoms, and for the first time she felt that the color was agitating and distracting.

It seemed that before anything had even started, it was already at an end.