Chapter 58

Strangely, Yun Shuchen had always been open and thorough with her on every point of doubt, but to that question, she received no answer from her master.

She only said, "Don't overthink it. Cultivate in peace."

Qing Zhouxue tucked that turmoil back into her heart and let it settle for a few days. Her melancholy was fairly shallow, it seemed—after a period of worry, she reasoned thus: at least she could still wholeheartedly love her master.

That was already good enough.

The rest could not be forced.

Her heart settled back into calm, but she never expected that her light question would stir a wave in her master's heart—a mix of emotions, leaving her fretting all day over the possibility of her little disciple being led astray.

The refugees taken in within the sect could not survive on immortal dew and spirit pills; they needed rice, oil, and salt. Since no one farmed within the Taichu Sect, such goods had to be purchased from the mortal world below.

Qing Zhouxue, being adept at sword flight, found it convenient. She took on this task daily with her fellow sisters, traveling back and forth between markets surrounding the sect.

One day, by chance, she ran into her master on the street. Yun Shuchen seemed to be speaking with Miao Shun, her expression indifferent. When Qing Zhouxue looked over, Yun Shuchen, as if sensing something, turned her head and met the eyes of her disciple, who was carrying a few bags of rice.

Yun Shuchen turned back to say a few more words to Miao Shun, and the woman bowed, taking her leave and entering a vermilion building.

In that interval, Qing Zhouxue was stowing two bags of rice into her storage ring.

"Master, shall we return together?"

Yun Shuchen said, "It's rare to come down the mountain for a look. You go back first. I'll walk a bit more."

Qing Zhouxue packed her things and took a few steps to fall in beside her. "There's no rush. Returning early or late is fine. I'll accompany you, Master."

Yun Shuchen said nothing. To be honest, she didn't really want to deal with her right now—a disciple with such poor taste in people hardly seemed endearing at the moment.

Because Yun Shuchen had often held her hand in recent days, Qing Zhouxue saw nothing unusual in it and naturally clasped Yun Shuchen's hand.

Feeling the warm, tender softness in her palm, Yun Shuchen couldn't help but brighten inside, though her face remained indifferent.

Qing Zhouxue always felt that her master's mood had not been good these past few days. Over the years, she had come to realize that not everyone was as direct as she was—especially someone like her master, who would keep matters bottled up in her heart and not easily bring them to the surface.

In short, her emotions needed to be guessed.

However, as her disciple who spent day and night with her, Qing Zhouxue had gained insight into her ways. When Master smiled, she wasn't necessarily happy; a polite smile was mere courtesy; a smile that didn't reach the eyes was derision. Only when her eyes also curved slightly could it be considered genuine joy.

If Master had no expression, it usually meant she was tired, displeased, or bored. If the tips of her ears were slightly red, then it was neither—she was shy.

Such shy moments were rare, occurring only twice—both when watching her bathe or bathing with her.

This book named Yun Shuchen, Qing Zhouxue had read with great care.

Qing Zhouxue was not particularly perceptive about people's words and feelings—far less astute than Senior Sister Lin in that regard, and even somewhat slow to notice changes in the outside world.

It was only because she had known Yun Shuchen for so long and kept her gaze fixed on her day after day that she could find the extraordinary within the ordinary.

When Master was displeased, it was best to engage her in conversation. Qing Zhouxue thought for a moment and asked, "Where shall we go?"

Yun Shuchen had no idea where to go either. She had come to see Miao Shun on business, then was simply taking a random stroll with no destination. Master and disciple walked until they reached the boundary of the sect.

War had broken out in the mortal realm, likely another dynastic change. A few days prior, the Sect Leader had ordered the barrier sealed, forbidding communication between those inside and outside.

But Qing Zhouxue heard strange sounds coming from beyond. She looked closely and saw a horrifying sight. Crowds of commoners, sallow and thin, dragging their children and carrying their belongings—those who still had any strength were hurling themselves against the barrier. A flash of spiritual light, and they were flung back to the ground like grains.

They got up, like moths drawn to flame, stubbornly crashing against the barrier again and again, each impact like a knock on a door.

A knock on a door that would never open.

Qing Zhouxue watched them.

Compared to the refugees already taken in within the sect, these people were even more terrifyingly emaciated, like ghosts holding only their last breath, their eyes devoid of light, only a numb despair.

The innermost barrier was clear of mist and clouds, everything bright and visible. Yet under the open sunlight, a single line separated them—on one side, refugees hurling their heads against the barrier; on the other, the carefree, worry-free residents of the sect.

Looking further out, limbs and broken bodies littered the ground amidst the beacon smoke, a sight too ghastly to behold. One side was a living hell, the other a paradise, separated by a mere few steps—making it all the more absurd.

Just then, a warm hand covered her eyes, blocking the chaotic scene. Qing Zhouxue could no longer see what lay before her.

"Don't look."

Those clear, beautiful eyes need only reflect the pure snow and wind of Heyi Peak; there was no need to see such hellish sights. This was...

A selfish thought that had grown in her unbidden.

Yun Shuchen covered her eyes and whispered softly in her ear, "Dynasties have always risen and fallen, and war always torments the common people. The Taichu Sect is the only immortal sect willing to take in refugees despite the heavenly punishment, but our resources are limited. Saving six or seven thousand people is already our limit. If we keep taking in more endlessly, more mouths need feeding—where would we find grain for the people here? It would become another hell."

She raised her hand, condensing a cloud of mist to reinforce the barrier. "Thus, 'constantly without desire, one observes the mystery; constantly with desire, one observes the manifestations.' Since we have grasped this 'manifestation,' doing what we can is the best we can do."

Qing Zhouxue let out a soft sigh. "Master, there's no need to worry. I didn't have any such insights. It was precisely because I had no insight that I was puzzled for the past few days and came to ask you."

"The past few days?"

"About loving others."

Yun Shuchen was momentarily stunned. So she had been talking about love for the masses, and I had let my thoughts run wild, leading me astray.

She sighed inwardly, rubbing her brow. She felt both relieved and weary, a rather contradictory mix.

"Mm... we'll talk about it once we're back."

Qing Zhouxue's eyelashes trembled, then lowered. "Master, perhaps I am different from others."

Yun Shuchen's lips curved slightly. "What if you are? No two people are the same. Qing'er is wonderful just as she is."

Qing Zhouxue hadn't finished her words. She looked at Yun Shuchen and felt a flicker of doubt. But that phrase—'Qing'er is wonderful just as she is'—like an anchor, sank into her heart and stood firm.

She didn't even know whether Yun Shuchen had truly guessed her unspoken words.

But it seemed that if her master thought it was good, then it was good.

At that moment, she felt the whole of her being lift.

Summer passed, and autumn arrived, bringing with it the gradual start of assessments for the previous year's coursework.

The few figures gathered on the training ground had all returned to their respective peaks, gritting their teeth and burying themselves in books. Not that passing these assessments brought much glory—but failing would indeed be a disgrace to one's sect.

The Sect Leader, well aware that the younger disciples slacked off in areas outside their specialty, had each written exam ranked and posted at the mountain gate in ink on red paper. Anyone entering through the gate would see it at a glance.

Many grumbled inwardly, "It's not the imperial examinations for top scholar!"

But being top scholar did carry prestige. The name at the very top was written in gold powder, dazzling and radiant.

Last time, the time before that, and the time before that—such brilliant splendor belonged to the name "Qing Zhouxue."

Every time they entered the gate, they were blinded by Senior Sister Qing's name, pausing to gaze up in reverence. Some glanced at it briefly and walked in casually. Others, whose names had to be searched from the bottom up, refused to look at such an inauspicious sight and hurried past with heads bowed.

It was a curious spectacle—the same mountain gate, different people, each with their own air.

When Yun Shuchen passed the gate, she would also look up. The gilded characters were indeed imposing, bringing great honor to the sect.

Each time, she would think of her disciple's focused, diligent expression under the lamp; such results were hardly surprising.

On the eve of recent written exams, late into the night, Qing Zhouxue lost track of time again, buried in a pile of books.

Yun Shuchen approached and saw that she had fallen asleep without even realizing it, slumped over the desk, dreaming of a certain duke. Qing Zhouxue's cheek was pressed against a page, her hand smeared with a bit of ink, half a handful of moonlight spilling over her.

Yun Shuchen glanced at the writing in the book—as expected, she was still studying how to write rhapsodies and prose. Perhaps she simply had no talent for it. She had kept notes for years, yet still wrote like a running account.

What if I brought Yue Changge to teach her?

The thought rose and immediately dissipated. No, she didn't want her disciple to end up writing passages full of phrases like "snow-drifted peaks, fragrant sweat trickling" in the future.

Yun Shuchen poked a finger into her disciple's right cheek, though she stood on her left. Qing Zhouxue startled awake and opened her eyes, but saw no one. She stiffly sat up straight, then slowly relaxed as she caught a familiar fragrance.

"You can study tomorrow just the same."

Qing Zhouxue nodded and sat in sleepy silence for a moment. Yun Shuchen noticed a lock of hair on top of her head sticking up like a blade of grass, refusing to lie flat. She reached out to smooth it down, but the trembling strand wobbled and tipped to the other side.

So adorable.

Just as she thought that, she met her disciple's puzzled gaze. She dropped her hand and gave a light cough. "Go sleep."

When Qing Zhouxue stood and walked away, that little tuft eventually fell flat, lying neatly against the back of her head. Yun Shuchen couldn't help feeling a pang of regret.

Once in bed, her disciple, still yawning, turned over to face her and sighed softly. "The exam is in three days."

Yun Shuchen, eyes closed, smiled faintly. "Don't think about it. Even if you do, can you become the Star of Literature overnight?"

Qing Zhouxue's voice drifted, murmuring in a daze, "It's not that I'm overthinking. Whatever should be done, one ought to do their best..."