Although he lacked an alarm clock, the disruption still felt rather uncomfortable. Yet years of biological clock conditioning caused him to wake up just as the sky was breaking at dawn.
When he woke up, he discovered that he was the only one left on the couch. Zeng Youran had already left Zhiyi Hall. “He must have gone over to Eldest Senior Brother’s place again. He lives his life like he’s preparing for the college entrance exam.”
After washing up, he realized he didn’t really know how to crown his hair. After fussing about for half a day until beads of fine sweat broke out on his forehead without managing to pull together a satisfying hairstyle, he had no choice but to loosely tie it back with a hair ribbon and call it a day. He then left his quarters and headed straight toward the Scripture Pavilion.
Upon entering, he saw Yin Rong already seated at her desk copying scriptures.
“What is Senior Sister writing?”
Yin Rong merely paused, not even lifting her head: “Nothing much, just some routine daily meditation practice.”
Qiao Yiting pouted, feeling he had made himself look a bit foolish. He shrugged and walked away on tiptoe. He felt quite satisfied with his progress in gathering qi over the previous few days, so he began the next phase of steps according to the instructions in the book.
Given that he had already circulated his internal true qi almost completely, the next task was learning how to mobilize that true qi to serve his needs. Fortunately, the original body possessed exceptional natural talent, so he didn’t spend an excessive amount of time on this step.
Just as he stepped out from behind the bookshelves, Yin Rong happened to stop writing and looked over toward him. “Junior Brother’s qi-gathering session didn’t seem very long today. Did you run into some other difficulty?”
“After Senior Sister’s guidance last time, I benefited immensely.”
With that, he caught an expression akin to strangeness on Yin Rong’s face and thought he might have said something wrong. “What is it, Senior Sister?”
Yin Rong raised a finger to point at his hair. “Junior Brother’s hairstyle today is rather unique. I thought you had…”
Though she didn’t finish the sentence, the words “suffered a cultivation deviation” were practically hanging in the air. He thought to himself: Do I really look like someone who slips into a cultivation deviation so easily?
“I am making a fool of myself before Senior Sister.” He awkwardly smoothed his hair and asked, “Where do you think would be best for Junior Brother to start learning, Senior Sister?”
“Junior Brother?” Qiao Yiting felt she visibly paused for a moment. “You plan to teach him?”
“What, is that not allowed?”
“It is not that it is forbidden, it is just that Master is away…”
Seeing her hesitant expression, Qiao Yiting was puzzled. He had originally assumed Fang Ping prohibited Zeng Youran from entering the path of cultivation out of fear of being upstaged, but why would Yin Rong act this way as well? “What of it? He currently cannot recognize many characters. Otherwise, even if Master returns to teach him, he won’t understand a thing. Will Master blame us then?”
“Very well.” After hesitating for a moment, Yin Rong handed the Qingjing Jing (Classic of Purity and Tranquility) she was holding over to him. “Then let us start here. We can discuss the rest later.”
Walking along the path, he was still deep in thought. Senior Brother and Senior Sisters all seemed somewhat reluctant to let Zeng Youran do anything beneficial for his cultivation.
He suddenly recalled that in the original novel, after Master took Zeng Youran in, he hadn’t taught him anything useful before leaving on his cloud journey.
Seen in this light, everything made sense: everything Fang Ping and the others did had Master’s tacit approval.
Shifting his thoughts, he looked at the Qingjing Jing in his hands and inwardly cursed, thinking this was no standard classical Chinese textbook with annotations provided.
Yet as he read through it closely, he found he understood the meanings effortlessly, which instantly brought a wave of clarity.
After placing the Qingjing Jing inside Zhiyi Hall, he retrieved his sword, ready to try out the sword manual maneuvers he had seen earlier in the Scripture Pavilion once more.
Following several days of practice, he felt as light as a swallow, and even the “Yun Po” sword in his hand felt noticeably lighter.
With a sudden leap into the air, using the resilience of the bamboo to suspend himself, he thrust his sword toward a nearby bamboo grove. Streaks of sword light flashed like flowing water, carving graceful curves through the air. The tree trunks trembled slightly while the rustling sound of falling bamboo leaves filled the air, immediately followed by the sound of a bamboo stalk toppling over.
This time, the sword no longer controlled Qiao Yiting; instead, he breathed a living soul into the sword. Sword qi danced freely around him, whipping up his ink-black hair and swirling his robes.
After a complete series of combo maneuvers, Qiao Yiting’s un-crowned hair was already a complete mess. He had no choice but to stop, otherwise he truly had no idea what shape he would end up carving his own hair into.
Seeing the bamboo he had just chopped down, a flash of inspiration struck him: he wanted to make a wooden sword for Zeng Youran.
Before long, the heavy veil of night intertwined with moonlight enveloped the entire Mount Qingxuan. Darkness settled all around once more amidst gusts of night wind, and a solitary candlelight quietly flickered inside Zhiyi Hall.
Weighing the bamboo sword in his hand, he inwardly marveled at his own ingenuity. When working as a doctor, his wound sutures were nearly flawless; even as a sword cultivator, the bamboo sword he carved looked lifelike and exquisite.
Zeng Youran stood at the doorway, looking around while waiting for someone. When Qiao Yiting slowly emerged from the bamboo grove, he was startled at first, mistaking him for some mountain wandering ghost, before freezing for a second upon realizing who it was.
The newcomer was dressed in pristine white robes, his raven hair smooth as silk, fluttering behind him in the wind generated by his steps. Beneath the scattered strands of dark silk, his fair face was vaguely visible, wearing a vibrant, spirited smile. He was bathed entirely in moonlight, the soft halo outlining his magnificent bodily proportions.
Qiao Yiting had no idea what he looked like at the moment, but seeing the obedient figure standing by the door, he broke into a small jog over, holding out the bamboo sword in his hands. “Junior Brother, I noticed you do not have your own natal weapon yet. I made this bamboo sword for you, you can use it for now.”
If not told that the bamboo stick in his hand was a sword, Zeng Youran would truly have struggled to associate it with a weapon. Yet, looking at the triumphant look on his Sixth Senior Brother’s face, he received the somewhat crude sword with both hands. “Thank you, Sixth Senior Brother. I like it very much.”
“Think nothing of it.” Qiao Yiting put down his own sword, turned to walk back inside, and picked up the Qingjing Jing from the desk like presenting a treasure. “I even got a book for you from Third Senior Sister.”
Watching him holding a book in one hand and a bamboo sword in the other looked rather comical, causing Qiao Yiting to chuckle softly. “You can ask me if you encounter anything you do not understand, or we can go through it together first.”
To his surprise, Zeng Youran’s learning and comprehension capabilities turned out to be quite strong. Within a short span of time, he managed to master the entire Qingjing Jing, though the characters he wrote possessed the fierce, unbridled flair of a future Demon Sovereign.
Looking at handwriting uglier than a crawling crab, Qiao Yiting offered a bitter, comforting smile. “It does not matter, handwriting is the kind of thing that improves naturally once you grow older.”
Inside the room, Zeng Youran very obediently moved his own bedding over.
At a single glance, it was apparent: a mattress thin enough to rival paper, topped with a meager quilt patched with several remnants, making it truly rather shabby.
Though the modest Zhiyi Hall was already somewhat rustic, in Qiao Yiting’s eyes, this extra bedding looked significantly shabbier. Yet as he surveyed the entire room, he realized it didn’t look entirely out of place either.
In truth, Zeng Youran didn’t look bad-looking by nature. For reasons unknown, however, the clothes he wore showed no indication that he was an inner-sect disciple. They matched his quilt identically, patched here and patched there, appearing equally destitute, save for a natural air of nobility about him that usually made people automatically overlook the shabbiness of his garments.
When it was time to sleep, Zeng Youran insisted on sleeping on his makeshift floor mat no matter what, ignoring all of Qiao Yiting’s persuasion and refusing to share the couch.
Why was this kid so stubborn!
Seeing the person about to lie down on that straw mat, Qiao Yiting didn’t hesitate for a second. Without another word, he scooped the boy up by his legs, carried him over, and forcefully placed him onto the couch, compelling him to lie down.
“Senior Brother, I…”
Seeing him struggle to get back up, Qiao Yiting immediately put on a stern expression, raising a hand in warning. “Lie down, you are not allowed to get up.”
He then rummaged through the wardrobe to fetch another quilt, handing it to the person lying rigidly straight on the couch. “Cover yourself with this quilt.”
Qiao Yiting felt thoroughly pleased with his own arrangements. Thinking of his performance with swordplay that day and the further progress in his relationship with the male protagonist, he drifted off into satisfying slumber to chat with the God of Dreams.
This wasn’t Zeng Youran’s first time on this couch. Silently hugging the quilt that felt far softer than his own, he pressed it against the tip of his nose to inhale its scent, while his gaze remained fixed intently on the face of the person sleeping soundly beside him, a profound shift in perspective toward his Sixth Senior Brother taking root in his heart.
Early the next morning, Qiao Yiting was awakened by the sound of studying aloud. Rubbing his drowsy eyes and feeling quite exhausted, he still got up. It turned out to be Zeng Youran reading outside the house.
Quietly peering through the window at the pacing Zeng Youran, he wanted to see when this studious junior brother would notice him.
As Zeng Youran turned around, he caught sight of the sleepy figure slumped over the windowsill and stammered with a look of utter embarrassment, “Did I wake Senior Brother?”
“Junior Brother woke up earlier than me, I am the one who should reflect on myself.” Qiao Yiting chuckled and teased him.
While speaking, a strand of long hair drifted across his vision due to his movement. Remembering he still wasn’t adept at handling his own hair, he asked, “I wonder if Junior Brother could help me with a small favor?”
The person standing outside the house saw his gaze darken by an imperceptible degree. “What favor does Senior Brother need?”
“It is nothing major.” Qiao Yiting pointed to his own hair, then pointed to Zeng Youran. “It is just that I noticed Junior Brother ties his hair up so neatly, would you mind teaching me?”
Zeng Youran froze for a moment, then a faint smile bloomed across his face as a blush quietly crept up his cheeks. This was the very first time anyone had ever praised him.
“I just tie it casually,” he seemed somewhat embarrassed, quickly stepping into the room. “If Senior Brother does not mind, let me help you.”
Watching his enthusiastic junior brother, Qiao Yiting waved his hands hurriedly. “No, no, I just wanted to learn.”
“Alright, then I will teach Senior Brother. First, you take…”
While speaking, he placed his hands over the raven-long hair of the person before him, smoothing it out in his hands. He had actually combed Fang Ping’s hair once before, but because he accidentally pulled out a single strand, he had been kicked in response.
Lost in those thoughts, he zoned out until Qiao Yiting let out a soft gasp, snapping him back to reality as he panicked and apologized, “I am sorry, Senior Brother, did I hurt you?”
Qiao Yiting massaged his forehead, turned his head to look at the flustered person, and couldn’t help laughing through his exasperation. “Junior Brother, I feel it is a bit too tight.”
Yet, it looked good.
Even when practicing swordplay that day, seeing his own reflection mapped onto the blade, he couldn’t help stealing a few extra glances. This reminded him of what Zeng Youran had said that morning: if he liked it, he would help him tie his hair every day from now on, though he had rejected the offer, feeling confident he had already graduated from that skill!
Yet in the days that followed, Qiao Yiting’s hair was frequently crooked, because it was tied by his own hands. Whenever he ran into his senior brothers, they always laughed at him for having a unique aesthetic, while whenever he met his senior sisters, they invariably told him his skills lacked mastery.
In truth, he had no idea why either. He had originally assumed practice would make perfect and he would tie his hair better and better. Practice did indeed make perfect, but his mastery manifested in an increasingly proficient knack for tying his hair crookedly.
On this particular day, after emerging from the Scripture Pavilion, Qiao Yiting passed by the martial practice ground and happened to run into Shi Kai and Yin Rong sparring.
Shi Kai’s sword was a cyan-bladed weapon, and his attacking style remained as unpredictable as his personality. Though the sword forms were identical, compared to Yin Rong’s swordsmanship, his movements were far more multifaceted.
Yin Rong hadn’t drawn her natal sword, casually picking up a flexible soft sword from the practice ground instead. Facing Shi Kai’s aggressive sword moves, she responded strictly by the book, countering every move as it came, until Shi Kai was eventually defeated and forced back.
Yin Rong raised her hand in salute. “You yield, Second Senior Brother.”
“Junior Sister’s swordsmanship has improved; you must have been studying diligently of late.” Shi Kai unfolded the folding fan at his waist, fanning himself leisurely. “Would Sixth Junior Brother care to try?”
Noticing the two sparring had stirred his own eagerness, and hearing Shi Kai call him out, he drew his sword and stepped onto the arena. “Please offer some guidance, Third Senior Sister.”
Although he had never sparred with Yin Rong before, the original body must have frequently practiced with this senior sister, because he felt extremely familiar with Yin Rong’s fighting style.
Sensing that Qiao Yiting had thoroughly grasped the rhythm of her sword techniques, Yin Rong altered her strategy, while he showed no weakness, deploying his newly learned combo maneuvers against her first. Just as he thought victory was certain, his crooked hair decided to come cause trouble, and he ended up defeated in the end.
“Thank you for your guidance, Senior Sister.” Though indifferent to victory or defeat, losing because of his own hair was truly unexpected.
Shi Kai stood nearby, shaking his fan with a chuckle. “Junior Brother, you really ought to tie your hair properly, otherwise facing an external enemy will make it far too easy for them to shave your head into a monk.”
In the end, he still had to seek help from Zeng Youran. And Zeng Youran never once refused him, indeed, from then on, Zeng Youran truly took over the task of tying his hair every single day.