A few more days flashed by. By the time Helan Tan finished handling the matters of the Medicine Sect and returned to the inn, the moon was already high in the sky.
He lay with his hands pillowed behind his head, staring wide-eyed as he thought. He began to carefully replay every scene related to Song Yin in his mind, one by one.
He remembered that Song Yin had promised him she would treat him to a bowl of freshly boiled soy milk.
Helan Tan glanced out the window; it wasn’t yet dawn.
Would waking up early to visit a tiny tofu shop damage the reputation of the Medicine Sect’s young master? It didn’t quite suit his status.
But then again, she surely couldn’t be someone who went back on her word, could she? He was merely going to give her an opportunity to fulfill her promise.
The more Helan Tan thought about it, the more convinced he became: he had to go.
The little Charm Demon had plenty of tricks up her sleeve; he would go see her and deal with whatever she threw at him.
He finally endured until daybreak.
Helan Tan changed into clean, tidy robes and adjusted his silver hair crown several times before finally heading to that small market alley.
As it turned out, the shop was already deserted.
The tables and chairs were empty, and a sign hung nearby with brush calligraphy that read: Prosperous Shop for Rent.
“Where are the people who were here?” Helan Tan grabbed a random passerby.
The passerby looked back. “Oh, you mean that Tofu Beauty? They moved out a few days ago.”
“Moved where?”
“Who knows?”
In Helan Tan’s blue eyes, there was the morning mist, and the glass—thin to the point of being translucent—seemed to faintly shatter.
He lowered his head.
That little Charm Demon… played me again.
With the matter of the Azure Dragon Vine concluded, Sikong Lan led her disciples back to the Qunxian Sect on Tianyun Mountain.
The disciples returned to their rooms to organize the souvenirs from their trip.
Tianyun Mountain covered a vast area, with hot springs and blue lotuses everywhere. The sect’s courtyard was square, and each disciple chose their favorite place to live.
The eldest, Song Miao (the cat), lived in a sun-drenched room with windows opened to their fullest. Inside were all sorts of bamboo and rattan cat towers and scratching posts, with countless plush balls of various lengths dangling from the rafters. He often lay on the roof basking in the sun, though he didn’t stay in his own room much, frequently curling up in random spots elsewhere.
The rooms of the second and third disciples were each more exquisite and luxurious than the last, especially the second’s.
Song Yin’s door was carved from thousand-year-old immortal pearwood, depicting a “Hundred Cats” scene where every whisker was lifelike. Inside, celestial-blue ice-silk cloud silk hung down, and the bed was made of ten-thousand-year-old warm jade. Half of one wall was inlaid with a mother-of-pearl mirror; there was a crystal full-length mirror by the wardrobe and a bronze mirror with gold-traced peony patterns on the desk. Thousands of rare and precious garments hung on the racks, while a small beast-headed incense burner emitted curls of fragrance.
The room of the third disciple, Jiang Zuilan, was a realm of blue. The walls were coated with tiny blue gemstone particles and enchanted to stay warm in winter and cool in summer. Several human skeletal models and fish skeletal models were placed in the small room. A massive, deep azure pool had been dug in the courtyard to facilitate switching back to her original mermaid form at any time.
The room of the fourth disciple, Zhan Zhaozhao, was very simple—it had been thrown together using the leftover decorative materials from the other rooms.
They had been back for a few days, and the disciples’ cultural lessons had been underway for just as long.
Sikong Lan was not a liberal arts student, nor was she an art student.
Zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and songs—everything meant to cultivate the soul—was taught by Ling Yi.
The Great Sect Competition would test Intelligence, Martial Power, Wealth, and Reputation.
Sikong Lan rested her chin in her hand. How exactly would one test “Intelligence”?
She pondered. Would it be “chickens and rabbits in the same cage” math problems? Swimming pool managers filling and draining water? The area of a shaded parallelogram?
Or perhaps she should just hand out a Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale?
Sikong Lan came and went like a ghost, privately sneaking off to steal the Immortal Alliance’s past exam questions. She planned to use a “sea of problems” tactic on her disciples. If all else failed, she’d have them memorize every intelligence question from “Three Years of Exams and Five Years of Simulations.”
Then she discovered that the “Intelligence” competition consisted of painting and writing to see who could reach the level of “triggering the resonance of heaven and earth.”
How was she supposed to cheat at that?
With no other choice, she had to teach them some genuine knowledge and skills.
Normal classes were held daily on Qunxian Mountain. Each class was worth 0.5 credits, and there were rewards for a perfect GPA.
Zhan Zhaozhao was absolutely terrified of classes.
He truly might not have any talent for this.
After Ling Yi finished reciting a poem, he asked Zhan Zhaozhao what thoughts and feelings the author was expressing. Zhan Zhaozhao scratched his head and couldn’t come up with an answer.
Ling Yi then asked the Big Senior Brother: “What do you think of this poem?”
Big Senior Brother: “Meow! (Magnificent!)”
Even the Big Senior Brother understood literary appreciation better than Zhan Zhaozhao.
The Second Senior Sister, Song Yin, had been able to solve advanced mathematics problems the moment she arrived at the sect. She knew how to use Lagrange to solve problems and was skilled in Calculus. She had inherited Sikong Lan’s mantle, using math to draw and solve arrays—a true array-cultivation genius.
As for Zhan Zhaozhao himself, he calculated 63 minus 13 equals 72. He was critiqued by Master as “the idiot among idiots.”
What was low-carbon steel, medium-carbon steel, and high-carbon steel? Why was it that when Master threw a pile of junk at them, his senior brothers and sisters could make a blade out of it? “Wait, Second Senior Sister, don’t just play with your knife like that! Don’t point the tip at me!”
What was a Non-Newtonian fluid? Why were his senior siblings already listing equations to solve the problems, while he couldn’t even read the term fluently?
Everyone loved physical techniques.
Zhan Zhaozhao, however, was a permanent member of the “punching bag” reserve.
The Master’s Husband, who scheduled the medicine class right after physical techniques, was a genius. It was the perfect time to reset all the bones Zhan Zhaozhao had broken during the physical techniques class.
“Senior Sister,” Zhan Zhaozhao said, lying on the ground in pain as he asked Jiang Zuilan, “I don’t think this bone was broken just now.”
Jiang Zuilan looked up and said sincerely, “But Master just taught me today how to set a broken sternum. I had no choice but to learn and apply it immediately, so I broke yours to practice.”
As all the classes ended, the senior siblings gained knowledge and rewards.
Zhan Zhaozhao gained external injuries, internal injuries, and injuries to his self-esteem.
Heavens, Zhan Zhaozhao couldn’t learn anything.
However, Zhan Zhaozhao was diligent and eager to learn. He had a good mindset and didn’t get discouraged. When he failed, he would try again and again, continuing to take the problems he’d gotten wrong a hundred times to consult Master.
Master (Sikong Lan) would usually scold him with a cold face, calling him a “stupid thing.”
As for Master’s Husband (Ling Yi), he would show a flicker of surprise—though he masked it well, quickly replacing it with sympathy and pity.
But that polite pity still stung Zhan Zhaozhao, making him realize that he truly was a bit of a dimwit.
Zhan Zhaozhao held his exam paper and squatted in the corner, dejectedly rubbing a stalk of foxtail grass.
While Zhan Zhaozhao was being scolded senseless by Master, Song Yin was looking for a place to release her little fish.
She pulled the Pink Moon Grass from her bag.
The pink flowers had already withered, drooping dejectedly. The cluster had decayed and dried into a shriveled mess. Her tone dropped: “Ah, the flowers are all withered.”
The water in the jar was still gradient-colored, shifting from orange-yellow to light blue, with tiny sparks of starlight flickering in the middle.
The little fish was still alive, though barely.
Song Yin casually tossed the flowers away. She looked for a cold stream to release the fish.
Tianyun Mountain had many hot springs.
While there were plenty of round pools shrouded in mist, the icy stream water usually flowed along the mountain’s terrain.
Song Yin found a clear little stream beside a giant rock. Her embroidered shoes stepped onto the slippery pebbles as she shook the jar.
The colored pond water flowed from the transparent jar, stretching a rainbow-like line in the air. It splashed into the water’s surface with a tinkling sound, the rainbow diluted by the stream until a few specks of color sank to the bottom like star fragments.
Song Yin didn’t remember at all that she had coaxed Helan Tan by promising to buy him soy milk.
She had long forgotten the words she’d casually agreed to in bed, tossing them far away. As for the person she’d shared that bed with, she didn’t give him a second thought.
Jiang Zuilan was beside her skipping stones. Since it was Jiang Zuilan who had tricked Helan Tan into going west to get the flowers, she asked a follow-up: “Are you even a little bit moved?”
Song Yin’s eyes widened. “What? A powerful Charm Demon would never be moved by such petty favors. Who knows if he was just faking it?”
Jiang Zuilan decided that her Second Senior Sister always had her reasons.
The fish splashed into the water and drifted away with the current, vanishing from sight.
The name of the suitor was never mentioned again.