Fu Hua said she was going out for a trip, possibly two or three days.
Arthur was tying ropes to the newly built bean trellis.
Hearing this, he didn’t look up, just gave an “mm” in response, his hands continuing their work.
“Be careful on the road.”
After tying a knot in the rope, he casually smoothed the tender green tendrils of the beans before adding this, his tone as ordinary as if he were saying “nice weather today.”
Fu Hua stood under the eaves, watching his busy back in the Vegetable Garden.
The morning light cast a fuzzy golden halo around his casually tied-up blond hair.
Bent over, with the sleeves of his coarse cloth shirt rolled up to his elbows, he revealed smoothly defined forearms still dotted with fresh mud stains.
“Alright,” she replied, her voice as flat as ever.
Only her gaze lingered on his back for a moment longer before she turned, her blue robe brushing past the threshold as her figure quickly disappeared around the winding mountain path.
Arthur finished tying the last trellis, straightened up, looked in the direction she had vanished, and dusted off his hands.
There was a ripple in his heart.
After all, this was the first time in six years she had said she would be gone for “two or three days.” Previously, when she went down the mountain to buy supplies or deal with some “minor troubles” in nearby villages, she would return within a day at most.
But it was just a ripple.
He had long grown accustomed to her presence and long understood that she was the “Red Kite Immortal,” with her own affairs, her own responsibilities, her own…
past and future that he knew nothing about.
Asking too much was pointless, only adding unnecessary worries.
This was his consistent principle.
But over the next two days, Tai Xu Mountain did indeed feel excessively quiet.
The birdsong was still the same birdsong, the bamboo grove still rustled as before, and the sun rose in the east and set in the west, without the slightest deviation.
Yet Arthur felt something was off.
When cooking, he would unconsciously make an extra half-bowl, only remembering after serving it that the other side of the table was empty.
Lying under the old pine tree in the afternoon, without that occasional quiet gaze from the window of the Quiet Chamber, even the wind seemed lazier.
On the evening of the third day, she hadn’t returned.
Arthur stood in front of the house, looking at the empty mountain path in the twilight, his brow furrowing slightly.
“She said two or three days…” he muttered, then turned and went back inside.
On the fourth day, there was still no sign of her.
He began to feel restless.
During his training, his mind kept wandering; when watering the Vegetable Garden, he nearly flooded the seedlings; he went down to the small town and wandered around, pricking up his ears but hearing no rumors about an immortal subduing Demons.
“Could something have happened?” The thought surfaced, but he forcefully pushed it down.
That was the Red Kite Immortal, the guardian of the Divine Land, an ancient…
ahem, senior who had lived for who knows how many years.
What could delay her was either a tricky situation or something holding her up on the road.
He told himself this, but still, early on the fifth day, he stood under the old pine tree at the mountain pass, gazing down the path.
From when the morning dew hadn’t yet dried until the sun was high in the sky.
Just as he began to doubt if he was being foolish and prepared to return to tinker with his never-ending Vegetable Garden, the clouds and mist at the end of the mountain path stirred slightly.
A figure in blue slowly emerged.
Arthur’s heart relaxed.
He instinctively took two steps forward, then paused, returning to his usual lazy demeanor as he leaned against the pine tree trunk, waiting.
Fu Hua’s figure grew clearer.
Then, Arthur’s gaze fell behind her and slightly narrowed.
A small figure in tattered gray cloth clothes was clinging tightly to Fu Hua’s sleeve, following step by step.
It was a little girl.
She looked about six or seven years old, with dry, yellowish hair tied into two messy little buns.
Her cheeks were thin, making her eyes appear especially large.
At the moment, she was timidly looking over, showing exhaustion from a long journey and deep unease.
Fu Hua approached, her face paler than usual, with a trace of barely noticeable weariness in her eyes, but aside from that, no obvious injuries.
“Shifu.”
Arthur straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning Fu Hua’s entire body to confirm she was unharmed before settling on the little girl behind her.
“And this is?”
“Lin Chaoyu.” Fu Hua’s voice was somewhat hoarse.
She turned slightly, gently guiding the little girl forward.
“I met her on the road.
Her…
family is gone.”
The little girl named Lin Chaoyu shrank back, gripping Fu Hua’s sleeve even tighter.
Her large eyes quickly welled up with tears, but she bit her lip and didn’t cry, only secretly sizing up Arthur.
Looking at the child, a flicker of understanding passed through Arthur’s heart, along with a faint, complex feeling he didn’t immediately recognize. Read this novel at novelping dot com for the best experience.
So she went to pick up a child.
No wonder it took so long.
He crouched down, trying to make his smile look friendly, and reached out to the little girl.
“Chaoyu, right?
I’m Arthur, I’m…
well, your Shifu’s disciple.
You can call me Shixiong from now on.”
Lin Chaoyu didn’t move, only looking up at Fu Hua.
Seeing Fu Hua give a slight nod, she timidly extended her small hand, quickly touched Arthur’s fingers, then pulled back.
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
“…Shixiong.”
“Yeah.” Arthur responded, stood up, and looked at Fu Hua.
“Let’s go inside first.
You two…
must be hungry?
I’ll get some food.”
Fu Hua nodded without saying more, leading Lin Chaoyu toward the Bamboo House.
The little girl walked slowly, her legs seeming somewhat unsteady, and Fu Hua’s pace was extremely gentle.
Arthur watched the two figures, one big and one small, his gaze pausing for a moment on Fu Hua’s slightly stiff left shoulder—the fabric there seemed a shade darker than the surrounding area.
His eyes darkened slightly, but he said nothing, turning and quickly heading to the kitchen.
Rice porridge was ready, kept warm on the stove.
He quickly stir-fried a plate of eggs, sliced some pickled vegetables, and after a thought, took two rice cakes he had made a few days ago as snacks from a jar, bringing them all out.
Inside, Fu Hua was wiping Lin Chaoyu’s face with a damp cloth.
After being cleaned up, though thin, the little girl had delicate features, only her complexion was sallow, clearly from long-term malnutrition.
Seeing the steaming food, Lin Chaoyu’s stomach let out an embarrassing rumble, and she immediately lowered her head in shame.
“Eat.” Fu Hua led her to sit at the table, pushed the porridge bowl in front of her, then glanced at Arthur.
Arthur understood, placing the rice cakes by the little girl’s hand.
“Have some to fill up first, eat slowly, don’t choke.”