With the lamp lit, the room brightened instantly. This type of lamp was specially provided by Fu Yun’s sect—lighting just one wick made the room as bright as daylight. Danqing put away the flint. “I should be the one asking you that. You look like a decent person, yet you’re sneaking around doing shady things.” Only then did she properly look at the person who had stolen her Taohua Niang.
“Decent person”—that phrase was an understatement. The man before her had a face as delicate as a lotus blossom, with enchanting peach blossom eyes that could captivate the mind. The teardrop mole at the corner of his right eye accentuated their allure to perfection. With just one glance at his eyes and the mole, the first word that surfaced in Danqing’s mind was “pitifully charming.” Fortunately, she had spoken before looking at him; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to remain as calm and composed as she had been earlier. As she observed his attire, she couldn’t name the fabric, but she could tell it was of exceptional quality—light, breathable, and layered in shades of light red, peach pink, and crimson, varying with the number of garments. He wore at least three layers, yet she could still see the golden armlet on his left arm through the outer sleeve, clearly adorned with sapphire-blue gemstones. His clothes… were relatively tidy, except for the absence of an inner robe, leaving his chest exposed and unmistakably revealing his gender to Danqing.
His clothing and accessories at least indicated that he came from a well-off family, not the kind of desperate villain who would kill for a few coins. The anxiety that had risen to her throat quietly subsided. It seemed the outcome of her impulsive decision to lie in wait wasn’t the worst possible scenario.
“Seen enough?” The man with peach blossom eyes curled his lips into a half-smile, straightened his robes, and sat down, watching Danqing with keen interest. “You’re neither the first nor the last to see my eyes and not fall under my command.”
“And then?” Outwardly, Danqing appeared calm, unnervingly so for a child. In reality, she hadn’t fully regained her composure and instinctively chose an automatic response—a “divine retort,” as the saying goes, “those who use it know it best.”
She hadn’t been bewitched by those peach blossom eyes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t dazzled by his appearance. Fu Yun’s looks were far more refined than this man’s. However, their temperaments were worlds apart. Fu Yun fell just short of an immortal’s ethereal grace, but the term “ascetic” suited him perfectly. After gazing at an ascetic Taoist priest for so long, suddenly encountering a hormone-radiating, enchanting beauty—especially those unforgettable peach blossom eyes—naturally left Danqing dazzled. Of course, she remained steadfast in her admiration for Taoist priests; otherwise, she wouldn’t have created a Taoist priest character to daydream about daily back in the day.
“And then? Heh, little girl, you’re quite bold, daring to wait here. Weren’t you afraid I wouldn’t come? And lighting the lamp—weren’t you afraid I’d silence you for good?”
Only after hearing this did Danqing snap back to attention, focusing on the conversation and avoiding his eyes—they were far too mentally taxing. “I waited here because I wanted to. As for lighting the lamp, it’s because you were stealing wine, not robbing my belongings.”
After returning, Qianzhi and she had inspected Moyi Yuan inside and out. The pocket money in the brocade pouch on Danqing’s dressing table was still there, and there were no signs of theft in the neighboring courtyards. Qianzhi speculated that mice had knocked over the wine, lectured Danqing, and told her to clean and tidy up the room before leaving. But Danqing wasn’t convinced. Fuming with indignation, she decided to wait all night, regardless of whether the thief returned, to determine whether it was mice or a thief!
“So it seems, then I must silence you for good.”
“Hmm, that makes sense.”
Danqing, who had let her guard down, never expected the playful words of the peach blossom-eyed man to become reality. The hand that had been resting on his chin now clutched her neck without hesitation, leaving her no chance to react. Those delicate, soft hands, once like polished jade, had now become the weapon that would take Danqing’s life! Her face flushed crimson as she struggled to breathe. Accustomed to slow, steady breaths, Danqing felt a surge of air trapped in her chest—unable to exhale or swallow—gathering into a tight knot that gradually grew hotter, as if about to ignite into a blazing fire that would consume her heart.
It was unbearable. Not a single thought of escape crossed her mind. The deeper her agony, the deeper her nails dug into the peach blossom-eyed man’s wrist, leaving faint traces of red beneath his fair skin and her nails. Truly, she had been too naive. As Danqing teetered on the edge of suffocation, the beautiful face before her eyes slowly faded into a blinding white light.
Clang—the toll of a temple bell? Twang—the tuning of a konghou? Neigh—the whinny of a horse? Shing—the unsheathing of a sword?
She vaguely recalled that when one is near death, they hear sounds not of this world. Was she about to die? To die by her own foolish decision, her naive relaxation? In her previous life, she had died without understanding why; in this life, she would die from sheer stupidity. Unacceptable! With great effort, Danqing forced her eyes open wider, trying to see the peach blossom-eyed man’s face clearly. “Fu… Yun…” she gasped out the two words, using what little air remained in her lungs.
“Such deep resentment… Huh!” The peach blossom-eyed man withdrew his hand and stepped back. Danqing collapsed limply to the ground, unconscious. Between Danqing and the peach blossom-eyed man, a sleeve fluttered gently to the ground. The peach blossom-eyed man revealed a smooth arm, his outer robe slashed open with a long, narrow tear across his chest, a vivid red mark appearing on his jade-like skin. “Taohua Niang, so you were here.” Paying no mind to what had injured him, the hand that had nearly ended Danqing’s life now grasped the neck of the Taohua Niang jar she had hidden away. Like a child who had just received candy, he smiled with innocent delight. Outside the window, the peach blossoms seemed to sense his emotions, bursting into full bloom and casting a soft pink glow under the deep blue, starry night sky.
All night, the peach blossoms bloomed in splendor, yet no one was there to admire them.
In the mountains, a light drizzle fell during the day. Qianzhi, holding a pear blossom white umbrella as she did every morning, came to supervise Danqing’s calligraphy practice and memorization of the Xingtu. Before even entering Moyi Yuan, she saw from afar a courtyard strewn with fallen petals.
The drizzle, the paper umbrella, the girl in yellow; the stone path through the woods, the scattered blossoms in the wind, her gentle and graceful demeanor—in a poet’s eyes, it would surely be a hazy, picturesque scene.
“Down the mountain, the peach branches have only just begun to bud, yet here, the ground is already covered in fallen petals.” Slightly marveling at the difference in blooming times between the mountain and the valley, Qianzhi raised her hand and knocked on Danqing’s door. With little force, the door swung open, likely because the room… The room’s furnishings were exactly as they had been the day before.
Qianzhi breathed a sigh of relief. The Taohua Niang was gone, and Danqing had been suspicious that a thief had visited. Now, with the door open and the room unchanged, it must have been Danqing who forgot to lock it—she would have to lecture her about it later. Walking around the painted screen, she found the bed empty. “She actually woke up early today, how rare,” Qianzhi remarked, but as she turned, she caught sight of a slender wrist beneath the painted screen.
A strong medicinal scent of three bowls of water boiled down to half a bowl—certainly dark, bitter, and thick—made Danqing frown before she finally woke and opened her eyes. The old quilt was warm, carrying the fragrance of pine resin that clung to it. Years of fumigating the bedding with pine resin had left a scent that even washing could not easily erase. Goose-pear incense for the bed curtains—many in the temple used goose-pear incense, and it was a common thing, yet only Fu Yun’s residence brought her this familiar scent.
“You’re awake.” The tone was distant, and the crisp sound of a porcelain bowl and spoon clinking together released the aroma of that herbal medicine she had no desire to drink. Danqing could sense that Fu Yun was very angry right now. She stared solemnly at the canopy, her mind racing as she thought about how to appease him. A fundamental truth: Taoists who come out of the Great Foolish Sheep Palace all have an aloof, solitary, and cold exterior, but inside, they harbor a secretly passionate and gossip-loving heart. Additionally—those from Chunyang are often tsundere. Fu Yun was a Taoist, which meant he had such a secretly passionate heart and moments of tsundere behavior. This understanding was a bit strange but still made sense, Danqing convinced herself.
And that moment was now.
“Speak. What happened yesterday? According to Qianzhi, you suspected a thief had visited Moyi Yuan.”
Danqing shrank her head. She dared not tell Fu Yun that, precisely because of her suspicion, she had hidden the Taohua Niang at night and then waited alone in a corner to see whether it was a rat or a cat burglar.
“Hmph. You’ve grown up, and your courage has taken flight. You actually dared to learn how to lie in wait and ambush—are you a bounty-hunting assassin or an owl catching mice? That person should have just strangled you.” Fu Yun’s voice grew colder, just one step away from an outburst.
“Hey, hey, you’ve raised me for six years after all. How could you bear to wish me dead… Wait, how did you know…” Danqing bristled, protesting with a yelp before belatedly realizing that Fu Yun had seen through her inner thoughts. Her momentum instantly deflated, and she lowered her head to ask cautiously.
“Hmph. You’ll stay here these next few days. Once I’ve figured things out, you can come out.” Fu Yun flicked his sleeve and strode away, the door slamming shut with a “bang.”
“Don’t do this!” Danqing jumped off the bed and lunged at the door, only to find it wouldn’t open. “Fu Yun, open the door!” She pounded on the door with all her might, but no one responded. It was over. Staying here meant copying the Nanhua Jing to reflect on her mistakes—she’d rather memorize the Xingtu.
In the peach grove of Moyi Yuan, the branches were budding once again, dotted with specks of color. Beneath a peach tree, a person in Qinghongse Yishan looked up, gently brushing the leaves. Along the stone path in the grove, another person approached slowly, the bell pendant of a delicate ornament tinkling with each step.
“Zhuohua, you’ve lived here for six years now.” Fu Yun stood before the peach-eyed figure and spoke calmly. He knew this person—or more accurately, this yao. “Time passes like a white horse galloping past a crack; in the blink of an eye, the abandoned infant of those years has become the most beloved child of Zhiwei Guan.” Zhuohua chuckled lightly, plucking a blooming peach blossom with slender jade-like fingers.
“I allowed you to stay in Moyi Yuan back then because I saw your sincere devotion to the Dao. It seems I misjudged you.” Not long after taking in Danqing six years ago, a peach blossom yao had moved near Moyi Yuan—that person was Zhuohua. He and Zhuohua had fought for three days and three nights, evenly matched. Seeing Zhuohua’s steadfastness in cultivating the Dao and how he made little Danqing happy—at least the girl cried much less—Fu Yun decided he was useful and allowed him to stay there to watch over Danqing.
“Ahem, it’s the fault of the Taohua Niang—blame Qianzhi’s craftsmanship for being too excellent.” Zhuohua’s eyes darted about, a flush of pink spreading to both ears. “How is little Danqing? I held back my strength, and I hope the Taoist master will show mercy.”
“Hmph, if you had withdrawn your force a moment later, she would have become a fool. How should this debt be settled?” Judging by Fu Yun’s tone, it seemed Danqing was to be given a lesson; the child would likely be made to reflect on her mistakes. As for himself, he should still be allowed to stay at Zhiwei Guan, so he breathed a sigh of relief. “I will compensate with a courtyard full of blossoms to brew a courtyard’s worth of Taohua Niang for her, offer branches to craft an exorcising Peach Wood Sword, and if little Danqing ever marries, I will present aged Daughter Red wine. Taoist master, what do you think…”
“Still not enough.” Zhuohua frowned. “I have heard that greed knows no bounds. Taoist master, contentment brings lasting happiness.”
“You owe her an apology.” “…” Misunderstanding Fu Yun’s intent, Zhuohua clasped his hands toward him and said, “It seems I was mistaken. Thank you for the guidance, Taoist master.”
“Take care of yourselves, and I hope you can get along well. Otherwise, the karmic flames of Zixiao Palace’s alchemy furnace await you.”