But in this moment, after all, it was no longer their first encounter.
Because back then, after a soft sigh, the young Daoist Lord had asked with pity in her voice. “Why seek death?”
Why seek death? Why cling to life?
All answers depended entirely on a single person.
Mist condensed at the slightly upturned outer corner of her eye, and today, that very person watched with her own eyes as this dewdrop fell like rain.
Sliding down along with it was the thin gauze draped over her shoulder.
Like a light cloud floating out from the mountains, the saturated, milky white silk was peeled away inch by inch, revealing the jade white bone and icy skin beneath.
Perhaps due to the heat of the thermal spring, the porcelain-smooth neck and shoulders flushed red, resembling a gradient pastel painted by the hand of the finest artisan, priceless the moment it left the kiln.
Her gaze fixed on this spot, Cong Jinyue murmured in a daze, “Master…?”
Something flashed through the depths of her soul and slipped away before she could catch it. Snapping back to clarity, she hurriedly pulled the thin gauze back over the exposed shoulder, letting out a low gasp: “Master!”
One naked, the other disheveled, wrapped tightly in each other’s embrace.
Was this how a master and disciple were supposed to behave?
Once the clothing was restored to its proper place, the elder holding her in her arms slowly let go. Long eyelashes drooped down, shading most of her eyes and concealing her emotions, as she said softly, “Be careful.”
Regaining her freedom from the embrace, Cong Jinyue offered a quick response, scooped up her inner garment from the pool’s edge, and hastily slipped into it, covering her vital areas. Only then did her racing heart begin to settle.
After putting on a middle garment, she finally looked back at the person in the spring.
Jiang Xingxuan was already sitting cross-legged in the center of the pool, her expression serene, looking back at her with a gentle and composed gaze.
The hands that had held her body just moments ago were now resting on her knees. The tips of her thumbs and middle fingers touched light together, while the remaining three fingers curled naturally, appearing completely relaxed.
Master was merely acting to protect me. What am I panicking about?
Like a dye vat suddenly smashed open, colors splashed across the floor in a chaotic blur. Cong Jinyue unnaturally averted her eyes, unable to bring herself to look closely at the fairy in the clear spring. She merely whispered, “Master, then I… will return to my room first.”
Receiving a permission delivered in the same soft tone, she clutched her crimson outer robe in her arms and departed in haste.
Had she not been in such a rush, Cong Jinyue might have noticed that the serene Daoist Lord had pale fingertips, and a crescent-shaped fingernail mark was clearly indented into the pad of her middle finger.
Jiang Xingxuan was silently blaming herself as well.
It was her own mistake to think time had turned back or that memories had returned, causing her to act too hastily and startle the person away.
Ayue held no romantic affection for her right now, and she had been somewhat shaken in the Weapon Mound last night. If she were to rashly open her heart tonight and pour out her heavy, damp truths and tender feelings, it might only burden Ayue further.
Perhaps Ayue would even think she had fallen into madness over a deceased wife whose body was never found, making her unwilling to stay by her side.
Though, in truth, she had indeed gone mad and birthed an inner demon.
Jiang Xingxuan remained silent for a long moment before pressing the crescent mark against the jade pendant beneath her ear, gently ringing the bell to push back the spreading black mist within her sea of consciousness.
It didn’t matter. Perhaps she, too, needed some time to untangle the knotted mess of her thoughts and figure out how to interact with someone who had lost her memories.
Either way, at least that person was back, wasn’t she?
Jiang Xingxuan raised her eyes toward the bright moon and silver flowers that had remained unchanged for twenty-five years, crossing her arms over her chest as if she were still holding both her past beloved and her new disciple in her arms.
For the rest of her life, she would never part from her again.
Thinking of separation, even the small distance between the front building and the back courtyard began to feel unbearable for Jiang Xingxuan.
Stepping out of the spring pool, she flicked her finger to dispel the dampness on her body, turning into the courtyard with an aura of immortal elegance, only to find a figure clad in red pacing back and forth.
It was currently early spring. Even down in Huaizhou City at the foot of the mountain, the daytime heat would dissipate under a single night breeze, let alone here at the peak of the thousand-fathom-high Changye Ridge.
Jiang Xingxuan waved her sleeve to ward off the chilly wind before asking, “The weather is still cold, why hasn’t Ayue gone inside?”
“Master, where should I sleep?”
The person before her unconsciously pressed her thumb inward, habitually rubbing an armor-callus that no longer existed. Her gaze jumped abruptly from Jiang Xingxuan’s shoulder, as if the elder were a piece of red-hot iron rather than flesh and blood.
Catching this familiar tiny gesture out of the corner of her eye, the quiet ache in Jiang Xingxuan’s heart settled slightly. She smiled and offered a gentle temptation:
“Ayue saw it as well, Changye Ridge has no extra rooms. Until the new house is built, I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer sharing a bed with me. Is that fine?”
Cong Jinyue kept her eyes fixed on a distant tree trunk: “I’ll take a set of bedding and sleep on the floor next to Master’s bed.”
“No matter.” Jiang Xingxuan took her hand and led her inside, bringing her to the bed before raising a hand to extinguish the candlelight. “Go to sleep.”
The spring night ran deep, filled with floating faint fragrances, just like countless nights in the past.
Despite sharing a bed with someone she had just met, Cong Jinyue felt none of the awkwardness she had anticipated.
The person beside her breathed evenly, her body warm like a piece of soothing jade in the chilly night, carrying a calming effect that gradually lulled Cong Jinyue’s chaotic mind into peace.
Amid the subtle fragrance, she unexpectedly drifted off to sleep.
It could be considered a good night’s rest, if one ignored the breath sniffing at her neck in her dreams and the recurring calls coming from the realm of sleep:
“Ayue, Ayue, Ayue…”
The next day, before dawn broke, Cong Jinyue felt rolling thunder overhead, as if a downpour were imminent.
Snapping back to consciousness, she opened her eyes to see that the “thunder” was actually a furry lump curled up beside her.
It was Mantou, lying belly-up by her pillow, snoring thunderously.
So last night, was it Mantou returning mid-way through the night, using her wet nose to nuzzle and sniff at her?
Could Mantou talk now?
Reaching out her index finger slightly to the side, Cong Jinyue realized the space next to her was already empty, leaving behind only a trace of warmth that was barely perceptible.
Just as her palm cupped that lingering heat, a gentle greeting floated over like Mantou’s soft fur, tickling her senses: “Ayue, you’re awake? Did you sleep well?”
Jiang Xingxuan laid down her brush, rose from behind the desk, and walked toward her.
Today, the striking Daoist Lord wore a dark pine-green robe, standing like an enduring pine or cypress that had braved decades of harsh frost without fading. It toned down her soft charm, adding a layer of resilience, while each of her steps seemed to sprout the vitality of a new year.
Cong Jinyue suddenly felt that her Master had always worn such steady, subdued colors, rather than the bright red robes she wore yesterday.
Yesterday, it felt as though her Master had borrowed someone else’s clothing, and had worn it for many, many years.
“I slept well.” She flipped out of bed, draped her outer robe over her shoulders, and looked toward Jiang Xingxuan. “Master, what should I do today?”
Jiang Xingxuan guided her into a chair, waved a hand to conjure a water mirror, gathered her dark hair, and retrieved an exquisitely carved wooden hairpin to secure her bun.
The gentle smile and tender gaze on her face didn’t look like an elder styling a junior’s hair, rather, it felt like…
Before Cong Jinyue could study it further, Jiang Xingxuan smoothed the long hair beside her forehead behind her ear, then flicked a drop of water onto the civet cat’s nose, startling her awake:
“Elder Rong will be coming here shortly to discuss sect affairs with me. Ayue, follow Mantou to the dining hall to grab something to eat first.”
The civet cat blinked dazedly, taking a couple of seconds to shake her big head, slapping her ears against her forehead and cheeks with crisp pa-pa sounds.
She leaped outside, stretched lazily, tilted her head to look at Cong Jinyue, and let out a raspy meow.
Ah, Mantou still couldn’t speak human words.
Riding a tiger was something that got easier with practice. By this fourth time, dismounting was no longer a difficult task.
Grasping the tiger’s fur, Cong Jinyue rode Mantou as they dashed down Changye Ridge, arriving in an instant at an open training ground cradled by surrounding mountains.
Three thousand disciples were filing out of their respective quarters, neatly dressed in sect uniforms. Their expressions varied, some walked in groups of three or five, while others stood solitary. Some ran toward the dining hall with large strides, while others ambled leisurely toward the lecture halls.
Last night’s surprise attack had done nothing to hinder the vibrant growth of the sect’s disciples.
Cong Jinyue dismounted at the edge of the crowd, and the white tiger instantly transformed, morphing into an ornament wrapped around her neck.
Stroking the black-and-white tail, Cong Jinyue followed the crowd into the dining hall. Before even reaching the disciples distributing food, she saw a cluster of youths gathered around someone with rapt attention from afar.
A sky-blue hair ribbon flickered in and out of sight, bobbing up and down along with a jet-black hair bun: “Did you know? Daoist Lord Wangshu is the only cultivator in this world who can manipulate ice using a Water Spiritual Root!”
“Twenty years ago, she charged into the Ten Thousand Demon Tomb all by herself. Relying on her exquisite sword technique, she summoned water and froze it into ice, obtaining the Soul-Nurturing Wood that grows merely an inch every hundred years!”
What an eloquent, boastful voice.
Hearing her before seeing her, Cong Jinyue couldn’t help patting Mantou, signaling her to go eat first.
Since it concerned her Master, she was going to step closer and listen carefully.
Blending into the crowd, Cong Jinyue finally saw the disciple speaking so animatedly.
She wore a moon-white sect uniform. Compared to most disciples, the color of her attire had a bluer tint, like fresh snow resting on tree branches under a night moon.
Moon-white was originally a quiet, pure color, yet because of this person’s lively, even wildly expressive, demeanor, it took on the unique, flamboyant energy of youth.
With her back turned to Cong Jinyue, she continued her dramatic narration: “Afterward, the Daoist Lord rode the clouds and whipped up the wind, charging alone right into the Shrine of Invoking Gods!”
“What nobody expected was that with only an early Golden Core cultivation, the Daoist Lord practically wiped out the entire Wujian Sect all by herself!”
She pointed her index and middle fingers together like a sword, suddenly sweeping it out in a half circle. The surrounding disciples gasped in shock, flinching half a step back.
One of the bolder ones asked curiously, “Then how did the Wujian Sect manage to survive?”
The central disciple raised an eyebrow, her round eyes widening as she said indignantly, “Because the Master of the Wujian Sect was completely shameless! He formed a massive array with his protectors, intending to suppress and kill the Daoist Lord right there!”
Amid the sighs of disbelief, another person chimed in hurriedly, “Then how did the Daoist Lord escape?”
“Right at that critical moment, our Sect Master descended from the heavens in all her glory as an Immortal!” She clutched the fabric at her chest. “Ever since then, the Daoist Lord has been in secluded cultivation to heal her injuries, only coming out yesterday.”
Hearing this, Cong Jinyue finally couldn’t resist speaking up: “Have the Daoist Lord’s injuries completely healed?”
“Who knows? We’ll probably have to wait for my Master’s diagnosis.” The disciple answered without turning around, continuing her eloquent rant. “But who would’ve thought? A mortal who couldn’t even break through a illusion array ended up reaping the rewards!”
Behind her, Cong Jinyue, the very “mortal who reaped the rewards”, showed no anger. Instead, her face remained calm, her posture so relaxed it was as if she were listening to someone else’s gossip.
“The Daoist Lord actually broke precedent publicly for her sake!” In her indignation, she spun around and pointed at the surrounding crowd. “If you ask me, if one’s character isn’t up to par, even a Heavenly Spiritual Root is useless!”
“Just wait and see! Whether she’s a mule or a horse, we’ll see her true colors at the Sect Competition half a year from now!”
When she turned toward Cong Jinyue, she suddenly stopped in her tracks,愣ing for a moment before bursting into a cheerful smile: “This, Junior Sister? You just joined the sect yesterday, right?”
The person standing before her had jet-black hair and snow-white skin. Unclad in sect robes, she wore a striking crimson outfit, her composed expression radiating a natural, unyielding pride.
She resembled a mountain standing tall for ten thousand years, outstanding, yet not arrogant, quietly observing all living beings attempting to climb and surpass it.
Having spent twenty years recognizing every fellow disciple in the sect, if she had seen such a striking figure before, how could she possibly have forgotten her?
So she had to be a newly joined junior sister.
Cong Jinyue curved her lips into a smile and replied naturally, “I did indeed just join the sect yesterday.”
“Here is a bottle of Solidifying Foundation Pills, consider it a welcoming gift from me.” The disciple pulled out a small teal bottle out of thin air and stuffed it into Cong Jinyue’s hand. “I am Feng Zhongshan under Elder Rong of the Rongku Valley. What is your name, Junior Sister?”
The crowd suddenly parted slightly as an agitated cat used its tail to hook a food box, squeezing her way in while meowing and grumbling furiously all the way.
Feng Zhongshan watched wide eyed as the cat familiarly leaped onto her good junior sister’s shoulder, glaring down at her with a pair of cold, amber slit pupils.
Like a pot boiling over, whispers erupted all around. “T-This big fat cat… isn’t it the one that always comes to the dining hall by itself to feast?”
“Hush! Don’t talk nonsense! That’s the Spirit Tiger raised by Daoist Lord Wangshu, treated like her own child!”
“Then… then this junior sister, isn’t she…?”
In the center of the instantly boiling crowd, Cong Jinyue looked at the stunned Senior Sister Feng and gave a calm, elegant smile.
“Under Daoist Lord Wangshu, Cong Jinyue. Greetings, Senior Sister Feng.”