For Liu Qiao’e, Mu Daoying was simply too rigid and proper.
Ever since Chen Yuro had settled Mu Daoying in Watercloud Ravine, she seemed to have forgotten his existence. No one came to interrogate him either.
Liu Qiao’e did not know her intentions, so she simply went about her own duties each day.
As an outer sect disciple, her status was low, and she handled tasks that were almost like those of a menial laborer.
Joyous Union Palace was located within Mirage Lake, a place abundant in waters and mountains.
To the east rose mountain peaks, with two peaks flanking a steep valley riddled with jagged rocks and drifting white clouds. It was known as Floating Cloud Valley. The valley was filled with plantings of rare flowers and herbs, immortal mushrooms and spirit medicines, blooming like a sea of flowers for the sect members and disciples to use daily.
Liu Qiao’e was in charge of tending the vast flower fields in the flower valley.
It was grueling work that consumed both time and energy. No one with any ambition would waste their precious cultivation time on it.
With the Joyous Union Grand Ceremony approaching once every sixty years, the event required vast quantities of exotic flowers and herbs for decoration. These past few days, Liu Qiao’e had buried herself in the yellow mud and soil, plowing and watering during the day, then dragging her heavy steps back to Watercloud Ravine at night, reeking of sweat.
In stark contrast was Mu Daoying’s spotless cleanliness.
She worked day and night upside down, collapsing into bed covered in dust and sweat after exhaustion.
Mu Daoying, however, adhered to a regular schedule day after day. He rarely slept, spending most of his time in meditative contemplation. In his free moments, he climbed Pinewind Cliff behind Watercloud Ravine. On the surface, he was observing the natural changes to seek unity with heaven and man, but in reality, he was scouting from on high, noting the patterns in the guard rotations at Joyous Union Palace’s side gate.
After sunset, Mu Daoying often read Daoist and Buddhist scriptures, occasionally playing the qin or painting.
There was an ancient qin named Spring Thunder in Watercloud Ravine, which had gathered a thick layer of dust from neglect. Today, it had finally met its Boya.
Though they lived under the same roof, it was as if they inhabited two clearly divided worlds.
That day, Mu Daoying had just returned from Pinewind Cliff when he suddenly noticed two muddy footprints at the door, the threshold caked in dirt.
He paused slightly, knowing what it meant. He cast a cleansing spell to wipe away the mud before lifting half his robe and stepping over the threshold.
Sure enough, a slender figure stood by the window, fiddling with something in her hands.
Hearing his movements, Liu Qiao’e said coolly, “You’re back?”
She turned around, cradling a pot of top-grade peony in her arms. Its petals, as wide as a bowl, were thick and layered, pinkish-white with an extremely soft and elegant hue.
Mu Daoying examined the peony closely. “Is this a flower from the flower valley?”
Liu Qiao’e had a hint of pride. “I tend to these flowers and plants all day. It didn’t disappoint me—I saw it growing well and brought a pot back. What do you think? Pretty, right?”
Though Mu Daoying had no intention of deepening their acquaintance, he wanted to build a good relationship with her. He praised without hesitation. “Fellow Daoist, your skillful hands have produced a flower of the finest quality.”
A pleased expression finally appeared on Liu Qiao’e’s sharp-featured face.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and just then, a disciple arrived with food. The vegetables and meat were all from spirit grasses and spirit beasts raised within the palace.
By rights, Mu Daoying was the guest and Liu Qiao’e the servant; they should not have shared a table. But Mu Daoying had entered Jade Clarity Temple under Ling Yuan’s tutelage at age twelve, where disciples ate and slept together without such formalities.
Mu Daoying asked, “Has Fellow Daoist eaten yet?”
After a day of hard labor, Liu Qiao’e’s stomach was empty and rumbling, but she did not want to show weakness in front of Mu Daoying. She was about to bluff and say she had eaten.
Mu Daoying’s extremely pale eyes glanced at her lightly, as if seeing through her feigned toughness. “Let’s eat together.”
Liu Qiao’e was at a loss for words. The two sat facing each other.
Mu Daoying did not rush to eat. Instead, he continued the earlier topic. “Is that Peach Blossom Flying Snow?”
He was referring to the peony she had brought back.
Liu Qiao’e was surprised. “You know of Peach Blossom Flying Snow?”
Mu Daoying said, “This humble one has a friend who also enjoys tending flowers and plants, so I have heard of it.”
Liu Qiao’e fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Is your friend male or female?” Her tone was a bit intense.
Mu Daoying was somewhat puzzled but answered, “A woman. You might have heard of her. Her family name is Shen, given name Chengyin. She is a disciple of Wandering Sword Pavilion.”
He was met with silence again.
Unsure where he had gone wrong, Mu Daoying tried to ease the atmosphere. “Fellow Daoist, your skillful hands… A-Yin loves making friends with all sorts of extraordinary people. If she met you, she would surely be delighted—”
“Delighted?!” Liu Qiao’e let out a cold laugh, interrupting his unfinished words.
Mu Daoying was mildly surprised and fell silent, watching her quietly.
Liu Qiao’e said sharply, “I’ve heard of Shen Chengyin’s great name everywhere. Born into the prestigious Shen clan, known as the Fragrant Embrace Immortal. How could someone like that stoop to befriend me?”
Mu Daoying said, “Fellow Daoist, you misunderstand—”
Liu Qiao’e said indignantly, “Misunderstand? Misunderstand what? Do you think I don’t know your kind of sect disciples? On the surface, approachable and polite, but in reality—ha! Looking down on everyone from on high! That politeness? It’s just the tolerance of someone peering down from their lofty height!”
Mu Daoying was momentarily speechless. He did not know what Liu Qiao’e had been through, but her sudden intensity and sharp words suggested deep resentment toward scions of great clans.
Through these days of interaction, Mu Daoying had gradually come to understand Liu Qiao’e’s temperament.
At first, he pitied her fragility and helplessness. Later, he realized how wrong he had been. On the very first day they met, she had offered her pillow and mat—
Though it was an unspoken tradition of Joyous Union Palace, it had still caught Mu Daoying off guard, leaving him at a loss.
His temperament was mild, and he was willing to be understanding. He figured she must have suffered greatly before, which had forged this cynical and sharp personality.
Over these past few days, she and he often clashed on current affairs. Mu Daoying never argued with her.
She despised all the rich, officials, and scions of great clans in the world, calling them wine sacks and rice bags, vermin and scourges, not a single good one among them.
And Mu Daoying was precisely the type of clan scion she hated most.
He had been born into a prominent aristocratic family in the mortal world, living a life of bells and tripods. His great-great-grandfather, great-grandfather, and grandfather had all served as the Three Dukes, and even his father held the position of Minister of Rites in the court. It was a family of scholars across generations, officials for ages.
Mu Daoying had been a prodigy in his youth: composing poetry at three, writing essays at five. At eight, he fell gravely ill, nearly alarming his entire family.
One day, a white-haired old Daoist floated in gracefully. With a flick of his sleeve and a light brush over Mu Daoying’s brow, the boy, who had been bedridden, recovered without medicine.
The old Daoist said he had immortal affinity, with immortal aura overflowing from him, easily attracting the covetous eyes of evil demons and outsiders. He could not remain in the mortal world, or he would be too wise for his own good, fated for an early death.
His parents, deeply loving their son, did not believe it at first. They thanked him profusely and respectfully saw him off.
The old Daoist did not insist, merely leaving an address, saying the Mu family could seek him at Jade Clarity Temple if they changed their minds.
Unexpectedly, a year later, Mu Daoying fell ill again, beyond the reach of medicine and stone. With no other choice, the family sent him to Jade Clarity Temple.
That old Daoist was his future master, Ling Yuan.
Mu Daoying came from a family of profound scholarship, raised in luxury like a pampered young master, endowed with innate wisdom roots and born with sword bone. Up to now, the first half of his life had been smooth sailing, the envy of others.
After entering Ling Yuan’s tutelage, he had solidified his Dao heart, swept away inner demons, preserved his pure nature, and kept his divine light ever-present. His temperament had naturally become aloof and refined. He had never quarreled with anyone or lost his temper.
Mu Daoying naturally knew Liu Qiao’e spoke some truth: great clans often had those who seized by trickery and force, sucking marrow from bones. Seeing her indignation, he had no intention of provoking her further or saying anything to upset her.
He let Liu Qiao’e vent fully. Once her anger subsided a bit, he apologized to her. “Sorry, it was my mistake in speaking. Fellow Daoist, you’ve worked hard all day—eat first.”
He handed her the chopsticks and said softly, “The dishes have gone cold; eating them will harm your stomach.”
It was that look again.
Liu Qiao’e pursed her lips, a flash of hatred crossing her eyes, as if scalded by fire.
Living under the same roof as Mu Daoying, how could she not see his disdain for her?!
Mu Daoying’s disdain was never direct, overt, intentional, or even something he was aware of.
But that was exactly what she meant by condescending tolerance.
Thinking of it filled Liu Qiao’e with a bellyful of anger.
Mu Daoying sat in silence, the atmosphere at the table awkward.
Liu Qiao’e slammed down her chopsticks and pushed the bowl away coldly. “I’m full. Take your time, Fellow Daoist Mu.”
She left Mu Daoying alone, facing the full table of dishes wordlessly.
In his heart, he thought, he and Liu Qiao’e were truly not on the same path.
–
In truth, she should have been gentler, more tolerant, not always like a firecracker ready to explode at the slightest touch.
That way, perhaps he would give her a smile, treat her a bit better.
But her nature was eccentric; she had long grown accustomed to giving no one a good face.
From the first glance at Mu Daoying, she had been secretly smitten with him.
Strangely, she both admired him and loathed him intensely.
Perhaps she loathed his pristine nobility, loathed that he was heaven’s favored child—with peerless looks, exalted status, and once-in-a-millennium talent.
Deep in her heart lurked an evil thought.
The higher he floated in the clouds, the more she wanted to drag him down, to see him covered in mud. She wanted to see him kneel and beg, see him in tears, disfigured, his proud bones shattered inch by inch, reduced to her level.
But that was just a thought. She, an insignificant little character, how could she pull down a celestial jade immortal from the heavens?
Harboring resentment and unwillingness, Liu Qiao’e took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and as usual, sat in meditation to enter a trance.
After Liu Qiao’e left, Mu Daoying sat alone for a moment, deeply feeling her reclusive coldness and imperviousness. Rome wasn’t built in a day; even if he wanted to mend relations, it could not happen overnight.
He cleared the bowls and chopsticks, stopped thinking about it, returned to his room, sat cross-legged with eyes closed, and entered meditative contemplation.
–
The next morning, a ray of sunlight broke through the horizon. Mu Daoying awoke from his trance.
Thinking of the unpleasant parting the night before, his heart sank slightly.
Mu Daoying was no naive flower ignorant of the world. His desire to befriend Liu Qiao’e stemmed from her lowly status in Joyous Union Palace, where she was almost at the mercy of anyone.
He knew she harbored hatred and resentment. Where there was resentment, there was room to maneuver; perhaps he could persuade her to defect and aid his escape.
It was not entirely honorable, and Mu Daoying knew it. But if she was willing to leave with him, he would do his utmost to help her cultivate and give her a clean, affluent life.
The question was how to open Liu Qiao’e’s heart…
As he pondered, an unfamiliar female voice came from the door.
“Is Daoist Mu here?”
Mu Daoying went to open the door and saw seven or eight girls in cloud-like hairdos and flowing skirts crowding the entrance. Each was fresh and radiant, blooming like tender peaches and lush plums in the early spring sunlight.
Seeing him appear, the crowd stirred slightly.
“He’s here! He’s here!”
The girls were full of energy, whispering to each other.
Mu Daoying gazed at them, puzzled. “What brings you fellow Daoists here?”
The leading woman in red was dressed particularly boldly and flamboyantly, her chest open to reveal a glimpse of crimson dudou, her green skirt thin as a cicada’s wings, exposing two snow-white legs. Her cloud-like hair was disheveled, adorned with several gold hairpins.
Seeing him, her eyes lit up. She said eagerly, “You’re Mu Daoying?”
Mu Daoying replied, “I am indeed Mu Daoying.”
He patiently asked, “May I ask what business the fellow Daoists have?”
The red-clad woman giggled. “As expected, so handsome and refined! We sisters have long heard of Daoist Mu’s fame. Learning that you came to our palace as a guest, we specially came to admire your celestial bearing.”
“How old are you, Daoist Mu? Are you married yet?”
The girls swarmed around him, chattering.
“Are you interested in the way of yellow and red?”
“We sisters are all hoping for a spring breeze with Daoist Mu!”
Mu Daoying’s heart tightened slightly. He deftly dodged one who threw herself into his arms without a change in expression.
Beauties always knew their own allure. Mu Daoying had known since childhood that his looks were superior, and he was no stranger to girls’ pursuits.
But his aloof and upright nature meant few women dared confess directly. Not like now, with their eyes gleaming, eager to devour him on the spot.
Mu Daoying suddenly felt his scalp tingle.
Seeing the young man’s jade-like face flush and him evade like a scorpion’s sting, the group of seasoned beauties giggled again.
“Don’t be shy, Daoist Mu.”
“Is Daoist Mu still a virgin?”
The spring sun shone brightly, flower-like beauties right before his eyes.
Yet Mu Daoying closed both eyes, sighed in his heart, and secretly resolved that if they took one step further, it would be disrespectful, and he would sternly refuse.
Who would have thought that at that moment, a hoarse, cold voice pierced through the warbling of orioles and swallows like a sharp arrow.
“Li Qingcheng.”
Mu Daoying opened his eyes and saw Liu Qiao’e walking over with a cold laugh, right up to the red-clothed woman, where she sternly said, “Acting slutty first thing in the morning, flirting right up to your grandma’s face?!”
Li Qingcheng’s expression changed: “Liu Qiao’e, it’s you again!”
Mu Daoying was shocked by these words that were bluntly vulgar beyond measure.
In the blink of an eye, Liu Qiao’e arrived with a frosty, gaunt face, striding forward boldly. Her thin lips parted, and a barrage of filthy words poured into his ears without warning.
“If you’re so itchy, go find a pillar and rub yourself on it—that’s still better than acting slutty at your grandma’s door and making a total fool of yourself!”
Li Qingcheng’s formerly soft and alluring face instantly turned ashen. Her almond eyes bulged like a leopard’s: “You! Me acting slutty? Even if I act slutty, it’s better than you, you ugly freak! Unwanted ugly whore!”
The exchange of crude insults flew back and forth with equal ferocity, causing Mu Daoying’s pupils to dilate as his mind blanked out briefly.