Liu Qiao’e’s heart skipped a beat again.
Mu Daoying’s pair of eyes fixed straight on her without deviation, waiting for her reply. His clear eyes held perfect candor.
Liu Qiao’e’s heart thumped wildly like a drum, filling her with agitation as she lowered her head.
When she lifted her eyes, Mu Daoying still had not withdrawn his gaze, waiting for her answer.
For some reason, anger surged within her, and a fierce resentment welled up from the depths of her heart. She hated his self-righteousness, his hypocritical uprightness and candor. She wished she could gouge out those eyes of his.
It took her great effort to steady her emotions before she mumbled unclearly, “So-so.”
Mu Daoying had been observing Liu Qiao’e’s expression all along. Hearing this, he let out a breath of relief. “If it could amuse Fellow Daoist, that is Ying’s good fortune.”
Liu Qiao’e had fickle moods, and he truly feared making a single misstep that might anger her again. That would derail his goal for the day.
Fortunately, under his active overture of goodwill, Liu Qiao’e’s expression finally softened.
But since their interests differed, they had nothing more to say. After this exchange, the two fell into silence as they looked at each other wordlessly.
In the end, Liu Qiao’e broke the quiet first. “I’ll head back to my room.”
Mu Daoying: “Alright.”
Liu Qiao’e took the flower hairpin, but Mu Daoying’s mood did not settle. After she left, he returned to his room, spread out paper, rolled up his sleeve, and began grinding ink.
Round after round, he ground the ink until it was thick and black, before finally setting pen to paper.
“Today, I quarreled with Fellow Daoist Liu, offending her—it was truly improper.”
He wrote down today’s mistake at the tip of his brush and examined himself. This was his daily habit.
No concealment, no embellishment, no euphemistic writing—he recorded everything plainly on paper, compared and corrected it daily, and stayed constantly vigilant.
After that one sentence, Mu Daoying gazed at the row of neat, stern small characters on the paper and fell silent again.
Had his apology today been solely for this reason?
Even if he did not want to admit it, Mu Daoying had to concede that when he first heard Liu Qiao’e utter those vulgar insults today, a sense of disgust had indeed arisen in his heart.
Perhaps disgust at her vulgarity, her shallowness.
Yet Liu Qiao’e knew nothing of this and still accepted his flower hairpin, which left a bad taste in his mouth.
Though Fellow Daoist Liu’s words lacked elegance, she had treated him with sincerity.
This was truly not the act of a gentleman. Mu Daoying felt a chill in his heart. He pressed force into his brush tip, silently warning himself to take it as a lesson and never repeat it.
Though he said so, interactions between people were never that simple.
One’s living habits, temperament, interests, and ways of handling affairs all influenced views and attitudes toward each other.
Mu Daoying’s thoughts fluctuated restlessly until late into the night, when he finally set down his brush and went to sit in meditation to regulate his breathing. He meditated diligently every day without slacking.
Though Watercloud Ravine boasted beautiful scenery, the cave dwelling was not large. Mu Daoying lived in the east room, Liu Qiao’e in the west.
Early the next morning, hearing the sounds of Liu Qiao’e leaving, Mu Daoying opened his eyes.
He knew Liu Qiao’e had not slept a wink that night either.
If there was anything about Liu Qiao’e worth his admiration, it was her diligence in cultivation.
He was deep in enemy territory and dared not slack off, hoping only to recover his body soon and await a chance to escape.
But Liu Qiao’e, ever since they began living together, Mu Daoying had never seen her sleep. She replaced sleep with meditation.
–
Liu Qiao’e spent the entire night unable to enter a state of meditation.
She had originally placed the flower hairpin on the table, but she kept opening her eyes to look at it. The more she looked, the sweeter her heart felt.
Useless thing. Liu Qiao’e silently cursed herself.
She was quite self-aware and knew Mu Daoying would never look favorably on her. It was just a ploy to win her over, yet it left her fully aware while her heart fluttered like a startled deer, unable to sit or stand still.
Liu Qiao’e got up and swept the flower hairpin into its box. After a while, feeling it still unsafe, she shoved it into the deepest corner of the cabinet before feeling at ease.
Liu Qiao’e had not wanted to dwell on it, but the idea of making Mu Daoying her cloud-mountain companion grew ever stronger. She could not stop fantasizing and outlining it in her mind.
If she could truly win Mu Daoying, just imagining the faces of those bitches Li Qingcheng, Fan Shuyun, and Bai Mengli nearly made her burst out laughing.
The problem was, with Mu Daoying’s aloof and ascetic demeanor, would he agree to become her cloud-mountain companion?
Liu Qiao’e began pondering how to win him over.
This man was upright and compassionate toward the weak. It was all her fault for acting too aggressively these past few days; she needed to bow her head at the right time.
Liu Qiao’e had zero experience in pleasing men.
Seeing that this sour fellow particularly loved the arts—qin, chess, calligraphy, painting, and romantic sentiments like flowers, snow, and moon—she simply brought him a pot of flowers every day, all different varieties but blooming vibrantly.
Mu Daoying refused twice, but she persisted regardless, and he had no choice but to accept.
Seeing this, Liu Qiao’e was greatly encouraged and grew even more enthusiastic.
That day, as soon as Mu Daoying entered the room, he sensed something amiss.
The youth’s pale, serene eyes swept over the room’s furnishings one by one. The window was half-open, everything bright and clean, and the ink and brushes on the table had been neatly put away.
He had never liked others entering his bedroom without permission and initially wanted to question Liu Qiao’e.
But as his gaze shifted, he noticed the pots of flowers Liu Qiao’e had brought back these days.
He could not refuse those flowers, so he had placed them on the bookshelves and desk, creating a sea of fragrant blooms.
Fine then. Thinking of Liu Qiao’e’s clumsy overtures these past days, Mu Daoying ultimately dismissed the thought. He walked to the desk and restored each item to its usual position that suited him best.
But facts proved that some principles in interactions with others still needed to be made clear to each other.
That evening, as Mu Daoying sat in meditation as usual,
Someone knocked on the door: “Knock knock.”
Two knocks, then a pause, revealing the visitor’s hesitation and pacing.
Mu Daoying opened his eyes. “Please come in.”
Liu Qiao’e hugged a wooden basin, hesitating as she poked her head in and stepped inside.
She knew not when she had changed into a pink floral dress, with a large flower pinned at her temple.
Her long, thin face was coated thickly white, her brows drawn pitch black, cheeks smeared with stiff clumps of rouge that had not fully blended, and lipstick slopped beyond her lips. It was a sloppy, garish mess.
Seeing her suddenly at night, she resembled a paper effigy from a grave. Mu Daoying stared in shock, speechless.
This appearance of hers made him almost unable to recognize her. “Fellow Daoist Liu?”
“Daozhang—” Liu Qiao’e looked somewhat uneasy, her speech uncharacteristically polite and restrained.
The woman timidly bent down and placed the basin full of water at his feet.
Mu Daoying: “…”
He had already vaguely guessed the oddity but preferred to have misunderstood. “Fellow Daoist Liu?”
Yet Liu Qiao’e knelt before him, head bowed, and said softly, “Fellow Daoist has been busy and tired all day. Allow this humble one to serve you by soaking your feet and resting.”
The dim lamplight outlined the soft curve of the woman’s neck.
Mu Daoying: “…” He finally confirmed that Liu Qiao’e had indeed been acting strangely these past few days.
She was being overly accommodating toward him.
But why had Liu Qiao’e suddenly changed her tune? Could it truly be the effect of that flower hairpin?
Mu Daoying remained silent for a long while, feeling a profound absurdity. “Fellow Daoist Liu, you truly need not go this far.”
He had risen to fame young, and his circle consisted of youths like himself—prodigies and heaven’s proud sons, all brimming with youthful spirit and unrestrained pride.
Liu Qiao’e’s odd behavior these days clearly stemmed from wanting something from him, but in Mu Daoying’s view, cultivators ought to tread mountains and rivers firmly, let their aspirations soar to the skies, and maintain a broad, unburdened outlook. Even if seeking something, how could one adopt such a cowardly, servile demeanor?
A faint aversion rose in his heart—not toward her personally, but toward her manner of handling things.
Liu Qiao’e hurriedly explained, “This humble one does all this willingly.”
Mu Daoying was instantly speechless.
Liu Qiao’e sensed something wrong and hesitantly asked, “Daozhang, did this humble one do something wrong?”
Of course it was wrong—terribly wrong.
Not to mention her conduct, even her makeup and attire today struck Mu Daoying as overly vulgar and flashy.
His ideal of women had always been serene and plain, with inner elegance. Liu Qiao’e had deliberately tried to seduce him today but went completely against that, throwing flirtations to the blind.
Though Mu Daoying felt some aversion, upon second thought, he found her cluelessness somewhat innocently endearing.
After a pause, he patiently explained, “No, you did nothing wrong. Merely, the Dao follows nature, heaven and earth share roots, all things are one—we cultivators are all equals. Fellow Daoist need not go to such extremes for me.”
—Even when seeking something from another, one need not stoop so low in obeisance.
He did not know how to convey the latter half without angering Liu Qiao’e.
Liu Qiao’e seemed to half-understand.
Mu Daoying paused again, not expecting to clarify it all at once, so he swallowed the rest. “Forget it. Just remember never to do this again.”
Before she could speak, Mu Daoying suddenly added, “Out with it.”
Liu Qiao’e started. “Out with what?”
Mu Daoying looked at her steadily. “Fellow Daoist has done so much these days. Surely you have a request?”
Mu Daoying’s eyes were extremely pale, like the clear sky after rain. Liu Qiao’e felt her face heat up.
He had noticed!
Should she say it? Was now the time?
If she did not say it now, would she have to keep up the pretense of fawning for days more? The problem was, even if she fawned for a year or two, he might still not look favorably on her!
In truth, she had only persisted for a short while before regretting it. Back when she had to climb up, to gain a foothold in Joyous Union Palace, she too had stooped and fawned with smiles.
Those days were so long ago that she had nearly forgotten them herself.
She thought her temperament, though a bit hasty, was ultimately flexible enough to bend and stretch.
Yet for some reason, she just did not want to fawn over Mu Daoying! These few days of effort had already exhausted all her mental energy!
Fine then. From his demeanor, it seemed he was not buying into it anyway.
She had at least kept up appearances these days.
Gritting her teeth, Liu Qiao’e finally asked, “Do you know of the Joyous Union Grand Ceremony?”
Mu Daoying: “You mean your sect’s Joyous Union Grand Ceremony, held once every sixty years?”
Liu Qiao’e: “Yes.” She explained the origins of the cloud-mountain companion to him.
As soon as she finished speaking, Mu Daoying fell into a long silence.
Liu Qiao’e’s heart plunged into an ice cellar, cooling by half.
After a very, very long time—or perhaps just an instant—Mu Daoying finally spoke, his voice cold and steady like jade struck on ice. “My apologies. I appreciate Fellow Daoist’s favor, but Ying cannot comply.”
Liu Qiao’e trembled all over and bit her teeth tightly.
He had rejected her again.
Rejected her time and again.
A night breeze blew in, making the bean-sized lamp flame on the table flicker like chaff.
Liu Qiao’e shivered and suddenly came back to herself, realizing that not much time had passed at all. Mu Daoying had rejected her almost the instant he heard the proposal, without hesitation.
With a loud bang, Liu Qiao’e shoved the door open and stormed out.
“Liu—” Mu Daoying stood up, wanting to call her back.
But in the end, he pressed his lips together and did not call out or try to stop her.
Liu Qiao’e burst through the door and fled Watercloud Ravine like the wind.
Her blood seemed to burn, scorching her mind into a fever. She hurried along, leaping high and low to avoid people, until she reached Floating Petal Peak.
The main hall of Floating Petal Peak stood silently atop the peak.
Liu Qiao’e stood stunned at the hall door for a second.
She had rushed to the main hall purely on instinct.
…What was she doing at the main hall?
The guards over there had already spotted her and approached, waving torches.
The Immaculate Old Mother was currently in seclusion at Cloud-Biting Tower, so Chief Steward Chen Yuro was temporarily handling sect affairs in the main hall alongside Deputy Leader Qi Mei.
Liu Qiao’e vaguely felt she remembered something, yet had also forgotten something.
Just as the guards moved to drive her away, a gentle voice suddenly came from inside the hall.
“Who’s outside? Liu Qiao’e? Let her into the hall.”
Liu Qiao’e took a deep breath and walked properly into the grand hall.
Chen Yuro, the Chief Steward—this gentle and glamorous woman lay reclining lazily on the couch, taking a nap.
Seeing Liu Qiao’e arrive, Chen Yuro’s lips unconsciously curved into a smile. She directly waved away her attendants.
Her tone was remarkably soft. “You’ve come?”
Liu Qiao’e started!
For some reason, she clearly remembered having only a few encounters with Chief Steward Chen, yet Chen Yuro always treated her with great intimacy.
While she stood dazed, Chen Yuro had already leaned over with a beaming smile and taken her hand.
Liu Qiao’e hurriedly bowed to evade, but Chen Yuro’s fingertip lightly tapped her forehead.
A wisp of light spiritual energy entered her ancestral aperture between her brows, instantly piercing through her true nature, obscured and polluted by countless worries and obsessions.
Liu Qiao’e shuddered all over, as if suddenly enlightened. Her dazed eyes instantly cleared with flowing light, abruptly becoming lucid, a faint cold intent rising in their depths.
She met that pair of familiar yet strange indifferent eyes.
Chen Yuro softly asked, “Old Mother?”