A fine drizzle drifted on a slanting breeze; the lingering traces of spring were fading.
Clouds and mist gathered in dense layers, shrouding the entirety of Rizhao in a veil of white smoke. In the rear mountains, the pear blossoms had bloomed in competition, creating a vast expanse of white that rivaled frost and outshone snow.
A figure carrying an umbrella moved slowly through the thousands of snow-like trees. Petals had already settled upon the ribs of his black bamboo umbrella. The man was tall and his posture leisurely; in his well-defined hand, he carried two jars of fresh wine, which clinked together with a crisp sound as he walked.
Upon reaching the largest pear tree in the center of the orchard, the figure finally stopped. He tilted the umbrella back slightly, revealing a cold and handsome face—it was the now-grown Zhou Fuxue.
He set the umbrella aside and lowered himself slightly, his eyelashes drooping. With slow, graceful movements, he buried the jars of pear blossom wine beneath the tree. His expression remained fixed in its perennial indifference, as if nothing in the world could move him in the slightest.
In that short time, the snowy pear blossoms drifted down onto his hair crown and the hem of his robes. Clinging to the fabric in the light rain, they adorned his deep blue Rizhao robes like flecks of snow.
Five years was neither a long time nor a short one. The half-grown child who had first arrived at Rizhao, feigning composure while filled with inner turmoil, had grown into a refined young gentleman. Every movement he made exuded elegance.
It was a wonder that, under Ming Zhu’s unreliable influence, he had managed to hold fast to his original heart and grow into such an aura of grace, as ethereal as the clouds and the moon.
Once the wine was buried, he ignored the petals on his clothes and raised his umbrella once more to depart.
From the distance came the toll of an ancient bell, hollow and far-reaching, its echo lingering in the air.
Zhou Fuxue’s brow furrowed, and his pace quickened. Just as he stepped out of the rear pear orchard, a figure standing on the steps not far away waved to him. "Senior Brother, hurry! Little Martial Uncle is already waiting at the Disciple’s Terrace. Do not miss the hour for descending the mountain!"
"Understood," Zhou Fuxue replied, walking quickly toward him. "I am coming."
In the late spring of the thirty-first year of the Chang'an era, the mist hung heavy and the rain flew light as pear blossoms filled the sky.
By the time Zhou Fuxue reached the Rizhao Disciple’s Terrace, Gui He had been waiting for a long while, his hands tucked into his sleeves. It was a strange habit of this gentle and refined Little Martial Uncle; normally, he never went anywhere without an umbrella in hand, yet whenever it actually rained, he would close the umbrella and hold it, allowing the drifting rain to soak his robes.
Zhou Fuxue walked up quickly and bowed in a formal disciple’s salute. "Greetings, Little Martial Uncle."
Gui He maintained his usual air of quiet elegance, like a fragrant orchid. Tiny droplets of rain condensed on his eyelashes, rolling down his face when he blinked. He spoke softly, "Fuxue, have you prepared everything for your journey down the mountain?"
Zhou Fuxue shook the storage chain on his wrist. "Everything is ready. Thank you for your concern, Martial Uncle."
"Your Master happens to be in seclusion during this time and cannot see you off personally, so he asked me to pass on a few words." Gui He reached out a hand wet with rain and lightly tapped Zhou Fuxue’s brow. "During this journey of cultivation, remember: do not be angry, do not be impulsive, and do not be despondent. Maintain your original heart. The mortal world is clamorous; do not let yourself be lingeringly attached to it."
Zhou Fuxue lowered his head slightly. As Gui He’s cold fingertip touched his brow, a surge of frigid spiritual energy suddenly rushed into his spiritual sea, reminiscent of the protective charm Ming Zhu had given him as a meeting gift when they first met.
"Yes. My thanks to Master and Martial Uncle."
Only after the spiritual energy was transferred did Gui He withdraw his hand. "Your Tenth Senior Brother was supposed to accompany you on this journey, but the continuous rain these past few days caused him to catch a sudden chill, leaving him bedridden. Since your Master is away, I have taken the liberty of asking another of your senior brothers to go with you."
Zhou Fuxue looked up coldly at the senior brother who had been standing silently to the side with his sleeves tucked in. Suddenly, he felt that perhaps this journey wasn't worth going on after all.
Gui He said, "Qingkong, I leave Fuxue in your hands for this journey."
Like Ming Zhu, Lu Qingkong never wore his Rizhao robes properly. He wore a plain black set of robes, and from his belt hung various small mechanical trinkets and pendants. As he moved, they clattered with the "click-clack" sound of machinery, which was quite eerie.
Others found Lu Qingkong’s bizarre aesthetic completely incomprehensible. Fortunately, he never cared for the opinions of others; if it weren't for the fact that the mechanisms he developed were quite heavy, he would have loved to wear them all on his head to parade through the streets.
Zhou Fuxue and Lu Qingkong glanced at each other, and both quickly turned away with expressions of mutual disdain.
Lu Qingkong raised his hand in a cold salute to his Little Martial Uncle. "Yes."
The grudge between the two had persisted since the incident at Baijian Mountain. Over the years, they had not only failed to reconcile but had grown even more averse to one another. On a normal day, looking at the other made them want to gouge their own eyes out.
That being said, they both respectfully saluted their Little Martial Uncle before turning to walk toward the Three Thousand Steps.
As if sensing something, Zhou Fuxue suddenly turned slightly to look at Rizhao Mountain, which was shrouded in rain and mist. His gaze flickered.
Seeing this, the Little Martial Uncle smiled gently. "Your eldest senior brother also happens to be in seclusion these days and cannot see you off. If you have any words for him, you can tell me, and I will pass them on when he emerges."
Zhou Fuxue shook his head. "I have none. Little Martial Uncle, Fuxue takes his leave."
The Little Martial Uncle waved at him. Only then did Zhou Fuxue turn and begin his descent down the misty green Three Thousand Steps. He raised the wrist wearing the jade token and lightly pressed it against the protrusion of his collarbone. Whatever he was thinking of caused a flash of softness to cross his face, though it vanished in an instant.
Lu Qingkong didn't wait for him; in that short time, he had already moved so far ahead that he was merely a dark silhouette.
Zhou Fuxue had been diligent every day for the past five years. Although he lacked spiritual veins, he had successfully reached the Foundation Establishment stage using that Wuxin Sword. The two of them walked down as if they were in a race, competing to see who could reach the bottom first. A journey that usually took over an hour was forced down to a mere forty-five minutes.
As they stepped onto the final stone stair, the jade token on Zhou Fuxue’s wrist rippled with a surge of green spiritual energy. In an instant, the surrounding light brightened, and a long, winding path through a peach forest came into view.
The moment they left the protection of Rizhao Mountain’s boundary, Lu Qingkong immediately cast aside the facade of brotherly affection he had maintained before Gui He. He turned coldly and grabbed Zhou Fuxue’s collar, his words like ice: "Hand it over."
Zhou Fuxue had just turned sixteen, but whatever Ming Zhu had been feeding him over the years had caused him to grow like a weed; he was actually slightly taller than Lu Qingkong.
He was cold and distant toward others, but toward Lu Qingkong, he made no effort to hide his hostility. Before Lu Qingkong could even touch his collar, he coldly raised a hand and ruthlessly swiped his wrist away. "Don't touch me. This isn't your property anyway."
Lu Qingkong’s eyes narrowed with a mocking sneer. "The array on my mechanism only allows a living person to survive inside for an hour. Are you sure you want to waste time bickering with me here and let him suffocate to death inside?"
"You—!" Zhou Fuxue snapped.
The two stood in opposition, neither willing to yield.
In the end, it was Zhou Fuxue who softened. He glared coldly at Lu Qingkong, reached out to yank the pendant from his neck, and handed it over.
Lu Qingkong gave a huff as he took the Zhenyü Pearl—the artifact capable of storing living beings. With a casual flick of his wrist, a red shadow suddenly appeared in the air. A wail rang out as the person crashed straight into Zhou Fuxue.
Regardless of whether Lu Qingkong had done it on purpose, Zhou Fuxue hurriedly reached out to catch the person in a full embrace. "Senior Brother!"
The person inside the Zhenyü Pearl was none other than Ming Zhu, who had been dreaming of escaping Rizhao Mountain for years. His red robes were in disarray and his long hair flowed loose as Zhou Fuxue caught him around the waist. Due to the weightlessness of flying out of the pearl, he instinctively reached out to wrap his arms around Zhou Fuxue’s neck, refusing to let go for dear life.
With his eyes squeezed shut, Ming Zhu asked tremulously, "Have—have I landed yet?"
Lu Qingkong stepped forward impatiently, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him down. "Stop being an idiot. We've already left Rizhao."
Ming Zhu swayed for a long time before he could stand steadily. He looked around at his surroundings in a daze. Before he could even feel joy, his face turned pale, and he ran to the side to vomit as if his life depended on it.
Zhou Fuxue hurried after him to pat his back, frowning. "We didn't even fly on a sword. Can it really make someone feel this unwell?"
Ming Zhu leaned into Zhou Fuxue’s embrace, weakly clutching his shoulder to keep from falling. His voice was as thin as a thread. "The Zhenyü Pearl... it kept shaking. You try staying inside for over an hour and see if you don't vomit."
Ming Zhu had always been devoted to pleasure and comfort. If it weren't for the fact that this was the only way to escape Rizhao Mountain, he would never have stuffed himself into the Zhenyü Pearl to be tossed around for nearly an hour.
He vomited until he was on the verge of collapse. It was only after Zhou Fuxue cupped his face and fed him some water that he began to feel better.
"We are out of Rizhao."
Ming Zhu looked up listlessly at the peach forest with its falling blossoms. Thinking of something, he suddenly pointed at a nearby peach tree. "When I first went up to Rizhao Mountain, this tree was only this big..."
He used his thumb and forefinger to gesture a small diameter. His shimmering eyes looked at the thick peach tree, which now required a full embrace to encircle. For some reason, a faint smile appeared on his pale face. He tilted his head and murmured softly, "No, what does that matter? I still got out."
*No one can keep me trapped,* Ming Zhu thought.
Seeing his expression of lonely wildness, Zhou Fuxue felt a slight tremor in his heart. "Senior Brother?"
Ming Zhu looked up and smiled at him. "It’s nothing. Let’s head down the mountain as soon as possible. If Little Martial Uncle realizes I’m gone, he might put out a continent-wide warrant for my arrest."
Seeing that Ming Zhu even had difficulty standing, Zhou Fuxue sighed and dutifully took Ming Zhu onto his back, following Lu Qingkong, who had long since grown impatient and walked ahead.
Five years had passed, yet time seemed to have left no mark on Ming Zhu. He was still the same as when Zhou Fuxue first met him—willful and arrogant, with a beauty so seductive it could steal one's soul at any moment.
After Buzhiya had been reduced to ruins, Ming Zhu had stayed at Zhou Fuxue’s Wenxian Ju for several days. However, even after Buzhiya was fully renovated, he found himself unwilling to move back.
The reason was simple: the habitually lazy and messy Ming Zhu had suddenly discovered that while his little junior brother was a bit naggy, he was exceptionally good at taking care of people. Especially during those days when Ming Zhu was bedridden, Zhou Fuxue had practically fed him every meal and handled every chore for him. It was incredibly comfortable and pleasant.
In the end, he shamelessly decided to stay at Wenxian Ju permanently.
Zhou Fuxue was completely unable to withstand his eldest senior brother’s shameless antics, so he had no choice but to prepare a separate room for him. From then on, Ming Zhu enjoyed a life of being waited on hand and foot. The renovated Buzhiya became a mere decoration; he didn't even return there once every half-month.
Oh, it would have been even more pleasant if Zhou Fuxue didn't come to wake him up for morning lessons every day at the hour of the Dragon.
Zhou Fuxue carried Ming Zhu through the vibrant red peach forest. Crimson petals drifted through the air like unextinguished sparks from a raging fire.
"Senior Brother," Zhou Fuxue said suddenly, as if a thought had occurred to him.
Ming Zhu lay listlessly on his back and gave a weak response. "Hmm?"
Zhou Fuxue said seriously, "You’ve gained weight."
Ming Zhu: "..."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
闻弦居 | Wenxian Ju | Zhou Fuxue's residence; literally "Hearing the String Residence."
三千阶 | Three Thousand Steps | The long staircase leading down from Rizhao Mountain.
无心剑 | Wuxin Sword | Zhou Fuxue's sword; literally "Heartless" or "Mindless" Sword.
筑基 | Foundation Establishment | A stage in cultivation.
辰时 | Hour of the Dragon | 7:00 AM – 9:00 AM.
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