“Alright, alright, alright.” A teasing glint flickered in Jiang Yu’s eyes as she smiled. “Our junior brother really knows how to take care of people.”
Jiang Yu was the eldest disciple of Liushuang, the master of Liuli Peak. She’d joined the sect a few years earlier than Chu Xinglan, and in a way, she’d practically watched him grow up. This junior brother of hers had always been quiet and distant, never one for getting close to others.
While the other disciples would sneak off to town when they had a break from cultivation—some even daring to skip lessons altogether—he alone could endure the loneliness, spending day after day, year after year, training with his sword in the back mountains.
It was said the cliff walls there were covered in sword marks he’d left behind—from the shallow, clumsy lines of his early days to the deep, confident cuts of now, each scar still brimming with lingering sword intent. The effort and hardship behind those marks… probably only he knew.
A young man in white, sword in hand—even if he did nothing but stand there—was already worthy of every flattering word the world could conjure. His face was too deceptive, too dangerously alluring. Even though everyone knew his heart was cold as ice and his whole aura screamed ‘stay away,’ there were still countless girls willing to throw themselves at him, trying to pluck this famously untouchable flower atop the highest peak. And the results… well, better not talk about those.
Jiang Yu had always thought this junior brother of hers was born without a trace of romantic feeling—destined to stay single his whole life. But who’d have guessed? The moment he finally acted, he went big. Didn’t he just… casually bring his fiancée home to the sect?
With a faint smile tugging at her lips, Jiang Yu glanced at the young lady standing behind Chu Xinglan. Even though she’d met plenty of famously beautiful women in the upper realm, her first glance still caught her off guard. Her first thought: Beautiful. …How can someone be this beautiful?
Even with her young age, her features not fully matured, and a hint of innocence lingering in her gaze—she was still undeniably, eye-catchingly stunning.
Jiang Yu came back to her senses and nudged Chu Xinglan with her elbow, a touch of jealousy in her voice, “You lucky brat.”
Chu Xinglan’s expression didn’t even flicker as he calmly replied, “Thanks for the compliment, Senior Sister.”
……
Inside Guiyuan Sect. Chu Xinglan and Ruan Zhao walked side by side. Everyone they passed wore the exact same look of shock. Even after they’d walked far ahead, people kept turning their heads to stare after them.
Under the weight of so many curious stares, Ruan Zhao’s steps grew awkward, nearly tripping over his own feet, his cheeks burning with heat.
Noticing his discomfort, Chu Xinglan frowned, shooting a cold look at the junior disciples trailing behind them. “At a time like this, shouldn’t you all be cultivating? What are you following us for? The sect competition is just a few months away, and yet here you are, wandering around without a care. Do you have no sense of urgency at all?”
The group of juniors hadn’t expected to get caught, and they instantly panicked. When Chu Xinglan mentioned the sect competition, it was like a teacher suddenly announcing an upcoming final exam. Their faces instantly fell, looking utterly miserable.
“Hi, Senior Brother Chu! Bye, Senior Brother Chu!”
“Congratulations on your marriage, Senior Brother Chu! Wishing you both a hundred years of happiness!”
“Hey—! Why’d you say that out loud?!” Only then did the young junior sister realize what she’d blurted out. She clapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed, whispering anxiously, “What do we do?”
Someone hurriedly suggested, “Let’s run for it while Senior Brother isn’t looking!”
Even though they tried to whisper, the distance wasn’t far—Chu Xinglan heard every word. His gaze grew colder.
The group forced a few nervous laughs and quickly switched topics. “We’ll go cultivate right now! Gotta get ready for the sect competition—we won’t let the sect down!” With that, they scattered like frightened birds, afraid that if they delayed even a second longer, Chu Xinglan’s sword would come flying out of its sheath.
Finally, the courtyard quieted down. Chu Xinglan’s expression softened as he turned to Ruan Zhao. “Don’t be afraid, Zhaozhao. They’re just… curious. And a bit too… lively. They didn’t mean any harm.”
Ruan Zhao touched his burning cheeks, still flustered. “Why does it feel like… everyone in your sect already knows about us?”
Chu Xinglan looked a little guilty. “It must’ve been my master who let it slip. I only told him. No one else.”
Ruan Zhao shot him a glare, clearly unhappy. “I don’t care who said it. What matters is, I’m not some monkey for everyone to gawk at. You’d better sort this out—quickly.”
Chu Xinglan naturally agreed, nodding eagerly as he made one promise after another. “Don’t be mad, Zhaozhao.” The same young man who’d been cold and sharp with his fellow disciples now instinctively softened his tone, speaking with a hint of coaxing warmth when facing Ruan Zhao. “I’ll take you to see my place—it’s close by.”
Ruan Zhao stared at him for a while, face still cool, but eventually gave in with a soft, reluctant, “…Alright.”
Chu Xinglan’s residence was at Ruyun Peak. As the name suggested, its summit rose high into the clouds.
“That’s the Liuyun Waterfall,” Chu Xinglan pointed toward a cascade of rushing water tumbling from above, explaining, “It flows down from a spring at the mountain’s peak. There are silver fish in the spring too—when night falls, they glow like moonlight in the water. You’ll like them when you see them.”
But Ruan Zhao wasn’t interested in how pretty they were. He asked, “Can you eat them?”
Chu Xinglan was silent for a moment. “…Some of them have developed spiritual awareness. But if you want to eat one, I’ll catch it for you.” And so, the two of them reached an agreement—about eating fish.
As they made their way to the summit, what greeted them was a dazzling sea of peach blossoms. It was the height of the blooming season. A soft breeze stirred the branches, sending pink petals fluttering down like dancing butterflies—a scene so beautiful it felt unreal. Ruan Zhao reached out his hand and caught one of the delicate petals.
Chu Xinglan was a little surprised. “The peach trees are blooming already? When I left, there weren’t even buds yet.”
“These are peach blossoms?” Ruan Zhao blinked, “I’ve never seen peach blossoms before.”
Lingyuan City had a dry, cold climate with a very short summer—not a place where peach trees could thrive. So in all his years growing up, Ruan Zhao had never once seen peach blossoms.
The petal in Ruan Zhao’s palm was soft, so delicate it felt like even the slightest pressure would crush it. “Will these peach trees grow peaches?”
Compared to pretty, impractical flowers, it was obvious that sweet, juicy peaches were far more appealing to Ruan Zhao.
Chu Xinglan replied, “These are ornamental trees—the fruit they bear isn’t edible. But if you like, we could plant a few proper peach trees.”
Ruan Zhao, however, immediately pictured the digging, watering, pruning, pest control, and drought care that came with planting trees—and suddenly the idea didn’t seem so enticing. His passion for big, ripe peaches cooled considerably.
Chu Xinglan knew him too well. One look at his disinterested expression, and he could guess exactly what Ruan Zhao was thinking. Rubbing his hair with a fond smile, Chu Xinglan said, “I’ll plant the trees. I’ll do the work. You just stand by and watch.”
Hearing that he wouldn’t have to lift a finger, Ruan Zhao perked up again. “Then I’ll stand next to you, hand you tools, and cheer you on.” Problem solved.
Chu Xinglan led Ruan Zhao to his residence. He poured a cup of tea, then took out a box of snacks from his storage ring, placing it on the table. “You stay here for a bit—I need to go see my master. I’ll be back soon.”
Though things in their sect were fairly relaxed, certain formalities couldn’t be skipped. Whenever a disciple returned from a trip, the first thing they were expected to do was greet their master.
Ruan Zhao nodded. “Alright.” Looking around, he noticed a pile of wooden boxes under Chu Xinglan’s bed, and shelves lined with jade slips. “Can I look around your room a bit?”
“Of course.”
Ruan Zhao pointed to the stack of obvious boxes. “Can I open those too?”
Chu Xinglan’s gaze shifted. “There’s nothing special in them. Just the letters you sent me over the years. If you want to read them, go ahead.” He bent down, picked one of the boxes at random, dissolved the protective seal on it, and handed it to Ruan Zhao.
It was clear how much these things meant to him. His fingers brushed lightly over the box’s surface, his eyes filled with tenderness and fondness. “Be careful when you open it, alright? The paper’s gotten brittle with age—if you’re not gentle, it’ll wrinkle or tear.”
Ruan Zhao took the box and nodded. “I will.”
Chu Xinglan glanced back three times with every step as he left. “I’m going now.”
Ruan Zhao waved him off. “Go on, go on—the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back.”
After Chu Xinglan left, the room grew noticeably quiet. Outside the window, only the crisp chirping of birds in the treetops could be heard. The vast mountaintop of Ruyun Peak suddenly felt like it was his alone.
The scenery here was beautiful, but the stillness carried a certain chill. The moment someone left, a faint, unavoidable loneliness crept in.
Ruan Zhao sat in a chair, staring into space for a while. Bored out of his mind, he eventually gave in and opened the box. Just as expected—it was filled with his old letters.
On each envelope, the date was written in flowing, elegant handwriting. Year 18 of Tianji. This entire box was filled with letters he’d sent to Chu Xinglan four years ago.
Four years… It felt like a lifetime ago. He couldn’t remember what he’d even written back then. Curious, he pulled out one dated late June of the 18th year of Tianji. Careful to follow Chu Xinglan’s instructions, he gently opened the envelope and took out the slightly yellowed letter inside.
To Chu Xinglan:
How have you been, brother? Eating well? Sleeping soundly? How’s your cultivation going? The sect competition’s coming up soon. You’re so amazing—I’m sure you’ll come out on top. (Though, even if you don’t, it’s fine. In my heart, you’ll always be the best.)
Don’t throw away the yellow talisman paper inside this envelope—I got it myself from Xiangguo Temple. The monks there told me the more incense money you donate, the more powerful the charm becomes, and that it can make any wish come true. But honestly, I think they’re just trying to swindle me. If paper like this could really make wishes come true, no one would ever have to work hard again, right?
But then I thought — what if? What if it actually works? So in a moment of weakness, I spent all my pocket money on it.
There was a tiny scribble after this sentence. Ruan Zhao squinted, trying to make out the words.
Silly Zhaozhao, actually believing something like this. Next time I should give him a few more spirit stones… maybe even that spirit vein I snatched in the secret realm.
A soft ache bloomed in the tenderest corner of his heart. Ruan Zhao carefully folded the letter back up and opened another.
Today I went to the market and bought a really pretty little rabbit lantern—it looks exactly like the one you gave me before! It’s a perfect match. Such a shame you’re not here to see it.
Another note followed.
Can’t believe after all this time, Zhaozhao still remembers… There are plenty of beautifully crafted lanterns here in the upper realm too. I should gather some for him next time.
……
The fifteenth of the seventh month—Ghost Festival. Everyone at home said it’s the day the gates of the underworld open. After dusk, no one dares to go out, afraid of running into ghosts. They lit candles and told all kinds of scary ghost stories. I hated it… I had nightmares all night and barely slept! Brother, do you think ghosts really exist in this world?
And another note.
I heard Wuliang Sect is offering commissions at every sect for spirit plaques that ward off ghosts and spirits. Pretty useless, but better than nothing.
……
Ruan Zhao read through several more letters in a row, his heart an unsettled, complicated mess. It felt like someone had tossed a stone into the still waters of his heart, sending out ripples, one after another.
In almost every letter, Chu Xinglan had written notes like this—replying to him across time and distance, or maybe just quietly recording his own thoughts.
To Ruan Zhao, it had just been a handful of casual stories, things he’d mentioned in passing. But Chu Xinglan had held onto every word, quietly remembering them, thinking of what he could give him next time.
So this is what it feels like… Ruan Zhao pressed a hand against his chest, a little dazed. To be cared for. To be remembered.
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