"Stewardess, is the Fox Immortal Lord still angry with me?"
On a spring afternoon, Xin Mei sat in the purple bamboo pavilion surrounded by fragrant flowers, eating rice noodles while asking the stewardess beside her.
The stewardess remained composed: "Rest assured, Boss Xin. The Valley Master isn't the petty type of immortal."
"Oh? Then why is he dressed like that today? And why does he keep glaring at me?"
Xin Mei looked up at the Fox Immortal Lord fishing by the opposite riverbank. He was clad in a very masculine suit of armor with a long sword at his waist. Every incense stick's worth of time, he would stand up and pace a square route in front of her, occasionally unsheathing his sword to slash at dead branches or grass. Whenever she glanced his way, he'd shoot her a fierce, icy glare before calmly returning to his fishing.
Come to think of it, yesterday when she was helping the new disciples train spirit beasts, he had similarly wandered around like this—though yesterday he'd worn a knight's cloak with one eye covered by black cloth, pretending to be a one-eyed pirate. And the day before that, he'd dressed as a celestial master...
"He has those special days every month. You'll get used to it."
Those who served immortals daily were truly different—how could they remain so unperturbed? Xin Mei nodded admiringly and continued eating her noodles.
"Eh? Why is this little girl still here?" A raised voice outside the pavilion asked with particular rudeness.
Turning around, Xin Mei saw the immortal named Meishan walking over with an armful of brightly colored spirit flowers and herbs, giving her an unfriendly glance. That look contained complex emotions—embarrassment, loss of face, anger, annoyance, and feigned superiority—all things ordinary people rarely displayed simultaneously.
"Spirit beasts aren't like talisman paper that can be used the next day after delivery. They need to be tamed. Those new disciples are all thumbs, so I asked her to stay and help," Zhen Hongsheng explained, tossing all the fish he'd caught back into the river.
Seeing Meishan enter the pavilion, Xin Mei stood and bowed: "Greetings, Lord Meishan."
Meishan responded with a cold "Hmph." The sight of her irritated him, always reminding him of his recent loss of face. For immortals, face was more important than heaven itself—he truly wished she would disappear to the ends of the earth and never appear again.
A breeze carried over the strong scent of alcohol from him. Between bites of noodles, Xin Mei said, "Lord Meishan, excessive drinking harms the body. You're so thin and frail, like the bamboo poles in my backyard for hanging laundry. You should eat more."
Meishan pressed a hand to his forehead, forcing back the veins bulging there. He refused to hear any words like "thin," "weak," "frail," or "bamboo pole"—yet she'd managed to hit every single one in one sentence. He looked down at his hands, considering whether to strangle her.
"G-Greetings, Valley Master... Lord Meishan... Boss Xin..."
A timid voice came from outside the pavilion. Xin Mei looked up and brightened, quickly finishing her noodles before skipping out with a smile: "Da Huge, what's the matter?"
Zhang Dahu blushed shyly, his voice mosquito-like: "I just came to ask Boss Xin for advice on training spirit beasts... That spirit monkey refuses to eat and scratches me whenever I get close..."
"Oh, no problem. I'll take a look," Xin Mei said, ready to leave immediately.
Behind her, Zhen Hongsheng coughed pointedly and glared coldly: "Disciples shouldn't see guests off."Xin Mei sighed. Fine, if they wouldn't give him to her, then so be it. What a shame to lose such a good husband.
Watching the two figures retreat into the distance, a thoroughly confused Meishan asked, "Give what?"
Zhen Hongsheng hooked a koi fish, his residual anger still simmering. "The little girl has taken a fancy to the gatekeeper Zhang Dahu, calling him a peerless handsome man."
Truth be told, he was deeply resentful of Xin Mei's distorted aesthetic sense—utterly incapable of distinguishing beauty from ugliness. How could Zhang Dahu's plank-like face be considered peerlessly handsome? Someone as dashing and elegant as himself had actually been compared to a woman!
Meishan recalled the gatekeeper who had come earlier—a face as square and rigid as a wooden plank, standing straight like a door panel. Ah yes, a peerless handsome man...
He clutched his stomach, rolling on the ground with laughter.
Xin Mei stayed in Esteemed Spirit Valley for half a month straight. Then, as expected, one morning a lark fluttered down before her.
It was a tiny spirit beast specially used by their Sinister Clan to deliver messages.
A note was tied to the lark's leg, her father having hastily scribbled a line: How goes the husband hunt? You'll be sixteen in just over a month—you must marry before then!
The last five characters were written in cinnabar, glaringly red and startling to behold.
Xin Mei realized she had indeed been slacking lately. Pampered by Esteemed Spirit Valley's fine food and drink, admiring its green mountains and clear waters, she had completely forgotten this most crucial matter. Filled with remorse, she returned to her room to pack her things and went to bid farewell to Zhen Hongsheng that very day.
The petty Fox Immortal Lord seemed to still be holding a grudge over the incident half a month prior. He merely said, "Send someone to inform Zhang Dahu—he's not to guard the gate today. Have him stay in his room to avoid being constantly coveted."
Xin Mei looked up at him, noting how he wore a sword at his waist at all times to emphasize his masculinity, never forgetting his breastplate either, draped with a black velvet cloak as if ready to charge into battle at any moment.
After some thought, she said, "Fox Immortal Lord, today's attire is truly heroic."
Zhen Hongsheng instantly brightened, beaming with delight. "At last, you've developed some taste! Excellent, excellent!"
She added, "You look just like General Peng Rong in the paintings—valiant and heroic."
General Peng Rong was a legendary, invincibly brave figure from Qiong Country's ancient tales. Of course, the most crucial detail—she was a female general.
Zhen Hongsheng ran off in tears.
Xin Mei's mood improved considerably as she hoisted her bundle and took to the skies with Qiu Yue. No matter—along the journey back, there were many towns large and small. Husbands were clearly something best sought where mortals gathered. Immortals were all petty and unreliable.
While spring sunshine filled Esteemed Spirit Valley, outside its borders, rain fell in a steady drizzle. Having forgotten her water-repelling talisman, flying on Qiu Yue's back in this weather would be asking for misery. Spotting a dense forest ahead, she quickly signaled Qiu Yue to land atop the trees, then folded it back into talisman paper and tucked it into her robes.
With nightfall approaching, reaching a town today seemed unlikely—she'd have to camp in the wild.
She leapt down from the treetop, landing lightly on the ground—only to splash squarely into a puddle of muddy water, splattering half her body with a wet slap.
Xin Mei patted her clothes indifferently. This was one of her virtues—unlike most girls, she wasn't overly fastidious about cleanliness. If their clan's head senior sister got mud splashed on her, she'd probably faint. She couldn't tolerate even a speck of dust on her hemline, shrieking at the slightest blemish.Taking off her outer robe, she found a dry spot under a tree to hang it on a branch to dry. She was about to remove her undergarments to dry them too when she suddenly sensed something amiss behind her.
Turning around, she saw a man standing beneath the opposite tree, holding a wooden sword and a small knife, with wood shavings scattered all around his feet.
Xin Mei froze.
The man didn’t avert his gaze in the slightest, staring straight at her as if she were a wooden puppet.
And then…
His face and clothes seemed completely splattered with the mud she had just flung—it was even dripping down the bridge of his nose.
Xin Mei mechanically turned back, grabbed the clothes from the branch, put them on, then took out a handkerchief and walked over to hand it to him.
"...Sorry, I didn’t mean to."
A very sincere apology.
The man glanced at her, then at the handkerchief, but said nothing and didn’t take it. Instead, he wiped his face with his sleeve and went back to carving the wooden sword.
How pitiful—was he a deaf and mute handsome man?
Xin Mei studied him for a moment, but the more she looked… the more familiar he seemed. Had she seen him somewhere before? Though his head was lowered, his distinctively deep yet gentle features were unlike most Qiong people, and he stood a head taller than the average man.
Occasionally, he would raise the wooden sword to eye level, running his fingers along it as if gauging its suitability. At these moments, she could clearly see his refined brows and eyes, his expression carrying a trace of aloof pride. Though he held an unfinished wooden sword, he himself resembled a peerless blade about to be unsheathed, exuding a beauty as sharp and dazzling as cold steel.
Hmm… the more she looked, the more familiar he seemed.
The wooden sword was soon finished. The man brushed off the moisture from its surface and suddenly spoke: "Don’t stay here tonight. It’s dangerous."
His voice was cool and exceptionally pleasant.
Xin Mei’s jaw dropped. This man… this man—wasn’t he the one who had slapped her awake that night at the Imperial Mausoleum?!
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