There are few people like Song Qianji. Watching him do farm work with such familiarity and fluidity, without a single wasted movement, you'd think he was born to toil in the fields, nurturing life.
But if you've seen him compose music, play chess, or write poetry, you'd feel he possesses an innate elegance, destined to dwell alone on immortal mountains in the Cultivation World as a refined scholar untouched by worldly dust.
It seems whatever he does, he is at ease and content, and excels at it all.
A smile rippled in He Qingqing's eyes.
The Celestial Sound Sect was located in the Southern Sky Continent, its immortal mountains lofty and distant; Thousand-Ditch Prefecture lay in the Western Sky Continent, a remote mortal backwater.
Tens of thousands of miles apart, with the sun and stars shifting across vast landscapes.
She grew increasingly busy, occupied with cultivation and many matters beyond it, making decisions she had never attempted before—ones she wouldn't have dared to imagine.
Power came with heavy responsibilities pressing upon her shoulders, yet she felt no burden, for the sensation of control and command intoxicated and fascinated her.
"I was born to give orders," she thought.
No matter how busy she became, He Qingqing always sent people to gather news from Thousand-Ditch Prefecture.
She knew how many trees were planted here, how many canals were dug, how many carts of silk Song Qianji brought back, and how much seed he purchased.
This was the only corner in her heart that could be considered "light and warm," like a lantern on a rainy night or a stove in a snowy field.
When she finally set foot on the land of Thousand Canals and saw the person she had been thinking of, she felt a nervous apprehension, as if hesitant upon nearing home.
She had considered wearing a white dress again and donning the veil, for her appearance, attire, and demeanor were worlds apart from before. If Song Qianji were to meet her face to face and not recognize her, instead asking, "Where are you from, young lady? Do we know each other?"
Though it wouldn't break her heart, it would at least leave her awkward and disappointed.
Fortunately, Song Qianji did not.
Song Qianji was still the same Song Qianji, whether holding a qin, wielding a sword, grasping a sickle, or swinging a hoe.
Seeing He Qingqing silent, he rolled down his sleeves and spoke first, "Would you like to come inside?"
He Qingqing turned and instructed, "Wait for me outside."
The female cultivators behind her responded in unison.
The people in the fields watched as the two walked away side by side, still dazed and entranced.
"Is that beauty a friend of Senior Brother Song?" Ji Xing patted Zhou Xiaoyun's shoulder.
Zhou Xiaoyun snapped back to reality: "She is Daoist He Qingqing, now the head senior sister of the Celestial Sound Sect."
He Qingqing was famous—for her rise to fame with a performance at the Grand Audience Assembly, for rejecting both Qin Xian and Ziye Wenshu, and for her ghostly, monstrous face.
"So that's He Qingqing," Ji Xing murmured to himself, suddenly curious. "You know her? Her face has actually healed!"
Zhou Xiaoyun said, "I recognized those hands."
As the evening breeze swept past the vermilion gate of Song Courtyard, the veiled woman was entirely wrapped in a white dress, revealing only a pair of slender, jade-like hands, reminiscent of freshly peeled water chestnuts, leaving a deep impression.
Ji Xing sighed, "She's so imposing! What kind of person is she?"
Zhou Xiaoyun shook her head, her gaze hesitant: "It's hard to say. She's very different from before."
There was a time when the Outer Sect of Huawel Sect was bustling with people, everyone coming out to see her, only to scream and scatter at her ugliness as if encountering snakes or scorpions, demons or ghosts.
Today, in Tiancheng of Thousand-Ditch Prefecture, the streets were still emptied as crowds gathered to see the spectacle, but they were left spellbound by her excessive beauty, as if meeting an immortal in a dream.
Demon or immortal, the mortal world is turned upside down. The world's fickleness, shifting from arrogance to deference, all over a single face.
Zhou Xiaoyun sighed, "Back then, I shouldn't have been so afraid of her. After all, Senior Brother Song once uttered a very famous warning.""Which line? 'Harvest grains in autumn, bring in clothes when it rains'?" Ji Xing stood on tiptoe, gazing longingly into the distance.
He Qingqing's fluttering arm veils gradually faded from view. Everyone appreciates beauty, regardless of gender.
"Beauty is but skin deep. What's so wonderful about her?"
"Seriously, sister! That counts as a wise saying? It's not even as good as 'harvest grains in autumn'."
Zhou Xiaoyun's expression turned serious: "If you judge people by appearances, only seeing superficial illusions, you'll never perceive the truth or achieve genuine cultivation."
The people of Thousand Canals all said a true fairy had descended upon Tiancheng.
Her dress was adorned with a hundred flowers, her arm veils woven from clouds and sunset glow, her hair touched with morning dew, and her eyes holding starlight.
The simple, honest folks of Thousand Canals, using their fullest imagination after witnessing Song Xian Guan riding a silver dragon to channel water, vividly described the fairy's descent to the mortal realm.
"Is she Song Xian Guan's wife, no, cultivation partner?" Liu the Carpenter, chosen as the workers' representative, quietly asked Xu Kanshan and Qiu Dacheng for information, satisfying the immense curiosity of Thousand Canals' laborers and farmers.
Xu Kanshan shook his head: "Brother Song doesn't distinguish beauty from plainness, keeps his distance from women, and doesn't take cultivation partners. The Cultivation World's rumors about him being romantic and flirtatious are all slander!"
Qiu Dacheng chuckled: "My guess is, when Brother Song looks at her face, it's like seeing thriving crops in the field - strong roots and sturdy sprouts."
Their acquaintance with Song Qianji began on the night the Discipline Hall interrogated Meng Heze, when they escorted Song Qianji to Cosmos Palace.
Along the way, they encountered Miaoyan and nearly fell off Fleeting Water Bridge from staring, yet saw Song Qianji pass by expressionlessly, as if passing a lamppost.
Today, when He Qingqing descended from the sky, Song Qianji remained composed as ever, further earning Xu and Qiu's admiration.
...
"Have some tea."
He Qingqing held the teacup, looking around Song Courtyard.
Compared to the small courtyard in Huawel Sect's Outer Sect, this place had broader horizons, flowers and plants competing in splendor, and more varieties of vegetables.
Small wooden plaques carved with plant names swayed gently in the wind, producing wind-chime-like pleasant sounds. Flower stands arranged at varying heights showed the owner's meticulous care everywhere.
After the wisteria faded, new flowers bloomed. Vibrant pink crabapples, shy blue morning glories, clusters of delicate light yellow osmanthus.
Those faint fragrances mingled in Song Qianji's sleeves, floating in layered waves like a distant, intricate dream.
He Qingqing took a small sip. The chrysanthemum tea tasted light and slightly bitter. She seemed about to become intoxicated in this dream.
"Senior Brother Song, did you grow these chrysanthemums yourself?"
After asking, she lifted her gaze to see several clusters of white chrysanthemums swaying in the wind, identical to those swirling in her teacup.
As if mocking her for asking obvious questions, for not daring to say what she wanted to say, and thus making small talk instead.
He Qingqing's cheeks flushed slightly.
Earlier, when he heard someone from Celestial Sound Sect had come, his first reaction had been to mention Fairy Miaoyan.
Miaoyan was currently searching everywhere for the composer of "Wind and Snow Array Entry Tune," causing a rift with her master Wangshu.
Outsiders didn't know, but Celestial Sound Sect's higher-ups said she had fallen into an obsession.
Was she looking for Song Qianji? Did Song Qianji want to see her too?
Amidst her chaotic thoughts, her heart hung in suspense until she heard his reply: "I grow my own white chrysanthemums, process them myself, and drink them myself. I don't know if it suits your taste."
His attitude was serious and calm.
He Qingqing drank it all in one gulp, exhaled deeply, and relaxed completely:
"I know that no matter whether I'm good or bad, Senior Brother Song will never laugh at me."
The topic had changed too quickly, leaving Song Qianji somewhat baffled.He could only study He Qingqing, then suddenly let out a soft "Ah."
Like an elderly father slowed by age, only now did he realize:
"Your face—"
He Qingqing froze. The habit of lowering her head and eyes had long been abandoned by her. Subconsciously, she raised her face.
Under the warm autumn sun, the young woman's skin glowed like pristine snow, shimmering with a jade-like luster.
Unlike Miaoyan's gentle, unassuming beauty, her crimson lips and raven hair made her breathtakingly stunning.
The lavish jewels did not overshadow her radiance; instead, they enhanced her brilliance.
Song Qianji examined her face carefully.
He Qingqing's heart suddenly raced.
She had heard too many extravagant praises and had grown somewhat weary and impatient of them.
Even if disciples of the Celestial Sound Sect quoted classics and lavished her with flowery compliments, she would only offer a faint smile.
But even if the praise were identical, if it came from Song Qianji's lips, she would gladly listen to it once, ten times, a hundred times more.
Song Qianji was, of course, different.
An autumn breeze swept through, causing the white chrysanthemums in the courtyard to tremble, and the jade pendants adorning the young woman jingled chaotically.
He Qingqing held her breath, forgetting to blink, feeling as though this moment stretched infinitely, so long that it seemed she would never hear him speak.
In reality, Song Qianji had only looked for a brief instant.
He blinked, his eyes like the calm, gentle waters of a lake under the autumn moon.
Then he spoke softly, "Did it hurt?"
No admiration, no awe—his tone was ordinary as he asked just three words.
He Qingqing's nose tingled with emotion, and her vision suddenly blurred.
Tears she had sworn never to shed again fell uncontrollably.
She wiped them away hastily, shaking her head vehemently, "It didn't hurt! It was worth it!"
Song Qianji sighed, lifting the porcelain teapot to refill her cup with chrysanthemum tea:
"Sometimes, what seems worthwhile now may not always be so."
He Qingqing swallowed her sobs, her voice firm yet hoarse and strained, "I chose this myself! I will make it worth it!"
"Alright, alright, don't cry." Song Qianji patted her shoulder. "Have you eaten? What would you like to eat?"
He Qingqing suddenly covered her face with both hands, unleashing a cry like that of a dying beast.
She wept bitterly.
...
Huawel Sect.
Cosmos Palace on the Main Peak.
Today should have been a day of celebration for the entire sect—
Chen Hongzhu, the beloved daughter of Sect Leader Xu Yun and the young mistress of Huawel Sect, had successfully broken through to the Golden Core realm last night.
The night sky over Huawel Sect had been filled with auspicious clouds, brilliant as brocade.
But Xu Yun's good mood did not last a day. Because of that familiar Seven Treasures ship and the arrival of that young man in white, Meng Heze.
The young sword cultivator had brought a very peculiar gift.
Not a magical artifact, not spirit stones. Many cultivators, born into noble families or sects, had never even seen or recognized it.
The entire Cosmos Palace fell into a heavy silence. Elders and Peak Lords circled the jade table again and again, staring intently at the open gift box.
"What is this?"
"According to that Meng Heze, it's called 'millet'—a mortal food, also known as grain."
The crowd murmured in discussion.
"What does giving millet mean? 'Millet' sounds like 'wither'—as in 'the wind stirs, and crimson petals fall witheringly.' Does it imply decay and decline? Is he cursing us to fall?"
"'Grain' sounds like 'ancient'—is he cursing us to become ancient? What a vicious young man!"
Xu Yun slammed the jade table, causing the millet ears in the box to tremble.
He roared, "Zhao Heren! You explain!"Zhao Ren, drenched in cold sweat, strained to shrink himself behind the cloud-dragon carved pillar. Upon hearing his name called, he trudged forward with a woeful expression, finally stepping into view:
"Reporting to the Sect Master, I believe Song Qianji is merely... merely sending some autumn harvest local specialties. Nothing more, I assure you."
Having been coerced in the well of Song Courtyard, he'd been forced to swear a poisonous oath upon his Dao heart. How could he dare speak the truth after returning to the sect?
He could only exhaust all efforts to conceal the truth, insisting that everything in Thousand-Ditch Prefecture was normal.
Thousand Canals was a barren, insignificant place—its Spirit Qi and luck repeatedly plundered until nearly depleted.
Song Qianji was a minor cultivator disliked by Huawel Sect. Unless necessary, no one wanted to mention him.
"Colluding with Song" was a grave offense.
That day, hearing Zhao Ren's personal account, Huawel Sect's members naturally felt reassured, waiting only for the quagmire of Thousand-Ditch Prefecture to drag Song Qianji down.
Yet spring turned to autumn, and the shadow named "Song Qianji" once again loomed overhead, enveloping the entire Huawel Mountain.
Someone cursed: "Sending local specialties? Since when does he have such good intentions? This Song Qianji truly haunts us like a vengeful ghost!"
"Ha! He resents us for giving him barren Thousand Canals and sending mortal commoners' goods to protest!"
"A mere Qi Refining cultivator, relying only on the Sage's backing, dares to slap Huawel Sect's face!"
Xu Yun's stern gaze shifted away from Zhao Ren's face.
Zhao Ren sighed in relief, inwardly lamenting his misery.
Then Xu Yun spoke: "When we gave him Thousand-Ditch Prefecture, the enmity was already sealed. It was only a matter of time before it came to a resolution. Peak Lord Zhao, this matter originated from your Zhao lineage. What do you have to say?"
Zhao Taiji straightened his sleeves and picked up a grain ear to examine: "The Patriarch will emerge from seclusion soon. I will report this matter to him."
"Good!" Xu Yun took a deep breath and said gravely, "Peak Lord Zhao and Hongzhu will remain. The rest of you may leave."
The crowd bowed and withdrew, filing out in succession. Zhao Ren fled fastest, vanishing in a flash.
The great hall instantly held only three people, empty and silent.
Zhao Taiji smiled: "Song Qianji is the sect's enemy. He'll spare no one. Shouldn't the sect lend me its assistance?"
"I have my own arrangements," Xu Yun said indifferently.
Xu Yun turned to his daughter, his gaze becoming affectionate and gentle.
While others were indignant, Chen Hongzhu had remained silent throughout.
Since the Grand Audience Assembly concluded, she had spoken less and less. The whip at her waist had been put away, unused for a long time.
But in her father's eyes, this was a sign of his daughter growing up—becoming more obedient and sensible.
"Hongzhu, what are your thoughts?" he asked.
Chen Hongzhu replied expressionlessly: "Without Huawel Sect, there would be no me. Your daughter understands what's at stake."
"Good! That's my daughter." Xu Yun said with satisfaction, "When you were born, I invited Divine Monk Wuxiang to divine your fate. We found a suitable Dao companion from a good family and arranged an excellent marriage alliance. Now that you've broken through to Golden Core, it's time to formally meet the other party..."
Chen Hongzhu showed slight surprise, her brows faintly furrowing.
Among the great clans of the Cultivation World, relationships were intricately intertwined. Using marriage alliances and accepting disciples to bind interests was commonplace.
She asked calmly, "Which family's disciple?"
"The Wei family's direct-line young master, the most talented of his generation—Wei Zhenyu!"
Xu Yun coughed lightly, "But that Wei Zhenyu left home to travel far years ago and vanished without a trace. Whether he's alive or dead now is unknown. Everyone long ago stopped mentioning his name, so it's normal you haven't heard of him.""A few days ago, I discussed with the Wei Clan's Ancestor and changed the candidate to the third young master, Wei Zhanyang. Wei Zhanyang is currently cultivating the path of talismans at Azure Cliff Academy and has gained considerable fame in recent years. You've seen him before at the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals—he cuts a fine figure. Do you remember the poem he inscribed on the cliffside by our Huawel Sect's Colored Stone Creek? 'I must ascend the mountain's crest, It dwarfs all peaks under my feet.' In terms of cultivation and lineage, he is..."
Xu Yun knew his daughter's fiery temperament and domineering nature all too well, so he patiently explained, hoping to appeal to her emotions first.
"I understand." Chen Hongzhu interrupted, hastily bowing. "I've only recently broken through, and my realm is still unstable. I shall take my leave to enter seclusion."
In the Cultivation World, the period from engagement to formal union could be long indeed. If one truly wished to delay, it could be dragged out for ten or even a hundred years.
Xu Yun was left speechless.
Zhao Taiji watched Chen Hongzhu's retreating figure as she exited the hall and stepped onto Fleeting Water Bridge, suddenly sneering, "You want to borrow a knife to kill, and then drag the Wei Clan down with you?"
"Behind Song Qianji stands not only the Calligrapher Sage and the Chess Devil, but also another person."
Xu Yun pointed toward the hall's ceiling, swallowing the name that could not be spoken aloud.
Xian Jianchen. Few in the Cultivation World knew that Song Qianji also shared a secret connection with Xian Jianchen.
"Not only must we borrow a knife, but we must borrow a hidden blade that shows no edge."
Song Qianji was now in Thousand Canals, possessing only empty fame and a group of outer sect disciples, with no senior experts to protect or support him.
In the mortal world, arranging an assassination to kill a Qi Refining Stage cultivator, then erasing all traces and clearing oneself of involvement—how difficult could it be?
Surely it couldn't be harder than growing grain in the wilderness or waiting for heavy rain on a drought-stricken mountain.
Zhao Taiji pressed firmly with his fingertips, crushing a plump grain. Unlike the self-deceiving members of the Huawel Sect, he had been keeping a close watch on Song Qianji all along.
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