Liu Wanyin and Shu Yanlin didn’t hasten their approach at Song Jiayi’s greeting. They continued to glide sedately towards them, finally stopping in front of the dead frog.

Heng Xiaowen opened ‘Character List.’

[Character List:

Liu Wanyin - Swordmaster of Zhai Xing Peak

Tao Ruzhu - Disciple of Zhai Xing Peak

Shu Yanlin - Disciple of Zhai Xing Peak]

Liu Wanyin returned Song Jiayi’s smile.

The temperature plunged twenty degrees.

“So,” Song Jiayi began. “What is it that brings the great Weifeng-zun down the mountain? This little frog doesn’t seem like it would warrant your attention.”

“Apparently it’s organs have some interesting magical properties. My disciple took an interest in it.”

Shu Yanlin grimaced.

Liu Wanyin looked down at the frog and then at Heng Xiaowen. Her cold gaze lingered on him, just for a second. It made his skin crawl. Then she continued to scan the group, finally landing on Ling Hong. “Ah, I see Liqiu Hua Sect has expanded once again. Where did you find this one, Sect Leader Song?”

Ling Hong shrank under Liu Wanyin’s gaze, staring up at her with wide eyes.

Song Jiayi’s smile didn’t falter. “I found him under a rock, of course.” She circled back to the boy and patted him on the head. “I forgot you haven’t met my newest disciple, Ling Hong. I accepted him a little less than a year ago. Our humble sect grows stronger by the day.”

“Under Sect Leader Song’s wise leadership, how could it do anything else? I’m sure it won’t be long until Liqiu Hua Sect rises high in the cultivation world.”

“Weifeng-zun praises me too highly,” Song Jiayi said. “My only aspiration is to raise my disciples well and pass my sect’s teachings to the next generation.”

Heng Xiaowen didn’t know who this woman was, or what history she had with his master, but he had never seen Song Jiayi so bright, and strange, and hostile.

He looked out of the corner of his eye to gauge everyone else’s reaction to the situation.

Tao Ruzhu seemed entirely unfazed: He was still expressionless, staring into the middle distance. However, he seemed to be alone in this reaction.

Shu Yanlin was smiling nervously and glancing back and forth between her master and Song Jiayi. Ling Hong remained frozen like a prey animal. Yang Jingfei was scowling at Liu Wanyin, and Lu Xiuying wore the aggrieved look of someone who had seen this many times before and was counting the seconds until it ended.

If Heng Xiaowen hadn’t spent the past two weeks and change in the constant company of Qiu Jucheng, he wouldn’t think much of his response. He was standing very properly, with a straight back and his hands folded neatly, but his head was tilted away, refusing to even look at Liu Wanyin. His expression was slightly pinched in a way Heng Xiaowen hadn’t seen before. It was borderline petulant relative to his typical cool and collected demeanor.

“Well!” Song Jiayi clapped her hands. “It’s late. I should really be seeing my disciples to bed. A pleasure to see you as always.”

Song Jiayi bowed and stepped back to leave, but Liu Wanyin raised a hand. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

Liu Wanyin gestured to the frog. “I would be remiss not to apologize for our rudeness in interfering in your night hunt.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Safe travels to Zhai Xing Peak.”

Liu Wanyin didn’t drop the issue. “No, it was our mistake. I would be happy to compensate you for the frog—how many of your disciples are you entering in the tournament this year? This will be the first time they are participating, yes?”

Song Jiayi’s smile fractured briefly, then reformed wider and more more menacing. “We appreciate the offer, but we’re just fine.”

Liu Wanyin tilted her head to the side. “What? Can’t I do a favor for an old friend? It’s really no trouble.”

Song Jiayi’s smile finally dropped.

Heng Xiaowen could hear a slowly building rumbling from beneath him.The ground started to tremble. Lu Xiuying squeaked and latched onto his arm. Then, Liu Wanyin—while seemingly standing still—flew backwards and slammed hard against a tree, splitting the wood with a jarring crack.

“Fuck you, Liu Wanyin.” Song Jiayi spat. “We’re leaving.”

Heng Xiaowen wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just witnessed. It had happened fast, like the ground had become a conveyor belt with the capacity for malice.

Qiu Jucheng followed Song Jiayi without a second glance, leaving all the disciples to exchange alarmed glances before rushing after their respective masters.

As they moved through the forest back to camp, Heng Xiaowen thought he could just barely hear someone laughing in the distance behind him.

—

By the time they were back at camp, Song Jiayi had had enough time to cool down and seem vaguely embarrassed by her outburst.

“Okay,” she said, massaging the back of her neck. “Your shishu and I are going to take a walk, you should all go to bed. We’ll figure out what to do next in the morning. No one die before we get back.”

Qiu Jucheng handed Heng Xiaowen one of his pouches. “The stove is in here if you want to heat some water to wash up.”

Heng Xiaowen nodded and took it. He and his juniors watched Song Jiayi and Qiu Jucheng disappear into the forest in silence.

After almost an entire minute had passed, Ling Hong spoke up. “Why do Shizun and Weifeng-zun hate each other?” he asked in a strangled whisper. “Is Liqiu Hua Sect enemies with Zhai Xing Peak? How could that even happen?”

“Oh, right, Xiao-shidi hasn’t met Weifeng-zun yet,” Lu Xiuying said. “Don’t worry, we don’t have any enmity with Zhai Xing Peak.”

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

“Speak for yourself,” Yang Jingfei interjected. “I think they’re a bunch of snooty bookworms.”

Lu Xiuying rolled her eyes and ignored her. “Shizun and Weifeng-zun have a bad relationship is all. Shishu doesn’t get along with her either.”

Ling Hong did not look particularly reassured. “Weifeng-zun is a famous swordswoman from a great sect, why would she have this kind of relationship with nobodies like us?”

“Da-shixiong, do you want to explain?” Lu Xiuying asked. “You’ve been here the longest.”

Heng Xiaowen shook his head. He absolutely could not do that. “Junior sister should go ahead.”

“Okay,” Lu Xiuying carried on. “Shizun explained to you that Liqiu Hua Sect used to be much larger, yes?”

Ling Hong nodded.

“It was never as prominent as a sect like Zhai Xing Peak or Denglong Palace, but it was respectable. When the demon attack happened, most of the members didn’t survive and most who did left the immortal path to live mortal lives. The only surviving members of Liqiu Hua Sect that remained in the world of cultivation were Shizun, Shishu, and Weifeng-zun.”

Ling Hong’s brows shot up. “Weifeng-zun was a member of Liqiu Hua Sect?”

“En,” Liu Xiuying said. “After the attack, she was accepted as a guest cultivator at Zhai Xing Peak, and Shizun and Shishu parted ways with her to revive Liqiu Hua Sect. Weifeng-zun didn’t become well known until after she had lived at Zhai Xing Peak for some time, and by that time Liqiu Hua Sect had faded into obscurity, so most people don’t know this.”

Heng Xiaowen didn’t know what to do with his face. He knew that this wasn’t supposed to be new information to him. He did what he could to appear… Thoughtful? Engaged? Subtly mournful?

“Oh.” Ling Hong looked contemplative for a moment. “Does that make Weifeng-zun our… Shibo? Shishu?”

“Shibo, but I wouldn’t call her that unless you want Shizun to make you run laps up and down a mountain.”

[Translator’s note: omg drama~~~ anyway clarifying for readers that shishu means junior martial uncle aka the junior martial siblings of your master and shibo means senior martial uncle, so the senior martial sibling of your master ^_^ even though the words mean uncle, people use them to refer to martial aunts as well!!

i should probably sit down and make a list of all the kinship terms and stuff but right now im just trying to stay on top of updating consistently ( ╥ω╥ ) hope all my readers had a nice LNY and ate something yummy!! my grandma made tangyuan (っ˘ڡ˘ς) ]

Huh. The Fan-Translation Matrix shared random personal anecdotes. And ate tangyuan?

System, is the Fan-Translation Matrix a real person?

[System: The ‘Fan Translation-Matrix’ is an artificial intelligence derived from the original fan-translator of Luoshui Gougu, translator ‘vivichu’. Behaviors resembling a living person are a product of the content patterns in the original translation notes.]

Heng Xiaowen supposed that made about as much sense as everything else related to his current predicament.

“—Da-shixiong, did you hear me?” Lu Xiuying asked.

“Oh.” Heng Xiaowen refocused his eyes. “Sorry, I was distracted. What were you saying?”

“I said that we should wash up and go to bed.”

Considering that the frog mucus had started to dry and get crusty, Heng Xiaowen couldn’t agree more.

He didn’t often miss his first life, but he did miss hot showers. He really did.

Then again, last year his hot water had gone out for the entire month of November. It had taken countless strongly worded emails referencing city ordinances, phone calls, and official complaints before his slumlord of a property management company finally had it fixed. Not that he was ever compensated for the bill he paid that month, but he had run out of energy by then to pick a fight over it.

At least here, he never had to grovel for weeks just to boil a pot of water on their little clay stove.

After giving himself a bird bath with a ladle and combing as much of the gunk out of his hair as he could, he changed into his only other set of under clothes and set aside the slime encrusted garments to wash in the morning.

He had a lot on his mind when he laid down to sleep that night. He could tell that Song Jiayi cared more about the tournament than she let on. It wasn’t hard for him to recognize someone afraid of getting their hopes up. What he hadn’t realized was that this would be the first time anyone from her sect had participated in the tournament since a tragedy had killed almost everyone she knew.

He didn’t sleep well.

—

Heng Xiaowen woke up earlier than normal the next morning. It was pitch black inside the tent, but he could hear a few birds singing. Ling Hong was still fast asleep and Qiu Jucheng had either woken up even earlier than he had or still hadn’t returned from his walk. Heng Xiaowen fumbled around for his hair tie and sword and quietly crawled from the tent to practice the sword forms Song Jiayi had been teaching him.

If he was being honest with himself, he did not want to rise and grind. What he wanted was to take it easy this life. If all of his juniors were better cultivators than him, and fancy people from other sects looked down their nose at him, it really wouldn’t bother him. The siren song of fame and glory was easily drowned out by the dulcet tones of indolence.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Lu Xiuying had said about Liqiu Hua Sect. They had been pinning their hopes on Heng Xiaowen for who knows how long.

He moved through the first sword form, certain he wasn’t doing it right.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be dutiful. Maybe this was a noble instinct to fulfill the dreams of the people that took care of him. Maybe this is what it felt like to want to work hard and make the people you care about proud.

The first form flowed into the second.

Mostly it felt selfish.

He felt like a cuckoo egg.

He had never been a full blown birder in his first life—he could never handle the early mornings and work already demanded more energy than he had—but he liked scrolling through eBird in his freetime.

It was enough that he knew that many species of cuckoo were brood parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds’ nests, letting another species spend its time, energy and resources raising its’ chick to adulthood. Various host species have evolved adaptions to recognize and reject cuckoo eggs, and cuckoos have evolved better ways to hide their eggs in turn.

Heng Xiaowen retreated and crouched, starting the third sword form.

He didn’t want to get rolled out of the nest.

He had run through all the sword forms he could remember about five times when he heard a rustling from up ahead.

“Move your right foot back a cun,” Song Jiayi called, emerging from the forest with Qiu Jucheng at her heels.

Heng Xiaowen startled and shifted his foot back.

Song Jiayi circled around him, looking him up and down. “Now open your chest more.”

He pulled back his shoulders.

“Good. Now, when you breathe in, you should feel your qi flow through your body and extend into your sword. Your sword should be an extension of yourself, no different from your own hand.”

Heng Xiaowen inhaled. He certainly hoped his qi went into his sword.

“It’s improving. You’re still not breathing properly.”

Heng Xiaowen groaned and slumped forward.

“Sit down, I want to check something.”

Heng Xiaowen sat and Song Jiayi crouched down behind him and put a hand on his back.

“Breathe in,” she said.

He breathed in.

“Breathe out.”

He breathed out.

Song Jiayi clicked her tongue. “That’s what I thought. Okay. Again.”

Heng Xiaowen inhaled, and this time, warmth suffused his body, radiating from Song Jiayi’s hand. It traveled along his spine up to his head and down his limbs.

Heng Xiaowen exhaled and mid breath he choked. Quickly, Song Jiayi bent him forward and gave him a firm thump on the back and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Holy shit, am I dying? Again?

He looked to Song Jiayi. Seeing his distress, she sighed and patted him on the back. “You aren’t circulating your meridians properly and turbid qi had built up. You should be fine now that you’ve expelled it, but you need to be careful. If you cultivate improperly it can lead to a qi deviation.”

Heng Xiaowen nodded, a little vacant, wiping the blood off his chin. It was hard to shake the feeling that he needed of immediate medical attention. But, he did actually feel quite a bit better than before. He felt sharper, more awake and present.

Song Jiayi narrowed her eyes at him. “How long have you been up training by yourself?”

“Awhile,” he answered noncommittally. Partially because he didn’t want to worry Song Jiayi and partially because he couldn’t keep the units of time here straight.

She sighed. “Did Liu Wanyin get to you?”

Heng Xiaowen was pretty sure that out of the two of them, he wasn’t the one Liu Wanyin got to. “No…”

“Put your sword away, Wen-er.” Song Jiayi tapped him on the head. “Come help your old teacher prepare breakfast.

Heng Xiaowen nodded obediently and followed her to sit around the stove.

Song Jiayi started pulling tools and ingredients out from their Merry Poppins bag and passed them to him.

They worked quietly for a while while the water heated. Washing rice, slicing ginger, soaking dried mushrooms. The sun still lurked beneath the horizon, but gray pre-dawn light filtered down through the forest canopy.

Heng Xiaowen had really grown to like these little moments. It felt good to have someone to make breakfast with. It felt good to have people to make breakfast for.

Song Jiayi broke the silence. “I don’t care if you don’t do well at the tournament.”

“Huh?" Heng Xiaowen looked up from feeding the stove more woodchips.

“I know people say that I’m eating drawings of cakes and that I’m looking for fish in the trees—I don’t care. Just don’t die.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Nothing happened.

The translation notes really couldn’t be relied on.

“Is it…” Heng Xiaowen tried to keep his tone light and casual. “Is it common for people to die in the tournament?”

“What?” Song Jiayi said. “No, no. It happens very rarely. The tournament is supervised by senior cultivators and they only accept participants who have formed their golden core.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’m just reminding you of our first precept. I don’t care if I seem like a fool or if you seem like a fool. I know you’ve had a setback since your injury and I know you care a lot about doing well for us. But so long as you’re alive, we can laugh along with everyone else.”

She tossed a handful of rice into the pot and covered it. “Go wake your juniors for morning meditation, the congee will be ready afterwards.”

Heng Xiaowen didn’t doubt that she believed what she said. A lot of people say things and mean them, but when their assertions are tested by reality, hindsight makes liars of them.

It’s not like Heng Xiaowen hadn’t just seen Song Jiayi slam a woman against a tree for being condescending to her.

In his experience, everyone’s patience for disappointment had a limit.