Nan Shan quickly covered his mouth.
“I won’t talk to him again, I swear.”
Shou Xin stared at her suspiciously for a long time, but finally calmed down.
Seeing that he’d stopped struggling, Nan Shan let go and threw in another compliment:
“I just noticed… your eyes kinda look like Xianjun Ji Yue’s, the way they slant up at the corners.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Xianjun Ji Yue is a true immortal. How could I possibly resemble him?”
Shou Xin tried to sound serious, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him.
Nan Shan grinned.
“Remember, next time we run into him, we kick him over.”
Shou Xin emphasized.
The “him” needed no explanation.
Nan Shan: “Not talking to someone is already rude enough. Kicking an old man—one even older than her own dad—might be a bit much.”
Afraid that Shou Xin would storm off again, Nan Shan reluctantly agreed.
Sorry, Uncle Zhong, I have to save myself first.
Sure enough, Shou Xin forgave her.
Nan Shan was relieved, though still worried that if Uncle Zhong showed up again, she wouldn’t be able to stop Shou Xin from going all-out on him.
Thankfully, after the medicinal meal got kicked over, Uncle Zhong never returned.
Though Nan Shan still worried, at least she herself avoided the fate of punching old men and stomping on food boxes.
By the time she’d eaten who knows how many meals, her long-drawn-out monthly cycle finally ended.
Nan Shan, at long last, sat at her desk.
Time to study.
She looked at the new books—new in content, but so old they were yellow with age.
She barely recognized a few characters and was otherwise clueless.
“No worries. Once you grasp the basics, you’ll pick it up quickly,” Ji Yue said gently, noticing her hesitation.
Nan Shan pressed her dry lips together and obediently picked up the brush.
It had to be said—Ji Yue was far more patient than Shou Xin, and had a better temper too.
She had to recite a phrase three times before remembering it, but he never got angry.
He simply changed his teaching method.
Gradually, she calmed down. Shou Xin, watching from the side for quite a while, finally couldn’t resist.
He dragged a chair over and sat down beside her.
“What are you doing?”
Nan Shan immediately defended her desk space.
Shou Xin: “Listening to Xianjun’s lesson. Scoot over.”
“Haven’t you already studied this stuff?”
Nan Shan refused.
Shou Xin: “Yeah, but not with him teaching.”
The two stared at each other, neither backing down.
“Quiet,” Ji Yue reminded them gently. Both instantly quieted.
Even though sharing her desk was annoying, studying with someone was clearly more fun.
When Nan Shan closed her book, she realized her stomach had been growling for a while.
“Xianjun, stay for dinner,” Shou Xin offered boldly.
Nan Shan was surprised.
“Xianjun eats too?”
Such a silly question earned an eye roll from Shou Xin, but Ji Yue patiently answered, “I can eat or not eat.”
“Today I cooked. No sacrificial offerings,” Shou Xin added.
Ji Yue seemed about to refuse, but when he saw Shou Xin’s hopeful expression, he reluctantly agreed.
Shou Xin cheered and dashed off to the kitchen.
Nan Shan raised a brow, then turned to Ji Yue.
“Shou Xin really likes you.”
“He does.”
Ji Yue looked in the direction of the kitchen, his expression gentle.
Something stirred in Nan Shan’s heart.
“Xianjun, how do you choose your disciples?”
Ji Yue paused, lowering his gaze to meet hers.
“…I heard from Shou Xin that he’s been here since birth. I was just curious. How did you end up choosing him? He was so little when he left his parents… were they really willing to part with him?”
Nan Shan carefully watched Ji Yue’s expression.
Ji Yue looked back toward the busy figure in the kitchen.
“He’s an orphan. He only had me.”
Nan Shan froze.
She’d assumed it was some villain stealing a baby scenario, but it turned out the immortal had kindly taken in an orphan.
She felt a bit ashamed of her own suspicion, muttered a few vague words, and quickly excused herself to help in the kitchen.
Seeing her show up, Shou Xin was surprised.
“Why aren’t you keeping the Xianjun company? What are you doing in here?”
“I’m here to help,” Nan Shan said calmly.
Shou Xin immediately shoved her away.
“Don’t bother. I’ve never seen you offer help before. Go back and keep the Xianjun company—what if he leaves?”
“…Fine.”
“Go! Now!”
A moment later, Nan Shan and Ji Yue sat facing each other.
“So… uh…”
Nan Shan gave an awkward smile, scrambling for words.
Ji Yue suddenly chuckled, like bamboo after the rain—light and refreshing. Nan Shan’s heart settled.
“Shou Xin asked you to keep me company?” he guessed.
She nodded honestly.
“He did.”
“Alright,” Ji Yue replied.
Then silence.
Thankfully, it didn’t last long.
Shou Xin came out carrying a steaming plate of food.
Nan Shan was about to get up to help, but he stopped her with a look.
“Don’t move. I’ve got this.”
Then he turned to Ji Yue.
“She can barely walk straight. I wouldn’t dare let her help.”
“…It was one fall. Are you really going to keep bringing it up?”
Nan Shan grumbled.
Shou Xin hummed and went back to the kitchen.
Nan Shan stuck her tongue out at his back—only to meet Ji Yue’s eyes when she turned around.
“You got hurt?” he asked.
“No… okay, yes. I bruised my leg,” Nan Shan admitted, unable to lie in the face of his clear gaze.
She was wearing clothes from the Dongyi tribe—short tops and loose pants, ideal for fishing folk.
She easily rolled up a section to reveal the bruise.
“Doesn’t hurt anymore though.”
Before she finished the sentence, Ji Yue had already crouched down and gently held her leg.
His hand was warm and slender, yet had a grounded presence.
Nan Shan stiffened, only relaxing when he let go.
She looked down—her leg was as smooth and unblemished as before.
“…With skills like that, if you worked at our medicine hall, you’d make a fortune,” she said cheekily.
“A fortune?”
Ji Yue’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“Another four-character idiom. You’ve made real progress lately.”
Nan Shan cleared her throat.
“I think so too.”
The two adults chatted casually in the courtyard while the seven-year-old ran in and out, none of them sensing anything strange about it.
When Shou Xin finally sat down too, Nan Shan quickly picked up her chopsticks.
Shou Xin, quick as ever, snatched the only chicken leg and handed it to Ji Yue.
“Here, Xianjun. It’s not a sacrificial offering.”
“You don’t like offerings?”
Nan Shan followed up, looking hesitantly at Ji Yue.
“Aren’t they just regular food? And they’re meant for you. Why wouldn’t you like them?”
Ji Yue: “I’m tired of them.”
Nan Shan was stunned—that answer had never occurred to her.
Shou Xin jumped in:
“He’s eaten them for years. Of course he’s sick of it. My food is way better, right, Xianjun?”
***
Ji Yue nodded slightly and picked up a chicken leg, eating it slowly.
His posture remained upright the whole time; even though the chicken leg was large, he ate it without the slightest mess.
Nan Shan glanced over a few times, and couldn’t resist straightening her back too, mimicking his way of eating slowly.
“Is it good?”
Shou Xin asked eagerly.
Ji Yue nodded with a smile.
Shou Xin’s eyes instantly lit up.
Nan Shan scooped a couple of bites of rice, about to tease Shou Xin, when a piece of egg landed in her bowl.
She paused and looked up, just in time to see Ji Yue withdrawing his chopsticks.
“I changed to a new pair,” Ji Yue explained.
Nan Shan looked and saw his chopsticks neatly resting on his bowl, and he was indeed holding a new, clean pair.
He really is… particular.
Nan Shan, in all her years, had never known you were supposed to use a different pair of chopsticks when serving food to someone else.
She glanced at Shou Xin again — when she had given Ji Yue a chicken leg earlier, she had also used an unused pair.
“Eat,” Ji Yue gently reminded her.
Nan Shan murmured in agreement.
The meal ended quickly.
Nan Shan returned to the desk and resumed reading At the Beginning, Human Nature is Good.
Occasionally, she slacked off and let her thoughts drift.
She glanced absently toward the room next to the outhouse — its doors and windows were tightly shut, as if abandoned.
But she knew full well that Uncle Zhong lived there.
It was strange, now that she thought about it.
Uncle Zhong addressed her with utmost respect, calling her “Madam of the Immortal Lord” as though his reverence might overflow.
One could imagine how deeply he admired Ji Yue — perhaps no less than Shou Xin did.
Yet, Ji Yue had come so many times, and Uncle Zhong had never once come out to pay respects.
“Nan Shan, Nan Shan…”
A gentle voice sounded in her ear.
Nan Shan snapped her head up.
“Huh?”
Ji Yue said helplessly, “Don’t get distracted.”
“Ah… there’s something on your head.”
Nan Shan said as she stood up, reaching toward his head.
Ji Yue paused in surprise and instinctively lowered his head.
The next moment, he saw Nan Shan pick a fallen leaf from his hair.
“See? I wasn’t lying,” Nan Shan said proudly, perfectly covering up the fact that she hadn’t been paying attention in class.
Ji Yue smiled silently, then suddenly reached out and poked her cheek with a finger.
Nan Shan: “…”
“Say thank you,” he said.
Nan Shan: “??”
Ji Yue’s eyes were filled with amusement.
The little episode ended, and they returned to studying.
Nan Shan kept learning until she was yawning nonstop.
When she finally put away the old books, she turned to Shou Xin, exhausted, and said, “Why do I feel like this lesson lasted longer than before?”
“It didn’t. Just your imagination,” Shou Xin replied calmly, having deliberately delayed bringing their meal.
“Same as usual.”
“Really?”
Nan Shan stretched lazily and was about to head back into the house when she suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Shou Xin asked, “Why are you just standing there?”
“The sun…” Nan Shan stared fixedly at the blood-red sun in the sky.
Shou Xin sighed, “Why are you staring at the sun again? Aren’t you afraid of going blind?”
“No…,” Nan Shan grabbed his arm.
“Didn’t you see it? There’s a huge black spot on the sun!”
Ever since she’d arrived in Dongyi, this was the first time she dared point out something so obvious — something anyone with eyes could see.
She thought Shou Xin would ignore this anomaly, just like he ignored all the other strange things.
But instead, he gave her a strange look and said, “Isn’t that normal? It’s getting dark.”