He actually admitted it.
Nan Shan was even more curious.
“There really is something like that? Can I eat it?”
“This kind of elixir can only be taken by me,” Ji Yue replied.
Nan Shan muttered, “So stingy.”
Ji Yue chuckled and didn’t say anything else.
Shou Xin was still asleep, so Nan Shan had no choice but to fend for herself.
She rolled up her sleeves and started cooking.
Although she was born in a farming family, she had been raised like a pampered little princess.
The way she clumsily waved the kitchen knife made even Ji Yue step forward.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
Nan Shan was stunned.
“You can cook?”
“I used to when I was young.”
Ji Yue took the knife from her without changing his expression.
Nan Shan immediately stepped back.
When she saw he was handling the knife quite skillfully, she exclaimed in surprise, “You actually can!”
Ji Yue smiled faintly, his gentle features softening in a way that warmed the heart.
Looking at this man as calm and refreshing as a spring breeze, Nan Shan’s tone softened as well.
“You said earlier that when you were young… Immortals had to cook for themselves when they were little?”
It was a pretty thoughtless question, but Ji Yue actually considered it.
“I’m not sure.”
Nan Shan paused, just about to speak when Ji Yue looked over.
“I was a mortal when I was young. I became a god later. So I don’t know if immortals have to cook for themselves as children.”
Nan Shan’s eyes widened.
“You were a mortal who became a god?”
“Mhm.”
“When did you become a god?”
“Around… seven or eight years old?”
“How did you become a god? Was the process hard? Were you cultivating the whole time, or did you live like a regular mortal?”
“Can you light a fire?”
Ji Yue asked.
Nan Shan’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted.
“Ah, that I can do.”
“You light the fire. I’ll cook.”
Ji Yue instructed.
Nan Shan agreed quickly and went to light the stove.
When she was squatting at the hearth, watching the fire catch, Ji Yue had already rolled up his sleeves and was making scallion scrambled eggs.
Only then did she suddenly realize—he hadn’t answered a single one of her earlier questions.
Was it that he didn’t want to answer, or had he simply forgotten?
Nan Shan blinked, unsure whether to ask again.
“I was chosen,” Ji Yue said slowly.
Nan Shan looked up.
The fragrance of scallions had already filled the air, and the steam momentarily blurred her view of him.
“When the previous Ji Yue Immortal Lord fell, I was chosen by the people of Dongyi as the Holy Child. I lived in this courtyard for a few years, then my golden body was forged, and I became a god. The process…”
Ji Yue plated the food and thought for a moment, “was quite fast. I hadn’t cultivated before that, just lived like a regular mortal. After inheriting the former Immortal Lord’s divine power, I began to cultivate.”
He answered every single question—so honestly, it was almost frightening.
Nan Shan was silent for a while and couldn’t help asking, “The people of Dongyi… really have that much power? They can even choose gods?”
Ji Yue laughed.
“It’s not like they choose randomly. The chosen one must have a pure yang birth chart, and also the ‘Five Deficiencies and Three Lacks.’”
“What are the ‘Five Deficiencies and Three Lacks’?”
Nan Shan asked, puzzled.
Ji Yue thought for a bit.
“Simply put, someone whose fate isn’t too good. I was a posthumous child—my mother died during childbirth. After the last Ji Yue Immortal Lord fell, there were three children who met the criteria, but I was the most suitable, so they chose me.”
“Then you’re quite lucky,” Nan Shan mused.
“You didn’t suffer much and even became a god.”
Ji Yue gave a light laugh.
“Yes, very lucky.”
While they spoke, he began cooking a second dish.
Nan Shan peeked at the wok, noticing there were way too many carrots.
She suddenly asked, “Will Shou Xin be the next Immortal Lord?”
“He won’t,” Ji Yue said with downcast eyes.
“He’s just my attendant.”
Nan Shan nodded, then added, “So the gods worshipped for generations by the people of Dongyi have all been called Ji Yue Immortal Lord?”
Ji Yue: “Yes.”
“Then what’s your real name?”
Nan Shan asked.
Ji Yue paused slightly, then after a moment replied, “I don’t have a real name. I was called Ji Yue from the moment I was born.”
“Oh…” Nan Shan suddenly remembered that he was an orphan, and a flicker of guilt crossed her face.
“Sorry, I was being rude.”
“It’s nothing,” Ji Yue smiled.
“Do you want soup?”
“No need. Water is fine.”
They brought the food to the small table in the courtyard.
Ji Yue used his spiritual power to warm up two steamed buns.
Nan Shan thanked him and pulled him to sit down and eat together.
“It’s delicious!”
Nan Shan’s eyes lit up after the first bite.
“Even better than what Shou Xin makes!”
Ji Yue chuckled.
“We should be about the same.”
“No way, yours tastes better,” Nan Shan said, glancing at Shou Xin’s door to make sure he wasn’t awake and eavesdropping before continuing to eat.
“You should eat too—it’s your own cooking.”
Ji Yue nodded.
After finishing the simple meal, Nan Shan rushed to wash the dishes.
When she returned, Ji Yue handed her a jade slip.
“This is a modified cultivation technique I worked on. Try it, see if you can use it,” he explained gently.
Nan Shan agreed and studied the jade slip carefully before attempting to cultivate with the technique.
After failing a third time, she returned the jade slip to Ji Yue, dejected.
“Still doesn’t work.”
“You’re missing a spiritual bone—it’s like a water channel missing a segment. It’s normal that spiritual energy can’t circulate. Don’t be too discouraged,” Ji Yue consoled her.
Nan Shan rubbed her eyes.
“But if spiritual energy can’t circulate, I can’t cultivate. If I can’t cultivate, how will I break through the barrier over Dongyi Island?”
“There will be a way,” Ji Yue reassured her again.
Nan Shan gave him a side-eye.
“You saw it again?”
A smile rose in Ji Yue’s eyes.
“Yes, I saw it.”
Even though she didn’t know exactly what he saw, after spending this much time together, Nan Shan had learned to tune out his cryptic talk.
After one more failed attempt at cultivating, she gave up completely.
“Forget it, I really am a useless person,” she grumbled.
Ji Yue: “You’re not.”
Nan Shan had only said it in frustration, but his sincere response left her speechless for a moment—then her mood lifted again.
“Of course I’m not! I was the cleverest kid in our village.”
The smile in Ji Yue’s eyes deepened as he reached out and gently patted her head.
Nan Shan looked at his gentle expression, and her heart suddenly softened. She even felt a little… embarrassed.
Ji Yue was so different from anyone she had known before—always calm and unhurried, always gentle and patient, as if nothing in the world could rattle him.
He was like… like a noble young master from an esteemed family.
Yes, the kind who excelled at studies and clearly lived in a completely different world from hers.
Nan Shan drifted off into thought, and Ji Yue didn’t interrupt her.
Only when her gaze returned to clarity did he speak:
“You must be tired. Go rest in your room. Don’t rush your cultivation.”
Nan Shan replied softly and turned toward her room, but suddenly slowed her steps as if remembering something.
“I’ll walk you there,” Ji Yue said, suddenly appearing beside her.
Nan Shan glanced at her bedroom door, uncertain.
“Um, about last night…”
“They won’t appear during the day,” Ji Yue said, clearly understanding what she meant.
He made a gesture with his fingers, and the door creaked open.
Everything inside was neat and tidy, the floor clean—nothing like the chaos Nan Shan had imagined.
“Ghosts don’t have physical forms. They won’t disturb your room,” Ji Yue explained as he stepped forward and turned back at the door.
“Go rest. If you’re afraid, I’ll stay right here.”
Nan Shan licked her dry lips, mustered her courage, and walked into her bedroom.
When she turned around again, he was still standing at the door, eyes firm yet gentle.
They looked at each other for a long moment.
Then she suddenly asked, “Did you come early this morning because you guessed I’d be scared, so you came to give me courage?”
Ji Yue was taken aback.
“You’re actually kind of nice,” Nan Shan commented, suddenly feeling less afraid.
The red sun hung high in the sky.
The morning mist had finally dissipated, and the freshness of dawn was gone.
Nan Shan wasn’t sure how long she had been up, but judging by how she felt, it must’ve been all morning.
Perfect time for a nap.
Yawning, she climbed into bed.
As she turned her head, she saw Ji Yue still standing at the door—and with that, she finally felt at ease and drifted off.
After a tense and sleepless night, she fell asleep the moment she touched the bed.
When she woke again, a seven-year-old child was squatting by her bed, but the adult at the door was gone.
“I thought he’d stay the whole time,” she muttered softly.
The child: “What are you mumbling about?”
Nan Shan: “I’m cursing you. You slept all night and didn’t care if I lived or died.”
“You’ve got some nerve! You were making a fuss in the middle of the night instead of sleeping—lucky I didn’t curse you out,” Shou Xin snapped.
Nan Shan rolled over and sat up, ignoring his complaints.
“What’s for lunch?”
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