Ji Wangshu breathed a sigh of relief. He was genuinely afraid of this girl now.
You really couldn’t tell—the famed Ice Sword Immortal, renowned for hundreds of miles around, actually had an insanely strong possessiveness.
Not only did she forbid Chen Miao from calling him Brother Wangshu, but she also forbade him from making eyes at any other female disciple.
Heaven above as his witness, he wouldn’t dare make eyes at other female disciples. This was a female-dominant world! Besides, the female disciples in the Immortal Sect looked at him like starving wolves spotting a lost little lamb. He couldn’t even run fast enough.
Good thing this was the Dream World. If Mu Zhiming were also here in the Real World and saw him with his Junior Sister…
For some reason, he inexplicably thought of the dark basement in the sect grounds where no light ever reached.
The moment that image crossed his mind, terror gripped his heart. He shook his head and looked at Mu Zhiming before him.
She was still crouching by the flower garden, carefully tending to the petals.
If that was the case, wasn’t Mu Zhiming a gravity-type yandere?
So this girl had that attribute hidden away too?
He was stunned for a moment, then thought to himself:
‘Good thing all of this is fake. There’s no way Mu Zhiming would show up at Yixiu Sect in the Real World and stage a three-way love triangle with my Junior Sister…’
He chuckled, exchanged goodnights with Mu Zhiming, then walked back into his room and fell into a deep sleep.
……
The next day, Ji Wangshu rose bright and early, stepped out of the courtyard, and spotted Chen Miao at the entrance.
She was standing on a flying sword, looking like she’d been waiting for quite a while.
“Sister Chen, you’re this early?” he asked in surprise.
“Junior Brother Ji, you’re the late one! Look at what time it is already.”
He looked up at the sky and saw the sun hanging high, right at noon—the hottest part of the day.
“Haha, for me, this is early.” With that, he lightly leaped up, landed at the tail of the sword, and grabbed a corner of Chen Miao’s robe.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Seeing how reserved he was, Chen Miao opened her mouth, about to say: “Junior Brother Ji, you can put your hand on my waist.”
But then she remembered last time when the two of them were like this, Senior Sister Mu had smelled her faint fragrance on Ji Wangshu and hadn’t spoken to her for two or three days. She dropped the thought.
Sigh, who would’ve thought that Senior Sister Mu, someone so obsessed with the sword, would be so attentive to a man…
Chen Miao shook her head and flew toward the market town below the mountain on her sword.
Although the Immortal Sect was nestled among the mountains, it wasn’t in a remote location. It sat at one of the four corners of Ningzhou, so the market town wasn’t far away. For cultivators, it was only the time it takes to burn two sticks of incense.
Before long, the two arrived at the market town.
The town was built against the mountain, with pavilions scattered in layers. On both sides of the blue-stone-paved streets, the sounds of vendors hawking and customers haggling never ceased.
Spirit banners snapped in the wind, bearing characters like “Spirit Pill Pavilion,” “Artifact Studio,” and “Talisman Shop.”
The streets were crowded with pedestrians, mostly women. The occasional men who passed wore veiled hats and walked with hurried steps, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes.
Ji Wangshu looked around curiously. This was a rare trip down the mountain since he’d entered the Dream World.
But his gawking drew sidelong glances from many female cultivators passing by.
He whispered to Chen Miao: “Sister Chen, why is everyone staring at me?”
Chen Miao smiled sweetly: “Junior Brother Ji, ordinary men stay home to manage the household and raise the children. They rarely go out and show their faces in public.”
“Someone like you who voluntarily goes out is naturally a rarity. Besides…”
At that, Chen Miao studied Ji Wangshu’s face.
Sword-like brows and starry eyes. Though his features weren’t as delicate as the other men here, they carried a sharp, fierce edge.
No makeup on his face, his skin tanned a healthy bronze by the sun. Sunlight fell across his chiseled jawline, casting a faint sheen.
He radiated an aura of masculine vigor, completely different from the soft, delicate men in the market town.
It’s just that he hadn’t dressed up much. If he did, maybe Senior Sister Mu would…
She let out a light laugh and changed the subject: “By the way, Junior Brother Ji, did you bring any spirit stones?”
Ji Wangshu was taken aback. He’d actually forgotten about that. He scratched his head and let out an awkward chuckle.
Seeing this, Chen Miao rolled her eyes, pulled a storage pouch from her waist, and handed it over: “There are 1,500 spirit stones inside. Use them for now. We’ll just charge it to Senior Sister Mu’s account.”
Ji Wangshu nodded slightly and walked into the largest building, the “Treasure Pavilion.” He looked around, but the space exceeded his imagination. After a full circuit, he still hadn’t found the eye veil he wanted to buy.
He glanced around and saw that everyone coming and going was a female cultivator in daoist robes. He frowned slightly.
How was a man like him supposed to strike up a conversation first? He mulled it over.
Just as he was hesitating, a woman wearing the shop’s uniform cyan silk dress approached him.
She wore a standard smile, her brows curved like a new moon, her vermilion lips parting to reveal a few pearl-white teeth. Her voice was crisp and pleasant.
He breathed a sigh of relief and spoke: “Fellow Daoist, I’d like to purchase an eye veil. The kind used to cover the eyes.”
The Treasure Pavilion clerk was briefly stunned, then wore an odd, almost teasing expression as she pressed her lips down and replied: “Oh, an eye veil? That’s in that corner over there.”
Ji Wangshu noticed her suppressed smile but didn’t say anything. He nodded gratefully and walked toward the corner.
What he saw there was a completely different scene. The people coming and going were all men, with rarely a woman in sight.
These men all had thick powder caked on their faces, delicate eyeliner painted above their brows, and walked with swaying waists, clutching silk handkerchiefs, heads bowed and eyes downcast—the very picture of a frail, timid “pretty boy.”
Ji Wangshu almost vomited from what he saw. Then he looked at the shelves around him.
The shelves were made of rosewood, displaying all sorts of exquisite little items—from eye veils to whips, from bells to ropes, and everything in between. A tasseled curtain hung in the middle of the shelves, and above it hung a plaque bearing large characters: “Joy Pavilion.”
Ji Wangshu’s mouth fell wide open, and his cheeks flushed red.
Th-This is outrageous!
So that’s why the clerk had that knowing smile earlier?
Since when did eye veils become adult toys?!
A scene flashed through his mind:
The moon hung at its zenith, its clear light flowing like water. Mu Zhiming wore a plain cyan daoist robe with bare shoulders, revealing her pale neck and exquisite butterfly bones.
Her face was as cold and aloof as ever, but a black eye veil covered her eyes. The icy, keep-your-distance expression contrasted sharply with the black lace-trimmed veil, making one’s heart tremble—adding a hint of forbidden allure to her holiness.
At the thought, he unconsciously swallowed a few times.
Everyone keep a straight face, that’s an order!
Fine, that was too hard. An outfit like that was just begging to stir up desire.
Ji Wangshu hurriedly imitated the other men in the corner—taking small steps with his head lowered—grabbed a black eye veil from the shelf, kept his eyes straight ahead, and walked directly to the counter nearby.
“Fellow Daoist, that will be 500 spirit stones.”
“Alright, that’s fine. No need to wrap it, thank you.”
He didn’t dare raise his eyes. He counted out 500 spirit stones from his storage pouch, handed them over, and was about to grab the eye veil and leave when the clerk across from him spoke.
“Fellow Daoist, hold on. Every customer gets a spin on this wheel for a chance at fortune. Would you like to try?”
Ji Wangshu raised his eyes slightly and noticed a spinning wheel nearby. The grand prize read: [Half Price on Any Selected Item in the Store].
He frowned, thinking that the grand prize was surely just for show—same as those scams from his previous life. There was no way anyone could actually land on it.
He stepped up and flicked the pointer.
The pointer spun a full circle, then stopped after a moment, landing precisely on the grand prize.
His pupils widened, his eyes full of disbelief.
This thing could actually be won?
But even if he won, it was useless. It wasn’t like he was actually here to buy adult items.
The clerk seemed to read his mind and gave a knowing smirk: “If you don’t know what to buy, I’d recommend this.”
With that, she picked up a black choker from the items beside her and gestured with it around her neck twice.
Ji Wangshu sucked in a sharp breath. Another image flashed through his mind—
Under the moonlight, Mu Zhiming wearing a black eye veil and a black choker, her face frost-cold. The extreme contrast tugged at his heart.
“Cough, cough. I’ll take this one. How many spirit stones?”
“This material costs a bit more, Fellow Daoist. Original price is 800 spirit stones. With the discount, 400.”
He frowned, thinking how it was still so expensive even after the discount. But he dutifully handed over the spirit stones and prepared to leave.
Just then, the clerk called out again: “You get one more spin! Don’t you want to try, Fellow Daoist?”
He flicked the pointer again, and after a moment, it stopped—giving the impression it was about to land on the grand prize.
Ji Wangshu’s pupils widened again.
No way? The grand prize again?
A few breaths later, the pointer crossed the grand prize and stopped just beside it. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked at what it said: [Seven Fold Discount Makeup Once].
Oh well, another discount. Since I’m here, I might as well go with it. Let her do her thing.
Maybe it could even raise Mu Zhiming’s affection toward him, he mused.
He sat down on a nearby chair and nodded to the clerk.
The clerk smiled sweetly, pulled out a powder compact and eyebrow pencil from her storage pouch, and asked: “What kind of makeup does the Fellow Daoist want?”
Ji Wangshu looked up at the other customers in the shop—all dressed as effeminate crossdressers—and immediately replied:
“Something more masculine.”
The clerk then set to work on his face, saying as she went: “It seems some female cultivators these days actually like this kind of look.”
“Is that so? Good.” Ji Wangshu closed his eyes and responded.
For some reason, Mu Zhiming’s figure flashed through his mind once more.
He let out a light sigh. A man and a woman of different realms—it was ultimately a flower in the mirror, a moon on the water’s surface.
Wait, why would he think that? Could it be that he’d actually fallen for Wood?
His sword-like brows knitted together, his face full of disbelief. He shook his head, telling himself he was overthinking things.
His kindness toward Mu Zhiming was purely for the sake of the mission—for the system rewards. How could he possibly truly fall for her?
A moment later, the clerk put away the eyebrow pencil and interrupted his thoughts: “Fellow Daoist, all done.”
He opened his eyes and looked off into the distance. The sun was already near setting, and the orange glow of dusk spilled across the main road.
He cursed inwardly. Without even checking how his makeup looked, he hurriedly pulled out spirit stones: “How much?”
“300 after the discount, Fellow Daoist.”
He didn’t even have time to complain about the outrageous price. He hastily handed over the spirit stones, then stepped out of the shop to find Chen Miao standing at the entrance, wearing a thoroughly bored expression.
“Quick, quick, Sister Chen. Otherwise Wood’s going to overthink things again.”
With that, he grabbed her hand, stepped onto the flying sword, and shot into the sky.
Only after their figures disappeared beyond the horizon did a woman in white robes, standing by the roadside with a sword on her back and an air of refined elegance, slowly withdraw her gaze.
She nodded in contemplation, the surprise fading from her face, then walked into the market town.
“Oh, if it isn’t Fellow Daoist Su!” the clerk greeted her with a beaming smile.
“Those two just now were…” the white-robed woman asked curiously.
The clerk thought for a moment, then it clicked: “Oh! I think they’re from the same sect as Fellow Daoist Su.”
The white-robed woman nodded slightly, and the image of Ji Wangshu’s face floated through her mind: sword-like brows, starry eyes, sharply upturned, with a bronze complexion.
At the thought, the white-robed woman couldn’t help but blush.
“I wouldn’t know exactly who they were. After all, not everyone is like Fellow Daoist Su—famous far and wide at such a young age.”
The white-robed woman shook her head slightly at that and said: “I’m not that remarkable.”
“Oh, Fellow Daoist Su is too modest! Who doesn’t know you’re the number two of the younger generation in the Immortal Sect, second only to that Ice Sword Immortal Mu Zhiming? Su Qingyue, everyone knows your name!”