The blood rushed to his face.
“Impudent!”
He shoved her away with a sudden burst of strength.
She stumbled back two steps, regained her balance, and looked up at him. Those eyes were clear and clean, like a spring pool reflecting his image.
“Master’s Husband?” She blinked, looking completely innocent. “Did this disciple do something wrong?”
Shen Mo choked on his words.
Beside them, Manager Zheng watched with a dazed expression.
Shen Mo opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.
‘What did she do wrong?’
‘She had only supported him. She had only failed to let go immediately when she steadied him.
When she held him, her finger had merely twitched once. But that moment — could he even explain it? He could not. Perhaps he was being too sensitive.
Maybe she really did just touch me by accident. Maybe those looks and those words were all in my head.’
She was a young girl of 17 or 18, and he was her Master’s Husband, an elder.
How could he accuse her of being disrespectful in front of Manager Zheng? Yet, he had clearly seen that it wasn’t an accident.
“Master’s Husband?” she asked again, tilting her head with a look of total confusion. “What is wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Her innocent display made Shen Mo wish he could find a hole to crawl into.
“It’s… it’s nothing.” He turned his head, not daring to look at her. “Leave for now.”
“What about the Spirit Chickens…?”
“I’ll have someone send them to you later.”
“Yes.”
She bowed and turned to leave. At the door, she suddenly stopped.
“Master’s Husband,” she said without turning around, “did I hurt you when I held you just now? If I was too rough, please punish me as you see fit. I would have no complaints.”
There was a hint of grievance and unease in her voice, as if she were truly afraid, truly worried.
Shen Mo stood there, staring at her back. Sunlight streamed through the doorway, falling upon her and making her moon-white robes glow softly.
She stood with a straight back, her shoulders slightly hunched like a child waiting for punishment.
“No,” he said. “You didn’t hurt me.”
She turned around, a smile blooming on her face. That smile was as bright as the spring sunlight of March, so pure it made one’s heart soften.
“That is good,” she said. “I thought I had done something wrong. The look you gave me just now scared me to death.”
She laughed as she spoke, then turned and left.
Shen Mo stood in the Incubation Room, watching her silhouette disappear.
Manager Zheng muttered beside him, “That girl was raised by you since she was small, so she is close to you. She must have been worried sick seeing you about to fall.”
He said nothing.
‘Worried sick.’
‘Yes, she was just worried sick. But then, what was the point of his shove and that shout of “Impudent!”?’
She meant well. She was worried about him. Yet he guarded against her as if she were a thief.
Shen Mo closed his eyes and rubbed his face hard.
“Manager Zheng.”
“Yes.”
“About what just happened… don’t mention it to anyone.”
Manager Zheng paused, then nodded. “Rest assured, Lord. This old servant’s lips are sealed.”
He gave a hum of acknowledgment and walked out.
Upon leaving the Spirit Beast Garden, a cold wind hit him, making him shiver. The sky was overcast, looking as if it might snow. Shen Mo walked along the corridor, his mind a mess.
‘Was what she did just now intentional? If it was intentional, then she is far too good at acting. If it wasn’t… then what was he suspicious of?’
He stopped, leaning against a pillar, and let out a long breath.
Snow began to fall. It fell fine and dense, landing on the eaves, in the courtyard, and on his shoulders. He suddenly recalled something his mother had said long ago.
“You, child, are too soft-hearted and prone to overthinking. If someone treats you well even a little, you remember it tenfold; if someone treats you poorly even once, you remember that tenfold too. Isn’t it exhausting to live like that?”
‘Exhausting. Of course it was. But he could not change.’
……
At dusk, Chao’er came again.
When she arrived, Shen Mo was in his room looking over the ledgers. The candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows over the characters.
“Master’s Husband,” she called out from outside.
The brush in his hand paused. “Come in.”
She pushed the door open and entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of hot soup.
“This disciple had some Ginseng Soup brewed,” she said, placing the tray before him. “You looked pale this afternoon, Master’s Husband. Drink some Ginseng Soup to nourish yourself.”
Shen Mo looked at the soup. The steam rose in curls, carrying a bitter yet fragrant aroma.
“Leave it,” he said. “I will drink it in a moment.”
She didn’t leave. She stood before the desk, watching him.
“Is there something else?” he asked.
“Master’s Husband,” she began, her tone more serious than before. “This disciple has a matter to report.”
Shen Mo looked up. Under the candlelight, her face appeared more solemn than usual, her brow carrying a weight of gravity unusual for her age.
“Before the Peak Master entered Seclusion, she said that once this disciple reached Foundation Establishment Level 3, I could apply for the Mystic Realm Trial next spring,” she said. “I went to the Hall of Affairs today to inquire. The quotas for next year have been released, and Jiaoyue Peak has one.”
Shen Mo’s hand tightened around the brush.
The Mystic Realm Trial. That was an opportunity sought after by the disciples of every peak, but it was also a place of extreme danger.
The thirty-six peaks sent no fewer than 100 disciples inside every year, and those who came out alive were less than 50%.
“You want to go?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “This disciple wishes to go.”
Shen Mo looked at her. The candlelight flickered in her eyes, reflecting two small sparks of light. That light was brilliant, just like her — young, sharp, and reckless.
“Do you know what kind of place the Mystic Realm is?” He put down his brush, his voice involuntarily deepening.
“It is not like practicing swordsmanship, reciting books, and taking exams on the peak. It is a place where people actually die. Half of the disciples sent in by the peaks every year never come out.”
“This disciple knows.”
“You know, and yet you still want to go?”
“It is because I know that I must go,” she said, her gaze steady. “I do not want to stay on the peak for the rest of my life, acting as an ordinary disciple who only knows how to offer greetings, keep records, and collect Elixirs. I want to move upward.”
‘Move upward.’
Those words left Shen Mo speechless for a moment. He looked at her and was suddenly reminded of himself 7 years ago.
Back then, he had also thought about moving upward. He had thought about cultivation, about immortality, and about one day standing at the summit to see just how vast the world was.
Later, he married into Jiaoyue Peak. Later, he learned how to manage ledgers, distribute Elixirs, and handle social obligations. Later, everyone praised him for being a virtuous husband.
“Master’s Husband,” her voice pulled him back. “I know you are worried. But if I do not go, I will never be at peace in this life.”
Shen Mo remained silent for a long time.
“Does the Peak Master know?” he asked.
“Before the Peak Master entered Seclusion, she said that my matters were to be decided by the Master’s Husband,” she said. “I have come today to ask for your permission.”
‘Ask for my permission.’
He rolled those words over his tongue and suddenly found it a bit amusing. She was Wan’er’s disciple and a member of Jiaoyue Peak.
If she wanted to go to the Mystic Realm, what right did he have to stop her?
He was merely a husband who had married into the family.
He wasn’t her Honored Teacher, he wasn’t her elder, and he wasn’t even her blood relative. By what right could he stop her?
“If you want to go, then go,” he heard himself say, his voice flat, as if he were remarking on the weather being pleasant. “This is your own business. You do not need to ask me.”
She was taken aback. “Master’s Husband?”
“I said, if you want to go, then go.” He lowered his head and returned to the ledgers. “Since the quota for the Mystic Realm has been settled, you should prepare well. Go to the Treasury later and collect some Elixirs and Talismans. Prepare everything that needs to be prepared.”
She stood there, unmoving. Shen Mo stared at the words in the ledger, which swayed in the candlelight until he couldn’t make out a single one.
“Master’s Husband,” she spoke again.
“Is there something else?”
“Before I go to the Mystic Realm, I want to go into Seclusion for a while,” she said. “I want to stabilize my Foundation Establishment Level 3 cultivation and further practice the sword techniques you taught me.”
“Mhm.”
“The Seclusion will last at least 1 month, and at most 2,” she said. “I have come to bid the Master’s Husband farewell.”
‘Farewell.’
When those words hit his ears, Shen Mo finally raised his head. She stood there, her face half-illuminated by the candle flame and half-hidden in the shadows.
Those eyes watched him, bright as ever, but there was something more within that light now.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He only felt a sudden sense that after this parting, they might never see each other again.
Fewer than 50% survived the Mystic Realm. There was a 50% chance she would die in there.
“Master’s Husband?” she called softly, seeing him staring blankly at her.
Shen Mo snapped back to reality. “When… when do you begin your Seclusion?”
“Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. So soon. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back down.
“Then go,” he said. “Prepare well.”
She nodded and turned to walk out. At the door, she suddenly stopped.
“Master’s Husband,” she said without turning around.
“Yes?”
“If I come back from the Mystic Realm alive, may I ask one thing of the Master’s Husband?”