Song Qian Ji quickly replaced the gate to his courtyard.

A wooden door of peach wood, painted with bright vermilion lacquer and fitted with gleaming bronze rings.

Two green gauze lanterns hung before the door, the silk decorated with slanted peach blossom branches, exuding an elegant charm.

When the spring breeze blew, they swayed gently.

Like the petals from the spring peach tree outside the courtyard gate, inadvertently sticking to the surface of the lanterns.

Meng He Ze’s friends were swift and efficient, delivering and installing everything, achieving much with many hands.

Zhou Xiao Yun even hung a delicate small wooden plaque by the door. On it were two neatly carved characters: Song Yuan (Song’s Courtyard).

Song Qian Ji had to admit that female cultivators’ aesthetic taste was indeed far superior to rough men like himself.

Meng He Ze nodded from his wheelchair: “Not bad, quite impressive.”

“Quite impressive” was a modest way of putting it. Now the entrance to Song Qian Ji’s residence was undoubtedly the most impressive in the entire outer sect.

However, once the door opened, the contrast between the outside and inside only emphasized how empty and sparse the courtyard was.

The chair Chen Hong Zhu had sat on and the teacup she had used had been thrown away. The ground had been turned over by Song Qian Ji, clearing away broken stones and weeds, but he hadn’t yet had time to set up a fence or plant flowers and vegetable seedlings.

Everything needed rebuilding, just like this spring of his rebirth.

While satisfied, Song Qian Ji felt somewhat wistful.

In his previous life, many people had scrambled to do things for him. Let alone wanting to replace a door, even if he wanted a new palace, people would have offered it with both hands.

But that was because they feared him or wanted something from him.

They spoke of benefits and exchanges, but never of loyalty or sincerity.

“Thank you all,” Song Qian Ji said.

“What’s there to thank!” Zhou Xiao Yun beamed with joy: “Senior Brother Song, you’re too polite. We need to go work now, but we’ll come back tomorrow to replace your other furniture!”

Hua Wei Sect enrolled a thousand outer sect disciples, essentially recruiting a group of low-paid miscellaneous workers with room and board provided.

They went to the Steward’s Hall every day to receive tasks, such as mining spirit stones, grooming and cleaning up after spiritual beasts, running errands for outer sect disciples, and so on, earning meager spirit stones based on task completion.

Performing sect tasks was jokingly referred to as “working.”

Unless, like Zhao Ji Heng, one didn’t lack money and viewed the outer sect merely as a stepping stone, purely for experiencing life.

Otherwise, “cultivation” and “working” formed an irreconcilable contradiction in the lives of outer sect disciples.

Without working, there were no spirit stones to purchase or borrow cultivation methods; with diligent work, there was no time for cultivation.

Meng He Ze, due to his injuries, was temporarily exempt from work for the next few days.

The others were walking out with cheerful conversation when suddenly their footsteps halted and laughter fell silent.

Someone was standing at the door, blocking their way.

The person wore emerald green brocade robes and a jade crown. A sword hung at his waist, its scabbard inlaid with various gems, exceptionally luxurious.

He lifted the wooden plaque by the door with one finger, sneering: “Song… Yuan.”

The spring breeze brought a chill. The joyful atmosphere in the courtyard vanished completely.

Everyone shielded Meng He Ze and Song Qian Ji behind them, glaring vigilantly at the man.

The brocade-clad young master then looked up at the swaying lanterns, still snickering:

“Don’t you know that in the market town below, the night is livelier than the day? When the brothel girls light up peach blossom lanterns at their doors, it signals they’re ready to receive customers. I see this Song Yuan has a similar ingenuity.”

Zhou Xiao Yun’s face flushed red: “Zhao Ji Heng, how vulgar of you!”

“Oh, isn’t this Junior Sister Zhou?” Zhao Ji Heng pretended to just notice her, moving closer in surprise. “Our Hua Wei Sect has so few beautiful female cultivators. For a precious flower like you to mingle with them all day is truly a waste of treasure.”

Meng He Ze coldly asked: “What are you doing here?”

He rotated his wheelchair, emerging from the crowd, seeming more confident than the standing Zhao Ji Heng.

Zhao Ji Heng instinctively stepped back, but remembering the man was severely injured, he smiled again: “I’ve come to deliver a gift! If you don’t show proper hospitality, that’s quite inappropriate, isn’t it?”

With that, he called toward the door: “Bring it in!”

Four of his followers carried in a familiar reclining chair, neatly crossing the threshold.

“Put it down,” Zhao Ji Heng said haughtily. “Song Qian Ji, this sedan chair is a gift for you. Try sitting on it again.”

After the note-passing incident with the Disciplinary Hall that led to seeing the sect leader, Song Qian Ji had become famous among the three halls.

Disciples from the Disciplinary Hall and Enforcement Hall, most of whom had never seen or known him before, would be told whenever someone asked “Which one is Song Qian Ji”:

“He’s the one who was late for the outer sect examination and was carried in a sedan chair.”

When this reached Zhao Ji Heng’s ears, he laughed until he pounded his chest:

“How brilliant was I to have Song Lu paraded around the square? I’m a genius!”

He came today intending to mock and insult his opponent while showing off.

Zhao Ji Heng patted the armrest of the recliner: “Look at you all, going through so much trouble, nearly expelled from the sect, yet I’m the one entering the inner sect. I thought you might have found a patron after meeting the sect leader, but here you are, slinking back to the outer sect?”

Meng He Ze was so angry he almost rose from his wheelchair, grabbed the recliner with one hand, and flung it away.

Zhao Ji Heng jumped aside, confident that Meng He Ze couldn’t reach him: “Throw it if you want, toss it away if you please. I’ll bring another one tomorrow. Although I now live in the inner sect, making a trip here is somewhat troublesome…”

“Thank you.”

Zhao Ji Heng looked as if struck by lightning, whipping his head around to see Song Qian Ji catching the recliner with a smile.

“What did you say?”

“I said thank you.” Song Qian Ji dragged the recliner and placed it in a suitable position by the stone table. “It’s quite comfortable.”

Someone giving it to him for free saved him the trouble of buying one—a good thing.

Perfect for collapsing into after working in the field, enjoying the breeze, and drinking tea in the evening.

Zhao Ji Heng was stunned. Just as he was about to ask “What’s wrong with you?” his arm was suddenly grabbed forcefully.

“How did you end up here? Steward Zhao has been looking everywhere for you!”

“Can’t you see I’m busy? Wait a moment.” Zhao Ji Heng, seeing that the newcomer was a steward under his uncle, didn’t take him seriously.

He impatiently shook his hand, but surprisingly couldn’t shake it off, leaving him astonished.

“We can’t wait!” A group of stewards rushed in, surrounding him from all sides.

Fearing he would cause trouble, following Zhao Yu Ping’s instructions, they bound his hands with a celestial rope. “Come back with us now!”

“Hey, hey, what are you doing!” Zhao Ji Heng was shocked, like a chicken being lifted by the neck, flapping its wings but unable to break free.

Seeing that the Steward’s Hall people were serious, his followers cowered and dared not step forward.

The lead steward turned to Song Qian Ji, putting on a polite smile: “You don’t need to go receive tasks anymore.”

Song Qian Ji nodded, seeing that Xu Yun had already spoken to the Steward’s Hall.

The Steward’s Hall could no longer trouble him. At least on the surface, they wouldn’t make things difficult or leave any evidence or handles against him.

As for what Zhao Yu Ping might do in secret, what other methods he might have, that was another matter.

The lead steward opened a storage pouch: “Steward Zhao says that there were some misunderstandings between us before. He knows you’ve been tidying up your courtyard recently and specially instructed us to prepare some modest gifts. Please accept them.”

Tables, chairs, beds, wardrobes, pots, bowls, ladles, and all sorts of miscellaneous household items were taken out like flowing water, piling up like a small mountain in the courtyard.

Song Qian Ji feigned gratitude: “Much obliged.”

The lead steward was pleased by his understanding and exchanged a few more pleasantries.

The atmosphere was suddenly harmonious, with smiles and laughter all around.

Zhao Ji Heng was furious: “What on earth are you doing!”

His recliner was mixed in with a pile of brand-new furniture, as if he had truly come to deliver gifts.

It was ridiculous.

No one paid him any attention. Zhao Ji Heng was escorted out by a group of stewards.

He had never suffered such humiliation before, and to make matters worse, Song Qian Ji was leaning against the door, smiling:

“Since you’ve come all this way, why not stay for a cup of tea before leaving?”

“Song Qian Ji, I X your grandfather! Don’t you dare get smug!”

Zhao Ji Heng was cursing with vulgar language learned from the brothels at the foot of the mountain. Zhou Xiao Yun and the others had never heard such words, their faces reddening as they couldn’t come up with a retort.

His loud curses resounded through the forest.

Disciples from other residences who were preparing to go to work stopped at the door of “Song Yuan” upon hearing the commotion, pointing and watching the spectacle:

“Hey, has Song Lu stirred up trouble again?”

Even after the group of stewards disappeared, Zhao Ji Heng’s foul language could still be faintly heard.

With a crisp “snap,” Meng He Ze, gritting his teeth, broke the armrest of his wheelchair.

Song Qian Ji’s expression remained unchanged.

People, unable to see any reaction of shame or anger from him, found it uninteresting and were about to disperse and go about their work.

Suddenly, a commotion arose, dust billowing at the end of the mountain path. A group of Disciplinary Hall disciples in black robes and white tall hats came charging ferociously.

The leader shouted Song Qian Ji’s name, startling birds along the way, and in an instant, they arrived at the courtyard gate.

People immediately gathered back with their friends:

“The Steward’s Hall people just left, and now the Disciplinary Hall is here?”

“Even if I miss work today, I must see this drama to the end!”

Zhou Xiao Yun and the others were at a loss, a sense of melancholy and bitterness arising spontaneously. Why was such a good person as Senior Brother Song in such a precarious situation?

But they heard Song Qian Ji ask with a smile: “What brings you here?”

Qiu Da Cheng, panting, said: “Urgent matter, Brother Song, please help us!”

Xu Kan Shan added: “Brother Qian Ji, you must testify for us! I’ve bet fifty spirit stones on this!”

Song Qian Ji already knew these two were gamblers.

Having gone to the main peak together once, they claimed he had good luck and pestered him to join them at the gambling house to make money.

The group of outer sect disciples looked on in confusion.

“Don’t collude!” Someone stepped out from among the Disciplinary Hall disciples. “Let me ask!”

The matter was simple. Encountering the legendary “Number One Beauty in the Cultivation World” was less likely than finding a top-grade magical artifact on the road, enough to boast about for ten years, with even one day less considered a huge loss.

After returning to the Disciplinary Hall, Qiu Da Cheng and Xu Kan Shan had boasted extravagantly. Unfortunately, no one believed them.

“If Fairy Miao Yan came, where is her black gold carriage?”

The black gold carriage emits a crimson glow when flying, dyeing the layers of clouds as it passes, like a raging fire burning, black gold setting in the west.

“She didn’t take her carriage. It was Chen Ba—I mean, Senior Sister Chen who escorted her out. I guess she stayed at Senior Sister Chen’s Wuyou Palace and perhaps hasn’t left yet!”

“Keep making things up!” The crowd still didn’t believe them: “Who can testify?”

Five people were on the bridge at that time, and the only ones who could testify for them were Chen Hong Zhu and Song Qian Ji.

Unless they had lost interest in living, they wouldn’t dare confront Chen the Tyrant for verification.

The two could only seek out Song Qian Ji, bringing along a group of people and their hope of winning the bet.

That Disciplinary Hall disciple sized up Song Qian Ji: “That night on Flowing Water Bridge, did you encounter Fairy Miao Yan?”

The moment the words “Fairy Miao Yan” were uttered, like some sort of spell, the area around Song Yuan’s gate immediately fell silent.

Countless eyes lit up.

Song Qian Ji’s smile faded slightly: “Yes.”

The residential area erupted. Shouts and gasps rose one after another, looks of astonishment threatening to pierce through Song Qian Ji.

Qiu Da Cheng and Xu Kan Shan, enjoying everyone’s envy, floated with excitement:

“Tell them quickly, how beautiful Fairy Miao Yan was, so beautiful she didn’t look real!”

Song Qian Ji thought for a moment: “She was okay.”

Compared to his previous life, Miao Yan’s reputation was now at its peak, untested by hardships, her eyes free of complex calculations, her brows still retaining a trace of innocent naivety.

“Just about the same as you all,” Song Qian Ji added, looking at the expectant gazes of the crowd.

He felt he was being objective and honest, but others didn’t think so, as if they had heard some kind of joke:

“Huh? What are you saying?”

“Are you speaking human language?”

“How could the great Fairy Miao Yan be merely ‘okay,’ how could she be ‘about the same’ as ordinary people?”

A group of people said they had seen a “fake Miao Yan,” which was an insult to Miao Yan. Qiu and Xu argued vehemently, debating against the masses.

As for Song Qian Ji, he began to be frantically criticized:

“Fairy Miao Yan cultivates the Celestial Sound Technique, with extremely high talent, building her foundation at just fourteen.

“Her appearance is flawless, with skin like ice and bones like jade, ethereal and transcendent, making people forget the mundane upon seeing her.

“The music she composes, every piece a golden chapter, is sung throughout the entire cultivation world. Surely you must know this?”

Song Qian Ji: “Oh.”

The person was infuriated by his perfunctory attitude, falling backward: “Oh? I’ve been talking all this time until my lips are chapped, and all you say is ‘oh’?”

With that, he grabbed Song Qian Ji’s sleeve: “Today you must make it clear, what exactly does Fairy Miao Yan look like!”

Song Qian Ji raised his eyes.

Meeting his cold gaze, the person suddenly lost his voice and instinctively withdrew his hand.

Song Qian Ji stood up. The spring breeze swept across the trembling branches, and flower petals fell all over him.

Spring should be the season for planting; what you sow is what you reap.

He was willing to seriously do the most boring thing in the world amidst the gorgeous spring scenery.

Except for talking about Miao Yan.

Because there was nothing worth discussing about Miao Yan.

Song Qian Ji turned and left, leaving only a sneer:

“Rouge-covered skull, what’s so great about you.”

The vermilion courtyard gate closed mercilessly, the bronze rings reverberating.

Everyone outside was dumbfounded.

“…He, he insulted Fairy Miao Yan? He’s changed!” An outer sect disciple exclaimed in shock. “I remember when he first came up the mountain, he also said ‘a wife should be like Fairy Miao Yan’!”

“This isn’t called changing, this is called going insane.”

“They say he injured his sword-wielding right arm saving Meng He Ze and gave up the outer sect examination. Now it seems…” The speaking disciple broke down in a shout, “he’s damaged his brain!”

Those angry gazes turned to sympathy:

“So young, and already like this.”

Meng He Ze defended loudly: “Senior Brother Song must have his reasons for saying so!”

Little did Song Qian Ji know that from today onward, his reputation for “not distinguishing beauty” and being “face-blind” would follow him for the rest of his life.