“That little girl, you, do you… know how to cook?”

Qiqian’er stood in the snow looking at Master’s Wife Cheng. She had never dealt with people like the ones on that wall before, and she had no idea how deep their world went.

She had always kept away from them, not out of fear exactly, but because she felt these people surely had a thousand-foot chasm behind them—one she could never get a grip on.

They weren’t like her. Though they both read books, she read the Classics and Histories, while these people read the kind of books where “hares rise and crows sink.”

“Hares rise, crows sink” was a phrase from the Thirty-Six Forms of Moon Virtue. Originally the phrase simply meant the moon rising and the sun setting, but here it meant something else entirely.

The True Scripture of Cultivation and Harmony and the Thirty-Six Forms of Moon Virtue spoke of things like opening the breath and training the membrane first, controlling energy and connecting the acupoints as the main practice, circulating energy through the noon and midnight hours, harmonizing upward with the kidneys, drawing it into the dantian, one thought standing in for ten thousand… and things like pressing the tongue to the palate, bare feet condensing power… and densely packed, over three hundred meridian points—Yangbai, Yintang, Shenmen, Hegu…

She recognized every single character, but the meaning was something only people like the one on the wall could understand.

It was like how the Buddha divided the underworld into countless paths after death—every path spoke human language, but each path was different.

Master’s Wife Cheng’s face was a mess of embarrassment as she lay sprawled on top of the wall, watching the young woman below. Her martial brother was hosting a banquet today for his colleagues from the Medicine Storehouse, and as the future department head, he naturally needed to smooth out his relationships up and down the ranks—so he’d asked her to cook a sheep?

And he’d handed her a huge pile of seasonings she recognized, but which ran completely counter to everything she’d ever learned?

Only housewives like the young woman below called medicinal herbs “seasonings.”

Her master had told her when she was six: Sichuan pepper governs wind-evil energy, warms the middle, dispels cold-dampness blockages, treats throat obstruction, reversal vomiting, hernia-like masses; it clears old blood, and when added can regulate postpartum residual illness and abdominal pain, treat aversion to wind, and untangle stubborn numbness in the four limbs…

And then there was dried tangerine peel, which mainly travels through the Spleen, Stomach, and Lung meridians. The Materia Medica Classic also said its pungency disperses, its bitterness purges, its warmth moves things through—so it brings down rebellious qi, stops vomiting and coughing, and clears fullness in the chest…

Her martial brother didn’t know how to cook either—he too treated Sichuan pepper as a spice-and-medicine, and yet here he was, of all people, putting her on the spot.

Thinking of her brother’s pleading eyes—he had never once asked anything of her before—she thought, it’s just one meal, how hard could it be?

She’d agreed on the spot without hesitation, feeling that for her brother’s sake she’d climb a mountain of blades or leap into a sea of fire.

But then—how was she supposed to put Sichuan pepper, its function completely reversed, into a stew? How could she coax the maximum medicinal potency out of the mutton that way?

No, no! That was wrong again—she was supposed to season it to bring out fragrance instead?

That was more terrifying than the mountain of blades and the sea of fire. She didn’t know how! Her whole mind felt like a fog, her hands trembled as she picked up the herbs, and this house didn’t even have a proper scale—how was she supposed to manage?

The two women stared at each other for a long while before Qiqian’er finally gave Master’s Wife Cheng a small bow and said, “Minor kitchen skills—of course I know them.”

Master’s Wife Cheng lit up with delight. “Then—little girl! Can you help me?”

Qiqian’er pressed her lips together and smiled. “No!”

Master’s Wife Cheng was shocked. “Why not?”

Qiqian’er just smiled and said nothing, because—you showed up that day and put me in a bad mood, so why should I help you?

If I help you, you won’t even think well of me for it. Help once, and there’ll be a second time, a third time… and eventually I’ll turn into your family’s cook. Then the one time I can’t make it, I’ll end up offending you instead. Do I look like I’ve got nothing better to do than be your kitchen maid? I’m a Rank Six Lady of Peace!

Rank Six!!

Master’s Wife Cheng had no idea Qiqian’er’s mind was racing through all this—she really wasn’t thinking anything so complicated. She just smoothed down her disheveled hair, and with one bound landed on top of the wall, leaving Qiqian’er staring in a daze.

Master Cheng is such a gentle, cultured man, she thought privately, however did he end up marrying a monkey? The gate’s right there—why jump back and forth like that? This woman’s brain must be scrambled… how do people like them jump so high? If I learned that True Scripture of Cultivation and Harmony, could I jump like that too? Actually, come to think of it, that wouldn’t be bad—if An’er ran into danger someday, I could go protect him more easily… running across rooftops sure beats going the long way around.

The once-renowned “Soul-Stealer” of the martial world, Su Bailǐ, sat perfectly still atop the wall.

How do I get this little girl to agree? she thought. What if I slip her some medicine, make her submit? No, no good—I swore an oath to my martial brother that if I stayed by his side, I’d become a virtuous, well-behaved wife…

A good wife doesn’t poison people!

The snow kept falling harder. Qiqian’er couldn’t leave, couldn’t stay, and just as she’d reached the limit of her patience and was about to turn and walk away, the person on the wall finally couldn’t hold back either.

“Little girl, is your hair growing in well?”

Well? Is that a joke at my expense? It had been so long her scalp practically had a shine to it, and it was only getting shinier!

Not a single strand had grown!

Her heart seethed with grief.

Qiqian’er turned furiously and started to walk away.

Su Bailǐ quickly leapt down to block her path, smiling. “How about we make a deal?”

Whoa! People—people can actually fly?!

Oh, right, come to think of it, that Eunuch Liao could fly too. He’d shoot off and—crack—that would be that for whoever he hit…

Done for!

Qiqian’er forced down her shock, blinked, and asked, “A deal?”

Master’s Wife Cheng laughed softly. “Girl, don’t take this the wrong way, but the way you’re fumbling around on your own like a headless fly every day—you’d do better to just ask me. Otherwise you’ll never grow hair in this lifetime. I happen to be a physician, and I won’t lie to you—you could drink a whole vat of the hair-growing powders and pills sold out there and it wouldn’t do a thing. So, how about a trade? One question answered, in exchange for you cooking us a meal?”

Ask away, ask away. My Bai Stone Mountain has plenty of lineage—give you just two techniques and you’d never stop growing hair.

Whatever mood Qiqian’er was in now, what she hated most was being pressured by others.

One meal? I’m not your family’s cook.

She shot back sarcastically, “No need. My family has its own methods! I may just be a little girl, but at least I can keep myself fed and not starve to death. And here you are, looking every bit the fine lady—tsk, what a shame. Then again, Master’s Wife Cheng clearly comes from a different background—why bother begging me? Doesn’t your household have a maid to wait on you? Where is she today? Just have your servant do it!”

At this, Master’s Wife Cheng’s expression turned strange. She rolled her eyes, tilted her head back, and muttered, “I can’t afford her anymore—once was enough…”

Before she could finish muttering, another head popped up over the wall—the round-faced little maid who used to serve at Master’s Wife Cheng’s side, explaining very seriously: “Last time she wanted to put on airs and pretend to be some noble lady! She’s not a noble lady! And I’m not her maid—I’m, I’m her Junior Martial Aunt… I don’t know how to cook mutton either, or I’d take this deal myself!”

Qiqian’er looked at Master’s Wife Cheng, then at this very solemn little girl, and felt everything around her spiral into confusion.

The people living next door are a whole nest of trouble!

The little girl finished speaking and simply flipped down off the wall—clearly not one for using doors either.

She walked up to Qiqian’er and very earnestly tried to talk her out of it: “Don’t teach her. Teaching her is only hurting her—she’ll never learn it properly her whole life if you…”

The words weren’t wrong—proper, well-meaning advice.

Except before this little elder could finish her lecture, her stomach let out a loud growl.

The little girl clutched her stomach, and in an instant her face twisted with grief. Still clutching her stomach, she rounded on Master’s Wife Cheng and scolded, “You unworthy descendant!”

Master’s Wife Cheng, helpless, didn’t dare argue with her starving Junior Martial Aunt. She could only bow and plead, “My fault, all my fault! Just bear with it a little longer, food’s coming soon.”

The little girl thought, well, I am the elder here after all, so she could only endure her, indulge her, tolerate her, raise her properly… With that, she sighed faintly at Master’s Wife Cheng, then turned and fixed her eyes pleadingly on Qiqian’er.

She added, “Our family’s in disarray. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

An eleven- or twelve-year-old girl, talking like a world-weary old sage from head to toe—it was almost too endearing.

Qiqian’er couldn’t help but laugh. Small children always got away with things, and Qiqian’er had always had a soft spot for kids. She asked, smiling, “How did you get this hungry? Doesn’t your family keep any dry rations on hand? You’re at the age for growing—how did you used to eat?”

The Junior Martial Aunt said, aggrieved, “We used to get food from Xiao Wanning’s own kitchen, but they shut down today, so there’s nothing to eat from now on.”

The little girl finished, looking thoroughly regretful, then added, “Your house smells so good every day, the smell drifts all the way over here.”

Poor thing.

Qiqian’er laughed softly. “Well, my apologies for that. I’ll make sure to keep the pot lid on tight starting tomorrow.”

The little girl sighed. “It’s nothing, it’s all my—hm. My family just doesn’t discipline well, ai! One generation worse than the last, all around. Sorry for the trouble we’ve caused you.”

What now—this is getting entertaining.

Qiqian’er stood there thinking it over for a good while, and eventually gave herself an excuse to say yes: even if she and Master Cheng weren’t close, he had shown her kindness across two lifetimes now, cough, forget it… a bald head really was a nagging worry, and this little girl wasn’t unlikeable either. She’d help.

With that thought, she looked up at Master’s Wife Cheng and said, “Then! I want one of those little acupuncture figures physicians keep…”

“An acupuncture figure?” the two of them asked in unison. Then Master’s Wife Cheng laughed. “You mean a bronze meridian figure? What, didn’t your elders ever teach you the meridians?”

Qiqian’er stuck her neck out and huffed. “Of course they did! It’s just been so long I forgot! That’s the thing, a bronze meridian figure—will you give it to me or not? If one meal isn’t enough, I’ll cover you ten days of meals. Deal?”

Never let people you’re not close to see what you’re really made of.

It wasn’t an unreasonable request. The Junior Martial Aunt’s eyes lit up, and she immediately tugged at her martial-niece’s skirt hem. “Give her my wooden one!!”

Her stomach growled wildly again as she finished speaking.

Master’s Wife Cheng sighed inwardly and flicked her on the forehead. “Honestly, you still think our family’s like it used to be. Whatever you want is just a word away for you—do you think if you don’t ask, people will still come running to please you? It’s just a few meals! We only brought out this one thing from home—she loses a few strands of hair, that’s all, and you think it’s worth giving that away for that?”

The Junior Martial Aunt held her head and sighed. “It’s been what, a few days, and you already dare to hit me—not even checking someone’s pulse to find the cause before making promises on your own, you unworthy descendant!”

Master’s Wife Cheng quickly waved her hands. “Yes, yes, I was wrong! When she didn’t bring a proper attendant with her that day, I should’ve noticed—I suppose whoever brought her here to gain this chance left in a hurry and didn’t explain things properly. She was so young when she learned the meridians, she’s probably forgotten most of it. It’s really no big deal—you, well, our family’s bronze figure, you’d just give it away like that… aren’t you afraid our ancestors will crawl up from the ground and give you a beating?”

The Junior Martial Aunt, hearing herself being lectured, just shook her head, unbothered. “You lot! When our forebears first founded the mountain sect, there was no extra wealth to speak of. Xiao Yu, you’ve always let outside things distract you, which is why you’ve made no progress in all these years. You’re like this, my brother’s like this too, ai! Who would’ve thought—decades, generations of accumulated foundation, all wiped clean by unworthy descendants. You let material things distract you, dragged down the whole sect, and ending up like this today is just karma… Hmph! What’s one little bronze figure—giving it up is nothing…”

The Junior Martial Aunt’s head was abruptly covered by Master’s Wife Cheng’s hand.

Master’s Wife Cheng stroked it gently a few times, still smiling, though the smile was clearly strained. “Yes, we all understand now. If we’d listened to you sooner, we wouldn’t be in this mess today. We admit our fault. Don’t be upset, all right?”

The Junior Martial Aunt let out a long breath, not wanting to talk to Master’s Wife Cheng anymore, and instead turned to Qiqian’er with an elder’s air of apology. “In the end we’re troubling you, young lady. This martial-niece of mine really can’t manage anything properly.”

Qiqian’er held back a laugh and waved it off. “It’s nothing, nothing at all! Just a few meals.”

Right. A few meals. Whatever chaos you people have going on, please, leave me out of it.

She’d originally planned to go straight to Master Cheng’s house to give a few pointers, but Master’s Wife Cheng told her to wait.

And so, Qiqian’er wandered home in a daze, and before long heard someone calling to her from the courtyard.

When she came out to the yard, she was startled to see Master’s Wife Cheng holding a dressed sheep in one hand, and in the other a cutting board piled high with all sorts of seasonings you couldn’t buy outside, along with rare cuts of ginger and scallion.

Master’s Wife Cheng was manageable enough—it was the Junior Martial Aunt behind her that was somewhat alarming.

An eleven- or twelve-year-old girl, carrying with one hand an enormous iron pot still bubbling away, full of hot water.

The kind of pot that could cook a whole sheep, holding at least several tan of water inside…

What—what kind of hand is that? An iron hand? Doesn’t it burn?

Qiqian’er was so shocked her whole body swayed. Her mind kept spinning—how did she get here? How? However did she manage it…

She looked at the two of them, then at the courtyard wall, swallowed hard, forced herself to maintain some dignity, and turned to lift the door curtain, saying, “Come in, quickly.”

The two of them carried the sheep and hoisted the pot into the main room.

Pine branches crackled in a roaring fire. In the main hall, Master’s Wife Cheng and the Junior Martial Aunt sat on two small stools, chins propped in their hands, watching Qiqian’er with utter admiration in their eyes.

What a master!

This young woman was incredible—she didn’t even use a scale, just reached out and grabbed exactly the right amount every time.

Their own skill at measuring out herbs was just as sharp, but that came from years of solid training, expert instruction, generations of family tradition and secret techniques—and here was this young woman, so skilled, so decisive, so…

Growwwl…

Master’s Wife Cheng and the Junior Martial Aunt found themselves clutching their stomachs in unison.

Qiqian’er shook her head helplessly, went into the inner room, grabbed a basket of dried taro the old lady kept hidden, and handed it to this pair of—she wasn’t even sure what to call them—aunt and niece?

Master’s Wife Cheng took the food gratefully, no longer putting on airs, and sat right there with her Junior Martial Aunt eating. Who knew how many meals they’d missed—either way, not a trace of “noble lady” left in how they ate.

In no time at all, the seasoning was mixed in. Qiqian’er measured out the salt on the cutting board precisely, put it into a coarse porcelain bowl, then looked up and smiled at them. “Done! Take it home. Once you’re back, check it—when it’s about right, pour in the salt, stir it evenly, and let it simmer on low heat for about two hours. That’s it. By the time Master Cheng gets home, you can lift the lid right on cue…”

“What counts as ‘about right’?”

“How do we stir it evenly—with a wooden spoon, or metal? Please, young lady, be precise. How many times to the left, how many to the right?”

The first question came from the Junior Martial Aunt; the long-winded second one came from Master’s Wife Cheng.

What kind of people are these? How do they even function in life?

Qiqian’er was genuinely amused. She slapped the cutting board and scolded, “How can you be this hopeless! This is cooking, not brewing medicine! A wooden spoon works, an iron one works too, whatever you like—if you can’t find anything, aren’t you not afraid of getting burned? Stir it with your hands, nobody’s going to say anything!

“‘About right’—er, about right… just fish out a piece of meat and bite into it. If it’s tender, you can add the salt. Stir evenly, stir evenly… fine, thirty strokes scraping the bottom on the left, thirty on the right, then thirty full circles clockwise with the spoon, and another thirty counterclockwise. Understand now?”

This time, they truly understood.

The pair stood and bowed to Qiqian’er very solemnly in thanks.

Seeing the Junior Martial Aunt looked pitiful, Qiqian’er went back inside and got a few coarse-grain buns, stuffing them into her arms. “Junior Martial Aunt, take these to fill your stomach for now. Tomorrow, if you’re hungry, just come find me… it’s no trouble!”

She’s still just a child, after all.

The little girl took the food, tilted her head up and studied Qiqian’er for a long while, then said very seriously, “You! Would you take me as your teacher?”

That single sentence nearly frightened the departing Master’s Wife Cheng, who was carrying the pot outside, to death.

Luckily Qiqian’er immediately shook her head and refused. “No, no good! Me, your junior? Do I look like I’ve got nothing better to do? I don’t want anyone in charge of me, thanks. Junior Martial Aunt, you’d better go straighten out these two martial-nieces of yours first, so you don’t end up going hungry again.”

The Junior Martial Aunt explained very earnestly, “There’s only one martial-nephew—A’Ning paid to study under our outer sect, he’s not easy to order around… ai, and now he’s also a son-in-law, so a son-in-law can only be coaxed, even harder to order around!”

Hm? Though she didn’t quite follow, Qiqian’er still nodded seriously. “Understood. Then Junior Martial Aunt, do straighten out that useless female disciple of yours. Honestly! Look how she’s starved us elders…”

A loud cough sounded from the doorway. Qiqian’er held back a laugh and saw the two of them out—this time she’d gotten quite an eyeful.

Truly—rooftop, weak little woman flying with a pot!

That night, Qiqian’er carried the meal basket over to deliver food to the old lady.

At the gate, she glanced next door. The chimney over Madam Qiao’s roof was cold—no fire lit, it seemed.

Even at this hour? Hmph, probably thinking her husband’s home now, so she doesn’t need to be so dutiful.

Whatever. I’ll just make a portion for the old lady myself.

Qiqian’er pushed open the gate and called out that she’d arrived.

Once she entered the main hall, the old lady still wouldn’t let her in—it seemed the accounts between mother and son still hadn’t been settled.

A middle-aged man’s hoarse sobbing carried out to the outer room, impossible to muffle.

Qiqian’er didn’t want to witness an elder being scolded, so she called out loudly that she was heading back.

The old lady answered from inside, saying she wouldn’t be coming over tonight either.

Qiqian’er’s heart ached for her, but there was nothing to be done.

She went home alone, bolted the courtyard gate, returned to the main hall stove, and by herself lit the fire, ate a meal, and washed the pot…

By the time the world outside was blanketed completely in white, she sat alone before the stove pit, no candle lit, hugging her knees and watching the firewood flicker on and off.

The noise from next door was loud—voices urging drinks, laughter and chatter, and… Master Cheng was even singing loudly in front of everyone. Listening closely, one moment it was the Book of Songs, the next a pharmacology text, and then—incense-blending formulas?

Master Cheng really is a man of deep learning!

A log popped loudly in the stove.

Qiqian’er composed herself and kept watching, thinking, how long has it been since I’ve been alone? Have I actually grown afraid of being by myself? How silly of me.

She laughed at herself softly, and just then a small voice asked from the doorway, “You’re clearly not happy, so why are you smiling?”

Qiqian’er jumped, looked up, and saw it was the Junior Martial Aunt, holding a figure wrapped in red cloth. She had no idea when the girl had arrived—she was simply standing in the doorway, watching her.

Qiqian’er smiled and stood, asking, “Have you eaten?”

A full stomach always makes for a good mood.

The Junior Martial Aunt came in cradling the bronze meridian figure, her tone soft, apologetic. “This is A’Ning’s meridian figure. He doesn’t need it anymore, so it’s yours now.”

The bronze figure hit the ground with a dull thud.

Qiqian’er meant to thank her, but the Junior Martial Aunt asked again, “I can see you’re not happy. So why smile? You could cry quietly—no one would see.”

Qiqian’er let out a long breath, slowly crouched down, and stroked the little girl’s head the way one would a child. “You did see, didn’t you! Junior Martial Aunt, remember this—there’s too much in this world that won’t go your way. Of all the feelings—joy, anger, sorrow, delight—there’s one you must never learn.”

The little girl tilted her head. “Which one?”

Qiqian’er pinched her cheek. “Don’t cry! Don’t ever pick up that habit! Crying only makes you weak. It does nothing for whatever hardship you’re facing except make you look more pathetic. So—the harder things get, the more we ought to smile! Understand?”

The Junior Martial Aunt thought about it seriously, then looked up. “Mm! Well said! You—you’re right!”

With that, the not-quite-grown girl suddenly broke into a bright, easy grin.

After smiling, she bowed solemnly to Qiqian’er in thanks.

Having thanked her, she left with a cheerful smile.

The courtyard fell quiet again, the air cold, snowflakes rustling softly as they fell…

Qiqian’er reached for a candle, lit it, and carried it over to the bronze figure, pulling back the red cloth in one motion.

After a long moment, Qiqian’er sighed softly. “So this is where you all live!”

Huo Qiqian, fifteen years old—but if you counted everything from her previous life as well, the person living inside her heart was practically an old woman pushing a hundred.

An experienced elder has her own way of seeing everything in the world. And such people, quite bluntly, tend to feel that others—not having lived as many years—naturally understand less than they do.

Qiqian’er was exactly this sort of person. She was confident. Even having lived to this point, it was only now that she realized just how much there was to the human body—she’d known about meridians and acupoints before, but never that there was this much to them. Only now, put all together, did these things form a complete person.

Ever since Eunuch Liao had given her those two books, she’d read them over and over, no fewer than a hundred times, and worked out her own understanding based purely on the text.

Yes—her own understanding. Just as no one had ever given her private lessons before, and she’d learned by repetition, by memorizing on her own, this was how she’d worked through these two manuals as well.

On top of that, back at the Plague God Temple that day, someone named Gu Hongyun had told her that if she found a bronze figure and followed the transmitted method correctly, practicing would simply work.

Gu Hongyun assumed Qiqian’er’s family must have had a proper lineage; the aunt-and-niece pair next door thought the same.

Who would dare attempt something as reckless as forcibly opening one’s meridians and pouring energy into the crown, without a shred of explanation, unless their family truly had a solid tradition behind them?

And so, each of them quietly filled in a family history for Qiqian’er in their own minds, invented a lineage story for her.

Others thought this way, but so did Qiqian’er herself, in her own fashion! She had absolutely no idea how dangerous this was, no idea what she was actually doing.

To her, it was simply: I’ll practice this, and tomorrow my hair will grow.

That’s right—she was doing all this purely to grow hair.

The True Scripture of Cultivation and Harmony said one must stand barefoot on the earth to feel the earth’s true energy.

The scripture also said it must be done at noon or midnight—well, noon had passed, so now, at night, only midnight remained.

Deep in the night at the midnight hour, Qiqian’er took off her shoes and stood barefoot, trying to sense it. She stood a long while, feet growing numb with cold, feeling nothing at all. Then she thought—maybe sensing it meant pulling that energy up first, only then could she feel it?

In her previous life, this woman had spent so long sitting still before ancestral tablets that entering stillness came to her instantly, mind wiped clean of distraction.

And so she quickly settled into stillness, thinking: I’ll pull a mouthful of primal energy up from the earth and feel it, feel it, feel it… there!

Then, following the meridians laid out in the books…

A wisp of energy rising from the ground was truly sensed by her, drawn up to the soles of her feet, merging there with the energy she’d always carried within her own body.

Then these two strands of energy merged into one and began circulating, dutifully, along the meridian pathways marked on the bronze figure and in the texts…

So naturally, so matter-of-factly.

The energy kept growing, gradually turning into something strange—first it moved as heat starting from the left foot, then as a cold current starting from the right? Qiqian’er had no idea why the energy was changing like this; she simply assumed it was meant to be that way.

Though the two energies differed, following the method of the True Scripture, they had their own order, circulating round and round without interfering with each other.

Next door, the drinking carried on into the deep night before guests began to leave.

Qiqian’er could hear the noise clearly enough, but it didn’t distract her in the slightest.

In this moment, she felt happy, joyful, delighted.

She couldn’t say why she felt this way—she just sensed a strange vitality spreading through her body, a vitality that was balanced, harmonious, entirely under her control—like fertile soil meeting a seed, the seed meeting water, the season turning just right, and the sapling sprouting, poking its head up slowly from the earth, and then—pop—

The world let out a small, joyful hum, then another, softer sigh.

Qiqian’er knew she’d made some small sounds herself—not that it mattered.

Next door, meanwhile, the Junior Martial Aunt sat cross-legged on her cushion, nodding to herself. “Family tradition, sure enough!”

…The seed became a sapling, the sapling put out tendrils, the tendrils grew full with green leaves, and under just the right gentle rain and breeze, moist and nourished, the sapling began to shoot upward, taller and taller, sturdier and sturdier…

Qiqian’er couldn’t see herself, had no idea that her body was alternately steaming with heat and coated in frost.

She was, after all, a woman raised entirely within the inner household, someone who knew nothing of the martial world, nothing of the wandering warriors’ realm, who’d never even heard the term “unrivaled martial arts.” She had no idea what she was doing.

Oh, she knew what she thought she was doing: practicing a technique to grow hair.

She had walked, alone, down a cultivation path no one before her had ever walked—and yet, true to form, things did not go smoothly.

Like a bladder being filled again and again with mouthfuls of the earth’s primal energy—though Eunuch Liao had widened her meridians for her once—those meridians still had their limits.

And so, it grew unbearable.

It was probably deep into the second half of the night when Qiqian’er began to feel a tightness in her chest, as though the bottom of a lotus pond were choked with silt, with nowhere for it to drain.

But by then there was no stopping it—the energy kept circulating round and round, and Qiqian’er understood clearly by now: if she kept drawing it in without releasing it, something terrible would happen to her…

Something terrible?

Something terrible!

What do I do?

She thought suddenly of the Thirty-Six Forms of Moon Virtue.

No wonder that old eunuch gave me two books—damn him, may he be struck by lightning! Why didn’t he say they had to be practiced together?! I only glanced at that book a few times—what did it even say?

Oh! “Hares rise, crows sink, right arm extends forward, left wrist twists back?” Energy flows to the fingers, hands and feet forming small circles…

Circle? Circle? Circle, circle, circle!

My body feels awful… I’m going to die, I’m going to explode… needs a circle, there has to be a circle! Right! There’s a big millstone at home… it’s round!

Qiqian’er had no idea where the strength came from—she just thought, I’ve endured decades of hardship, I’ve slipped free of the Register of Life and Death right out of King Yama’s hands, and I’m going to explode right here?

Not a chance!

And so, this singularly strange woman in all of heaven and earth, legs splayed wide and unable to draw them back together, staggered step by step out of the main hall, then trudged step by step through the snow to the mill house in the back courtyard.

It was an old official household—wherever there were people, there was grain to eat, and grain always had to be ground into flour.

This had originally been an old estate with over twenty servants. Who knew what the previous owner had been thinking—perhaps out of sheer stinginess, the millstone here wasn’t the animal-drawn kind, but a two-stone hand-turned mill, and an unusually large one at that.

Qiqian’er finally struggled her way there, her mind fixed on one thought—she needed to move, to release this somehow, needed to trace out one big circle to find relief. And so she flung herself forward, grabbed the handle bar of the millstone with both hands, and began turning it round and round.

And sure enough… it really was a circle!

Drawing a mouthful of primal energy from the earth through both soles of her feet, feeding it into her body to merge with the innate energy already there, letting yin and yang circulate through the meridians, nourishing the channels, hares rising and crows sinking, energy flowing through her entire body down to both hands, circle after circle gathering energy back into the body, round and round without end… When the sky finally brightened once more, the plague-stricken roosters in the village began screeching their hearts out again.

Qiqian’er slowly let go of the handle, opened her eyes, and thought: I did it!

Then—wait, what exactly did she “do”?

Whatever. Either way, she’d done it!

Finally, trembling, she reached up and touched the top of her head, and in an instant… her eyes welled up with tears.

Mother of mercy! Hair! Fuzzy little hairs, scratching against her hand!