“Fellow Daoist, are you looking for Song Qian Ji?” asked the rouge shop owner, using the alias Wang Tugen but whose real name was Hua Liu.

The woman didn’t speak, clutching the zither in her arms tightly, her fingertips turning slightly white.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not a bad person!” He revealed a simple and honest smile. “I just came out from Song Residence. Senior Brother Song is eating noodles. May I ask which sect you’re from, fairy, and what are you looking for Senior Brother Song for? I know him well and can help relay a message.”

The woman clearly didn’t believe him, refusing quietly but firmly: “That won’t be necessary.”

The shopkeeper Hua touched his face, thinking this person was too cautious, unlike Zhou Xiaoyun who was easier to fool earlier. Unfortunately, after his disguise, he looked poor and rustic, so it was no wonder his attempt at conversation was ignored.

He should have sent the rice shop assistant Xiao Mi instead. That boy was smooth-talking and habitually good at pleasing beautiful female cultivators.

As the “Overseas Cultivator’s Anti-Fraud Handbook” mentioned, the convenience of group fraud lies precisely in this: each person performs their duty, each displays their specialty, and if one fails, there’s always the next one.

He smiled and said goodbye, firmly memorizing her figure and attire.

He Qingqing faced the tightly closed red door of Song Residence, hesitating for a long time, raising her hand and then lowering it.

The night grew darker, the wind passed through the flower branches, and the moon rose over the western tower.

She sat hugging her knees by the bamboo fence, watching the garden balsam flowers blooming in the moonlight. Her posture was the same as last time, but her state of mind was very different.

Separated by just a door, Meng He Ze paced in the courtyard.

After his breakthrough, his five senses were stronger. He knew someone was waiting outside but instinctively didn’t want to open the door to deal with it.

Who knew it was just another person coming to trouble Senior Brother Song?

“Senior Brother Song, tomorrow I’ll be drawing lots.” Meng He Ze was a bit nervous. “Will I be able to succeed this time?”

Song Qian Ji was eating noodles and didn’t answer.

Early tomorrow morning, the drawing of lots for the Dengwen Elegant Gathering martial arts competition would begin. The prizes were abundant, the rules simple: paired combat, winners advance.

Meng He Ze didn’t need an answer at this moment, he just needed to express himself:

“I’ve been waiting for this day for too long. I left my hometown to pursue the immortal path, thinking I could enter the inner sect, but I’ve been stuck in the outer sect. I thought by working hard and cultivating diligently there would be a turning point, but the days never changed, and there was no end to the hardship. Until you and I were schemed against by Zhao Yu Ping, and together fell off the cliff… I don’t know what kind of life I would be living if not for Senior Brother. I must have done many good deeds in my past life to meet Senior Brother in this one.”

Song Qian Ji thought to himself, in my previous life, I never noticed that you, as the master of the evil path, were so sentimental.

Meng He Ze continued: “I need the opportunity of the Dengwen Elegant Gathering, I need the cultivation methods and resources offered as prizes. Countless people like me need them, but why are these things always held in other people’s hands? One day when I transcend, I’ll change the sun and moon, change heaven and earth, and let all cultivators in the world practice my cultivation methods, without having to give me spirit stones or do things for me!”

May I secure thousands of great mansions, to shelter all scholars from the cold, with smiles on their faces.

Song Qian Ji smiled and said: “When that time truly comes, even if you’re willing to share, you’ll still have your sect behind you, disciples under you, and clan descendants to support. Would they be willing to share?”

Meng He Ze thought, then I won’t have a sect, won’t accept disciples, won’t have descendants. Supporting Senior Brother would be enough.

“I don’t know who I’ll draw tomorrow… but it doesn’t matter who, it’ll be their bad luck! I’ll defeat all opponents and win the final victory.”

Before major life turning points and countless battles, no matter how boring or mindless your words are, you always hope someone can sit beside you and listen.

Even if they do nothing, say nothing.

Meng He Ze spoke with increasing excitement until Song Qian Ji finished his noodles and put down his chopsticks.

The sound of chopsticks lightly touching the bowl rim was like a paralyzing talisman.

He suddenly stopped, then skillfully cleared the bowls and chopsticks, and prepared a towel and clear tea for Song Qian Ji.

Song Qian Ji stood up, walked into the vegetable patch, and slightly bent down.

“Senior Brother Song, I’m sorry, I talked too much.” Meng He Ze was embarrassed. “…My mind isn’t normal tonight, don’t pay attention to me, I’ll go.”

“Wait.”

Song Qian Ji picked two potato flowers and handed one to Meng He Ze.

The small purple flower just plucked from its stem, still bore crystalline night dew. The petals were very thin, trembling in the wind.

Meng He Ze took it, a bit confused—should this potato flower be stir-fried or served cold? One flower wouldn’t be enough to eat.

“Senior Brother wants a late-night snack?”

Song Qian Ji was at a loss for words. In his previous life, he had no son, nor close friends. What do people say when wishing others well?

In the end, he only said: “Victory in every battle, may everything go smoothly.”

Meng He Ze was stunned, his eyes instantly brightening.

Song Qian Ji opened the door and walked out.

He Qingqing heard the movement and jumped up in fright: “Daoist Song! Am I, am I disturbing you here?”

Song Qian Ji responded, thinking to himself that she couldn’t disturb him at all, at most she might disturb his string bean sprouts.

He Qingqing lowered her head, stammering: “The zither piece you taught me, I’ve already mastered it. For the Dengwen Elegant Gathering zither competition, could you, could you come and listen to me play?”

She had sat desolately at Song Residence’s entrance for a long time, just to gather the courage to ask this one question.

“If I have time, I’ll go.”

Song Qian Ji thought, that if the fieldwork was finished, it wouldn’t hurt to listen.

After all, this was the first time he had composed a piece.

The young woman suddenly became excited: “Great! I’ll definitely…” She wanted to say she would win the championship but then felt it was inappropriate to speak so assuredly, seeming arrogant and proud, so she only said, “I’ll play very well!”

Song Qian Ji handed the other potato flower to her.

“What’s this?” He Qingqing was dumbfounded.

“For you.”

“For me?!”

No one had ever given her flowers before. Although it looked very thin and unremarkable, like a wildflower from the fields.

“Yes, wishing you success.” Song Qian Ji said, “Go back now.”

Once these two people left, he could lean back in his chair and enjoy the leisure time of the night.

He Qingqing carefully cradled the potato flower, walking on the pitch-black mountain path.

Many years later, people would eagerly send her flowers, and she would possess almost all the rarities in the world.

Yet no one would know what flower she liked best.

****

Late at night, a solitary lamp on the table, dimly glowing like a bean.

Eleven people sat around a round table, faces dejected, the atmosphere tense.

Suddenly a young man entered the door, and everyone immediately stood up, surrounding him with full expectation:

“Xiao Mi, you finally came back! Did you see that female cultivator’s true face? What does she look like?”

“How was it? What did you get out of that female cultivator?”

“Why did Song Qian Ji give her a zither, what’s their relationship?”

The rice shop assistant named Xiao Mi sat down heavily, pounding the table: “Don’t mention it, I saw nothing!”

“How can this be?!” The shopkeeper Hua who had disguised himself as “Wang Tugen” during the day was greatly surprised. “Are there still female cultivators who don’t like rich and handsome young men?”

“Yes, I’m so young and handsome, dressed richly, with an eager attitude, yet she ignored me and even scolded me? Told me to get lost, or she would report to the dormitory supervisor. This job is impossible! This isn’t a job for humans. There are no normal people around that Song Qian Ji!” Xiao Mi was very aggrieved.

The pawnshop assistant Xiao Zhuo rolled his eyes, muttering: “All looks, no substance. Should have sent me instead.”

“But she must have a deep relationship with Song Qian Ji. So our next plan will change temporarily, becoming a beauty trap.” The pawnshop owner suggested. “Not the cold and transcendent type like Miao Yan, but a pitiful little white flower.”

Shopkeeper Hua Liu opened “Duo Qing Zi Teaches You Various Fraud Techniques”—no, the “Overseas Cultivator’s Anti-Fraud Handbook”—to the beauty trap section, asking everyone to read carefully:

Throwing oneself into another’s arms is too low-level, such acts cannot be done this way.

A beauty in distress seeking rescue, feigning retreat to advance is truly clever.

Everyone pooled their wisdom, expressing their views. After half the night passed, they finally settled on a plan.

“Step one, lure the snake out of its hole. Step two, retreat in order to advance. Step three, offer oneself in marriage. Does anyone have questions?” asked the rouge shop owner Hua.

The pawnshop owner asked: “The question is, who will play the distressed little white flower?”

Shopkeeper Hua became angry: “Don’t all look at me, why is it me again? Can’t we really find a woman?”

“I’m a woman, do you think I’d work?” The blacksmith’s shop Zhang Tiejiang patted her sturdy arms.

Everyone quickly shook their heads:

“That Song Qian Ji has thin arms and legs, wouldn’t you break him with one twist!”

“Old Hua, your disguise technique is the most skillful, just go once more. We’ll perform as props, providing support at any time.”

“Yes, practice makes perfect, this one more time won’t matter!”

Shopkeeper Hua gritted his teeth, with double meaning: “I’ll go.”

After nightfall, Flying Cloud Tower was brightly lit.

The academy principal presented a thin piece of paper: “This is their progress today. Shopkeeper Hua failed in his mission and was driven out of Song Residence. Their next plan is to use a beauty trap.”

The Calligraphy Saint read it with great interest, then slapped the table and laughed heartily.

The principal quietly probed: “Was this intentional on your part?”

“You figured it out?” The Calligraphy Saint smiled. “No matter whom this old man chooses as a disciple, they would accept. After I’m gone, if they have ten parts of strength, they would use all ten to assist him. But ten isn’t enough—only a successor they truly respect from the heart would risk their lives to give twelve parts… This year, Wei Ping has been deceiving and swindling all over, taking many good things from their hands. But that boy Wei Ping is indeed likable. Though they don’t say it, they already have some favoritism in their hearts.”

The principal suddenly understood: “Only if Song Qian Ji can endure this, can he truly win over these people.”

The Calligraphy Saint nodded. These people each had their specialties and different temperaments. Usually, the black shops were distributed across the four continents, forming a network of information. When needed, these people gathered together, forming a protective network.

He couldn’t accompany his disciple to grow into a powerful figure, so he had to leave some backups for his disciple.

The Calligraphy Saint sighed: “I haven’t inquired about Qingya Academy matters for a very long time.”

The principal immediately prostrated himself, solemnly saying: “The academy will always be your academy!”

The Calligraphy Saint helped him up with a laugh: “It has nothing to do with you.”

Any organization, as it grows larger, inevitably becomes harder to control and splits into many factions, no longer of one heart and one mind. His control over the academy was no longer as strong as when he was young. The academy members respected his power, treating him as a spiritual faith, but they might not be willing to go through fire and water for the successor he had chosen.

The Calligraphy Saint pushed open the window, his gaze piercing through the starry sky, across the heavy night mist, looking toward the back mountain of Huawei Sect:

“In this matter, I’ve finally moved one step ahead of that old ghost!”

As the night breeze grew cooler, Song Qian Ji, lying on his recliner, suddenly felt an itch in his nose and couldn’t help but sneeze.