Her fingertips touched the soft petals, as if picking up a dream in the void.

This dream suddenly expanded, and Zanxing heard Qinghua Xianzi’s urgent voice. Some images suddenly flashed in her mind – these images were chaotic and disorderly, like torn pictures, rapidly shuttling before her eyes.

The chaotic white gradually dispersed.

As the sky gradually brightened, she heard a man’s voice, bright and lively like the spring sun of April, with a hint of teasing: “Seeking pearls across the vast sea, collecting jade from Jing Mountain. I am called Gu Caiyu. May I ask the fairy’s honored name?”

Zanxing saw a man.

His face seemed to be veiled by a layer of clouds and mist, blurry and indistinct, impossible to see clearly, no matter how hard she looked. She could only make out his spring-green robe and hair ribbon of the same color. This person was very tall, leaning against a tree. Even though his face couldn’t be seen, just from hearing his voice, one could almost see the smile on his face.

Zanxing also saw Qinghua Xianzi. The beautiful woman coldly passed by the man called “Gu Caiyu,” not even sparing him a single glance.

Gu Caiyu then touched his nose, somewhat dejectedly saying: “The female disciples in this sect may be beautiful, but their temperaments aren’t very good.”

In the distance were barren stone mountains, with endless wilderness stretching as far as the eye could see. Only one tree with lush branches and leaves stood in the wilderness, swaying on its own. The man set off to chase after the woman ahead, saying as he went: “Hey, fairy, since we’re both trapped here, we should help each other and think of a way to get out!”

Trapped here? Zanxing was startled. Could this be… events that happened here in the past?

The scene suddenly shifted, and she saw that in front of the barren stone mountain, the man sat on a rock, playing with a foxtail grass in his hand while talking to the person in the distance: “Fairy, fairy, have you thought of a way to get out?”

Qinghua Xianzi sat on a distant blue stone, eyes closed in cultivation.

“Fairy, fairy, if you keep cultivating like this, when will you be able to break through the restrictions of this place?”

“Fairy, fairy…”

With a “snap,” a fruit was stuffed into his mouth. Qinghua Xianzi withdrew her hand and said coldly: “Shut up.”

So Gu Caiyu shut his mouth.

The sun gradually moved westward, scattering glittering waves of light on the meandering, flowing river. From the wilderness came the excited running figure of a man, carrying a chicken in his hand. That chicken was hideously ugly – whether from fighting with someone or what, most of its feathers had been plucked away, its tail was also bald, and it was struggling desperately in Gu Caiyu’s grasp.

He held the chicken by its wings, extending his hand before Qinghua Xianzi, who was cultivating with closed eyes, to show her his trophy: “Fairy, I caught a chicken, we have meat to eat!” He then tilted his head to look at the chicken again. The mountain chicken’s black bean-like eyes stared at him, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully: “But this chicken is a bit thin. Better to fatten it up before eating. Let’s raise it a bit more before slaughtering it.”

Qinghua Xianzi paid him no attention at all.

After this, the man became busy.

Zanxing watched as he bent over searching for bugs everywhere in the wilderness, pulling wild vegetables from various places, and making homemade chicken feed to feed the chicken on schedule. Sometimes he would sit holding the chicken, watching Qinghua Xianzi practice swordwork while asking: “How about we give it a name? What would be good – Roasted Chicken, Braised Chicken, Beggar’s Chicken? Steamed Chicken, Stewed Chicken, White Cut Chicken?”

Qinghua Xianzi swept her sword over, the sword wind shattering the stone in front of him to pieces. Heaven and earth were quiet for a moment, then after a while, the man’s weak voice sounded: “Then let’s call it White Cut Chicken. In my daily life, White Cut Chicken is what I love eating most.”

And so it was decided.

Every day, Qinghua Xianzi would go to the front of that stone mountain to test it. Her sword couldn’t break through the barrier, and sometimes she would even injure herself.

But Gu Caiyu was preparing to start killing the chicken.

He rolled up his sleeves, the palm-length knife in his hand making several gestures at the chicken’s neck, but finally put it down with trembling hands, asking Qinghua Xianzi: “How about… let’s just not eat it?”

Qinghua Xianzi watched coldly from the side.

“It’s not that I don’t dare kill chickens.” The man’s voice was earnest. “I just think there’s nothing wrong with being vegetarian.”

“You never intended to kill it from the beginning, did you?” Qinghua Xianzi finally spoke her first words. She stepped past Gu Caiyu, saying indifferently: “No one gives names to food.”

She went forward carrying her sword, leaving the young man still holding the chicken, staring at her retreating figure in a daze.

White Cut Chicken started squawking noisily.

The man came back to his senses, looking at the chicken in his hands and scolding: “Stop making noise, Little White.”

He lowered his head again, not knowing what he was thinking, but Zanxing felt he was probably smiling.

Then came another series of fragmented scenes.

Zanxing saw Gu Caiyu begin collecting dry grass and red clay everywhere, followed by that bald-tailed chicken. His spring-green robe was covered with mud as he enthusiastically shouted: “Fairy, let’s build a thatched cottage here!”

Qinghua Xianzi’s sword tip trembled as she turned to look at him. This person was already working away enthusiastically by himself. He built very seriously, with that bald-tailed chicken standing in the courtyard, leisurely pecking at grass seeds on the ground.

The thatched cottage was quickly built.

Walls of rammed mud, roof of dry grass, every beam in the house carefully smoothed with his knife. He went near the stone mountain to find a piece of blue stone, painstakingly polishing it into a water vat, and split gourds to make water ladles. When he began making stone cups, bowls, and chopsticks, Qinghua Xianzi finally couldn’t bear it anymore. She walked up to him and asked coldly: “What exactly are you doing?”

“Ah?” Gu Caiyu was sitting on the threshold, sharpening his knife. The knife had become somewhat dull from chopping wood. As he sharpened it, he said, “I built a house. In this desolate wilderness, we’ll have a place to live in the future.”

“If you want to live here, live here yourself.” Qinghua Xianzi’s expression was indifferent.

“Don’t say that,” Gu Caiyu hastily said: “Look, I built two rooms – one for you, one for me. I plan to make a table inside the house too, for writing and such in our daily life…”

Qinghua Xianzi frowned: “Are you planning not to leave, to live here for the rest of your life?”

“Live here for the rest of my life?” Gu Caiyu’s voice sounded very cheerful. “That wouldn’t be so bad either. Look, this place has clear mountains and beautiful waters, boundless wind and moon, and with a beautiful companion…”

A fierce wind swept over his head, and three strands of black hair fluttered down.

Qinghua Xianzi looked at him coldly, the long sword in her hand radiating captivating light.

Gu Caiyu swallowed: “…I only dare admire from afar, not dare to act presumptuously.”

Qinghua Xianzi snorted coldly and turned to leave.

After that, Qinghua Xianzi still cultivated daily, struck at the barrier, then returned without success.

But Gu Caiyu’s thatched cottage became increasingly complete.

A wooden bed frame was set up, and the table was also carved. It had windows, a stove, and even a cooking platform. The blue stone vat was filled with water, and White Cut Chicken often flew onto the gourd ladle to drink water.