“Martial Uncle,” Zanxing said to him, “come sit a bit closer.”

Gu Baiying stared at the rain outside the cave: “There’s an illumination talisman.”

“The illumination talisman just provides light, this is different.” Zanxing poked at the branches: “It’s too cold. Having fire is warmer.”

Gu Baiying didn’t move.

She thought for a moment and made small talk: “Martial Uncle, I’m a bit hungry. Do you still have any of the pastries that Master left for you?”

He didn’t answer. Mimi carefully circled the fire, found a safe place to lie down, and warmed her fluffy tail.

This was the only warmth in the cave. Human shadows fell on the stone walls, swaying slightly. Outside the cave was a cold, gloomy rainy day.

She heard Gu Baiying’s voice rise, calm and emotionless.

He said: “When I was little, Master told me that the lovebird flower tree in Xiaoyao Hall’s courtyard was transplanted by my mother’s own hands.”

“She watered it with many spirit medicines. The lovebird flower tree grew very quickly—in less than half a year, it was already lush with branches and leaves.”

“But the lovebird flower tree never bloomed.”

“I heard that my mother used illusion magic to create a tree full of blossoms, making Xiaoyao Hall lively. When I grew up, I always thought that if the lovebird flower tree bloomed, she would come back.”

The young man said flatly, “So I learned illusion magic.”

Zanxing’s heart stirred. In the courtyard of the inn in Li’er Kingdom, Gu Baiying had once dismissed illusion magic as worthless. At that time, Zanxing had asked him: “According to what Martial Uncle says, for us cultivators, learning illusion magic is neither meaningful nor advantageous, so why did Martial Uncle still learn it? It couldn’t just be to see blooming trees in winter, could it?”

It turned out he was doing it for a tree that would bloom.

“Master told me that my mother was born in the sect and used to love eating the pear blossom cakes he made, so I learned to make them too. I thought when she came back, I would make them for her with my own hands.”

“I waited many years. She didn’t come back.”

His voice scattered in the wind, as if it would freeze in the night. The young man leaned against the stone wall, gazing at the deep mountain colors in the distance. The firelight in the cave made his pupils look like stars—silent and beautiful. That colorful hair ribbon wasn’t as flowing as usual, falling gently on his shoulder like a dark flower.

He said, “I’ve thought many times about what my birth father looked like, and I’ve also wondered what expression my mother would have when she saw me.”

And then what?

Fate seemed somewhat cruel to him. There were no earth-shattering grudges or emotional conflicts, yet everywhere there were unfortunate misunderstandings.

“Qinghua Xianzi is a remarkable person,” Zanxing said softly. “Martial Ancestor Gu was equally righteous. Without them, there would be no cultivation world as it is today, no peace for the people. You should be grateful they weren’t bad people.”

“I know.”

He lowered his eyelashes. It seemed that decades of pretense had found a crack at this moment, in this cold and lonely rainy night, then suddenly split open, collapsing at the first touch.

Zanxing looked over and saw what seemed like crystal fragments, like broken stars, between the young man’s eyelashes. On his pearl-colored cloud satin brocade robe, vermilion geese spread their wings ready to fly, brilliant and radiant, yet he looked so lonely, as if in this whole world, only he was left sitting alone in desolation.

“…Martial Uncle,” she asked in a low voice, “are you crying?”

Gu Baiying didn’t answer.

Mimi lazily turned over. The warm orange fire continued burning, tirelessly driving away the cold of the rainy night.

Zanxing moved a bit closer to him and said softly: “Martial Uncle, in this world, there are people with very good luck and people whose luck isn’t so good. Qinghua Xianzi and Martial Ancestor Gu had worse luck, but being able to reunite is ultimately something joyful.” She picked up a branch—the tip still had a bit of fire on it, and the faint light illuminated a small patch of the rainy night. She said, “Look, on the same kind of rainy night, Qinghua Xianzi and Martial Ancestor Gu also spent time together. The words you and I have spoken, they might have talked about too.”

“Between people, there are only meetings and partings. There are more partings than meetings—life is always like this.” Zanxing gazed into the distance. The cave divided the world into two parts: inside the cave was warm and cozy, outside the cave was cold as a winter night.

“If you hadn’t followed us to Li’er Kingdom’s secret realm, if Mendong hadn’t gone to pick that golden flower, if Tan Tianxin hadn’t rushed out to interfere, if I hadn’t been caught by the Golden Flower Tiger, if we hadn’t fallen into the stone chamber together, if I hadn’t learned the ‘Qing E Nian Hua Gun,’ if you hadn’t been injured and bled trying to save me… we wouldn’t have entered the secret room, wouldn’t have seen that painting, wouldn’t have had your reunion with Qinghua Xianzi.” Zanxing said: “You see, so many ‘ifs’—missing even one wouldn’t work, yet we still got to see your mother. This shows that fate destined you to meet again. Looking at it this way, the luck isn’t completely terrible.”

She smiled, bringing the branch in her hand closer to Gu Baiying’s side, passing along a subtle warmth. Zanxing said, “The lovebird flowers in Xiaoyao Hall are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen. Learning this illusion magic isn’t a losing proposition.”

“Illusion magic is fake,” Gu Baiying finally spoke.

“But your desire for it to bloom in that moment was real,” Zanxing said. “Wasn’t it?”

He didn’t speak.

“The pear blossom cakes are also delicious. Gu Baiying, believe me, if Qinghua Xianzi had tasted them, she definitely would have liked them too.” She nudged the person beside her with her elbow.

The cave fell silent.

After a very long time, the young man frowned, as if gradually extracting himself from that dejected mood. He turned his head, his gaze bright again as in the past, and asked: “Who gave you permission to call me by name?”

Zanxing was stunned.

“Yang Zanxing, I’m your martial uncle, your elder, and you’re the junior. From now on, you’re not allowed to call me that way,” he glanced at the burning branch in Zanxing’s hand, moved aside, and warned: “Don’t sit so close to me either.”

Wow, had he come back to life again?

Zanxing looked at him, seeing him with cold brows and eyes, quite dissatisfied as he took out a voice transmission talisman from his Qiankun Bag, probably preparing to search for people early tomorrow morning. Only then did she feel somewhat relieved.

Her friends used to say she seemed to attract the affection of cats and dogs—the stray cats downstairs always liked to circle her feet. Just now, when Gu Baiying sat dejectedly with lowered eyes, he looked like a little dog that had been rained on but refused to come inside—truly pitiful.

So she could only patiently gather words to comfort this young man, not knowing if those words made him feel even a little better. However, someone who could live so freely in the sect, even if it was a pretense, wouldn’t be a fragile person. He would recover quickly—Zanxing did not doubt this.

She returned to the fire and threw that branch into the burning flames, saying casually: “Got it. Don’t worry, Martial Uncle. I won’t tell anyone about you crying. I’ll keep your secret for you—if you can give me more pear blossom cakes.”

Gu Baiying’s expression changed slightly: “Are you threatening me?” Then he reacted: “Who was crying? Yang Zanxing, don’t talk nonsense!”

Zanxing shrugged: “Tsk tsk tsk, and here I was comforting you so sincerely. It turns out sect elders don’t like telling the truth either. Fine, if you won’t admit it, then don’t. After all, no one else saw it.”

“Yang Zanxing!”

The cave was noisy and chaotic. Mimi lifted its eyelids to glance at the two quarreling people, stretched lazily, and went back to sleep. The fire burned quietly, seeming like it might burn out at any moment in the cold, rainy night wind, yet also seeming bright as if it would never be extinguished.

……

The rain gradually lessened.

From torrential downpour to gentle drizzle, the mountain night was still cold but no longer windy.

The dead branches in the fire burned with crackling sounds. Though it was just a small pile, the warmth filled the entire cave.

The person beside her nodded her head bit by bit, like a chicken pecking at rice. Finally, as if she couldn’t hold on anymore, her head tilted and leaned against the young man’s shoulder.

Gu Baiying glanced sideways slightly.

The woman nuzzled his shoulder, seeming to find this corner of his clothing soft and comfortable to lean on. The dark marks on her cheeks became blurred in the dim firelight. With her eyes closed, she wasn’t as annoying as during the day—she looked quiet and gentle.

She was the culprit who had stolen the Qin Chong seed; her cultivation wasn’t particularly high, yet she was supposedly the “destined person” who could save all people from fire and water. This sounded ridiculous, but…

But…

His gaze fell on the two rough clay figurines in his palm.

But at least tonight, her presence made this moment seem less lonely.

The fat cat snored drowsily by the fire. Gu Baiying reached out to push her head away, but just as his hand was about to touch her hair, he caught sight of the cloth strips on her palm.

His movement froze. After a long moment, he withdrew his hand and let the woman sleep soundly, leaning on his shoulder.

In the night, the young man looked toward the cold, lonely mountain ranges in the distance.

Perhaps she was right—fire was warmer than talisman paper, life had more partings than meetings, and he was just a bit unluckier than others.

Life was always like this.

……

Zanxing slept through the night until dawn.

When she woke up, sunlight had already passed through the grove at the cave entrance, making her eyes ache. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, seeing Gu Baiying walking in from outside. His brocade clothing was neat as new—he must have gone to use cleaning techniques or something. Zanxing asked: “Martial Uncle, what time is it?”

“What do you think?” After Zanxing’s careful guidance last night, this person seemed completely recovered and was back to his disdainful manner: “If the sect were full of disciples as lazy as you, I think Taiyan Sect would sooner or later become the shame of the cultivation world.”

Zanxing yawned while getting up and tidying herself with cleaning techniques, saying: “I haven’t been idle these past few days. In the painted realm, I was beaten black and blue by your mother. Of course you’re fine, but my waist still hurts…”

Qinghua Xianzi was truly beautiful, and her strikes were truly ruthless.

Just as Gu Baiying was about to speak, he suddenly heard excited shouts from outside: “Junior Sister! Seventh Martial Uncle!”

It was Tian Fangfang’s voice.

Zanxing looked over with surprise and saw Tian Fangfang running toward them from near the cave, carrying his golden axe, with Meng Ying and the others behind him.

“You are here!”