Chapter 96: As Long as My Beloved Returns

Lin Yun Chuan, clad in white robes with his sword on his back, walked along the muddy road just outside Fengyu City after a fresh rain. Mo Kaiming followed behind him, accompanying him on this mission.

Lin Yun Chuan currently held his Tianfeng Sect disciple token, communicating with Meng Yingxing, who was far away in Zhongyang Town.

Their task wasn’t heavy; Lin Yun Chuan was merely Mo Kaiming’s escort this time, which left him free to offer Meng Yingxing a bit of guidance.

“Junior Brother Meng, the small-scale Myriad Search Array is a search technique our Tianfeng Sect refined from the original Myriad Search Formation. I’ll teach you the incantation now—listen carefully.”

Lin Yun Chuan recited a string of spell words for Meng Yingxing on the other end, then rattled off a long list of precautions and usage tips.

Mo Kaiming stood nearby, his face as expressionless as ever, though inwardly he sighed with resignation. Senior Brother Lin was truly diligent and caring toward his fellow disciples, but his endless nagging could be exhausting.

“Did you get all that, Junior Brother Meng?”

Worried Meng Yingxing might have missed something, Lin Yun Chuan asked again.

Before Meng Yingxing could reply, Mo Kaiming hurriedly shouted into the token on his behalf.

“Heard it! Heard it loud and clear—with both ears!”

Hearing his master’s outburst, Meng Yingxing smiled silently before replying that he had indeed memorized everything.

“Good. Then I wish you smooth success on your mission, Junior Brother Meng.”

Lin Yun Chuan was about to offer his blessings when, perhaps too focused on the transmission, he failed to watch where he was going. He collided hard with a passerby who had been looking down.

As a powerful cultivator, Lin Yun Chuan was unharmed. The other person, however, stumbled and fell face-first into the mud.

The book box on his back flipped open, scattering books and scrolls across the ground. One painting was instantly ruined, soaked with a large muddy stain.

“My painting! My painting!”

The man cried out in horror, scrambling toward the open scroll without even standing up. He clutched it to his chest like a treasure.

Guilt washed over Lin Yun Chuan. He put away his disciple token, quickly helped the man to his feet, and gathered the scattered books and scrolls back into the box.

He studied the man’s appearance: a scholarly look, around thirty years old.

“I’m truly sorry. I wasn’t watching the road…”

Lin Yun Chuan began to apologize, but the scholar was frantically wiping the single painting in his hands, muttering to himself.

“My painting… my painting!!”

The more he tried to clean it, the worse the stain spread. His voice grew increasingly frantic.

Finally, the scholar shook violently and grabbed Lin Yun Chuan’s collar with a ferocious expression.

Mo Kaiming’s heart jolted. The Wuliang Sword slipped into his hand, ready to strike a vital point.

Lin Yun Chuan raised a hand, signaling Mo Kaiming to hold back.

“You bastard! Look what you’ve done! My painting is ruined! Ruined!!!”

Lin Yun Chuan let the scholar clutch his collar, staring into his furious, bloodshot eyes.

“It truly was my fault. I’m deeply sorry.”

Lin Yun Chuan apologized with utmost sincerity. “If possible, I will compensate you for the damage to these paintings and books.”

“Compensate? Compensate?”

The scholar suddenly released him, his face twisting between laughter and tears.

He flung his sleeve dramatically. “You have no idea what I’ve lost!”

As if struck by something, the scholar burst into loud sobs.

Lin Yun Chuan and Mo Kaiming exchanged a glance, utterly baffled by the scene.

“Good sir… if you cherish these paintings so much, I can restore them all for you.”

Lin Yun Chuan stepped forward politely, offering a solution.

“Really?”

The scholar stopped crying, looking at Lin Yun Chuan with suspicion.

“I am a disciple of the Tianfeng Sect. Every word I speak is true.”

Moments later, the scholar followed the two to a quiet teahouse.

Now calmer, he handed Lin Yun Chuan the scroll he had been clutching.

“If you can truly restore it, please—just this one painting.”

From the scholar’s earlier behavior, Lin Yun Chuan could tell how precious it was. He accepted it carefully with both hands.

Lin Yun Chuan slowly unrolled the painting.

It was clearly old, though well-preserved, with faint yellowing on the paper.

On it was a vivid portrait of a shyly smiling young woman.

In the lower right corner was the date of creation—a spring sixteen years ago. Beside it, a name: He Xueluo.

Lin Yun Chuan glanced at the scholar, who was gazing at the woman in the painting with deep longing.

Though Lin Yun Chuan had devoted his life to cultivation and never yearned for romance, he understood what this woman meant to the scholar.

The painting was beautifully done and profoundly meaningful. It was a shame it had been so badly stained.

“Then, I’ll begin.”

Lin Yun Chuan withdrew his gaze. Spiritual power gathered at his fingertips as he gently cleansed the paper.

The scholar watched eagerly as the stains vanished bit by bit, the young woman’s face once again vivid and lifelike.

To him, her every smile and glance felt like yesterday.

In no time, the painting was spotless.

Lin Yun Chuan handed it back.

“I’m truly sorry.”

He apologized again. “It was my carelessness that nearly destroyed something you cherish.”

His words were as sincere as ever.

The scholar said nothing. He gazed at the woman in the painting with loving eyes, tracing her features over and over with trembling fingers.

“You care for this painting so deeply. The person in it must mean the world to you.”

Lin Yun Chuan observed.

The scholar nodded. “She was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. All the pampered ladies from wealthy families couldn’t compare to even a fraction of her.”

“Then please—cherish the person in this painting as much as you cherish the painting itself.”

Lin Yun Chuan finished, exchanging another glance with Mo Kaiming, who gave a slight nod.

The scholar blinked, stunned.

When he looked up, the two men were gone. Only a piece of spirit silver remained on the table.

Cherish the person in the painting…

The scholar remembered sixteen years ago: the girl in the painting staying up late with him by lamplight, seeing him off at the ferry as he left for the imperial exams. He had promised that if he passed and earned glory, he would return to marry her. She had only smiled shyly, hands behind her back, and nodded. Before he left, she had said one last thing to him.

Later, he failed the exams. Ashamed to face their promise, ashamed of her devotion, ashamed to return to that springtime ferry, he stayed in the bustling city, taking the exams again and again. Sixteen years. Every night he lit a lamp and gazed at the girl in the painting, wondering: How was she now? Was she still waiting? Or had she long since married another? Yet he could never bring himself to go back. He had squandered his youth and betrayed all her hopes. Even now, he only lingered in nearby towns, like a ghost unable to move on.

Thinking of this, the scholar’s mouth felt dry. He called for the waiter and ordered a pot of water. When it arrived, he drank straight from the spout, gulping down the perfectly warm liquid.

“What did Xueluo say to me before I left…?” His voice was hoarse as he questioned himself—and the man he used to be.

BANG!

A storyteller’s gavel struck the table. The scholar looked up and heard the storyteller’s melodious voice:

“That devoted girl waited every single day for her beloved to return! She sought no riches or glory—only her beloved by her side, one life, one lifetime, one pair!”

“Did the devoted girl ever wait for her beloved? Why did he never return? For the rest of the story, please listen next time!”

Suddenly, the scholar remembered.

He remembered what the girl at that springtime ferry had said to him before he left. The first half was hazy, but the second half rang clear as melting spring snow on a river:

“—As long as my beloved returns.”