Chapter 15: A Meal of Mixed Emotions

“Your disciple will bear that in mind.”

Yang Qingqing offered a respectful bow to Zì Bùxiàn, who, in turn, stroked his white beard with a satisfied air before his form dissolved into a shower of rain and vanished.

A gentle breeze swept across the open ground, clearing away the last shimmering curtain of pure white, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of wine.

‘That old Daoist,’ Qíngyǔ thought, pouting. ‘She had just been about to ask him for a few leaves of ‘Pure Rain’ (TL Note: A spiritual item or resource), but he had vanished without giving her a chance.’

“Immortal! Immortal! Stay for a meal before you go!”

Master Yang stared, dumbfounded, as a living person dissolved into rain before his very eyes, frantically shouting a few pleas towards the sky, though, naturally, no response came.

“Father, stop shouting. Master must have gone far already.”

Only after confirming Zì Bùxiàn’s departure did Yang Qingqing straighten her posture.

“Master… this…”

Master Yang paused, stunned for a moment, but upon seeing his daughter’s nod, he burst into boisterous laughter, completely disregarding his usual composure.

After a moment of mirth, he noticed Qíngyǔ and Little Girl still standing there.

He quickly cleared his throat, then continued, “It’s getting late, and it would be too dark for you two young ladies to return home and start cooking. How about you dine here at the Yang Residence tonight?”

This had, in fact, been her primary reason for bringing Little Girl to see the immortal today, so upon hearing Master Yang’s words, Qíngyǔ naturally nodded in agreement.

“Then we shall humbly accept your kind offer.”

“Not at all, not at all! Jí Yào! Jí Yào!”

“Here!”

Hearing the call, the Servant quickly tossed aside the poorly-formed grasshopper he had been struggling with for quite some time, leaping into the courtyard from outside in two swift bounds.

“Go, tell Little Four to prepare plenty of delicious dishes,” Master Yang instructed. After a moment’s thought, he added, “And bring out that jar of wine from my backyard. Tonight, our entire family will share a reunion meal.”

“Father, Shūxuān.”

Upon hearing this, Yang Qingqing hastily tugged at her father’s sleeve.

“Oh, right! Don’t forget to send the compensation to Shūxuān’s family first, and make it quick!”

“Understood!”

Jí Yào, hand on his knife, clasped a fist in salute, then immediately scaled the courtyard wall and swiftly departed.

“Also, fetch two fresh fish from the market!”

Master Yang suddenly recalled something else and bellowed another instruction to the Servant.

“Got it!”

This exchange, however, amused Little Girl, who let out a giggle.

“Little Girl! You mustn’t be so impudent.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Today is a day for joy!”

Master Yang waved his hand dismissively.

Yet Qíngyǔ insisted on having Little Girl apologize, and only then did she turn to Master Yang and ask, “Who is Shūxuān?”

“She was the maid who suffered at the hands of a demonic entity in our home last night.”

Master Yang led everyone back to the main hall, where he personally refilled each person’s teacup.

“Since the immortal didn’t take her back today, and rumors have already begun to spread, I thought it best to send the compensation to her family, no matter what.”

“Weren’t they purchased as household servants?” Qíngyǔ asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

“Ah, even if they were purchased, they often still maintain some ties with their original families. Compensation is, of course, due.”

Master Yang’s words rang true, distinguishing his household from many other prominent families.

In this mundane world, wealthy families who purchased servants typically severed all ties between the servants and their original families; it was rare to find a household like the Yangs that allowed them to maintain such connections.

“I’ve long told the Emperor that this practice ought to change, that this custom should be reformed,” Master Yang said, shaking his head and blowing gently on his teacup.

“But never mind, I won’t burden you with such trivial matters, young lady.”

“Master Yang certainly possesses some insightful ideas.”

“You flatter me, young lady. I am but a solitary man; my few words hardly fit for polite society.”

“Father!”

Hearing him declare himself “a solitary man,” Yang Qingqing’s delicate brows furrowed sharply, and she reached out to give her father’s sleeve a firm tug.

“Oh,” Master Yang said, hastily patting his head with a chuckle, “I’m old and useless now; I can’t even guard my own tongue anymore.”

“What are you two arguing about now? Can’t a person even get some peace to sleep?”

Just as the group was bickering, a middle-aged woman spoke as she walked into the courtyard from outside.

Seeing her enter, Master Yang hastily rose to offer her the main seat, then pulled up another chair for himself beside it.

The middle-aged woman had a sickly pallor, stern eyes, and wore clothes so plain they seemed out of place. In Qíngyǔ’s estimation, she presented “the very image of a strict wife.”

“It’s about last night’s incident. Our daughter wished to cultivate immortality, and the immortal actually agreed.”

Mother Yang slowly sat down, her expression softening as she gazed at Qíngyǔ and Little Girl.

“This old man was accustomed to being an official in his younger days, so he often speaks nonsense and puts on airs. Please don’t take offense, young lady and little one.”

“It’s quite alright, Master Yang is very amiable.”

Qíngyǔ was profoundly shaken internally, and she held Little Girl, straightening her own posture.

Hearing this, Master Yang quickly winked and gestured towards his wife, his meaning clearly conveyed: ‘See, I still know how to host guests well.’

Mother Yang shot him another glare, then clutched her chest and coughed twice.

“Ah, I told you to rest properly. Now Shūxuān…” Master Yang hastily bit his tongue, stopping himself from mentioning the matter further. “You shouldn’t have come out if you’re not well.”

“Mother!”

Yang Qingqing, who was beside her, also rose in alarm upon hearing her mother’s cough.

“I know my own illness.”

Mother Yang cast a “fierce” glance at the two of them, prompting them to sink back into their seats, both dejected and concerned.

“I apologize for the neglect, young lady. My health is simply like this; I’ve taken many medicines, but I haven’t seen any improvement.”

“A benevolent person such as yourself, Madam, is always blessed by heaven.”

Qíngyǔ shook her head and looked at Yang Qingqing.

“Now that your esteemed daughter has apprenticed herself to an immortal, if your illness is truly severe, I imagine that Daoist won’t simply stand by and watch you perish.”

“Those are all ethereal matters,” Mother Yang said, her expression softening as she looked at Qíngyǔ and Little Girl, abruptly changing the subject. “How old is this child?”

Little Girl chirped, “Eight years old!”

Qíngyǔ, gently holding her hand, added to Mother Yang, “She is eight years old this year.”

“How lovely… how lovely… just as adorable as Qing’er was when she was little.”

“You’re beautiful too—”

Little Girl said playfully to Mother Yang, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the latter.

“Truly clever and quick-witted.”

“You flatter her, Madam.”

As they spoke, the group exchanged pleasantries for a while longer.

After three cups of tea had been served, Jí Yào reappeared, leaping in with an earthenware jar in his arms.

“I’ll go to the kitchen right away and call Little Four and the food.”

No sooner had he set down the wine jar than he swiftly departed again, only to return a moment later, laden with dishes.

Trailing behind him was a slightly plump cook, his brow glistening with sweat.

“Brother Jí, oh, wait for me.”

“We mustn’t neglect our guests!”

The Servant quickly placed the dishes before swiftly dashing back to the kitchen.

The Yang family and Qíngyǔ’s duo helped clear away the tea sets, and soon, the table was laden with dishes.

Little Four, still panting, wiped the sweat from his brow, then proudly began to introduce the evening’s fare: four dishes and one soup, complemented by a dish of chopped chili fresh fish.

The dishes consisted of vibrant wild vegetables and game, glistening with oil; the soup was a rich chicken broth, pale yellow with a hint of white, made mellow and unctuous with the addition of papaya; the chopped chili fresh fish, caught fresh from the river, was steamed in mountain spring water, then drizzled with hot chili oil and pickled chilies before a final steaming, its mere aroma enough to whet anyone’s appetite.

In truth, Qíngyǔ could still discern a certain sadness in the eyes of the Yang family members, though it was largely overshadowed by the joy of hosting guests and their young lady’s apprenticeship to an immortal.

“Sit, sit, sit; you two needn’t just stand there.”

Master Yang beckoned Jí Yào and the cook.

With everyone seated, they all enjoyed a hearty and delightful meal.

Qíngyǔ, however, refrained from drinking any wine.

Though she had initially intended to leave with Little Girl, the Yang family’s warm hospitality proved too difficult to refuse.

Thus, after reluctantly partaking in dinner at their residence as well, she finally set off on the path leading home.