Chapter 3: A Glimmer of Dao and a Curious Encounter

“I heard you.”

Placing her brush on its stand, Qíngyǔ ruffled the Little Girl’s hair, then approached the door, peering through the crack before finally unbarring the large gate.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, esteemed guest?”

Outside, the Servant seemed a little ill at ease, rubbing his hands together before he finally replied, “Might I inquire why the Young Lady has not gone out to sell flowers today?”

“It’s still early,” Qíngyǔ responded, “I was thinking of doing some other chores before heading out this afternoon.”

As she spoke, she firmly grasped the Little Girl’s curious, wandering hand behind her back, shielding her from view.

“My Young Lady was quite pleased with your flowers and wished to see if she might purchase more,” he explained, “Forgive us for the intrusion.”

“And how many does your Young Lady require?”

Without inviting the Servant inside, Qíngyǔ gestured for the Little Girl to fetch the winnowing basket she had left in the cool shade of the courtyard corner.

“My Young Lady instructed me to buy as many as you have.”

The Little Girl scurried away with a patter of tiny feet, then grunted and strained as she hauled the winnowing basket, a vessel significantly larger than herself, back to Qíngyǔ’s side.

“There are forty-nine pairs in total; does the guest wish to purchase all of them?”

“Yes, yes, all of them.”

Upon seeing the magnolia blossoms, the Servant’s eyes immediately brightened, and as if a great weight had been lifted, he hastily pulled out copper coins from his purse.

“Ninety-eight copper coins, correct? I’ll round it up to one hundred for the Young Lady, considering it a down payment for next year’s magnolias.”

“The guest is most generous.”

Taking the magnolia blossoms, he did not linger, merely bidding a hasty farewell before leaping away.

‘How peculiar.’

Qíngyǔ watched the rapidly departing figure, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

This person was indeed strange; yesterday, she hadn’t noticed anything unusual, but today, it was clear he possessed some martial skill.

“Little Mom, that person was so strange.”

The Little Girl tugged at Qíngyǔ’s sleeve, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Just an ordinary person with some martial arts skill,” Qíngyǔ replied habitually, in the tone she used when addressing a younger generation.

She glanced around, closed the main gate, and then led the Little Girl back to the stone table.

As she began to grind ink and write once more, a small conversation was unfolding within the Little Girl’s sea of consciousness.

[Hey, wasn’t that person a little strange?]

[I’ve told you already, this sword is not called “Hey”….]

[Just tell me.]

[Merely a fellow with a bit of low-grade evil attached to them. What’s there to be so surprised about?]

[Will it hurt Little Mom?]

[No.]

[Oh.]

Glancing at the Little Girl who had been staring at her, Qíngyǔ paid it no mind, continuing to lift her brush and write her characters.

That Servant had indeed been somewhat anomalous; setting aside his haste to buy flowers, the mere fact that he had managed to find this secluded courtyard was deeply unsettling.

Nevertheless, for the sake of the money, Qíngyǔ decided to let it pass.

‘Such is destiny…’

As ink became characters and characters gathered into a book, the Little Girl watched for a while, then, finding herself bored, chased butterflies throughout the courtyard.

From the green tiles on the roof, water still dripped, and grapevines hung loosely, their tendrils swaying.

Sunlight cast a layer of golden shimmer upon both Qíngyǔ and the Little Girl.

As Qíngyǔ wrote, she felt as though she had returned to the days when her Master lectured.

She would sit on a meditation cushion, while the venerable Master sat high upon the dais, surrounded by her fellow disciples.

Though she was clearly the least talented among her peers, her Master always seemed willing to spend extra time on her, this dull-witted individual.

He would say that if her spiritual wisdom remained unopened, it was simply not yet her time, and that with more patience, she would eventually grasp the branch of the Dao.

Yet, throughout her entire hundred and twenty-eight years in her previous life, she had never managed to attain the broad and open path of the Dao her Master spoke of.

Instead, she had merely swallowed her life whole amidst what felt like boundless helplessness.

Lost in thought, Qíngyǔ suddenly felt that what she was writing were no longer mere characters.

It was as if she had crushed her entire previous life, spat it into the ink, and then, painstakingly, bit by bit, carved it into words.

[Master! Stop chasing!]

[Why?]

[This sword feels something is very wrong.]

[I don’t feel anything though?]

[Of course you wouldn’t feel… Sigh, never mind.]

The Immortal Sword had felt this unease more than once, yet she was utterly unable to pinpoint the source of this anomaly.

[How strange. Logically speaking, the Northern Ridge has been devoid of spiritual energy since ancient times, so there shouldn’t be any great fortuitous encounters appearing here…]

[What’s a great fortuitous encounter?]

[It’s a good thing.]

[A good thing? Can Little Mom use it?]

[What use would a mortal have for it? You should take it yourself. Who knows, she might even gain a little benefit from it.]

While the girl and the sword chatted, Qíngyǔ remained engrossed in her paper and ink.

In her perception at that moment, everything in the world seemed to transform into two colors, black and white, separating into clear and turbid.

Brush and ink, Qíngyǔ, the Little Girl, the small courtyard.

Dripping water, green tiles, the market, the small town.

The Servant, the households, the small buildings, the distant mountains.

***

All these myriad images, spanning an unknown distance, converged within a single stroke beneath Qíngyǔ’s unadorned hand.

“So that’s how it is.”

Qíngyǔ, in a daze, held her brush suspended, as if she could once again see her Master seated high on the dais, lecturing to the assembly.

[“I ask you all, where truly lies the so-called Dao?”]

The crowd offered no consensus; the older ones merely pursed their lips, focusing on their own techniques, while the younger ones scratched their ears and racked their brains, eager to distinguish themselves.

[“You, yes, you, speak your mind.”]

At that time, Qíngyǔ had just transmigrated and understood nothing of the Dao or anything similar.

He could only brace himself and haphazardly string together phrases he remembered from web novels in his previous life.

[“The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao… Hmm, you, young man, possess some roots of wisdom.”]

The Master stroked his long beard, extended a finger, and sent a word-refining incantation into the young man’s spiritual sea.

[“Henceforth, you shall inherit your master’s art of transforming intent into characters.”]

Alas, despite receiving such grace from her Master, she had toiled for a century without truly grasping the profound essence of the art.

Only now, on this very day, did she finally attain a glimmer of understanding.

As the last character was set down, the white paper remained dazzlingly pristine, even the characters previously inscribed upon it having vanished without a trace.

Qíngyǔ felt certain that at this moment, she could condense the entire Dao she had just perceived into a single character and lay it down.

However, an intense sensation of heart-palpitations abruptly forced her to halt her brush.

‘The heavens would not permit it.’

Shaking her head, Qíngyǔ transformed all the gathered insights from her writing practice into a single mouthful of spiritual energy, swallowing it completely.

This marked her first cultivation session in this new world.

The familiar spiritual energy circulated throughout her body, leaving Qíngyǔ feeling quite satisfied.

This was far easier than the arduous process of ‘guiding qi into the body’ (TL Note: A common cultivation technique where one absorbs spiritual energy from the environment into their body) in her previous life.

She had originally planned to settle down for a few more days before resuming her cultivation.

She never expected that her intention to write a few characters to sell in town today would bring such an unexpected delight.

Now, however, she wondered if these few sheets of white paper could still be used to write normal characters, as there weren’t many left at home…

The Little Girl, who had been busy teasing ants, seemed to sense something amiss.

She twitched her small nose, sniffing around, before her eyes lit up, fixing intently on Qíngyǔ, who had resumed grinding ink and writing.

[Little Mom smells so good—]

[Haven’t I already told you it’s the scent of flowers?]

[No, it was just now, she suddenly became so, so fragrant.]

[Hmm? This mortal truly is becoming rather strange.]

The Immortal Sword manifested as a faint illusion.

The act of gathering moonlight on the night of the full moon had allowed her to barely recover a sliver of her power, at least enough to project her sword-shadow.

[Strange, this sword cannot discern anything peculiar about her.]

[Little Mom isn’t strange at all.]

[I told you… Sigh…]

The Immortal Sword was thoroughly exasperated by the Little Girl, who seemed to be “turning her elbow outward”

(TL Note: A Chinese idiom referring to someone who favors outsiders over their own family/group, or in this context, defending someone else when they should be on your side).

Transforming back into an illusion, she retreated into the Little Girl’s sea of consciousness to sleep.

Meanwhile, the Little Girl blinked twice, her small mind whirred, and then she pretended to trip and fall to the ground.

“Hey! Be careful!”

Catching sight of her daughter suddenly stumbling, Qíngyǔ’s heart lurched.

She promptly dropped her brush and rushed over to help the Little Girl up.

“Little Mom… w-wah…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, Little Mom is right here.”

Scooping the Little Girl into her arms, Qíngyǔ comforted her while quickly checking for any injuries on her body.

“Thankfully, you’re fine. You must be more careful next time.”

It was unclear to whom she was speaking.

“Sniff—Mm…”

The Little Girl seized the opportunity to snuggle her entire body into Qíngyǔ’s embrace.

The strange, fragrant scent enveloped her, making her feel incredibly comfortable.

“What would you like to eat later?”

“Anything Little Mom cooks is delicious!”

“Then I’ll go out to buy some groceries later. You stay home and be good.”

“I want to go with Little Mom.”

“Oh, you child. Young Ladies from wealthy families don’t step out of the main gate or even the inner gate before they’re married.”

“But I’m not some Young Lady!”

Qíngyǔ chuckled, unable to resist planting a kiss on the Little Girl’s small cheek.

“My sweet Little Girl, you are my precious Young Lady. If you go out like this, no one will want you later, you know?”

The Little Girl vigorously wiped the kissed cheek with her sleeve.

“Will Little Mom not want me either?”

“I mean you won’t be able to marry anyone later.”

“Then I’ll just marry Little Mom!”

“You silly goose,” Qíngyǔ said, taking it as a joke. “Alright, then we’ll go out together this afternoon.”

“Long live Little Mom!”

The Little Girl cheered, wrapping her arms around her Little Mom’s neck, and planting a kiss on her cheek in return.

“Hey, why the sudden kiss?”

“Little Mom kissed me too, didn’t you—”

“Alright, alright…”

Qíngyǔ gazed at the Little Girl’s face, brimming with excitement, feeling both joy and a pang of sorrow.

How could anyone be so heartless as to not even give such a sweet little one a name?

‘Indeed, I must think of a beautiful name for her.’