Chapter 45: Sweet Intent and Mortal Bonds

With this thought, Qíngyǔ glanced at the grapevines in her own courtyard.

It occurred to her that, in this seventh or eighth month, the grapes must be nearly ripe; she hadn’t paid them much mind and wondered if their own vines had borne any fruit.

“Mama is the best!”

The Little Girl snuggled closer, burrowing into her mother’s embrace once more. The strange events of the day had left little impression on the little one’s mind; she only remembered Qíngyǔ’s ethereal, almost immortal figure.

“Sleep early.”

Outside, the rain had ceased, and the distinctive scent of grass and trees after a fresh clearing of the skies brought a profound sense of comfort.

The Young Lady extended her hand, beckoning a breeze to extinguish the candlelight beside the bed, plunging the room into immediate, quiet darkness.

“Mama…”

The Little Girl was somewhat restless tonight, rubbing her small head against the Young Lady’s shoulder and whispering softly.

“What is it?”

“I haven’t heard a story in so long!”

Indeed, in recent days, she had been preoccupied with the Yang family’s affairs and dealing with the Gubei Demon.

Returning home each night, she would hastily fall asleep, leaving no time to tell stories.

If the Young Lady were to further involve herself in Beitu Jun’s matters, such tranquil moments would likely become even scarcer.

“What do you want to hear?”

“Journey to the West!”

“Hmm… well… last time, we spoke of Sun Wukong being expelled by his master from the Slanting Moon Three Stars Cave, and his arduous journey back to the Flower-Fruit Mountain…”

Qíngyǔ gently patted the Little Girl’s back, narrating the tale as softly as she could.

“Mama, why did Bodhi Patriarch drive Sun Wukong away?”

Many had indeed offered various conjectures regarding this point, but Qíngyǔ, unwilling to delve into such discussions, simply followed her own interpretation.

“Because he did something wrong.”

“Was it for showing off his abilities?”

“Yes, that was the primary reason.”

Having explained, the Young Lady continued her narration.

After a short while, she heard her daughter’s muffled voice once more.

“Then, if I do something wrong, will Mama drive me away?”

“I will teach you to correct your mistakes, but I will never drive you away.”

“Mama is different from Bodhi Patriarch, aren’t you?”

“People are all different, and my mortal heart (TL Note: ‘Fanxin’ refers to worldly desires and attachments, contrasting with an ascetic’s detachment.) is heavier.”

It wasn’t merely a mortal heart; Qíngyǔ had always held a deep regard for the mundane affairs of the world. For her, cultivating the Dao was not about shedding emotions.

In her previous life, she had one or two senior martial brothers who, fearing the countless partings they would endure if they lived too long, simply severed all ties with the mortal world.

Yet, to her, this seemed nothing more than an act of evasion.

How could one seek the Great Dao without experiencing the mortal realm’s smoke and fire (TL Note: ‘Bu shi yanhuo’ literally means ‘not eating worldly food,’ metaphorically referring to being detached from worldly life.)?

If one became lost in the red dust of mortal attachments, they could only blame their own wavering Dao heart, rather than fate or human circumstances.

“Mama, you’re so good to me.”

“If I’m not good to you, then who should I be good to?”

She had personally chosen Qíng Shíqīng’s name, and later, she would likely bestow upon her a courtesy name and a Daoist title. Strictly speaking, Qíng Shíqīng was her only disciple in this lifetime.

She was, in essence, the sum of all Qíngyǔ’s attachments in this life.

As for the other mortals she knew, in less than a century, perhaps even fifty years, where would their new graves lie?

And the immortal cultivators were even more fleeting—mere passersby, their paths crossing like duckweed on water.

On the path of cultivation, separation was the norm.

The Little Girl, of course, had no idea what her mother was contemplating; she simply found her mother soft and warm, immensely comfortable to hold.

Qíngyǔ’s clear, cool, yet gentle voice continued for a long time.

It was strange, this child; she was clearly on the verge of sleep, yet whenever the voice paused, she would suddenly stir awake, pat Qíngyǔ, and urge her to continue the story.

After an indeterminate period, the Little Girl finally wrapped herself around Qíngyǔ completely, like an octopus, her breathing settling into a calm rhythm, utterly devoid of any pretense.

Qíngyǔ gazed with a touch of emotion at the Little Girl sleeping peacefully in her arms.

While holding her like this was comfortable for the child, it made it somewhat difficult for Qíngyǔ to sleep.

The Young Lady secretly shook her head, yet dared not stir her hands, so she simply closed her eyes and returned to her own thoughts.

Beitu Jun’s matters required a meticulous investigation, while Song Daocong’s affair necessitated a trip to the dilapidated temple on the mountain to inform the Earth God. The fragments of the Words of Admonishment to the World also demanded study…

It seemed that beyond the mundane concerns of firewood, rice, oil, and salt, she, as a mortal woman, had many other matters to ponder.

She did not, however, dislike this feeling.

The night passed without a word.

***

The following morning, as the Little Girl woke with a yawn, her mother had already prepared the syrup early and was now sitting in the courtyard, threading bamboo skewers.

The grapevines in their home had been generous, laden heavily with an abundance of fruit, enough for the Little Girl to eat to her heart’s content.

Leaf shadows swayed, clinging to the Young Lady’s blue-green robe as if seeking praise.

Bestowing a wisp of spiritual energy upon the vine in exchange, Qíngyǔ beckoned the wind to pluck the plump fruits from the grapevines.

She had kept the syrup warm with a spell, ensuring it wouldn’t cool down immediately.

As she pondered, the Young Lady reached out again, transforming her myriad thoughts into dew, which she then mixed into the orange-red syrup.

‘This isn’t bad.’

Her Way of Refining Intent (TL Note: A cultivation method focusing on infusing one’s will or emotions into objects or actions.) had often been used for such purposes in her previous life, transforming emotions into all things.

Simply infusing a bit of spiritual intent was a way of giving her disciples special tutoring, or ‘Rhyme Food’ as it was called in her past life.

However, ordinary mortals could not endure food imbued with such refined intent.

In her previous life, when her sect faced hardship, she and her master often prepared such dishes, typically infusing them with cultivation insights before selling them to fellow practitioners.

Her master’s creations were more varied; some were infused into snow and required simmering over a fierce fire to reveal their intent, while others needed the assistance of strong winds.

She, on the other hand, would simply infuse hers into dew, mix it casually, and then sell it.

After her master’s passing, and seeing that the sect was thriving, she only prepared such food for her disciples and fellow martial siblings.

“Little Girl, come try this.”

Her thoughts reaching this point, Qíngyǔ turned to see the disheveled Little Girl, barefoot, clutching the doorframe and staring blankly at her. A faint amusement stirred in Qíngyǔ’s heart.

“Mama, you look so pretty!”

The Little Girl pattered over, hastily settling herself upright on a nearby stone stool, her eyes gleaming as she watched her mother coat the fruits in syrup, creating candied hawthorns.

“Are you saying I’m pretty, or that this skewer of candied fruit is pretty?”

“Both are pretty, both are pretty—”

Impatiently, the Little Girl snatched the candied fruit skewer from Qíngyǔ’s hand, then fiercely bit into a single grape, stuffing it into her mouth.

“There are grape seeds, eat slowly.”

“So yummy!”

The crisp crunching of the sugar coating alone was enough to make one’s mouth water.

It was a pity the sugar wasn’t of higher quality; even with Qíngyǔ’s best efforts at purification, it couldn’t achieve the refined effect of white sugar.

It seemed she would have to make her own sugar in the future.

If time allowed, she would also need to establish a spiritual herb garden.

“There’s still plenty; eat slowly.”

Watching her swiftly devour an entire skewer of candied fruit, Qíngyǔ felt both delight and a touch of concern.

‘Do cultivators in this world even get cavities?’ she wondered.

“Mama, this is so sweet, it’s different from what I usually eat!”

After finishing a skewer, the Little Girl handed back the bamboo stick, her small face alight with smiles.

“The original ones were hawthorns, which are a bit sour.”

Qíngyǔ explained, though she wasn’t entirely certain what type of candied fruit the Little Girl had eaten before, she felt the difference was likely negligible.

“No, it’s a feeling, a feeling!”

The Little Girl swayed as she spoke.

“Eating it, it feels like I can sense what Mama is thinking!”

Seeing her happy expression, Qíngyǔ felt a measure of satisfaction.

That, then, counted as an initiation.

Although the Little Girl was not yet capable of fully grasping the ‘seeking wind’ intent, her ability to taste the underlying meaning in the sugar coating was already quite remarkable.

“Do you want more?”

“Mm-hmm!”

So, Qíngyǔ strung another skewer of candied fruit, and under the sunlight, the freshly solidified sugar coating shimmered like flowing gold.