Chapter 51: A Visit and a Vow

Initially, she had planned to take Little Girl to the graveyard outside of town, hoping to stumble upon traces of underworld officials there.

However, the child had woken exceptionally late today; the sun already stood high in the sky, yet she remained sprawled on her bed, drooling.

‘Perhaps I should steal away in the dead of night instead?’

Lost in thought, she watched the wisps of clouds gather and scatter across the sky for a prolonged period, until finally, someone arrived at her door—though it wasn’t Little Girl who had stirred first.

“Qíngyǔ? Are you there?”

The decaying main door swayed precariously with the lightest tap, startling the person on the other side.

“I’m here, but Little Girl is still asleep.”

Qíngyǔ quickly extended a hand, muffling her words, lest she disturb her daughter’s slumber, and then took a few steps to open the door.

Clad in official robes and hat, a bag of unknown contents clutched in his hand, and with a generous scattering of grey in his hair—who else could it be but Yang Qi?

“Qíngyǔ, this modest courtyard of yours is… truly too impoverished.”

Yang Qi offered a wry smile, and only after Qíngyǔ gestured him inside did he step across the threshold.

“Among those I converse with are great scholars; no unlearned commoners come or go.”

Casually borrowing Liu Yuxi’s elegant lines, the young woman in green led him to the stone table and, calling for the teapot, replenished his tea.

“Splendid lines, splendid lines! Truly worthy of Qíngyǔ…”

Yang Qi sighed with admiration, setting down the package he carried. He explained that he hadn’t even brought Jí Yào with him today, having simply strolled out after his morning meal.

“I didn’t compose it; I merely borrowed from the wisdom of others.”

Qíngyǔ harbored no desire to be a plagiarist, yet the verse had been so apt for the occasion that she had simply appropriated it.

“My wife insisted I bring this,” Yang Qi explained, untying the package to reveal an abundance of bottles and jars crammed inside. “There’s rouge, hairpins, floral forehead decorations, a small mirror…”

The man recited the list as if rattling off a lengthy menu, speaking until his throat was parched, while Qíngyǔ’s lips merely twitched.

It was some time before he finally lifted his teacup, gulped down a mouthful, and exhaled a long sigh of relief.

“She pressed me relentlessly, saying that while you and your daughter may be cultivators, you are still young women, and such items remain indispensable for ladies.”

In truth, Qíngyǔ had initially intended to decline, yet seeing Yang Qi’s somewhat pained expression—as if he had a toothache (TL Note: A Chinese idiom describing an awkward or difficult situation.)—and realizing that even if she had no use for them, Little Girl likely would, she ultimately accepted the gifts.

This humble Daoist, it seemed, was now making use of luxurious items.

Smiling wryly to herself, the young woman refilled his tea once more, then remarked with a hint of nonchalance, “Sir Yang, you’ve come alone today. I doubt your visit is solely concerning these trivial ‘women’s affairs,’ is it?”

With his true intentions laid bare, Yang Qi awkwardly rubbed his hands together.

Indeed, it hadn’t been difficult to surmise. Only days prior, he had foregone his official attire, yet today, he was dressed immaculately.

He typically brought Jí Yào along wherever he went, but on this occasion, Jí Yào was absent.

It seemed he had something to discuss with her that he couldn’t divulge to his family.

“To be frank with you, young lady, just yesterday, I dispatched a letter to the imperial court.”

He shook his head, his gaze complex as he looked south, towards the seat of the imperial court.

“Sir Yang, are you planning to return to officialdom?”

Qíngyǔ, of course, understood the common plight of demoted officials: their lingering resentment, coupled with a sense of utter helplessness.

“I merely wish to wade through that mire once more.”

“Since your resolve is already firm, Sir Yang, why do you seek my counsel?”

The young woman held little interest in courtly affairs; truthfully, the restoration of the divine order did not necessitate their involvement.

Provided Song Daocong could stabilize his divine form and protect a single region, people elsewhere would naturally emulate and offer worship.

She would simply need to act when the moment was ripe.

“Yang Qingqing has embarked upon the immortal path, and I believe she will no longer be a mortal of this world,” Yang Qi stated, shaking his head. “My wife’s health is steadily improving, and there’s no longer a need to remain hidden in this secluded place for her recovery.”

“So, you wish to contend once more in that mire?”

“It’s hardly a true contention, merely a stubborn unwillingness to yield.”

“But what if you fail again?”

“Then that will simply be my fate; Yang Qi’s destiny.”

With these words, he rose and offered a deep, respectful bow to the young woman in green.

“I only ask that, should that time arrive, you, young lady, might cast a benevolent eye upon the Yang Manor and lend it your care.”

‘He was entrusting his family to her care, then.’

Hearing these words, Qíngyǔ felt a complex swirl of emotions. In her previous life, numerous officials had similarly entrusted their families to her, though often it merely served to add new disciples to her sect.

The defeated were legion, while those who achieved success were few and far between.

“Of course, I can agree to that,” the young woman said, shaking her head. ‘Such obstinate individuals always remain so.’ “But, Sir Yang, have you truly considered why you must embark on this journey?”

“Of course… I haven’t thought it through.”

Hearing her words, Yang Qi let out a soft chuckle, then rose and exhaled a long breath.

“If the reason remains unknown, then why proceed?”

“Throughout my life, I, Yang Qi, have had few true friends. Song Ming, however, is like a son to me. I spoke with him yesterday, and I wonder, young lady, what do you suppose he told me?”

Qíngyǔ cast him a surprised glance, and after a moment of contemplation, ventured, “He banished you?”

“He dares?!” Yang Qi chuckled, stroking his white beard. “He said, ‘Teacher, with your old bones, I fear you’ll be utterly annihilated if you go this time.'”

“Then you beat him up?”

“Indeed. I gave that lad two smacks with the discipline ruler (TL Note: A wooden ruler traditionally used by teachers for corporal punishment or maintaining order.), telling him that such ill-omened words, I couldn’t imagine who they were meant for.”

Qíngyǔ, too, could comprehend this profound bond between master and disciple.

Before her ascension to immortality in her previous life, many disciples had desperately sought every conceivable method to prolong her lifespan. They had exhausted every plea, both kind and harsh, playing both the benevolent and stern roles.

Yet, knowing full well it was impossible, how could she have possibly acceded to their entreaties?

“Then, Sir Yang, you should go.”

The young woman had nothing more to impart to him, and while she remained unaware of his ultimate objective, she knew him to be an upright official whose integrity was unyielding.

“Once the court’s letter arrives, I will depart.”

Yang Qi nodded. For reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, whenever he conversed with Qíngyǔ about serious matters, he invariably felt as though he were addressing a centenarian, rather than a young woman barely in her teens.

“Before you go, please drink this cup of tea.”

With a slight pang of reluctance, Qíngyǔ retrieved a single leaf of Pure Rain—a gift from Sir Zi—and brewed it for Yang Qi.

Yang Qi, perceiving it merely as a farewell tea, waited for the steam to dissipate before lifting the cup and gulping it down in a single, unhesitating swallow—too swiftly for Qíngyǔ to even intervene.

“Yet, it is excellent tea!”

Having drained the tea, Yang Qi cupped his hands in a respectful salute to the young woman. Without lingering, he turned and departed with an air of carefree resolve.

The intense midday sun blurred his retreating figure into a hazy outline, as if he were stepping into another realm entirely.

Only once his figure vanished from the doorway did Qíngyǔ rise again to pull the creaking main door shut.

‘Once she had the means, she truly needed to renovate this humble courtyard.’

Lost in thought, the young woman drew a sheet of Xuan paper from her sleeve, laid it upon the stone table, and immediately set pen to paper.

“Resolve.”

Her intention solidified into ink.

Yet, the character ‘Resolve’ she wrote was incomplete, possessing perhaps ninety percent of its spiritual essence, but still lacking a vital breath.

Qíngyǔ silently put away her writing implements and returned to the stone table, where the grapevines gently swayed, brushing her shoulder as if in comfort.

She knew, in truth, what she lacked; the meaning illuminated by the character was something she had long understood.

However, this current self held no such ambition, thus making it impossible to fully manifest.

“Hah—Mom, what are you doing?”

Little Girl finally awoke, emerging from the inner room with a yawn and rubbing her eyes.

“Just thinking.”

The young woman habitually extended her hands, and the girl happily scurried into her embrace.

“Morning Mom smells so good!”

“It’s almost afternoon.”

“It still smells good, anyway!”

“Alright, alright…”

Helplessly, Qíngyǔ untangled the girl’s messy hair, then sent her off to wash up.

‘Actually, I should have aspirations.’

‘At least in my previous-previous life, I did, and at the beginning of my previous life too.’

Sighing, Qíngyǔ decided to temporarily set the matter aside. Deep contemplation was detrimental to her Dao heart; for now, it was better to focus on arranging Little Girl’s cultivation.