Chapter Twenty-One: Transformed into a Flower Thief

I silently cursed myself for being too talkative, wishing I could slap myself several times. Raising my eyes, I met Yunxiang Muyu’s suspicious gaze. I hurried to explain, “This morning, outside the palace gates, while resting with those who had come seeking a master on the mountain, Yuge happened to overhear them speaking of these matters. Out of curiosity, I could not help but ask a few questions, and only then did I learn of this news. Senior Sister need not take it seriously—Yuge merely heard about it and cannot yet determine whether these words are true or false.”

Her expression grew solemn, her delicate brows knit as she replied, “This is of great importance. Whether true or false, since rumors are spreading through the Six Realms, Lingyun Mountain cannot simply ignore them as though nothing was heard.”

Such prudence—truly worthy of being Yuanxu’s most accomplished disciple.

“Yuge, the Sect Leader Uncle is in Biyun Pavilion. Go and seek him yourself. I will report this matter to Third Master and my own master, so that we may prepare for any possible incursion from the Demon Realm, and guard against a sudden attack on Lingyun Mountain that might harm our fellow cultivators.”

“Yes, Senior Sister.”

With that, she no longer paid me any heed. A gentle breeze brushed my face, and Yunxiang Muyu had already departed from Qingluan Hall.

Passing through the front hall, a curved stone bridge appeared before me, spanning from the opposite bank to the rear door of the hall. Beneath the bridge lay a pond, its surface adorned with purple lotuses and lush green leaves.

The lotus leaves were tender and green, with droplets of crystal-clear dew shimmering atop them. As the wind stirred the leaves, the dew trembled lightly, never rolling off, resembling playful children jumping about on the leaves, lively and full of spirit.

Purple lotuses—this was the first time in my life I had seen such flowers. Purple lotuses, their blossoms radiant; surely all these lotuses in the pond had been planted by him with his own hands.

My heart brimmed with joy, and I could not help but reach out to touch them.

“Who goes there?”

Just as I stepped closer to the riverbank, hand outstretched but not yet touching the stalk, a male voice rang out, tinged with curiosity.

I stopped, turned, and looked around carefully, yet found no trace of anyone near the pond. It seemed the sun had been beating down so long that my ears had begun playing tricks on me—I must be hearing things.

So I moved forward a little more, hoping to come closer to the purple lotus.

“Who are you?”

The man's voice sounded again, warm and low with a hint of magnetism, like jade striking water, though it carried a trace of anger.

Turning, I saw the purple lotus standing not far behind me, his brows slightly furrowed, his face displeased as he gazed at me.

A thousand years had passed. Our first formal meeting after a millennium—I pondered what words I could offer to leave a good impression. That purple lotus within reach now held no more allure; instead, I prepared to greet him with a cheerful smile.

“It’s a misunderstanding—a misunderstanding.”

Thankfully, he called out in time to prevent me from picking the flower, or I would have committed a grave offense. Purple Lotus is fond of lotuses; if he saw me picking them, I might be expelled as his disciple just as soon as I had been accepted.

Chuckling awkwardly, I offered him a fawning smile and explained, “I simply saw the lotus blooming so beautifully in the pond, so tender and lovely, and was overcome with admiration. I wanted to draw the flower closer and smell its fragrance—just to enjoy its scent, not to pluck it.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like these lotuses?”

“Yes, yes, Master,” I replied, nodding enthusiastically.

His brows creased further, “You like these lotuses and wish to draw near, but I wonder—do the lotuses welcome your approach?”

Such words wounded my heart.

Stunned, I stared at him in disbelief. Was this person before me my Purple Lotus?