Chapter Forty-Six: Stories in Books Deceive Children

The heat was unbearable, yet he seemed completely unaffected. Clad in flowing robes of violet, he looked strikingly handsome. A gentle breeze stirred, making his wide sleeves billow like clouds. Though his steps appeared unhurried, he soon stood before me.

“Master,” I called.

I was sitting on the ground, knees hugged to my chest, gazing up at him with a pitiful look. But when I saw the slight furrow of his brow and the faint displeasure in his eyes, the grievance I had been ready to pour out was swallowed down. I ducked my head, not daring to say another word or even meet his gaze.

“Are you tired? Is it too much for you to keep going?” he asked after a while.

“Yes,” I nodded to him.

Just as I looked at him expectantly, hoping for some sign of concern, his response was calm and distant: “A few more miles ahead lies the marketplace. Once we reach it, you’ll feel better. You’re still young, it’s true, but you are a boy. If you cannot endure even this hardship, how will you ever learn immortal arts with me, bring honor to Lingyun Mountain, or help protect the Six Realms?”

“But…” I almost blurted out, “But I am a girl.” Yet his tightly knitted brows made me swallow the words. I remembered that Zilian had no intention of accepting a female disciple. If he discovered my true identity now, he might abandon me on the spot and return to Lingyun Mountain alone, never wishing to see me again. Such an outcome, I truly could not bear.

“Very well, rest here for a while. I’ll go on ahead. Catch up soon,” he said lightly, striding forward and leaving me behind.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be—not at all! I’d collected so many little romances between masters and disciples in my palace, and none of them read like this. In them, the master was always as gentle as could be, endlessly considerate.

I stared dazedly at that distant violet figure, unable to understand how things had unfolded so differently from what I’d imagined. According to the stories I’d read, Zilian should have been deeply distressed over my exhaustion, then come to cradle me in his arms, soothing me with soft words. But reality was nothing like that. Far from comforting me, Zilian couldn’t even be bothered to spare me a glance—he simply left me behind.

Hmph! To think that after reading so many love stories for thousands of years, I believed pursuing Zilian would be so much easier. Yet, at this crucial moment, not a single thing I’d read had come to my aid.

It seemed those little romances weren’t to be trusted after all. Perhaps those tragic and moving tales of forbidden love between master and disciple were just stories to entertain children. I, Yuge, would never believe in them again.

But even as I grumbled and sulked, I couldn’t let Zilian leave me behind like this. After resting a while and feeling a bit better, I looked up to see his figure shrinking into the distance, nearly vanishing from sight. Panic seized me, and I sprang to my feet, brushed off my clothes, and hurried after him.

“Master! Master, wait for Little Fish!” I called out, waving my arms as I ran. He didn’t turn, but when he reached a large, leafy tree, he finally stopped.

“Master, wait for me!” I cried, delighted that he’d paused. To make sure he didn’t forget me and continue on alone, I kept calling him as I ran, scampering up to stand before him.

“Tired?”

He asked me.

“Yes, very tired.” Since it seemed he was showing concern, I couldn’t help but try to act a little spoiled.

“This tree’s shade is deep. You can rest here a while if you’re truly exhausted,” he said.

“Will you rest with me, Master?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my brow with my sleeve and smiling up at him.

“No,” he shook his head. After a brief silence, he added, “I’m not tired. I’ll go on ahead. Catch up when you’re ready.”

With that, he turned and prepared to leave.