"Yes, fine, the man has a jawline carved by the gods and hair like spun silk, but he has the personality of a wet rock! You want to abandon the Drunken Sword to go stare at his pretty face?! I forbid it!"
Ji’an stared at her Master for a long, agonizingly silent mont. She slowly dragged a hand down her face, letting out a groan of pure, concentrated exhaustion.
’God riddance. He thinks I have a crush on Elder Qin?!’ Ji’an realized that her soul was leaving her body. ’He thinks I’m a teenage boy with a tragic infatuation for a three-hundred-year-old ice cube??? The heck is wrong with this old man?!’
"Master," Ji’an said, her voice terrifyingly flat. "I am only sixteen years old, and that Elder Qin is an old hag. I do not have ’designs’ on his pretty face! I would rather deep-fry my own boots than spend five minutes talking to that man!"
Jiu Zui stopped pacing. "You... you don’t?"
"No!" Ji’an yelled, throwing her hands up. "I am going to see Xie Wangchen! We are sworn, brothers! We survived an entrance exam together! I promised him crispy pork belly if he won his match under a minute, and unlike so people in this sect, I actually honor my culinary debts!"
She pointed her spatula warningly at the Sovereign.
"Do not push your petty, century-old generational squabbles onto the youth! You and Elder Qin can have your dramatic, unresolved rivalry on your own ti. Leave my Little Puddle and out of it!"
Jiu Zui stared at her, the fierce, protective anger slowly deflating. He scratched the back of his ssy head, a faint, embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks.
"Sworn brothers, huh?" Jiu Zui muttered, picking up his fallen stool. "Right. Well. I suppose kids your age should have so friends to cultivate feelings and build connections. Building a network is important. But that Ice Demon boy... he’s intense, Ji’an. He looks at you like a starving wolf looking at a rabbit. Be careful around that brat, too. Those guys on Qin’s Peak, none of them are good!"
’...And undeserving of my cute little disciple!’ Of Course, this thought was kept omitted by Jiu Zui, not saying it out loud in front of Lin Ji’an.
"He looks at like a starving wolf looking at dinner," Ji’an corrected confidently, patting her lunchbox. "And I am the one holding the food. I have him completely dosticated. So relax, Master."
Jiu Zui let out a long, reluctant sigh. Even though he hated the idea of his precious new apprentice setting foot on his rival’s peak, he couldn’t bring himself to deny her. He was already hopelessly indulging her.
"Fine," Jiu Zui grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting. "Go deliver your pork. Cultivate your feelings. But if Qin Changxu even looks at you funny, you send a flare up, and I will personally co down there and turn his pristine courtyard into a crater."
"Thanks, Master. You’re the best," Ji’an grinned, giving him a cheerful salute before turning on her heel and marching out into the morning sunlight.
***
The journey to the Eternal Cloud Peak was an exercise in extre temperature drops and ridiculous social dynamics.
As Ji’an crossed the ornate suspension bridges linking the Inner Sect peaks, the disciples she passed reacted to her presence as if she were a walking, talking paradox.
They saw the gray apron.
But they also saw the pristine white silk beneath it, and the glowing jade token of a Third Generation disciple hanging from her belt.
Senior disciples, n and won in their twenties who had trained for years, were suddenly leaping out of her way, pressing themselves against the bridge railings, and bowing at a full ninety-degree angle.
"Good morning, Martial Uncle Lin!" a Class 3 swordsman squeaked, his voice cracking with terror.
"Greetings, Martial Uncle! P-Please don’t turn us into stew!" a group of junior sisters chanted in unison.
Ji’an just nodded awkwardly, clutching her lunchbox tighter. ’This promotion is going to take so getting used to. I feel like a mafia boss walking through a civilian neighborhood.’
She reached the base of the Eternal Cloud Peak. The mountain was breathtakingly beautiful, covered in eternal, glittering frost.
The air was so thin and cold it stung her lungs, but the residual Yang Qi from her Harmonious Five-Grain Constitution kept her comfortably warm, creating a faint, localized halo of steam around her body.
She walked past the massive, towering ice-gates. The two elite guards stationed there didn’t cross their halberds to stop her. They practically fell over themselves bowing.
"Martial Uncle Lin! Senior Brother Xie is in the rear courtyard!" one guard stamred, pointing a trembling, frostbitten finger toward the main palace.
"Thanks," Ji’an smiled, making her way through the sprawling, silent courtyards.
As she walked, however, the confident, arrogant chef persona began to crack, replaced by a sudden, incredibly specific wave of paranoia.
’I shouldn’t have slept in,’ Ji’an thought, biting her lip.
Her mind, heavily poisoned by years of reading trashy BL web novels, began to spiral. Wangchen and Gu Zhiwei were the two main pillars of the original story.
They were destined by the heavens, the plot, and the author to end up together in a dramatic, angst-filled romance.
Yesterday, Gu Zhiwei had literally pumped his golden Sun Qi into Ji’an’s chest right in front of Wangchen.
’What if I’m losing my grip on the plot?’ Ji’an panicked silently, her boots crunching on the snow. ’What if Zhiwei’s blindingly pure, golden-retriever aura finally broke through Wangchen’s icy exterior while I was asleep? What if they had a late-night heart-to-heart? What if I walk in there and Zhiwei is already feeding him my crispy pork?!’
The sheer horror of the thought of being cucked out of her premium dishwasher and favorite test-subject made Ji’an’s pace quicken into a near jog.
She was a modern woman; she refused to wear a green hat! Even if she was currently disguised as a guy!
User Comments
0 comments from readers