As a proud disciple of Master Yin Xue, renowned across the realm for her genius in healing and alchemy, Song iyu had grown up in the halls of the fad Xuanyi Pavilion. People traveled from mountains, rivers, and beyond, seeking cures for ailnts as bizarre as barking hiccups or invisible freckles. But behind that legendary skill and unmatched brilliance, Master Yin Xue was also the kind of person who considered practical jokes a spiritual practice.
Master Yin Xue’s humor was the stuff of legend. She didn’t need fireworks or fanfare, just the right comnt delivered with razor-sharp timing. If soone tripped on thin air or managed to blow up a potion labeled “absolutely do not shake,” she wouldn’t scold. Instead, she’d lift one elegant eyebrow and declare, “Ah, what a fine example of how not to do things.”
So, when Song iyu unrolled that scroll and watched it spill across the floor like a particularly judgntal red carpet, she didn’t need to guess. A list that long? through mountains and swamps and possibly haunted caves? This wasn’t a list. It was a trap wrapped in parchnt and sealed with affection. That scroll was Master Yin Xue’s way of saying: Have fun, dears. Try not to die creatively.
The others gathered around, staring at the scroll like it might bite. Shen Zhenyu crossed his arms, already suspicious of anything involving swamps. He Yuying made a noise sowhere between a sigh and a groan. They didn’t even need to speak.
They had to admire the commitnt. Even from afar, Master Yin Xue was finding ways to make their journey a little more...morable.
It seed the decision had already been made. Without Linyue's knowledge, consent, or even her basic present. She had only stepped away for a mont and when she returned, in that suspiciously short span of ti the trio had sohow gone from “should we go too?” to “we’re all packed and ready.” And sohow, they had also managed to get Master Tian Mo’s permission, which was the most suspicious part of all.
"So…" Linyue began slowly, arms folding, her gaze sweeping across the three culprits, scanning for guilty expressions. "How exactly did you get Master Tian Mo to agree?"
Shen Zhenyu offered a mysterious smile that said everything and absolutely nothing at once. The kind that could say, It’s complicated, Don’t worry about it, and You’ll regret asking, all at once. Song iyu tried (and failed) to look innocent. He Yuying was suddenly fascinated with the clouds, the ground, and possibly an imaginary butterfly passing by, literally anything that wasn’t Linyue’s gaze.
The three of them were, unfortunately, very much Linyue’s martial siblings—disciples under the sa roof. If Master Yin Xue was mischief in elegant robes, then Master Tian Mo was…well, shaless, utterly, hopelessly shaless. He was the kind of man who could lie with a straight face, charm a coin out of a miser, convince a rooster it was a duck, and still walk away with a free al and a story to justify it.
Linyue’s mind drifted as she imagined how the whole negotiation might have played out. She could already hear the nonsense argunts, the flattery, the artful dodging of logic, all delivered with smiling faces and suspiciously good tea. With these three involved, no one, not even the great Master Tian Mo stood a chance.
In her mind, she imagined it unfolding perfectly:
Senior Brother Zhenyu, with his calm but devious logic, would have started first. He would’ve stepped forward with that serious face of his.
“Master,” he might have said, “Think about it. If we don’t go with Junior Sister Linyue, what if sothing happens to her? We’d spend the rest of our lives haunted by guilt. And worse…” he’d pause for dramatic effect, “you’ll be haunted by her ghost, probably scolding you every morning while you try to eat your stead buns.”
Linyue could almost hear Master Tian Mo’s eye roll in response, but the seed would have been planted.
Then Song iyu, ever the dramatist, would have jumped in with a flair that could put the best actors to sha.
“Master!” she would have cried, clutching her hands to her chest like a tragic heroine. “It’s fate! The stars are aligned, the wind is favorable, and I’ve already packed my ointnts!” She probably would’ve flung a few jars of said ointnts into the air for added effect. “Besides, if I don’t go, who will stop Senior Brother Zhenyu from turning this into one of his mysterious, brooding, silent-monk journeys?? Think of the atmosphere, Master! It will be a disaster.”
And, as if that wasn’t enough, He Yuying would’ve chid in with his usual brand of confusion mixed with weird effectiveness.
“Also, Master,” he’d say, scratching his head innocently, “I heard the south has…um…phoenix mushrooms! Didn’t you once say phoenix mushrooms boost cultivation and prevent back pain? What if we never get this chance again?” He’d finish with an almost apologetic shrug, as if the mushrooms were the only logical reason to go at all.
Finally, to seal the deal, one of them probably Song iyu (since she had the best instinct for flattery) would’ve delivered the finishing blow with voice dripping with admiration.
“Only a Master as enlightened as you would understand how important this trip is for our developnt. Any other master would’ve said no imdiately…but you, Master, you see the bigger picture. You know how to nurture your disciples in ways no one else could.”
Linyue could just imagine the shaless grin spreading across Master Tian Mo’s face at that last bit. There was no way he could resist the combination of guilt, drama, and complints thicker than stead buns. And before long, they would’ve had him agreeing to let them all go along on the journey, probably with so exaggerated sense of their own importance, of course.
Her gaze shifted to the trio in the room, “Unbelievable,” she muttered. “I leave for one second and co back to a conspiracy.”
Song iyu flashed a bright smile. “Not a conspiracy. A collaboration.”
“Without ,” Linyue pointed out.
“Well, soone had to be surprised,” Shen Zhenyu said with a shrug.
Linyue rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched. She really should’ve known better.
In the quiet stillness of early morning, while the rest of the world still clung to dreams and the comforting embrace of warm blankets, four figures slipped out of Xuanyi Pavilion like a well-organized escape plan, or perhaps a slightly chaotic one.
The sun had barely risen, casting a soft golden glow over the misty rooftops, and the streets were still yawning awake. It was the perfect ti to begin a grand journey: peaceful, quiet, and most importantly, too early for second thoughts.
At the head of this noble expedition was Shen Zhenyu, looking as composed as ever, as though the dawn had politely asked his permission before rising.
Right beside him, Linyue matched his stride, her pace steady and her face a portrait of calm endurance, betrayed only by the faint look that said: This was supposed to be a solo trip. How did I get roped into a group expedition? She was already ntally bracing for whatever chaos lay ahead.
Song iyu practically bounced at their side, energy already at maximum. With her infamous ten-ter-long herb list tucked under one arm, she was already scanning bushes and roadside weeds. “Oh! That flower might be dicinal!” she chirped every few steps, undeterred by the fact that they were still within walking distance of the pavilion gate.
And trailing just a bit behind, He Yuying carried enough luggage for all four of them and looked like he was already regretting his life choices. He may have muttered sothing about phoenix mushrooms and betrayal, but no one really heard him over Song iyu’s running comntary on leaf veins and root shapes.
Thus, with mismatched energy levels and questionable levels of preparation, the journey to the south officially began.
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