2333 pressed her for a long time, but Wen Qianshu never told it the answer. It found out later, though.
It watched as they used Yan Han to leak information from Yanyun Sky and Canglan Courtyard to the demon race, causing the disciples of Five Spirits Mountain to be attacked by the snake clan.
And the Snake Repelling Pills, capable of neutralizing the poison of various snake demons, were held by Fuliu Boat.
For a time, the two sects vied for the Snake Repelling Pills to counteract the poison, leaving Fuliu Boat overwhelmed and unable to treat everyone in time. They had no choice but to first find their existing stock and administer it to a few senior disciples. Unexpectedly, after Yan Chengshuang took a Snake Repelling Pill, her condition actually worsened. Canglan Courtyard was enraged and, in their fury, collaborated with the other two sects.
Furthermore, during this incident, Canglan Courtyard relied entirely on Yan Chengshuang to hold the line, whereas Yanyun Sky had no skilled disciples to protect them. Barely able to defend themselves, they had no choice but to abandon Fuliu Boat. The pressure from the four sects ultimately forced him to hand over the formula for the Snake Repelling Pill, along with some of his alchemical arts.
Inside the room, Wen Qianshu lay on the bed, watching Yan Han stand beside her, looking down at her condescendingly. Yan Han’s eyes were emerald green. She retracted her fangs, set down a bottle of medicinal pills, and said, “You’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
Wen Qianshu glanced at her bluish arm, only to hear Yan Han say, “Senior Sister, you reacted quickly, pressing your hand onto my fangs. Otherwise, I would have been discovered. It’s just that you risked your own life, Senior Sister. The Head almost skinned me alive.”
Wen Qianshu said, “That’s a real pity.”
Yan Han smiled, but her eyes held no trace of mirth. “It’s also a real pity that you could be saved, Senior Sister.”
With that, she gave her a deep look and turned to leave.
Wen Qianshu let out a breath and looked at her dark, bruised arm. “This poison is truly vicious. The pain almost made me pass out.”
2333: “If it’s so vicious, why did you throw yourself at it?”
Wen Qianshu: “I had no choice. With her poison, any other disciple would have been dead long ago.”
“Didn’t we promise Yan Chengshuang that we’d let as few people die on Five Spirits Mountain as possible?”
2333 reminded her, “Yan Chengshuang is already dead.”
Wen Qianshu: “Alas, it doesn’t matter. I’m already dead too.”
2333: “…”
Why did that sound so strange?
“Oh, right.” Wen Qianshu stared at her arm and said abruptly, “Since Yan Han has found her target and won’t be trapped on Five Spirits Mountain until she dies, can this world line be considered repaired?”
2333 suspected she was trying to slack off. “What are you thinking? Repairing a world line is never this easy. The protagonist is fine for now, but what about later? How can you be sure she won’t collapse?”
“Oh? So it’s that difficult? In that case—” Wen Qianshu said, “we have to stay here until Yan Han dies of old age, is that it?”
2333 was about to answer when it remembered the first world Wen Qianshu had entered—there, the system hadn’t waited for Shen Ting to pass away before leaving. 2333’s heart skipped a beat. It looked at Wen Qianshu’s face but couldn’t discern any expression—she was just lying there leisurely, asking the question casually.
The wind rose and clouds gathered, the water rose and fell. A branch of Fuliu Boat swayed, hinting that a vast wind was sweeping across the land, leaving everything in plain sight.
2333 chose its words carefully. “What, you want to leave now?”
Wen Qianshu smiled and lowered her eyes. “Not at all.”
It was hard to say whether the days that followed became easier or more difficult.
With Yan Chengquan overseeing things, everything became much easier. There was no longer a need to constantly consider every detail and puzzle out every angle. But 2333 watched as Yan Han, following Yan Chengquan and Wen Qianshu, galloped far ahead on the path of “conspiracies and schemes.”
2333 was heartbroken. “Such a sweet, innocent flower, how did she become like this?”
Wen Qianshu: “Wake up. She was a snake to begin with.”
Not just any snake, but a venomous one.
Yan Han had dark hair and emerald eyes. Her phoenix eyes were bewitching, her gaze held the allure of autumn waters, and her smile was like a spring stream—but it was laced with a deadly poison. Sometimes, when she walked past, the other disciples couldn’t help but stare at her.
In the original novel, she never liked her own appearance, finding it too flamboyant. But now, she wished she could be even more ostentatious, more unrestrained. Her eyes were meant to entice, her lips to be crimson, her figure like a willow, her smile like spring. It was the essence of a flower at its peak bloom, a beauty bordering on the decadent.
“Canglan Courtyard’s second disciple is truly beautiful.”
Wen Qianshu often heard disciples from other courtyards say, “Yes, and she doesn’t have that cold, icy demeanor of Canglan Courtyard. She’s truly the most stunning beauty on all of Five Spirits Mountain.”
Wen Qianshu shot them a glance, and the disciples fell silent in alarm.
Only after she had walked past did they whisper, “Sigh, Fairy Yan is beautiful too, she just doesn’t like to smile.”
2333 felt worried. “But Yan Qingxi prefers cold beauties—”
Doesn’t that mean the male and female protagonists won’t be able to get together?
Seeing that Wen Qianshu, for once, was neither speaking nor smiling but was instead frowning in deep thought, it assumed they had finally landed on the same issue. “What do you think we should do?”
Wen Qianshu clicked her tongue and said to 2333, “The most stunning beauty on Five Spirits Mountain? What’s wrong with their eyes? Yun Cai is clearly the most beautiful. Who among this generation of disciples can compare to her?”
2333: “?”
Is that the point?
Is it?
Also, you just insulted yourself in the process, you know?
Time flew by, and Fuliu Boat was slowly being encroached upon—
Then one day, Yan Chengquan called Wen Qianshu over and said to her, “Lady Yun—”
She lowered her eyes and handed Wen Qianshu an obituary.
Lady Yun of Yanyun Sky, Head Yun’s beloved wife. Her cultivation and talent were inferior to Head Yun’s, so she usually relied on immortal pills to nourish her body and prolong her life. But a lifespan, no matter how long it is extended, must eventually come to an end.
It was said that Lady Yun passed away peacefully, yet on the day of her death, Head Yun seemed to age overnight.
Leaning on his cane, he stood in a daze. His thick beard hung down, listless and gray, as if his immortal aura had completely dissipated, leaving him a man in his twilight years.
Yun Cai stood beside him, watching as people from Five Spirits Mountain came and went. Her new weapon, “Sunset Glow,” swirled around her like an ethereal mist, moving with the wind.
After the first seven days of mourning had passed, they met again at their usual spot.
Yun Cai said suddenly, “I’m leaving.”
Wen Qianshu was taken aback. She had never once considered that Yun Cai would leave Five Spirits Mountain. She asked, “Where to?”
“I don’t know,” Yun Cai said. “Perhaps I’ll visit other immortal sects, or perhaps I’ll wander the mortal world for a while. I was born in an immortal sect, yet I don’t know what the world of mortals is like.”
Head Yun naturally wanted Yun Cai to stay on Five Spirits Mountain and even had a huge argument with her about it. Yet Yun Cai simply smiled and asked, “Will you come with me?”
Head Yun was stunned. He remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “Alright.”
He had taken on many disciples, all of whom were now fully-fledged, rubbing their palms together, eager for a chance. But he was old, too old. The status and honor he had once been able to give Yun Cai had now become her shackles and burden.
“That’s not true,” Yun Cai said. “Father, my ambitions don’t lie here.”
Then where do they lie?
Where indeed.
Yun Cai turned her gaze to Wen Qianshu, who was leaning against a willow tree. “And you?”
Will you come with me?
But she didn’t voice the second part of the question, merely averting her gaze.
“Then go,” Wen Qianshu said. “Go wherever you want. The world is vast, and beautiful scenery is everywhere.”
“True.” Yun Cai suddenly crouched down, also leaning against the willow tree. “I’ve wanted to go out and see the world for a long time—to see the mountains and rivers—”
Wen Qianshu smiled and turned her head to look at her. “You like mountains and rivers? I never would have guessed.”
Yun Cai shook her head. “I wouldn’t say I like them. I just feel that I should go see them.”
“It’s as if I failed to do so in a past life, and it’s a great regret.”
As if she had wanted to see them with someone in a past life but never got the chance.
But Yun Cai didn’t say this. She seemed to know subconsciously that these words couldn’t be said, that someone would be sad if she spoke them.
Perhaps herself, perhaps someone else.
Wen Qianshu froze. She stared blankly at Yun Cai and asked, “Is that so?”
Yun Cai also turned her head to look at her and said softly, “It is.”
Yun Cai left. She departed from Five Spirits Mountain.
Wen Qianshu began to receive letters from her intermittently—of high mountains, flowing rivers, flower lanterns, and bustling markets. Tucked inside each letter was always a fallen leaf, coated with a bit of “Sunset Glow” that depicted the scenes Yun Cai had witnessed. Wen Qianshu would read them, write a reply, and send it back.
Yun Cai was practicing medicine, saving mortals and rogue cultivators in the outside world. She finally possessed some of Fuliu Boat’s healing arts, and though she had started late, she studied diligently. She wrote to Wen Qianshu, “Today I met a mortal doctor whose medical skills were also outstanding, so I asked him to teach me.”
Wen Qianshu chuckled. Just as she was about to ask if she had succeeded, a piece of “Sunset Glow” suddenly slipped out from the letter.
Depicted upon it were vast mountain ranges under a boundless sky. Standing between them was Yun Cai, her long hair flying in the wind, still clad in her red robes.
Her beauty was exquisite, surpassing even the sunset glow.
As Wen Qianshu gazed at it, she suddenly pulled out a piece of paper, her hand reaching for a vermilion brush.
2333: “What are you doing?”
Wen Qianshu froze again. That’s right, painting with watercolors here would be far too peculiar.
Wen Qianshu: “Help me take a picture of this. It’s quite beautiful.”
2333 thought for a moment, then said hesitantly, “If you’re so moved, why don’t you just go with her?”
“Good idea.” Wen Qianshu asked again, “Did you get the picture?”
2333: “…”
Go?
How could she possibly leave?
Yan Chengquan, Yan Han, the new Head of Yanyun Sky, Yan Chengshuang’s dying wish—
Five Spirits Mountain was a whirlpool, dragging everyone down to the bottom. Ambition and desire filled the silent, vast sea, and one day, they were bound to surge ashore and turn the world upside down.
Whether for Yan Han’s sake or Yun Cai’s, Wen Qianshu had to climb higher to gain the power to protect them.
Sometimes she couldn’t stop herself from thinking: if the human and demon races truly went to war in the future, would Yun Cai be dragged into it? If Yun Cai were injured, would she be able to get the best medicinal herbs immediately? When Yun Cai grew old, would there be a place for her to live out her final years—
Wen Qianshu suddenly started laughing, but her laughter turned into a cough.
She covered her eyes.
2333: “What’s wrong?”
Wen Qianshu said, “People…”
You truly don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and you only understand through experience.
Back then, Jiang Mingyue had been the same. She stayed home, saved money, paid the utility bills, and worked tirelessly all day. If an intern she was mentoring showed talent, she would tell the rarely-home Wen Qianshu about it, occasionally dragging her out for a meeting and a meal with her students. “When we’re old and take a fall, we’ll let them do the surgery.”
Wen Qianshu had always known herself too well, known that she wasn’t a dependable person—she never had been. She had spent two lifetimes running away—from promises, from emotions, from reality, from both joy and sorrow.
She wrapped herself in a thin membrane, watching the fire from the opposite shore, deceiving herself.
Living a life of drunken dreams amidst mountains and rivers, giving the mortal world but a fleeting glance.
She thought she had escaped it all, but she had merely shifted all the burdens onto the people around her.
“You can’t keep running away,” Wen Qianshu told herself. “You have to turn back.”
You have to turn back and look, look at the one who once stood behind you, who patiently waited for you and accompanied you, but who never saw you open your heart.
Don’t let her have any more regrets.
Author’s Notes:
#2333TalkingPastEachOther#
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