Chapter 28: Grace

In a small tower deep within the Zhao Fu, the Seventh Young Master stood amid heavy curtains, head bowed, refusing to look at the lady on the bed, keeping a full zhang’s distance from the couch.

No one spoke.

The maid standing beside the couch breathed so lightly, and the several girls playing soft music in the corner had long since slipped away silently.

Aside from the faint tinkling of jade rings clinking as the wind stirred the curtains, not a single sound remained.

Finally, the lady broke the silence.

“Fan’er, how long has it been since you came to see me?”

The Seventh Young Master remained silent, saying nothing and not lifting his head.

“Why are we so distant when mother and son meet? You stand so far away—you won’t even look at your own mother?”

The Seventh Young Master raised his head, his gaze falling on the lady’s face, yet his eyes held no emotion.

Though they were mother and son, their faces looked nearly the same age.

To the eye, the lady appeared no more than a woman in her early twenties, her hair loosely tied into a bun, a few strands of black hair falling against her slightly upturned lips—languid, yet radiating an air of utter self-possession.

“Why did you summon me?”

The Seventh Young Master asked.

“I heard you were quite pleased with the two new page boys—you kept them both?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You are my child, I am your mother. Your affairs, I care for every single one.” As if accustomed to her son’s insolence, the lady’s face remained gentle.

The Seventh Young Master let out a soft snort.

“Your mother is delighted. Since childhood, you’ve been aloof, never close to anyone. That these two page boys have caught your eye is their fortune—and it lifts a burden from my heart.” The lady continued.

“Thank you for your concern,” the Seventh Young Master said, his mockery barely contained.

“I know you don’t trust me,” the lady’s gaze remained tender: “But you are still my child. Every blade of grass, every tree beside you—I wish I had planted them myself. Every person near you—I must carefully choose and guard them, so you won’t be deceived.”

“So what?”

“So I want to ask—why do you value them?”

“They suit my taste,” the Seventh Young Master replied simply.

“Is that so? One is a plain boy raised on a farm, the other the son of a steward—and both instantly suit your taste? Fan’er, your standards aren’t this low.”

The Seventh Young Master fell silent for a moment before reluctantly speaking: “Gao Yuan works diligently and honestly, he’s read books—he’s useful for chores around me, and will one day assist me in managing the household.”

“As for Zheng Fa, he has exceptional talent in talisman arts. Studying talismans with him helps me progress faster.”

The lady nodded, seemingly accepting his explanation—then suddenly shook her head: “Zheng Fa’s talent is indeed fine, but keeping Gao Yuan—was that truly your decision?”

“...”

“Why would a young master listen to a page boy like Zheng Fa?”

The Seventh Young Master’s fist clenched tightly, his gaze toward the lady flickering with suppressed anger.

“Ah, Zheng Fa reminds you of yourself,” the lady said, as if unsurprised: “You still resent me for not letting you join the Qingmu Sect—and letting your sister go instead.”

“Sister and I both have dual elemental roots. According to Qingmu Sect’s rules, our Zhao family should have two slots for dual-root disciples...”

The Seventh Young Master’s voice was low.

“But back then, there was only one slot—just like the dilemma you gave Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan.”

“Was the other slot truly unavailable—or did our great-grandfather take it?”

“Fan’er! If you harbor resentment toward me, I am your mother—I can tolerate you!” The lady rose from the couch: “But your great-grandfather is a Jin Dan cultivator—how dare a junior like you speak of him so?”

“I dare not,” the Seventh Young Master lowered his head.

The lady’s tone softened slightly: “I am your great-grandfather’s least favored granddaughter—I’ve never had much dignity before him. Fan’er, you must never speak such words outside.”

"I understand, Jin Dan cultivator... why would he still compete for my Zhao family's apprenticeship slot?"

“I only know the broad outline,” the lady said, her face showing sorrow for the first time: “According to your great-grandfather, the spiritual energy of the Xuanwei Realm has been slowly declining over the past ten thousand years. The great ones of the immortal sects predict that spiritual energy will grow ever thinner, insufficient to support more cultivators.”

“Ten thousand years ago, a dual-root like you, Fan’er, would have easily entered the Qingmu Sect—even been considered an outstanding talent,” the lady looked at him with pity: “But now, even dual-root disciples must compete for slots. Only single-root—or better—qualifications are deemed true geniuses worth taking in.”

“So over these thousand years, fewer and fewer from our Zhao family have entered the Qingmu Sect?”

“Precisely. Your great-grandfather, though a Jin Dan cultivator, cannot ensure every descendant achieves their wish.”

“So you sacrificed me?” The Seventh Young Master’s voice turned bitter again.

“...” The lady merely looked at him, saying nothing.

The Seventh Young Master took two deep breaths, finally suppressing his emotions: “Mother, you couldn’t keep two entry slots—but I will keep these two.”

“Fine.”

“Mother?”

“Since that incident, what have I ever refused you? Even when you acted recklessly, didn’t I still tolerate you? Even if you’re useless, this Zhao Fu will one day be yours...”

The Seventh Young Master lowered his eyes: “But I... cannot accept it.”

The lady rose and reached out, wanting to touch her son—who now stood nearly taller than she.

The Seventh Young Master stepped back. Her hand hung in the air; after a moment of silence, she said: “Both may stay by your side—but Zheng Fa...”

“What about Zheng Fa?”

“I know you admire his spirit. Since he has talent, some defiance is acceptable,” the lady said, her tone calm yet cold: “But spirit alone isn’t enough. We must see if he truly has the mind for it.”

“Mother!” The Seventh Young Master grew anxious.

“Don’t worry—I won’t harm him. Since spiritual energy has dwindled, the hundred arts of cultivation have gained greater value. Why else do I urge you to study talisman arts? If you truly succeed, you might even enter the Qingmu Sect. If he has this talent, it benefits our Zhao family. I will grant him greater grace.”

“Bring out the Linghe Shen and give it to Xu Jiaotou—he knows what to do,” the lady said to the maid beside her.

“The Linghe Shen? Are you going to teach it to Zheng Fa too?” The Seventh Young Master was startled.

“His mother and sister are still on the estate?” the lady replied, not answering directly, but pausing to think: “Find a time in the next two days to bring them here and settle them in the house.”

The Seventh Young Master was speechless.

This was indeed a tremendous grace.

“Fan’er, remember—for true geniuses, bonds of gratitude are the strongest chains.”

“What if... he’s not grateful?”

“So I’ve prepared him one final grace. Your sister has already entered the inner sect—she’ll return to stay after the New Year.”

“Sister?”

“As an inner sect disciple, your sister may bring two attendants into the Qingmu Sect. If Zheng Fa truly has the talent to become a talisman master—and masters the Linghe Shen—I will grant him one of those attendant slots.”

“Mother, he’s mine!” The Seventh Young Master protested.

“Then,” the lady smiled faintly, “will he understand this?”

“...Who could ever refuse the lure of entering an immortal sect?”

“Then, you will have truly grown up...”

She touched the top of the Seventh Young Master’s head. This time, the usually distant son did not pull away.