Chapter 130: Shuyi, Call Me Brother

Beneath a sky full of stars, Ji You sat cross-legged in the quiet courtyard, having finished washing up, and now roasted sweet potatoes by the stove.

Not long after, the sweet, pleasant aroma rose steadily with the rising heat of the fire.

At this moment, the howling sword qi from the peak nearby had gradually subsided.

The wind ceased; the trees grew still.

Only smoke from the rooftop drifted upward, merging into the night clouds.

Ji You glanced toward the direction of Tianque, then lowered his gaze, rose, and walked to the tea table to brew tea.

The tea leaves in this courtyard were extraordinarily precious, nothing like the coarse, bulk brews Cao Jingsong favored.

As the hot water poured into the teapot, a rich tea fragrance instantly spread through the night, illuminated by candlelight, growing deeper and more fragrant.

Soon, three graceful figures descended the mountain and halted atop the slope.

Due to the slope, their gazes easily crossed over the courtyard wall, following the candlelight spilling through the window into the interior.

There, the tall man stood freshly bathed, his skin fair as snow, his brow sharp as a sword’s edge, lifting the teapot with water flowing like a pillar.

The three stared at this figure, frozen in silence.

Before nightfall, everyone assumed the story was about a Tian Shu Academy disciple obsessed with swordplay, who shattered the Sword Forest but was driven away by the Sword Peak’s chief.

Yet no one expected that after nightfall, Qi Zhengyang would appear on Xuanjian Peak and bow deeply before the Little Mirror Master.

He had been taken away not to learn swordplay, but to secure a sword to protect the orthodox lineage of Lingjian Mountain.

The Little Mirror Master possessed countless swords, all peerless treasures renowned across the realm, and Shang Xiyao’s gift was especially precious.

That sword was said to have cost an astronomical price, forged by an extremely famed swordsmith.

He crafted it from the hardest metal in Qingyun, spending years just refining the blank.

Earlier, in the Sword Vault, Ding Yao had tried to stop Ji You from taking the sword, sneering inwardly—this was why.

In her view, the sword Shang Xiyao had given was already the finest.

Ji You’s so-called gift, no matter how good, could never surpass it; and the phrase “delivered after nightfall” sounded like an excuse to delay.

But when Qi Zhengyang appeared on Xuanjian Peak, his sword qi sweeping over the peak, she realized it was a sword none of the Vault’s swords combined could match.

For some swords are made to please, but others are forged to protect.

Before completing the three tasks, he never spoke of them to anyone; after completing them, he remained as calm as ever, as if it were a trivial matter.

“Young Master… what is he doing?”

After a long silence, Zhuo Wanqiu spoke unconsciously.

In her line of sight, Ji You picked up a cup with furtive hesitation, set it down, then picked it up again.

“He’s debating whether, since no one’s around, he can sneakily use my cup.”

Yan Shuyi murmured softly, but after speaking, she felt something was off—yet couldn’t pinpoint what—so she turned to glance at Zhuo Wanqiu.

Zhuo Wanqiu stared at the surrounding night, expression unchanged, as if nothing had happened.

Then the three pushed open the gate and entered the courtyard, where Ji You lifted his head slightly, rose, and used a fire hook to pull out several sweet potatoes from the stove.

“Why would Qi Zhengyang come to my Xuanjian Peak?”

“His sword heart no longer permits him to remain on Tianjian Peak. Today, he must either draw his sword or fall into qi deviation.”

Ji You placed the sweet potatoes on the table: “Only when I reached the Third Grove did I confirm the true direction of his sword intent. After much thought, I knew I had to break through the Grove, so I took one extra step—I gifted you a sharp sword.”

Hearing this, Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu bit their lips.

The Sword Forest had stood for years; only he could sense Qi Zhengyang’s true sword intent through its qi.

More astonishingly, within a single hour, he not only shattered the entire Forest, but also successfully arranged the matter of petitioning the Mirror Master for the sword—hard to believe.

“Next time, make a bigger stove, lay the charcoal flat, roast vegetables and meat on skewers.”

Yan Shuyi sat neatly on the blanket: “Oh, I’ll make one tomorrow.”

“No rush. After tonight, I’ll likely descend the mountain with the Academy’s group.”

Ji You spoke seriously, hinting: You should sigh now—this opportunity won’t come again for a long time.

Yan Shuyi then remembered the Tian Shu Academy disciples had finished their Dao inquiry, so she narrowed her eyes, looking displeased.

Come to think of it, once I return, I’ll probably have to resume banditry again.

Ji You peeled a sweet potato, murmuring.

He had exactly three thousand taels in his pocket: a thousand sent to Yuyang County, some given to Kuangcheng, a thousand spent on pills and the sword, and a thousand mailed to Yan Shuyi.

Now he realized money truly didn’t last.

But it had been over half a month since he left; Cao Jixi and Wang Jixi’s monthly stipends should’ve been issued again.

Before leaving, Kuangcheng said he might be promoted—he’d likely get a larger share.

Thinking of this, Ji You felt his purse swelling again, though not a single tael belonged to him.

Yan Shuyi watched him sink into thought; beneath the table, her jade foot swayed gently, pink toes curling and relaxing, then extended a slender, ivory-white hand toward the table.

After a long pause, she finally chose the cup she’d seen only thrice, lifted it to her lips, and sipped slowly.

Ji You caught it out of the corner of his eye, remained expressionless, determined not to refuse, eager to encourage—but dared not speak plainly.

“Before we leave, Ding Yao must apologize to my senior sister. That day in the ruins, you intercepted her, yet she offered the Zhuguo fruit without resistance—yet you still pursued her relentlessly. In truth, you were wrong.”

Ding Yao fell silent for a long while, then softly pressed her lips: “Yes, Young Master…”

As her words ended, Yan Shuyi and Ji You paused slightly, cups and sweet potatoes halting—but then resumed, swallowing tea and flesh without reaction.

Personal maids obey only their mistress’s orders; if another of higher rank commands them, they require their mistress’s permission.

Of course, Ding Yao, though raised as a personal maid, was restless and often disobeyed orders.

But when her mistress was present, she should never act thus—especially since she strongly resented the Mirror Master’s closeness to Ji You.

This “Young Master” was the first time she’d ever used it.

Titles carry distinctions of intimacy: Ji You, Ji Young Master, Young Master—though similar, their degrees of closeness differ.

“Ji You” is how she, as a Lingjian Mountain inner disciple and sister-like companion to the Xuanjian Peak’s Little Mirror Master, would address him.

“Ji Young Master” is how she addresses him before the Mirror Master, feigning obedience.

“Young Master” is the true, earnest honorific a maid uses for her master’s family.

At that moment, Yan Shuyi’s voice came from inside: “Wanqiu, there’s someone outside the door—go see.”

“Yes, Mirror Master!”

Zhuo Wanqiu rose swiftly, pulled Ding Yao out, shut the door tightly, then stood at the threshold, quietly eating sweet potatoes.

Who would be wandering about at this hour?

Besides, this area is already within Tianque’s jurisdiction; ordinary people cannot ascend without permission.

This isn’t someone outside the door—soon there’ll be someone inside…

Yan Shuyi set down her teacup, ate the sweet potato without glancing aside, her arms lifting slightly at her sides, leaving a gap along her slender waist wide enough for a man’s arms to encircle—yet her expression remained coldly impassive.

After waiting long, the Little Mirror Master blinked, seeing no improper move from the man, and turned her head curiously.

Ji You sat upright at the table, like a virtuous gentleman: back straight, eyes on nose, nose on heart, utterly focused.

“What… are you doing?”

[What are you doing? Why haven’t you come over and embraced me without my permission?]

Ji You held his breath, then spoke softly: “Shuyi, call me brother.”

The Little Mirror Master stiffened; suddenly, the teacup before her trembled, tea splashing out, and her beautiful eyes flared with sudden killing intent.

That killing intent pierced through the roof, howling through the courtyard—Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu’s swords at their waists began violently trembling, as if eager to leap free.

Yet both remained expressionless, as if long accustomed—even as the clinking of blades filled their ears, they didn’t turn.

Inside, the two figures wrestled, occasional pale feet flying toward each other, fragrant winds swirling.

In the end, the dignified Little Mirror Master of Lingjian Mountain got exactly what she wanted—held in the stranger’s arms—but her plump toes now bore a tooth mark.

She’d been forcibly embraced…

Ji You held the warm, soft Little Mirror Master close, feeling the round pressure against his arm, and closed his eyes, murmuring silently.

He wanted Yan Shuyi to sigh for him—but he’d been overpowered instead.

Have I been trained?

Will this always be how it is now?

The Little Mirror Master, meanwhile, looked smug, holding her teacup, swaying her snow-white foot.

She’d been carried along the mountain path “without permission” so many times now, she’d grown desensitized—not stiff as she was the first time, but perfectly pliant.

A beauty of sixteen, body like silk, her waist bears a sword that cuts down mortals.

Though no head falls, secretly she drains your marrow dry.

Long after, stars and moon shifted, the night deepened, then faded, until the horizon whitened.

Ji You lifted the teapot, poured tea into the cup, sipped—and found the flavor as bland as water.

Yan Shuyi slept pressed against his chest, lips slightly parted, a glistening strand of drool at the corner, her expression sweetly innocent.

Occasionally, she’d nuzzle and shift, round, flat, round.

Cultivators need not sleep, yet sleep is ancient, etched into all living things’ blood—even if unnecessary, comfort naturally brings slumber.

After a long while, he felt his collar tugged; up rose a stunning yet foolishly dazed face, gazing at him blankly.

Then, as if thinking, she slowly returned to awareness, her brow furrowed, and she looked again—sword qi rising in her eyes.

Ji You, seeing the Little Mirror Master’s morning grumpiness, suddenly understood: “Little Mirror Master, as expected—you even sleep with such dignity.”

“...”

“A mere Tian Shu Academy disciple, yet you have some insight.”

(End of Chapter)