Chapter 193: Cat Winter

Breaking through to a new realm is never easy; even the most gifted will hit bottlenecks—that is the Dao's limitation upon humanity.

After six months of relentless attempts to break through, the Young Master of the Mirror, who had been but one step away from the Boundless Realm, now faced an insurmountable bottleneck.

Those days, her mind was in constant turmoil; even her usual quiet chamber offered no peace.

Yan Shuyi knew that if she continued forcing her cultivation like this, her Dao heart might become tainted by demonic influence.

At that moment, snow began to fall.

Great snowfalls were unseen in Lingzhou; only a few scattered flakes drifted down.

Yet those few flakes reminded her of this time last year, of her longest journey through the mortal world, of the stranger she had visited by chance, of winter nights by the hearth, of roasted sweet potatoes for breakfast—and so the Young Master of Lingjian Mountain lost herself again…

"Sister Zhuo, you're lying to me!"

"Don't speak rashly, Cui'er. How have I lied to you?"

"You said the Young Master just went down the mountain for a stroll, told me not to worry—but it's already been three days and she hasn't returned! The Peak Master even came to ask me yesterday!"

"I didn't lie. The Young Master was indeed feeling restless, so she went down for a stroll—but… this time, she may have wandered farther than usual."

"Even so, she must have had a destination. Sister Zhuo, just tell me—where did the Young Master go?"

Zhuo Wanqiu stood atop the peak, lips pressed tight. She thought: Where else could she go? The Young Master went to visit family.

When she was young, her mother always said women were most outwardly affectionate; once married, they'd forever think of their husband's household.

She had assumed a woman of the Young Master's status would be different—but later realized she was no different at all.

Ever since hitting her cultivation bottleneck, she'd constantly complained that the mountain was stifling.

But in Zhuo Wanqiu's view, it wasn't the mountain that bored her—it was someone in Shengjing she longed to see.

As dusk approached, the last slanting rays of the sun spilled into the government clerks' housing, bathing the quiet courtyard in golden light.

Kuangcheng rolled up his sleeves and returned to the kitchen; the dying embers flared again, while voices drifted from the main house.

"You broke through?"

"Breaking through isn't achieved overnight—it's always a turbulent process. I hit a bottleneck, so I decided to wander aimlessly down the mountain."

"Aimlessly? How did you end up wandering through alleys all the way here?"

"Pure coincidence…"

Ji You wasn't annoyed; he smiled faintly, thinking: Let you say whatever you like.

A girl had traveled a thousand li to Shengjing seeking him, arranged all these theatrics on her own—of course he was pleased; her words meant nothing now.

Even if she claimed she'd come to kill him, Ji You would straighten his back and play along.

Yan Shuyi, annoyed by his constant smiling: "You don't believe me?"

Ji You shook his head: "I don't disbelieve you—I just haven't fully registered it yet. Seeing you sitting here alive, right before me, feels like a dream."

Yan Shuyi paused: "You… often dream of me appearing before you?"

"If it's a dream, it wouldn't just be 'before you.'"

"?"

Wei Rui entered the kitchen carrying washed greens, glanced at Kuangcheng cooking, and said: "The Young Master and his wife are strange indeed."

Kuangcheng glanced at her: "How so?"

"At the door just now, the Young Master's wife forced him to say 'what a coincidence'—if he didn't, she'd get angry, then claimed it was just an accidental meeting. But I saw her pacing outside for nearly half an hour—his footprints were all over the ground."

Wei Rui whispered softly: "Inside, too—her eyes never left the Young Master, glued to him, yet she pretended to be cold and aloof."

Kuangcheng thought a moment: "Perhaps that's the dignity of the rightful wife."

Wei Rui blinked, then adopted a cold expression: "Just cook well, ordinary stranger man…"

"???"

Wei Rui turned and stepped into the courtyard, gazing through the doorframe at the room inside, assuming a poised stance to observe carefully.

Inside, Yan Shuyi wore a blank expression, insisting it was a chance encounter; if Ji You disagreed, her dainty, slippered foot would kick his knee.

Yet her deep, beautiful eyes, as Wei Rui had said, remained fixed on him—feigning indifference, yet never letting go.

As the sun sank, sunlight filtered through the window lattice, gilding the immortal's eyelashes and casting a halo over her delicate, flawless face—truly worthy of the phrase "national beauty."

Ji You gazed at her a long while: "How many days do you plan to stay in Shengjing?"

Yan Shuyi swung her foot idly, answering without thought: "Shengjing is dull—far worse than Lingzhou. Only the snow is worth seeing. I'll return in a few days."

"Back to seclusion?"

"Mm. For Xuanyuan Peak to remain peaceful, even for Lingjian Mountain to remain stable, I must reach a higher realm."

"I sent you a letter recently—why didn't you reply?"

"I, the Young Master, hold a high position. I receive countless letters daily—must I reply to every single one? Would that not exhaust me?"

Yan Shuyi's voice suddenly rose in pitch, trilling for a long while before realizing her tone was wrong; she frowned and fell silent.

She'd caught a cold; her throat hurt.

At that moment, footsteps sounded—Kuang the scholar brought in several small dishes and set them on the table.

The two women who hadn't eaten sat down together; Ji You and Kuangcheng sipped wine with the leftover fried pork cracklings and peanuts, each watching their own girl.

"Brother Ji."

"Hmm?"

Ji You turned to Kuangcheng, startled—this scholar sharing his table looked strangely familiar.

Kuangcheng wasn't surprised by his gaze; he'd experienced this himself—when the mind was occupied, even friends became strangers.

The scholar took a sip: "Brother Ji, seize the opportunity. Your house is large—and empty."

Ji You: "..."

Wei Rui and Yan Shuyi exchanged glances, both bewildered.

Wei Rui had heard this before—but still didn't understand. It felt like some secret code between them, strange and cryptic…

They ate, drank, and the sun slowly descended.

Wei Rui and Yan Shuyi chatted as they ate, asking about hometown, age, family size—though they'd never met before, they felt no stranger.

Yan Shuyi was slightly surprised; for years, she'd never known the warmth of equal sisterhood—yet for this mortal woman, she felt an instinctive closeness.

In this regard, Wei Rui, raised on music, chess, calligraphy, painting, and tales of scholars and beauties, understood far more than the Young Master.

Their natural affinity stemmed from the fact that their beloveds were sworn brothers in life and death.

Such a bond, free of inheritance disputes yet as close as brothers, naturally extended into a sisterly affection between them.

Moreover, Wei Rui harbored a shared goal: someday to marry into Fengzhou alongside this elder sister.

Soon, Wei Rui began calling Yan Shuyi "sister," and Yan Shuyi, charmed by her voice, gifted her a beautiful jade bracelet.

When the meal ended, the sky outside had darkened; dusk was near.

Wei Rui rose, preparing to leave.

She was no cultivator, merely a lady of the capital; staying overnight in a single man's home invited gossip.

"Shall we go back too?"

Ji You set down his chopsticks and looked at Yan Shuyi.

The Young Master of Lingjian Mountain raised her eyes, thinking: Then I'll return to the inn—when her gaze flickered to Kuangcheng, who clenched his fist and raised his arm toward the stranger…

Kuangcheng's residence was near the bustling district; the path back to Nishan passed several inns, one of which was where the Young Master of Lingjian Mountain planned to stay.

Yan Shuyi paused there, glancing at it—time to say goodbye.

But soon she saw Ji You stop ahead, glance at her curiously, then wave her over.

After a moment's thought, the Young Master followed silently, ascending the Nishan Sacred Path, registering the alias "Zhuo Yao" at the Administration Hall, and walking inside.

Yet as they passed the White Jade Ascension Platform, Yan Shuyi walked straight toward Ji You's old outer courtyard—like a cat who knew its home.

"You're going the wrong way."

"?"

"After entering the inner courtyard, I moved houses. I no longer live there. I had you register because inner courtyards aren't freely accessible."

Ji You pointed beyond the ten-thousand-acre forest, then silently thought: This girl planned to come back with me from the start.

The Young Master narrowed her eyes: "Walk ahead."

"You don't even know the way, yet you act like you're returning home…"

Ji You murmured, then saw a pink fist raised—he immediately followed her heart's desire and led her toward the inner courtyard, arriving at the Immortal Residence.

The Young Master stepped inside, glanced around, then entered her chamber alone—and looked up to see her own teacup on the lacquered red cabinet.

She'd bought it on her last visit, told Ji You to keep it safe, and promised to use it again.

When she arrived, she'd assumed he'd moved and the cup might be gone—but it was still there, dust-free.

She hadn't told him she was coming, so he couldn't have cleaned it in advance. The only explanation: he cleaned it regularly, waiting for her return…

Light the stove, ignite the fire, brew tea, roast sweet potatoes.

Yan Shuyi retrieved her stool from the corner—still covered with the cotton pad she'd used last time—and sat before the stove.

She still remembered where to sit.

Ji You lit the stove, placed the teapot atop it, feeling as if he'd stepped back a year.

Yan Shuyi felt the same—as if she'd never left Shengjing after that first visit.

After six months of seclusion, her life held no other vivid memories; the clearest recollection remained those winter nights of conversation with this stranger.

Ji You prodded the fire, watching the flames leap, then sat on the stool behind and to the right of Yan Shuyi.

"When I arrived, I heard they said you broke through?"

"Mm. After returning to the Heavenly Book Academy, I briefly secluded myself. I broke through just a few days ago."

"Are you going to the Dao Assembly?"

"It's not just for the Tian Dao Hui—I just want to become stronger."

"When will the sweet potatoes be ready?"

"Not yet. You're not in a hurry."

"Is Wei Rui Xiang Kuangcheng's lover?"

"You're using 'lover' in a way that sounds improper—'heart's desire' would be more fitting…"

"How is Fengzhou doing?"

"Tax exemptions have been granted; next year, after the land is reclaimed, life should improve."

By the stove, tea fragrance lingered; both sat dazed, chatting intermittently, as if they had endless words to say, yet couldn't find where to begin.

Then, as they murmured small talk, their glances drifted, wandered, and finally met—staring at each other for a long while.

At that moment, Ji You slightly pursed his lips, then reached out to encircle her slender waist.

He had held her many times already on Lingjian Mountain, but it had been so long—he didn't know if this proud immortal maiden would still allow it…

Yan Shuyi watched his hand approach her waist; in silence, she slowly narrowed her eyes, then lifted her arms slightly…

Then she pulled tight—a soft, tender warmth instantly filled his arms.

Their distance was now close; the young mistress's delicate nose nearly brushed Ji You's, her cheeks faintly flushed.

Ji You feigned calmness as he looked at her: "What's wrong?"

Yan Shuyi gazed at him and saw the expression on his face—as if he believed he was entitled to hold her. She couldn't help but press her lips together, then turned slightly to make herself more comfortable in his embrace.

Ever since the stove had been lit, Yan Shuyi had already removed her boots and socks; her two pale, delicate feet rested on a small stool, glowing warmly in the firelight, cute and dainty.

Her feet had always been cold since childhood; she loved drawing near this rising warmth.

Those jade feet, originally relaxed and splayed, their ten translucent toes like white chives, now subtly curled inward.

"Shopkeeper, it's very late. All guests have retired. Shall we board up?"

"Yes, board up."

"But… but one guest hasn't returned. Should we send someone to look for her?"

"You mean the girl in the upper room? Don't worry. When she booked, she said she might not return to sleep."

"There are guests like that…"

"Yes, last year there was one just like her—paid but never stayed. She even looked a bit like this girl."

In the following days, Shengjing stopped snowing, and temperatures rose slightly.

Ji You's sweet potatoes were consumed rapidly; he still looked half-asleep. Every noon, when he came out to cultivate, he yawned constantly.

Yet his aura grew increasingly subdued, profound.

He Lingxiu had seen him many times on the cliff behind the inner courtyard; each time, she recalled the fiery energy of his breakthrough and felt a desire to test his mettle.

"Has Ji's realm stabilized?"

"Yes, stabilized."

Between the sunlit cliffs, Ji You slowly opened his eyes and gave a slight nod.

He Lingxiu spoke softly from behind the cliff: "When you broke through that day, I noticed your aura was exceptionally strong. The others in the courtyard are already debating your current combat power. How about a sword duel with me?"

"No thanks. Men and women must observe propriety."

"?"

Ji You let out a long breath; the golden light in his eyes gradually receded.

He wasn't merely stabilizing his realm—he was also seeking the moment of Dao alignment. The thoughts that surfaced in his contemplation were countless, tangled like a ball of thread, just as human lives and affairs are.

Some of these thoughts were distractions; others were true Dao hearts.

Cultivators at this stage must separate the distractions and listen to the Dao heart deep within—the process is called "unraveling the silk."

Every realm among the Upper Five Realms requires this step, for cultivation itself demands the elimination of distractions.

Brother Ban said the moment of alignment requires timing—you can't rush it; the more you hurry, the further it slips away.

At that moment, a disciple from the Administration Hall climbed the cliff, shouldering a burlap sack and carrying two large black pots: "Ji, your things."

Ji You's eyes lit up: "Didn't expect them here so fast—thank you, brother."

He Lingxiu glanced over: "Why did you buy pots?"

"To cook."

Ji You rose, stowed the sack in his storage gourd, picked up the black pot, and walked toward his courtyard.

He Lingxiu found herself unable to fathom him. After staring for a long while, she turned and went to the Purple Bamboo Meditation Grove, where she found Chai Ze and Shi Junhao in the teahouse, speaking in solemn tones.

She listened for a while and realized they weren't discussing anything major—just the brick wall of their courtyard.

According to them, strange things had happened these past few days: their courtyard wall had inexplicably grown shorter.

Cultivators value inner purity over external matters.

But then again, even non-cultivators rarely care how many bricks their courtyard wall has—unless they built it themselves.

The reason they noticed now, they claimed, was that while standing in their own annex, they'd seen their neighboring junior brother… naked.

Meanwhile, Ji You had entered the courtyard with sack and pot, walked to the newly built stove, placed both pots atop it, fitting them perfectly.

He'd always said he had skill—he'd built this stove without even a blueprint, and it fit just right.

He tossed firewood into the stove, ignited it with spiritual flame, opened the sack, took out a bottle of oil, poured a little into the pot, and began seasoning it.

When the pot was seasoned, he took out the rice sack, poured the rice in, and steamed it. When the grains softened, he sliced the preserved pork and spread it generously over the top.

Soon, smoke curled gently upward, and fragrance began drifting through the courtyard.

Ji You continued chopping vegetables, tossing pork slices and green peppers into the pot, when Yan Shuyi stepped out of the house, wearing a small floral jacket, stretching under the bright sunlight with a soft "Ah."

Seeing this, Ji You straightened up, iron spatula in hand, hands on hips.

For days now, the young mistress of Lingjian Mountain had said nothing about leaving. Every day, she focused on three meals—sometimes quiet, sometimes playful—as if she'd forgotten who she was.

Yesterday, Wei Rui had invited her out; when she returned, she'd bought many things.

Paintings for the walls, gauze covers to shield from dust, a beautiful teapot, and the very floral jacket she now wore—she seemed to have settled in, planning for daily life.

Ji You had confirmed it: Yan Shuyi wanted to hibernate with him.

But if she was hibernating, she couldn't eat roasted sweet potatoes every day. So he'd gathered bricks from others' walls, built a stove, and planned to cook in his own courtyard.

"You're up?"

"Mm, I'm up…"

Yan Shuyi answered, then couldn't help yawning. Every night she sat by the stove with Ji You until late, and now she slept in longer. She turned her head, tilting it to watch him stir-fry, thinking: He actually knows how to cook.

She'd never seen anything like it before.

Cultivators, after all, distance themselves from the mundane, floating above the world—cooking was considered lowly.

Who would imagine a man who had slain a general, reversed a demon commander, and stirred gossip across Shengjing was now wearing a coarse apron, covered in smoke and flame?

Yet she hadn't imagined either that the young mistress of Lingjian Mountain would one day wake up in a bachelor's courtyard, her mouth watering from the smell of his cooking.

Yan Shuyi walked over: "Smells good."

Ji You stirred: "Dinner will be ready soon."

"Who taught you to cook?"

"Where I used to live, the cook's food was terrible. My siblings and I often sneaked into the kitchen, stole ingredients, climbed over the wall to a ruined courtyard next door, and cooked for ourselves. Back then, we thought simply: if you can cook, you're an adult."

Ji You looked at her: "Can you cook?"

Yan Shuyi glanced up at him: "No. You'll cook from now on."

"From now on?"

"I mean… I'll come by occasionally."

Yan Shuyi turned away without expression, walked to the door with her hands behind her back, set up a small square table in the courtyard, placed bowls and chopsticks, and waited for dinner.

Her heart had calmed. Truly calmed.

But it was a calm that made her no longer wish to cultivate.

She realized—if she weren't the young mistress of Lingjian Mountain, if she weren't burdened with preserving the Dao lineage—she'd prefer this life: one house, two people, three meals, four seasons.

Yan Shuyi felt this wasn't inner stillness—it was the fall of an immortal.

(End of Chapter)