Chapter 379: Let Yuan Caimei Also Suffer Ha Pa Ha Pa

The stars and moon turned, and dawn broke.

With the call of the cuckoo, a faint dawn began to spill over Shengjing.

The early spring morning still carried a chill; in the backyard of Wuwu Trading House, a pair of snow-white feet curled slightly outside the quilt, shrinking back in the cool breeze and pressing against the man’s warm calf.

Sensing the movement, Ji You slowly opened his eyes, feeling the warmth in his arms.

The snow-white Little Master of the Spirit Mirror lay against him, back to his chest, breathing evenly, her sleeping face serene and elegant—like a frost-haired beauty resting, though viewed from above, her arms revealed a round, flat shape.

The discussion about the Spirit Mirror, the Heavenly Book, and Master Chen had unconsciously lasted until nightfall.

Perhaps because Ji You was about to depart for Yu Danzong, Yan Shuyi felt reluctant, so she deliberately dragged out dinner until late, then pretended calmness by staying behind.

Ji You still remembered that expression—terribly acted.

He exhaled slowly, quietly sat up, and drew his waist back.

But before he could fully rise, the Little Master seemed to sense a void, and her little buttocks instinctively pressed backward.

The hooligan fixed by mortise and tenon instantly stiffened, feeling a surge of heat.

A morning-risen young man is the most vigorous, invincible force in the world—unbearable to touch even slightly.

“When false thoughts arise, they startle the spirit. When the spirit is startled, it clings to all things.”

“When it clings to all things, desire arises. When desire arises, it becomes affliction.”

“Affliction and false thoughts grieve body and mind… The true, eternal Dao is attained by those who awaken; those who awaken to the Dao remain forever still and pure.”

As he stiffened, Ji You silently recited inwardly.

This was the widely circulated “Supreme Pure Stillness Mantra,” used in Daoist cultivation, said to clarify the mind and calm the spirit.

After reciting for a long while, Ji You fell silent, then slowly lay back down.

Creak—creak—

The bed, made of yellow rosewood, began to sway gently; in her sleep, Yan Shuyi emitted intermittent, soft whimpering sounds.

After many soft moans, Yan Shuyi suddenly opened her still-drowsy, glistening eyes, looking foolish, and as her spiritual sense sharpened, she froze, her face tightening in alarm.

In an instant, the whimpering ceased.

Ji You sensed something, leaned closer—but found Yan Shuyi still with closed eyes, in the same sleeping posture, yet her body visibly tensed, her expression as if gritting her teeth, her jade hand clenched tightly around the bedsheet.

Heh, if you’re pretending to sleep, don’t blame me.

“Ah!” A soft, sweet cry suddenly rang out in the silent room—pure and delicate.

Yan Shuyi instantly buried herself under the covers, whimpering “wu wu wu” while silently cursing the scoundrel over and over in her mind.

The spring morning quilt was still very comfortable, especially with something to do.

But the Little Master had poor endurance; soon she arched her head silently, her jade feet taut, all her pride gone.

Long after, the exhausted Little Master suddenly felt the unfamiliar man press against her back, kiss her cheek with tenderness and affection—yet he did not expose her pretense, instead slipping quietly off the bed.

Creak—the door opened and closed.

Yan Shuyi couldn’t help squinting, then clenched her fist and swung it toward his retreating figure like a fierce little tiger.

At that moment, Ji You, who had just stepped out, suddenly halted—she instantly shrank back, a flicker of “ha pa” flashing in her eyes.

But Ji You turned only to take a bamboo basket from the room, and did not tease her further.

It’s fine—soon it’ll be Yuan Caimei’s turn…

Yan Shuyi glared fiercely, when suddenly footsteps sounded in the courtyard.

“Young Master.”

“Good morning.”

“Um… where’s my Little Master?”

“She ate too late last night and slept here. She hasn’t woken yet—go sit and drink tea.”

Hearing this, Yan Shuyi quietly slid further in, avoiding the “for some reason” dripping wetness, closed her eyes, and prepared to linger in bed a little longer.

She could never do this at Lingjian Mountain, for every time she awoke in Yun Ding Palace, she felt countless decisions awaited her—never a chance to linger in bed.

Here, it was different. She knew there was a scoundrel outside, so even a storm could not breach the room.

But the cooldown was too short—the sensation inside was too clear—so her attempt to linger failed, and she had to rise and dress.

Opening the door, crisp air met her face; dressed neatly, Yan Shuyi wore an arrogant expression and turned to look at Ji You, busy at the stove.

“Morning.”

Yan Shuyi glanced at Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu, then said coolly to Ji You—as if they hadn’t slept together last night and were meeting for the first time that morning.

Terrible acting—look closely and the flaws are everywhere.

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu exchanged knowing glances but dared not voice their thoughts.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Fine.”

The Little Master nodded slightly, then her cheeks flushed inexplicably, her eyes brimming with sword qi.

But soon she saw Ji You offering her a peeled peanut, so she obediently opened her mouth and ate it.

Smoke curled upward, drifting slowly into the sky.

Soon after, the front gate opened, and a flurry of footsteps entered.

The four in the courtyard turned together to see Cao Jingsong, Wen Zhengxin, Ban Yangshu, and the Lu sisters arriving together.

“Didn’t you say lunch would be served? Why so early?”

“We’re prepping the ingredients ahead.”

Ji You, holding the cleaver, spoke softly.

He had estimated yesterday at noon that Zuqiu Yang’s progress was nearly complete, so he arranged to have them all eat together.

Since the start of the New Yuan, they had never properly gathered; this journey to Yu Danzong might not go smoothly—if it drags on, days could be lost. They ought to sit down and share a meal.

“Greetings, Little Master.”

Cao Jingsong now turned his gaze from the cutting board to Yan Shuyi, bowed with clasped fists in a slight salute.

Wen Zhengxin, Ban Yangshu, and the others did the same.

Lu Qingqiu and Lu Hanyan followed suit, but this was their first time seeing the Lingjian Mountain Little Master so closely; they couldn’t help glancing up, seeing a face of icy beauty—and their hearts trembled with unease.

The sisters had once thought Yuan Caimei was the First Lady and dared invite her to banquets to build ties; now they dared not act presumptuously.

The Little Master was not easy to get along with; they had secretly observed her these days, even visited teahouses and taverns, watching her cold indifference even toward her husband.

“Greetings, Teacher Cao. All of you, well.”

Yan Shuyi gave a slight bow and spoke coolly, then turned to the Lu sisters, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The Little Master naturally knew them both—she had even heard the tale of the White-Clothed Swordsmaster and the Two Sisters.

Though she knew it was fiction, her jealousy was still strong.

But not long after they arrived, Wei Rui came too.

This girl was lively around familiar faces and deeply affectionate toward Yan Shuyi, instantly lightening the tense atmosphere.

Yet the Lu sisters still remained uneasy, especially Lu Hanyan.

She had been watched by Yan Shuyi many times before; she knew she had been marked.

“I heard the Little Master is cold and heartless, black-and-white in judgment. Some say she once caught her personal maid stealing her jewelry and broke her leg.”

“Huh?”

Lu Hanyan’s eyes flickered with panic as she listened to Lu Qingqiu.

Ji You, chopping ingredients nearby, overheard their conversation and twitched his lips—this rumor was absurd.

The proud, moody ghost was indeed cold on the surface, but inwardly soft and kind.

Her coldness came only from the weight on her shoulders.

Meanwhile, Ding Yao, seated at the tea table, suddenly felt a chill on her legs and reached down to pat them twice.

The morning hours slipped quietly away as Ji You began frying the ingredients and simmering the long-cooking soup.