Lady Xiang

Facing the intense gazes, Sheng Ningyu calmly concluded, “...That is all.”

“Ah, I never expected Daoist Ning’s background to be so tumultuous.”

“So Daoist Ning herself doesn’t know her origins?”

“Her former sect was truly cruel! Just because of a grudge against the Sword Venerable, they went so far as to harm someone who merely resembled him!”

“Well... we apologize for our earlier offense.”

Though it was clearly a painful subject she wished to avoid mentioning, and despite her covering her face these past days, they inadvertently uncovered the truth.

The disciples of Yunwang Palace suddenly felt embarrassed, scratching their heads and leaving behind many nourishing spiritual medicines for Sheng Ningyu. Those with spiritual roots felt especially guilty, almost emptying their storage rings of all novel items as gifts before departing.

“Oh, such good children—how could I possibly accept this?”

Sheng Ningyu sighed inwardly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she packed away all the offerings.

Her storage ring, given by Ji Qingwu, contained the eye-covering pearls from Shiyuanshu and gifts she had received over these days, including the assorted pills from Yaoyouling. With these new additions, Sheng Ningyu felt she was well-provisioned once again.

Ji Qingwu had sent everyone away and cautiously peeked into Sheng Ningyu’s room, observing her bent over the desk, one hand moving deftly as faint traces of spiritual power flickered intermittently.

“Sister Ning, are you... drawing talismans?” Ji Qingwu asked hesitantly, afraid of touching on any sensitive memories.

Sheng Ningyu couldn’t help but ruffle her hair and openly showed her the work. “Yes, this was my specialty before. Look, how do you think I’m doing?”

On the yellow paper, vermilion flowed like moonlight, the brush strokes dancing like dragons with snowflakes falling—clearly no ordinary creation.

Ji Qingwu’s eyes sparkled with admiration before widening in surprise. “Is this the Soul Dissolution Talisman?!”

Sheng Ningyu laughed at her panicked expression, standing behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Not at all ‘Soul Dissolution!’ I don’t have the skill of the Sword Venerable to create thousand-year talismans in one stroke. Qingwu, look again.”

Ji Qingwu blushed again and, focusing carefully, finally discerned the difference in the strong iron-like strokes.

“This is... the Flying Snow Dissolution Talisman used by the previous head of the Chu family?”

Sheng Ningyu nodded. “Yes.”

Though she didn’t understand why Chu Chang’an, that spendthrift, always carried a firework monkey around, it didn’t stop her from seizing the opportunity—to attract the attention of Yuan Daojun.

“I saw that you all liked it very much before, and that Yaoyouling even went out to gather many more. Instead of letting you waste money outside, I thought I’d draw some for you. That way, it completes our fate, and I can live here with peace of mind.”

This Flying Snow Dissolution Talisman was clearly superior to those sold outside!

Ji Qingwu’s eyes shone like a rabbit’s, but she was shy and flustered as she fumbled through her storage pouch. “I can’t accept this—I, I have spirit stones—”

“What spirit stones? By all rights, I should be the one giving them to you!”

Sheng Ningyu stuffed the talismans into Ji Qingwu’s arms, smiling boldly. “These don’t consume much spiritual power. I’ve loved making them since I was little. Back in my sect—” She paused, her smile fading as a hint of sorrow crossed her eyes. “Now that I’m injured and can’t do much for you, drawing these simple talismans is one of the few things I can still offer.”

Ji Qingwu, still young and inexperienced, was utterly charmed by Sheng Ningyu’s coaxing. After accepting the talismans, she shared much information.

“Madam Xiang? Her name is Xiang Bieyun. She’s a disciple of Banbi Sect and was deeply devoted to our former palace master. They were inseparable, a loving couple envied by all.”

“Banbi Sect? Mmm, Banbi Sect rose to prominence decades ago. The sect leader, Shenlong, has never been seen. Currently, all affairs are handled by the acting sect leader Yan Wurong. I like Banbi Sect very much! They take in many women who are homeless or abused by their families. Those with spiritual roots are taught magic, and those without are taught survival skills. We women usually repay kindness, so when we succeed, we give back to Banbi Sect. That’s why it has flourished these years. I heard they will send people when Qingyi Academy reopens!”

“Ah, back to Madam Xiang...”

“She is kind and gentle, without airs. Unfortunately, her health is poor, so she stays secluded and rarely appears in public. Thus, the former palace master often went out seeking medicine for her.”

After seeing Ji Qingwu off, Sheng Ningyu sorted her thoughts.

First, she needed to draw more monkey talismans. Once Yunwang Palace’s medicinal fields were destroyed, Yuan Buxu might hesitate to speak out since she was a guest, but Yuan Daojun surely wouldn’t let it go.

Second, once her body recovered somewhat, she must visit the Ghost Cang Tower to retrieve her half of the spiritual bone—wondering if the sign at the entrance still stood. It was truly nostalgic.

Lastly...

Sheng Ningyu swore she didn’t know Madam Xiang.

Perhaps it was a misunderstanding or some coincidence that caused the confusion.

Not wanting unnecessary complications, she stayed indoors these days, quietly drawing talismans in the courtyard and giving Yaoyouling and Ji Qingwu the Flying Snow Dissolution talismans.

Both young, they couldn’t resist playing with their new toys and often tried to drag Sheng Ningyu out for a stroll.

Though Yunwang Palace was somewhat remote compared to other sects, the scent of herbs filled the air everywhere. The spiritual energy seeping from the medicinal plants was faint but refreshing, making one feel truly at ease in body and mind.

“Sister Ning, look, this is the spiritual herb field we use to make the Root-Strengthening Continual Spouse Pill. Mainly, me and a few junior disciples take care of it,” Yaoyouling said excitedly, turning to Sheng Ningyu. “When you saw it before, the Continual Spouse Grass wasn’t—”

“—Damn it! Who moved my Continual Spouse Grass!!!”

Yaoyouling’s wail echoed through the herb field. Ji Qingwu looked helpless, and the other disciples gasped.

The once lush herb field was now marred by patches of black, with the remaining soil mottled yellow and green. The previously thriving herbs drooped and swayed, a complete disaster.

One disciple said bitterly, “Whose Flying Snow Dissolution Talisman ended up in our fields by mistake?”

“‘Mistake’?” This was clearly deliberate.

Sheng Ningyu raised an eyebrow, about to speak when a voice interrupted.

“It was me. So what?”

Sheng Ningyu turned to see a handsome youth in golden robe and red sleeves standing not far off, looking at Yaoyouling provocatively. “What? You get to blow up my herb field, but I can’t touch yours?”

“Jin Xianyao! Can you be reasonable? We said it was a mistake! Besides, we only accidentally destroyed one herb and already paid you triple its value. You agreed then, why the change of heart?”

Jin Xianyao snorted and rolled his eyes. “What? You think your spirit stones can settle this? After thinking it over, I’m not satisfied. What are you going to do about it?”

“If it weren’t for someone pulling me back, I’d have rushed over to confront him.”

“Brother Yaoyao, let it go.”

“Yeah, it’s our fault. We’re all from the same sect. It’s just a few herbs. No need to make a fuss. We’ll just replant them later.”

Jin Xianyao ignored the protests and strode directly to Sheng Ningyu.

The young boy narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin. “Are you the one they say looks exactly like the portrait?”

So he had come for her.

Sheng Ningyu pondered for a moment, then sincerely said, “Appearance is a gift from Heaven.”

Jin Xianyao was momentarily taken aback. “Why say that?”

Sheng Ningyu sighed, looking at him earnestly. “If you think you’re less attractive than me, there’s no need to feel inferior or jealous. With effort and inner cultivation, you can make up for it.”

Jin Xianyao was stunned. It wasn’t until Yaoyouling laughed that he suddenly realized and shouted, “Who’s jealous and inferior?! Ridiculous—”

“Xianyao.”

From afar came a gentle, watery female voice tinged with a sigh.

The laughing disciples abruptly stopped, then happily turned toward the voice, bowing in unison. “Madam Xiang!”

Jin Xianyao instantly hushed his arrogance, nervously stammering, “Sis, sister.”

A huge ink-black plum blossom appeared in midair, atop which stood seven or eight people. As it descended, the blossom shrank, finally transforming into a faint fragrance that settled between the brows of its bearer.

Clad in azure robes, Xiang Xiangfumàn—her name whispered in reverence—was said to be a master of fragrance blending.

Her three thousand strands of jet-black hair flowed behind her, bound only by an old silk ribbon near the tips. Delicate features, arched brows, eyes like polished lacquer—she looked like a portrait of a noble lady.

Sheng Ningyu lowered her head, thinking firmly that she had never seen this woman before.

Xiang Bieyun led the group forward, knitting her brows as she glanced at the damaged herb field, then at Jin Xianyao, speaking softly, “Just a few days, and you already miss the confinement room?”

Jin Xianyao clenched his fists and grudgingly approached Yaoyouling. “Sorry, I acted impulsively this time. I’ll pay you triple for your herb field.”

Yaoyouling scratched his head. “That’s fine…”

Madam Xiang gently said, “Three days.”

Jin Xianyao’s voice suddenly rushed, “—and I’ll clean up this mess for you!”

Madam Xiang remained gentle. “Seven days.”

Jin Xianyao hurried on, “And I’ll replant new herbs for you! I’ll pay for the seeds! We’ll plant them immediately!”

This quelled not only Yaoyouling but the other angry disciples, who even felt a bit sheepish at having taken advantage. Ji Qingwu stepped forward, tugging Jin Xianyao’s sleeve and whispering, “Then, can we plant them with you, Brother Jin?”

Jin Xianyao looked at the little junior sister and blushed. “Okay, okay.”

“They’re all good kids,” said an older female steward behind Xiang Bieyun with a smile. “There’s no real grudge; just childish tempers flaring for a moment.”

Xiang Bieyun smiled gently, her movements graceful and tender like a newly blossomed ink plum.

Another female disciple asked, “What about the young master’s confinement...?”

“As usual,” Xiang Bieyun replied. “Add a five-thousand-character warning so he learns his lesson well. We wouldn’t want him causing trouble when Qingyi Academy reopens later this month—”

As she spoke and turned to leave, her words caught in her throat at a glance.

She stared blankly at a figure not far away, her fingers trembling lightly, yet she dared not speak loudly, fearing even the slightest noise might shatter the illusion.

The steward and disciples behind her, surprised by her sudden silence, exchanged curious looks. One bluntly said, “Madam, are you feeling unwell again—”

She couldn’t finish; they all saw her face then.

Those eyes, clear as a pool of water, were filled with moisture. The usually gentle and composed face was streaked with tears, her lips trembling but silent.

This was the expression of profound sorrow.

Madam Xiang was silently weeping.

The steward and disciples were stunned.

Despite many troubles over the years, everyone knew their madam was strong yet tender, managing Yunwang Palace and the Yuan family flawlessly. She was respected within and without Linghuawu.

What could have happened?

They exchanged glances and approached her. “Madam, are you feeling unwell?”

This time, she not only didn’t answer but shook off everyone and stumbled forward, her spiritual power becoming faint and elusive, as if transforming into something strange.

“Madam! Please slow down!”

Those behind were caught off guard and hurried after her, but one person was faster.

She seemed to sigh, steadying the madam’s delicate arm and guiding her upward.

“Madam, are you looking for me?”

[—Are you looking for me?]

Xiang Bieyun looked up, staring blankly at the face before her.

With a carefree pose, eyes half-lidded, a wild, uninhibited aura, yet her movements were so gentle—no one could imitate even a fraction of her grace.

She was the noble, radiant moon in the sky, the moonlight all pursued and admired.

She was also her moon.

Eternal and timeless, the one and only bright moon.

Xiang Bieyun tightly grasped Sheng Ningyu’s arm, took a deep breath, and with a voice trembling with tears said, “You—this young lady, please accompany me for a walk, will you?”

...

In the herb field, Jin Xianyao fiercely snapped the spiritual hoe in his hands.

Everyone nearby gasped. Yaoyouling warned cautiously, “What are you trying to do?! No more changing your mind, or I’ll tell Madam Xiang and Senior Yuan!”

“What else can I do!”

Jin Xianyao threw down the broken hoe, sitting sullenly on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees. “I want to ask what your friend is trying to do!”

Yaoyouling blinked.

“Why are you talking nonsense? What does this have to do with Daoist Ning?”

“Does it not? From the portrait to the first meeting, can’t you see?”

Jin Xianyao raised his head, eyes red with frustration. “She’s clearly seducing my sister!”