Back then

Lingyu carefully examined the room. It was small, furnished with only a bed, a table, a cabinet, and a few chairs. The walls, made of bluish-grey stone, bore no unnecessary decorations, giving the space a clean and tidy appearance. On the table stood a lamp, fitted with a luminous moonstone; beside it was a small stove, which required no charcoal—simply placing a spirit bead within the stove’s wall would cause warmth to radiate forth.

What astonished her most was the presence of an invisible barrier in the room, protecting the entire space and preventing others from entering.

After surveying her surroundings, she nodded. As expected of the Upper Realm—how marvelous.

A gentle knocking sounded at the door.

Lingyu called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and standing at the threshold was Fan Xianshu. His expression was calm as he asked, “Senior Sister Cheng, am I disturbing you?”

“Not at all,” Lingyu replied, watching as Fan Xianshu entered and closed the door behind him. Suddenly, she smiled. “Senior Sister—how rare! I’ve heard you call me that for so long now.”

Her tone was familiar, with a hint of playful teasing.

But Fan Xianshu did not smile. Hearing her words, he suddenly looked up at her, his gaze deep and inscrutable.

Lingyu sat down and poured two cups of tea, leisurely at ease. “So, are you still going to keep up the act?”

After a moment’s silence, Fan Xianshu finally smiled, sitting opposite her and picking up the other cup of tea. His tone was casual. “When did you notice? I thought I played my role quite well.”

“You did. At first, I just felt you looked familiar. If it hadn’t been for the incident at the volcano, where your scar nearly melted from the heat, I wouldn’t have realized.” Lingyu admired the scar on his face for a moment, then reached out to poke it. “What is this thing?”

Fan Xianshu dodged quickly. “Don’t touch! This thing is expensive!”

“Expensive? Are you planning to wear it your whole life? No one knows you here—it’s just unnecessary!” She tried to grab it again.

Fan Xianshu considered this and surrendered, raising his hands. “Fine, fine, just a moment.” With that, he took a porcelain bottle from his mystical pouch, pulled out the stopper, and poured some milky liquid onto his face. After a while, he gently pulled at the edge of his face, and astonishingly peeled off an entire mask of skin.

With the mask removed, he revealed a gentle, handsome face, with slightly arched thick brows. His mouth bore a faint smile, carrying a touch of roguish charm.

Lingyu stared, dumbfounded. She blurted out, “Xianshi, how did you end up looking like this?”

Yes, Xianshi! There was no Fan Xianshu; he was in truth Fan Xianshi. Her first intuition had been correct.

Fan Xianshu—Fan Xianshi—arched his brows. “Well?”

“Not like you at all!” Lingyu jumped up, slapping the table. “How could Xianshi possibly look like this? He was always so honest…” Suddenly, she stopped, grabbed Fan Xianshu’s collar, and demanded fiercely, “Tell me, are you some spirit creature that took over Xianshi’s body?”

Fan Xianshu was both amused and exasperated. “What goes on in your head? What kind of spirit could possibly be so powerful as to seize a body?” Such possession existed only in ancient tomes. Lingyu knew she was being absurd, but Xianshi’s new appearance had shaken her.

The Xianshi she knew had been an honest child, with the rustic innocence of a village boy, enduring beatings, scoldings, and bullying without complaint… How, after five years apart, had he become a charming and dashing young man? If not for traces of his old self in the corners of his brows and eyes, she would have thought she had mistaken him entirely.

“In any case, the Xianshi I knew didn’t look like this. Give me back my Xianshi!”

Fan Xianshu only smiled as he looked at her, just as Xianshi used to—always rendered foolish by her whims, yet always tolerating her in silence. After a long while, he said suddenly, “Lingyu, it’s so good to see you like this.”

His expression was tranquil, his face perpetually smiling; yet his gaze seemed to pierce through five years of time, seeing the Lingyu who used to recite scriptures beside him, the Lingyu who played with him, the Lingyu who made mischief and let him take the blame.

Five years is short—just a thousand or so days and nights; yet five years is also long, enough for two young acolytes to grow up and become true cultivators.

Lingyu paused, quietly releasing him and taking her seat.

“All these years, have you been well? I searched for you for so long but couldn’t find a trace, not even Gongsun Yan. Where did you go?”

Fan Xianshu’s expression grew distant, as though lost in recollection. After a long while, he sighed deeply and began to recount the past.

“Five years ago, that night when you said you were going out, I stayed behind to recite scriptures. As I was studying, a black-robed elder suddenly appeared in the room…”

That black-robed elder was Gongsun Yan. Back then, he and Feiyun had split up—Feiyun to capture Lingyu, Gongsun Yan to seize Xianshi. Unlike Feiyun’s methods, Gongsun Yan acted with thunderous force, using the Dream-guiding Technique on Xianshi, asking crucial questions, then knocking him out with magic.

The rest, Lingyu knew well; Xianshi had been unconscious throughout. Later, as Gongsun Yan and Feiyun fled, Xianshi finally awoke on the road.

“When I woke, I couldn’t find you or Master. Alone and facing Gongsun Yan, I was terrified. But there was nothing I could do; to survive, I had to obey him. He took me to a remote place to hide and recover from his wounds. Gongsun Yan was eccentric and volatile. Living under his roof, I suffered greatly—any slight displeasure brought beatings and scoldings. Over time, I managed to coax the truth out of him and learned that he kept me alive only because he needed me to unseal the treasure.”

Fan Xianshu spoke calmly, his gaze unruffled. “At that point, I realized I was nothing but a key to him. One day, once his wounds healed and he found you—or another Cheng family cultivator—to open the treasure, my life would be forfeit. But I didn’t want to die; I wanted to live. So I feigned stupidity to gain his trust. He dared not return to his clan and had no one to do his bidding but me. In his eyes, I was foolish enough that, over time, he let down his guard and finally taught me his cultivation techniques.”

He made it sound easy, but Lingyu knew the process had been anything but. Compared to her five years of diligent training, Xianshi’s five years must have been grueling—enduring abuse, outwitting Gongsun Yan, snatching time to cultivate, all while living under the constant threat of death.

“What happened then?” she asked softly.

Fan Xianshu was silent for a long time, then said, “In the end, I killed Gongsun Yan.”

Lingyu was stunned. She didn’t know Gongsun Yan’s exact cultivation level, but he’d once fought Xuanchenzi, so he must have been above the fifth level of Qi Refinement. For Xianshi to kill him was extraordinary, especially as he’d been cultivating right under Gongsun Yan’s nose.

Fan Xianshu summarized simply, “I never let him see my true strength. After three years, I set a trap, using the resources I quietly accumulated to buy a simple talisman array. I lured him into it and killed him in one stroke.” He smiled with a hint of pride. “Gongsun Yan’s injuries never fully healed, so his power was diminished. A single array was enough to destroy him.”

Even so, Lingyu could imagine how much effort he’d expended. Gongsun Yan was shrewd and experienced; to lure him into a trap must have been no easy feat. The honest, rustic Xianshi, the one she used to bully, had been transformed by such ordeals—his growth mirrored the hardships he’d endured.

“And what about Feiyun? Uncle Han told me he found evidence that Gongsun Yan was dead, Feiyun was missing, and you…”

“I killed her as well,” Fan Xianshu said calmly. “From Gongsun Yan, I learned she was involved, so after killing him, I went after her. They were partners—having killed one, there was no reason to spare the other.”

Lingyu fell silent for a long time. The things she’d always wanted to do, Xianshi had accomplished. She’d trained safely at Xuanyuan Temple, but failed to avenge her master; he’d endured hardship, yet resolved everything.

“What happened after? How did you come to join Han Funing?”

Fan Xianshu said, “After killing them both, I returned to Baishui Temple, but couldn’t find any trace of you. Later, I decided to visit my parents, and happened to encounter Uncle Han searching for descendants of the Fan clan. I donned this human-skin mask and pretended to be a wandering Fan family cultivator…”

He chuckled. “I never expected you’d be at Xuanyuan Temple. That day, Uncle Han told me someone would be traveling with me, then mentioned your name—I was completely shocked. Truly, searching high and low, only to find you with no effort at all.”

“Then why didn’t you acknowledge me?”

“I’d found you already—what was the rush?” Fan Xianshu’s smile was gentle. “Knowing you were alive, and thriving, was enough for me. Whether I acknowledged you or not hardly mattered.”

The two fell silent. Lingyu looked at Fan Xianshu, so different from the Xianshi in her memories. Xianshi had been honest and trusting… Suddenly, her heart ached. She could only imagine what kind of life he’d led these past years, to turn the simple, honest Xianshi into the man before her.

“These years, you’ve suffered.”

Fan Xianshu suddenly smiled, reaching out to pat her arm. “Don’t be silly—it’s not your fault. After all these years, the fact that you still remember me means a lot.”

Lingyu could not respond. He spoke lightly, but she could imagine how hard his life had been.

“By the way, what really happened back then? How did Master die?” Fan Xianshu asked. He’d pieced together the story from others, but after Gongsun Yan left, he didn’t know what transpired. Once he joined Han Funing, he only learned that Xuanchenzi was dead, and Lingyu had gone to Xuanyuan Temple.

Lingyu sighed and told him how it ended. “That’s how it was. Master perished alongside them—otherwise, I wouldn’t have had any peace.”

Fan Xianshu was silent for a long time.

“After Master died, I took his certificate and went to Xuanyuan Temple.” Lingyu was about to continue when suddenly they heard Luoyun’s voice outside the door.

“Junior Sister Cheng, is Junior Brother Fan here with you?” As soon as the words were spoken, Luoyun pushed the door open. Seeing Fan Xianshu, he froze. “You—who are you?”