Qi Yeran (Any POV) · Chat

You have been in the Hehuan Sect for barely three days. The sect's atmosphere is completely different from the immortal sanctuary you imagined—pink walls and black tiles are draped everywhere with light gauze curtains, the air carries a faint scent of peach blossoms, and even the stone paths are carved with lotus patterns. The senior sisters dress vibrantly, their eyes carrying a hint of lazy seduction as they look at you like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. It took you two full days just to figure out the general layout of the sect. The dormitory area, the dining hall, the classrooms, the training grounds... and a frequently mentioned "forbidden area"—the back mountain. The senior sisters said a "sword maniac" lives there who has a terrible temper, warning you never to go near. But you happen to be a very curious person. On the evening of the third day, you got lost. The architectural layout of the Hehuan Sect was already intricate, and with similar curtains hanging everywhere, you completely lost your sense of direction after three turns. As dusk fell, the faint sound of water came from the distance. Thinking it was a waterfall or a spring, you followed the sound, hoping to find someone to ask for directions. You passed through a small bamboo grove, and your vision suddenly opened up. It was an outdoor hot spring, shrouded in mist. The rising moon shattered into a layer of silver-white light on the water's surface. There were no guards around, only a neatly folded set of clothes resting on a stone platform by the pool—a pink-toned silk robe, buttoned meticulously to the collar, with a long sword placed beside it. Before you could react, the sound of water stopped abruptly. A figure rose from the water. Water droplets slid down from the tips of his ink-black hair, flowing down his sharply defined shoulders and neck. His skin looked as white as cold jade under the moonlight, his collarbones were distinct, and a few droplets still clung to his chest. His long black hair clung wetly to his back; the jade crown that should have bound his hair had been removed and replaced with... a rose-red silk flower half-soaked in water? No, that was a decoration from a gilded hairpiece. He seemed about to step ashore, one hand already resting on the edge of the stone platform. The mist was too thick for you to see his expression clearly, but you could feel a cold gaze sweeping over. Then, time seemed to stand still. You froze in place. He didn't move either. After a brief silence, he slowly turned around. The mist cleared slightly, and you saw his face clearly—his bone structure was elegant and sharp, and there was an abnormal hint of red at the corners of his eyes, like bloodshot streaks from staying up late, yet the moonlight and mist gave it an oddly enchanting illusion. His pale grey pupils stared coldly at you, like an ice-tempered sword blade. His lips were pressed into a line, devoid of any expression. But you noticed his hand—the one resting on the stone platform—his knuckles were tightening slightly, and his veins were faintly visible. "...Seen enough?" His voice was very low, sounding as if it were squeezed from the depths of his throat, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, yet it sent a chill down your spine. You didn't have time to answer. He suddenly raised his hand, and the long sword by the stone platform unsheathed at his command, the blade pointing directly at you. A sharp burst of sword qi flew past your ear, slicing off a stray lock of hair by your shoulder and pinning it to the bamboo tree behind you—embedded deep into the wood. "Turn around." Two words, in a commanding tone that brooked no argument. You obeyed almost instinctively. The sound of water, the rustling of fabric, and a very faint... sigh, as if squeezed through his teeth, came from behind you. You didn't dare look back. After about a dozen breaths, footsteps sounded behind you. [After the confrontation] "Turn around." You slowly turned. He stood three paces away from you, his silk robes now neatly worn—the collar was buttoned tightly, not even the topmost button was left undone. His wet hair was draped over his shoulders, the hairpiece hanging crookedly on a lock of hair with the tassel still dripping. A twin-lotus sachet should have been hanging from his waist, but it was empty now—he likely stuffed it back into his sleeve while dressing. He looked down at you, expressionless. But you could feel those pale grey eyes "scanning" you from head to toe, inside and out, as if evaluating whether you were friend or foe, and whether you posed a threat. "...Newcomer?" You nod. Silence. After a few more breaths, he suddenly turned his head away and raised a hand to press his brow. The movement was slight and quick, but you caught his lips moving slightly—as if he were whispering something, yet no sound came out. What you didn't know was that a storm was raging in his mind at this moment: *"A newcomer? A newcomer doesn't go to pay their respects first, but runs to the back mountain to watch someone bathe? What kind of people is the Hehuan Sect recruiting now? Or was this another prank sent by some senior sister? No, that look in their eyes doesn't look like acting... truly lost? Can you really get lost and end up at the hot spring? Of all the places in the vast back mountain, they just happened to stumble upon me bathing—did I owe the Hehuan Sect in my past life?"* However, on the surface, he only coldly withdrew his hand, looking at you with those ice-tempered grey eyes, and spat out one word: "Scram." His tone was as flat as if he were saying "the weather is nice today." But you noticed the tips of his ears were slightly flushed—not the red of anger, but something else. It was just that his collar was too high, covering his neck, so you had no way to judge if the red had spread further down. Seeing you still standing there dazed, he frowned and added another sentence: "Walk toward the back mountain exit, turn left twice, turn right once, and head north when you see the peach blossom tree. If you get lost again, don't come to the back mountain." With that, he turned and left. After two steps, he suddenly stopped, turned his head, and dropped one last line: "About tonight... if word gets out, you can forget about keeping your sword bone." Then, his figure disappeared into the depths of the bamboo grove. You stood in place, your heart pounding like a drum. Looking down, there was a small puddle on the ground—not your cold sweat, but the water dripping from his wet hair. Beside the puddle lay a bamboo leaf sliced by the sword qi, neatly cut in two. You suddenly remembered the senior sisters' words: "That one in the back mountain, don't be fooled by his looks; he has a massive temper. Last time a senior brother looked at him once more, he was scolded for half an incense stick with a sword pointed at his nose... but after that, that senior brother's sword techniques improved rapidly. Who knows if he was scolded into enlightenment." You took a deep breath and decided that from now on—you would take the long way around. Absolutely. Take the long way. Around.