Haven't Been a Senior Sister for Many Years - Chapter 33
Chapter 33: The Third Drop of Memory
Chu Zhiqin sat in the room, studying a book on barrier formations.
The book was something she’d picked up during her century-long training outside. It contained various methods and precautions for using enchantments and barriers.
She patiently flipped through it and cautiously experimented.
Chu Zhiqin had no natural talent for spellcasting. All she could do was chew through ancient manuals and slowly comprehend their meanings. Unfortunately, what she lacked most now was time.
Once Leng Junzhu consumed the third spirit herb, she would inevitably break through the seal Chu Zhiqin had placed beneath her. The surging demonic energy would draw the attention of all the surrounding powers. By then, their location would be exposed, jeopardizing Chu Zhiqin’s plans.
To prevent this, she had to quickly set up a barrier around the courtyard to conceal the demonic energy.
During her studies, Grandma Lin had visited a few times.
The kind old woman, worried that Chu Zhiqin and Leng Junzhu, posing as sisters, would be bullied outside, often brought gifts when she came to town to sell vegetables.
Later, when she saw they were adapting well and heard they had “found their uncle,” Grandma Lin relaxed and gradually visited less.
As for Lady Li, after their falling out, she never showed up again.
Occasionally, when Chu Zhiqin grew tired of reading, she would take the bored Leng Junzhu out for a stroll.
Hand in hand like ordinary sisters, they’d wander from one end of the street to the other, returning home at sunset.
These peaceful scenes felt surreal to Chu Zhiqin, like a fleeting dream that she never wanted to wake up from—yet knew she must.
Still, there were moments when she wondered: if this was a dream, couldn’t she just keep dreaming, consciously lost in it?
After all, even if her senior sister hadn’t fully recovered her memory, Chu Zhiqin could occasionally catch glimpses of the old her in Leng Junzhu’s mannerisms. It felt like her senior sister was still there.
She even thought—if her senior sister never remembered again, she wouldn’t force it. She’d be content to guard this little world with her, living simply with the rising and setting sun.
But… was she truly content?
Could she really bear to see the one who had once risked everything to pull her from the flames, who had rebuilt her cultivation path at all costs, vanish quietly from the world and walk away from her?
Or worse—watch a once-proud genius of the Nine Provinces Sword Sect, a dazzling talent among thousands, have her wings clipped and remain confined in this shadowy little town… just to satisfy her own selfish desires?
Chu Zhiqin couldn’t accept that.
She had gone through so much, always running, hiding, and never once striking lethally against those who pursued her.
Why?
Because she wanted her senior sister to one day return to the Sword Sect with a clear conscience. She didn’t want her to lose her way due to forgotten memories or be hurt by her demonic identity and past.
Leng Junzhu was born to be admired by all. She was brighter than the stars—an untouchable moon.
Chu Zhiqin would rather be scorned by the world than let Leng Junzhu suffer even a little.
She wanted to be the wind that lifted Leng Junzhu to the heavens.
“Take the last spirit herb tomorrow night,” Chu Zhiqin said while Leng Junzhu was teasing a puppy with a leftover chicken leg from dinner.
The little puppy, taught well by its mother, knew better than to snatch food from the hands of humans. It lay on the ground, drooling but not daring to grab the fragrant chicken leg.
Compared to Chu Zhiqin’s busyness, Leng Junzhu was idle during the day—she either sat on the swing Chu Zhiqin built for her or played with the puppy.
After a few days, the puppy began running to Chu Zhiqin for safety whenever it saw Leng Junzhu, scared of being tormented by the little troublemaker.
If Leng Junzhu was in a good mood, she’d let it go. If not, she’d grab it and play rough, making it yelp pitifully.
Chu Zhiqin wanted to help the puppy, but since Leng Junzhu didn’t truly hurt it or withhold its food, she usually turned a blind eye—only stepping in when things got out of hand.
At night, however, Chu Zhiqin became the one tormented.
The Sword Immortal of the Nine Provinces, teary-eyed, would cling to her with a soft grip on her shoulder, begging her to slow down.
Leng Junzhu, of course, never did. She’d only become more intense—adding a cold tail or another finger, delighting in watching Chu Zhiqin cry even more pitifully.
In the hazy moonlight, she would gently kiss away her tears before pulling Chu Zhiqin into another round of indulgent pleasure.
Still playing with the puppy, Leng Junzhu replied, “Alright. I’m bored of playing anyway.”
After days of being cooped up, with nothing but teasing the dog and reading to pass the time, she felt mushrooms were about to sprout on her from boredom. Only the nightly antics kept her interested.
Once she took the spirit herb tomorrow, she figured the seal would finally break. And along with that, she intended to uncover why she always fell into strange dreams after taking the herbs.
She wasn’t foolish enough to believe the dreams were just side effects. More likely, Chu Zhiqin had done something in secret—something she hadn’t caught yet.
Tomorrow night, no matter what, she would resist the drowsiness and get to the bottom of it.
Leng Junzhu placed the chicken leg on the ground. The puppy eagerly pounced on it, slurping hungrily.
Chu Zhiqin took a damp cloth and wiped Leng Junzhu’s greasy hands. “It’s getting chilly. Come inside and rest.”
Leng Junzhu pulled her clean hand back. “Mm.”
They entered the house, leaving the puppy to finish its meal. Perhaps because of the gravity of what tomorrow would bring, the two women remained quiet after returning inside. They washed up and went to bed without another word.
The next day, Chu Zhiqin once again followed the book’s instructions to cast the barrier.
A faint blue dome shimmered uncertainly over the courtyard, fragile as if a single touch could shatter it.
Chu Zhiqin dared not be distracted. All her spiritual energy was focused in her palms, channeled through her rapidly shifting hand seals to stabilize the barrier.
Gradually, it solidified into a perfect dome covering the entire yard.
Only after the final stream of energy was infused did she stop and wipe the sweat from her brow.
With the barrier in place, she felt more at ease. Tonight, she wouldn’t need to worry about demonic energy leaking out.
Leng Junzhu sat on the swing, coldly watching the whole process.
To her, the barrier was both useful and useless—it would depend entirely on her mood after breaking the seal.
Heaven may have opened a window for Chu Zhiqin, but it certainly closed a door.
Her spellcasting… was atrocious.
“Woof woof!”
The puppy came over with its bowl—it was feeding time.
Leng Junzhu tugged its ears. “All you do is eat. You’re going to get fat.”
The puppy blinked innocently, not understanding the scolding.
Leng Junzhu sighed and let it go.
“I’ll go cook. Don’t stay in the sun too long,” Chu Zhiqin said cheerfully, now in a good mood after completing the barrier.
Leng Junzhu waved her off. “Got it, Mother Chu.”
Chu Zhiqin wasn’t offended by the joke. She placed a large leaf over Leng Junzhu’s head to shield her from the noon sun.
Early spring sunlight was still hot. The puppy, thick-furred, ignored Leng Junzhu’s teasing and lay under the leaf for shade.
Girl and dog both lazed in the courtyard.
Soon, the smell of food drifted from the kitchen. The puppy twitched its nose and started drooling.
Leng Junzhu nudged its rear. “Greediest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The puppy said nothing, only sniffing more excitedly.
“Time to eat!” Chu Zhiqin called out, and the puppy bolted up with its bowl in its mouth, scampering to the kitchen.
Leng Junzhu sighed, speechless, and went to wash her hands before eating.
Lunch was mediocre. Chu Zhiqin had only started learning to cook properly after meeting Leng Junzhu.
After two months of effort, at least she no longer earned the scathing review of “pig slop.”
The puppy didn’t care either way. It gobbled everything down, afraid someone might take it away.
Leng Junzhu only ate a few bites. As a cultivator who had entered fasting, she didn’t feel hunger—meals were merely a way to pass time.
With the seal set to break tonight, she wasn’t in the mood for food.
Chu Zhiqin understood and quietly cleaned up, not disturbing her.
The puppy, however, scored a second meal and dug in despite its bulging belly.
Evening came. Dinner was quick again.
This time, Leng Junzhu didn’t drag Chu Zhiqin into the bath to mess around. She behaved, washed up, and let Chu Zhiqin use spiritual energy to dry her hair.
Once everything was ready, she swallowed the third spirit herb and lay in bed, waiting for the moment to arrive.
The flickering candlelight stretched Chu Zhiqin’s shadow across the room. The puppy lay asleep in its kennel outside, dreaming of endless chicken legs filling its bowl.
Sleepiness crept up on Leng Junzhu. She pretended to be asleep, slowing her breathing to lure Chu Zhiqin into making her move.
The long shadow shifted. It slowly crept across Leng Junzhu’s face—quiet, unmoving. As if admiring her sleeping beauty, or perhaps hesitating over what to do next.
Leng Junzhu could feel Chu Zhiqin’s gaze on her, tingling like an itch, making her want to open her eyes.
What was she trying to do?
Just as sleep threatened to overtake her, the shadow moved again.
Chu Zhiqin took out a white jade vial from her storage ring. A soft glow shimmered inside. As she pulled out the stopper, a small, round droplet floated up from the bottle.
Though her eyes were closed, Leng Junzhu sensed a coolness between her brows. Through the faint slit in her lids, she glimpsed Chu Zhiqin standing over her with the jade vial, eyes full of unreadable emotion.
Before sinking into darkness, Leng Junzhu used the last of her strength to memorize the vial’s appearance.
She would steal it later—and uncover the truth.
Darkness fell.
The dream began once more.