The Thousand-Layer Schemes of the Sickly Beautiful Master - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Qing Zhuxue began her life of delivering letters across various peaks.

On the seventh day, she carried Yun Shuchen’s letter to the Sect Leader’s Hall.

The Sect Leader was a kind and gentle man. Seeing the child exhausted, her legs trembling, he felt pity and let her rest in the hall for a long time, offering tea and snacks.

During this time, he quietly checked her wrist bone, sending in a wisp of divine sense.

He found her bone structure clear and pure, remarkably stunning.

Such a child was suited for cultivation. If nurtured well, she could have a bright future.

Qing Zhuxue was gentle and polite, speaking little, almost too mature for her age. Compared to the mischievous disciples under his care, he grew fonder of her and felt a desire to nurture her talent.

It would be nice if he could persuade this little girl to join his sect.

The Sect Leader felt no shame in trying to steal her from another. He thought Yun Shuchen’s heart was too harsh. While climbing mountains was good for health, she shouldn’t bully a young girl like this.

Before parting, he gave her a small token. “Little friend, take this. Consider it a reward for your hard work.”

“What is this…” The token felt heavy in her hand, and Qing Zhuxue sensed it was something important.

“The Sect Leader’s token.”

The Sect Leader looked at her kindly, speaking in a tone meant to coax a child. “Whoever sees this token is as if seeing the Sect Leader himself. If Elder Yun orders you to do this or that and you don’t want to, show this, and she won’t dare touch you.”

“This is too valuable. I can’t accept it.” Qing Zhuxue frowned. In the folklore tales she read as a child, such items were one of a kind.

The Sect Leader thought for a moment, pulled out a bag of wooden tokens, and poured them onto the table with a clatter. He generously said, “The black iron one is indeed too precious for a child and inconvenient to carry. No matter, I have many maple wood ones here.”

“Every five years, we replace them. Sometimes, when a great cultivator ascends, we make new designs to commemorate. Pick one you like.”

“…”

And so, Qing Zhuxue returned to Crane Feather Peak with her day’s reward—the Sect Leader’s token.

She walked through the spring snow, her pace quicker today after days of relentless training. She could see the soft purple sunset beyond the peak, warm and tender. Her legs were no longer as weak as before; they were much stronger now.

The token.

Qing Zhuxue thought about it and hid it away. She was grateful for Yun Shuchen’s kindness. Somehow, Yun Shuchen’s magic had protected her from disasters and kept others safe. She now had her own little space and three meals a day, which were quite good.

She was already content.

Though Elder Yun’s tasks were exhausting, if they made her happy, that was fine.

Qing Zhuxue had nothing to repay Yun Shuchen with, so she held no grudges. The Sect Leader’s token was something she wouldn’t need.

Dinner was already done. Today, there were four beautifully made meatballs, the kind children loved.

Four in a plate, neatly arranged, as if made just for her. The lingering spiritual energy kept them warm, perfect when eaten.

“Very tasty.” She looked at the tabby cat.

The little tabby cat stared back with glowing green eyes and meowed.

After eating, she tidied up and returned to her room. The furniture was ready, and new bedding had been washed and delivered. She no longer needed to spend nights floating in Yun Shuchen’s room.

Her chosen room was further in, so she had to pass Yun Shuchen’s door to reach it.

Through a layer of window gauze, she saw dim yellow lamplight, suggesting Yun Shuchen was still awake.

For some reason, Qing Zhuxue always slowed her steps when passing her door.

These past few days, they only met at meals. Yun Shuchen would occasionally tease her or pat her head, but most times, she treated her as if she weren’t there.

Qing Zhuxue lay on her bed, rubbing her sore legs. This was one lesson from the past seven days: if she didn’t massage her tense legs, she’d be too sore to get out of bed the next day.

Nights on Crane Feather Peak were quiet.

Back in her hometown, she’d hear neighbors’ children crying, couples arguing, distant dogs barking, or insects chirping at night.

Here, there was only the sound of the wind. Once the windows and doors were closed, the world felt as small as her little corner.

As she massaged her legs, a faint noise came from far away, like something falling, startling in the silent night.

It came from Elder Yun’s room?

Qing Zhuxue paused her rubbing. After a moment, she put on her clothes, clutched her collar, got off the bed, climbed onto the wooden table by the window, and opened it a crack. She peered through the gap toward that room.

The light still glowed dimly yellow.

Should she check?

The rough feel of the red rope around her ankle seemed to remind her that getting closer wouldn’t make things worse.

Qing Zhuxue steadied herself and knocked on Yun Shuchen’s door.

“Come in.”

After a brief silence, a soft permission came from inside.

Pushing open the door, a bitter medicinal scent filled her nose. Qing Zhuxue saw a messy floor with broken porcelain and dark brown liquid.

Behind the beaded curtain, a woman’s figure was vague. She sat up, coughing softly a few times.

“You?” She lifted a corner of the curtain, revealing half her delicate face. “Good timing. Pour me a cup of hot tea.”

Qing Zhuxue lifted the teapot from the table and carefully poured half a cup, handing it to her.

“Are you sick?”

“Just an old ailment.” Yun Shuchen took a sip, then frowned. “Close the door tightly. The cold wind is seeping in.”

Qing Zhuxue looked back. She’d closed the door lightly when entering, leaving a small gap. She hadn’t felt the cold herself, but Yun Shuchen, half-reclining in bed under a blanket, noticed the slight chill.

She quickly closed the door properly, and Yun Shuchen’s grip on her blanket loosened.

“Do you still need to take medicine?”

So even cultivators could get sick, even so frail as to fear the cold.

Qing Zhuxue adjusted her understanding.

“I’ll brew more tomorrow. I accidentally spilled this batch.” Yun Shuchen sighed. “The night’s cool as water, and the medicine tastes even bitterer.”

“Good medicine is bitter but heals. The bitterness probably isn’t tied to the time of day.”

Her voice was soft and clear in the bedroom, her words steady and mature, lacking a child’s playfulness.

Yun Shuchen couldn’t help but think of her sect’s founder, who died over a hundred years ago. He spoke in a similar tone two centuries back.

She smiled. “You’re talkative today.”

Qing Zhuxue froze, realizing her words might offend Elder Yun. She lowered her eyes and, after a pause, said, “I… I’ll clean this up for you.”

She crouched down, carefully picking up the porcelain shards and wrapping them in a handkerchief. Her movements were clumsy. As Yun Shuchen glanced over, she saw the girl’s small hands, scratched with fine marks, not shying away.

From her awkward tea-pouring and shard-picking, Yun Shuchen guessed she hadn’t done much housework at home. She was likely a pampered child.

Her plain clothes suggested she wasn’t from a wealthy family.

Her refined speech and full literacy hinted at being influenced by educated elders, likely poor scholars, given her modest background.

Yun Shuchen, half-propped up, lazily watched her work, mentally piecing things together. Having lived so long, with empires rising and falling, she could read a child’s background with a glance, no questions needed.

Why was this child here in the middle of the night? Not out of true concern. Likely, she felt indebted for the favors received and wanted to do something to repay them.

Yun Shuchen lay on her side, listening to the careful sounds behind her. After cleaning, Qing Zhuxue seemed to wipe the floor dry. Thinking Yun Shuchen was asleep, she didn’t disturb her, quietly leaving and remembering to close the door tightly.

This stubborn, honest simplicity wasn’t annoying.

The next day, Yun Shuchen, perhaps still unwell, didn’t send Qing Zhuxue on errands or even get out of bed.

At breakfast, Qing Zhuxue only saw the tabby cat staring at her. The meal was light: porridge with minced lotus root and osmanthus, soft yet crisp, with a sweet, lingering rice and floral aroma.

In the afternoon, with rare free time, Qing Zhuxue wandered the courtyard.

A large locust tree grew in the front yard, its lush branches nearly covering half the space.

Further in was a corridor bridge, flanked by a pond with vibrant, plump carp. Stone tiles on the water led to a small pavilion in the pond’s center.

From afar, she saw a familiar figure in the pavilion.

Yun Shuchen beckoned her over.

The weather was clear today, with snow faintly melting, revealing green grass.

March finally felt warm. The sick beauty’s complexion looked better than it did under last night’s lamplight.

A small fire warmed medicine on the pavilion’s stone table, with candied fruit beside it.

Qing Zhuxue thought, so she really dislikes bitterness.

“I heard once you’re used to climbing mountains,” Yun Shuchen said gently, “missing a day feels uncomfortable.”

The child’s legs trembled slightly.

“Let you feel uncomfortable today.” Yun Shuchen smiled. “Why are you shaking? Are you scared of me?”

Qing Zhuxue pursed her lips, looking at her without speaking.

“Little quiet gourd.”

Yun Shuchen gave this assessment. In front of her, she poured a cup of thick, black, bitter medicine as if pouring tea. Then, with lowered eyes, she held the cup, blowing lightly on it.

It happened suddenly.

Before Qing Zhuxue could react, the bitter cup’s rim was pressed firmly against her mouth.