"Time's still early. It's no easy trip, so we'll stay here in this remote ravine to cultivate for a while," Zhao Xunan said, shaking his head.
Zhao Ping'er pouted. "Cultivating means sitting still like a log? No fun at all—I'll suffocate!"
Zhao Xunan chuckled, rubbing her head. "Relax. It'll be fun. After all, you're the one practicing, not me."
"Huh?" Zhao Ping'er's eyes widened.
He pressed a salty radish stick into her hand.
Having spent time in this ravine in his past life, Zhao Xunan knew the frigid river here was colder than ever—colder than ice, even. This extreme cold was why he'd stayed: Zhao Ping'er's Cold Cicada Art thrived in such conditions. Without a natural cold spring, this ravine was her best chance to practice.
He tossed seven copper coins to the ground, studying the divination. "Auspicious. All good."
An incense stick later, Zhao Ping'er stood by the river in her undergarments, face ashen. "I refuse to jump in—it's too cold!"
Zhao Xunan kicked her gently into the water. "Nonsense. Don't waste this chance. Guard your dantian and circulate the Cold Cicada Art!"
Shivering, Zhao Ping'er scrambled to sit cross-legged. Within moments, her flushed skin returned to its usual pallor.
Zhao Xunan stared, impressed. Her talent was staggering—far beyond what a second-realm cultivator should have. If she'd been born in his past life, she'd have been a prodigy among prodigies.
But he hadn't expected her to meditate for nine days straight. The once-icy river had warmed to a gentle flow, and even the dragon carp—accustomed to the cold—had flipped belly-up. Thankfully, she'd woken before causing a massacre.
"Strange," Zhao Xunan muttered, pinching her wrist. "Your qi is overflowing, but you haven't broken through."
Zhao Ping'er, now munching on a flatbread, shrugged. "You're only second-realm. If I advanced, wouldn't that upset the order? Heaven's playing tricks."
"When you hit third-realm, I'll leap right after," she added with a grin.
Zhao Xunan snorted. "Daydreaming. Cultivation's like building a mountain—every day's practice adds a stone. No shortcuts."
Zhao Ping'er fell silent, not daring to argue. She knew his temper; push too hard, and she'd get a pinch.
With no progress, Zhao Xunan decided to leave. They departed the warm ravine, driving through snow toward Xuanwu Pass.
On the 26th day of the twelfth lunar month, their carriage entered the city under the watchful gaze of the guard. The man gaped—two people and a mule, returning unharmed after a month? Unbelievable.
As they left Xuanwu Pass, a warm breeze carried the scent of spring. They lifted the cotton curtains to find buds sprouting on trees and green grass peeking through the snow—spring had arrived early.
The two, still childlike, leapt out to pick wild greens, their laughter echoing.
"Boom!"
A deafening roar split the sky. A blazing meteor streaked across, trailing fire, shaking the earth. Zhao Xunan clenched his fist—this was the omen of the Great Kunlun's opening.
"Master… I'm dizzy," Zhao Ping'er said, clutching her chest. The meteor's passage had left her gasping, pain stabbing her heart.
Zhao Xunan helped her back to the carriage, feeding her water. Her color returned, but she remained weak.
Over the next two days, her health declined. Even medicine from local doctors didn't help. With New Year's approaching, Zhao Xunan rented a house in Pan Shi City, determined to let her rest.
"It's my fault you're stuck here," Zhao Ping'er mumbled from bed.
"Nonsense," Zhao Xunan said, feeding her soup. "What's the point of the Spring Examinations without you?"
"You're my treasure. The Examinations can't compare."
He smiled. "When you turn twenty, I'll petition to free your servitude. You've been Zhao family since birth—not a servant."
"If you don't want me, I won't come," she said, clutching his hand.
"Never," Zhao Xunan said. "Now eat."
The next day, Zhao Ping'er devoured five bowls of millet porridge, leaving Zhao Xunan worried. The next morning, it was New Year's Eve. Pan Shi City glittered with lanterns.
Zhao Xunan wanted to celebrate quietly, but a servant knocked, bearing an invitation from the great scholar Huai Lin to a Lunar New Year poetry gathering at Xiaolin Villa.
"Mr. Huai Lin? I don't know him," Zhao Xunan said.
The servant grinned. "All scholars in Pan Shi are invited. Mr. Huai Lin says even strangers deserve warmth on New Year's."
They dressed in new clothes and drove to Xiaolin Villa. Outside, carriages crowded the trees—some bore the blue-and-purple crest of the Hanlin Academy.
"This gathering's going to be big," Zhao Xunan said. A Hanlin scholar's presence meant imperial connections.
Buying gifts, they entered. The steward stared at their simple gift box. "A scholar like you… bringing lane-shop pastries?"
"Don't overthink," Zhao Xunan said. "A small gift shows respect without arrogance."
Inside, the main hall buzzed with scholars. When Huai Lin opened their gift—a box of still-warm green bean pastries—the room erupted in praise.
"Not bad for a lane shop," a Hanlin scholar said, nibbling.
Huai Lin chuckled. "Young Mr. Zhao has talent—and a playful side. 'One pastry per person'—clever."
The crowd laughed, impressed by his wit.
By nightfall, lanterns lit the villa. The poetry gathering was held in a clearing, with bonfires warming the air. Zhao Xunan and Zhao Ping'er took seats, watching dancers and chatting with guests.
At dusk, Huai Lin and the Hanlins took their places. "Tonight, we'll write about 'New Year's Eve.' First prize: ten taels of gold."
Scholars tensed, eager to impress. Servants cleared the tables, replacing them with ink and paper.
An hour later, the steward read the top poem aloud:
"East Wind blows a thousand flowers overnight,
Thousands of doors glow with dawn's light.
Old charms are replaced with new—
A fresh start for all, in this bright night."
The crowd applauded. "Brilliant!"
Huai Lin nodded. "Ten taels to Mr. Zhao."
Zhao Ping'er clapped, eyes sparkling. Zhao Xunan shook his head. "Don't push your luck. Share opportunities—this is how the world works."
She pouted but nodded.
More poems followed, but Zhao Xunan's were modest, drawing quiet respect.
The gathering lasted till midnight, with dumplings and fireworks lighting the sky.
Huai Lin raised a cup. "Zhao Xunan, show us your best. Close the gathering with a masterpiece!"
Zhao Xunan stood, bowing. Staring at the fireworks, he spoke:
"East Wind blows a thousand flowers overnight,
Starlight falls like rain, bright and clear.
Jade carriages perfume the road,
Phoenix flutes play, as fish-dragons dance—
A night of endless cheer."
Silence fell. Then Huai Lin asked, "The title?"
"Green Jade Table: New Year's Eve."
The room erupted in awe. This was no ordinary scholar—this was a prodigy.