Under the sprawling branches of an ancient tree, Li Haimo lounged, regaling a group of Human Sect disciples with a risqué tale. "Once upon a time, a man and a woman were caught in a downpour while traveling. They found a small inn, but it had only one room left. The woman warned the man, 'If you dare touch me tonight, you're no better than a beast.' The man, ever the gentleman, kept his distance all night. Come morning, the woman woke, slapped him across the face, and snapped, 'Worse than a beast!'"
Laughter erupted among the disciples. A female disciple, puzzled, asked, "Why would she call him that and slap him? He did nothing wrong—such courtesy, such gentlemanly grace!" Her question drew a chorus of chuckles and knowing glances from the male disciples. A friend whispered something in her ear, and her face flushed crimson. "How crude!" she huffed, storming off, which only sparked more laughter.
"Little Martial Uncle, you've never left the mountain—how do you know such stories?" a disciple asked, grinning.
Li Haimo smirked. "I may not have ventured down, but your masters have. These tales spill out when they're deep in their cups. As for who told me… well, I'll keep that to myself." His eyes twinkled with mischief.
From behind, a stern voice cut through the air. "Wuchenzi, come with me!" It was Baiyunzi, the sect's notorious lightweight—one cup of wine and he was done for. The disciples exchanged glances, stifling giggles, as the tale's source seemed all too clear.
"Did I… hear Baiyunzi calling me?" Li Haimo muttered, feigning confusion. "Must be my imagination. Time to go!" With a quick gesture, he invoked Harmonizing with the Light, transforming into a streak of light and vanishing. Anywhere but here, he thought, heart racing. Baiyunzi's wrath was not something he cared to face.
He reappeared, panting, under a peach tree beside a steaming hot spring. A set of blue-and-white Daoist robes lay neatly folded nearby, next to a sword of unique design—Xueji. Oh, great. Xiaomeng's courtyard. Again.
"Wuchenzi, lost your way again?" Xiaomeng's voice, cool and teasing, came from behind. She turned to face him, her silver hair glistening in the steam. Li Haimo's knack for popping up unexpectedly via Harmonizing with the Light was infamous across the Daoist sects. Once, he'd materialized in the women's bathing pool at midnight, earning himself a swift escort back to the Human Sect and a reputation that echoed through both sects. The most scandalous incident, though, was when he'd appeared in Xiaomeng's bed. Neither spoke of it—she out of icy reserve, he out of sheer embarrassment.
"Ahem, no, I came to see you, Junior Sister Xiaomeng," Li Haimo said, scratching his head, though his cheeks betrayed him. Came to see her? While she's bathing? That's just asking for trouble.
"To watch me bathe?" Xiaomeng tilted her head, her tone flat but her eyes sharp. She didn't fully grasp the intricacies of men and women, but Li Haimo's frequent, bumbling appearances had stirred something in her. Around him, she felt an unfamiliar warmth, a strange joy she couldn't quite name. Why does being near him feel different?
"Er, no! I mean, Harmonizing with the Light misfired again," he admitted, shoulders slumping. Better to confess a mistake than be labeled a peeping tom.
Xiaomeng's gaze softened. "You really should visit the Little Sage's Manor. Your talent's wasted here." Her words surprised even herself—she, who rarely cared for others' paths, urging him to leave the mountain?
Li Haimo chuckled, masking his reluctance. Leave? And get beaten to a pulp down there? No thanks. But in front of Xiaomeng, he couldn't admit to cowardice. "Maybe someday. Hard to leave when I'd miss you, Junior Sister."
Xiaomeng froze, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Li Haimo's heart skipped. Fresh from the spring, her silver hair glowing, that blush… she's like a lotus blooming in moonlight. He was smitten.
"Senior Brother Chishongzi said you carried me up Taiyi Mountain years ago. Does that make you my brother?" Xiaomeng asked, her voice curious but steady.
"No, not quite," Li Haimo replied, leaning against the peach tree. "I found you on the road, guided by a seven-colored deer. It brought you to me, then vanished into the sky. That's all."
"Where did you come from, then?" she pressed, her eyes searching his.
Li Haimo fell silent. I came from Earth, but I can't go back. Nothing to miss there anyway. In this Qin Moon world, he was an orphan, raised amidst war's chaos. Ten homes stood, nine empty. He'd followed an old beggar, scraping by until the man left to fight, leaving him a broken bowl and fifty coins. Those coins were soon stolen by ruffians, and Li Haimo, starving, had wandered to Taiyi Mountain, hoping only to survive. "I was an orphan," he said at last, his voice soft. "Followed a beggar grandfather until he went off to war. I came to Taiyi Mountain alone, met you, and the Daoists took me in because of it." He smiled at the girl now seated beside him, her robes donned, her presence serene.
"Why do people fight wars?" Xiaomeng asked, tying her hair loosely with a ribbon.
"That's a question for rulers, not me," Li Haimo said, tugging the ribbon free. "Do you always tie your hair like this?"
"What else would I do?" Xiaomeng blinked, genuinely puzzled.
"Turn around." He gently spun her, drew Xueji, and sliced a branch from the peach tree. With swift, practiced motions, he carved a simple comb. Why am I so good at this? No idea, just feels right. "A girl should know how to adorn herself," he said, combing her silver hair smooth, braiding two small plaits, and coiling the rest into an elegant cloud-like bun. He carved a peach blossom hairpin and tucked it into her hair. "There. Much better than that messy ponytail."
Xiaomeng peered into the spring's reflection. Her silver hair, now neatly framed by braids and adorned with the delicate pink-white hairpin, looked ethereal. "Is this… beautiful?" she asked, the concept foreign to her.
"Very," Li Haimo said, nodding earnestly. Next time, I'll have the outer disciples bring back some proper hairpins and dresses.
"Then you'll do my hair every day," Xiaomeng declared, her tone matter-of-fact.
"Uh… sure," Li Haimo stammered, caught off guard by her steady gaze. How do I say no to that?
"You don't want to?" she asked, tilting her head.
"It's not that. In the mortal world, only a husband combs a woman's hair," he explained, half-teasing.
"We're Daoists. Why care about mortal rules?" Xiaomeng countered, her logic unshakable.
"Fair point," Li Haimo conceded, chuckling. Never argue with a woman, even one who doesn't grasp gender norms. "I'll do it."
"If you don't show up, I'll find you," Xiaomeng said, satisfied.
The next morning, Li Haimo awoke to find Xiaomeng perched on his bedside, her silver hair a tangled cascade nearly touching the floor. "You're here?" he yelped, startled.
"You said you'd do my hair every day," she replied, pointing to the mess. "It's tangled."
"Alright, sit still." He combed her hair gently, shaping it into another elegant style. When he finished, Xiaomeng gave a rare, faint smile. "I'm off to train with Master," she said, leaving with a lightness in her step.
Beauty's universal, even for a Daoist, Li Haimo thought, smiling as he rose, washed, and ate breakfast before heading to the scripture pavilion.
Suddenly, the world dimmed, as if time itself froze. Li Haimo's body locked, unable to move. What the hell? Who's doing this? A chilling realization hit him. This range of power… even Xiaoyaozi couldn't manage this. Beimingzi?! Why is he here?
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