Morning light slanted in through the paper window, spilling a warm scatter of broken gold across the bed.
Yu Wenqiu was curled up under the quilt with only half her face and a mess of fluffy hair showing.
Her eyes were still shut, but the corners of her mouth curved up past all control — like a cat that had stolen the fish and was trying very hard to look composed.
Gu Chengming took in the sight and laughed helplessly. "Elder Little Yu ought to be getting up."
A muffled grumble came from under the quilt. "Let me sleep a little longer…"
He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the humped bedding squirm faintly.
At last Yu Wenqiu deigned to poke her head out, cheeks still flushed and marked with drool, insisting on an air of complete righteousness.
Last night's Dual Cultivation had gone round and round in her head all night, and now that she was properly awake the embarrassment caught up with her and doubled.
But then she saw the look on Gu Chengming's face — the look of a man who had no idea what to do with her — and the sweetness rising in her drowned the shame.
— Wasn't this exactly the scene she'd been hoping for all those years?
In the storybooks she used to read, phrases like "raising the tray level with the brow" and "lute and zither in harmony" had always struck her as cloying, like too much honey stirred into plain water, sticky in the throat.
But lying here now, every breath she drew carried his scent, warmth seeping out from under the quilt until even the air turned thick and clinging.
So the storybooks hadn't been talking nonsense after all.
"Hungry?" Gu Chengming asked.
"…A little."
"I'll go make some congee. Stay where you are."
Yu Wenqiu gave an obedient little "mm" and burrowed deeper into the quilt.
The moment he stood, she cracked one eye open and watched his back disappear through the door — then rolled over, buried her face in the pillow, and giggled like an idiot.
By the time the congee came back, she was already sitting up, the quilt bunched around her waist, long hair loose because she clearly hadn't bothered to comb it.
She took the bowl and sipped at it in small mouthfuls, her eyes forever flicking up to his face.
"What is Elder Little Yu staring at me for?"
"I like you."
Yu Wenqiu buried her face in the bowl, the tips of her ears red enough to bleed.
Seeing that Elder Little Yu had grown a good deal bolder since unlocking her CG, Gu Chengming felt a certain urge to tease her.
"By the way, that outfit Elder Little Yu was wearing last night…?"
At those words she went rigid, her gaze drifting off, and only after a long pause did she squeeze a few syllables out through her teeth.
"Not — not important."
"Did you work it out with the Clairvoyant Eye?"
"Nothing of the sort."
Watching her cover it up so transparently, he had a fair idea of the truth.
No wonder she'd been dressed up like a scallion rolled in a pancake. Gu Chengming had even worked out how she must have run the divination, but he only smiled and let the question drop.
Yu Wenqiu let out a breath — and then a fresh grievance stirred. Come to think of it, Little Gu had been far too good at it yesterday, so good she'd caught herself sticking her tongue out without meaning to.
How was Little Gu so practiced! Exactly how many times had he done this with other girls!?
Her thoughts ran wild while she stirred the congee into a whirlpool.
Never mind. As long as it went down well.
Whether the Clairvoyant Eye's divination had been accurate was one question; at least the result had been good.
As for the… finer details along the way, they could rot in her belly.
Yu Wenqiu drained the bowl in one determined go, then snuck a glance up — only to find him holding his own bowl and watching her, unhurried. She ducked her face back toward the bowl and pretended to study the pattern at the bottom.
Gu Chengming found the sight far more appetizing than the congee, but he swallowed the rest of what he'd been going to say. Any more teasing and Elder Little Yu would burrow into the bedding and refuse to come out at all.
He set his bowl down, reached over to rub her still-tangled hair, and said quietly, "Finish it and sleep a bit longer. Nothing's urgent today."
She made a small sound of assent. Outside, the sun climbed inch by inch; wind brushed the bronze bell at the eaves, and its single clear chime answered the sound of water inside the room.
The next few days were very comfortable ones for Gu Chengming.
By day he went out with Yu Wenqiu — practicing sword on the back mountain, or leafing through books in the Scripture Repository — occasionally hauled off by Ren Wencai for questioning, which amounted to nothing more than cultivation insights and news from the outside world. In the evenings he came back to the room, where Elder Little Yu waited with a red face. The days flew.
His Fourth Realm cultivation firmed up quickly as well.
True essence flowed through his meridians like a river; every aperture ran a good deal clearer than it had at Third Realm, and his reserves of spiritual power had more than doubled.
There was, admittedly, a pressing map-upgrade problem staring him in the face, but until that upgrade arrived Gu Chengming reckoned he was a match for anyone below the Sixth Realm.
— Maybe he was already on even footing with Director Zhou?
Gu Chengming's head swelled a little at the thought.
Of course, at the moment there was no way to test the theory…
The Flowing Cloud Moon-Tracing Sovereign's reply arrived on the evening of the third day.
The jade slip became a shaft of moonlight and settled in his palm, the writing inside clean and elegant:
"To my young friend: with the matter of the jiao-dragon concluded, take a short rest at your sect and report your safety, then spare the time to make a trip to Yunyue. There are several matters I would discuss with you; the stakes are such that they are best spoken face to face. Do not delay."
He tucked the jade slip into his sleeve and filed the matter away.
And in the middle of these peaceful days, someone Gu Chengming had not anticipated arrived at the Wenjian Sect.
None other than Zhou Qingmu.
Shen Qianqiu took the Director's arrival very seriously, ordering the disciples to sweep the main path three days in advance. Gu Chengming had thought Sect Leader Shen's preparations were already ceremonious enough — until he passed the mountain gate and looked up.
A banner hung squarely between the stone pillars of the gate, reading:
[A WARM WELCOME TO DIRECTOR ZHOU QINGMU OF THE GREAT QIAN NIGHT-WATCH BUREAU ON THE OCCASION OF HER INSPECTION AND GUIDANCE VISIT TO OUR WENJIAN SECT]
He turned to look at Shen Qianqiu, who was busy directing disciples to adjust the banner's height.
Uncomfortable under that stare, Shen Qianqiu coughed. "Courtesy must be complete."
Something in Gu Chengming twisted oddly — the whole thing felt exactly like a leadership inspection back in his previous life.
Still, distinctive as the banner's aesthetic was, there was nothing actually wrong with Sect Leader Shen's arrangements.
Gu Chengming filed away his private commentary and kept his face perfectly straight.
Just then wind stirred along the distant horizon, and a saber-qi as cold and clear as moonlight came down out of the clouds.
The moment Zhou Qingmu stepped through the mountain gate, her gaze rested on the banner for a beat, and she nodded, satisfied.
Of course, though Zhou Qingmu officially came on the Great Qian's behalf to confer with the various sects about the Great Tribulation, her visit to the Wenjian Sect was plainly aimed at Gu Chengming.
So once her discussion with Shen Qianqiu was finished, she came looking for him soon enough — and then gave him a distinctly reproachful look.
"Very carefree of you. Off you went, and not one letter sent back to the Capital."
"Forgive me, Director." Gu Chengming cupped his hands with a placating smile.
Ever since they'd parted at the Tianque Secret Realm she had kept saying come to the Capital, come often — and she had pushed the objections aside and finally nailed down the post of Deputy Director of the Night-Watch Bureau for him, meaning it as a surprise.
And then she hadn't laid eyes on him once since.
Which had left Zhou Qingmu feeling a bit like some lonely old woman with no family left.
Now, hearing he'd come back to the Wenjian Sect, she'd finally run out of patience and come knocking herself.
The reproaches lasted only a line or two; Zhou Qingmu wasn't that sort of person to begin with. Compared with his failure to visit the Capital, what she cared about far more was…
"When did you reach the Fourth Realm?" she asked, feeling out the fluctuations around him, plainly delighted.
"Broke through a few days ago. Got lucky."
Apparently used to Gu Chengming's "got lucky" line, Zhou Qingmu's gaze shifted from reproach to interest — and from interest to a distinct itch.
"Convenient." She laid a hand on her saber hilt. "Spar with me."
That stirred him. Since breaking into the Fourth Realm he'd been wanting someone to measure his real level against, but inside the Wenjian Sect the seniors were awkward to strike at and his peers couldn't survive a few exchanges. Director Zhou, half a step into the Sixth Realm and with almost no equal within the Fifth, was exactly the right partner.
So he cupped his hands. "Nothing would please me more."
The words had barely faded before she drew. The saber was black through and through, its blade throwing back no sunlight at all… but it didn't look like "Night-Sever," the Director's usual weapon.
Before he could follow the thought any further, she had already moved.
Saber-wind hit him in the face. Not one probing feint — she bore straight down on him with the full weight of Fifth Realm cultivation, her saber-force like splashed-ink landscape painting, broad and sweeping. One cut carried the whole weather of a cut.
He turned aside, toe touching down as he slid back, mildly startled. Zhou Qingmu's blade was faster than it had been in the Tianque Secret Realm, and fiercer. Perhaps back then she'd had to spare attention for the larger situation. Now she was fighting with everything she had.
The gap between realms really wasn't a joke… on stat-sheet numbers alone, her true essence and physical strength both outstripped his.
In a straight slugging match a Fourth Realm foundation wouldn't hold for long. But Gu Chengming had never fought off his stat sheet; when punching above his realm he had always leaned hard on mechanics.
The next instant the Ten Perfections Sword Formation unfolded, ten flying swords locking down the ten directions, Cling sword intent weaving itself into a dense, unbroken net that used the formation's pull to keep hunting for openings.
Zhou Qingmu's saber shattered the blockade line of three flying swords, momentum undiminished, and reversed into a horizontal sweep.
Gu Chengming dropped low and slid beneath the edge, slapping his sword flat against her blade and bouncing clear on the rebound.
"Not bad," Zhou Qingmu said, turning her edge and pursuing.
Her style wasn't flashy. No elaborate variations, every stroke direct — and yet it was precisely those direct strokes that carried a kind of easy composure, heavy things lifted lightly.
But after a while, her breathing began to slip out of rhythm.
This brat's movement art was outrageous. His cultivation was lower than hers, yet every time her edge was about to land it fell short by a hair — and across that hair there was always a flying sword. The sheer obnoxiousness of the Cling sword intent went well beyond what she'd expected, too.
Another cut carved empty air. She spun with the momentum, knocking two ambushing swords away with the spine of her blade while driving a kick at his chest.
Gu Chengming rode the force out past the reach of her saber, and three flying swords stabbed into the ground where she was about to land, forcing her to change position.
Both retreated three paces and faced each other across the platform, a thin sweat at her temple.
She looked at the young man opposite her, and the interest in her eyes finally became genuine astonishment. There was no question about it: he had traded blows with her, back and forth, as an equal.
True, she had a trump card she hadn't played — but she suspected he had one too. And even if he didn't, the result was staggering enough on its own.
She was half a step into the Sixth Realm, with barely an opponent to be found among Fifth Realm cultivators. Setting aside the ceiling that Dharma-Stations imposed, killing across realms had long since become routine for her.
And Gu Chengming was more absurd still. Fourth Realm, fighting a half-step Sixth Realm to a draw?
One more exchange, and Zhou Qingmu came off half a move behind. She stopped there.
She stood blankly for a long moment, and then she laughed.
"Good!" She slid the saber home, the smile lingering.
Gu Chengming saluted back, his own breathing less than even, though his face held steady. "You went easy on me, Director."
"Don't." She waved a hand, and now there was real appreciation in the smile. "If I hadn't held back, I couldn't say with any confidence how today would have gone."
The bout had clearly left her thoroughly satisfied, and she used the opening to state her purpose. "Besides discussing the Great Tribulation with Sect Leader Shen, there's another matter I came to the Wenjian Sect for. I want your help."
"Please speak, Director."
Zhou Qingmu didn't come straight out with it. Instead she asked, "Has Sect Leader Shen told you the particulars of the Great Tribulation?"
Gu Chengming nodded. "A little… the Great Tribulation isn't a single event but a process, with a great many things happening inside it."
"Correct." She looked ahead, her voice level. "A good many Sixth Realm cultivators dropped out of sight some time ago, and the official word was that they'd gone to deal with the Great Tribulation. But 'Great Tribulation' is only a blanket phrase. The causality tangled up in it is extraordinarily complicated."
"The Sixth Realm Sovereigns each went to different places, to handle different things. Some went to suppress the spirit tides overflowing where the Heavenly Dao's balance had failed. Some went to seal cracked Secret Realm passages. And some… went to deal with a far thornier piece of trouble."
She paused. "Do you know of the Wanton Joy Sovereign?"
Gu Chengming's brows shifted. "The Wanton Joy Sovereign?"
She seemed to have expected the confusion. She set her teacup on the stone stool and turned to face him. "You already know that when a Fifth Realm cultivator proves a Dharma-Station, he steps into the Sixth Realm and becomes a Sovereign."
"And Dharma-Stations are not equal. Two men may both stand at the Sixth Realm, but with different Dharma-Stations their fighting strength can be worlds apart."
Gu Chengming nodded.
"Then do you know how Dharma-Stations are arranged?" She traced a vertical line on the surface of the stone stool with one finger, then drew several horizontal offshoots from either side of it. "The order of Dharma-Stations is like a tree. There is a trunk, and there are branches. What a Sixth Realm Sovereign proves is some single point upon a branch."
"And the Seventh Realm—" her finger returned to the vertical line and dragged hard upward along it, "—is taking one entire trunk of that tree into yourself."
Gu Chengming turned that over. "So Sixth Realm Sovereigns standing on the same trunk are, in effect, competitors?"
He'd used the word "competitors."
Which was, frankly, putting it very gently indeed. To block a man's road to the Dao was a matter settled only by death. To prove the Seventh Realm, one had to kill every Sixth Realm Sovereign who had proven a Dharma-Station on the same trunk, let those Dharma-Stations return to the Heavenly Dao, and then prove each of them oneself.
One man attains the Dao; all who walk his road die.
And Gu Chengming thought again of the Flowing Cloud Moon-Tracing Sovereign's Moon Within Clouds, and that Eternal Life Sect Perfected One's Counterflow Gu — both branches of the same Unfettered River.
And on the Emerald Screen Range the Sovereign had taken Qin Wuwang's head with a single stroke, and then set out personally to hunt the Eternal Life Sect Perfected One down…
So the Sovereign, she—
Zhou Qingmu didn't linger on that topic. She picked up her cup, drank, and went on. "That Wanton Joy Sovereign was a Seventh Realm Sovereign."
"He fused every Dharma-Station on a single trunk into his own flesh."
Gu Chengming frowned. Fuse Dharma-Stations into flesh and blood? How had he managed that? By rights the body's carrying capacity had a hard limit. Take the Myriad-Theft Immortal Sovereign — he hadn't dared attempt anything of the kind even to lock down a single Dharma-Station. The body's limit would likely rupture under one, never mind every Dharma-Station along an entire "trunk"…
The Myriad-Theft Immortal Sovereign had exhausted every scheme he had merely to seal one Dharma-Station away for a successor, and even that had been an extreme feat bought with a ruined body.
"Could his body take it?"
Her answer wasn't what he expected. "No. So he died."
"The Wanton Joy Sovereign — the world called him the Mad Joy Heavenly Venerate, and also the Flesh-and-Blood Playmaster." She set the cup aside and folded her hands over her knee. "There was one line of his that spread widely while he lived."
"The Heavenly Dao is a play, and Dharma-Stations are its lines. If the Heavenly Dao has already cast its players, why not burn the script and write your own final act?"
"He regarded the whole system of Dharma-Stations as the Heavenly Dao's yoke for breaking all living things to harness. So before his body came apart, he refined himself, together with every one of those Dharma-Stations, into a spirit artifact."
"A spirit artifact congealed from the flesh of a Seventh Realm Sovereign and the Dharma-Stations of an entire trunk."
"For ten thousand years the thing has been sealed away in a secret ground jointly watched by the Great Qian and several of the great sects. But once the Great Tribulation of Heaven and Earth began, the seal started to loosen."
"The sects' Sovereigns have already made one attempt at it." She paused. "Unfortunately it only half succeeded."
"Which is why I came to you. The Wanton Joy Sovereign's remains are the thorniest known matter in this Great Tribulation so far."
"I want you to go with me to the place where the Wanton Joy Sovereign is sealed… will you?"
Gu Chengming was silent a while, weighing it for a long moment before he answered. "Then I'd best obey rather than stand on ceremony."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "Then it's settled."
With that arranged, Gu Chengming excused himself first and went back to make his preparations for the road.
He went to report the matter to Shen Qianqiu first. Sect Leader Shen didn't say much, only nodded, offered a few words of caution about being careful on the way, and pressed two life-saving protective talismans into his hands.
Only then did he return to his own courtyard. Hearing that he'd be going to the Capital with Director Zhou, Yu Wenqiu was reluctant to let him go, though she was used to it by now.
She only puffed out her cheeks at him and said something to the effect that since they wouldn't see each other for a few months, they'd better get a few months' worth of lovemaking done all at once.
In the event she passed out before the night was half over. A total small fry.
He'd assumed the rest would be a routine matter of setting out with Zhou Qingmu.
Instead, the day before they were to leave for the Capital, another person Gu Chengming hadn't foreseen came back to the Wenjian Sect.
— Luo Jinyao.
Word was that the situation in the Northern Territory had settled and Snowfall Pass's defensive line had firmed up again, so she'd found herself a pretext, taken leave, and come south.
The official version was that she was returning to report, and bringing back the past month's demon activity in the Northern Territory along with the stirrings of the various rogue cultivator factions, so the Wenjian Sect could prepare in advance.
But Gu Chengming had a feeling Elder Luo's purpose in coming back wasn't entirely that — and the feeling was confirmed half an hour later.
The moment she finished her business with Shen Qianqiu and Ren Wencai, she came looking for him.
Luo Jinyao stood in the hall, her plain white sword robe catching the candlelight, silver hair falling like a waterfall to her waist. She tilted her head toward Gu Chengming as he pushed the door open, and the cold in her eyes thawed at once into a gentle smile.
"Little Gu. It's been a while."
Gu Chengming cupped his hands. "Senior Luo."
Her gaze settled on him again, looking him up and down.
"Oh? Fourth Realm?"
Luo Jinyao rose, crossed to him, and lifted a hand to his wrist. Her fingertips were cool, her true essence seeping into his meridians in fine threads to feel her way through.
"Foundation's solid enough. But your spiritual power circulates a little restlessly… have you been pushing too hard lately?"
"It's fine…"
She withdrew her hand, her tone acquiring the particular fussiness of an elder. "Cultivation is like commanding troops: keeping to the rules is the orthodox road. Your foundation is good, but it's been piled up too fast all the same. I'll write you a nourishing prescription later. Sit in meditation by it for four hours every morning."
Having said that much, she remembered something and drew a porcelain vial from her sleeve.
"Take this." Gu Chengming accepted it, pulled the stopper, and breathed in — the cool, clear scent of spirit herbs sank into his lungs.
"Meridian-Guarding Pills, refined in the Northern Territory. Good for restless spiritual power. Your foundation is steady, but your meridians are still tender, and one dose less does more good than ten doses more."
"…Thank you, Senior Sister Luo."
Luo Jinyao was satisfied at last. Not long after, Zhou Qingmu came looking for them as well.
She and Luo Jinyao counted as old acquaintances — before Luo Jinyao took up the guard of Snowfall Pass, she had been Night-Watch Bureau herself, and even now traffic between the Bureau and Snowfall Pass was constant, with Northern Territory military affairs overlapping often enough.
The two of them met, exchanged brief nods, and made small talk.
Luo Jinyao looked her over. "The Night-Watch Bureau not so busy these days?"
"Extremely busy." Zhou Qingmu smiled. "Though I did find time for a trip out of office recently."
Her gaze skimmed over Gu Chengming without leaving a trace. Luo Jinyao saw it, and said nothing.
Toward evening, the gathering broke up.
Zhou Qingmu had meant to find Gu Chengming and go over tomorrow's departure — but what she saw at the back-mountain training ground stopped her cold.
Luo Jinyao sat on the stone steps with a peeled snow-spirit fruit resting on her knee, breaking it apart piece by small piece and passing them to Gu Chengming beside her. He took them and ate as a matter of course, as easily as if he were sunning himself in his own courtyard.
"The Northern Territory grows these too, but the fruit up there is astringent. Not this sweet." Luo Jinyao snapped off another piece without hurry and pointed at the fine grain in the flesh. "This variety is unique to the Wenjian Sect's back mountain. You never noticed before?"
"Haven't eaten many."
"Then eat more from now on." Perfectly naturally, Luo Jinyao took out a handkerchief and wiped the juice from the corner of his mouth.
Gu Chengming: "…"
Had Senior Sister Luo's maternal radiance gotten stronger again?
Zhou Qingmu watched from behind a tree for a good long while, and something she had no name for rose in her.
Her own relationship with Gu Chengming still amounted, in the end, to superior and subordinate. Closer than with others, at most.
That effortless, wholly natural intimacy of Luo Jinyao's… was frankly enviable.
So after nightfall, Zhou Qingmu knocked on the door of Luo Jinyao's room.
Luo Jinyao was wiping down her sword. She looked up at the sound. "What is it?"
"There's something I'd like to ask you about." Zhou Qingmu sat down across from her and weighed her words a long while. "How did you and Little Gu… get so naturally close?"
Luo Jinyao's hands paused. She raised her head, puzzled.
"Take just now." Zhou Qingmu lifted her chin toward the back mountain. "You peel fruit for him, wipe his mouth, put a bracelet on his wrist, and it all flows without a single hitch. Watching, I didn't feel you were doing any of it on purpose. It looked more like… simple habit."
Luo Jinyao blinked. "Isn't that perfectly normal?"
"…Normal?"
"He's a junior of my own school, and young besides. What's strange about looking after him a little?" Luo Jinyao tilted her head. "Don't tell me you've never looked after a junior of your own."
Zhou Qingmu started to answer, and stopped.
Had she ever looked after juniors of her own? Which ones? Those subordinates at the Night-Watch Bureau? That pack of big, coarse men — look after them, like hell. If a thing could be handled with a blade, she never wasted words on it.
"…Never."
"Well, that explains it." Luo Jinyao sheathed her sword, her tone that of someone who had just worked something out. "There's nothing difficult about it. Just treat him like your own child."
Her own child? Zhou Qingmu needed a moment to digest the phrase.
Coming out of Luo Jinyao's room, she stood under the eaves a while, letting the night wind blow across her face.
She tried to call up memories of being looked after as a girl, but the impressions were sparse — only the heavy wooden saber in her master's hand, and the medicated plasters slapped on any old way after a beating.
— Clearly not experience she could copy over wholesale.
So she tried another approach and considered the women she'd seen on the streets with their children: handing over a snack, wiping a mouth, straightening a sleeve, fussing about warmth and cold… it didn't sound complicated.
"Nothing to it," Zhou Qingmu pronounced privately, and turned back into her room.
The lamp was still lit. She dug an empty food box out of her luggage, then sat at the table and stared at it for a good long while — she genuinely couldn't decide which step to rehearse first.
Never mind. Start with the simplest one: handing over a snack.
She made up her mind, planning to try it first thing in the morning.
As for the subject of the trial — naturally, a certain wholly unsuspecting "own child" who had just broken through to the Fourth Realm.
The next morning.
Gu Chengming had just finished running through a sword set on the back mountain when he saw Zhou Qingmu coming toward him with a food box in hand.
Something in him lurched. She stopped in front of him, her expression less than natural, and forced out stiffly, "Have you eaten?"
"I have."
"Eat more."
Zhou Qingmu lifted the lid. Inside, several dishes of delicate pastries were laid out in neat rows.
She picked one up and held it to his lips. Gu Chengming stared at the pastry, unsure for a moment whether he was meant to take it or dodge.
He braced himself, opened his mouth, and bit down on it.
Her fingers hovered at his lips for a beat, then whipped back as if scalded.
"Is it good?" she asked.
"G-good."
"Oh."
She picked up another, meaning to change her posture this time — to pass it over as naturally as Luo Jinyao had.
But halfway through raising her arm she lost all sense of how far the elbow should bend or how loosely the fingers should hold, and the whole of her jammed there. Watching her, Gu Chengming felt a pang of something close to pity.
"Let me," he said, reaching over to take the pastry and swallowing it in two or three bites.
Zhou Qingmu looked hugely relieved.
Standing not far off, Luo Jinyao watched the scene, a faint smile surfacing in her eyes.
Unfortunately, she wouldn't be smiling for long.
— Because Zhou Qingmu learned far too fast…
It wasn't until the second day, watching Gu Chengming lie rather stiffly across Zhou Qingmu's lap for an afternoon nap, that the realization landed on Luo Jinyao.
Her position as mother appeared to be getting stolen out from under her.
…
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