Chapter Thirty-Two: A Great Misunderstanding

  The setting sun is like blood, shining on a small brick wall. The brick wall is mottled and worn, the side facing inward is covered with vines, the green leaves are blown by the wind, rising and falling in waves, occasionally a few curly tendrils fluttering, as if a slender hand is stretching out from a green sleeve.

  The girl sitting under the eaves didn't have the energy to spare a single thought on the wisteria, at most using her pinky to hook back a few strands of hair that had been blown awry by the wind behind her ear. Her bright eyes were fixed intently on the small, worn-out stove in front of her, while her other hand held a tattered feather fan and gently swayed it back and forth. Inside the circular sand pot with a damaged edge on the stove, there was a continuous gurgling sound, and wisps of medicinal fragrance wafted out from the small round mouth of the pot, soon filling the entire small courtyard.

  Suddenly, a low cough was heard from inside the house, and a man's voice came through the window: "Cough... Yuer, Yuer..."

  The girl hastily put down the fan and stood up, lightly shaking her blue skirt. "Father, what's the matter?" she replied, taking a few steps into the house.

  After a while, white mist rose from the medicine pot under the eaves, and the fragrance of the medicine became even more intense. The girl seemed to have finished handling the affairs inside the house, and she came out again with quick steps, holding a coarse ceramic bowl.

  She filtered the medicine and poured it into her father's usual bowl, just as she put the pot back on the stove, she heard three rhythmic knocks coming from outside the courtyard gate.

  Since the old father fell seriously ill, the family became even more destitute, and relatives and friends rarely came to visit. The world is as cold as frost, this girl has long been used to it, but at this time, a rare ripple appeared on her face, she looked up at the sunset in the sky, it's already this late, who else would come knocking on the door?

  Xuan Zhen stood outside the old wooden gate, searched for half a day but couldn't find the door knocker, so he had to knock with his fingers. He listened carefully and there was no sound in the courtyard, but the faint scent of medicine wafted over the brick wall and into his nose, it seemed that the villagers they met along the way hadn't misled them, and the elegant young girl indeed lived here.

  Just as he was thinking, a creaking sound came from the wooden door, which opened slightly. A pair of bright eyes were peering out from behind the door, and when they saw Xuan Zhen, the girl paused for a moment, seemingly still remembering him. She then pushed the door open a bit wider and said: "You... you are..."

  "My name is Xuán Zhèn, I am a disciple of the Qióng Huá sect of Mount Kūn Lún." Xuán Zhèn said with a solemn bow.

  The girl was taken aback again, thinking that she was in a remote village in the south, and Kunlun Mountain might have been heard of, but Qionghua Sect had never been heard of. However, she still tidied up her skirt, slightly bowed: "Xuan Zhen... young master, I am just a poor girl, my life is not worth mentioning, so I won't say it. You... do you have anything to ask?"

  Xuan Zhen smiled slightly and replied, "Miss, I suppose you haven't heard of the name Qiong Hua Sect? I don't want to boast about it either. But I've heard that your father has contracted a coughing up blood syndrome, which is extremely difficult to cure even for the best doctors in the world. Even that old man from just now... his medicine can only delay the onset of the symptoms, but as for completely curing it, it's absolutely impossible."

  The girl originally had a hint of doubt and vigilance in her eyes, but after hearing this, those expressions all turned into surprise and anxiety. The hesitant look only flashed across that jade-like face for an instant before she heard herself say very decisively: "Young master, please come in and speak." As she spoke, she retreated towards the inner door, yielding the way.

  Xuan Zhen spent some effort and, taking advantage of the girl's filial piety, was able to slightly dispel her worries. As he entered the house and looked around, he secretly sighed, indeed it was a poor household, with only two rooms in the house. Along the way, every household had phoenix trees in their courtyards, but this small courtyard had nothing except ivy and moss.

  His gaze was like lightning, scanning from the green moss in the corner of the wall to the muddy stove under the eaves. In an instant, he caught sight of the bowl of dark brown medicine on the windowsill and said, "Miss, if the medicine cools down, its efficacy will be reduced. It's better to let your father take it while it's still hot."

  The girl suddenly remembered the medicine and blushed, hastily running over to pick up the bowl, without even greeting Xuan Zhen. She rushed into the house, her heart racing with urgency, and in her haste, she forgot that there was a young man standing beside her, lifting her skirt without any reserve, revealing a pair of delicate yellow embroidered shoes underneath.

  Xuan Zhen's eyes flickered, and he was taken aback for a moment before looking away, a hint of bitter smile flashing across his face. The disciples of the Taiching True Man were extremely strict, and Xuan Zhen had always been mindful of propriety under his guidance. Just now, he had only stared blankly for a moment, but now his heart was filled with shame, and he thought to himself: "Xuan Zhen, you're a disciple of the Qionghua Sect, and yet when you saw the woman's feet, you forgot even the ancient teachings of 'do not gaze at what is improper'... And you still remember those two green shoes... Could it be that you've really become like the 'Dongtu Zi' mentioned in those strange books collected by your junior brother Xuan Tong?"

  He followed the girl into the outer room, which was very dimly lit, with only a wooden table and several wooden stools, and a wooden bed in the corner of the wall. The family of four had nothing but this, yet despite their poverty, the house was still tidy and clean.

  The room was only separated from the outside by a thin layer of wallboard, so the sounds inside could be heard extremely clearly. Xuan Zhen sat down on the stool, listening intently to the soft and gentle voice of the young girl, as if she was persuading her father to drink more medicine. At this time, the dusk outside was gradually fading, and a dim light filled the window, with the fragrance of medicine wafting through the air, and the clear and pleasant sound of the young girl's voice could be faintly heard at his ear. He closed his eyes, and a sense of serenity arose spontaneously. Since leaving Kunlun Mountain, Xuan Zhen had not felt such peace of mind for the first time, as if... this scene was extremely familiar to him, and he had experienced it thousands of times before.

  But in less than half a cup of tea time, a rustling sound was heard, and the dim light from behind the curtain came out. Xuan Zhen opened his eyes to see that the girl had walked out with an empty bowl in one hand and a bronze candle holder in the other. The candle holder only held a very thin and short white candle, and a bean-sized flame flickered on it. Under the soft light, the face of the girl in white clothes looked even more delicate and lovely.

  Xuan Zhen's gaze was fixed on the girl's face, and he couldn't help but be distracted. The face in front of him was naturally extremely beautiful, but what made it even harder to look away was the cold intent and faint melancholy between her eyebrows, and the eyes that seemed to hold a frost that had been accumulating for years. Yet, behind the frosty color, there seemed to be something more... It was as if he had seen those beautiful eyes filled with a seductive aura many times in his dreams at midnight, familiar to the point of causing a dull ache in his heart, a pain mixed with longing and nostalgia, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember where he had seen them before.

  Perhaps it was the straightforward gaze of Xuān Zhèn that made the girl slightly turn her face, and softly say: "I've kept you waiting for a long time, young master." As she spoke, she walked over and casually placed the bowl on the corner of the table, pinched the hem of her clothes, hesitated for a moment, and then said: "Xuān Zhèn, young master... earlier you said that my father's illness... even Grandfather's medicine can't cure it?"

  Xuan Zhen suddenly came to his senses, hastily lowered his head and looked at the table, thinking that he had actually developed a sense of admiration and closeness towards a girl who was several years younger than himself, which was only suitable for juniors towards their seniors. He couldn't help but feel ashamed, and his face also felt slightly hot. He said: "Uh... your father's illness is hemoptysis, at that time I happened to hear the young lady's words, it seemed to be somewhat serious..."

  "Yuer, who are you talking to?"

  Just then, the girl's father seemed to have heard the noise and raised his voice slightly from inside. The girl was already somewhat uneasy due to Xu Zhen's implied meaning, and now she was startled, her hand holding the candlestick inadvertently tilting, and a few drops of hot wax fell onto her hand, causing her to cry out in pain. Xu Zhen reacted extremely quickly, hastily taking over the candlestick with one hand, while his other hand had already raised two fingers to conjure up a mist of water that gently stroked the girl's scalded red mark on her hand.

  "Jade, Jade?"

  The owner of the sound in the house heard his daughter shouting and became more anxious, calling out repeatedly.

  The young girl excitedly smiled at Xu Zhen and hastily lifted the door curtain, saying inwardly: "Dad, I'm fine." After a pause, she added, "There's a guest in our home, Dad, can you see him?"

  As they spoke, Xuan Zhen had already arrived behind the girl and took a glance inside the house with the candlelight. The inner room was also very cramped, with only one bed and one cabinet. On the bed, a man was half-reclining, his face under the candlelight extremely gaunt and haggard, with white hair at his temples, looking to be over fifty years old. It was hard to imagine that such an old man could have such a lovely daughter.

  The old man of the girl also saw Xuan Zhen at a glance, first stunned, then looked up and down with his eyes, during which he coughed constantly, but his two eyeballs did not move away from Xuan Zhen's body.

  Xuan Zhen looked at his pale and thin appearance, obviously already showing some signs of serious illness, and believed more in what Huo Shou said. However, being stared at by this uncle made him feel very uneasy, and he didn't know how to open his mouth. Instead, it was the girl's father who spoke first: "Yuer, have you served tea to our guest?"

  The girl hesitated for a moment and blurted out: "Dad, there's nothing left at home..."

  "Then go and get a bowl of water, how can we let our guest sit idle!" The man said, patting the bed board, "Young fellow, my daughter is a bit clumsy, please be patient. We are a humble household, although our hospitality is not thorough, but there's no reason for the girl to speak alone with the guest, it's just that I'm ill and can't go to the main room to accompany you, so I'll trouble you to come here and sit for a while."

  As they spoke, the girl had brought a stool from outside. Xuān Zhèn repeatedly said "I dare not trouble you" and took the wooden stool over. Before he could sit down, he caught sight of the man staring intently at him and his daughter's conversation, with a smiling face that seemed very pleased, but in his heart, he felt a bit creepy, thinking to himself: This uncle is quite strange.

  When the girl came out of the house, the man still couldn't help but glance at her face repeatedly. After coughing a few times, he suddenly said: "Young fellow, I think you're quite good, um, very good. In recent years, there have been many people like you who come to my door, and I can tell what you mean... um, what's your name?"

  Xuan Zhen stuttered: "My junior name is Xuan Zhen, I...I am a disciple of the Qionghua Sect of Kunlun Mountain."

  The man nodded: "Oh, Xuan Zhen, surname Xuan? This name is a bit strange... Never mind, are you from the nearby mountain? I see that your clothes don't look like those of the southern barbarians."

  Xuan Zhen shook his head and said: "Mount Kunlun is far away in a distant land of millions of miles, it's not here."

  The man furrowed his brow and coughed, saying: "Cough... this is not good! How can my daughter go to such a faraway place? Won't I only see her once a year then?"

  Xuan Zhen was taken aback, he came to this girl's house for two reasons: one was to treat the girl's father, and the other was to persuade her to follow him back to Kunlun Mountain's Qionghua Sect. At this moment, hearing the man's words, he seemed somewhat dissatisfied with this. Before he could think about how he had guessed his purpose, he thought: "That young lady seems to listen to her father very much, if Uncle doesn't allow her to follow me, it won't be good." He decided to comfort him first. Thinking of this, he said: "Uncle, you have a coughing blood disease, Yuer girl is worried day and night, and you are also suffering. Why not go together with me to Kunlun Mountain? Qionghua Sect has many spiritual medicines, which can cure your illness and make Yuer girl smile again, isn't that good?"

  The man thought for a moment, nodded and said: "You're right... But we've been used to living in the south, and my daughter is delicate. If you don't treat her well, what can I say?"

  Xuan Zhen was stunned, and hastily said: "How can this be? Since she has entered my Qionghua Sect, as her senior brother, I will naturally take good care of her. Even if I don't take good care of her, there are still others..."

  "What are you talking about, brother? You've promised to take good care of my daughter, don't go back on your word!" The man chuckled and laughed so hard that he started coughing violently, "Cough...cough...Yuer is a great girl, you...you won't regret it, cough...cough..."

  Xuan Zhen Yue listened more and felt that something was not right, so he didn't continue to speak in accordance with the man's words. Instead, he asked: "Uncle, I have another thing to ask, which is... Miss Yu'er's birth eight characters, can you tell me? I also want to pass on the message back to my master..."

  The man didn't wait for Xuan Zhen to finish, propping himself up on his elbow and laughing: "Good, good, you do know your manners, asking about the elder's intentions. But my daughter's birthday can't be casually told to people, lean in closer and I'll whisper it to you!" He then whispered a few sentences into Xuan Zhen's ear.

  Xuan Zhen listened, pinched his fingers to calculate for a while, and was even more determined in his heart. Although he was not as proficient in the art of fate as Tai Qing True Man, he also vaguely knew that this young lady's birthdate carried extremely strong yin energy. Moreover, with the sudden appearance of white light from the Ling Guang Jade earlier, it was clear that she was the person with extremely strong yin and yang energies that he had been searching for. Thinking about this, he couldn't help but smile slightly, thinking to himself: I should write a letter to my master now.

  However, he was self-satisfied and completely unaware that the old man on the couch next to him, the girl's father, had a growing look of satisfaction in his eyes. It wasn't the gaze of someone looking at their daughter's future senior brother, but rather the gaze of someone looking at their own future son-in-law...

  P.S. A certain school really did things improperly, and when the new semester was about to start, they actually shut down the internet. The place where you pay for internet access didn't even open until today, making people wait in distress... I quickly uploaded a chapter to comfort everyone's anxious hearts.

  PPS. For some reason, writing this chapter makes me feel more and more joyful the further I go... Could it be that a certain author really can't write tragic stories?

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