Chapter 118 Leaf Plays with Forget-Me-Nots

After a few days of sightseeing, the three of them had seen all the sights of Yingzhou and also bought Simmons a new pair of sunglasses.

Although they're not hard to find in modern times, there aren't many places here that make these kinds of little things, and none of them are readily available. After a lot of searching, I finally found a craftsman willing to make one based on the drawings.

“Oh dear,” Simmons said, crossing her legs and arms while they were in the craftsman’s shop, “It’s okay if I don’t wear it.”

Qiao Yanshen casually picked up a long bamboo stick resembling a pointer from the table and tapped her knee lightly. "Have you forgotten that a child was frightened and cried when you were walking on the street the other day?"

"Are you my mother? Why are you telling me how to sit?" Simmons obediently put her legs down. "I was just asking her if she wanted some candy."

The martial arts world is a good place; it can smooth out even the most rigid people. However, her eyes, which her master had warned her about many years ago when she first entered the martial arts world, were too sharp and unsettling. So she had been given sunglasses to cover them up. She didn't expect that it would still be like this today. She still had to keep a smile on her face and remember not to stare at others for too long.

She had almost forgotten everything else her teacher's wife had said, mostly things like "karma" and "reincarnation," which basically meant that she didn't need to cultivate herself to see demons and ghosts or see through formations.

So it was quite useful for swindling money when I was young. If I saw any evil spirits in a house, I could use my acting skills to act crazy and warn the homeowner so that she would be scared and move away to avoid being harmed by the evil spirits.

How wonderful!

"If you want me to be, then I am." The young man smiled and put down the bamboo stick. "What if I don't care and see you commit suicide again someday? Don't give me the Buddhist beads anymore; I can't bear the relics on them. —Come on, call me 'Mother'."

Simmons rubbed his temples and said helplessly, "You've been corrupted by Fellow Daoist Shen."

However, she could tell that Qiao Yanshen was bothered by what Shen Yuan had done back then. Young people's emotions are never as openly expressed as Shen Lixia's, especially this kind of concern and fear that is almost resentful; it can only be gleaned from these few words.

"Is it alright?" Qiao Yanshen said dismissively.

“Thirty years? Dead.” Simmons mimicked her previous mannerisms, deliberately speaking in a high-pitched voice, then tried to recall what was written in the storybook as “cold and aloof as snow” and “with indifferent eyes” to strike a pose. However, she clearly couldn’t imitate it; when she frowned and pursed her lips, she appeared extremely bitter and resentful, even somewhat fierce.

Qiao Yanshen looked at it carefully for a long time and commented, "It looks like someone owes him 300,000."

"Lick your lips and see if you've poisoned yourself," Simmons said irritably. "Why can't it be someone who owes me 300,000, because I don't have that money?"

"Mm." Qiao Yanshen nodded.

Simmons was speechless with emotion. Just then, Shen Lixia pushed open the door and came in, carrying a package of pastries, ending their conversation.

Time flies like water. Chen Lixia has learned to remember things better. In just a few days, she took many photos of sleeping, eating, and enjoying the scenery. The jade pendant jingled loudly, making Simmons worry that it would die within a year.

It wasn't until she returned to the Taihui Heavenly Ladder that Shen Lixia remembered something—there was a barrier.

Simmons wasn't a disciple of the sect and therefore couldn't enter. The three of them stood at the bottom of the heavenly ladder for a long time before Shen Lixia finally spoke, asking Simmons, "Have you considered joining the sect?"

"No," Simmons replied decisively. "I neither cultivate the Dao nor do I want to work. Can your sect accept a disciple who just loafs around and waits to die?"

As expected, I knew the answer the moment I asked the question.

Qiao Yanshen said, "Then let's go and talk to our master. She wrote to us earlier, asking us to go to Frostblade Peak after we return to the sect."

Then, she turned to Simmons: "You might have to wait here for a while..."

“Okay,” Simmons nodded. “However, they probably won’t take in someone who just wants to freeload. You might as well tell your master something; it might be more likely to persuade him.”

“I think so too. Since you come from Buddhism, perhaps you know some precious knowledge and mental techniques?” Qiao Yanshen looked at her uncertainly—according to her impression, the colors of her clothes were the opposite of the usual colors for Buddhist disciples. If she was to be considered a Buddhist disciple, then she could only be a traitor.

I wonder what the teachers' wives think about this.

Simmons pondered for a moment, "Just tell her that I know a little about Garan."

-

Returning to Frostblade Peak, the scene was still one of howling wind and snow. The endless, boundless snow fell like goose feathers, washing away the breath of autumn, and a blanket of white filled the eyes.

They were only gone for a month, but when the snowflakes fell, it felt as if something deep inside them had been touched, as if several years had passed.

I no longer feel the cold. Now that I'm here at Frostblade Peak, thinking of the people on the peak brings me immense peace. There are some things and points of doubt I'd like to discuss with my master.

They quickly entered the hall, where the familiar aroma of yak butter tea wafted through the air. Two people sat at a long table; they were Yan Xueya and Si Changxi.

This scene overlapped with the scene of their first visit to Frostblade Peak. Qiao Yanshen habitually snuggled up to Yan Xueya, while Shen Lixia thought for a moment, then lifted her robes and sat down next to Yan Xueya as well. They stood one after the other, like chicks embracing a female eagle, huddling close to Yan Xueya, only reaching her shoulder height, tightly surrounding the woman.

"You've taken on two good disciples," Si Changxi teased upon seeing this. "But you don't see how clingy the other disciples are to their master."

Even Xie Chunan, whom she often mentored, was very tactful and never mentioned serving under her, nor did he overstep his bounds. Ruan Luoying was an exception, while Chi Yueying was equally polite.

The remaining one is a complicated matter—as long as she doesn't lead Wu Zhuyue astray, a sense of distance is actually a good thing.

Yan Xueya smiled slightly, "After all, you're still young. Are you missing me?"

She pushed the butter tea in front of them, her expression softening. The young people were always very frank; after she asked the question, they nodded and answered in unison, "We missed our Master."

Si Changxi rested her chin on her hand and looked at them, teasingly saying, "I've come at an inopportune time. Why don't you catch up first?"

Since the war a century ago, she had rarely seen Yan Xueya so happy. Rather, before that, Yan Xueya was an almost aloof person, like a piece of hard and clear ice, who would feel uncomfortable if there were any warmth in her.

It seems that anything can change. Her fingertips traced the inside of her palm; the original cut had long since healed, leaving only faint marks as she deliberately made them.

Qiao Yanshen said, "Master Changyi always speaks with such humor, how could it be unfortunate? The matter I'm about to discuss already requires asking you, so there's no need to trouble the messenger."

She reverted to her usual tactful manner. Listening to her, Shen Lixia suddenly felt that her senior sister, with whom she used to play, was more genuine. Although she could suddenly say something that was both insightful and exhilarating, she was more natural than her current aloofness.

"Hmm, what is it?" Si Changxi seemed a little excited, pushing his teacup forward. "Come, come, I want to know everything from astronomy to geography, down to the secrets of the Xihe Palace Master, the Eight Trigrams, and the Elders of the Wuji Sword Sect. What do you want to know?"

Yan Xueya deliberately lowered her voice and said to the two of them, "Your Aunt Changyi has been dealing with documents every day lately, and her brain must be all over the place. Please forgive her."

Qiao Yanshen smiled and briefly recounted the events of Xiaoshang Village to the two, omitting the parts related to her secret. When she got to Cang and the others, she pondered for a moment, but ultimately told the truth.

“I didn’t kill them, I let them go…” she sighed, “because these two are very strange, unlike ordinary demons.”

She noticed that Yan Xueya's brows were furrowed, clearly dissatisfied with her choice. Just as she was about to speak, Si Changxi spoke first: "I have heard a rumor that there are ancient and modern demons, and not all of them are without feelings."

She winked at Yan Xueya, who swallowed what he was about to say and raised his hand to rub his temples.

Si Changxi continued, "Young friend, you mentioned Luochuan earlier. These demons are said to have originated in Luochuan, rather than the 'evil intentions' we now refer to. However, it is just a rumor after all. I only hope that they will not cause any more trouble to the human world in the future."

“Hmm…then I have another question for you, Master Aunt,” Qiao Yanshen pondered for a moment, “Ordinary cultivators should already be different from ordinary people, and their sea of ​​consciousness should be extremely powerful, so how could they lose their memories?”

She always felt that the two people's amnesia was very strange, and that Luo Chuan's past had also sunk into history, with only a little remnant leaking out from the cracks in time.

“I don’t know about that,” Si Changxi answered honestly. “However, there is a rumor about this—I’m sorry, the impact of the interruption of civilization in the ancient era is too great. Even the official history is very fragmented now and is regarded as mythology. So there are only these rumors that are of unknown veracity.”

Qiao Yanshen nodded. "Please go ahead."

"Roughly back when the two realms were not yet separated, a punishment was passed down from the Enforcement Division of the Divine Realm—immortals who committed grave crimes had souls that were difficult to destroy, and other punishments were too lenient, so the gods devised this punishment, which is to destroy the person's past memories, strip away their emotions, and separate their soul. The first two erase their personality, and the last one prevents them from reincarnating for eternity, forever suffering the pain of their soul being separated, which is very cruel."

Her voice gradually softened.

"One soul and one spirit; the soul is the living soul, and the spirit is the emotion. If the latter is stripped away, what difference is there between a living person and a dead person? No longer able to feel joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness, having lost all love and hate... one is nothing more than a walking corpse. What meaning is there for such a person to live?"

Either way, it was extremely cruel. Later, humans also learned this method and concocted pills that caused amnesia and idiocy. But these pills were still medicines concocted by humans and did not affect the soul; while the gods in heaven had the most ruthless and cold-blooded methods.

"I see." Qiao Yanshen nodded thoughtfully, then noticed Si Changxi's slightly lowered eyes and changed the subject at the right time.

"The students have a request."

"Speak," Si Changxi said, taking a sip of tea before quickly composed himself.

Shen Lixia continued Qiao Yanshen's words: "We would like to invite a friend to stay in the sect for a long time—please don't say no yet! This person asked us to tell you and Master something: she understands the language of Kalan."

She deliberately omitted "some," intending to lure them into meeting her first. However, the two were surprised to hear the word "Galan," exchanged a glance, and remained silent for a long while.

In just a short while, Shen Lixia's palms became sweaty with nervousness.

Qiao Yanshen gripped her cup tightly. The tea inside trembled slightly. Just as she was feeling a little flustered, she heard the boy's telepathic message in her mind: "Hey, Senior Sister, we seem to be those kids who ask their mothers if they can bring their friends home..."

Her tightly pursed lips lifted slightly, but before she could respond, she heard Si Changxi say, "Alright, I'll go see her."

Shen Lixia breathed a sigh of relief.

She thought that this was all she could do to help. After all, they were disciples, not immortals with authority within the sect; moreover, the kindness of their elders was not a reason for them to act recklessly.

Now it's up to Simmons himself.

However, there is one more thing.

The young man stared at Si Changxi for a long while, then hesitated and said, "Master, I have another question... Do you have any other relatives?"

Si Changxi paused slightly, then quickly replied:

"Never."

Her voice was utterly calm, as if she truly had no family members she cared about in this world. Even Shen Lixia, who was certain of her decision, couldn't help but doubt her earlier assessment.

Perhaps I was just overthinking things.

-

Simmons paced back and forth at the foot of the mountain.

There weren't many people coming and going; some were flying back on their swords, and she only caught a glimpse of them. If all the sect's disciples were as wealthy as the ones she'd seen before, could she perhaps make some money off them?

Thinking of this, she glanced at her mustard seed space and began to consider whether she should set up a stool and have her fortune told...

What does that count for?

Looking up, one's gaze falls upon two young men embracing tightly amidst a sword flying in the sky.

Let's calculate the compatibility of our marriage. I feel like I can earn spirit stones from this.

Just then, a disciple descended from the mountain on a sword and respectfully said to her, "Sect Master invites you to sit down."

Simmons looked up at the towering mountain that seemed to pierce the clouds, and asked blankly, "Where should we sit?"

The boy smiled and handed her a talisman. "Use this."

The talisman was decorated with obscure patterns drawn in cinnabar. Simmons took it and squeezed it in the usual way.

The moment her divine sense probed in, she felt dizzy and disoriented. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a cool, shady space, sitting on a stone bench with a round stone table in front of her.

The water murmured softly, and a delicate fragrance wafted through the air. Simmons looked up and realized that this was a small pavilion on the water. The lake was clear, with abundant aquatic plants, dragonflies skimming the surface, and fish playing, creating a picturesque scene.

A man sat opposite her, his black hair tied up, dressed in a dark green outfit, with thick eyebrows and bright eyes like crystal-clear gems, exuding a dignified and upright aura; a strange golden light in his pupils and the soft contours of his features made him seem like a young man, still possessing a certain unadorned purity.

Like a sword sheathed in its sheath, or a bright moon with just the right amount of light, gentle and warm as water.

It's rare to see someone with such a temperament.

She had heard of the Taihui Sect Master's reputation, such as "the most righteous person in the Nine Regions" and "the Pure Moon Sword Master"... Seeing is believing, and no amount of words could compare to the infectious charm of the person in front of her, which made people feel relaxed and at ease.

"Fellow Daoist," Si Changxi smiled gently at her, "I heard you can speak the language of Kalman?"

Simmons nodded. "I know a little bit."

Si Changxi looked at her, lowered her eyes slightly, and spoke some strange words. Simmons listened attentively, and then spoke as well, clearly and slowly in the same tone as her, in a foreign language.

They exchanged a few words in this language. Simmons spoke softly and slowly, her naturally gentle tone making it sound like a lover whispering in her ear—it was extremely pleasant to hear.

"Then you must also be able to read Garan's script." After ending the conversation, Si Changxi's eyes showed a hint of appreciation.

"nature."

"What do you want?" Si Changxi asked with a smile. "These days, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that there are only the two of us in the Central Plains who understand the language of Garan. But I only know a few words... But you probably want more than that, don't you?"

Simmons didn't answer her question, but slowly extended his finger: "First, grant me guest status so I can stay in the sect; second, a monthly salary—you can decide how much is appropriate; third..."

Si Changxi raised an eyebrow, "Fellow Daoist is being a bit too greedy."

“You also said that among those in the Central Plains who understand the language of Kalan, there are probably only the two of us. You should know what kind of madmen the Kalan followers in the snowy region are.” Simmons smiled. “They never step out of the snowy region and never spread their civilization outside... Those who are expelled will be cursed and unable to speak about the internal affairs of the Kalan religion.”

Otherwise, the curse will cause immediate death. The person will fall into delirium, skinning and dismembering themselves, dying a mangled death, or self-immolating, drowning, or even stepping into boiling oil…

Of all the cruel tortures in the Central Plains, none can compare to the cruelty of Garan.

Even now, when she mentions it, she feels a faint chill run down her spine.

“If I don’t set some conditions, it won’t show my sincerity… If it’s too cheap, it will only make people suspicious, right?” Simmons said with a smile. “Now you should know that what I said is absolutely true.”

Si Changxi smiled slightly, then suddenly waved his hand, and a stack of leaf-sized playing cards was spread out on the table in his mustard seed space, all face down.

Simmons took a closer look, "Leaf play?"

"You want to play this game with me?" Without asking why Si Changxi changed the subject, she offered a seemingly kind reminder: "I've made quite a few people in the martial arts world lose."

No one has ever beaten her at gambling, so it could be considered her forte.

However, she hasn't gambled for a long time. It's not that she's given up, but she just finds it boring—she'll never lose again, the person who used to make her lose has long since left, and she can't quit even if she's addicted, so naturally she's stopped playing.

The person before me is a cultivator from a sect, whose cultivation level is unfathomable. Would he really be so engrossed in these pastimes?

But Si Changxi seemed to have anticipated this, and laughed, "So we won't play the usual way."

"So how do we play?"

"The rules are simple. There are five types of printed cards: peach, apricot, red bean, plum, and orchid. Each of them is further divided into red and black. I prefer black orchid and dislike red apricot. So if you can flip over a black orchid, I will grant you all your requests. If you flip over a red apricot, then I must apologize in advance—I cannot fulfill any of your requests and you will have to pay a price."

She lined up the cards and made a "please" gesture.

"If you can find Black Orchid after Red Apricot, then Black Orchid will be the one to be chosen."

Simmons didn't need time to consider things as she had thought; instead, she reached out and started flipping through the sheets one by one.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, a smile still playing on her lips. Her comical sunglasses, perched on her nose, wisely didn't slip down even a fraction, further emphasizing her nonchalant composure.

Spades, red plums, black apricots...

Si Changxi drew sixteen cards.

Halfway through the page, a picture of a red apricot suddenly appeared. Simmons only glanced at the print on it and calmly continued flipping through the pages.

Instead, Si Changxi asked with a smile, "Fellow Daoist, have you unearthed some illicit affair? Aren't you afraid that I might, on a whim, imprison you here for life?"

Simmons said, "Black Orchid will be here soon too."

She remained calm as she flipped through the pages until the second to last one, without breaking a sweat. After looking at the print, she placed her fingertip on the last page.

Throughout the entire process, the hand that flipped the cards was steady and fast, as if it were only a blink of an eye before the end was reached.

“Increase the stake,” Si Changxi said with amusement, “100,000 spirit stones.”

She had seen countless gamblers and had naturally played this game herself a few times. Chang Yijian was a man of his word, yet no one had ever actually won the game. The reason was simple: a promise is precious, and the price to pay is naturally high.

Some lost, while others couldn't bear the pressure halfway through, sweating profusely, and couldn't bring themselves to continue.

In her youth, there were scoundrels in the cultivation world who dared to defy her capture, and she dealt with them in kind. Since fate has been too unkind to her, she might as well take control of her own life and enjoy the feeling of "my fate is in my own hands, not in the heavens."

Unfortunately, the outcome is always the same. Those who draw their swords halfway through and attempt a sneak attack naturally lose their chance.

100,000 spirit stones.

This sentence did give Xi Mengsi a slight thrill. Ten thousand spirit stones—at this moment, she didn't care about the leaf trick anymore; she had a sudden urge to hug Si Changxi's leg, cry, and call out "Mother!"

Forget it, the Immortal Venerable is probably old enough to be her great-grandmother. And that's not all.

She turned over the last card, suddenly smiled brightly, and presented it to Si Changxi.

—The pattern on it is a jet-black orchid.

Si Changxi was not angry at losing. Instead, he clapped his hands happily and said cheerfully, "Good, good, fellow Daoist, you have a good heart! Tell me your request!"

She arranged the cards and stored them in her mustard seed space.

"Even if it's just library access, I can open it for you."

"No, I do not cultivate Taoism," Simmons said. "However, any one of the cultivation techniques in the pavilion could fetch an astronomical price."

Si Changxi narrowed his eyes, golden light flashing within them, instantly revealing a chilling aura. His tone suddenly changed, like a snake's tail tightening: "Fellow Daoist, you may give it a try."

Simmons chuckled. "I'm not interested."

She placed her arm on the stone table and unwrapped the thin cloth binding it. As the white cloth fell away, a bright red mark was revealed on the inside of her elbow.

These are the stitch marks left by the needle.

The lines appear tough and elastic, and upon closer inspection, one can observe delicate patterns on them. At this moment, they seem to have drunk their fill of blood, displaying a beautiful crimson hue.

The person who performed the acupuncture must have been very meticulous, because the suturing was extremely delicate, with each stitch deeply embedded in the flesh and tightly adhering to the skin.

Like a parasitic worm infesting its mother, it takes root firmly in the abundant flesh and blood, clinging to her even in death.

Si Changxi frowned and scrutinized for a long time until Simmons spoke:

"I think you might know how to remove the stitches."

She held onto hope, a rare glimmer of light appearing in her eyes.

But the young man shook his head and said, "This is... the sinew of a dragon descendant. It has become one with you, and I'm afraid it can never be separated again."

In ancient times, people slew dragons, dismembering and breaking their bones. This was because every part of a dragon was a treasure: its bones could be used to make tools, its tendons to be used in medicine, and its scales possessed divine power…

As she thought about these things, her body suddenly trembled slightly.

After that, the dragons disappeared, but the dragon descendants, along with other beings that existed between the demon race and the human race, were called the Garan people.

However, the Kalan religion in the snowy region does not recognize this distinction. They believe that they alone are the purest and most blessed people, and thus they separated into their own branch, calling themselves the Sajer people. Kalan became the name of their religion.

The Dragonborn have not appeared for a long time.

If a dragonborn in the Garan territory—

She would certainly be revered as a saint.

"I don't know much about the secret arts of the Garan sect..." Si Changxi said in a low voice, "I only know that they have always been called evil arts. Their cultivation does not rely on spiritual energy, but rather their own flesh and bones are the carriers, and each one carries a mysterious Dao fruit."

She reached out and touched the bright red veins, trying to gently manipulate them. She saw Simmons' face suddenly turn as pale as paper, and she let out a painful groan, as if she had been stabbed in the heart.

"Dragonborn are born with a destiny as long as the heavens... Did she sew this for you herself?"

"Yes." Simmons was drenched in cold sweat, managing to squeeze out a single word. She had never imagined that moving the thread would cause her such pain.

It was as if that person was still beside her, smiling gently and telling her that no one could separate her from him.

Si Changxi shook his head and said, "This is something that ordinary people dream of. Although it's strange, there's nothing wrong with you accepting it..."

A sticky, fleshy texture filled my mouth, and my throat was filled with a metallic sweetness. Bone powder seeped into the wound, mending the necrotic flesh.

When she kissed him, she sent all the blood from his bitten lips through the tip of her tongue.

Then, she was tricked into eating her own flesh and blood.

Eventually, even the tendons became embedded in the skin and flesh.

Flesh and bones bear all the fruits of the Dao, and the living soul also resides within them.

"She is sharing her immortality with you."

Simmons opened her mouth but said nothing, suppressing a slight feeling of nausea, and closed her eyes.

"That's settled then. Since the stitches can't be removed, I have no other needs. Could you please arrange a room for me, preferably close to Chen Lixia and the others..."

Si Changxi agreed. Simmons wrapped the cloth around his neck, took a talisman, and went to the bamboo grove courtyard.

The young man was left alone in the pavilion, his gaze fixed on the clear lake surface, quietly watching the fish swim by.

After a long while, she sighed softly.

"Immortality...isn't it a curse?"

If she weren't immortal, she could forget everything, forget her elder sister, and stop thinking about her. Then she wouldn't be unable to sleep every night.

-----------------------

Author's Note: That concludes the storyline for Xi's side. A little world-building has been explained.

I laughed because I forgot to delete the outline... My head is still foggy (laughs)