Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 405 Qingyang Valley

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Wei Shanyue stood by the window, gazing at the few withered leaves trembling in the wind, and remained silent for a long time.

So long that Zhou Da thought he wouldn't answer anymore.

"Send someone." Wei Shanyue finally spoke, his voice not loud, but heavy like a dull knife falling on a chopping board. "Go to Yunyin Mountain."

Zhou Da raised his head.

Wei Shanyue did not turn around.

"It's not about spying, it's about testing the waters," he said. "Prepare a gift and send it to the Yunyin Sect in my name, Wei Shanyue. Tell them that the Western Army has heard that the Yunyin Sect has protected the people of Daqian and expresses their gratitude."

Zhou Da was stunned for a moment, then he understood.

It wasn't about probing, it was about testing the waters.

It was to give that Master Chen a hint, and also to leave a way out for the old lady.

"This old servant will go," Zhou Da said.

Wei Shanyue finally turned around.

He looked at Zhou Da, his gaze falling on the old wound that ran diagonally from his brow bone to his jaw, and on the left ear that had been half-cut off by a barbarian scimitar.

"You just came back from there," he said. "Have you thought about the consequences of going back?"

Zhou Da knelt down on one knee.

"This old servant's life was saved by Commander Wei," he said. "I should have died in the northern frontier sixteen years ago. These extra sixteen years were sixteen years that Madam watched me grow up. This old servant is not afraid of death, but I am afraid that no one will take Madam's place."

Wei Shanyue remained silent.

He stared at Zhou Da for a long time, so long that the few withered leaves outside the window finally couldn't bear it any longer and swirled down.

"Go ahead," he said.

………………

Three days later, at dawn.

Zhou Da stood by the post road outside Tianjing City, with twenty elite cavalrymen of the Western Army behind him.

These people were all handpicked by him from the scout camp.

He's not the best fighter, but the most patient.

Those who served in the Western Army understand that sometimes "enduring" is harder than "fighting." It means enduring the fatigue of long journeys, enduring unknown risks, and enduring being humiliated by immortals without getting angry.

"Zhou Tou," a younger scout behind us couldn't help but ask, "where are we going?"

Zhou Da did not turn around.

"Just follow along."

The scout shrank back and stopped asking questions.

Twenty riders, twenty fine horses from the northern frontier, carried twenty heavy chests. The chests didn't contain any precious treasures, but rather gifts personally inspected by Commander Wei.

Animal hides and medicinal herbs from northern Xinjiang, as well as several jars of strong liquor that have been aged for many years.

"The immortal master may not necessarily care about these things," Wei Shuai said at the time, "but the people around the immortal master will always find them useful."

Zhou Da understood this principle.

He swallowed the last bite of the dry biscuit, then mounted his horse.

"Walk."

The sound of hooves rang out, and twenty riders galloped along the official road in the southeast direction.

…………

Qingyang Valley, outer gate servants' quarters.

Wei Yiran squatted by the well, scrubbing the clothes in the basin. The well water in early winter was already bone-chillingly cold, and her fingers were frozen red, with several small cracks at the joints, which stung painfully when they touched the water.

But her face was expressionless; she just kept her head down and mechanically repeated the scrubbing motions.

"Oh, still washing?"

A strange, sarcastic voice came from behind me.

Wei still didn't turn around.

Footsteps approached, and three people stopped behind her. The one in the lead wore a drab outer disciple's robe, had delicate features, but his eyes held an unsettling, sticky quality. His name was Zheng Yunlong; he had been in the valley for three years and was at the second level of Qi Refining, making him one of the "veterans" in this servants' quarters.

"Junior Sister Wei's hands are all cracked from the cold." Zheng Yunlong squatted down and reached out to hold Wei Yiran's hand. "Senior Brother has a bottle of frostbite cream here, it works quite well, how about..."

Wei Yiran withdrew her hand and continued washing the clothes.

Zheng Yunlong's hand froze in mid-air, and the smile on his face paused for a moment.

The two disciples behind him exchanged a glance, and one of them sneered.

"Senior Brother Zheng, they don't appreciate it."

Zheng Yunlong withdrew his hand, stood up, and his smile remained unchanged, but his eyes turned colder.

"Junior Sister Wei, with your temperament, you won't have an easy time in the valley," he said. "There are over a thousand outer disciples, but only three to five make it into the inner sect each year. The rest either live to old age or..."

He paused, his gaze sliding from Wei Yiran's lowered profile to the wrist peeking out from her sleeve. The wrist was slender and fair, its contrasting red, frostbitten knuckles particularly striking.

"Or, find someone to back you up."

Wei Yiran finally raised her head.

She looked at Zheng Yunlong, her gaze as calm as a stagnant pool.

"Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother Zheng," she said. "After washing the clothes, I still need to chop firewood."

She stood up, picked up the wooden basin, walked past the three people, and headed towards the clothes-drying area.

Zheng Yunlong stood there, watching the slender figure disappear around the corner, the gloom in his eyes growing heavier.

"Senior Brother Zheng," a disciple behind him whispered, "this Wei fellow is too ungrateful. He's a good-for-nothing with no brains. If it weren't for the name of the General's Mansion, he should have been sent to the mines to do hard labor long ago."

"Exactly," another disciple chimed in, "She's really pretty, no less so than those female cultivators from the Joyful Union Sect. It's her good fortune that Senior Brother Zheng has taken a liking to her, and she's even putting on airs?"

Zheng Yunlong remained silent.

He just stared at that corner, his thumb slowly...

Wei Yiran draped the last piece of clothing over the bamboo pole, rubbed her frozen fingers, and looked up at the sky.

Dusk was falling, and the last rays of the sunset were fading, revealing a deep gray-blue sky below.

She stood there for a while, then suddenly remembered that morning a year ago when she stood at the foot of the Qingyang Valley gate, looking up at the three characters carved into the stone beam.

At that time, she wondered, what is spiritual practice?

Now she knows.

Cultivation involves waking up at 3 AM every day to clean up the spirit beasts' droppings. Cultivation also involves washing clothes at the well at 7 AM, and not being allowed to eat until all the clothes are washed. Cultivation involves chopping wood in the woodshed at 3 PM, and not being allowed to sleep until all the wood has been chopped. Cultivation also means being constantly ordered around by senior brothers and sisters in the Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment stages, and being scolded for the slightest mistake.

Cultivation involves kneeling.

Wei Yiran withdrew her gaze and turned to walk back.

The servants' quarters' mess hall was at the foot of the back mountain, a drafty wooden shed with a few crooked tables and chairs. The food was a thin, watery porridge of wild vegetables, served with two dark-colored steamed buns, one serving per person, and once it was gone, that was it.

When Wei Yiran arrived, the wooden shed was already full of people. They were all "dumb" laborers like her, pale and thin, with sunken eyes, heads down, shoveling porridge into their mouths, not looking at each other.

She picked up her bowl and found a place to sit in the corner.

The porridge had gone cold, and the wild vegetables were overcooked and had a slightly bitter taste. She broke the steamed bun into small pieces, soaked them in the porridge, and ate them one small bite at a time.

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