The Dragon

As the wind swept through the hall, pages of books fluttered like delicate wings. Zhong Michu found herself sitting against a bookshelf, enveloped in the familiar dance of scents – the crisp, biting cold of winter mingling with the fresh snow carried by the breeze. It was an aroma that she knew well, one that had been a constant companion on every winter’s day.

The fragrance of spring flowers, the scent of the hot summer sun, the crisp aroma of autumn smoke, and the smell of winter snow – these cyclical scents always stirred memories of their respective seasons.

Her memories were like a vast plain: monotonous with very few standout moments. After meeting Gu Fuyou, her memories became like mountains, filled with bright colors, starkly contrasting the pale landscape of her past.

So much so that Gu Fuyou’s words were deeply etched in her mind, unshakable. “Listen to me, you and I are different, Zhong Michu. You are the pride of the heavens, born with exceptional talents. You’re destined to achieve great heights in cultivation, to take over the Xuan Miao Sect, to become a legendary female leader. You’ll fulfill Master Ji’s wishes, elevating the sect to new heights. You’ll be revered and admired by many, leaving your mark in history. One day, you’ll ascend to immortality. Your path isn’t here.”

Half a month later, Zhong Michu’s leg injury had healed, and she began to move about outside. Once fully recovered, she, along with Dongli, traveled to Gu Ctiy, intending to rescue Si Miao.

Di Jun verbally showed no mercy, claiming he wouldn’t assist, but deep down, he was concerned for her safety and sent members of the Dragon Clan to help. Rescuing Si Miao was not the challenge; the challenge was that while she lived, her heart seemed dead.

Zhong Michu often stood outside Si Miao’s room, watching as she carefully arranged the corpse of Gu Huaiyou as if he were still alive, placing it on another bed. A sense of inexplicable fear and sadness consumed her.

At first, Dongli thought Zhong Michu was blaming herself. Having watched Zhong Michu grow up—or more accurately, having been assigned by Yunran to monitor her growth—Dongli understood her personality. Perhaps due to the strict discipline of Ji Zhaoling and distant behavior from Yunran, along with high expectations from the elders, whenever something went wrong, Zhong Michu’s first thought was always to blame herself.

Blaming oneself before others. It’s both a virtue and a curse, sometimes making her appear too vulnerable and carrying an excessive burden.

Dongli consoled her, saying, “Gu Huaiyou was accidentally killed by Lu Yandong while you were unconscious. No matter how fast we moved, it would’ve been too late. We did our best.”

Zhong Michu responded softly, “Mhm.”

Dongli glanced at her. Zhong Michu seemed to have regained her spirit, dedicating herself to training and joining Dongli in searching for scattered members of the Xuan Miao Sect. Yet, she still hadn’t reclaimed the sect’s leadership token and had become even more silent. It was as if she was back on Gushen Peak, not venturing out, immersing herself in cultivation without a care for anything else.

Dongli let out a quiet sigh, uncertain of what else to say, and entered the room to check on Si Miao. Si Miao’s injuries weren’t severe, but her tongue had been cut off.

While Si Miao herself was adept in alchemical arts, and Dongli was a healer, coupled with the highly skilled healers of the Dragon Clan and their myriad of pills, her tongue could have been healed. Yet, Si Miao chose not to, perhaps believing she had said all there was to say in her lifetime.

To solidify her cultivation in the Nascent Soul stage, Zhong Michu entered seclusion for half a year. Many things happened during this time.

Many of the Xuan Miao Sect’s disciples had been found. A number of them had joined Ji Xiyan’s faction. However, the majority still recognized the sect leader’s token.

Possessing the token, they intended to reclaim the Xuan Miao Sect openly and justly.

Their sole concern was Ji Xiyan seeking protection from the Xu Ling Sect. Their strength was inadequate to confront Ji Xiyan.

Dongli, holding the leadership token, sought assistance from Di Jun as the leader of the sect.

Di Jun glanced at Zhong Michu, who had recently emerged from her retreat, and this time flatly refused, not lending even a single Dragon. He said to Zhong Michu, “Avenge your own grudges.”

With the matter having reached this point, the people of Xuan Miao Sect, proud and determined, sought no further assistance.

Fortunately, Di Jun lent a piece of blessed land in the Four Seas to the Xuan Miao Sect members. They focused on their cultivation, accumulating every bit of strength they could muster.

The general beside Di Jun laughed lightly, “Your Majesty, your reputation for having an iron will is well-known. The princess has endured such deep humiliation. Surely, even at the cost of annihilating a clan, her honor must be restored. And it’s not just about the Four Continents – this time, both Nanzhou and Dongzhou have openly insulted the Dragon Clan. Our clan has always preferred to die standing than to live on our knees. But now, it appears, Your Majesty, you’re adopting the stance of a benevolent teacher rather than that of a fierce leader?”

Di Jun gave him a warning glance, “Hmm?”

“The Xu Ling Sect will definitely intervene. If the princess is truly bent on revenge, and something happens…” The general smiled, “Is Your Majesty prepared to return to the battlefield, perhaps adding an uncle or an aunt for the Princess?”

Di Jun shot him a sideways glance, “I want her to have a purpose, to diligently cultivate, to show a hint of life, and not to drift through life like a walking corpse.”

Di Jun sighed, “I’ve put in so much effort.”

A year seemed to have passed in a daze after leaving Zhuling Platform.

Dongli, along with the disciples, had temporarily used the land granted by Di Jun as their base. They had slowly started to organize and compared to the initial chaos and disarray when they learned of the upheaval in their sect, they now diligently performed their duties, eagerly awaiting the day they could return to their sect.

One day, Zhong Michu brought along some pills and artifacts to aid the disciples in their cultivation.

Over this period, coordinating with sect members, arranging accommodations, assigning tasks were all handled by Dongli, Liu Guizhen, and the senior members of the sect. Everyone relied on these individuals. As for Zhong Michu giving the token to Dongli, there was no objection. Everyone had already accepted Dongli as the sect leader in their hearts.

This saved Zhong Michu the effort of persuading Dong Li to accept the token.

Zhong Michu, unable to find Dongli, asked a disciple, “Where’s Dongli?”

The disciple replied, “Senior Sister Dongli and Senior Brother Liu are visiting the Elder Master.”

The guardian’s dwelling was a picture of simplicity, resembling nothing more than a humble straw hut enclosed by a fence. This year’s snow had begun to fall again, blanketing the ground up to ankle height. As Zhong Michu made her way up the hill, her eyes caught the unexpected sight of Liu Guizhen and Dongli emerging from the guardian’s hut.

The pair, usually cold and indifferent, were unusually radiant with joy. Liu Guizhen, his face alight with happiness, spontaneously wrapped his arms around Dongli’s waist in a warm embrace.

Dongli blushed slightly, laughing softly, “What are you doing? We’re outside the Elder Master’s room. He might see!”

Liu Guizhen said, “I’m just so happy, Senior Sister, no, Dongli. I never imagined this day would come.”

Before Dongli had a chance to respond, he leaned in, capturing her in a kiss. Initially taken aback, Dongli’s eyes widened in surprise. However, it wasn’t long before she tenderly returned the kiss. As they eventually parted, a warm flush of color adorned their faces. They stood there in silence, exchanging shy smiles and glances, basking in the warmth of the moment they had just shared.

Zhong Michu watched from the bottom of the slope, observing as their bodies leaned into each other and their lips met in a tender embrace. In that moment, it seemed as though they were not just two individuals, but two hearts melding into one, forging a bond that felt as though it could withstand anything, unbreakable even by the vast distances of the earth.

The two, lost in each other, finally noticed someone nearby.

Dongli exclaimed in surprise, “Michu?!” Her tone was flustered. She cast a blaming glance at Liu Guizhen for being so unrestrained in public, her cheeks reddening further.

Liu Guizhen, noticing Zhong Michu, managed to regain his composure, addressing her formally, “Senior Sister Zhong.”

Zhong Michu approached them slowly, “When did you two…”

Dongli replied, “Recently.” She looked bashful in a way Zhong Michu had never seen before.

Zhong Michu came to understand that throughout her time of sorrow, it was Liu Guizhen who had remained by Dongli’s side, offering her unwavering support. It seemed natural, then, that they had grown closer. This budding relationship was a rare glimmer of joy in these gloomy days, a reason for smiles amidst the sadness. Zhong Michu felt she should be happy for Dongli, and perhaps there was a hint of surprise too, at the unexpected depth of their newfound closeness.

But her mind kept returning to their kiss, feeling like something was growing and breaking through in her heart, a feeling she feared would break her heart and cause unbearable pain.

Dong Li, though embarrassed, felt it was a happy occasion and didn’t need to hide it. She openly said, “Guizhen and I met with the Elder Master, and he has given us his blessings. We plan to become Dao companions.”

Becoming Dao companions.

The thought in Zhong Michu’s heart became clearer and clearer, leaving her somewhat dazed, “Will there be a ceremony? Are you having it here or at Penglai Palace?”

Dongli laughed and said, “Guizhen and I don’t really care for such formalities. We just want to have a simple celebration with our fellow disciples, nothing fancy. Michu, will you come?”

Zhong Michu nodded, “Yes.” She handed over a Storage bag to Dongli, her breath uneven, “These are pills and spiritual artifacts. Please distribute them accordingly.”

“I have urgent matters to attend to, I must go back now.”

Zhong Michu turned to leave when Dongli asked, “Michu? You look pale.”

Unaware of her tears flowing, Zhong Michu’s pace was hurried. In her haste, she slipped into the snow and struggled to get up.

Dongli and Liu Guizhen hurried over in alarm. Dongli supported her, asking worriedly, “Michu, what’s wrong?”

Without responding, Zhong Michu’s gaze was lost in the snowy expanse. She yearned to be at Xuji Mountain with Gu Fuyou, wishing to stay there forever, just the two of them She longed for a world where she was always accompanied by her.

Recalling the earlier scene, from her vantage point below the slope, she envisioned herself embracing Gu Fuyou and kissing her.

It was supposed to be like that.

“Michu?”

Zhong Michu clutched her chest, feeling as if it was being twisted by a knife, a pain so intense she couldn’t bear it. She wished she never understood.

Curled up on the ground, a wave of emotions overcame Zhong Michu, and she began to cry, more audibly than she had in a long time. Previously, her tears had been silent companions, but now, the weight of her sadness was too overwhelming to contain. Her cries, short and choked, echoed around her like the mournful howls of a wounded cub, expressing a depth of sorrow that words could never convey.

Dongli placed a hand on her shoulder, unsure of the reason for her distress and feeling powerless to console her.

To Zhong Michu, Dongli had never been someone she could rely on. Dongli still remembered the first time Zhong Michu sought comfort from her. She had told her, “Michu, don’t act spoiled with me. You know I was sent by Yunran Xuanzun to monitor you, not to be your friend.” She was just a tool to shape Zhong Michu’s character.

When Zhong Michu found herself engulfed in despair, Dongli was at a loss for ways to offer comfort. Instead, she could only urge her to stay strong, feeling it was her duty to do so. In those moments, Dongli’s heart was heavy with sadness, not just for Zhong Michu, but for herself as well, as she grappled with the limitations of her role in easing Zhong Michu’s pain.

Fearing Zhong Michu might break down completely, Dongli helped her up and said, “Michu, what’s wrong? Tell me so I can help you.”

Seeing Zhong Michu’s current state, Dongli suddenly thought of her madness and despair at Zhuling Platform a year ago.

Now, there was also a deep hopelessness.

“Dongli, I can’t become an immortal.”

“I can’t become an immortal anymore.”