Mo Zhu sat in the corner of the courtyard, expressionlessly adding firewood to the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Yu Zhiling. Ever since the four sweet potatoes had been thrown into the flames, she hadn’t looked away, staring intently at the fire as if she wanted to dive right in.
"Mo Zhu, those two over there are about to burn," Yu Zhiling suddenly said, giving him a push.
Caught off guard, Mo Zhu nearly toppled over. Steadying himself, he looked to where she pointed—two sweet potatoes at the edge of the fire were being scorched by the flames. He used a wooden stick to flip them over.
Once the moment passed, he suddenly felt like an idiot.
An hour ago, he had been about to leave when Yu Zhiling grabbed his arm.
"Mo Zhu, don’t go."
In that instant, he met her red-rimmed eyes, his throat tightening. Mo Zhu had never seen her cry before, and the sight stunned him enough that he didn’t immediately shake her off.
Then, he watched as his esteemed shizun wiped her tears, pouted, and—still sniffling—mumbled in a pitiful voice, "I—I’m hungry. Can you make me something to eat?"
And so, with a blank expression, he went to the back mountain to chop firewood, carried it back, washed the sweet potatoes, and now sat here roasting them for her.
Yu Zhiling had pulled up a small stool beside him, resting her chin on her arms, occasionally rubbing her eyes.
Mo Zhu didn’t know why she was crying, nor did he intend to ask. He didn’t want to engage with her more than necessary, silently playing the role of an unskilled cook.
When the first sweet potato was done, he fished it out, blew off the ash, and handed it to her without turning his head.
"Shizun, it’s ready."
Yu Zhiling took it, wrapping it in oiled paper before asking in a nasally voice, "Then… I’ll eat first?"
Mo Zhu replied flatly, "Go ahead, Shizun. I’m not hungry."
Yu Zhiling didn’t stand on ceremony. She peeled the skin and took small, careful bites.
She stole a glance at him. Mo Zhu sat rigidly upright, his back straight, his high ponytail swaying slightly. His profile was sharp and handsome, the warm glow of the fire softening his edges, making him seem almost gentle.
Deep down, she knew—just because Mo Zhu was obedient now didn’t mean he had forgiven Immortal Lord Zhuoyu.
Clearing her name was an uphill battle. Today, she had been scolded, and though she knew it wasn’t her fault—that it was the original owner’s actions—she couldn’t just brush it off.
It still…
Hurt.
Especially when she saw the disappointment in Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue’s eyes. Her heart ached, and she wanted to rush forward and apologize, to beg them not to be sad because of her.
Even though she had only known them for a few days…
Tears welled up again as she nibbled on the sweet potato, hastily wiping them away.
Mo Zhu noticed her distress and finally couldn’t hold back.
"Why are you crying?"
Yu Zhiling lifted her teary eyes. "I—I’m not crying. It’s just the smoke from the fire…"
Mo Zhu stared at her. "This disciple isn’t blind."
"I’m not crying! Don’t slander your shizun, wuwu…"
Yu Zhiling made to wipe her face with her sleeve, but before she could, Mo Zhu grabbed her wrist.
His patience worn thin, a vein pulsed at his temple. He took a deep breath, then pulled out a clean silk handkerchief and handed it to her.
"Use this."
Yu Zhiling accepted it, dabbing at her eyes. The faint scent of sandalwood clung to the fabric—the same fragrance that always lingered around her little disciple.
"Mo Zhu…"
His brow furrowed slightly. "Speak, Shizun."
He expected her to pour out her grievances between sobs, but instead, she sniffled and asked, "Wh-what kind of incense do you use? How are you even more fragrant than me? That’s not fair…"
Mo Zhu: "…………"
The fact that he was here roasting sweet potatoes for her made him the biggest fool of all.
Mo Zhu used the stick to fish out the remaining three sweet potatoes and stood to leave. "Shizun, it’s late. This disciple will take his leave."
Yu Zhiling grabbed his sleeve again. "Stay and talk with me a little. I feel awful."
He remained standing while she sat on the low stool, looking up at him with bright, clear eyes.
Mo Zhu hesitated for only a moment before she tugged him back down beside her.
Yu Zhiling handed him a sweet potato. "Eat too."
She probably didn’t realize it, but there was always a faintly coquettish lilt to her voice—whether she was speaking to Yan Shanqing, Xiang Wuxue, or him. It was the unconscious dependency and closeness of a young girl.
Had Yu Zhiling’s mind regressed to that of a youth after losing her memories?
Mo Zhu didn’t understand, but before he could dwell on it, Yu Zhiling had already shoved the sweet potato into his hands. The scene was eerily similar to last night, when he had also eaten an unbearably sweet potato in her courtyard.
Mo Zhu held the sweet potato in silence while Yu Zhiling continued eating hers.
In a small voice, she said, "I… I was scolded by shixiong today."
Mo Zhu knew she was explaining herself to him. He sat quietly, peeling the sweet potato without a word—his way of telling her he was listening.
Yu Zhiling wiped her tears again. "They found out about… about the terrible things I did to you before…"
Mo Zhu paused but still didn’t respond, though his eyes flicked to her.
Yu Zhiling didn’t dare meet his gaze, focusing on her sweet potato instead. "They were furious, and I know I was wrong… Mo Zhu, I’m sorry."
She had apologized before. Mo Zhu didn’t understand how losing one’s memories could also change their nature.
But did forgetting mean the past never happened?
"Mo Zhu."
Her voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Mo Zhu was on the verge of losing his temper when she spoke again.
"The others in Yingshan Sect aren’t me. They’re good people. Shixiong scolded me because of what happened to you, but they also found news about the Immortal Wood Sprout. I’ll find a way to break your curse. We’ll set out in a few days."
Finally gathering her courage, Yu Zhiling looked at Mo Zhu and said what she truly wanted to say:
"No matter what I’ve done wrong, I told you—you can take revenge on me. But Yingshan Sect is innocent."
So why, in the original story’s ending, had he slaughtered the entire sect?
Yan Shanqing, Xiang Wuxue… her shixiong and shijie, the whole of Yingshan Sect—none of them deserved it.
Their eyes met. Mo Zhu’s grip tightened unconsciously, nearly crushing the sweet potato in his hand. He saw the caution in her gaze, the wariness, and an inexplicable fear.
What was she afraid of?
That he would harm Yingshan Sect?
She still didn’t understand him. He hated Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, but he bore no grudge against Yingshan Sect. Why would he attack Yan Shanqing and the others? He had no quarrel with them.
Mo Zhu turned away with a long exhale, unable to name the frustration coiling in his chest. Was it because of her misunderstanding?
"Mo Zhu…" Yu Zhiling tentatively reached out, her hand resting on his arm. "The Immortal Wood Sprout has really been found. It’s with the Zhongli Family."
Mo Zhu didn’t look at her, scoffing coldly. "And how does Shizun plan to obtain it? Don’t you know Yingshan Sect and the Zhongli Family are sworn enemies?"
Yu Zhiling fell silent.
Of course she knew. The original novel had mentioned Yingshan Sect’s background and its feud with the Zhongli Family.
But she answered firmly, "I know. But Mo Zhu, believe me—your shizun will get the Immortal Wood Sprout."
Mo Zhu felt the warmth of her palm through his sleeve, as if it burned even through the fabric.
The young man suddenly stood up, leaving one standing and the other seated as he looked down at her.
Yu Zhiling straightened her posture and repeated, "You have to believe me, I really already have a solution."
He didn’t know what her plan was or what she intended to do, but he knew one thing—his mind was in chaos. The air around him was filled with her scent, a faint floral fragrance he couldn’t quite place.
"Master, this disciple is tired and wishes to rest. I will rise early tomorrow to practice my sword forms."
Mo Zhu’s tone was flat as he spoke, then turned and walked away without another word.
Tall and long-legged, his strides were wide, and before Yu Zhiling could call out to him, he had already circled past her and left her courtyard.
She heard the sound of the neighboring gate opening and closing, signaling that the young man had entered his quarters. The fire pit was now left with only Yu Zhiling for company.
Staring at the flickering flames, she pouted, her voice muffled. "He left again. Would it kill him to stay and talk for a while?"
There was no one here to keep her company.
"System."
The system never responded to her.
Yu Zhiling lowered her head and nibbled slowly on a sweet potato, her thoughts drifting. What was her dear friend Gui doing right now?
In her other world, no matter how late she messaged Gui, she would always reply within half an hour. During the most helpless days of her illness, it was this friend who had kept her going.
"Why won’t anyone talk to me… I just want someone to chat with…"
Prolonged illness had made her more sensitive, overly concerned about those around her, and terrified of loneliness. She desperately craved companionship.
Still clutching the silk handkerchief Mo Zhu had left behind, she wiped the tear stains from her face before taking large, hurried bites of the sweet potato. But she ate too fast, choking on a piece, and frantically searched for water.
A teacup appeared from behind her, its delicate aroma wafting through the air.
"Even at your age, you still choke on food."
The deep, cold voice mocked her, yet the teacup was already expertly held to her lips, allowing Yu Zhiling to drink without lifting a finger.
She blinked in confusion at the person before her.
Yan Shanqing held the cup steady, tilting it slightly. "Drink. Unless you enjoy choking?"
Only then did Yu Zhiling register the suffocating sensation in her throat and hastily gulped down the tea, washing away the obstruction.
"Eldest Senior Brother?"
"Hm."
Yan Shanqing responded gruffly, settling onto the cushion Mo Zhu had vacated earlier. He picked up one of the roasted sweet potatoes she had prepared.
"Two hundred years old and still addicted to these sickly-sweet things. You never outgrew this habit as a child."
Yu Zhiling didn’t dare meet his gaze, afraid he’d scold her further, so she hunched her shoulders like a timid little turtle.
Yan Shanqing peeled the sweet potato and took a bite, chewing in silence. The quiet between them stretched into an oppressive stillness.
By the time she finished hers, Yan Shanqing had long since eaten his. One roasted sweet potato remained on the ground.
He picked it up and asked, "Still hungry?"
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "No, save it for Third Senior Brother."
Yan Shanqing pocketed it.
Watching his face soften in the firelight, she hesitated for a moment before scooting her cushion closer to him.
Yan Shanqing noticed her movement, and the tight line of his lips relaxed imperceptibly, curving ever so slightly.
"Eldest Senior Brother."
He turned to look at her.
"I’m sorry."
Yan Shanqing arched a brow. "Sorry for what?"
"For disappointing you and Third Senior Brother… and Master too."
Instead of acknowledging her words, he abruptly changed the subject. "Give me your hand."
"Huh?"
Confused, Yu Zhiling obeyed, extending her hand toward him.
Yan Shanqing’s fingers pressed against her wrist, and a torrent of spiritual energy surged into her meridians. She felt the foreign energy seep into her dantian—the most vulnerable part of a cultivator. Had Yan Shanqing wished her harm, even someone of her cultivation level, the Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, would have been powerless to resist.
But Yu Zhiling didn’t resist. Unsure of his intentions, she remained docile at his side.
As his spiritual energy swept through her consciousness, Yan Shanqing’s furrowed brow gradually smoothed. After a quarter of an hour, he withdrew his energy and found Yu Zhiling still watching him obediently.
His heart softened. Yu Zhiling had been raised by him and their fellow disciples. Though she was their junior sister, she was more like a little sister to them. No matter what she did, no matter how angry he got, he could never truly abandon her.
"Your Dao Heart is stable. Your cultivation hasn’t deteriorated."
Yu Zhiling nodded. "I know. I’m not injured."
Yan Shanqing clarified, "Not injured, but you’re one step away from transcending tribulation. The Heavenly Dao watches you closely. You cultivate the Path of Clarity—one misstep could hinder your progress."
Yu Zhiling blinked, suddenly understanding his meaning.
Today, he and Xiang Wuxue had been furious—not just on Mo Zhu’s behalf, but because they feared Yu Zhiling had birthed an inner demon, strayed from the right path, and destabilized her Dao Heart.
The higher a cultivator’s realm, the greater the risk of demonic deviation. If one allowed their inner demons to fester, they could shatter their Dao Heart during tribulation and fall into demonic cultivation.
Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue were angry at how she had treated an innocent boy, but they were also worried for her.
Yu Zhiling opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Staring into Yan Shanqing’s stern eyes, she could always discern boundless concern beneath their cold surface.
Yan Shanqing sighed, ruffling her hair. "Mo Zhu is a good child, Xiaowu. You never should have done this."
"Eldest Senior Brother, I know I was wrong…"
Yan Shanqing exhaled, shaking his head. "Words are meaningless now. Since you’ve realized your mistake, you must correct it. The Immortal’s Sprout has been found. Have you figured out how to retrieve it from the Zhongli Family?"
Yu Zhiling nodded. "I have a plan. I know how to get it."
"Are you certain it will work?"
"Absolutely."
Seeing her confidence, Yan Shanqing finally relented. "Good."
"Eldest Senior Brother, I’ll properly guide Mo Zhu in his cultivation from now on."
"Is he angry with you?"
"...Of course he is."
"Then how will you face him?"
"I’ll take care of him, teach him sincerely, and do everything I can to make amends. I won’t disappoint you all again."
The corners of Yan Shanqing’s lips lifted slightly as he retrieved a dark green jade hairpin from his sleeve, motioning for her to bow her head.
Yu Zhiling complied, her demeanor meek.
Yan Shanqing secured the pin into her bun. "Your Second Senior Sister bought this for you before she left the sect. She entrusted it to me, but you were in seclusion, so I didn’t disturb you."
Yu Zhiling touched the hairpin gently. "Thank you, Second Senior Sister… and thank you, Eldest Senior Brother. No—thank all of you, my senior brothers and sisters."
Yan Shanqing tilted his head. "What for?"
"For always being there for Yu Xiaowu."
Even if she wasn’t the real Yu Xiaowu, she could still feel the Yingshan Sect’s love and protection for her. She sensed that this was how Yu Xiaowu had always been—cherished by Yan Shanqing and the others. The Yu Xiaowu they adored was endearing, and she didn’t want to revert to the cold, aloof Immortal Lord Zhuoyu of the past decade.
That would only hurt them.
And she never wanted to hurt them.
Yet Yan Shanqing beamed, his rugged face softened with a tender smile. "Xiaowu, the ones who should be saying thank you are us."
Yu Zhiling was bewildered. "...What?"
"Because you are Yu Xiaowu. Yu Xiaowu is the treasure of the Yingshan Sect. As long as she’s by our side, her senior brothers and sisters will keep pushing forward—further and further—striving to become her strongest support, so she can act without hesitation and dare to do anything."
Yu Zhiling’s throat tightened. Yan Shanqing’s face blurred in her vision as she lowered her head, tears falling like pearls. She wiped them away with the silk handkerchief Mo Zhu had given her.
Yan Shanqing sighed and took the handkerchief from her, gently drying her cheeks.
"You’re still crying at your age? Your senior brother didn’t mean to scold you today. I was wrong—I shouldn’t have been harsh with Xiaowu."
"Then… then promise you’ll never scold me again. I really won’t do something like that anymore."
"No more scolding. I’ll never scold Yu Xiaowu again."
"Then… then I forgive you."
They chattered on, and Yu Zhiling gradually regained her old fearless spirit.
Just beyond the wall, Mo Zhu sat in the courtyard as Xiang Wuxue withdrew his hand from his wrist.
Hearing the voices from the neighboring yard, Xiang Wuxue’s lips curved slightly.
He placed a porcelain vial on the table. "Your condition is stable. These are Heart-Nurturing Pills—they’ll soothe your meridians. Mo Zhu, Xiaowu was wrong, and this senior was also at fault. If you no longer wish to be her disciple, I can guide your cultivation instead. I’ll pass on everything I’ve learned."
Mo Zhu’s lashes lowered faintly as he shook his head. "Thank you for your concern, Senior Uncle, but I have no intention of choosing another master. My life was also saved by my teacher all those years ago, and we’ve already formed the Jade Pact."
Xiang Wuxue sighed, then continued, seeing his resolve. "Xiaowu knows she was wrong. Don’t worry—we’ll find a way to undo the Heart-Devouring Gu. She won’t act like that again."
He paused, listening to the laughter next door, his expression distant.
"She’s changed so much since leaving seclusion… How wonderful. She’s finally returned to herself…" Xiang Wuxue murmured, as if speaking to Mo Zhu—or perhaps to himself.
Mo Zhu’s ears were filled with Yu Zhiling and Yan Shanqing’s voices—though mostly Yu Zhiling’s. She chattered endlessly, rambling about everything under the sun, as if overjoyed to finally have someone to talk to.
Earlier, she had asked him to stay and keep her company, but he hadn’t. If he had, would she have talked this much with him too?
Mo Zhu didn’t know.
Xiang Wuxue said Yu Zhiling had changed greatly after leaving seclusion, and they were all relieved. This version of Yu Xiaowu was achingly familiar.
Mo Zhu lifted his gaze, as if he could still see her through the wall—curled up on a small cushion, hugging her knees, tilting her head when she spoke, her gaze intense when she looked at someone.
Mo Zhu had always been perceptive, able to see a person’s true nature with ease. Since Yu Zhiling emerged from seclusion, the disdain and coldness in her eyes had vanished.
Her emotions were vivid, unrestrained. Her words and actions constantly defied his expectations, her unpredictable thoughts unlike anything he’d ever encountered.
It wasn’t amnesia.
It was as if she had become someone else entirely.
