◎Ji Qinghong x Yun Sulü◎
In the cultivation world, whispers about the master of Sulu Hall, Ji Qinghong, and his teacher Yun Sulü have long been a secretive tale—circulated only in hushed tones, never daring to reach Ji Qinghong’s ears.
Some speak with conviction, while others dismiss it as absurd:
When Yun Sulü perished, she was only seventeen. Even if the two were of similar age, how could a fleeting youthful infatuation persist in the hearts and words of the cultivation world three thousand years later, becoming a whispered legend of hidden love?
Moreover, everyone knows Ji Qinghong cultivates the Path of Heartlessness.
Yet, what these people do not know is that Yun Sulü and Ji Qinghong met far earlier than most could imagine.
……
Unlike Ji Qinghong, who would later join the Guiyuan Sect, Yun Sulü was born into it.
She was no privileged sect heir but an abandoned infant picked up by the Master of Chain Peaks at the foot of the mountain.
Ah, and back then, that mountain wasn’t yet called “that mountain”—it was known as Chain Peaks, named by its master for the “interlocking formations” it symbolized.
At the time, the Guiyuan Sect still reigned as the foremost sect, with six or seven out of ten cultivators being sword practitioners.
Among the many illustrious peaks, Chain Peaks was obscure—neither grand in reputation nor bustling in numbers.
In the Guiyuan Sect, any cultivator who reached the Nascent Soul stage could establish their own peak or remain under their original master.
Yun Sulü’s teacher was the first master of Chain Peaks.
Unlike the “reputation” of that peak today, Chain Peaks had no ancestral legacy to lean on.
The Master of Chain Peaks was neither exceptionally talented nor young—barely breaking through to Nascent Soul at the brink of her lifespan. Chain Peaks was, in truth, a weak peak.
In Yun Sulü’s memories, her teacher was neither stern nor severe.
More than a distant, official title, the silver-haired Master of Chain Peaks raised Yun Sulü with the tenderness of a grandmother.
When Yun Sulü was five, the Master of Chain Peaks locked the gates of Chain Peaks and led her little disciple down the mountain.
Gazing into Yun Sulü’s still-innocent eyes, the master said softly:
“From today onward, your teacher will take you beyond the sect to see more of the world. Remember the ways of mortals well.”
Ah, so this must be the “training journey” her senior brothers and sisters often spoke of.
But didn’t they all grow tall and strong before venturing out? Why was her teacher in such a hurry?
At the question, the woman paused, then sighed faintly.
Teacher and disciple spent every day together, smoothing over the subtle changes in each other’s appearance.
So little Yun Sulü never noticed the uncharacteristic signs of aging—the faint wrinkles creeping into the corners of her teacher’s eyes.
The woman with streaks of white in her hair sighed gently, then bent to cradle her only disciple in her arms.
She pressed her cheek to Yun Sulü’s, as if the girl were her own daughter, then spoke in a voice soft enough not to startle a flower:
“Because… your teacher’s time is running out.”
And so, Yun Sulü followed her master down the mountain and settled into a courtyard in the Honeysuckle Lane.
Next door lived another household—just one boy, barely taller than Yun Sulü.
His hair, tied back, gleamed like crow feathers, and his deep, ink-black eyes held a darkness beyond his years.
His name was Ji Qinghong.
Riding bamboo horses, circling beds, playing with plums—
Childhood friends, sharing a home, no doubts between them.
The bond described in poetry, forged from infancy, must have been something like this.
……
Yet at the very beginning, the boy had not come riding any bamboo horse.
Ji Qinghong didn’t play the bamboo-horse game—or, in the cultivation world, the version where children balanced on bamboo poles, pretending to sword-fly. In fact, his expression hinted at distaste.
He accepted the plate of soybean cakes Yun Sulü offered with one hand, lips pressed thin. Though his eyes smiled, his guardedness was unmistakable.
“Thank you for the treats.” Ji Qinghong kept one hand on the door, poised to shut it at any moment. “I’m Ji Qinghong.”
“Ji Qinghong?”
Yun Sulü had only murmured the name once when the boy’s gaze sharpened. His stance didn’t change, but his smile suddenly bristled with invisible thorns.
“What?” he asked softly. “Do I not deserve the name ‘Qinghong’?”
“No.” Yun Sulü blinked. “I just think your name is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Yours is lovely too.”
With that, Ji Qinghong firmly closed the door.
Left standing there, Yun Sulü blinked again, staring at the shut door in confusion.
“But… I didn’t even get to introduce myself…”
The next morning, as soon as Yun Sulü stepped outside, she found the plate washed clean and placed on her doorstep.
Had she not been observant, she might have stepped on it.
Holding the plate, Yun Sulü felt a pang of sadness. The boy next door would rather return it under cover of night than knock on her door in daylight.
Hearing her complaint, the Master of Chain Peaks sighed and patted her head gently.
“Don’t blame the child for being wary. After all, he is…”
The last words were swallowed.
The master stroked her disciple’s hair and said, “Our Sulü is a good girl. You mustn’t bully him.”
“Mm, I won’t, Teacher.”
Yun Sulü nodded firmly and that evening, she wrote a note.
She wrapped it in a handkerchief, tied it to a stone, and left it by Ji Qinghong’s gate. Then, with a light knock, she darted back to her own yard.
From behind the wall, she watched as Ji Qinghong pushed open the door, scanned the area, and finally noticed the handkerchief.
For a moment, he froze, as if its existence surprised him.
Hesitating briefly, he used his sleeve to pick it up and shook it loose—revealing the note inside:
[I’m Yun Sulü.
Your name really is beautiful.]
A faint rustle came from next door. Ji Qinghong turned sharply—
—and saw a pair of bright, expressive eyes peeking over the wall.
Yun Sulü wore a light green hair ribbon, and when Ji Qinghong glanced her way, she smiled shyly, like a soft green vine, slipping down from the other side of the wall.
…
The second time Yun Sulü met Ji Qinghong, she finally understood the unspoken implication behind her master’s words back then.
—Ji Qinghong was a rabbit spirit.
At that time, the Demon-Subduing War had yet to begin. Humans and spirits lived in separate territories, still wary of each other, with little interaction between them.
Ji Qinghong’s identity as a spirit made him stand out in this alley like a lantern in the dark.
And in this world, there are always those whose first instinct upon seeing a bright light is not to shield it with a gentle veil, but to douse it with a bucket of cold water.
So, Yun Sulü witnessed Ji Qinghong being cornered by a group of boys at the mouth of the alley.
“Hey, if it isn’t Ji the Bunny! What brings you out today?”
“He must’ve run out of hay—how else is he gonna eat? Gotta go pick some wild grass, right? Or maybe he’ll just nibble on the weeds by his doorstep?”
“—Oh no, that won’t do! Don’t they say rabbits don’t eat the grass by their burrows?”
“Hahahahaha!”
The boys erupted into raucous laughter at this well-timed joke.
But even after their simple taunts, they didn’t disperse.
A more direct and malicious intent seeped from their words, their stares, and the way they closed in, surrounding Ji Qinghong in a tight circle.
“Hey, Ji, can you turn into a rabbit? Show us your ears.”
“You’re a rabbit, but you’ve got a bird’s name—won’t you just go splat when you fall from the sky?”
“I heard rabbits are real cowards. If we scare you, will you just drop dead?”
“They say rabbits can play dead too. Why don’t you give us a show?”
“No need for fake death—real rabbits are tiny. If he dares to shift, I’ll stomp him flat!”
Ji Qinghong kept his head slightly lowered, the shadows from the eaves obscuring his expression, outlining his profile with an air of detachment.
Amid the jeers, he remained silent, leisurely removing the basket strapped to his back.
“—Enough! How can you bully someone like this?”
Even as a bystander, Yun Sulü couldn’t help but feel indignant. Her chest heaved a few times before she mustered the courage to rush forward, pulling Ji Qinghong behind her.
Ji Qinghong blinked, his fingers pausing mid-motion before he slowly fastened the basket back in place.
The leader of the boys stared at her in disbelief. “…And who are you supposed to be?”
“His bunny sister, maybe?”
“Hey, don’t you know? He’s a rabbit spirit!”
“S-so what if he is?” Having spent most of her life secluded in the Chain Peaks with her master, Yun Sulü had never argued with anyone before.
But Ji Qinghong stood right behind her. If she backed down, those boys would force him into his rabbit form and stomp him to death!
So, despite trembling with fear, Yun Sulü squeezed her eyes shut and stubbornly stood her ground.
“—You… you must’ve never read a book in your lives! You don’t know anything!”
“…Huh?”
Her heart pounded so hard she could barely think, her tongue nearly tied, but she clung to her flimsy bravado and bluffed wildly.
“Rabbits are vicious! They’ll bite you till you bleed! You think you can stomp one? D-dream on. A rabbit’ll leap onto your shoulder and chomp your ear right off! You know why their ears are so long? ‘You are what you eat’—rabbits can gnaw your ears like radishes, crunch-crunch, till they’re gone!”
“……”
The boys exchanged bewildered glances, somehow convinced by this absurd yet oddly logical nonsense.
After a silent moment, they let out a collective shriek, clutching their ears as they fled.
Now, only Yun Sulü and Ji Qinghong remained in the alley.
Yun Sulü finally dared to open her eyes.
She peeked through a tiny slit first, confirming the boys were gone, before exhaling in relief and slumping against the pink wall behind her.
Clutching her racing heart, she muttered, “That was terrifying…”
She had trained in cultivation long enough that she wasn’t afraid of fighting those boys.
But this was the first time in her life she’d ever argued with anyone.
A soft chuckle came from behind. Yun Sulü looked up to find Ji Qinghong now standing in front of her.
The basket he’d been carrying had been set aside in a distant corner.
Ji Qinghong gazed at her with a faint smile, his tone gentle. “With such a timid heart, which of us is really the rabbit here?”
Yun Sulü blurted, “Obviously me… Huh?”
Before she could backtrack, Ji Qinghong’s eyes curved into crescents, clearly amused.
This boy was far more composed than others his age, his dark, fathomless eyes often holding a detached, knowing glint.
So when he smiled, it was like a figure stepping gracefully out of a painting, descending from the clouds into the mortal world.
Yun Sulü studied him and thought, This smile is different from the first time I saw him.
This one… seems even more beautiful.
“How can you laugh when they were bullying you?” Yun Sulü asked, puzzled. “If it were me, I’d be furious.”
Ji Qinghong didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head in thought before asking,
“Do you know the three ways to deal with people who provoke you?”
Yun Sulü shook her head honestly. “No.”
The answer seemed to please him.
He counted them off leisurely. “First, retaliate on the spot. Second, remember it and retaliate years later. And third…”
“Third?” Yun Sulü pressed.
She wondered if the third option was forgiveness.
Ji Qinghong smiled faintly. “Third, treat them as entertainment.”
“……”
Somehow, though his words made sense, they struck Yun Sulü as slightly odd.
But for someone their age, such a measured, philosophical response was undeniably impressive.
So, Yun Sulü nodded in admiration. “You have such a good mindset.”
Ji Qinghong replied modestly, “Not at all.”
It wasn’t until much, much later that Yun Sulü realized the source of that strange feeling—
For instance, in the days that followed, she occasionally crossed paths with the same boys who had harassed Ji Qinghong.
Every single one of them sported bruised faces, wailing as they rushed past her.
A few times, she even noticed suspicious threads clinging to their shoulders—fragments of burlap sacks, unmistakably out of place against their clothes.
Yun Sulü: “……”
For instance, many, many years later, the renowned demon lords of the cultivation world were each perceived differently by people.
Take Demon Lord Yan, for example—you’d better not offend her, because she settles grudges on the spot.
As for Demon Lord Wu, generally, if you don’t provoke Demon Lord Yan, you won’t cross him either.
But once you’ve wronged Demon Lord Wu, you’ll always wonder if, years later, he’ll suddenly strike you with that unmistakable air of vengeance.
As for Ji Qinghong…
Don’t even mention that guy!
He’s the kind who retaliates immediately, then keeps retaliating, over and over—settling scores today and then again ten years later, all while gleefully treating you as his personal entertainment. A real menace, that rabbit!
…
It seemed that after that, interactions between Yun Sulü and Ji Qinghong suddenly became much more frequent.
When Yun Sulü sent food boxes to Ji Qinghong, he accepted them. And when returning them, he didn’t do so in the dead of night but knocked politely during the day to hand them back.
Yun Sulü even started visiting Ji Qinghong’s courtyard to play. After all, their homes were separated by just a single wall—if her master called out just a little louder, she could hurry back for meals.
Ji Qinghong’s home was neat and tidy, but exceedingly simple. Though the furniture bore no visible repairs, it was dull and worn with age.
Most strikingly, Ji Qinghong’s house felt empty, devoid of any human warmth.
It took Yun Sulü several visits before she finally confirmed that Ji Qinghong lived there alone.
—No wonder those boys dared to bully him. They knew no one would stand up for him.
—Those brats were truly awful!
Yun Sulü was both shocked and furious at the realization.
After a while, she cautiously asked, “Ji Qinghong, your parents… I’ve never seen them. Where are they?”
If they had passed away, she would have at least seen memorial tablets in the house.
But to abandon a child like this—even if they left him a house—what kind of parents would do such a thing?
Yun Sulü herself was a foundling, so when faced with a similar situation, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of shared indignation.
Hearing her question, Ji Qinghong lowered his eyes faintly.
“They’re gone.”
Yun Sulü widened her eyes awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
Then it struck her—Ji Qinghong was a demon.
Setting up memorial tablets was a human custom.
Ji Qinghong shook his head slightly, signaling for her not to dwell on it.
“They died of old age, peacefully… There was nothing to be done. A rabbit’s lifespan just isn’t as long as a human’s.”
Logically, children their age shouldn’t yet understand the concept of death.
But as if struck by lightning, Yun Sulü suddenly remembered her master—and the words he had spoken while carrying her down the mountain: “Your master’s time is running out.”
In that instant, gazing at the desolate, dimly lit hall of Ji Qinghong’s home, Yun Sulü understood death for the first time.
—So, death meant parting forever.
A sudden wave of fear gripped Yun Sulü’s young heart. Anxiously, she seized her friend’s hand. “Then… Ji Qinghong… you mustn’t die, okay?”
Ji Qinghong smiled and replied in an eerily calm tone, “Well, I am just a rabbit… Hey, why are you crying?”
Seeing Yun Sulü’s lips tremble and her eyes redden, as if tears would spill any second, Ji Qinghong paused, then quickly added, “Alright, I won’t die right now.”
“But dying soon after would still be terrible!”
Death was a heavy topic, even when discussed between two children.
Ji Qinghong frowned in thought. “Then how long should I live?”
“Ten thousand years!” It was the largest number Yun Sulü could think of. “You have to live a long, long life!”
“Fine,” Ji Qinghong nodded with a chuckle. “Then I promise you—I’ll live ten thousand years, a long, long life.”
