Heart Still, Then Transformation
The Master is dead.
There was no cry of pain, no struggle; he closed his eyes silently, without saying goodbye to anyone. Just as quietly as when he first came to this town alone.
There was no tombstone or inscription at the time of burial.
There was only a low mound, blending in with the surrounding slopes, and it was hard to spot without careful observation.
Everything in the town remained the same; the Willow Creek was still the same Willow Creek, the Jujube Tree were still the same Jujube Tree, and life went on as usual.
The only difference was that the private school had closed its doors because it no longer had a teacher.
With nowhere else to go, the children appeared in twos and threes on the streets, chasing and playing, making the place much more lively than usual.
It seems no one remembers that the old teacher who taught them for several years is no longer with them.
Besides.
Qin Wangchuan's pupils turned gold after that night.
People have changed too; I can't quite put my finger on it, but they're just different.
It's as if something in my heart has been let go, and instead, it has sunk to the bottom, and I've become still.
Qin Zhaoer stood with her hands on her hips, circling the stone table from left to right, her eyes fixed on him as if trying to dig out the answer from those two pools of gold.
What's wrong with your eyes?
"Who knows?" Qin Wangchuan turned a page of his medical book, casually touched the corner of his eye, and didn't seem to care.
Qin Zhaoer persisted, bending down to get closer and raising her voice by half an octave. "Come on! You definitely know!"
"Have no idea."
"I definitely know! Tell me!"
Qin Wangchuan then raised his head and glanced at her.
There was no impatience in those golden eyes, only a hint of helplessness.
"Why would I lie to you?" he said, his voice soft and tinged with amusement.
Looking into those eyes, Qin Zhaoer felt waves of warmth spreading across her face.
She quickly turned around and touched her face.
It was indeed very hot.
Only after Qin Wangchuan lowered his head to continue flipping through the book did she quietly turn back and cautiously look over.
Since that night, everything seems to have remained unchanged.
But Qin Zhaoer always felt that he had changed.
She spoke gently, her eyes were smiling, and she was unbelievably beautiful.
But this gentleness doesn't make people feel close to her.
On the contrary, it was as if there was a layer between him and something else; he could be seen, but not touched.
Why is this happening?
She slowly sat down opposite him, propping her head up as she looked at him.
As she watched, she moved from opposite to beside him without him noticing, resting her hands on the stone table and turning her head to look at him.
Qin Wangchuan occasionally glanced up at her.
Those golden eyes were faint, neither cold nor hot, like moonlight falling on the water's surface—beautiful, yet impossible to scoop up.
He didn't know what she was looking at, nor did he ask. He simply lowered his head again and continued flipping through the book.
The gaze that fell upon her was gentle.
A gentle acceptance of everything.
But that's not what Qin Zhaoer wanted.
What she wanted was for those eyes to look only at her, and for them to smile only at her.
I don't know when this thought came to me, or whether it counts as greed.
Lost in thought, Qin Zhaoer withdrew her gaze, lowered her head, and stared at her fingers resting on the stone table.
Then, she looked at Qin Wangchuan's fingers.
I want to touch it.
The person was sitting right next to me, within arm's reach, but it felt like we were so far apart.
It felt as far away as the Immortal Court, separated by this world.
One was reading a book under the Jujube Tree, while the other was lying down watching him.
The sun was shining brightly, and the wind was gentle, casting the shadows of the Jujube Tree lightly across the ground.
Qin Zhaoer slowly, slowly closed her eyes.
Boom--!
The door was kicked open.
It wasn't that Zhou Heng wanted to use his feet; he simply didn't have hands.
With a bunch of bags hanging from his left hand, a potted plant in his right, and a stack of papers tucked under his elbow, he looked like a tree laden with fruit, swaying precariously.
"Hey, Qin Wangchuan, is this yours?"
Before he could finish speaking, a book flew towards him and hit him squarely on the forehead.
Zhou Heng swayed, the bag bobbed a few times, and he barely managed to stand up.
"What are you doing!" he yelled, glaring at her.
Qin Zhaoer glared at him, her voice even more aggressive. "What are you doing! Even deer know to knock on the door, don't you?"
The White Deer under the Jujube Tree raised its head, glanced at her, then lowered its head again without saying a word.
"I don't have hands!" Zhou Heng shouted, craning his neck, turning the tables on Qin Wangchuan, "Look, she's biting someone again! You better control her!"
Qin Wangchuan smiled and shook his head, not replying.
"Alright, this is yours, right?" Zhou Heng handed the potted plant forward.
It was the same thing I had given to the Master before.
There's Gathering Spirit Talisman buried underneath, so it can be considered a treasure.
Qin Wangchuan glanced at it, then looked at Zhou Heng.
"You've been running around a lot these past few days, it hasn't been easy for you. Here, take this."
Zhou Heng was stunned.
He looked down at the inconspicuous little pot in his hand, then looked up at Qin Wangchuan, blinked twice, and his face clearly said, "Are you kidding me?"
"No, I've done so much work for you, and you think you can just get rid of this little thing without even treating me to a meal?"
"Hey, you know what this thing is—"
Qin Zhaoer strode forward, but before she could finish speaking, Qin Wangchuan gently grabbed her wrist.
He didn't use any force, but Qin Zhaoer still stood in place.
Qin Wangchuan turned to look at Zhou Heng, his eyes curving slightly. The smile was gentle, yet it made it impossible for anyone to refuse him.
"Okay, it's on you."
"Hiss—" Zhou Heng then noticed those eyes, "What's wrong with your eyes?"
Qin Zhaoer stepped forward again, her voice neither too loud nor too soft. "You talk too much."
"Eighth Sister."
Two words: neither too light nor too heavy.
Qin Zhaoer immediately shut up. Her lips moved, but she didn't say anything more. She just glared at Zhou Heng.
Get lost, you damn monkey!
From Zhou Heng's perspective.
Under the Jujube Tree, Qin Wangchuan sat in the dappled sunlight, flipping through a book, calm and composed, as steady as a mountain.
The sunlight fell on his shoulders, making him look soft and bright, like someone who had stepped out of a painting.
Qin Zhaoer stood to the side, hands on her hips, eyes glaring, like a cat about to explode.
There was constant movement from head to toe; not a moment of stillness.
But this very person, once called by him, obediently shut his mouth and only dared to glare at him.
Watching this scene, Zhou Heng clicked his tongue inwardly: 'These two are really a perfect match.'
'But, Eighth Sister? What kind of trick is this?'
The head of the previous Mountain-Shaking Lord was cut off and sent to Jiang Zhuo's courtyard, but the body was left in the same place.
Qin Wangchuan didn't have time to retrieve it at the time, and later he was busy with the Master's affairs, so no one paid any attention to it.
Old Fan has been away from town recently, searching for a cure for the illness, so no one is keeping an eye on this area.
Several Martial Practitioner followed the pungent smell of blood and made their way into the mountain hollow.