Moonlight flowed like water, quietly washing over the small path at night.
Feng Lingshuang and Lu Li walked side by side.
The night breeze rustled through the spiritual plants lining the path, bringing a soft, whispering sound and a faint, clean scent of vegetation.
Yet, it could not disperse the heaviness and resolve in Feng Lingshuang’s heart, nor could it smooth away the memories of being brutally harmed by his rebellious disciple in the game, memories that Feng Lingshuang’s earlier dialogue had inadvertently stirred within Lu Li.
And so, Lu Li and Feng Lingshuang walked in silence for a while, only the sound of their footsteps softly echoing in the tranquil night.
Feng Lingshuang’s gaze, concealed behind her veiled hat, remained fixed on Lu Li’s profile.
She needed to understand her master’s attitude towards “harm” and “forgiveness.”
After all, this concerned how she should “atone for her sins” in the future and how she should “approach” her master, Lu Li.
Thinking of this, Feng Lingshuang took a deep breath and spoke again, as if casually making conversation.
Her voice was deliberately soft, carrying a hint of barely perceptible probing.
“Immortal Lu, I… have another question. It may be somewhat presumptuous, but I still wish to ask for your insight.”
Lu Li pulled himself away from those memories of “tragic cycles” and turned his head to look at her, his tone still gentle.
“Fellow Daoist, there’s no need for such formality. Please, ask freely.”
Even though Lu Li said this, a faint trace of doubt flickered in his heart.
‘Fellow Daoist Jian Mingzi seems to have quite a few questions? And they all carry a bit of a… probing feel?’
This thought of Lu Li’s was clearly captured by Feng Lingshuang.
Her heart tightened, and she hurriedly emphasized the word “hypothetical” in her next question to dispel his suspicions.
“It’s a hypothetical, hypothetical! I… merely wish to hear some of your views, Predecessor Lu.”
Feng Lingshuang paused, as if organizing her words, then slowly asked Lu Li, “If a person… unintentionally, or rather, under some unavoidable circumstances… a situation where they had no choice… deeply harmed someone who is extremely important to them.”
“What do you think, True Person, should this person do to possibly seek that person’s forgiveness?”
Upon hearing this, Lu Li’s footsteps slowed slightly, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
‘Unintentional? Unavoidable? Harming someone important?’
‘This hypothetical from Jian Mingzi… sounds a bit like personal experience?’
‘Hmm… Could it be that this Fellow Daoist Jian Mingzi… has done something she feels guilty about towards a close friend, and her heart is troubled, so she’s seeking solace from a stranger like me?’
Though Lu Li thought this, he showed no expression on his face.
He merely pondered and replied, “This matter… depends on the extent of the harm. If it’s a minor offense, a sincere apology and making amends might clear the air. But if it touches upon principles, damages the very foundation… then I’m afraid it would be difficult.”
Feng Lingshuang’s heart sank slightly with his words.
Her voice carried a hint of urgency and difficulty that even she didn’t notice.
“Then… what if the harm… is very deep, so deep it’s almost irreparable, and the person who was harmed… had also shown you an immense kindness? A kindness akin to giving you a second life?”
“And you… betrayed that kindness.”
“Kindness? And harmed them deeply?”
The doubt in Lu Li’s heart grew stronger.
He couldn’t help but think of the “elder brother” Feng Lingshuang had mentioned earlier.
‘Jian Mingzi mentioned before that she had an elder brother who treated her extremely well, whose kindness was as weighty as a mountain, and it seems… that elder brother of hers is no longer in this world? With this hypothetical now, could it be that she did something she feels guilty about towards her elder brother? To the point where she now regrets it deeply?’
As this thought arose in Lu Li’s heart, the look he gave Feng Lingshuang couldn’t help but carry a trace of sympathy.
If that were truly the case, then the torment in this fellow daoist’s heart was likely extraordinary.
However, the moment this thought of his ended, Feng Lingshuang reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Almost without thinking, with a hint of panic, she blurted out, “It’s not my elder brother! The one harmed wasn’t my elder brother!”
But the moment the words left her mouth, Feng Lingshuang regretted it!
Her face beneath the veiled hat instantly paled.
Damn it!
How could I just deny it like that?
Doesn’t this just tell him that I can detect his thoughts?!
Lu Li indeed froze, his steps coming to a complete halt.
He turned to look at her somewhat bewilderedly, his eyes filled with confusion.
‘Huh? I didn’t say that out loud? How does Jian Mingzi know I was thinking about her elder brother? I was merely… thinking to myself just now…’
Upon hearing Lu Li’s inner thoughts, a chill instantly shot up Feng Lingshuang’s spine from her feet to the top of her head.
The Heart Reading System was her biggest secret and reliance; it absolutely could not be exposed!
Especially in front of her master!
After all, her master didn’t have a system.
If she exposed the system in front of him, she was afraid the system would directly erase her!
Feng Lingshuang’s mind raced, her forehead almost breaking out in cold sweat from anxiety as she desperately searched for a reasonable explanation.
Just in that split second, Lu Li himself came up with a seemingly reasonable speculation.
Looking at Jian Mingzi’s body, which had leaned forward slightly in her haste to deny, and sensing the instantly tense aura even through the veiled hat and face veil, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head, feeling rather relieved in his heart.
‘Ah, of course. It must be that my expression revealed something while I was pondering, making her think I suspected discord between her and her elder brother. And her such haste to deny it likely means she has extremely deep feelings for her elder brother and doesn’t wish to be misunderstood in the slightest. It was my abruptness.’
Capturing this self-justifying thought from Lu Li, Feng Lingshuang’s heart, which had been suspended in mid-air, thudded back into place, as if she had been yanked back from the edge of a cliff.
She secretly let out a long sigh of relief, her back already soaked with cold sweat.
That was close…
Thankfully, Master came up with a reasonable explanation on his own…
Feng Lingshuang quickly took this “step” down, her tone carrying a bit of the grievance and emphasis of someone who had been “misunderstood,” as she remedied the situation with Lu Li.
“My elder brother and I share an extremely deep bond; I could never possibly do anything to harm him. Just now, your expression made me think you had some misunderstanding, hence my loss of composure. I hope you will forgive me, True Person.”
She attributed the reason to Lu Li’s “expression,” perfectly covering it up.
Hearing this, Lu Li became even more convinced of his own judgment.
The slight doubt in his heart vanished like smoke, and instead, he felt that this “Fellow Daoist Jian Mingzi,” though a bit sensitive, was deeply loyal and righteous, adding a few more points of favorability towards her.
Thinking this, Lu Li apologized.
“It was my lack of observation that made you overthink, Fellow Daoist. Please do not take offense.”
As Lu Li’s words fell, the tense atmosphere between the two eased once more.
They continued walking forward.
After this little episode, Feng Lingshuang didn’t dare to guide the conversation with overly specific questions again, but she still hadn’t gotten the answer she wanted.
Steadying her mind, she brought the topic back to that “hypothetical.”
“Then… True Person, returning to the earlier hypothetical. If it truly is as described, the harm is extremely deep, the kindness is also extremely heavy… does this person… truly have no room for redemption at all? What… should they do?”
Feng Lingshuang’s voice carried a trace of barely detectable, almost despairing hope.
Lu Li could sense the other party’s persistence regarding this “hypothetical” question.
Though he found it a bit strange, considering her loyalty and righteousness, he still began to ponder seriously.
He walked with his hands behind his back, gazing at the cold, clear moon in the sky, and spoke slowly.
“If it truly is as you say, Fellow Daoist, kindness deep and harm heavy…”
He paused, his tone becoming solemn.
“Then, first, the one who erred must clearly recognize their own mistake. Not a superficial acknowledgment, but a realization from the depths of their soul of exactly how much harm they have caused. This remorse must be genuine and sincere.”
Feng Lingshuang’s head beneath the veiled hat nodded slightly.
She held her breath, listening carefully.
“Second,” Lu Li continued, “remorse alone is not enough. One must take action to make amends. Do everything within one’s power to compensate for the losses suffered by the other party, whether material… or emotional. Even if the other party is unwilling to accept it for a time, or may never accept it, the intention and action of compensation must not cease. This is the duty of the one who erred.”
Feng Lingshuang repeated silently in her heart: Compensation… do everything possible to compensate… She looked at her master’s profile beside her, her gaze growing more determined.
“Then,” Lu Li’s voice lowered a few degrees, carrying a sense of worldly weariness, “perhaps… one could try to re-establish contact in a way the other party can accept? Of course, this must be under the premise of respecting the other party’s wishes. If the other party resists, one must absolutely not force it, otherwise it would be causing harm again.”
A faint light flickered in Feng Lingshuang’s eyes.
In a way the other party can accept… Disguising as a man, approaching as “Jian Mingzi”… is that the way Master might be able to accept right now?
Lu Li stopped here, seeming somewhat hesitant, unsure how to phrase the next part.
Feng Lingshuang’s heart was instantly suspended.
She asked urgently, almost pleadingly, in a soft voice.
“And then? True Person, what should they do next?”
Lu Li was silent for a moment.
Gazing at the moon that seemed eternal and unchanging, he let out a soft sigh.
His voice became as faint as the night breeze.
“The rest… perhaps, can only be left to time, and… that elusive, unpredictable fate.”
“Time? Fate?”
Feng Lingshuang murmured the words, her eyes beneath the veil showing confusion and a trace of panic.
This answer was too vague, too passive! She wanted more specific, more definite guidance!
Sensing her unease, Lu Li turned his head to look at the “fellow daoist” shrouded in mystery beside him.
His tone was gentle yet carried a sense of powerlessness as he explained further.
“Yes, time, and fate.”
He spoke slowly.
“Deep harm is like a carving on a rock; it wasn’t made in a day, nor can it be erased in a day. Sincere apologies and unwavering compensation might slightly soften the hardened edges, but to truly heal the wounds and rebuild the lost trust… requires a long stretch of time to wash over and settle.”
He paused, his gaze somewhat distant, as if speaking of a universal truth, yet also seeming to carry a trace of weariness from multiple “cycles” that he himself hadn’t deeply pondered.
“And fate… is even more something that cannot be forced. The meeting, understanding, and bonding between people is inherently mysterious and ineffable. After harm, that original bond may have already been severed. Whether it can be reconnected, whether in the flow of time a position where both can find peace anew can be found… this is not something unilateral effort can decide.”
“Sometimes, letting go and allowing the other party to find peace… might also be a good choice.”
Lu Li’s final words were spoken extremely softly, yet they struck Feng Lingshuang’s heart like a heavy hammer!
Let go?
No!
Absolutely not!
How could I let go?!
I finally found Master again, learned part of the truth.
I still have so much guilt to atone for, so much kindness to repay.
I swore to protect Master!
I absolutely cannot let go!
Lu Li didn’t notice the instant stiffening of the “fellow daoist’s” body beside him or the intense fluctuations of her aura.
He was still immersed in his own thoughts as he finished his last words.
“So, in my humble opinion, exhaust all efforts to repent and make amends, attempt communication with sincerity, and then… let nature take its course. If fate is not yet exhausted, time will eventually give an answer; if fate has already ended, forcing it… will only bring deeper pain.”
“Cherishing the present moment, the time you can spend together now… might be the best farewell to past mistakes, and another form of repayment for that deep kindness.”
Lu Li’s voice faded away.
The surroundings were left with only the moan of the night wind and the faint, almost inaudible sound of their breathing.
Feng Lingshuang stood rooted to the spot, as if turned to stone.
Lu Li’s words, especially the parts about “time,” “fate,” and “letting nature take its course,” were like a bucket of cold water, dousing the fervent hope that had ignited in her upon learning her master “wasn’t afraid of women.”
It cooled her down from that mindset of being impatient for quick results, as if she wanted to immediately atone for her sins.
Yes…
I harmed Master so deeply.
That was the accumulated betrayal and pain from countless cycles!
How could it be something I could make up for and resolve in a short time with just passion and determination?
The barriers and fears in Master’s heart are scars carved by the moon, and by repeated, agonizing experiences.
They require more patience, more meticulous care to soothe.
And “fate”…
The fact that I could reunite with Master in this life… isn’t that proof that the fate between us is not yet severed?
I should cherish this rare opportunity to “continue our past fate,” not impatiently wish to reach the sky in one step.
More importantly, her master’s final words about “cherishing the present moment, the time you can spend together now” struck her like a morning bell, waking her up.
Right now, aren’t I precisely walking side by side with Master, conversing calmly, under the identity of “Jian Mingzi”?
Isn’t this a brand new beginning?
A beginning where I can carefully, cautiously re-establish a connection and slowly let Master lower his guard.
My previous thoughts were only focused on how to atone, how to compensate, but I overlooked Master’s current feelings and needs.
I cannot repeat past mistakes; I cannot force my will upon Master again.
What I should do is exactly as I am now: approach him with an equal, harmless identity as a fellow daoist, first enter his life, understand him in this life, and then, over a long stretch of time, use my actions to prove my change, to一gradually melt away those layers of ice bit by bit.
Disguise is not for deception, but to create a distance where Master can feel safe and comfortable.
Protection doesn’t necessarily require recognition.
Standing silently behind him, shielding him from wind and rain, might be the way he can best accept right now.
Thinking of all this, Feng Lingshuang’s heart—once burning with anxiety, panic, and guilt—gradually settled down.
A more resolute, more steady strength rose from within.
She lifted her head and, through the veiled hat, looked at Lu Li, who was also lost in thought beside her.
The moonlight outlined the contours of his handsome profile.
In her heart, she made another vow, but this time the oath was not so intense; it carried a resolve of slow, steady persistence.
‘Master, Lingshuang understands now. I will no longer be impatient for quick success; I will no longer crave your immediate forgiveness. In this life, I will use this identity of “Jian Mingzi” to silently stay by your side. I will use time to prove my remorse, use action to fulfill my protection. I do not ask for you to recognize me, nor for you to immediately let go of the past. I only ask to be able to… accompany you like this, to see you safe and happy.’
‘Until… until the day when fate might allow us to begin anew, in a new way.’
‘As for Gu Qingying and Fu Shangyu…’
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
‘I will not compete with them, but I will also not give them another chance to harm you in the slightest. I will watch them from the shadows, guard against them!’
The night breeze rustled the white gauze of her veiled hat, also stirring the now-different ripples in her heart.