Qingyun Sect sat atop the main peak of the Cangwu Mountains, perpetually shrouded in mist and clouds, appearing from afar like an immortal palace suspended in the sky.
Luo Qingci sat on the stone steps outside the Task Hall, holding a piece of freshly bought osmanthus cake, eating it slowly.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the gaps in the bamboo grove, casting dappled patches of light and shadow on her white outer disciple robe.
The osmanthus cake was a daily limited-edition snack from the sect’s dining hall, made with osmanthus honey unique to Cangwu Mountain.
It was soft, sticky, and sweet—one bite filled your mouth with the fragrance of osmanthus.
She loved that flavor.
A long time ago, when her mother was still alive, every autumn her mother would personally make osmanthus cake for her.
Back then, she was still the young master of the Luo Family, wearing an embroidered silk little robe, her hair tied up in a high ponytail.
She would lie on the kitchen threshold, watching her mother knead dough, mix honey, and sprinkle osmanthus petals.
Her mother would smile and hand her the first piece of osmanthus cake, saying, “Be careful, it’s hot.”
Those were among the few warm memories she had.
After her mother died, no one ever made osmanthus cake for her again.
The osmanthus cake from the sect’s dining hall tasted similar, but it was ultimately missing something.
What it lacked, she couldn’t quite put into words—maybe it was missing something, maybe it had something extra.
Still, she bought a piece every day.
She would sit on the stone steps, eat it slowly, and consider it a way to start the day off not too badly.
“Junior Sister Luo.”
A voice came from above.
Luo Qingci looked up and saw a young man in inner disciple robes standing a few steps higher, smiling at her.
He had a fair face, clean-shaven, with regular features and a perfectly appropriate smile—he seemed kind.
She recognized him.
Zhao Ping, late Foundation Establishment, ranked within the top thirty inner disciples of the sect, well-liked and something of a minor celebrity.
“Senior Brother Zhao.”
Luo Qingci swallowed the last bite of osmanthus cake, stood up, brushed off her robe’s hem—though there was nothing there—and offered a proper smile.
Zhao Ping walked down the steps, naturally stopping at a close but not too close distance.
He first asked how her recent cultivation was going, then mentioned that the Grand Competition was approaching, that this time the sect’s inner disciple slots were limited and competition fierce, and asked if she felt confident.
Luo Qingci listened, occasionally replying with an “mm-hmm” or nodding.
She knew what Zhao Ping was trying to do.
He was just looking at her pretty face and her decent cultivation talent, trying to build a connection.
She had seen this kind of thing far too many times.
Since she was fourteen, senior and junior brothers had been constantly approaching her.
Some genuinely thought she was pretty, some were after the Luo Family’s reputation, and others… were after something else.
She remembered last month when a Foundation Establishment senior brother got drunk and said publicly at the sect’s night gathering, “A beauty like Junior Sister Luo—if I could dual cultivate with her once, I’d trade ten years off my life for it.”
At the time, people around him laughed, some frowned, and some secretly looked at her.
She smiled and said to that senior brother, “Senior Brother, you’ve had too much to drink. Go rest.”
Her tone was gentle, her expression kind, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
The next day, after sobering up, that senior brother came to apologize.
She smiled and said, “It’s fine, Senior Brother didn’t mean it,” and sent him off.
She really wasn’t angry.
She had heard that kind of talk too many times.
If she got angry at every remark, she would have died of anger long ago.
Besides, she couldn’t beat a Foundation Establishment cultivator anyway.
She was a Qi Refining Peak expert, yes, but that was Foundation Establishment—and late Foundation Establishment at that.
Would she go looking for death?
Avoid the sharp edge, endure when necessary.
She understood that principle.
Zhao Ping was still talking, shifting from cultivation to his plans after the Grand Competition, casually mentioning, “I heard that after the Grand Competition, quite a few scions from noble families will come to our sect for exchange. I’ll introduce you to a few then—it’ll be good for your future.”
“Thank you, Senior Brother Zhao.”
Luo Qingci responded with a smile, showing neither interest nor impatience.
The timing was just right.
Zhao Ping chatted a bit longer, and seeing that she never took the bait, finally tactfully took his leave.
Before he left, he still added, “Junior Sister Luo, let’s have a meal together sometime.”
“Sure.”
Zhao Ping left.
Luo Qingci stood on the stone steps outside the Task Hall, watching his silhouette disappear at the end of the bamboo path.
The smile on her face faded little by little.
She lowered her head and looked at her hands.
Long, slender fingers, knuckles clearly defined, nails neatly trimmed.
Before she was ten, these hands had held a sword, written characters, and practiced cultivation.
After ten, it was the same—holding a sword, writing, cultivating.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
Luo Qingci withdrew her hands, turned around, and walked toward the residential area for inner disciples.
As she crossed the main road of the sect, she ran into several groups of fellow disciples.
“Hello, Senior Sister Luo.”
A young outer disciple girl blushed as she greeted her.
“Hello.”
Luo Qingci smiled and nodded.
“Junior Sister Luo, tomorrow a few of us senior brothers are going to the north side of Cangwu Mountain to gather herbs. Would you like to join?”
A Foundation Establishment senior brother stood by the roadside, his smile eager.
“Thank you, Senior Brother Qian, but I have other matters tomorrow. Next time.”
“Then it’s settled—next time for sure.”
“Sure.”
One after another.
Luo Qingci walked far away before she finally let the smile drop completely.
Sometimes she wondered: if she didn’t have this face, would these people still come flocking?
Definitely not.
From ages ten to fourteen, when she had lost her cultivation and her looks hadn’t yet bloomed, that was the quietest period of her time at Qingyun Sect.
No one came to schmooze, no one came to curry favor, no one said those cringeworthy things to her face.
Those years had been very peaceful.
Luo Qingci returned to her residence.
It was a small courtyard in the most remote corner of the outer disciple area.
The location was isolated, the spiritual energy slightly inferior to the main courtyard, but the trade-off was peace and quiet.
She pushed open the courtyard gate.
Inside grew an osmanthus tree—one her mother had personally planted in her courtyard when she was three years old.
Later, when she left the Luo Family to come to Qingyun Sect, she took nothing but a branch from that tree with her.
Three years ago, she had casually stuck that branch into the ground here.
To her surprise, it had taken root, and now it had grown into a small tree.
Under the tree stood a stone table and two stone stools.
On the table rested a pot of tea that had long gone cold.
Luo Qingci sat down on a stone stool, reached out and touched the tender new leaves on the osmanthus tree.
The corners of her mouth curled up—the first genuine smile she had shown all day.
She sat under the tree for a while, then took a letter out of her storage pouch.
It had arrived yesterday.
“Qingci, it’s been a long time. You are now seventeen, and the matter of the marriage contract should not be delayed any further. Young Master Xiao is of similar age. Your father has already discussed it with Old Master Xiao, and we have settled on a date for the wedding. Cultivate diligently at the sect and do not worry.”
From her father.
His tone was like that of a stranger…
It hadn’t always been like this.
Then, when she turned ten, that accident happened.
He had come to see her once.
He stood by the bed and looked at her for a long time.
Finally, he said one sentence: “You can’t change back?”
She nodded.
Her father fell silent for a long time, then turned and left.
After that, she never again received a letter from home that carried any warmth.
Luo Qingci held the letter paper over a candle and burned it.
Right now, there was only one thing on her mind: annulling the marriage.
She had never met that Young Master Xiao, but she had heard of him.
He was a waste who had been stuck at Qi Refining Layer 1 for nearly ten years.
A waste and a waste together—maybe they would be a good match.
But no matter what kind of person he was, she didn’t want to marry him.
It wasn’t rebellion.
It wasn’t spite.
She simply didn’t know what identity she was supposed to use to get married.
Man? Woman?
Neither.
She was nothing.
Before she was ten, she was the young master of the Luo Family.
She wore men’s clothes, learned sword techniques, and when her father took her to meet guests, he introduced her as “my son.”
She had playmates, followers, a master who taught her cultivation techniques.
She had an entire pre-arranged future—inherit the family estate, bring glory to the clan, take a wife and have children.
Then everything ended on that rainy day.
An accident.
Spiritual power riot.
Meridian severance.
Cultivation loss.
And even more terrifying—her body had changed.
When she woke up, she found she had turned into a girl.
The physician said it was a body mutation caused by the spiritual power riot, and it was irreversible.
Irreversible.
Three words, lightly spoken, sentenced her for life.
The first few years were the hardest.
Cultivators tended to mature early, and those ingrained habits had been etched deep in her heart.
She didn’t know how to walk, how to talk, how to sit, how to stand.
She had spent ten years learning “how to be a man,” and suddenly none of that was right anymore.
The way the clan members looked at her changed too.
Before, it was “young master.”
After, it was “that thing.”
Someone said right in front of her: “A perfectly fine young master—how did he turn into this?”
Some gossiped behind her back: “What do you think she is now—male or female? Neither male nor female. Disgusting.”
And others “kindly” advised her: “Since you can’t change back, just be a good girl. Find a nice family and marry someone—it’s still a way out.”
Marry someone.
As if her only way out was those two words.
That was why she had run away—to Qingyun Sect, where few people knew about her history.
But deep down, she was also a little unwilling…
Two people who had never met—why should they be bound together for life?
And besides, she had reached Qi Refining Peak in three years—that was a bit of a genius feat.
Why should she marry a waste?
Luo Qingci folded the letter.
She was starting to want to annul the marriage.
She decided to write a letter to that Young Master Xiao, whom she had never met.
Since she wanted to annul the engagement, she had to start with courtesy before force.
First, she would probe his attitude.
If he also wanted to annul, then naturally everyone would be happy.
If he was unwilling, she would go to the Xiao Family in person to negotiate.
She picked up her brush, thought for a moment, and wrote:
“To Young Master Xiao, under the desk…”
Halfway through, she crumpled the paper.
Too formal.
She spread a new sheet:
“Brother Xiao…”
Crumpled again.
Too familiar.
She wasn’t close to him at all.
The third time, she simply skipped the opening and wrote directly:
“We have never met—why force ourselves together? If you also feel this way, I hope to receive a reply, so we can discuss a plan for dissolution and each seek our own freedom.”
After writing it, she looked it over, felt it was still not quite right, and crumpled it again.
If she unilaterally annulled the engagement, she would have to offer some compensation…
Better to go in person later and annul it herself… And do it in her own name—Luo Qingci’s name—face to face with that Xiao Han, and put an end to this absurd marriage contract.
She didn’t want to get married.
After she won first place in the Grand Competition, took a Golden Core Great Power as her master, successfully broke through to Foundation Establishment, then she could act a little coquettish toward her senior brothers and sisters, gather some cultivation resources, and go annul the engagement…
Yes, act coquettish.
After all, she really was very beautiful.
She knew how to act cute—she understood that much.