Chapter 29

She'd said she'd only have a little, but she kept going, cup after cup.

Maybe it was because she'd been around this child so long that she found herself relaxing more than usual.

Yun Shuchen never got drunk in front of others, but tonight she drank until she was half-tipsy before setting down her cup.

Qing Zhouxue quickly cleared away the cups to stop her from having more. The half-drunk woman leaned back in her chair, still clutching her jade-white cup so tightly it was hard to pry from her hand.

Qing Zhouxue reached for it, and only then did Yun Shuchen let go.

After tidying up, she brought the medicine. "Master."

Yun Shuchen glanced at the bowl as if she hadn't noticed it, until it was nearly under her nose.

"I don't want it."

She looked up and pushed aside Qing Zhouxue's hand holding the medicine, then braced herself on the table and rose to her feet. As she stood, she swayed, and the bowl slipped from Qing Zhouxue's hand, shattering. In the same movement, Qing Zhouxue caught her, steadying her fully.

Yun Shuchen looked down at the broken shards and the puddle of spilled medicine.

Another voice, tight with worry, spoke by her ear. "You almost fell."

Yun Shuchen had lurched so badly that Qing Zhouxue had no time to set down the bowl, so she'd just dropped it to catch her.

"We'll deal with that later." Qing Zhouxue dared not let go, supporting her master as she walked toward the inner room. Once she'd seen her safely seated on the bed, she tried to pull away, but Yun Shuchen caught her sleeve.

"Don't go."

She tugged her forward, making Qing Zhouxue bend down. "Master, I wasn't going to brew more medicine—just to make you some hangover soup."

"Hangover soup?"

Qing Zhouxue felt warm breath at her neck, then heard the woman say softly, "I drank to get drunk. What are you trying to do, Qing'er?"

"Fine." Qing Zhouxue paused, playing along. "Would Master like to sleep?"

Yun Shuchen fell silent for a moment. "Can't sleep."

"But it's time to rest." Qing Zhouxue glanced at the moon outside—round and pale in the night sky, like a white lotus seed.

"Can't sleep."

Yun Shuchen frowned, repeating herself.

"I'm a bit hot."

She lifted the collar of her robe, loosening it a little.

Qing Zhouxue's gaze somehow landed on that small patch of fair skin. It struck her as familiar—

Like the white of a snowy night, when heaven and earth stretch vast and blank, and through a cracked window you glimpse a sliver of that whiteness, enough to imagine the rest.

Her heart stirred. Qing Zhouxue couldn't help reaching out, her fingertip brushing the edge of the loosened collar. Perhaps because Yun Shuchen was born delicate, even that light touch left a red mark like a fingerprint.

Yun Shuchen caught her finger, drawing in a soft breath. "Don't touch."

She kept holding it as she sank back weakly into the bed, only letting go once she was settled.

Qing Zhouxue knelt by the bedside, struggling to remove her outer robe. Since Yun Shuchen had already bathed and wore no socks or shoes, Qing Zhouxue frowned at the sight and took her ankle to tuck her under the covers. The touch seemed to tickle her—her leg shrank back, and she turned over.

"Master?"

Yun Shuchen turned her back, throwing off the blanket that had been forced over her, eyes shut, brows furrowed.

It was odd—usually when people got tipsy, even the quiet and reserved ones would show some change, becoming silly or wild or drowsy.

But Yun Shuchen, normally so gentle and kind, turned especially cold when drunk—spoke little, in short phrases—and yet wouldn't sleep.

Seeing how much she fought the blanket, Qing Zhouxue had no choice but to fetch a thinner one and drape it lightly over her.

She snuffed out the lamp and let down the beaded curtain.

Just as she was about to leave, a soft murmur held her back. "I want to eat grapes."

Qing Zhouxue paused with her hand on the doorframe. It was already late, not a time for snacking.

But today was a festival.

And a festival ought to be perfect—just like all the festival eves she'd known before, when even with limited means, the red paper for the word "fortune" had to be pasted, and the firecrackers had to be set off. None of it was ever omitted.

Because of Yun Shuchen's tastes, grapes were always placed in the fruit bowls on Heyi Peak.

Qing Zhouxue grabbed a handful, used a spell to remove any dust, then, not fully convinced, soaked them in water and rinsed them properly several times.

She carried them back to Yun Shuchen's room.

At some point, Yun Shuchen had sat up again, leaning against the headboard, her brows cold. Perhaps her head was heavy, for she pressed a hand to her temple.

Qing Zhouxue's voice unconsciously softened, carrying through the night air like a gentle breeze. "You can eat now."

She picked up a grape, paused, then placed it in her disciple's palm, lifting her gaze with a hint of indifference. "I don't eat grapes unless they're peeled."

Qing Zhouxue watched her expression of distaste, yet inexplicably found it endearing.

In the past, when her master had been too gentle, she'd always felt an insurmountable distance between them.

She didn't know how Yun Shuchen, with her five hundred years of experience, saw her. Perhaps Qing Zhouxue was just another brief encounter in her long life—she must have had many, meeting people and parting with them.

But in Qing Zhouxue's eyes, her master was the most vivid ten years of her eighteen.

Yun Shuchen's rare childlike pettiness gave Qing Zhouxue a reason to take care of her, to feel less expendable. She didn't understand her master's worries, but at least she could try to ease that thread of melancholy—maybe she could thin it out a little.

Late at night, one tends to overthink. She pushed the thoughts aside, peeled a grape, rolled up her sleeves, and carefully fed it to Yun Shuchen's lips.

Yun Shuchen stared at the grape, and only after confirming it was peeled did she eat it, with a dignified, condescending air.

Qing Zhouxue's hand, stained with grape juice, accidentally brushed her lip.

Yun Shuchen slowly lifted her hand to the faint coolness at her mouth, as if sensing something unusual.

As the bitter aftertaste of wine was finally washed away by the cool sweetness and slight tartness, her furrowed brows relaxed. When she opened her eyes again, she watched her disciple, still peeling steadily, and the drowsiness crept over her like a shadow.

Qing Zhouxue, head bowed, carefully peeled the whole plate of grapes. When she looked up—her master had slipped down at some point, breathing evenly, fast asleep.

Her hand paused. The plate of grapes suddenly felt clumsy in her grip.

There were occasional surprises, but when they involved Yun Shuchen, even the mundane moments carried a hint of charm.

Qing Zhouxue had always had a good temper, and she felt no regret. She ate two or three herself, leaving the rest to waste.

She tucked the thin blanket more securely around her, and after making sure everything was in place, she tiptoed out of Yun Shuchen's room.

As she closed the door fully, she couldn't help but glance back once.

Good night, Master.