Chapter 9

“Uncle Si...” I stammered softly.

Wen Chao Siming smiled kindly, the golden threads on his sleeves shimmering faintly. Red strings wound around each of his ten fingers, swaying gently as he moved his hands.

For a moment, I recalled that strange dream—the figure in it also had a red string wrapped around his middle finger. Those hands always appeared in awkward scenes that made me blush. I lowered my head, cheeks burning, afraid Siming would notice my discomfort. Wen Chao Siming chuckled, “I’ve been busy with other matters and missed several of your birthdays. I haven’t even prepared a proper gift.”

I hastened to say it was all right, then remembered something and took the longevity lock from my chest. Strangely, the lock that had been warm just moments ago was no longer hot. The lock hung from a slender silver chain. Hesitating, I asked, “Uncle Wen, do you know why it kept getting warm?”

Siming squinted, examining it for a while before reaching out to take the lock from me. I had worn this longevity lock close to my body for years, so it still carried my body heat. He gently rubbed the silver lock. Since I couldn’t remove it, I lowered my head slightly to let him better observe the lock he had given me. This brought us uncomfortably close.

Embarrassed, I recalled the day seven years ago when Wen Chao Siming had visited Jiuzhong Mountain. I was playing alone in the back hills, clutching a bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers. I refused to walk, so Baize—the auspicious beast—picked me up on his back. Riding Baize, I ran joyfully all over the mountain until I was exhausted and fell asleep on his back. Baize then carried me slowly back.

When I excitedly knocked on my father’s study door, I saw a man I had never met before sitting inside. I stared curiously at his white hair. Father called him “Siming.” The man called Siming smiled and handed me a longevity lock. Uneasy, I glanced at my father and saw he did not forbid it.

Siming did some finger calculations and smiled, “What a coincidence, it’s the young lady’s birthday. I’m in a hurry and didn’t bring any proper gifts. How about I give you a fate charm instead?”

I didn’t quite understand what he meant by “fate charm,” but I thought for a moment and stuffed the flowers in my hand into his chest pocket, saying seriously, “Then I’ll give this to you.”

It was probably the first time Siming had been given flowers. He was slightly stunned, then smiled warmly, “Thank you for your gift.”

Father said Siming governs the myriad causes and fates in the world. I didn’t know why such a powerful person had come to Jiuzhong Mountain, but he was right—the day was indeed my birthday. Even my three elder brothers, far away at the ends of the earth, sent letters back.

Suddenly, Siming made a small sound of surprise.

“The hexagrams of Kan and Li are intertwined, heavenly joy approaches the palace, vines and marshes confine…” Siming fiddled with the red strings in his hand. When he looked at me again, his gaze seemed to hold something more. I hid behind my father. After a pause, Siming said, “Celestial Lord…”

“No need to discuss further,” the Celestial Lord replied indifferently. He helped fasten my longevity lock. Uneasy, I moved my neck slightly. Siming indeed said nothing more.

“This longevity lock is a fragment of fate I separated, but it no longer belongs to me. It is now closely connected to you and can even glimpse your destiny… In other words, it can help you find the person whose fate is tightly bound to yours,” Siming explained.

Bound closely to my destiny?

I was puzzled. Who else but my family? I roughly understood Siming’s meaning: the lock wasn’t warm just because I was near it, but because someone nearby had a fate closely linked to mine.

“What kind of fate?” I asked curiously.

Siming looked at me a few times before smiling kindly, “Romantic fate.”

I slowly uttered, “Ah,” as a blush spread from my ears down my neck. I murmured, “Can it still find them?”

“That depends on heaven’s will,” Siming said, brushing off his sleeve as he put my longevity lock away. I was still immersed in the word “romantic fate,” oblivious to his action.

---

Siming invited me to visit his carriage, but I had to wait for Senior Sister Yingzhen, who had said she’d be back soon. Yet hours passed with no sign of her. More importantly, I was currently in a “runaway” state. If elders caught me outside, it would be bad enough, but what if Siming took me back to my father, and Father sent me back to Jiuzhong Mountain?

“Senior Sister!” I spotted a figure in red from afar. Yingzhen quickly came to my side, offering a polite but distant smile. “Wen Chao Siming.”

Siming laughed warmly, his gaze as clear as a mountain spring. His frost-white hair seemed like snow, and his aura was pure. When he spoke with Yingzhen, he resembled a true immortal.

Only after he left did Yingzhen ask what had happened. After I explained everything, she stroked her chin with a peculiar smile. “Who would have thought that coming down the mountain would really find you a romantic fate… Ha, those mountain boys are going to be heartbroken and hanging themselves again.”

“Senior Sister?”

She cleared her throat, pressing a fist to her lips. “Come on, come on. Aren’t you curious about that Li Zheguang? I looked up the Hundred Families list for you. The arena ‘Heaven Rank Yi No. 101’ is his. Let’s go see the excitement.”

The divine birds perched at the market gate attracted a crowd, but no one dared approach because beside them stood a youth in ochre robes with a gloomy expression. Suddenly, the divine birds chirped crisply, and Siming arrived, feeding them a few spirit pills.

Yan Sheng said expressionlessly, “Where did you sneak off to?”

Siming replied seriously, “Meeting an old friend, lost track of time.”

Yan Sheng didn’t buy his excuse. “That little thief can’t have gotten far. He carries one of your ‘One Thread Bonds,’ weighed down by countless causes and effects. I don’t believe he can suppress fate... Stop smiling! It’s your ‘life thread’ that was stolen. How can you still be laughing?”

Inside the golden carriage was its own small world. Siming peeled a grape, red threads faintly visible around his fingers. But on closer inspection, the red threads on his ten fingers were incomplete—one finger lacked a red string. “Timing, location, and people... This thief is no ordinary person. Escaping unharmed from the Fate Pavilion must have taken incredible luck.”

“Heaven is helping him,” Siming smiled slightly. “That red thread probably can’t be retrieved.”

The Fate Pavilion possessed a treasure passed down through each Siming: it could control cause and effect, observe fate, and sever fate threads. It was called the “One Thread Bond.” Siming had refined it for centuries to obtain ten red threads—three birth lines, three death lines, three life lines, and one unnamed line.

Yan Sheng’s eyes glinted fiercely. “Daring to steal from under fate itself—such audacity in a mere child.”

Siming had been resting on his couch but suddenly rose, “This is bad.”

Yet his smile remained unchanged. “The ‘One Thread Bond’ can create illusions, imitate countless fate charms, even conjure a ‘romantic fate’ out of thin air.”

If no true affinity existed, the “One Thread Bond” could fabricate a “match made in heaven,” forcibly turning a bitter melon sweet, binding two unrelated people together.

Siming sighed, “Heaven is helping you, so why can’t you see reason...”

The so-called “Contest of Disciples” was a tournament where everyone fought together on the arena. Whoever was first knocked off was eliminated. The victor received prizes ranging from treasures and manuals to money and spirit medicine. Every year, it was a display of each disciple’s skills and cunning.

Li Zheguang was a rogue cultivator with no sect or clan. When he yawned and jumped onto the stage, most people doubted whether such a smooth-talking youth could defend the arena. This wasn’t a literary test where gentlemen only spoke and never fought.

I blended into the crowd, quietly observing the protagonist. He was handsome with delicate features and a rebellious air of indifference. His pupils were deep black but clear, his figure tall and slender, and he had tucked a silver chopstick oddly in his hair.

Perhaps sensing someone watching, he looked puzzled toward the audience. I quickly averted my gaze. Soon, a muscular cultivator came on stage—his arms wide as two of Li Zheguang’s. Li Zheguang folded his fan and smiled with a bow, “May I ask your honorable name, brother?”

The body cultivator bowed in return. “Du Zikao of the Jade Capital Sect. Please instruct me.”

“So you’re a Daoist from the Jade Capital Sect.” Li Zheguang shifted his feet, dodging Du’s punch, and chatted casually, “Brother Du, I’ve heard your sect advocates a pure and ascetic life. On the mountain, even the chickens are pure and single-minded, and the tigers are vegetarian. Could you enlighten me? If that’s truly the case, I might consider joining another sect…”

The crowd murmured. Li Zheguang was quite arrogant to challenge the Jade Capital Sect like that.

Sure enough, Du Zikao’s face darkened, and he struck harder. Li Zheguang had a trait: no matter how bad things got, he’d vent first with words—a loose tongue.

“By the way, Brother Du, does the Jade Capital Sect really have no kitchen? What if one hasn’t undergone the fasting ritual—is it dangerous? I heard someone who joined your sect lost ten pounds from hunger and was unrecognizable to his own mother when he came home…”

I couldn’t help whispering to Senior Sister Yingzhen, “Jiuzhong Mountain’s food is better than Jade Capital’s.”

Then a strange feeling made me look up, just catching Li Zheguang’s eyes shifting away. I hesitated—did he just look at me?

Yingzhen watched the two men on stage and suddenly smiled, “This kid is interesting.”

Just then, Li Zheguang abruptly stopped and lightly pushed, causing Du Zikao to tumble off the stage. Dusty and dazed, Du stood up, staring in confusion. Li Zheguang offered a somewhat awkward bow and a bright smile, “Brother Du, you’ve honored me.”

The midday sun was scorching—though it didn’t affect cultivators, watching several matches made me dizzy. Yingzhen remembered my recent illness and helped me find a place to sit down. Leaning on her, I yawned repeatedly.

Drowsy, I rested my head on Yingzhen’s shoulder. She stroked my hair and sighed, “Little junior sister, with a master like you, how could your teacher trust leaving you with others?”

I recalled Father’s words and sighed deeply. Yingzhen asked if I was troubled because I couldn’t find a suitable dual cultivation partner. I looked up at her. Perhaps it was my imagination, but her gaze seemed strange.

“Little junior sister, if I take you to choose a furnace master, do you think the teacher would strike me down?” She seemed even more excited than me.

Yingzhen took my hand, her expression serious but tinged with playful curiosity, “Forget it. Counting on those mountain boys is hopeless. Xiwei, if the teacher asks later, you mustn’t betray me.”

I uttered a surprised sound. Yingzhen seemed to have made up her mind. She mysteriously pulled out a jade token, “The ‘Flower’ token from the Wind and Moon Tower—it cost me a few bottles of aged wine to get it. We’ll choose only the best. What do you think of the sea kingdom’s merfolk? Their pure Yang bodies are not bad either…”

I stomped my foot, blushing furiously, “Senior Sister!”