It had been so long ago that she could hardly remember the details anymore. She only remembered that every day and night she immersed herself in mastering the Ji family’s unique skill of crafting the "Linglong Houses" (miniature dwellings of extraordinary craftsmanship). She worked tirelessly, day and night, neglecting sleep and food. Her family was small, with few members, and even fewer girls. Her mother had died young due to illness, and by the time she was nearly fifteen, only she and her elderly father were left to rely on each other.
The Ji family’s craft was famous across the land, so they never lacked for food or clothing, but the decline of the family was undeniable. On his deathbed, her father said, “Tan Yin, you should marry into a good family. This craft defies the natural order. Don’t practice it anymore, and don’t pass it on to your children. Our family has reached this point because we are under divine punishment.”
She listened, but the words never sank into her heart. As a daughter of the Ji family, mastering their craft was second nature to her. She was so passionate and absorbed in it that she never considered marriage or love.
Her skills surpassed even those of her father. She could create Linglong Houses small enough to fit into a sleeve, or large enough to cover vast lands.
In this world, only immortals could open celestial realms, but to become an immortal, one had to endure the trial of heavenly lightning. The Ji family, however, were mere mortals. Possessing the ability to open a celestial realm without undergoing the trials of the immortals was an act against the natural order.
Like everyone else in the family, she fell ill with an incurable disease. There was no remedy.
Her father’s dying words echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t stop. At the time, she was working on a new creation—a marvel unlike any before it. Unlike the Linglong Houses, which could expand or shrink, she was attempting to craft something that could contain all things within.
At the age of seventeen, she finally succeeded in creating four extraordinary Qiankun Pouches. But immediately after, she coughed up blood and quietly passed away.
Tan Yin opened her eyes. Outside the window, the sun shone brightly, and the world was full of flowers and willows—an unfamiliar scene.
She stared blankly for a moment before remembering that this was the residence of the Grand Monk. The man was strange, and so was the place he lived, called the Hexagonal Hall. The architecture of the Youhu clan was always unique, and the Hexagonal Hall was no exception—it was half-buried underground. The building had three floors, with the second floor barely receiving sunlight, but fortunately, the bedrooms were on the third floor.
In front of the Hexagonal Hall, there were no pines or cypresses, but instead, a vast expanse of celestial flowers bloomed. The flowers were as white as snow, each the size of a palm, with white stamens. She didn’t know what species they were. To the south of the hall was a small lake, its shore bright with colorful flowers and green willows, in stark contrast to the white flowers in front of the hall.
Tan Yin had no interest in admiring the unfamiliar scenery. Last night, it seemed, she had dreamed.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had dreamed. Now that she was unexpectedly alive again, this body had allowed her to dream.
It was such a familiar yet strange feeling.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, only to see the window being unceremoniously thrown open from the outside. The Grand Monk, dressed in black, stood there, excitedly waving at her.
Puzzled, Tan Yin walked over. Yuan Zhong rested his chin in his hand, staring at her with great interest. One look, and he was shocked—his new maid didn’t lie down to sleep but sat cross-legged on the bed as if she were practicing some mysterious art.
“Do you sleep sitting up?”
Tan Yin scratched her head, thinking for a moment before stammering, “Well… because I admire the immortals, I try to practice some cultivation myself…”
Was she truly this simple, or was she just pretending to be dense?
Yuan Zhong smirked mischievously, “I’ve never heard of an immortal who sleeps sitting up. Aren’t your legs numb? Come on, I’ll help you down.”
He waited for Tan Yin to react with either shy refusal or indignant defiance. After all, the Grand Monk of the Youhu clan was known for his flirtatious behavior, especially with beautiful women. His persistence in the face of rejection was legendary, and even the old monk Xinmao could do nothing about it.
But to his surprise, Tan Yin quickly shook her head, then nimbly pushed herself up onto the window frame. Yuan Zhong watched in astonishment as she lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. His gaze wandered from her elegant face to her shoulders and hair, and finally to her hand—what a straightforward girl! He suddenly felt as though he had lost the first round, with all the witty words he had prepared now useless.
“Your Highness, Grand Monk,” Tan Yin’s calm voice now sounded somewhat unsettling in his ears, “What do you need me to do?”
In truth, Yuan Zhong didn’t know. As the Grand Monk, he was always on the move, especially with the recent tensions between the Youhu clan and the War Ghost clan. The elders often gave him unsavory tasks. In two full cycles of sixty years, he had never had a maid, nor had he needed one, and the elders had never suggested it.
But this time was different.
Yuan Zhong propped his chin on his hand, thinking for a long while. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he smiled at her, “Shall we play chess?”
Tan Yin hesitated, “I… I don’t know how.”
Yuan Zhong’s smile didn’t falter, “Compose poetry?”
“…I can’t do that either.”
“How about playing the qin and se (traditional Chinese musical instruments) together?”
“I still can’t…”
Yuan Zhong sighed, “What can you do?”
At the mention of her skills, Tan Yin’s face lit up. “I’m skilled in many crafts! If anything is broken around here, I can fix it better than new! Oh, and that carriage outside—” She pointed to a magnificent golden carriage parked behind the courtyard. “I could check if any parts need repair or replacement.”
That was his beloved carriage, used exclusively by the Grand Monk, and yet she brazenly offered to meddle with it. Yuan Zhong burst into laughter. Whether she was genuinely simple or pretending, she certainly was talented.
“I don’t need you to fix my carriage,” he replied, equally direct.
Tan Yin lowered her head, almost in frustration. She had never imagined that being a maid would require skills in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. After thinking for a while, she finally murmured, “I’m willing to learn. I’ll work hard to learn how to play chess and such.”
Yuan Zhong chuckled, then suddenly leaned forward, playfully pinching her delicately shaped chin. In a teasing tone, he said, “It’s so hot today. How about you help me with a bath?”
He waited to see her lose her composure, but to his surprise, this dense little maid simply froze—not in the shy, angry way he expected, but rather in a very considerate and thoughtful manner. “Is that really okay? For someone like me to see the noble skin of Your Highness, the Grand Monk? If you don’t mind, I’m willing.”
“…”
Most of the Youhu clan lived on this secluded mountain, not far from Yuan City. It was said that long ago, during the clan’s golden age, they never allowed mortals to enter and perform menial tasks. At that time, the boundary between mortals and immortals was very clear. But after the gods had disappeared, even the Youhu clan, who once served them, began to decline. Their numbers dwindled, and because the mortals below the mountain admired the immortals, they gradually began selecting mortals to perform menial labor in their heavenly realm. By now, it had become a routine affair, occurring every few years.
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