From that moment on, the second senior brother seemed to view me as nothing more than a child who needed constant supervision. He acted like a nagging mother, scolding me at every opportunity. Though his words were harsh, his actions betrayed a faint sense of responsibility.
He didn’t let me go hungry, though the meals he prepared were so plain and bland that eating them felt like a punishment. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway—my desire for food wasn’t strong. What I truly craved, however, was something far more specific: his blood.
I knew I couldn’t directly ask for it, so I began devising a plan. I needed to create a situation where his emotions would lead him to act on impulse and shed blood. To that end, I came up with several strategies. One involved “accidentally” injuring myself.
In my mind, the plan seemed flawless: I would stage a minor mishap, inflict a small cut on myself, and then put on my most pitiful expression while exclaiming, “Master, save me!” With luck, his instincts might kick in, and he’d accidentally prick his finger or something, spilling even a single drop of blood. That drop would be enough for me to taste its essence.
It was, in hindsight, not the most dignified plan.
But no matter how carefully I plotted, day after day, the heavens seemed to mock my efforts. Each time I found myself alone, the other disciples would miraculously appear out of nowhere, meditating in the courtyard or enjoying the mountain breeze. I had no chance to enact my schemes without an audience.
Then, one fateful morning, as I wandered near the cliffside, I spotted Qing Chen standing alone in the distance. His white robes fluttered gently in the breeze as he gazed out at the endless sea of clouds below. My heart skipped a beat at the sight.
Seizing the opportunity, I clutched my chest, let out a soft cry, and collapsed to the ground. “Ah!” I yelped dramatically as I landed. Immediately, I grabbed my ankle and hissed in pain, pretending to be injured.
Hearing the sound, Qing Chen turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on me. His expression remained calm, as though he had seen through my charade in an instant. He walked over slowly, stopping a few steps away. “What happened?” he asked, his tone neither warm nor cold.
“I… I tripped,” I said, lowering my head to feign embarrassment. I bit my lip, squeezing out a few tears for effect, and reached out as if asking for help.
He stood there silently for a moment before crouching down and placing his hand lightly on my ankle. With a faint glow of energy, the pain I had been pretending to feel disappeared entirely. He then straightened up and said, “Be careful next time,” before turning and walking away.
I sat there dumbfounded, realizing that my plan had failed spectacularly. Qing Chen had seen through my act and responded with calm indifference, refusing to give me any opening to carry out my scheme.
It was then I realized: Qing Chen wasn’t someone who could be easily manipulated. To him, my tricks were nothing more than the childish antics of a desperate spirit.
I sighed deeply. If I wanted to survive in this place, I would need to rethink my approach entirely.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. “Crack!” The deafening sound echoed in my ears as if it were right next to me. The sudden flash startled me, and I instinctively grabbed at my sleeve. As I looked down, I noticed a tear in the fabric.
“Oh no,” I muttered. Turning my sleeve over, I sighed. “Looks like I’ve made another hole in it…”
“Well, maybe it happened when Second Senior Brother helped me hang the robes out to dry yesterday,” I thought aloud. Seizing the opportunity, I walked over to Qing Chen, my face full of innocent intent, and tugged lightly at his sleeve.
“Um, could you ask Junior Sister Qing Shan to help me sew this up?”
“…”
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