Zijing lived in the best room at the inn, a place usually reserved for cultivators who sought peace. Yet, despite his high standards, he seemed to enjoy the simple life. My tribe had strategically chosen this moment to approach him, using me as the perfect pretext for a chance encounter.
But now I was thinking, how was I supposed to meet Zijing? How was I supposed to deepen my relationship with him? It seemed impossible to imagine myself ever influencing someone like him.
I glanced into the mirror and studied my reflection—a frail figure, looking like a woman barely in her twenties. I knew that to Zijing, I would appear as insignificant as dust. My heart filled with both longing and despair.
“Remember,” my master once said, “to act humbly, as if you are seeking guidance.” This wasn’t just a performance of humility; I had to act sincerely, convincingly, to avoid suspicion. With my master’s instructions in mind, I prepared to ask Zijing for assistance, but I was terribly anxious. My body felt stiff, and my mind was in disarray.
Before heading to the inn, I stopped by a small vendor and bought a pair of cheap chopsticks. I held them tightly, thinking they might calm my nerves.
At the inn, I planned my approach meticulously, carefully preparing my words. Zijing was about seventeen or eighteen years old, but his aura carried a maturity far beyond his years. He seemed impossible to approach, his calm demeanor masking his strength.
When I finally entered the inn, I noticed Zijing sitting quietly in the corner, writing something. It was the first time I had seen him up close, and my heart raced uncontrollably.
I waited until late in the evening, yet no one entered or exited the inn. I wondered whether my family had provided false information. To pass the time, I stretched my legs, trying to relieve my stiff muscles, while grabbing some snacks to nibble on.
Just as I was distracted, I heard the sound of a door creaking open. I looked up and saw him. Zijing came downstairs, pausing briefly to glance around, but his eyes didn’t linger on me. He quickly left the inn.
Meanwhile, I sat frozen in place, unable to conceal my nervousness under his calm gaze. How could this young man carry such an extraordinary presence?
I wasn’t familiar with how the people of the West Jiang Tribe handled themselves in public, nor did I have much business with them. But judging from how others treated Zijing, it was clear he exuded a natural air of authority that few could match.
I followed him out, cautiously keeping my distance. At the same time, I began recalling the instructions I had been given. It was hard not to feel intimidated by the task ahead. Sending me to approach Zijing felt like an impossible mission. My family would have struggled with such a request even if they had sent their most capable members. Estimating half a year of effort, they’d barely managed to secure his temporary cooperation. As for me, I had nothing to offer.
Zijing went to a food stall and ordered a few inexpensive dishes, their modest prices standing in stark contrast to his status. Cultivators rarely ate casually, but Zijing seemed indifferent. His behavior was truly unpredictable.
0 Comments