Chapter 002

It had always been this way since the beginning.

When Zhaoxue was very young, Madam’s health was poor and she didn’t have the strength to take care of her. At that time, the servants at home neglected her, and coupled with Zhaoxue’s frail health, she was always the one left out. Only when her eldest sister had a lighter academic schedule and returned home during holidays could she spare some attention for Zhaoxue.

The boy from next door would often climb over the wall into the Shen household to seek out Zhaoxue for company. The two of them were both frequent users of medicine, so they shared some common ground—though most of that came from Zhaoyang.

“Today, Big Sister gave me candy when I took my medicine.”

“I got two pieces.”

“She also taught me how to play chess. Give me a little more time, and I’ll definitely surpass you.”

“……”

“Big Sister is so kind and gentle, knowledgeable and understanding. I really envy you, Zhaoxue.”

“……”

“If only I had a big sister like that too.”

“……”

Zhaoxue placed her piece heavily on the chessboard.

Her delicate fingertips had turned pale, gripping the white jade chess piece so tightly that her skin took on a faint pink hue, while blue veins stood out against the back of her hand.

—“What is there for you to envy about me? You have parents who love you deeply, such incredible talent, and were blessed and eagerly awaited by so many people at birth. And yet, in the end, you still have to say things like this in front of me—just to wound me?”

Zhaoxue really wanted to say that. She wanted to say it badly.

But she held it in. She held it in with all her strength.

Because Ji Xueshou was the only peer she had left to keep her company. She was lonely in this large family, and she didn’t want to lose him.

Ji Xueshou, however, didn’t seem to notice the hint of coldness in her tone during their conversations, and he still often brought her little delicate trinkets.

“This is for you.”

“?”

“…It’s for Big Sister. She went to the sect, so you keep it for now.”

“……”

—

“Zhaoxue.”

“What is it?”

“If Big Sister doesn’t come back for a long time, you… you can keep it for yourself too.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

That’s what Zhaoxue said, but what she really thought was: Are you pitying me, giving me the things Big Sister didn’t want?

“……”

This childhood friend of hers, Ji Xueshou, had always admired her eldest sister, Zhaoyang, ever since they were little—because Zhaoyang had once looked after the sickly, frail boy next door with the tenderness of a real elder sister.

Zhaoxue had also been cared for by Zhaoyang when she was young, so she could understand why Ji Xueshou couldn’t let her go.

While her sister was away at the Hidden Sword Sect, Ji Xueshou would always ask Zhaoxue to hold onto things meant for Zhaoyang. Even though Zhaoxue had complaints in her heart, she still kept those items safe for him, neatly storing them in a red box and never once opening it.

Now that her sister was back, he was still doing this. What made him think she’d keep helping him? What did he take her for—just a tool to bridge the distance between him and Zhaoyang?

And worse, in the end, he did something that Zhaoxue could absolutely never forgive.

…Why did you destroy my place of refuge? Why ruin the peace in my life?

Why did we end up like strangers in the end?

Zhaoxue swallowed all her questions—those doubts that nearly spilled out—silenced beneath the boy’s downcast lashes and drooping lips.

The white jade sword tassel on the stone steps seemed to have chipped earlier, and the flaw in its broken edge stood out sharply.

In the end, the way he looked at her… was probably the same way he looked at that unwanted, damaged tassel.

The system said: 【No one can defy the plot.】

All she could do was take over the script of Zhaoyang and Zhaolan—and walk down this tragic path.

Zhaoxue stayed silent for a long while. Slowly, she finally closed her eyes and let out a breath.

“I won’t deliver things to Big Sister for you anymore.”

“That includes everything you left with me before.”

“Take it all back.”

The cicadas of midsummer cried noisily, the heat swirling in layers. Sunlight fell across Zhaoxue’s cheeks and neck, so pale it looked as if a layer of snow had settled on her skin.

Ji Xueshou looked at the shifting spots of light on her face, as if he wanted to say something, but his voice caught inexplicably in his throat.

“…That look on your face,”

Seeing Ji Xueshou unable to speak for so long, Zhaoxue turned away gloomily. “…It’s like I’m the villain tearing you two apart.”

A voice deep inside whispered: Well, that’s what she was all along.

What she didn’t expect, though, was that the boy didn’t ask her any questions.

He didn’t tilt his head with innocent confusion and ask her, “Why?” like he used to.

Ji Xueshou’s voice was very soft, carried by the breeze to her ear:

“…I’m sorry.”

The boy kept his head lowered, hiding his expression. He clutched his sleeves tightly, and his voice, in the rustling shade of the trees, was unmistakably clear.

—

Dinner time.

Zhaoxue didn’t even know how she managed to get through the afternoon.

Most of the family had gathered. The talented young cultivators surrounded Zhaoyang three layers deep, leaving no room at all. Everyone was eager to meet the once-in-a-century prodigy. She was like a true sun, drawing everyone’s attention.

Zhaoxue didn’t even get a glimpse of her.

She sat at one end of the long table, eyes lowered, listening to the endless compliments directed at Zhaoyang and the family elders.

At the center of attention sat her eldest sister. The woman wore a polite smile, her jet-black hair neatly coiled high on her head. Her light, elegant features looked like brushstrokes from an ink painting. Her back was straight, her demeanor approachable yet commanding—a quiet authority that needed no words.

That was the presence of a cultivator.

A person who had crossed the Foundation Establishment stage was completely different from a mortal. Just like her sister who had once cared for her as a child—now, Zhaoxue didn’t even know what to say to her anymore.

They no longer shared a common language.

Sooner or later, it would be the same with Zhaolan too.

Zhaoxue lowered her head and stirred the soup in her bowl with a spoon.

So annoying.

She had managed to avoid the midday banquet, but there was no escaping the evening feast. Ji Xueshou wasn’t here, and neither was Taxue.

Right now, she felt like she was sitting on pins and needles.

She just wanted to finish this meal quickly, have this crowd leave as soon as possible, and let Ji Xueshou meet her eldest sister and deliver the things he had prepared.

Zhaoxue had already made up her mind.

In the original plot, Ji Xueshou fell into demonic cultivation because he never got the chance to confess his feelings in time. This time, if he could be honest with her sister and get rejected, he would give up. That way, the chances of him falling into darkness would drop significantly.

At the dinner table, waves of noisy chatter kept breaking Zhaoxue’s focus.

“I heard Zhaoyang went to Yuxian Town to eliminate demons this time? That place isn’t too far from here—isn’t it dangerous?”

“It’s not too serious. Besides going down to gain experience, the once-every-three-years Immortal Seeking Conference is about to start, so the sect assigned demon-clearing areas along the route to prevent any accidents among mortals and rogue cultivators traveling from afar.”

“What a pity—my eldest brother wasn’t selected last year. The standards for Hidden Sword Sect are just too high.”

“Well, a place like Hidden Sword Sect is only for people like Zhaoyang with extraordinary talent. But we shouldn’t lose heart—there are still three other sects and sixteen smaller factions. The path isn’t completely blocked.”

“That’s true. But isn’t Zhaolan also going to participate this year? She seems to have talent just like her older sister.”

“Zhaolan’s coming with us to eliminate demons. She really lacks practical combat experience.”

As Zhaoyang spoke, she looked over at Zhaolan.

The playful girl with twin buns looked about seventy percent similar to her. She shrugged and stuck out her tongue cheekily.

Zhaoyang turned back around and sighed helplessly. “Mother still wants her to stay home a few more years. But Zhaolan’s mischievous—I have to keep an eye on her.”

Zhaolan pouted. “Big Sis! I have been training—I haven’t been slacking off!”

The table erupted in laughter.

Zhaoxue paused for a moment. She felt a soft stab in her heart.

The steam from the soup was thick and hot, making her eyes burn, and the noisy laughter around her filled her ears with a constant buzzing.

…She thought she had long become numb to this kind of cheerful family gathering.

“Speaking of which, little sister Zhaolan has always been like this since she was young—very likable.”

“Unlike that other child, she’s too withdrawn.”

Zhaoxue froze. Her ears buzzed.

“She always keeps her head down, doesn’t greet people, so gloomy—not like Zhaolan at all… But then again, they’re not real sisters.”

“I heard she doesn’t even have a spiritual root. Looks like she’s fated to be a mortal her whole life. Every generation of the Shen family’s main branch has been full of talent. If Madam hadn’t picked her up back then, maybe one of us from the side branch would’ve been adopted instead…”

Why were they suddenly dragging her into this?

Or was this just her fate as a cannon fodder character—born to be compared and discarded?

Someone glanced toward the head seat, then chuckled slyly and raised their cup: “Alright, enough of that, let’s drink!”

“…I’m finished.”

Zhaoxue clenched her chopsticks and set them down on the table with a sharp but controlled clack.

“Zhaoxue!”

Madam’s voice dropped in tone.

“Sorry, Mother.”

Zhaoxue lowered her head and gripped the hem of her robe.

She just wanted to get out of here. At this grand banquet, there weren’t many people she even knew—yet they all sat together, chatting and laughing like a happy family. Every face squeezed together at the table made her feel suffocated.

She turned to leave so quickly she nearly knocked over her chair. Someone called out “Zhaoxue” behind her, but she didn’t look back.

The soup she had drunk churned in her stomach.

Zhaoxue rushed out of the room, covering her mouth with her sleeve, forcing down the urge to vomit as she stumbled into the thick darkness of the night outside.

She staggered back to her own room.

Her family didn’t allow her to keep a cat, so Taxue had always been fostered at Ji Xueshou’s place. Today, because she felt so awful, she wanted to keep Taxue with her for the night and have him quietly take the cat back in the morning.

The room was dark. Zhaoxue almost tripped.

She called out Taxue’s name, but unlike usual, there was no response.

Taxue was very close to her—he would never deliberately avoid her.

He must’ve run out to the courtyard.

Thinking this, Zhaoxue rushed outside—but he wasn’t there either. Calling his name, she headed toward the lakeside to look for him.

Not far off, the glow of lanterns gradually lit up. Disciples of the family were out looking for her.

Zhaoxue hesitated only a moment before running toward the lake. Even though she was out of breath, the urge to find Taxue overwhelmed everything else.

Please… please don’t let the family see him.

She prayed silently.

But perhaps, things going wrong was simply her fate.

A sharp screech came from the black cat. It stretched out its claws, trying to scratch at the disciple who was handling it so roughly—but the disciple easily flipped it over. Its small body, which had curled up so softly in Zhaoxue’s arms earlier that day, was now tense and stiff, battered and covered in wounds.

Two disciples threw it to the ground. One of them stepped on its tail.

They turned around—only to see Zhaoxue, her hair undone, her face pale as a sheet.

“Hey, there you are at last. You freak—why’d you run off during the family banquet? Now we had to come out and look for you…”

“What kind of look is that? Is this black cat yours?”

“Good timing on your part. We almost beat it to death just now, haha. This thing’s just like its owner—never knows how to beg properly.”

Zhaoxue stood frozen on the spot. The moment she saw Taxue, her mind went blank—her senses completely dulled.

It wasn’t until the taste of blood suddenly flooded her mouth that she finally felt something real.

She couldn’t help but see her past self in Taxue.

—

“A wild child picked up off the street like you—what right do you have to keep staying in the Shen family? If Madam hadn’t been sick back then and needed company, do you really think you’d be here? You would’ve been a wandering ghost long ago!”

“Now that big sister Zhaoyang’s not around, you still dare to fight back?”

“Little sister Zhaolan is sweet and talented, and Madam adores her. I bet you’ll be kicked out of the Shen family sooner or later.”

“Let’s just go. What if she…”

Young Zhaoxue curled up in the corner, clutching herself, her breathing tugging at painful wounds, surrounded by cold air.

“What are you afraid of? Madam never liked her. Just after losing the baby, the family head brought back a girl—of course she resented that beggar for stealing her child’s place. If she dies someday, no one will even notice her.”

“Hey! You’re still glaring at us? You freak—was it that we didn’t hit you hard enough?”

Fists rained down like heavy drops, but she couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Before leaving, the group still warned her: “If you dare tell the family head, we’ll beat you to death!”

Zhaoxue didn’t say a word. She waited until they had gone.

Then she stood up, limping, wiped her tears with her sleeve, and staggered her way to Madam’s door.

A servant stopped her. “Madam is teaching the young miss to read. Miss Zhaoxue, you can’t go in right now.”

Zhaoxue didn’t leave. She bit her lip, clenched her sleeves tightly, and stood on tiptoe, peeking through the crack in the door.

Inside, a little girl dressed in fine silks, delicate and adorable, was sitting in the lap of a noble, elegantly dressed woman. They were talking and laughing softly together. On the woman’s face was a gentle expression Zhaoxue had never seen before.

The room was filled with the scent of incense, a fire crackled in the stove, and the whole space was warm and bright.

Zhaoxue’s heart festered like the red, inflamed chilblains on her hands—it felt like it was oozing pus.

She turned away, dug her fingernails into her palm, and walked into the freezing snow.

—

Now, that black cat lying on the ground was just like how she once was. That period didn’t last long—those disciples who bullied her were quickly reassigned from the main house—but the scars they left on Zhaoxue never went away.

“I thought…”

Zhaoxue opened her chapped lips and spoke in a low, hoarse voice.

“What?”

“I once thought that at the very least, Taxue could live better than I did—have a simple, but peaceful and happy life.” Zhaoxue spoke slowly. She looked up at them, her eyes filled with a deathly stillness.

“You people… what gives you the right to trample on someone else’s life like this?”

As her words fell, two talismans spun into the air from her palms.

The obscure, intricate runes written on them glowed faintly in the dim night, casting a soft, pale light over her face.

These talismans were rare—specially prepared by the family for self-defense. There weren’t many of them, and they were made specifically for people like Zhaoxue, who had no spiritual power.

“Y-You lunatic!!”

Fear finally showed on their faces. They stumbled back in panic and shoved Taxue toward her. “Here, take this thing back! D-Don’t come any closer!”

But it was already too late.

The firefly-colored talismans slithered through the air like two slender serpents, quickly catching up to the disciple who was running for his life. In an instant, his body was bound by an invisible force. The other disciple was soon caught as well, letting out a cry of agony.

“Earth-grade talismans only protect their owner. The closer someone bound by the talisman is to its owner, the more deeply they feel a pain that cuts to the bone…”

Under the moonlight, the girl’s skin was pale and translucent. Her chin was pointed, and her neck was slender and fragile. She knelt down and picked up Taxue. The black cat, still curled up in her arms, kept struggling, clearly frightened out of its wits. Zhaoxue gently soothed it as she walked toward the group.

The bound disciples couldn’t speak, only stare at her in horror, their features twisted in pain.

That expression… that shocking behavior—for her to use such precious life-saving talismans over a mere cat… This crazy woman!

“Does it hurt? Are you scared? Even a worm like me, quiet as a corpse… can still bite you to death without being noticed.”

Zhaoxue let out a self-mocking laugh as she continued walking forward.

But just then, a breeze swept past her ear, carrying an unfamiliar scent of pure lotus.

In the moonlit night, a flash of sword light swept across the air like a rainbow piercing through the moonlight.

Before Zhaoxue could see clearly, the talismans were already flicked away with a graceful motion of the man’s sword. Her vision blurred, and the talisman paper fluttered off with the wind into the distance.

He turned his head, cold brows and sharp eyes lowered. Thick lashes cast a shadow down his face. His lips pressed into a line, and his gaze swept over Zhaoxue without emotion before shifting away.

Then he let go of her wrist and walked toward the disciples, who had already passed out from the pain.

At the exact moment the pressure on her wrist vanished, a system notification window popped up beside the man—identifying him as a romance target.

Accompanied by his cool and low voice:

【…The self-defense talismans of the Hidden Sword Sect aren’t meant to harm others.】