Chapter 31

But of course, this selfish thought was only fleeting. Without a proper identity, Nian Qi would have to rely heavily on Ruan Qing, maybe even be subject to her control, which felt too unfair for him. Ruan Qing was still troubled over how to solve the issue of his identity.

A couple of days later, her project finally wrapped up. Finance called her in to sign off so they could process the supplier payments. At lunch with her coworkers, they were chatting and scrolling through their phones. Ruan Qing glanced over and saw her intern with tear-filled eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She was startled. “Did you break up?”

“No, it’s not that.” The intern wiped her eyes and showed her the phone. “It’s this post I found.” She explained, “Look at how many people there are in this old group photo! In peaceful times, they disappear into the mountains; in chaotic times, they come down to restore peace. They went to resist the invaders.”

“But…” The intern’s eyes reddened again, and her tears were on the verge of falling. “None of them came back.”

Ruan Qing didn’t really want to look. It wasn’t because she was cold-hearted—quite the opposite. She knew that looking at something like this would probably break her down even more than her intern. But being older, she was used to acting maturely, never allowing herself to lose composure in front of others. If she was going to cry, it could only be at home, alone.

But the intern insisted, thrusting the phone in front of her. “Ruan Jie, please, just take a look.”

Ruan Qing had heard this sentiment before: Taoist monks, during chaotic times, descend the mountains to save people, and in times of peace, they withdraw to seclusion. Monks, in chaotic times, close their doors and meditate; in peaceful times, they spread blessings.

In the video, the long group photo was filled with so many people that you couldn’t even make out their faces, only the richly embroidered ceremonial robes on the front row. Then chaos arrived, with war and suffering sweeping across the land. The Taoist masters took up their swords and descended the mountains to defend against the enemy. Their temples fell into disrepair, and the Taoist community dwindled.

It was too touching for Ruan Qing to handle. She could already feel her eyes misting up, so she hurriedly handed the phone back to the intern. “Yeah…that’s just how things were back then.”

When trying to hide their emotions, people often ramble. Ruan Qing found herself saying more than usual, “I think my grandfather’s hometown had a similar story. When I was a kid, I remember him telling me there was a temple in the mountains where Taoist monks went down to fight the invaders and… never returned.”

She suddenly fell silent, lost in thought.

The intern was still waiting for the story, prompting her, “So they never came back, right? What happened next?”

Ruan Qing snapped out of it and continued, “They said a young apprentice monk was left behind. Later, some villagers saw him twice: once as an adult, and then years later as a middle-aged man. But after that, there was no news, and no one ever saw him again.”

“Do you think he passed away?” the intern wondered. “It’s been so long. If he were alive, he’d have to be, what, almost a hundred?”

“Probably…” Ruan Qing replied absentmindedly. “He might have passed away…”

While the intern was full of emotion over that era, Ruan Qing kept eating, lost in thought.

Later that afternoon, after leaving the office, she called her dad while driving, “Dad, do you remember that story Grandpa told about the temple in the mountains back home?”

Ruan’s father was baffled. “What Taoist temple?”

Ruan Qing had to jog his memory. “Remember that time when Grandpa Qi came over? You two were talking about it, and I kept pestering you to explain, and you eventually told me the story. Does that ring a bell?”

With the reminder, her father managed to retrieve some faint memories. “Oh… Yeah, I think that did happen.”

Ruan Qing pressed on. “So that Taoist temple really exists, right? There’s really one hidden in the mountains near our hometown?”

“Probably? I guess so,” her father answered, still unsure.

Ruan Qing was thoroughly unimpressed. “What do you mean ‘probably’? How can you know so little about the legends from your own hometown? Have you forgotten your roots or what?”

Her father fumed. “What roots? I was born in the city, okay?”

“A county town is still a town!” Ruan Qing shot back, determined. “Your father’s birthplace is your ancestral home. Even if you were born in the city, Grandpa was born in the countryside. So technically, that makes it your hometown too. Ignorance of that is definitely forgetting your roots!”

Her father was close to losing his temper. “What’s the point of this call? Did you just call to annoy me? Do you want to talk to your mom? I’ll get her.”

“No, no, no! Don’t call her!” Ruan Qing hurriedly stopped him. “I just wanted to ask about the Taoist temple! If you’re not sure, could you ask Grandpa Qi for me? He’ll definitely know.”

Her father grumbled under his breath, “You only call home when you need something. It’s never because you miss us, you little brat.”

Ruan Qing chuckled apologetically. “I do miss you. A little.”

Her father scoffed. “If you miss us, then come back and visit.”

Ruan Qing huffed. “You and Mom stop pressuring me, and I’ll come back.”

Her father snapped. “How are we pressuring you? You’re not getting any younger…”

Ruan Qing cut him off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you!”

“Don’t forget to ask Grandpa Qi I need to know if the temple is still there and if anyone still lives there!” she said loudly, over the phone. “Call me back when you find out. I’m driving now, gotta go.”

With a final click, she hung up. Just like that—bold and carefree. After all, she was the only child at home. An only daughter!

Ruan Qing had intended to head home early, but she had dinner plans with a long-time vendor she was close with. By the time she made it back home, it was already dark.

Strangely, the lights in the apartment were off.

She opened the door and froze in place. Slipping on her slippers, she called out, 

“Nian Qi?”

Could he have gone out again, wandering around on his own while she was away? But then she noticed the balcony doors were wide open, letting in the glow of lights from outside.

Before she could finish her thought, a shadow suddenly flipped over the edge of the balcony in a swift, agile movement. The figure crouched, fingertips briefly touching the floor for balance before rising smoothly to stand.

“You’re back?” the figure asked casually, standing backlit against the glow from outside, his hair still swaying slightly in the night breeze.

The whole sequence—from vaulting over the balcony rail, to crouching, to standing—was executed flawlessly, without the slightest hesitation. It all happened in an instant, but that fleeting moment of grace left Ruan Qing completely stunned.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.

Ever since she was a child—probably since her later years in primary school—she’d dreamed about falling in love with a heroic swordsman.

No, no, not the kind of heroic swordsman like Guo Jing, the one who fights for the nation and the people. No, what she meant was a different type: a dashing, martial-arts-skilled heartthrob, like the ones from period dramas.

But, of course, that had always been just a fantasy. Where in real life would she ever find a handsome, ancient swordsman who could fight?

Nian Qi couldn’t understand why Ruan Qing was staring at him in the dim light, frozen in place as if under a spell. “What’s wrong?” he asked, walking over to switch on the living room lights.

“Oh… oh…” Ruan Qing rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to brush off her awkwardness. “Nothing. Uh, what were you doing? And why did you climb in from the outside?”

It suddenly hit her—this was the sixteenth floor!

“I was… getting some fresh air,” Nian Qi replied casually.

“?” Ruan Qing was puzzled. “Where exactly were you getting fresh air? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I was hanging upside down just now,” he said, pointing at the balcony railing. “The lights were off, so you probably didn’t notice my feet.”

“… What?” Ruan Qing’s voice shot up as she pointed at the railing. “There?!”

He nodded calmly. “Yes.”

Ruan Qing nearly exploded. She extended a finger, shaking it furiously, struggling to even form words out of frustration.

Sensing danger, Nian Qi quickly went to pour her a glass of ice water.

Ruan Qing took a couple of big gulps, finally catching her breath, and jabbed her finger at him in the air. “You!”

“First of all!” she gritted her teeth. “This is the sixteenth floor! If you fall, you’ll die!”

“I’ll be fine,” Nian Qi said with a little cough. “You forget, I used to come and go through windows all the time…”

Ruan Qing made a swift, sealing gesture with her hand, as if zipping his mouth shut. Nian Qi immediately fell silent, watching her nervously.

“First of all,” Ruan Qing repeated, enunciating every word through clenched teeth, “This is the sixteenth floor! Nothing should be outside the window!”

She continued, “Now imagine: It’s late at night. Our neighbors on the fifteenth floor glance up, and what do they see? A person hanging upside down with long hair swaying in the breeze!”

Nian Qi paused, suddenly realizing how absurd it sounded when put that way.

Ruan Qing was furious. “Are you trying to give our neighbors a heart attack?”

He quickly offered an explanation. “There’s no one downstairs. Their lights are off—no one’s home.”

“Fine,” Ruan Qing said, still exasperated. “But what if someone from the opposite building—or one of the neighboring ones—was on their balcony, bored, taking pictures of the moon? And instead of the moon, they see you dangling from the sixteenth floor?”

Nian Qi stayed silent.

He was starting to realize how much he still overlooked the differences between this world and his own. Here, the night was never fully dark—there were always lights around. And unlike in his time, people could still see clearly at night. More importantly, nearly everyone carried phones with cameras, meaning there were “eyes” everywhere, watching at all times.

Ruan Qing was right. Someone could very well have pointed their phone at him, and he wouldn’t have even noticed.

She continued, “What if they got so scared they dropped their phone? Or called the police, or the fire department, or the building security to send someone up here?”

Nian Qi lowered his head, admitting defeat. “You’re right. I was wrong.”

There’s nothing more annoying than when someone surrenders too quickly—when you’re all fired up and ready to give them a piece of your mind, only for them to fold right away. It was like trying to punch a pillow. Ruan Qing huffed, still stewing, wondering how she could make sure he truly learned his lesson.

Then she noticed something. “Why are you holding an apple?”

Nian Qi had been holding the apple ever since he climbed in, and he had set it down only briefly to pour her water. After handing her the glass, he had unconsciously picked it up again.

“Oh, this?” He tossed the apple in the air and caught it effortlessly. “I was just playing with it outside.”

“?” Ruan Qing stared at him, puzzled.

It was only now that she realized something seemed off about him tonight. Normally, he had a playful air about him, half-teasing and half-obedient. But tonight, his expression carried a distant, almost ethereal detachment.

Lowering her voice, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” He gave the apple another toss and caught it again. His gaze lingered on the apple, and in a soft voice, he said, “I was just watching a video earlier… saw an apple fall from a tree.”