When Ruoshui woke and lifted her veil, the sky had paled to the first light of dawn. Qiwu Jun was nowhere to be seen. She had supposed he’d gone to entertain guests, but one night had stretched into no return. The implication was clear: he had left her to fend for herself. Her smile soured; her hopes felt like a hollow bucket.

　　Days passed — one, two, three — and Qiwu Jun still did not appear. Ruoshui changed into simple clothes and ventured out. Lone Egret Peak, true to its name, was desolate; not a single living thing stirred. Clearly Qiwu Jun was angry and intended to let her melt away in solitude.

　　Haunted by nightmares daily, she nonetheless clung to life. She wandered aimlessly and eventually came to a back ridge where a stagnant pond lay. In the center stood a lone white crane — besides Qiwu Jun, it was the only living thing on the peak.

　　The crane and she stared at each other until the bird spread its wings and landed near her, then transformed into a young man: fine-featured, wearing a crown shaped like a crane, his robes feathered to match his nature.

　　The boy’s crane-eyes were haughty and not exactly friendly as he asked, “What are you doing here?”

　　That the white crane became a youth did not shock Ruoshui. She wasn’t surprised — if anything, she was relieved. But she answered with a question of her own: “Where did Qiwu Jun go?”

　　The boy pretended not to understand. She clarified: “Qiwu Jun — where did he go?”

　　“He’s in seclusion,” the boy replied.

　　“Seclusion? How long will he be in seclusion?” Ruoshui pressed.

　　“Who knows? A few months, maybe a few years, perhaps even ten,” he said matter-of-factly.

　　The chill in her chest deepened — he really had abandoned her. Desperate, she forced a smile. “Little White Crane, do you know where I can find food?”

　　“What did you call me?” the boy snapped.

　　Although the crane-form was about her height, she had thought of him only as a bird. Now embarrassed, she stuttered, “White… White Crane Xianjun? Do you know where there is food?”

　　“Noted,” the crane-boy’s expression softened a touch, though he still regarded her like something odd. “You’ve never given up the Five Grains?”

　　“Uh…” to be scorned by a bird stung. She forced a grin.

　　The youth — half human, half crane — showed contempt, grabbed the collar at the nape of her neck, and flew off.

　　Sudden flight made Ruoshui scream. The echoes hung over Lone Egret Peak; if there were other beings around, chaos would have ensued. Too stunned to react, Ruoshui was dropped to the ground and fell painfully, rolling helplessly. The crane-boy’s actions were rough; she knew he was resentful, and she had little cause to complain — she’d brought this on herself.

　　The crane-boy flung her onto Qingxue Peak and flew off, proud as could be. Standing there, Ruoshui regretted everything.

　　At Zhaoyao Mountain, pilgrims and seekers of immortality came year-round. Many ordinary folk wanting discipleship or training were housed on Qingxue Peak; their days were filled with practice and communal dorms and three meals in the hall.

　　Ruoshui wandered to the dining hall. The room buzzed with heads bent over bowls. Faces turned toward her; she felt the weight of curiosity and retreated to the food line.

　　But the serving trays were nearly bare. A cook lad ladled white rice into her bowl with a admonition: “Come earlier next time.”

　　She took her tray and sat where no one would notice, poking the plain rice. It tasted like nothing. A woman seated nearby, sword at her side, saw Ruoshui and slid a generous portion of meat from her own tray into Ruoshui’s. The woman wore her hair high and had a sharp, cool presence — distant, even forbidding — but she offered a small smile. “Eat.”

　　Ruoshui, surprised, accepted gratefully. “Thank you.”

　　“I’m Gu Xiao. Call me Xiaoxiao,” the woman said simply.

　　“I’m… Ruoshui,” Ruoshui answered in a small voice. She felt her name shaky; Su Mu had given her that name and he was gone.

　　Ruoshui ate a few morsels and, feeling awkward under attention, pushed her tray aside. Gu Xiao stayed with her, and after the meal people dispersed to practice.

　　That evening, when the cooks brought out the hot dishes, Ruoshui begged for more meat like a spoiled child and tucked in happily. Gu Xiao remained by her side.

　　Word spread quickly among the students. “Did you hear? Qiwu Jun didn’t marry Wuyang Xianzi.”

　　“What? But wasn’t the wedding supposed to be Qiwu Jun and Wuyang Xianzi?”

　　“That’s what was planned, but on the eve he was bewitched by a demoness and compromised. Wuyang’s the sect master’s daughter — how could she marry someone so entangled?”

　　“Nonsense. What demoness could seduce Qiwu Jun?”

　　“Still, the wedding was conducted — it just wasn’t Wuyang who was dressed as the bride.”

　　“Who was it then?”

　　Gossip about the heart of Zhaoyao Mountain spread like wildfire. People loved a scandal and each retelling grew wilder. Some claimed she must be a siren who seduced Qiwu Jun; others said she must be hideously ugly, explaining why Qiwu Jun would leave her alone; some whispered she was a spy from the demon realm. No story lacked imagination.

　　Regardless of the details, the common thread remained: this “demoness” was treacherous, shameless, usurping a bride and desecrating their revered lord. The new bride, whoever she was, became a marked woman — a public pariah — and Qiwu Jun himself became dinner-table talk.

　　Listening to the rumors, Ruoshui felt their absurdity and helplessness. Rumors were just rumors; no one sought the truth. People believed whatever narrative filled their own heads and passed it along as fact.

　　It was because of these tongues that Fuyi Jun finally returned to Zhaoyao Mountain. As the last of the old master’s close disciples, carefree and often traveling under a pseudonym “Hyacinth” to practice medicine, Fuyi returned outraged. He’d been treating a difficult patient and had not planned to come back for the wedding, but hearing the vile gossip about his aloof senior being tricked by some woman stung his pride. How could someone sow shame on the mountain? He would have it answered.

　　Fuyi rushed straight to Lone Egret Peak. Qiwu Jun was still secluded; the so-called “demoness” was nowhere to be found. Fuyi went to the back pond where the little white crane still rested on its central rock. He grabbed the crane’s neck and dragged him down. The crane turned back into the boy and bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Fuyi Jun.”

　　Fuyi was not one to be trifled with. As the youngest beloved of many senior siblings, he was used to acting on impulse.

　　“Where is that woman?” he demanded.

　　The boy looked blank — he’d nearly forgotten about her after tossing her to Qingxue Peak. “Probably at Qingxue Peak,” he offered. What else would a mortal do?

　　“Take me to her.” Fuyi hauled the little crane into the air and they flew off.

　　At Qingxue Peak people were training in scattered groups. Ruoshui had been dozing under a tree. Gu Xiao had just bested an opponent and returned; she sat across from Ruoshui with a commanding air.

　　Fuyi scanned the training field. “Which one is that shameless woman?” he asked.

　　“There — her,” the crane pointed at Ruoshui.

　　Fuyi smirked. “Good. I’ll teach her a lesson.”

　　Ruoshui tried to compliment Gu Xiao for her skill. “You’re amazing,” she said.

　　“Not at all — they were just weak,” Gu Xiao replied.

　　“Big words. Care to spar?” Fuyi suddenly appeared with a provocative grin.

　　Fuyi had misidentified his target. He thought the arrogant woman he’d seen earlier was the “demoness,” but Gu Xiao was the one who had been practicing near Ruoshui. Fuyi hadn’t even looked at Ruoshui in the beginning. Now, assuming Gu Xiao was the culprit, he challenged her.

　　Martial artists relish a worthy opponent. Gu Xiao, seeing Fuyi’s intent, accepted the match — not out of pride, but to test herself.

　　They took the center stage. Spectators stepped aside. Fuyi produced a peachwood sword and lunged with ruthless strikes. Gu Xiao parried with her long sword; his techniques were brutal, each move meant to kill. Though not yet at Qingshan Jun’s level, Fuyi’s strength and speed overwhelmed her quickly. She could not keep up; a sword pommel struck her back. She tried to yield, but Fuyi pushed her aside with a palm and launched the peachwood blade to finish her.

　　Ruoshui, startled and braver than she felt, threw herself in front of Gu Xiao.

　　Fuyi had intended not to kill — he merely wanted to humiliate the supposed woman and teach a lesson — but now he sneered, “Is that all?”

　　“Cultivation is about self-cultivation. Sparring should be for mutual improvement, not fatal blows,” Ruoshui said, looking him squarely in the eye. Her words were both question and rebuke.

　　“She knows what she did,” Fuyi said coldly.

　　Ruoshui looked at Gu Xiao with those pleading eyes that asked, When did you cross him? Gu Xiao had no idea what she’d ever done to anger him; she supposed Fuyi came to avenge one of his student’s losses, not realizing his target had been mistaken. Still, she accepted her lack of skill and said, “I lacked technique.”