Chapter 23: I Envy You

“I was going to eat you, you know,” she said, “but you seem like a good sprout, and I felt a pang of compassion. So I’ve decided to spare you. You should remember that I saved your life.”

“I don’t expect you to be forever grateful—just remember this act of kindness. Don’t betray me, don’t hurt me, and don’t steal my money, and that’s enough.”

“From now on, we’re family. You won’t have to suffer the wind and sun anymore. I’ll give you a warm home.”

“Well, our place isn’t much, certainly not as nice as the Spirit Gathering Valley, but that’s just for now. Once I become successful, I’ll make sure you have all the spiritual energy you could ever want.”

Jiang Min stood by the window, watering the little sprout in the clay pot.

A talisman was stuck to the side of the pot, binding the sprout in place.

No matter what sweet words she used, the little sprout remained wilted and spiritless, its leaves drooping, paying her no heed.

“How about I give you a name?” she suggested.

No response.

“Greenie? Bluebell? Wildling?”

Still silence.

“I haven’t read many books, so I can’t think of any good names. Well, I’ll call you Ling.”

No answer.

“If you don’t say anything, I’ll take it as agreement.”

Ming Ruoshui stopped in the doorway, watching Jiang Min chat away to a sprout as if she never had a care in the world, her face always lit with a smile, revealing neat white teeth.

“Jiang Min.”

At the sound of her voice, Jiang Min turned, beaming. “Senior Sister Ming, you came to see me? Are your injuries any better?”

“I’m going home. I’m leaving now. I just wanted to let you know.” Ming Ruoshui saw Jiang Min’s smile slowly fade. She looked down, her voice soft: “Take care.”

With that, she turned to leave.

“Senior Sister Ming!” Jiang Min hurried after her, only catching up at the courtyard gate. “Wait for me, please! There’s something I want to say. Let me… walk with you?”

Ming Ruoshui said nothing, but slowed her steps.

“I didn’t expect it to be so sudden. There’s so much I’ve always wanted to say to you. If I don’t, I’ll regret it.”

Jiang Min walked beside her, glancing at her sidelong. Words crowded in her throat, but she didn’t know where to begin.

“Actually, I’ve always envied you,” Jiang Min finally said. “You probably don’t know, but the first time I saw you, I thought you looked just like a celestial being from the old stories.” She noticed Ming Ruoshui glance at her and quickly clarified, “That’s not flattery—I mean it, truly.”

She had always been this way—her gratitude and affection were never hidden, but spoken boldly and without reserve.

Frank and warm-hearted.

Looking at Ming Ruoshui, Jiang Min smiled gently. “I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you. Every time I see you, I feel ashamed of my own plainness. Maybe you don’t know, but I’ve always tried to imitate your bearing and your speech, hoping to become someone like you—”

Ming Ruoshui’s face clouded, and she cut in coldly, “Is that all you wanted to say?”

Jiang Min opened her mouth, then swallowed her remaining words, answering seriously, “I just wanted to thank you in person.”

“No matter what, words of thanks have to be spoken—I don’t want to keep them inside.”

“Senior Sister Ming, if it weren’t for you teaching me to read, for your patience with my slow wits, if you hadn’t been my example, I’d still be a dull, ignorant village girl—I might never have made it this far. Thank you.”

Ming Ruoshui paused, her expression changing. She looked at Jiang Min and spoke with a chill in her voice: “Jiang Min, go to Qin Gengyun, go to Zhong Qu and the others. They’d teach you as well. What lies between us was nothing but a transaction.”

“You have nothing to envy in me. Beauty is no blessing, let me tell you. I’m just a minor branch girl in my clan, no different from anyone else. In fact, my looks have only brought trouble. That young master from the Zhou family took one look at me and said he’d like me as a concubine—and my parents were delighted to send me off. What in my life is there to envy?”

“I know you must have some fateful opportunity to progress so quickly in your cultivation—that’s your secret, and I won’t pry. But I… I’m a five-spirit-root nobody, without a shred of luck, and even after striving for a few years in the Eastern Spirit Sect, I couldn’t become an outer disciple or escape my engagement.”

She paused, pain flickering in her voice. “All my struggles feel so ridiculous. No matter how hard I try, I can’t change anything. Why bother cultivating so bitterly—what’s the point?”

“Jiang Min,” she murmured, “don’t envy me.”

“I should be the one envying you.”

Jiang Min felt a pang in her heart. She was just a humble farm girl—what could there be to envy?

“Do you know how jealous I am of you?” Ming Ruoshui looked at her, a self-mocking smile curling her lips. “If I had your courage, would I be suffering like this? But a bird caged too long forgets how to fly.”

“So don’t thank me. I don’t care about that—it doesn’t matter.”

With that, Ming Ruoshui drew a long, green sword from her storage pouch. The sword’s blade shimmered with a cold, verdant light.

“This is a mid-grade spiritual weapon of the wood attribute.” She ran her hand along the blade, lingering over it for a moment, then thrust it deeply into the snow. “I’m going back to being just a pretty ornament. I have no more use for this sword. It’s yours now.”

Jiang Min was startled, immediately protesting, “I can’t! It’s far too valuable—”

“I couldn’t finish my path. Take my sword, and walk it for me,” Ming Ruoshui interrupted.

“The weather’s fine today—perfect for goodbyes.”

She looked up at the open sky, then turned and strode quickly down the steps toward the ferry point, not once looking back.

Her figure, as ever, upright as a mountain peak, unbowed by any burden.

Jiang Min watched her go, her chest tightening as if a heavy stone had lodged there, making it hard to breathe.

Why struggle so hard to cultivate? Of course, to change one’s fate. But there are things that cannot be altered by hard work alone. Should one give up for that? No—when she had nothing, she still had a heart full of courage. In the face of hardship or nobility, she had never been afraid, and would face life and death without regret.

A sudden impulse seized her. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted down the steps: “Senior Sister Ming!”

“You can have courage too! I’ll give you all of mine!”

Ming Ruoshui stopped in her tracks, unable to resist glancing back. The mountain wind tousled her hair as she looked up at Jiang Min.

She gazed at her for a long moment, then, suddenly relieved, broke into a smile.

It was the first time Jiang Min had ever seen her smile—radiant and dazzling. Jiang Min laughed aloud in delight, waving vigorously.

Then, forming a circle with her arms as if embracing something, she mimed pushing it toward Ming Ruoshui.

“This is all my courage! Take it! Catch!”

It was such a childish gesture, but as she heard the words, Ming Ruoshui was compelled to lift her hand. A breeze brushed her fingertips, and for an instant, she felt as if something had truly touched her heart.

She smiled, then turned away, hiding the glimmer in her eyes, and continued resolutely on her path.

Jiang Min slowly lowered her hands and whispered softly,

“Take care.”

She was too weak to protect even herself, and could offer Ming Ruoshui nothing more than these meager words of thanks. All she could hope was that her courage might be a comfort to her. If even such a small encouragement counted as effort, then she had done all she could.

Ming Ruoshui’s figure gradually faded from sight.

Jiang Min turned away, drawing the green sword from the snow and running her hand over its blade.

Such a weight of karma was more than she could bear.

“Why work so hard at cultivation? So there will be no regrets.”

“And this—this is regret, isn’t it…”

Spring winds stir, and she is gone.

In life it is rare to meet, and bitter is the pain of parting.