Chapter Eighty-One: Senior Sister's Departure

Plum blossoms as white as snow, their subtle fragrance wafting through the air, and a beautiful woman in red danced in the clearing amidst the woods, brandishing a gleaming sword whose cold light flashed in the morning sun. The blade quivered like flowers swaying in the wind, her movements fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water, ethereal and almost celestial.

“To come with thunder, gathering wrath; to end as rivers and seas, gathering light,” An Yi softly recited.

Ji Fanyi finished performing the Thirteen Carefree Sword Forms, her breath even and calm. She raised her lips in a smile and said, “Nineteen, it's your turn.”

An Yi picked up her sword and stepped forward. The first three forms she managed to complete decently, but by the fourth, her movements were full of mistakes. During a sweeping turn, she nearly cut off her own hair.

Ji Fanyi frowned slightly.

With a crisp sound, An Yi attempted another move, swinging the sword left and right, but her grip loosened and the blade fell to the ground.

“Nineteen, oh Nineteen, what am I to do with you?” Ji Fanyi shook her head and sighed.

An Yi picked up the sword, her face awkward. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to practice seriously; she truly couldn’t remember the sword forms. Perhaps she was better suited to wielding a scalpel than a sword. Only after beginning martial arts training did she realize how little athletic talent she possessed. After more than two months of cramming, she’d gained a basic understanding of astronomy, geography, the five elements, the eight trigrams, and other arcane knowledge, but as for martial arts, she was like a block of wood.

After three months of observation, Ji Fanyi had come to a conclusion: An Yi had no talent for martial arts. There were no shortcuts; she would have to start from the very basics. Wanting her disciple to be able to survive in the martial world, Ji Fanyi decided to intensify An Yi’s training in lightness skills, internal cultivation, and the use of hidden weapons.

Ji Fanyi had taken nineteen disciples. Besides the three skills each disciple chose themselves, mastery of lightness skills was mandatory. If you couldn’t win a fight, at least you could escape. The sect’s internal cultivation, practiced over time, could make one’s senses sharp and one’s movements deft. An Yi specialized in poisons; with faster hands, it would be harder for others to notice her tricks.

“Master, if I use knockout powder to incapacitate someone, I can do whatever I want—kill or spare, as I please. Why would I need to run away using lightness skills?” An Yi looked down at the weighted sandbags tied to her feet, frowning as she spoke.

“What if you fail to knock them out?” Ji Fanyi leaned against a tree, raising her eyebrows.

“Master, are you doubting my skill with poison?” An Yi’s eyes gleamed. Just yesterday, she’d concocted a poison that killed twenty rats in seconds, their limbs twitching before they collapsed.

“Not doubting—just reminding you. Everyone slips up sometimes, even a horse stumbles. A cautious boat sails for a thousand years,” Ji Fanyi said, stepping in front of An Yi and tapping her on the nose with a fingertip. “Nineteen, the clever rabbit has three burrows, and that’s just barely enough to survive. If you rely on poison alone, you’ll never sleep easy.”

An Yi bowed her head. “Thank you for your guidance, Master.”

“Good girl,” Ji Fanyi smiled kindly. “Now add another sandbag to your feet.”

An Yi rolled her eyes in secret and, sandbags tied to her ankles, struggled up the stone steps.

Days and months flew by. In the third month of late spring, the weather was fickle—now sunny, now rainy—and so too was Hu Qingyue’s mood.

“Ugh.” An Yi wrinkled her nose, turning aside to spit out the food in her mouth. “Eighteen Senior Sister, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with me.” Hu Qingyue looked at An Yi, puzzled.

“This fish is sweet,” An Yi said.

“Sweet? That can’t be!” Hu Qingyue tasted a bite and quickly spat it out, giving an apologetic smile. “I must’ve used sugar instead of salt.”

“The day before yesterday, you added salt twice—nearly killed us with how salty it was. Yesterday you forgot the salt—tasteless as water. Today you used sugar instead—sweet enough to kill. Eighteen, what do you plan to add to our food tomorrow? Let your master and your junior sister know in advance, so we can be prepared.” Ji Fanyi stroked the silver-banded snake that slipped from her sleeve, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Hu Qingyue shuddered at the sight of the snake flicking its tongue, leaning back in fear, her voice trembling. “Master, I… I…”

“No stuttering. Speak clearly,” Ji Fanyi said, deliberately holding the snake closer, knowing full well that Hu Qingyue was afraid of snakes.

“Master, please move Silver Lad away,” Hu Qingyue pleaded, pale with terror at the snake so close to her face.

With perfect composure, An Yi reached out, grabbed the silver-banded snake, and tossed it aside. Hu Qingyue breathed a sigh of relief, patting her chest and shooting An Yi a grateful smile—her junior sister was the best.

“Eighteen, honestly. Afraid of a snake without fangs? How did I end up with such a timid disciple?” Ji Fanyi frowned in mock disapproval.

“A snake with its fangs pulled is still a snake—not an eel,” Hu Qingyue pouted.

“A fangless snake doesn’t bite—how is it different from an eel?” Ji Fanyi arched an eyebrow.

“There’s a difference, of course.”

“And what difference is that?”

Hu Qingyue thought for a moment. “Snakes have scales; eels don’t.”

“So a scaleless snake is the same as an eel?”

“There’s no such thing as a scaleless snake.”

“Why not? I’ll go up the mountain tomorrow and catch one for you to see,” Ji Fanyi teased, clearly enjoying herself.

Hu Qingyue’s mouth twitched. If her master really found a scaleless snake, her days would be miserable indeed.

“Eighteen Senior Sister, what’s distracting you lately?” An Yi intervened, rescuing Hu Qingyue again and steering the conversation back on course.

Hu Qingyue glanced at An Yi, then at Ji Fanyi, biting her lower lip, a blush rising in her cheeks. Voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I received a letter from home the day before yesterday. My family has arranged a marriage for me.”

Ji Fanyi’s eyes glimmered, a faint smile touching her lips. “When do you have to go back?”

“Mid-April. Someone from home will come to fetch me.”

An Yi lowered her gaze, hiding the sorrow in her eyes. Her long lashes cast a shadow across her cheeks. She had no home to return to. Where could she go to seek news? Had her mother and second brother reached the capital, or had disaster struck on the road? Was her eldest brother in the capital, had he received her letter, had he escaped An Qinghe’s poisonous schemes?

Ji Fanyi slapped the table, her tone bold and brash, “What’s there to be afraid of? If that man dares bully you, just write to me, and I’ll make sure he regrets ever being born a man.”

Hu Qingyue blushed furiously. She would never write home for that.

An Yi, returning to herself, pretended not to have heard, lowering her head to eat plain rice. None of the dishes were edible—all were sickeningly sweet.

Morning came with a fine drizzle. After soaking in her medicinal bath, An Yi sat in the stone house, grinding herbs. Ji Fanyi squatted in the snake house, sorting through eggs, picking out a few to incubate, planning to pull out the fangs and give them to An Yi as guardian snakes. They couldn’t kill, but could certainly frighten.

Of Ji Fanyi’s nineteen disciples, only An Yi wasn’t afraid of snakes. She was also the only one who, after five months of practicing lightness skills, still hadn’t mastered them—far from being light as a swallow, she hadn’t even reached the third tier of martial proficiency. The martial world was treacherous, and Ji Fanyi feared she would be overwhelmed, so she prepared all sorts of defensive tools, hoping her disciple’s path would be a long one.

In mid-April, someone from the Hu family arrived to take Hu Qingyue back to Hangzhou.

Before leaving, Hu Qingyue gripped An Yi’s hand. “Nineteen, when I get married, you must come.”

“I’ll be there in person, with a proper gift,” An Yi answered with a gentle smile.

“Take good care of Master.” Hu Qingyue handed her a ring of keys.

“I will.” Now An Yi was the only disciple left at Ji Fanyi’s side, and the affairs of the large estate fell to her hands.

Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, An Yi felt a wave of loneliness and sorrow, and quietly turned back to Green Bamboo Pavilion.

Ji Fanyi, watching her retreating figure, eyes contemplative, handed her two books the next day—one titled “The Golden Prescription,” the other “Divine Elixirs.” “Nineteen, you must make every medicine in these books, a hundred bottles of each. Once I’ve tested and approved them, you may leave to seek your family.”

An Yi’s eyes lit up. “Master, you’re really letting me go?”

“Of course. Once you’ve mastered your arts, you must go out and gain experience. What, do you plan to cling to me forever? I—your master—don’t keep idlers around,” Ji Fanyi said sternly.

“Master, I’ll do my best to make every medicine properly,” An Yi replied with a soft smile.

Ji Fanyi glared at her. “Don’t just focus on making medicine—study everything else just as diligently. Don’t embarrass me when you go out into the world.”

“I will, Master. I won’t let you down,” An Yi promised.

At the start of May, after a month and a half of incubation, six little snakes hatched. Ji Fanyi picked out a golden-banded and a silver-banded one, cradled them in her hands, and sought out An Yi. “Nineteen, look, aren’t they adorable?”

An Yi glanced at them and replied perfunctorily, “Adorable.” She continued searching the medicine cabinets while reading “The Golden Prescription.” “Four taels of rue, four taels of camphor, two qian of calomel, two qian of—”

“Nineteen!” Ji Fanyi snatched the book from An Yi’s hands with a swift move. “You little brat, how dare you ignore your master!”

An Yi looked at her. “Master, I didn’t ignore you. I said they were adorable.”

“You just glanced at them with the corner of your eye. You’re just humoring me,” Ji Fanyi grumbled.

An Yi sighed inwardly and gave the snakes a proper look. “They are very cute. Have you named them, Master?”

“They’re for you. You name them yourself. When their teeth grow in, remember to pull them out,” Ji Fanyi said, tossing the two snakes to her.

An Yi was not afraid of snakes, but she had never intended to keep any as pets. She disliked their cold touch and threw them back to Ji Fanyi. “Master, I don’t want them. I don’t like keeping snakes.”

“If not snakes, what do you want? Scorpions? Spiders? Centipedes?”

“I don’t want to keep anything at all,” An Yi replied, retrieving her book from Ji Fanyi.

“These aren’t for fun, they’re for your protection,” Ji Fanyi said, shoving the snakes at her again.

An Yi looked at the two snakes in her hands, raised an eyebrow, and tossed the golden-banded one into a wine jar to steep in alcohol. She kept the silver-banded one for seven days, then dried it to make medicinal snake powder.

Ji Fanyi looked at the two unfortunate snakes and said nothing, turning away.

An Yi, busy concocting medicine, didn’t notice her master’s silent departure.

One day in June, just as An Yi was preparing for her medicinal bath in the stone house, Aunt Chen came in and bowed. “Miss Nineteen, the people from the herb garden have brought medicines. Please come to the side gate to receive them.”

Five carts piled high with all kinds of medicinal herbs arrived, putting An Yi’s worries about shortages at ease. Aside from eating, sleeping, and practicing, she spent all her days holed up in the stone house making medicine. Whatever she finished, Ji Fanyi would inspect and then sell at high prices in the martial world.