The hut the Immortal Master had told her about stood at the foot of Yunliu Mountain. It looked dilapidated beyond belief—one good gust and the whole thing would come apart.
"Song of my thatched hut, wrecked by the autumn wind," Qian Yu quoted, gulping air. She had barely stopped once the whole way here, terrified that slowing down meant getting entangled by something out of nowhere.
"Creeeak—"
The wooden door swung open; Qian Yu fanned away the dust it kicked up.
Inside was even more wrecked than outside.
One-handed, she peeled the sopping straw off the wooden-frame bed, looked left and right, then finally took off her outer robe and laid it down as a sheet.
Qian Duoduo woke the moment his body touched the bed, but he was good—two little coos, no crying, no fussing.
"There, lie down by yourself a bit while Mama tidies up." Qian Yu, who had never raised a child in her life, slipped into the role of mother without thinking. She sighed softly and turned to clean up.
She tossed the wet straw out of the hut, but found no dry grass anywhere nearby. With night coming on, going out to forage was a bad idea.
So she gathered a few sticks of firewood, thought about it, and carried the wet straw back in.
Night fell, it seemed, in a single blink.
Qian Yu lit a fire inside, ringed it with stones to keep the flames penned in, then laid the wet straw out around it—out of reach of the tongues of fire, but perfectly placed for the heat to bake them dry.
"I'm a genius," she told herself, fiercely.
The night deepened.
After a few bites of steamed bun, Qian Yu was nodding off, bobbing Qian Duoduo in her arms, nearly toppling over.
Judging the straw dry enough, she settled the baby down, got up, and carried the thatch back to the bed.
"Ahh, a toasty-warm bed," Qian Yu thought gleefully.
But the moment she picked up an armful of straw, someone began pounding madly on the wooden door.
"Bam bam bam—"
Fast and desperate, like a ghost was chasing whoever it was.
And since there really were ghosts here, Qian Yu didn't dare move.
"Who... who is it?" she asked, with no confidence at all.
"Hello? Anyone there?" It was a man's voice outside. "Anyone? Open the door, quick, let me in!"
The voice was full of wind, full of vigor—somebody in excellent health.
"Wh-who are you?" Qian Yu dropped the straw and pressed herself against the back of the door.
"Never mind who I am—please, just open the door first, there's something chasing me!"
"What thing?"
"A GHOST, AAAAAAH—"
The pounding grew more frantic. She could hear the man stomping his feet between blows, and there were tears in his shouting.
How pitiful.
Qian Yu's benevolence overflowed. She drew back the bolt.
The man shoved the door open and slipped in like a rat, then flipped around and re-locked the door at lightning speed.
He leaned against it, gulping air, dead white, plainly scared out of his wits.
Qian Yu knew—and had personally experienced—how eerie this mountain was, so she didn't find the reaction exaggerated. If anything she felt for him.
"You came down from up the mountain?"
The man didn't look that old—there was still baby fat at his jaw that hadn't faded.
—Oh right. That's called baby fat.
she corrected herself silently.
He didn't seem offended by her staring.
He said: "Up the mountain? I wouldn't dare set foot on this mountain."
As if Qian Yu had told the funniest joke in the world.
"Why not?"
"Why not what?"
"Well..." Qian Yu organized her words. She remembered what Xie Yingying had said: "Amu kills every male creature on this mountain."
"Who's Amu?" She picked the simplest question she had.
Now it was the man's turn to stare. But his eyes were guileless, and she didn't feel offended—just puzzled. "What?"
"Mm... where did you come from?"
What—had he seen through her transmigration in one glance?
Qian Yu's face didn't change. In the space of a breath she drafted several answers and decided to lob the question back: "Shouldn't I be asking that? Who are you, and what are you doing out here this late?"
"I—am the number one sword immortal under heaven—Xu Changhuan!"
The boy suddenly lit up with enthusiasm and struck a tremendously cool pose.
"Wooow—" Qian Yu clapped, clap clap clap.
"Wow, that was enthusiastic." Xu Changhuan dropped his arms. "Anyway, I'm a wandering immortal, just passing through on my travels. Only I misjudged my timing and only made it to this hut now."
So that was it.
Qian Yu rubbed her chin. Wandering immortal? Number one sword immortal under heaven? Mid-thought she noticed him giving her a deeply skeptical look, so she balled a fist in front of her mouth and coughed, covering: "I'm Qian Yu. An ordinary person, just passing through. I happened to hear strange stories about this mountain and couldn't quite believe them, so I thought I'd ask around."
"Oh. A mortal..."
No need to say it so pitifully. Mortal this, immortal that.
Qian Yu felt Xu Changhuan sizing her up again. To be fair, she was a mortal with no special abilities whatsoever—or she'd have seen the thin film of "qi" over his eyes.
He was checking for "spirit" on her body. Anyone who cultivated would carry a layer of their own "spirit," and the stronger the cultivator, the thicker the layer.
After a while Xu Changhuan smiled again. "I see. My apologies, miss."
Qian Yu shook her head. "So—can you tell me what Amu is now?"
Xu Changhuan opened his mouth to answer—and just then, Qian Duoduo started wailing.
"Eh?"
Qian Yu hurried over, scooped up the baby, and rocked him.
Xu Changhuan followed, peering curiously at the little fellow. "This is your kid?"
"Mm... yes."
"Honestly, I couldn't tell. You look so young."
Young indeed. Last time around she had only been nineteen.
"No wait—your bone structure says seventeen or eighteen, tops."
Qian Yu smiled awkwardly. "Don't get the wrong idea. I picked this baby up on the roadside. He's tiny, we don't know who his parents are, so I'm keeping him with me."
Xu Changhuan nodded, eyes shining, evidently a few degrees more admiring.
"I knew you were a good person."
Since when did I get handed a good-person card?
"I was picked up by my master too. Looking at you now, I feel so close to you."
So you hated my guts just now, huh.
Xu Changhuan grinned sheepishly.
Qian Duoduo kept crying and crying, and Qian Yu shifted him from arm to arm. First time raising a child, no idea how to read baby-talk, no clue what was wrong.
Dirty diaper? Hungry? Frightened?
He didn't eat ordinary food. Earlier Qian Yu had tried feeding him mashed bun; he swallowed it and spat it right back up, but back then he hadn't cried or fussed—very well-behaved.
"Maybe he's hungry?" Xu Changhuan suggested.
Qian Yu shook her head.
For a moment, both of them were at a loss. Then the firelight flickered twice—no wind—and their shadows shivered on the wall along with it. It scared the pair of them at the same time.
"What was that."
"Shh." Xu Changhuan suddenly hushed her. The little hut went silent except for the crackle of the fire eating the wood—and Qian Duoduo's ceaseless wailing.