The stir-fried pork liver Qiu Wuji had haggled so hard to buy today — Chu Ge never got a taste of it.
Because after he drank that cup of tea, he'd gone into meditation...
Qiu Wuji ate alone in a huff, shoved the leftovers into the fridge with a sour face, and thoroughly regretted giving him tea before dinner. She never should have shown off that treasure.
She should have thought of it earlier. He wasn't a cultivator like her, long steeped in spiritual energy — you could say he was parched land meeting its first sweet rain. A first brush with spiritual-energy cleansing was exactly like someone shut up in a sealed room suddenly breathing fresh air; that moment of fresh-air drunkenness was entirely normal.
Once he got used to it, it would stop. The spiritual energy carried by that zisha pot was thin to begin with; once he was accustomed to it, the tea would be nothing more than healthful drinking water.
Still, this time really did mean something. Maybe he'd wake from this meditation with a breakthrough — and who knew, perhaps he'd even push through that little Golden Bell Shield bottleneck in one go while he was at it.
Speaking of which, what was his Golden Bell Shield's minor-mastery bottleneck again? That art seems to have been rewritten by him...
Ugh, why did he go and fiddle with it?!
Qiu Wuji sighed. In the end she didn't disturb Chu Ge; thinking it over, his meditation had come on so suddenly that she couldn't judge how long it would last, so she posted a notice in the group chat and pinned it in the review section: "Big Chu isn't feeling well today, so the update is just what went up this morning — nothing more."
A truly dutiful assistant, right here. I'll have to make him pay me more.
The group was thrown into confusion: "What, Big Chu has been going full throttle for almost two months — you mean he's worn himself out?"
"Then let him rest up. No need to rush over a day or two."
"Is he sick? A cold?"
Watching this, Qiu Wuji felt a little warm inside. Say what you like about these guys cursing "Shorty Ge" and "cliffhanger hound" all day long — when something really happened, they did care about Chu Ge. Maybe it was the trust he'd built up; diligent writers like him really were rare.
"It's nothing much, just a small cold," Qiu Wuji began lying on his behalf. "A little rest and he'll most likely be fine by tomorrow."
"Oh, good, that's... wait a second!"
The group had spotted the blind spot: "Sect Master Qiu! My Qiuqiu! Are you actually living with Big Chu?!"
Qiu Wuji panicked: "What are you talking about? Do you all want another mute?"
The Conan squad of the group pointed out: "Otherwise, how do you know Big Chu's situation so well? Knowing he's sick the moment it happens is one thing, but you know what he's got, how bad it is, and when he'll recover!"
"Pfft, is that all?" Qiu Wuji sent a disdainful emoji. "Don't you know now, too?"
The group chat: "?"
"It's just that Big Chu messaged me privately. Is something that simple so hard to figure out?"
"We still don't think it adds up... Why wouldn't he say it in the group himself? Why message you first and have you make the announcement?"
Qiu Wuji bit her lower lip, typing with three times her usual force: "He wants to get with me — is that news to you?!"
The group went quiet for a moment, then rose in revolt: "How come? Being the author makes him special? He gets to reserve Qiuqiu?"
"Send Shorty Ge packing! Qiuqiu is mine!"
"Rebellion! Rebellion! I'm starting a rebellion!"
Qiu Wuji enabled mute-all for the whole group.
The world was quiet.
Qiu Wuji let out a breath. She'd bluffed her way past that one... as long as no one had solid proof that a female fan was living with him, it was fine.
Her face was still a little warm. I actually said it out loud — that he wants to get with me...
Was muting everyone a bad idea? It might give him a bad image... Qiu Wuji sneaked a look, then quietly lifted the mute. Then, apparently afraid of the rebellion surging up in one wave, she simply closed the group and stopped looking.
This Sect Master has actual work now. I can't be bothered to argue with you lot.
Qiu Wuji opened her document and went back to writing her Autobiography of Qiu Wuji.
This autobiography was far more comfortable than Chu Ge's main story — no daily-update pressure, and she could write as much as she liked. Qiu Wuji leisurely brewed herself a cup of spiritual-energy tea and dug out some milk candy, planning to write a thousand characters a day.
But she'd only written a few lines, just starting to get into the scene, when her gaze sharpened and her heart gave a throb.
Something's happened on my original body's end?
My original body is taking a bath-bath over there — who's peeping!
The details of Chu Ge's meditation this time were rather unfit to be spoken of.
Ever since he'd gotten that spiritual-energy nourishment, his mana had shot up by leaps and bounds; instinctively, Chu Ge had felt a breakthrough would be a matter of a blink.
Instead, he'd run into a peculiar bottleneck.
Because his basic art was the Golden Bell Shield, his qi flow followed the Golden Bell Shield's routes. And the Golden Bell Shield had just now reached its bottleneck as well: the vital gate below the belt needed tempering.
How in the world am I supposed to temper that thing? Stab it with a durian?
Or take a beating? I can't take a beating there.
So his mana came surging madly toward that one spot, battering meridians and acupoints, until Chu Ge was engorged with blood, aching and swollen.
Feels like there's no way through this hurdle at all...
In this kind of passive meditation the consciousness was very hazy; there was only the flow of mana and nothing else. Never mind being unable to stop — it would never even occur to him to stop. All he could do was instinctively search for a solution.
Chu Ge's first unconscious reaction was to think of Qiu Wuji.
If I could just cuddle up to her it'd be fine — that would definitely relieve it... and if we could hehe, then maybe I'd break through, in every sense of the word...
But Qiu Wuji wasn't beside him, and his consciousness was so hazy now that he couldn't even picture what she looked like.
In his dazed state he seemed to see again the scene he'd observed while typing: Chu Tiange talking with someone, about to enter a hidden place.
Why am I watching a bunch of men? I'm not one of those gay bros — where's my Qiuqiu?
Oh, right — this world has a Qiuqiu too!
At the thought, the scene whipped past, as if homing straight in on Qiu Wuji; his gaze had already arrived in the Cloud Edge Mountain, on the back slope of her main peak — a secluded courtyard, a stream pooling into a tarn.
In the swirling mist, water splashing, and faintly visible through it, a hint of snowy white.
Qiu Wuji is taking a bath?
Chu Ge's eyes lit up.
"Splash!" A rush of water sounded in the mountains; Qiu Wuji's original body shrank down low in the water, head raised, eyes blazing, searching for the source of the peeping.
And then she saw Chu Ge's excited face faintly take shape in the void.
Qiu Wuji: "?"
So the pervert was you?
I'm seeing so much more, hehe. Oh, and hiding in the water doesn't cover a thing — there's no blocking the Heavenly Dao's gaze; even her art's protection is useless. The Heavenly Dao sees everything!
You're still looking! Still looking?
Qiu Wuji's head was smoking with rage; her original body sent a flying sword stabbing straight up into the sky.
It went right through. Not a scratch.
The phantom even drifted closer — as if it not only wanted to look, but to cuddle up. Its expression was exactly like the drooling emoji those idiots posted in the QQ group chat.
"You really think this Sect Master has no way to deal with a pervert like you!" Qiu Wuji sneered, withdrew her art, and simply stopped blocking at all.
"Bang!" In the rented apartment, Qiu Wuji furiously kicked Chu Ge's door open, hauled up the cross-legged Chu Ge, and drove a fist into his face with a "thunk": "Pervert, wake up!"
A faint golden glow rose. Chu Ge's head lolled to one side, still wearing that drooling smile, and he didn't wake.
In fact, as if he'd felt Qiu Wuji's touch, he unconsciously hugged his way over instead: "Qiuqiu~ my Qiuqiu~"
Qiu Wuji was fuming from all seven orifices.
They were just messing around in the group chat — and you're taking it for real!
She caught that reaching pervert hand, and viciously threw him over her shoulder: "Die!"
"Thud!" Chu Ge slammed face-down onto the floor, and a certain part of him jabbed right into the floorboards; the pain woke him on the spot, and he curled up on the ground like a shrimp.
In the book world, the Heavenly Dao had taken phantom form, and it hovered in front of Qiu Wuji with its little hands tucked in its sleeves.
Qiu Wuji's willow brows shot up; left hand over her chest, right hand delivered a "smack" of a slap, and the Heavenly Dao dissolved into smoke.
Curled on the floor, Chu Ge opened his eyes.
The golden light turned solid: the Golden Bell Shield's vital gate below the belt had been fully tempered — Golden Bell Shield, minor mastery.
Carefully, he raised his head to look at the glaring Qiu Wuji. He knew perfectly well what had happened, and offered a cautious, apologetic grin: "So... I broke through. I need an energy refill — I'm a bit hungry."
The sole of a women's slipper swelled to fill his vision: "Go die, Chu Ge!"