Friends, Not Companions

After circling the main path three times, Xiu Fu found the man she sought.

He was a middle-aged steward, Wang Bao, with a curled mustache, slight frame, and lean build. His bulging eyes were unsettling, but his smile dripped with false warmth.

Wang Bao, a logistics steward at the Sword Sect, led Xiu Fu to a secluded path.

“Is it true?” she asked urgently.

“Of course!” He stroked his mustache, smirking. “If you keep your word.”

Xiu Fu didn’t hesitate. “I will, if you prove the two pills work. I’ll go to the steward and withdraw at once.”

Wang Bao shook his head, feigning offense at her doubt. He produced a vial, tipping a translucent pill, faintly glowing, into her hand.

“This is a Tier-2, Grade-3 Essence-Solidifying Pill. Try it.”

Test it?

Xiu Fu wavered.

But how else to be sure?

Surely, in the Sword Sect, he wouldn’t harm her.

“This test pill doesn’t count toward the two?”

He waved impatiently. “No, no, just try it.”

Xiu Fu steeled herself, swallowing it.

The pill melted instantly.

A warm current surged through her limbs, soothing her entire body.

The warmth pooled at her heart meridian, seeping in, her heart beating steadily, nourished.

It worked.

Xiu Fu knew instantly: this was the medicine she needed.

Wang Bao grinned smugly. “Well? Want another?”

“No,” she said, suppressing joy. “This is it. We have a deal.”

“Keep your promise,” he warned, tossing her a jade box with two pills. “Or don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

“I gave my word. I won’t break it. Rest assured.”

Watching her leave, Wang Bao sneered inwardly. Mortals, every one of them, were shallow, chasing petty gains.

He used spirit stones and pills to screen students for the sect. Those with weak Dao hearts were better weeded out early, saving resources.

As he mused, a figure emerged, fawning. “Steward Wang, how many is that?”

Wang Bao glanced coolly. “Thanks for your concern, Steward Sun. Barely over fifty. Nowhere near your tally.”

Fifty!

Sun calculated quickly.

The higher-ups didn’t care for small sums, generously offering each withdrawing student a hundred spirit stones.

Wang Bao, black-hearted, pocketed nine-tenths.

The Essence-Solidifying Pill he gave the girl, though costly when specially refined, was common in bulk—one furnace yielded dozens, worth ten spirit stones each.

From her alone, he’d pocketed seventy stones.

Thousands in total, plus the gratitude of those he “helped.” They all praised him.

Thinking of Wang’s absurd rumors—profitable lies—Sun burned with envy and admiration. “I knew Steward Wang was destined for great things. Next time, bring me along!”

Wang Bao’s smile was hollow. “Of course, next time.”

Inwardly, he scoffed: This fool doesn’t know how I slaved, bribed, and groveled to curry favor with the higher-ups. Bring him? Dream on!

Su Qing woke to dusk. Sleeping till evening felt indulgent.

Sitting up, her head throbbed from oversleeping. She stared at the floor, blinking slowly, gradually clearing her mind.

Waking to a dim room often brought loneliness, a sense of abandonment. With Xiu Fu nearby, Su Qing felt none of it.

They went for dinner. Stuffed, Su Qing needed a walk to settle her stomach.

The mountain’s beauty was striking. As the golden-red sun sank into clouds, painting the horizon in reds, purples, yellows, and oranges, green bamboo rustled in the breeze. Su Qing sighed, hand on hip. “So beautiful.”

Only then did she notice Xiu Fu’s silence.

“Xiu Fu, what’s wrong? Feeling low? Homesick?”

Xiu Fu, who’d been wrestling with her thoughts, struggled to speak. She could keep secrets but found it hard to initiate tough talks.

She’d rehearsed her words, but Su Qing’s question unraveled them. They spilled out, jumbled, unlike her plan.

“Su Qing, I’m leaving.” She paused, forcing it out. “I made a deal with a Steward Wang. He gave me life-saving pills, and I’ll withdraw.”

Su Qing froze, as if struck mid-dream, her face paling.

“I can’t stay. My mother and grandmother can’t wait—”

Su Qing grabbed her hand, pulling her. “We’ll find Steward Chen Yu now. I’ll work for her—she’ll let us owe her.”

Xiu Fu stumbled, took two steps, then stopped, whispering, “I promised Wang. I took the pills. I can’t break my word. And they’re costly—why drag you into debt?”

“It’s not fair,” Su Qing said, frantic. “You don’t get it—these pills are cheap, just not for us!”

Her mind flashed white, words failing. Seeing Xiu Fu’s guilty face, something in her chest threatened to burst.

“Xiu Fu, listen. Pills, spirit stones, robes, artifacts, even that absurd washing machine—all these lofty things are cheap to them, worthless.”

“Don’t be scared. Chen Yu will help. Let’s go to her now…”

Xiu Fu’s lips trembled, eyes wet, but she didn’t move. Su Qing gripped her hand, two arms’ lengths apart, locked in a standoff.

Her voice turned pleading. “Xiu Fu, trust me. Don’t rush, okay?”

“That Wang’s no good. The pills you want mean nothing to them. Why trade our chance for their scraps? It’s not fair.”

“You can’t give up here. If you do, you’ll miss something huge—something you don’t even know yet.”

Her words were chaotic, grasping at straws. She knew the truth but couldn’t articulate it. The more she spoke, the stranger it sounded, the more defeated she felt. She repeated, “Don’t rush,” “Trust me.”

But Xiu Fu listened intently.

Her gentle, dark eyes, on her clear, lovely face, glowed like fireflies in the night—wet fireflies, tears streaking her soft cheeks.

She squeezed Su Qing’s hand, feeling her friend’s panic. “I know, I know. Don’t rush. Listen to me.”

Xiu Fu studied her friend—her stubborn brows, the unyielding pride beneath her plain exterior.

Brave, kind, just, caring. They’d known each other briefly, but Xiu Fu felt she’d never meet another like her. Only fate could spark such a friendship.

She couldn’t dodge this talk. She had to be clear. Evading would betray their bond, hurt Su Qing.

She hadn’t meant to wound her, but she already had.

It cut like a knife.

Tears streamed down Xiu Fu’s face, glinting in the dark. She spoke her truth, raw and undeniable. “Su Qing, I’m scared of this life.”

“I want peace, simple days, like in Little Shu Village. You’re restless, always moving. I’m used to that quiet life. I don’t want to leave my mother, my grandmother. Living a hundred, two hundred years—it terrifies me, lonely and awful.”

“I lack the courage to wield a sword or harm others. Thinking I might make someone bleed or cry scares me senseless. A coward like me can’t be an immortal. How could I?”

“Every day here frightens me. I’m not even as brave as Xing’er—she could quit. I only stayed for my mother’s illness. Now that I can leave, I’m relieved…”

“This is my truth. I’m not brave, Su Qing. I’m sorry to leave you alone…”

Her eyes widened, seeing tears in Su Qing’s eyes.

Panicked, she wiped Su Qing’s face with her sleeve. Only when damp fabric pressed her cheek did Su Qing realize she was crying.

Starvation hadn’t broken her, wolves hadn’t, escaping the Qi Clan hadn’t. She thought she was beyond tears, but they wouldn’t stop.

Because she knew she couldn’t keep Xiu Fu. She’d be alone again.

“But Xiu Fu, what if you regret it later?”

Su Qing sat listlessly in the cafeteria. She’d eaten but returned, unsure what else to do. Xiu Fu was packing in the dorm, and Su Qing didn’t want to watch her leave, though she had no right to stop her.

She realized their bond: friends, yes, but not companions. Their hearts were close, but their paths diverged.

Her mood was grim, stomach churning with hunger pangs, urging a binge—free food today, why not? But she couldn’t eat, just sat, staring, thinking nothing, eyes sore but dry.

Maybe tears fell, but why did her heart still ache?

She’d parted with friends before, but this hurt more. Xiu Fu had been her anchor in this world, by her side every day, her gentle words a comfort.

Lost in thought, a wet, sticky sensation jolted her. She leapt up, startled.

A dog was licking her face.

It looked familiar—a husky-Alaskan mix, tongue lolling, panting, black-bean eyes radiating idiocy.

It seemed eager for another lick.

“Where’d this dog come from?” Su Qing asked, wary.

“Sorry, sorry!” The noon pet-tamer cultivator rushed over, hands clasped, grinning. “Don’t mind this dumb dog. How about I treat you to lamb chops?”

Su Qing couldn’t eat. She frowned. “Why’s it licking me?”

“You were crying…”

“Was I?”

“Yeah.” The woman scratched her head, awkward. “Hard to tell, but this mutt has a trace of Nightmare Beast blood. Nightmares feed on emotions. This idiot loves dung, but sometimes it craves emotions for a mood boost.”

It hadn’t just eaten dung, right?

Su Qing stared blankly. “What… emotion am I feeling?”

The woman paused, closed her eyes, savoring. “Bitter, astringent, spicy. Sadness, anger, reluctance, disappointment—complex, tough to swallow. I wanna cry too… Sour, you’re regretting. I hate regret’s taste. If you’ve got something to do, do it.”

Su Qing echoed dazedly, “I’m regretting?”

The woman nodded, grimacing. “Super sour.” The dog barked in agreement.

“I’m regretting…”

Snapping awake, Su Qing pushed the dog’s head away and bolted.

She sprinted through the night to the dorm. Xiu Fu was gone, her belongings too. Su Qing raced to the mountain gate, heart pounding, breath ragged.

Faster, faster.

At the gate, darkness stretched endlessly. She saw nothing.

Too late?

Her heart sank. Scanning the area, finding nothing, she turned back, defeated.

“Su Qing.”

Someone called. She looked up mechanically—it was Chen Yu.

“You’re here to see Li Xiu Fu off?” Chen Yu asked.

Su Qing nodded, tears threatening. “Teacher—I…”

“Come with me. You can still make it.” Chen Yu pulled her close, her arm firm against Su Qing’s back, lending strength. “Everyone has their own fate. Staying isn’t always good, leaving isn’t always bad. Everyone has their path. Go say goodbye.”

They hurried to the back mountain, where Su Qing saw a skiff.

It floated above the deep green forest sea, swaying as the wind stirred the trees, ready to depart. White sails billowed, the boat gliding above the canopy, gaining speed down the slope.

Su Qing spotted Xiu Fu at the stern, standing, gazing below, lost in thought.

“Xiu Fu—!”

Xiu Fu turned, shocked, recognizing Su Qing. She waved. “Su Qing—I’m here!”

Su Qing shouted, “Go, Xiu Fu!” She ran a few steps. “Walk your path! I’m here—if you regret it, you can always try again!”

Xiu Fu’s voice carried back, mingled with the wind. “Write to me—for two hundred years, keep writing!”

Su Qing’s tears fell, transparent drops scattering in the air.

Chen Yu smiled lightly. “Trying again isn’t easy, you know.”

“I know,” Su Qing said, wiping her eyes.

She repeated, “I know.”

It was late, past 9 p.m.

The Food Hall had closed.

Some students still sneaked into the kitchen, bribing friendly cooks for leftovers, even midday scraps.

But officially, no service.

Chen Yu entered the kitchen then.

A regular, she’d worked here as a student for extra funds and kept coming as a steward. Cooks, apprentices, and workers were so used to her, they’d remark if she missed a day.

A familiar cook grinned. “Steward Chen, fresh crabs today. Let the rice vendor grab you a couple for your wine!”

Chen Yu smiled back. “Thanks for the tip. My mouth’s craving something fresh. And two taels of Shaoxing white—crabs need it to shine.”

The cook laughed. “Steward Chen knows how to eat, better than us!”

An apprentice whispered, “Steward Chen’s so kind. A high-ranking academy steward, yet she talks to us warmly, always smiling, never angry. They say nobles have big hearts—no wonder she’s risen so far!”

Stewards varied, and the Sword Sect was vast, with diverse roles. But one rule held: stewards closer to students wielded more power and had brighter prospects. Chen Yu was among the most promising young stewards.

Yet, this woman, warm as spring, smiling at all, changed in a private room, sealing it with high-grade silencing talismans.

Facing the rice vendor and wine elder, her face turned icy, her voice sharp as a blade. “Wang Bao, that vile cur, groveling, deceiving, has cost the Sword Sect a hundred disciples. I’ll have his head!”

The wine elder slammed the table. “Need my hand? Let him die drunk in a dream, quiet and clean.”

“Wang Bao’s just a lapdog,” the rice vendor said, eyes dark. “A poorly trained dog reflects its master. Chen Yu, if you strike, don’t just hit the dog—take down its owner too. Otherwise, don’t move, lest you alert the snake.”

Chen Yu pondered, inspired by the girl, Su Qing, she’d met earlier. She could use Su Qing’s tactics against the Qi Clan to uproot Wang Bao.

“The Elixir Gate’s procurement steward, Xia, retires soon. He asked Master Qiu to find a successor. Qiu asked if I was interested—I declined, but she’s struggled to find a fit. Why not open it for public nomination and selection…”

She trailed off, but the rice vendor caught her drift.

Her gaze approved. “Pity we let that rat skim oil so long. No matter—it’s not urgent. What he took from the Sect, he’ll spit back, flesh and bone.”