Regret

For a moment, Wen Chaoxuan found it difficult to articulate his feelings.

Perhaps it was a complex blend, tinged with a measure of guilt.

To see his disciple, now a handsome and promising young man, yet utterly ignorant of even the most fundamental aspects of human intimacy (TL Note: The Chinese term ‘dunlun zhi shi’ refers to marital duties or sexual relations, often in a familial or traditional context.), asking such a question like a clueless child—it truly made him realize his own partial responsibility.

From childhood, Wen Chaoxuan, as his master, had imparted knowledge in every conceivable area to Lin Langyao.

However, a master’s abilities were limited, and it was impossible to teach every single detail.

For years, the master and disciple had lived in seclusion on Qintian Peak.

While not entirely cut off from the world, other rogue cultivators did reside on nearby peaks.

Yet, Wen Chaoxuan’s solitary nature meant he rarely interacted with others; their acquaintance amounted to little more than a nod, a mutual awareness of a fellow Daoist’s presence in the vicinity, and nothing more.

Furthermore, fearing Lin Langyao’s potential for mischief, Wen Chaoxuan had always kept him close, preventing him from leaving the mountain.

Consequently, for decades, master and disciple had spent every waking moment together, seldom encountering a third living soul beyond themselves.

Within Lin Langyao’s understanding, the intricacies of human relationships were exceedingly superficial, extending no further than simple appellations like “husband and wife” or “Dao companions.”

As for what a man and woman actually did once they formed a pair, his mind remained a complete blank.

Over those decades, having never interacted with the secular world, Lin Langyao had never considered asking such questions.

Wen Chaoxuan, at first, had not thought to proactively discuss these matters with him.

Later, when the thought did occur, he saw Lin Langyao growing up, his personality becoming increasingly uncontainable.

Fearing that teaching him such things might stir romantic inclinations in the young man, making him less focused on cultivation, Wen Chaoxuan had temporarily set the matter aside.

Thus, it had been delayed longer and longer, until now…

Wen Chaoxuan gazed at Lin Langyao with an expressionless face, his mind racing through countless thoughts.

He closed his eyes briefly before speaking, “You… this is not some demonic cultivation technique.

Put it back for now, and I will explain it to you later…”

“No need to put it back,” Lin Langyao interjected.

“There are many identical copies here.”

Many copies?

A sudden sense of unease settled upon Wen Chaoxuan.

He instructed Lin Langyao to step aside and began to rummage through the bookshelf where the dual cultivation manuals were found.

Indeed, just as Lin Langyao had stated, the shelf was filled with numerous identical copies of the technique.

This was certainly peculiar.

Regardless of the character of the Lu Clan Manor’s former or current masters, they were, in name, always considered a prestigious righteous sect in the cultivation world.

It was inconceivable that they would widely instruct their disciples in dual cultivation techniques.

So why, then, would a sect master keep so many dual cultivation books in their room?

He swiftly changed his mind.

Turning to Lin Langyao, he commanded, “First, put away these books.

Then, let us search further; there must be other clues.”

****

The master and disciple continued their search within the room for a while longer.

Lin Langyao, it turned out, possessed a remarkable talent for uncovering hidden items.

He nearly turned Lu Wenhan’s (TL Note: Lu Wenhan is the previous master of Lu Clan Manor.) entire past inside out.

He unearthed various items: correspondence between sects, daily lesson critiques for the manor’s disciples, and even some flowery, flirtatious poems.

Lin Langyao glanced through them, noticing the signature “A Certain Immortaless,” which suggested the sender was a female cultivator.

“What a shameless scoundrel!” Lin Langyao scoffed, clutching the letter.

“His son is already so grown, yet he’s still exchanging romantic sentiments with others.

If this letter were to get out, wouldn’t it utterly ruin his reputation?”

He had not even finished his tirade when he suddenly heard Wen Chaoxuan calling out to him.

Immediately, he scurried over, letter in hand, eager to present his findings.

However, Wen Chaoxuan paid no heed to his effusive chatter.

Instead, he stood deep in thought before a full-length dressing mirror, a rhombus-patterned mirror clutched in his hand.

“Tell me, is it possible,” Wen Chaoxuan mused aloud, lost in thought, “that mirrors possess unique properties, allowing for a certain connection between artifacts forged from them?”

“What kind of connection?” Lin Langyao asked, his curiosity piqued.

Wen Chaoxuan turned to explain, but his gaze landed on his unfortunate disciple and instantly froze.

Lin Langyao’s current appearance… was truly a sight to behold, somewhat uninhibited.

The woman’s skirt was simply too long, trailing on the ground, and Lin Langyao, busy rummaging through chests and cabinets, had grown increasingly frustrated by tripping over it.

Reasoning that no one else was around to see, he had simply gathered the skirt, crossed it beneath his knees, and tied a loose knot, forming a pair of makeshift, baggy trousers.

At this moment, he stood before Wen Chaoxuan, his two bare legs fully exposed.

His appearance was utterly preposterous, making Wen Chaoxuan nearly erupt in anger once more.

Suppressing his irritation, he snapped, “What kind of sight is this? Quickly, put the skirt down.”

Lin Langyao, thick-skinned as ever, chuckled heedlessly.

“It’s convenient for moving around like this,” he countered.

“I’m not some genuine young lady from a prestigious family; why bother with so many rules?

Besides, there’s no one else here anyway.”

However, Wen Chaoxuan paid no mind to his reasoning.

Seeing Lin Langyao stand unmoving, he simply strode over and took action himself.

His sudden gesture was so far beyond Lin Langyao’s imagination that it nearly made him jump.

Before Lin Langyao, Wen Chaoxuan knelt down.

He personally untied the knot of the skirt that was cinched around Lin Langyao’s legs.

The fabric then fell naturally, covering his bare legs.

Wen Chaoxuan even reached out to smooth it down properly before finally rising with a satisfied air.

It was not until Wen Chaoxuan had stood up again that Lin Langyao fully processed what had occurred.

He promptly leaped a step backward, gaping in astonishment at Wen Chaoxuan’s familiar, placid face.

‘How odd, utterly bizarre,’ he thought.

‘Perhaps, fearing he’d be beaten to death by an enraged Wen Chaoxuan, he really wanted to test if his master had been possessed.’

When had Wen Chaoxuan ever been so considerate and gentle with him in the past?

Compared to Wen Chaoxuan’s usual strictness, this was truly the height of tenderness.

Lin Langyao had already found it strange when Wen Chaoxuan hadn’t disciplined him for chasing and attacking Qiu Yan (TL Note: Qiu Yan is a character previously mentioned in the story.) in front of so many people.

Later, after they had left, Wen Chaoxuan had even styled his hair for him.

Now, he had condescended to squat down and tidy his skirt.

All of this was so anomalous that Lin Langyao was beginning to wonder if Wen Chaoxuan was treating him like a female disciple.

After a moment of hesitation, Lin Langyao suddenly feigned coyness, twirling a strand of hair by his temple as he sidled up to Wen Chaoxuan.

“Master,” he purred, “do you think I look pretty like this?…”

Wen Chaoxuan, who had been preparing to cast a spell on the dressing mirror, remained speechless.

Catching a glimpse of Wen Chaoxuan’s fingers suddenly twitching, Lin Langyao instantly clutched his head and bolted several steps away.

‘Thank goodness, thank goodness,’ he thought.

‘Master is still normal after all.’

However, the imagined scenario of being thrashed across the floor by the Heaven-Bearing Sword did not materialize.

The room remained silent.

Wen Chaoxuan simply frowned, gazing at him.

“…What kind of hysteria is this?” he asked.

Lin Langyao stood foolishly, his mouth agape, a wave of profound sorrow washing over him.

He wished for nothing more than for two streams of bitter tears to roll down his cheeks.

‘If only I had known this day would come, I wouldn’t have acted as I did back then,’ he lamented.

‘If only I had known, if only I had known Wen Chaoxuan preferred female disciples, I should have been reborn as a girl!’

‘Perhaps then—as a child—I would have received far fewer beatings!’

Unaware of Lin Langyao’s wild conjectures, Wen Chaoxuan infused spiritual energy into the small bronze mirror he held.

Once the mirror began to glow, he pressed the rhombus-patterned bronze mirror against the large dressing mirror before him.

Immediately, the surface of the larger mirror, influenced by the white light of his spiritual energy, rippled like water, giving way to a blurred image.