Grand Opening, Part 1

Su Qing leapt into the sea of clouds, enveloped by overwhelming panic as she plummeted deeper.

Her hair and clothes whipped upward, and she suddenly realized: clouds didn’t feel distinct to the touch.

As a child, gazing at the sky, she’d longed to touch the clouds, wondering if they were as soft as imagined.

That childhood wish lingered, unfulfilled even as she grew. But now, with her mortal hands, she touched them!

Manqing Sword surged upward, breaking through the mist. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

She soared higher, heart pounding fiercely, blood roaring in her ears.

The view was breathtaking—Sword Mountain in autumn-winter, a vibrant ocean of red, yellow, purple, and green. Flying above the forest, trees danced wildly below, waves of foliage rolling.

Ancient Sword Sect buildings dotted the peaks. Tiny figures below looked like grains of rice. The familiar sect scenery, seen from above, held a new charm.

Spiraling from the peak to the mountainside, Mirror Lake gleamed like a sapphire, the mountain’s radiant heart. Countless streams flowed from it, wrapping the main peak, nourishing countless lives.

Flying over a waterfall, its thunderous roar and misty spray dampened her clothes and hair, yet felt weightless. Emerging from the mist, Su Qing felt refreshed, her heart expansive.

Lost in flight, she danced with nature, intoxicated.

Shedding gravity and her cumbersome body, she yearned upward, upward, upward. This innate longing for the sky, the thrill of wielding hard-earned power against the heavens, was intoxicating.

No wonder tales of immortality endured from ancient times to the modern era.

It was exhilarating!

Before her qi faltered, Su Qing slowed Manqing Sword, descending until half a meter from the ground, then leapt off gracefully. She recalled the sword, standing before her.

The wax coating on the two pills had softened in her mouth, tasting awful.

She didn’t care—she’d mastered sword flight, gaining a vital skill.

She’d profited.

…

Su Qing spent three days traveling to and from the mountain, gathering materials and crafting new teas for tasting. After finalizing the main menu, a week had passed.

Her shop took shape under relentless work. Complex carpentry she couldn’t handle was outsourced to professionals—efficiency and results mattered most.

The storefront was her focus. Its narrow width limited signage, but she defied convention, forgoing a heavy plaque for three bold characters: **Honey Spirit Tea**

The name was deliberate. “Honey” highlighted sweetness, “Spirit” hinted at the trace qi in her teas—negligible but present. “Tea” clarified her business.

No one could mistake her shop’s purpose.

The red, eye-catching characters, inlaid with glowstone, shone at night.

Su Qing was thrilled, but the carpenter frowned, as if his reputation was at stake.

“No decorum, no decorum,” he muttered, pleading, “Don’t say I worked on this.”

“Why not?” Su Qing teased.

Looking pained, he groaned, “It’ll ruin my name—how’ll I get work?”

Su Qing “oh-ed,” boasting, “With my storefront, you’ll be swimming in jobs.”

As the employer, she had the upper hand. The carpenter, despite his “this kid’s delusional” look, held his tongue.

Passersby from the Pill and Talisman Halls chimed in, “Ugh, so crude and gaudy—no elegance, no decorum!”

The carpenter nodded in agreement.

The “Tea” character caught Manager Lin’s eye instantly. Learning it was Su Qing—the one who quit and cursed his wealth—enraged him. He spat “thief” repeatedly.

To him, Su Qing was copying his shop, stealing tricks she’d learned. If she spread them, it’d tarnish his reputation and lower his prestige.

His tea house was refined—brewing, serving, and presenting tea with grace.

But his scout’s animated report eased him.

“The shop’s entrance is tiny—no front door, you detour to the back. No proper signage, just three tacky characters. Everyone’s mocking it—some tasteless nouveau riche, not fit for cultivation. That stubborn girl ignores advice. They say it’ll fold soon and be up for rent.”

Lin nodded smugly, dismissing the scout.

Alone, he laughed heartily.

A naive girl—no threat!

The scout omitted: despite the “tacky” design, **Honey Spirit Tea** stood out. Not the elegant Pill Hall or rustic Talisman Hall drew eyes—it was her shop.

Passersby gasped, “When did a tea shop pop up here?”

After renovations, Su Qing didn’t rush to open. She aired the shop with wind talismans for a week. During this, she erected a large signboard outside, listing her main teas and prices.

She plastered opening ads at dorm entrances and paid for a week of ads on the sect’s confession wall. Her “buy one, get one” opening slogan was loud. If not for tight funds, she’d have composed a catchy jingle for a phonograph stone to loop endlessly.

Others advised subtlety in business, but Su Qing’s boldness made skeptics—especially Lin—mock her over drinks.

The opening was set for the next week.

No almanac was consulted—time was tight.

Her friends were thrilled, especially Tang Yueling, who was sick of tasting teas. Sleepless, she’d find Tianning equally awake, both blaming Su Qing’s potent brews.

Saying “no more,” Tang Yueling still sampled new blends.

“Something’s missing,” she’d say, then warily, “This tea’s not addictive, is it?”

“Not addictive,” Su Qing clarified. “Just a habit.”

Habits could be addictive.

Not everyone loved her teas. Senior Sister Cui Huai preferred plain tea, unmoved by Su Qing’s blends. Su Qing didn’t push—majority approval sufficed.

Senior Brother Zhang Mingliang was hooked. “Without a cup, I can’t focus. With one, everything clicks.”

The opening was joyous. Tang Yueling said, “Finally, no more tasting and reviewing. I’ll support you at the opening.”

“How?” Su Qing teased. “Covering everyone’s tab, Miss Tang?”

“Why not? Easy,” Tang Yueling boasted.

Su Qing thanked her but added, “A few cups are enough advertising. As my friend, you get perks. Bring people—it’s free for you and Tianning. For new items, I’ll need your first reviews.”

“Drinking’s fine,” Tang Yueling said, wary. “But no more reviews—I’m out of words. Ask Jiang Weed; he’s got plenty to say.”

Su Qing sighed. “He says everything’s good.”

Before opening, one task remained.

…

A month after quitting the tea shop, Su Qing saw Liu Xiaofeng again.

He looked rough—dark eye circles, weary, not like an eleven- or twelve-year-old. Thinner, his legs twig-like in loose pants, fragile as a sapling.

He didn’t know why Su Qing sought him, especially at the workers’ dorm. She’d sent messages through others to reach him.

To him, their months-long acquaintance lacked depth. She, a promising cultivator; he, a lowly worker. Their faint bond should naturally fade.

They spoke by the dorm stairs, creaking under passersby who cast curious glances. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

To avoid stares, they ducked into a dim closet under the stairs, dust and webs overhead. The stairs blocked most light, leaving only shadows.

Su Qing cut to the chase. “I opened a shop. It sells spirit tea.”

Liu Xiaofeng smiled. “Lin’s gonna be pissed.”

Nodding, Su Qing said, “Exactly. I want to steal his business and make him mad—he’s awful. My shop looks unpromising, but every detail’s planned: the counter, menu, tables…”

She detailed her efforts and their intended effects. Liu Xiaofeng, hearing such novel ideas, widened his eyes—could it be done like that?

But so what?

She painted a bright future, one she’d craft, thrilling to imagine. But what did it have to do with him? He nodded, then zoned out, pondering his own uncertain future.

When Su Qing paused, parched, Liu Xiaofeng snapped back, noticing her earnest, bright eyes in the dimness.

“I sound boastful pre-opening, but trust me, this shop has potential!”

She placed a worker plaque between them, her tone slow and firm.

“So, want to join me?”

“I’ll pay better than Lin, and I won’t exploit you—work hard, get fair pay,” she added. “If you excel, I’ll promote and raise you. If you want to hone your cooking, use my shop as a stepping stone, save up, and leave—I won’t mind. You don’t have to stay stuck at Lin’s. There are many paths; we can plan anew.”

She thought: Master Wang’s skills weren’t unmatched, yet Liu Xiaofeng stayed. If fear of no future held him, she could offer a temporary haven.

He was clever and diligent—a win-win hire.

After a long pause, Liu Xiaofeng spoke hoarsely, “I’ve never met someone like you… Are you this kind to everyone?”

“Not at all,” Su Qing quipped. “I’d laugh if Lin or Daniang went jobless, not hire them.”

“But carrying others’ fates is heavy,” he said, pushing the plaque back, his young face serious. “You’re meant for immortality. Don’t let me hold you back. Stay away, I mean it.” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

…

Failing to recruit Liu Xiaofeng disappointed Su Qing, but she didn’t push. Everyone had their reasons, beyond her reach.

If he wanted distance, she’d respect it.

Opening day neared, and she was swamped.

On the big day, Tang Yueling gifted 66 lavish flower baskets, each with a second-tier spirit-gathering array, making her shop’s entrance the dining hall’s most qi-rich spot.

Her small shop didn’t warrant such grandeur.

Opening the window that morning, Su Qing saw a queue stretching across the street, stunning the Pill and Talisman Hall workers.