The servant girl was noticeably more mature and striking than most girls her age, and there was always a faint air of spoiled confidence about her.
When she entered the bathing area, her deep green robe outlined her graceful figure, while her soft pink veil drifted behind her like a quiet echo of her steps.
As usual, she didn't bother knocking.
She simply pushed the cloth door aside and walked in as if it was her own home.
Fang Lin looked up instinctively—and in that brief instant, his will reacted sharply, recognizing the bold, carefree manner in which she carried herself.
Heat pricked at his face as he immediately turned away, feeling a strange mix of awkwardness and alert tension.
The servant girl clicked her tongue lightly, a small spoiled habit she never bothered to hide.
"Hmph… you get flustered too easily," she said, her voice soft but laced with playful arrogance.
"Are you done bathing? We're going to be late for the ceremony."
Even with her teasing attitude and spoiled charm, her presence carried an unusual blend of warmth and quiet authority, something far beyond what one would expect from an ordinary servant.
When Fang Lin's will focused on the servant girl,
he recognized her immediately.
A thought rose quietly in his mind:
"This is Ling Er… the one who has worked in my family since childhood,
together with her mother."
He paused for a brief moment,
then another whisper of emotion surfaced—this time carrying a trace of warmth:
"I've always considered her more than just a servant.
She helped me so many times when I was young… without ever asking anything."
But almost instantly, irritation flickered through him,
and real fang lin muttered to himself:
"Of course she helped…because she is your servant."
Within Fang Lin's will, a quiet whisper surfaced—one he had buried for many years:
"Since childhood… I always cared for her deeply.
I once even thought that if I ever became a true Sword Master,
I would make her my first wife."
His eyes lingered on Ling'er for a brief moment.
A mixture of nostalgia and confusion stirred inside him.
Another thought rose, sharper this time:
"Why is she here right now?
Did she come to take me to the Awakening Ceremony?
But… why send her of all people?"
The questions echoed inside his mind, forming a subtle tension he couldn't shake off.
Ling'er, unaware of the turmoil running beneath his calm expression, simply waited with her usual confidence—arms crossed, soft veil swaying lightly behind her, as if she owned the place.
Suddenly, the real Fang Lin spoke aloud, cutting through all the thoughts swirling in his mind.
"Ah—right! I completely forgot I have to attend the Awakening Ceremony today."
He turned to Ling'er with a straightforward, almost hurried tone.
"So you came to call me? For that… thank you."
He didn't wait for her reaction.
Stepping past her, Fang Lin left the bathing area and walked quickly toward his room, droplets still clinging to his skin as he moved. His expression carried a mix of embarrassment and focus—anything to escape the tension Ling'er always brought with her unexpected entrances.
Reaching his room, he pulled the wooden door open and began changing into his formal robes, preparing himself for the ceremony that would decide the path of his cultivation.
Behind him, Ling'er stood silently for a moment.
Her eyes followed him with an unreadable expression—half annoyance, half something else entirely—before she exhaled and turned toward the courtyard.
Ling'er grumbled inwardly, irritation flickering across her expression:
"Why did the family head send me to fetch this stupid Fang Lin?"
Her face clearly showed the same familiar annoyance—
as if she had absolutely no desire to see him again so soon.
Arms folded, she stood silently by the door, fighting with her own thoughts.
Then—
Creak…
The door opened slowly.
Ling'er turned her head slightly.
From inside stepped out a 15-year-old boy.
Fang Lin.
He was dressed in a new yet simple white robe,
its clean fabric making his presence look calm and composed.
His black hair hung loosely down his back,
and drops of water still fell slowly from the damp strands,
showing he had hurried during his preparation.
On his feet, he wore old brown shoes,
worn out in places,
carrying marks of the hardships he had walked through.
For a moment, Ling'er straightened unconsciously—
not out of respect,
but because some complicated emotion crossed her eyes.
Not hatred… not warmth either…
just something hard to define.
It was as if she wanted to say something the instant she saw him—
but the words refused to come out.
Ling'er narrowed her eyes the moment she saw him.
"Why did you leave your hair open today?" she asked bluntly.
"You never used to do that before."
Fang Lin froze for a heartbeat.
Her words struck him like a pin in a balloon.
A thought rushed through his mind:
"So… the past Fang Lin always kept his hair tied?
I didn't know that."
He quickly shook his head, trying to keep his expression natural.
"N-no, it's nothing," he replied, forcing a casual tone.
"I just felt like doing it today, that's all."
Inside, he was tense.
All he wanted was to avoid raising even a single suspicion—
to make sure no one realized someone entirely different now resided within this body.
To reinforce his act, he added lightly:
"Isn't this hairstyle allowed in the clan?"
His words carried a hint of innocence,
as if he truly believed there was nothing strange about it.
Ling'er stared at him for a moment—
her expression unreadable,
as if comparing this Fang Lin with the one she remembered.
Ling'er's eyes narrowed slightly as another thought surfaced in her mind:
"Ever since that incident… Fang Lin seems completely different.
Before, he never ignored me—he only ever worried about me.
Did he somehow find out that…"
She abruptly stopped the thought there, refusing to follow it any further.
Whatever suspicion she had, she buried it deep.
Straightening herself, she spoke aloud in her usual brisk tone:
"Well, forget all that. We need to leave quickly.
The elders are waiting, and if we're late,
the Awakening Ceremony might end before we even reach the hall."
She turned toward the courtyard, her pink veil swaying behind her,
not giving Fang Lin even a moment to reply.
--------
A few hours later, the two finally arrived near the gates of the Azure Sword Hall.
The walk had been long, and neither of them spoke much on the way.
Fang Lin had only asked one simple question:
"Did you also participate in the Awakening Ceremony before?"
Ling'er had replied with an annoyed huff:
"Yes… but I failed. I don't have the ability to become a Sword Master."
After that, silence fell again.
They didn't speak because both were hiding their own secrets—
things they didn't want the other to sense,
thoughts too heavy to be shared casually.
Just as they stepped onto the final stone path leading to the hall,
a sudden shout echoed from behind:
"Fang Lin!"
The voice was frantic, stumbling, breathless.
Fang Lin turned, puzzled.
A boy was sprinting toward him at full speed.
He wore an orange robe, its edges stained with dirt and dust,
as if he had run through half the clan without stopping even once.
His short brown hair was messy,
and his face carried clear desperation.
Again, he shouted:
"Fang Lin, please stop!
My friend—please stop!"
Ling'er's brows lifted slightly in surprise.
Fang Lin frowned, unsure why someone would call him with such urgency.
The boy finally reached them, panting heavily,
trying to catch his breath before he could speak.
The boy finally caught his breath and spoke in a rush:
"Fang Lin, are you also going to the Awakening Ceremony?"
He bent forward, hands on his knees, still panting.
"I… I only found out a moment ago. The others told me the ceremony was starting today, so I dropped everything and ran straight here!"
He straightened up, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
"Well… why are you late?
Did no one inform you?"
Ling'er glanced sideways at Fang Lin, curious how he would answer.
Fang Lin maintained a calm expression, but inside, he stayed cautious—
any slip, any wrong word, and someone might sense the truth he was hiding.
As Fang Lin looked at the boy, his consciousness stirred.
The past Fang Lin's will suddenly asked, "Who is he? Is he also someone you knew?"
The will's voice sounded faint—sluggish and exhausted.
Fang Lin exhaled softly, as if recalling something long buried.
"Yes… he was one of my closest childhood friends. We used to play together every day. His name is Mu Chen."
He let out a long breath, as though escaping from a heavy weight.
After a moment, Fang Lin asked casually within his mind, "Why do you sound so tired?"
The will replied slowly, its tone weak and hazy,
"I'm not sure… but it feels like the conversation we had earlier drained me. For some reason, my will has become weaker."
Fang Lin, not wanting to spend too much time, quickly said aloud,
"Mu Chen… I'm late because something bad happened to me yesterday.
Haven't you heard about it?"
Mu Chen's brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face.
"What kind of incident? No one told me anything!"
From the side, Ling'er let out a quiet sigh, clearly wishing the conversation would end quickly.
"How would you ever know?" she said sharply.
"You live in your own little world day and night,
always working at the Mu yan tang—wherever you do your tasks.
Who would tell you anything?"
Fang Lin interpreted her words carefully, maintaining his calm.
"All right… we need to hurry. The elders have been waiting for a long time.
Ling'er can explain the details to you later."
Without another word, the three of them moved forward,
entering the Azure Sword Hall together.
************
Author's instructions
Mu Yan Tang: the Mu Family workshop where mu chen and his family worked in.