Chapter Eight: Forced Advancement

Jidou claimed she had insomnia and began to share her knowledge about time travel with Qin Xiaomo, but soon drifted back into sleep. The quality of her rest was evident in the thunderous snores that filled Qin Xiaomo’s ears. Helpless, Qin Xiaomo tucked the blanket around her, closed her eyes, and eventually fell into a deep, aching sleep.

A bright light flashed before Qin Xiaomo’s eyes. She awoke abruptly as her veil was whisked away by Qian Mubai’s fingers. Had she returned again? Did simply falling asleep bring her back? Was the story continuing right where it left off?

“Ah... You don’t understand since I’m not wearing makeup!” Qin Xiaomo, suddenly aware, shielded her face and scolded him.

Qian Mubai’s eyes widened as he stared at her, his expression unreadable. He held his breath, seemingly deaf to her rebuke.

Qin Xiaomo unconsciously touched her face. Was something amiss? She waved her hand in front of Qian Mubai, and when he finally snapped out of it, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Honestly, I was afraid you’d suffocate!”

Qian Mubai suddenly spoke, “Forget about the performers. From tomorrow, you shall be my young master’s wife.”

Qin Xiaomo was bewildered, watching as Qian Mubai instantly composed himself and strode out. She chased after him, calling, “So, you saw my radiant beauty and decided the performers couldn’t hide my brilliance anymore? Young master’s wife, huh? Seems like all that separates a performer and the wife of the young master is a single veil. Qian Mubai, let me tell you... I refuse!”

Qian Mubai stopped in his tracks. “You have no choice. Go back to your room and sleep!”

“You’re controlling me now?”

“Do you still want the three hundred taels? If so, do as you’re told!” Qian Mubai’s demeanor shifted abruptly, leaving Qin Xiaomo completely confused. She decided not to argue and returned to her room.

Morning arrived.

The crisp chirping of birds and the scent of sandalwood and orange blossoms drifted through the air. “Who opened the curtains?” Qin Xiaomo wondered. She inhaled deeply—yes, there was the aroma of sandalwood and orange blossoms, and a hint of ginseng soup. She opened her eyes to find a handsome face close by, one hand on her forehead, the other holding a bowl of soup, startling her.

“Qian Mubai!” Qin Xiaomo’s eyes widened as she steadied herself.

“Drink it while it’s hot,” Qian Mubai said, placing the ginseng soup by her bedside as he prepared to leave.

“What... happened to me?” Qin Xiaomo glanced at the medicine.

“You were talking nonsense all night—something about Jidou, games, and so on. Probably frightened during the day. This is a calming ginseng soup,” Qian Mubai replied coolly.

“Hm?” Hearing the name Jidou, Qin Xiaomo realized she had spoken about her real world. As Qian Mubai was about to leave, she quickly called out, “Thank you for the soup.”

Qian Mubai paused but said nothing, leaving only his silhouette behind.

Not long after, a young maid in pale green entered, dimples flashing as she smiled. “Young mistress, I am Liulü, here to help you dress.” She moved to lift the blanket.

“Wait, what did you call me?” Qin Xiaomo quickly clutched the blanket.

“Young mistress! From now on, Liulü will serve you.”

Qin Xiaomo thought it felt as jarring as hearing a five-year-old neighbor call her ‘auntie’ in an elevator.

“Last night, the young master heard you talking nonsense and, worried, sent all the guards out to find a divine doctor for you. We could all tell—the young master truly likes you,” Liulü said, full of envy as she leaned closer.

Qin Xiaomo suddenly remembered her little white dumpling. “Liulü, where’s my white dumpling?”

“You mean the chubby, short-legged rabbit with whom you have a contract? It’s happily eating and drinking in Jiang Wei’s room. No need to worry.”

Qin Xiaomo was amused and exasperated. Other people’s spirit beasts were mighty and fierce; hers was a stubby-legged ball of fluff.

“Young mistress, you can’t stay in bed any longer. Just now, auspicious news arrived from the young master’s attendant. The young master plans to take you out of the city soon, so you must hurry and freshen up.” Liulü’s mouth kept pace with her hands, deftly preparing Qin Xiaomo.

“Where are we going?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Can you call me something else? ‘Young mistress’ makes my skin crawl,” Qin Xiaomo shivered.

“What should I call you?” Liulü tilted her head.

“‘Miss Qin’ or ‘Xiaomo’ would do.”

Liulü was silent for a moment, then said, “Young mistress, you’ll get used to it. Just listen—you’ll get accustomed.” She was certainly candid.

The sound of lively hooves echoed along the winding path. Qin Xiaomo sat in the carriage, a lyric looping through her mind: “Horse, slow down, slow down...” She was getting motion sick again.

Qian Mubai sat beside her, apparently resting with his eyes closed. Despite the carriage swaying vigorously, he remained calm, clearly someone skilled. Jiang Wei drove, and the three sped along, destination unknown.

Qin Xiaomo hesitantly asked, “Um... where are we going?”

Qian Mubai slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. “To train you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have no spiritual power. How will you find the spirit stones to repair the Fengtian Wheel?”

“I want to leave! Stop the carriage.” Hearing about repairing the Fengtian Wheel, Qin Xiaomo felt doomed—four divine beasts weren’t child’s play like Hello Kitty!

“Alright!” Qian Mubai agreed readily.

Qin Xiaomo’s heart raced. Though she didn’t know him well, he wasn’t someone easy to reason with. She nervously asked, “What happens if I don’t cultivate spiritual power?”

“That, I don’t know. But a prophet appeared in Mirror Void City, and now the three counties are abuzz. Some rumors say, ‘You possess the power to comprehend heaven and earth; if fed to a spirit beast, it’ll instantly ascend to a heavenly divine beast.’ Others say, ‘He who gains the prophet gains the world.’ Coincidentally, the Fengtian Wheel is damaged, and now the major factions, including the Nether Palace, are all after you. Tell me, without any spiritual power, how long do you think you’d survive if you left me?” Qian Mubai’s words were calm but struck at the heart.

“I... I’m not afraid!” Qin Xiaomo insisted, though she shivered, her bravado only in words.

Qian Mubai lowered his head and smiled faintly.

“Young master, young mistress, we’ve arrived,” Jiang Wei announced, pulling the reins as the carriage slowly came to a halt.

The curtain lifted, revealing a sea of green—a dense bamboo forest with a clear stream running through it. Not far away, a bamboo bridge spanned the creek. Qin Xiaomo got out, looked up, and saw a century-old peach tree, its branches heavy with pink blossoms, petals drifting romantically. Beside the tree stood a bamboo pavilion with a floating bridge, perfect for wine and flower viewing. She took a deep breath, the air thick with sweet peach nectar.

Qin Xiaomo was very pleased with Qian Mubai’s choice; the scenery was familiar, though she couldn’t recall where she’d seen it before. Even her carsickness vanished, and she eagerly prepared to rest in the bamboo pavilion. Just as she stepped forward, her collar was tugged back.

“That’s not where you should be,” Qian Mubai said, casually picking a peach blossom and tucking it into Qin Xiaomo’s hand, then turned and strode into the pavilion.

A little pollen was enough to fill the air with fragrance. “What do you mean? Isn’t this training? Why come here?” Qin Xiaomo held the flower, unsure what to do.

“You’ll know soon enough.” At some point, Qian Mubai had brought tea utensils and was brewing tea in the pavilion.

Qin Xiaomo opened her mouth to speak, but a distant buzzing grew louder, shattering the tranquility like an army on the march.

Suddenly, Qin Xiaomo realized—the scene was straight from a game she’d designed! And those approaching were the fifty wasps she had stubbornly refused to change.