Chapter 78: Building a Snowman

Wuchang Mountain wasn’t particularly tall, yet for some unknown reason, its peak was perpetually covered in snow.

By the time dawn broke, the heavy snow, as soft as goose feathers, had ceased.

From the doorway, the mountain appeared desolate, an endless expanse of white.

The snow on the practice platform, however, had already been swept clean.

With a sharp “clang,” a young man, his hands red from the cold, fumbled the branch he was holding, dropping it to the ground.

The noise startled hundreds of birds resting in the mountain forest into flight.

Jiang Ziyou exclaimed, “This person looks exactly like me!”

Yin Buqi asked, “When did you start learning under Master Wen Shili?”

Jiang Ziyou replied instinctively, “Thirty years ago.”

Yin Ci muttered quietly, “From as far back as I can remember, Senior Brother has always looked the same. He must have reached the Golden Core stage long ago.”

Yin Buqi asked, “Are you certain?”

Jiang Ziyou nodded emphatically.

“I’m sure. I remember it clearly. I arrived at Rimuli the same year as the Sage Fuhua, though the Sage came a few months before me.”

Yin Buqi paused, seemingly lost in thought, his gaze stirring like a wind-blown mist.

Then he asked Jiang Ziyou, “Do you have family?”

Jiang Ziyou shook his head.

“I don’t know. The first person I saw when I woke up was Master. I have no memory of my past.”

Jiang Niannian turned to Yin Buqi, asking, “Did you think of something?”

“Not yet. Let’s keep observing.”

A gust of wind swirled down from above, and a figure appeared at the mountain gate. Clad in thin white robes, they exuded an icy solitude, seeming impervious to the cold.

His eyes, as deep as ancient wells, revealed not a trace of warmth.

At that time, Wen Shili was even more indifferent than he was now.

The young man, seeing him arrive, was overjoyed and ran toward him.

“Master! Master! You’re back!”

These two were none other than Wen Shili and his disciple.

Jiang Ziyou clung to his master’s robe, hiding the branch behind his back.

“Master, I’ve been diligently practicing swordsmanship every day. I haven’t slacked off.”

Wen Shili walked a few steps, noticing his robe was being tugged.

He glanced down at Jiang Ziyou’s frostbitten hands but said nothing.

Jiang Ziyou quickly withdrew his hands, looking at him with unease and anticipation.

Young hearts always yearned for praise from their elders.

But Wen Shili merely said indifferently, “Your talent is poor; cultivation isn’t suitable for you.”

“Oh…”

Jiang Ziyou lowered his head, visibly deflated.

After a moment, he cautiously looked up again.

“Master, I’m not as gifted or insightful as you, but I believe that hard work can make up for lack of talent. That’s why I strive to improve and never waste time. I love practicing swordsmanship. I want to become someone like you—someone who upholds justice and saves lives.”

Seeing Wen Shili remain silent, Jiang Ziyou continued, “Master, don’t worry. I won’t get hurt. I’ll take good care of myself.”

“Hmm.”

Wen Shili nodded slightly and walked toward the temple without saying more.

Despite this cold response, Jiang Ziyou wasn’t the least bit upset.

Smiling, he trailed after his master.

Master was aloof by nature.

So, Jiang Ziyou took the initiative—talking, helping, and waiting at the door every morning to greet him.

Every month, he would wait at the mountain gate for his master to return.

The coldest days passed, and as the weather warmed, birds occasionally sang again.

One morning, Jiang Ziyou woke early, carrying his book into the woods to study aloud.

“First, attain virtue and revere principles; disciples fill the hall, and yet the master’s expression does not soften. He stood by, respectfully questioning and seeking explanations, bowing and leaning close to ask, sometimes encountering their Chi… Chi… what?”

He scratched his head, staring intently at the word as though he could bore a hole into the page.

“I don’t know this one. I’ll ask Master later.”

Continuing, he read aloud: “Their demeanor grew more respectful, their etiquette more thorough, not daring to speak a single word in response, waiting for their joy, then asking again. Thus, although he was slow-witted, he eventually gained some understanding…”

When he finished, he mused, “So that’s how you should ask questions. No wonder Master ignores me—it must be my lack of proper etiquette.”

When Jiang Ziyou returned, Wen Shili was already up, sitting at a stone table in the courtyard, drinking tea.

He held the teacup, its white porcelain reflecting a soft glow in his fingertips.

His expression was as cold and detached as ever, his eyes calm as still water.

It seemed… he was watching the snow?

“Master, I’m back,” Jiang Ziyou said.

Wen Shili lowered his gaze without speaking.

Jiang Ziyou unfolded his dog-eared page of the book, placed it on the table, and pointed to the word he had skipped that morning.

“Master, I don’t know how to read this word.”

Before Wen Shili could respond, Jiang Ziyou abruptly knelt with a loud “thud” and knocked his head on the ground several times.

“Waaah! Master! Master, I can’t read this word!”

His expression was sorrowful, his voice heart-wrenching, though no tears fell.

The sound of his booming voice echoed through the forested mountains.

“Master, I can’t read this word!”

“I can’t read!”

“Can’t read—”

“Read—”

Wen Shili’s fingers holding the teacup paused slightly, spilling a few drops of tea onto the table.

“……”

His icy expression darkened further.

“What are you doing?”

Jiang Ziyou, still kneeling, looked up, his black eyes earnest.

“Asking for guidance.”

Wen Shili’s face remained impassive.

“This isn’t asking.”

Jiang Ziyou was genuinely curious.

“Then what is it?”

“Wailing at a funeral.”

Jiang Ziyou: “……” Something didn’t feel quite right.

Wen Shili picked up the book.

“Chìduō (reprimand). Remember it?”

His voice was calm and pleasant.

“Yes, I remember. Thank you, Master.”

Jiang Ziyou stood up.

“Master, I’ll go practice swordsmanship now.”

“Wait.”

“What is it, Master?”

“Take your book with you.”

“Okay.”

“In the future, just ask directly. No need to perform rituals.”

“…Got it, Master.”

Life in the mountains passed quickly, as though one turn was enough to bring another season rushing in.

But on the mountaintop, the snow always remained.

One day, Jiang Ziyou was squatting on the ground, fiddling with something, when Wen Shili’s voice sounded behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah!”

Jiang Ziyou jumped in fright and stood up.

“Master, I’m building a snowman.”

Wen Shili stood with his hands behind his back, looking down coldly at the snowman on the ground.

Two small, round snowmen, each the size of an apple.

The larger one had twig arms and a proud stance, shielding the smaller one behind it.

Jiang Ziyou’s wide eyes filled with nervousness, like a child caught misbehaving.

Wen Shili lowered his gaze, pointing to the larger snowman.

For once, he asked, “What is this?”

“Master, look. This big snowman is me, and the small one is you. My snowman is shielding you from the wind and snow.”

Jiang Ziyou scratched his head, smiling shyly.

“When I become successful in the future, I’ll help Master share the burden. Master protects the people; I’ll protect Master. That way, Master won’t have to work so hard.”

Wen Shili’s expression shifted subtly, a faint ripple seeming to stir in his eternally cold gaze.

He remained silent for a long time, his dark lashes lowered as he stared at the snowmen in a daze.

Finally, he said, “Alright.”

Jiang Ziyou froze on the spot.

Master smiled.

Master actually smiled!

In his lifetime, he never thought he’d see Master smile!

Realizing what he’d done, Wen Shili quickly suppressed his fleeting smile and extended a hand toward Jiang Ziyou.

“Come, let’s go back inside.”

“Alright, alright, coming, Master!”

Jiang Ziyou was so excited he could hardly speak coherently.

He wiped his snow-dampened, red hands on his clothes before placing them in his master’s.

The hand, like its owner, was cold, yet it inexplicably felt warm.

With his white robe trailing behind him, Wen Shili led Jiang Ziyou by the hand as they ascended the stone steps together…