Chapter 11: Calculations

Lin Moyu—humble in childhood, arrogant in youth, and now utterly mad.

Lin Mozhi set down the ledger in his hands, closing his eyes as a faint sting pricked at them.

He frowned slightly, massaging the corners of his eyes.

“Though she is exceptionally gifted, she remains haunted by her past. To develop inner demons before even forming her Golden Core—it’s clear her path of cultivation won’t take her far.”

Xu Chang tidied the ledgers and extinguished the few remaining candles in the room before asking, “What does the Young Master intend to do?”

The room plunged into darkness, yet Lin Mozhi could see even more clearly now.

His pale golden eyes settled on a rosewood jewelry box before him, inside which lay a golden hairpin adorned with a phoenix and peonies—exquisite, opulent, and undoubtedly worth a fortune.

He closed the lid and handed the box to Xu Chang, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“We ought to help her.”

Since she looks down on cripples, let her taste what it’s like to be one.

Xu Chang lowered his gaze and accepted the box, as taciturn as ever.

“Understood.”

—

The Lotus Lantern Festival was approaching.

That day, after Xu Chang forced Lin Moyu to retreat, Lady Lin—perhaps having received word—returned ahead of Lin Shuiyu.

She silenced those who knew of the incident with stern warnings, suppressing the matter entirely.

With preparations for the festival underway, and the imminent return of the Third and Fourth Young Misses and the Second Young Master—all of whom had been studying abroad—the entire Lin estate was bustling with activity.

The Songhe Courtyard, already inconspicuous, faded further from attention.

Lin Moyu lifted her arm, allowing her maid to adjust her sleeve.

“Mother, the Lotus Lantern Festival was never this extravagant in previous years. Is someone important coming this time?”

Lady Lin’s delight was unmistakable, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Have you heard of the Bai Clan of Shaodu?”

“That foremost cultivation family?” Lin Moyu curled her lip.

“What, do you and Father intend to arrange a marriage alliance with them?”

“That is the Bai Clan of Shaodu,” Lady Lin chided, though her exasperation softened as she took in the red-clad beauty reflected in the mirror.

“You—always aiming too high. Compared to the Bai Clan, our family is nothing more than dirt beneath their feet. If even the Bai Clan isn’t good enough for you, who could possibly meet your standards?”

Lin Moyu traced her temple, her eyes glinting with ambition as she parted her crimson lips.

“Mother, with my talent and beauty, once I enter the Xuanxiao Sect, even forming a bond with the Sword Venerable wouldn’t be out of reach.”

“Silly girl,” Lady Lin dismissed the servants with a wave before taking Lin Moyu’s hands in hers, her voice tender yet instructive.

“If we can secure the Bai Clan’s favor now, why worry about resources and elixirs? Once you enter the Xuanxiao Sect, you can always trade up if something better comes along.”

Lin Moyu arched a brow.

“Mother, you were talented and beautiful in your youth too. Why did you marry Father?”

The bluntness of the question gave Lady Lin pause before a deep-seated resentment surfaced.

“If that bitch Jiang Yueming hadn’t ruined my spiritual roots, I wouldn’t have wasted my life in this backwater town of Feixue.”

Her expression then melted into tender concern as she cupped Lin Moyu’s face.

“My precious Yu’er, don’t repeat my mistakes.”

“Who is Jiang Yueming?” Lin Moyu pressed, gripping her mother’s hand.

Lady Lin’s lips curled in a sneer, venom flashing in her eyes.

“Who else could it be but that little blind boy’s birth mother?”

Lin Moyu didn’t press further, though the seed of an idea took root.

She still hadn’t settled the score for her humiliating retreat from Songhe Courtyard.

“Why bring up such trash?”

Lady Lin’s smile returned as she picked up the phoenix-and-peony hairpin from the jewelry box and carefully secured it in Lin Moyu’s hair.

“Peonies for a peerless beauty—fit to topple cities and kingdoms.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, their smiles eerily alike.

“This hairpin was specially commissioned from a grandmaster. It’s been through many hands before reaching us. It gathers spiritual energy—perfect for the Foundation Establishment stage. And it’s your favorite design, the phoenix and peony. Do you like it?”

Lin Moyu reached up, delightedly adjusting the pin.

“Thank you, Mother.”

—

Lotus Lantern Festival

As dusk fell, the city blazed with lanterns like scattered stars.

Carriages adorned with jewels and silken robes fluttered like butterflies along the banks of the Zhuoyue River, already crowded with people.

Painted boats and pleasure barges drifted past, their sounds mingling—the sharp clack of a storyteller’s gavel, the strumming of a pipa, the shouts of street vendors, and the laughter of revelers—into a symphony of festivity.

For the past two months, Shen Jixue had been confined to Songhe Courtyard to recuperate, her days alternating between being stuffed with food by Lu Yi and studying calligraphy under Lin Mozhi’s guidance.

She was bored out of her mind, though she played the part of contentment well.

Finally, the Lotus Lantern Festival arrived—a welcome reprieve.

According to Lu Yi, the Lin family’s Third and Fourth Young Misses and Second Young Master had returned just in time for the festivities.

Tonight, the family would reunite, and with distinguished guests in attendance, a banquet had been reserved at the Yujing Pavilion.

They had left early to receive their visitors.

As for Lin Mozhi? He had never been included in their so-called “family.”

“Will the Young Master be alright alone?” Lu Yi fretted, glancing at Xu Chang beside her.

Xu Chang sighed.

“He’ll be fine. That place might as well be the safest spot in Feixue City.”

“True,” Lu Yi conceded.

“After decades of groundwork, it’s not like someone could just waltz in and take over.”

Xu Chang eyed Shen Jixue, who was weaving through the crowd with an armful of snacks, and lowered his voice.

“The Young Master said he’d meet us at the crooked willow by Qinghong Bridge during the lantern release.”

Lu Yi nodded.

“It’s almost time. Let’s head over.”

Just then, Shen Jixue squeezed her way back to them.

“Sister Lu Yi, Brother Xu Chang, want some?”

Lu Yi chuckled, looping her arm through Shen Jixue’s and tilting her head.

“Have you grown taller again?”

“Dunno.”

Shen Jixue tugged at her sleeves, which fit perfectly.

“My clothes still fit, so probably not.”

“I specifically asked for them to be made a little larger,” Lu Yi said, amused.

She pulled Xu Chang—who was scanning their surroundings—over and teased, “Our Ah Xue is like a rice sprout after a drought—just keep watering and fertilizing, and she’ll shoot up overnight.”

Xu Chang glanced at Lu Yi, who barely reached his earlobe, then at Shen Jixue, who came up to his jaw.

“Ah Xue might outgrow you.”

Shen Jixue caught his meaning and laughed, carefree.

“Then Sister Lu Yi will be the shortest in our courtyard!”

“Bold of you to mock me!”

Lu Yi made a show of pinching Shen Jixue’s ear.

Amid their playful tussle, Shen Jixue skipped backward—only to collide with someone who had been walking in the opposite direction.

Thud!

Stars exploded behind her eyes.

“Is your head made of iron?!”

A boy around her age yelped, clutching his forehead and lashing out first.

“Watch where you’re going! You think the street belongs to you?!”

Two older youths flanked him—one doubled over in laughter, the other scholarly-looking and quick to mediate.

“Fufu, stop laughing.”

He turned to Shen Jixue with a polite bow.

“Miss, I’m Bai Yunshen. On behalf of my younger brother, Bai Chaoying, I apologize. Please don’t take it to heart.”

Before Shen Jixue could respond, Bai Chaoying bristled.

“Brother! She ran into me! Why are you apologizing?!”

Lu Yi’s sharp eyes noted the trio’s plain but exquisitely crafted attire.

She pulled Shen Jixue behind her as Xu Chang stepped forward with a bow.

“My sister was at fault. We apologize and hope the young masters won’t take offense.”

Shen Jixue peeked out from behind Xu Chang.

“I’m sorry. It was my mistake. Don’t be angry, okay?”

Her clear, dark eyes shimmered under the lantern light like stars reflected in water—striking enough to steal one’s breath.

Bai Chaoying froze, staring dumbly at her.

“You dropped this.”

Shen Jixue held out a token carved with cloud patterns.

When he remained motionless, she blinked. “What’s wrong?”

Snapping out of his daze, Bai Chaoying’s face burned crimson.

“W-what’s it to you?!”

His attempt at bravado fell flat, his cheeks red as rouge.

Meng Fu couldn’t hold back another round of laughter.

“You haven’t even spoken properly to the girl, and you’re already blushing? Yunshen, I never knew your brother was such a pure soul.”

“Enough,” Bai Yunshen sighed.

Shen Jixue, oblivious, shoved the token into Bai Chaoying’s hand.

“Why are you embarrassed? Dropping things isn’t shameful.”

The boy’s face burned hotter.

He glared at her, then—for reasons no one understood—stomped off in a huff.

With both sides being reasonable, the matter dissolved quickly.

Meng Fu stifled his laughter, and Bai Yunshen, concerned for his brother, excused them with haste.

Left alone, the trio exchanged glances—then burst into laughter.

“Come on,” Lu Yi said, tugging Shen Jixue toward Qinghong Bridge.

“It’s almost time for the lantern release. The Young Master is waiting by the crooked willow.”

“The Young Master is coming too?”

Shen Jixue immediately quickened her pace.

“Let’s hurry, then.”

As she turned, her gaze flicked—almost imperceptibly—toward the brilliantly lit Yujing Pavilion in the distance, where banquets and guests abounded.

The corner of her lips curled into a faint, inscrutable smile.

—

Yujing Pavilion

The reason Yujing Pavilion reigned as Feixue City’s grandest restaurant lay in its Feixian Tower—a structure built around a central pillar, its lanterns glowing like a celestial palace suspended in the night sky.

At the highest level, Lin Moyu’s expression darkened as she stared fixedly at the distant streets, her vermilion nails scraping against the crimson rail.

Beside her, a girl who shared some of her features followed her gaze but saw only ordinary passersby.

“Second Sister, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just saw an acquaintance.”

Lin Moyu’s brow furrowed.

“Second Sister?”

“Elder Sister,” Lin Momei corrected with an ingratiating smile.

“We’re in public—we must be mindful.”

Lin Moyu scoffed but let it slide.

After all, appearances mattered.

She turned back toward the tower’s interior.

They should have had an elder sister—the daughter of the original madame, who had gone mad herself.

Though the girl had died young, she still held the title of “First Young Miss.”

Lin Moyu demanded nothing but the best.

She resented even a dead girl overshadowing her as the “eldest.”

In public, she tolerated it, but in private, she had made it clear to Lin Momei: Never call me “Second Sister.”

Lin Momei’s smile faded as she studied Lin Moyu’s retreating figure.

“Acquaintance,” huh? How interesting.

Her proud, incomparably arrogant sister—who looked down on even her own siblings—had no friends, only lackeys.

Who could it be?

Her gaze swept the streets but found no one remarkable—until Lin Molan approached, her voice soft.

“Third Sister, Father wants us inside. The guests have arrived.”

“I know,” Lin Momei dismissed her with a wave.

“Go ahead. I’ll follow.”

Lin Molan hesitated, twisting her handkerchief, before finally retreating.

Pathetic.

Lin Momei sneered inwardly.

The spawn of a concubine will never amount to anything.

This was all for Lin Moyu’s marriage prospects anyway.

Whether she attended or not made no difference.