Chapter 4: No Throwing Objects from Heights

“No need to shout when using the toilet.”

Gan Xun led her into the bathroom and taught her how to use the toilet. “The paper is here. When you’re done, press this button, and water will come out to rinse you clean.”

“…May I ask if you’re listening?”

Zhao Chiyun stood nearby, admiring herself in the mirror with great interest.

She looked at her left cheek, then her right, then straight on.

“This mirror is top quality. I saw an even larger one in the living room. It could be exchanged for a hundred mu of good farmland.”

Her fingertip lightly touched the mirror surface. She had never seen herself so clearly before—not even the shadows cast by her eyelashes beneath her eyes escaped notice.

“Radiant with every glance,” she said.

Gan Xun was also looking at the person in the mirror. She still couldn’t get used to it and ended up laughing from the impact of her beauty.

“It seems you’re not someone who’s unaware of your own beauty.”

Zhao Chiyun looked back at her from the mirror, experiencing this kind of eye contact for the first time, and said puzzledly, “I’m not blind.”

“From what you mean, in your dynasty, this County Princess is considered outstanding in appearance.”

Zhao Chiyun suddenly turned around, her hair tip brushing across the back of Gan Xun’s hand.

Gan Xun resisted the urge to touch that patch of skin, afraid to dispel the unusual sensation, and said honestly to her, “Yes, you’re very beautiful.”

Those simple three words struck right at Zhao Chiyun’s heart. She smiled.

Gan Xun continued the lesson. “Remember to wash your hands. The faucet is here.”

Water poured down, and Zhao Chiyun stepped aside a bit.

“Though our Mirror Dynasty has devices to draw water, where does the water in your home come from? There’s no water jar here, and I didn’t see a water source outside the window.”

Gan Xun smiled smugly. “Immortal arts, of course.”

Zhao Chiyun naturally didn’t believe it. This was probably “technology” too, with some underlying principle.

But she still showed just the right amount of awe that Gan Xun liked to see.

“Understood.”

Hearing the flush, Gan Xun grabbed some clothes and brought them over.

Zhao Chiyun placed her hands under the water that appeared out of nowhere. The cold water was exceptionally clear.

She looked up into the mirror. Her complexion was more haggard than usual; she needed a good rest. Then she saw Gan Xun standing behind her with the clothes, playing on her phone while waiting.

“Why is the toilet so noisy?”

“It takes power to suck away the dirty water, so of course it’s loud. It’s only a few seconds. Alright, I’m going to shower now. You go rest.”

As Gan Xun spoke, she didn’t idle. She set down the clean clothes, took a dry hand towel to wipe Zhao Chiyun’s hands, then hung it back up.

Gan Xun wasn’t deferential to her like a maid, but though her actions seemed casual, they were actually thoughtful in their roughness.

It reminded her of Big Sister before her marriage, who had taken care of her in just this offhand way.

“I want to bathe too.”

Gan Xun’s eyes widened. She thought to herself, shouldn’t you leave after eating? You even want to shower? She really doesn’t treat herself like an outsider.

Zhao Chiyun saw her obvious reluctance. The light in her eyes dimmed, and she pursed her lips to restrain her emotions.

She wasn’t Big Sister after all.

Just a stranger on the road.

Treating her like everyone else!

The soft-hearted Gan Xun relented. “Alright, wait until I’m done.”

She had her limits. “I won’t help you. You’ll have to do it yourself.”

Zhao Chiyun was quite gratified to get permission, but she saw Gan Xun avoiding her like the plague, as if serving her was some grievance.

She snorted coldly and said arrogantly, “Got it. It’s your ‘everyone is equal.'”

Gan Xun was stunned.

Zhao Chiyun’s figure was graceful, like a snow plum standing on a branch—every movement like someone straight out of a period drama.

And one where the etiquette coach had passed with flying colors.

When she said “everyone is equal” in that archaic tone, Gan Xun felt the impact.

She couldn’t help laughing. When asked what she was laughing at, Gan Xun said, “I’m laughing at how quick on the uptake you are.”

Zhao Chiyun wore a look that said, as if you needed to tell me.

Before showering, Gan Xun remembered something and poked her head out from the bathroom. “In a bit, I’ll run the hot water. There’ll be noise from the kitchen—it’s the sound of gas heating. Don’t be scared.”

Zhao Chiyun was flipping through a book on the sofa, not even glancing at her. “Got it. Go on down.”

Go down where?

Gan Xun shut the door indignantly.

Zhao Chiyun pulled her gaze from the book. The printed pages were crisp and clear, and in her ears was the gas heating sound Gan Xun had mentioned.

This thing called a sofa was more comfortable than the luxurious soft couch in the Prince’s Mansion. The glass lamp shone brightly, banishing the long night, like the legendary pearl of the Eastern Sea.

Everything in heaven and earth told her that this was no place for Zhao Chiyun to set foot.

She hoped this was a yellow millet dream—from which she would awaken deep in sleep, still on her couch in the Prince’s Mansion.

Everything she saw and heard here would become amusing anecdotes at the flower-viewing banquet.

For now, she could only slowly find a way out of the dream.

She walked to the balcony Gan Xun had mentioned and looked out. Lights flickered brilliantly, illuminating above and below.

The high buildings were bitterly cold, heart-stopping and terrifying.

She lacked the courage to jump. She didn’t dare bet that jumping would wake her from the dream.

She returned to the sofa and continued reading.

With an unexpected guest at home, Gan Xun showered and washed her hair twice as fast as usual. She came out of the bathroom toweling her hair.

She had grabbed a fashion magazine earlier to distract Zhao Chiyun, who was reading it with great interest.

“You can read simplified characters?”

“A little. Fortunately, the pictures and text are clear. Are all books here like this?”

“The more expensive ones are even clearer. This is the most ordinary kind.”

Zhao Chiyun looked toward the table piled with books, a longing stirring in her heart. Gan Xun pretended not to notice.

“Go shower now.”

“But will there be hot water if I go? Do I need to learn your immortal arts again?”

Gan Xun was honest. “You just need to learn the operation. Turn it on, and it’s there—like the endless water in the toilet. The hot water for showering is inexhaustible too.”

Zhao Chiyun sighed with the poise of one in power. “Truly a life of peace and plenty. Not a paradise, but better than one.”

Gan Xun made no comment.

The pace and pressure of modern life could be hell for some, forcing people to live in tailored cages and predicaments.

Who would feel happy just for having air-conditioned underwear, toilets, mirrors, and hot water for showers?

But Zhao Chiyun’s words seemed to remind her that, objectively speaking, modern people—or rather, she herself—didn’t have it bad.

After food and shelter were secured, perhaps people fell into the sea of greed, filled with resentment and anxiety.

“Compared to ancient times, it’s much more comfortable. But once life gets convenient, people’s desires grow, and so does the pressure. All these ‘immortal arts’ cost money. Without money, you can’t enjoy them. Seeing others have what you don’t—it’s painful.”

“‘Everyone is equal,’ yet secretly divided into classes by money.”

Gan Xun told her this while drying her hair.

Her damp hair was gradually dried bit by bit with the towel. She didn’t like using a hairdryer.

A fresh fragrance wafted from her wet hair in waves. Her towel was exceptionally absorbent—Zhao Chiyun could tell.

Gan Xun spoke without pretending profundity or fawning.

Her words were clear, though her lips gave them a lazy slur, making them sound warm and intimate.

As if she were a close confidante, and they were having a late-night heart-to-heart.

“That’s just how it is. All things have their fates from birth. Even immortals are divided into ranks. How can a high immortal compare to a mountain god?”

As Zhao Chiyun spoke, she openly studied Gan Xun.

Just when Gan Xun thought Zhao Chiyun would continue the topic—pointing out that she belonged to the worse-off category—Zhao Chiyun suddenly poked her nose bridge.

She asked seriously, “Gan Xun, are you from an ethnic minority?”

Her initial praise of Gan Xun’s striking looks hadn’t been flattery.

Gan Xun was tall and slender, not the gauntness of starvation.

Like a spirited wild orchid by a mountain stream, or a bowl of refreshing iced cheese pudding.

Oh, she was really hungry.

Her brows were like clear bamboo, her eyes like deep pools. Her face wasn’t as flat as a Central Plains person’s.

Most obviously, her pupils were a light color—not noticeable unless you looked closely under the light, revealing a grayish tint.

Yet this didn’t make her features aggressive; they were quite pleasing.

Gan Xun’s eyelids and heart jumped from the cool fingertip poke. She covered her instinctive tension with teasing. “You ancient people even know about this?”

Zhao Chiyun was instantly displeased. “Do you really think this County Princess hasn’t seen the world? Our Great Mirror has traded with foreign tribes for years. Your surname and looks aren’t Han Chinese at all.”

Gan Xun felt dazed under her stare. Zhao Chiyun’s gaze held a clarity unpolluted by industrialization and electronics.

Like stream water, rushing wherever it looked.

Icy cool, making one shiver.

“Wrong guess. I’m a native Han Chinese.”

“Just mixed blood, that’s all. They say my grandmother I never met was Northern European—something like Finland. Finland is a distant country far from here; I’ve never been.”

“Not sure, though. My dad said my birth mom was a liar full of lies back then. Who knows the truth.”

She laughed as she said it, as if her background was trivial, just chit-chat.

Only she laughed; Zhao Chiyun fell silent.

Such origins would be lowly in the Mirror Country—not even qualified for the lowest servant role in the Prince’s Mansion.

Fortunately, Gan Xun had met her. The Qinghe County Princess never judged character by birth alone and certainly wouldn’t feel contempt for it.

Gan Xun had no idea she was being pitied. She focused on disinfecting the wound, sprayed some medicine, and bent down to blow on it a few times from the sting.

Zhao Chiyun asked, “Really no need for a doctor?”

She understood now. With Gan Xun’s background, she probably couldn’t afford a doctor.

“It’s a small injury. No need.”

Gan Xun finished, checked her phone. “Dinner will arrive in ten minutes. Hurry and shower. What about your hair—wash it or not?”

“Of course I will.”

Gan Xun’s vision went black. “That’ll be troublesome. Can you manage?”

“No idea. I’ve never washed it myself.”

“…”

Gan Xun caught the hint and kicked the ball back. “How about skipping it? Later I’ll take you downstairs to a hair salon to wash it. A hair salon is a place that specializes in washing and cutting hair—more convenient than at home. Otherwise, with that much hair, drying it alone would take half a day.”

Zhao Chiyun agreed reluctantly. “Fine, I’ll follow your lead.”

Gan Xun was ordered to help her put her hair up. She tried to be gentle, but still got criticized for her clumsy hands.

Just like her previous boss—hard to please.

The shampoo ancient people used was pure natural. A faint herbal fragrance lingered in Zhao Chiyun’s hair, gently filling Gan Xun’s senses.

Such close social distance was rare in Gan Xun’s life. She could feel her heartbeat faster than usual.

Gan Xun wasn’t used to serving others. Putting up her hair was slow and clumsy, even pulling painfully.

The County Princess endured the pain and grumbled with a sour face, “If this were my mansion, you’d get no dinner for work like that.”

It was like grooming a stray cat—the cat wasn’t cooperative either. Clearly receiving favor, yet acting superior.

She laid down the law. “Sorry, this is my mansion. If you keep nitpicking, you’ll be the one skipping dinner tonight.”

Zhao Chiyun shut up.

Gan Xun was satisfied. This girl might lack other virtues, but she was very adaptable. Even if she couldn’t go back, she’d survive.

After putting up her hair, Gan Xun put a shower cap on her.

She fetched another set of long-sleeved shirt and loose, lightweight pants—meeting her coverage needs without risking heatstroke.

Zhao Chiyun looked at the new clothes and recalled what she’d seen in the book earlier.

Gan Xun hadn’t lied. Here, men and women alike bared their chests or exposed their breasts—not hiding privates, just pursuing beauty and “fashion.”

Gan Xun’s clothes were already quite conservative compared to the book.

“Do you know how to shower?” Gan Xun asked casually.

“No.” Zhao Chiyun admitted frankly.

“?”

“Since birth, I’ve never had to bathe myself.”

“Want to say that louder?”

An adult who couldn’t shower—Gan Xun’s vision went black again. “Behind vermilion gates, meat goes to waste” came alive.

She had to teach from scratch. “Left side hot water, right side cold. Adjust to a comfortable temperature yourself. First, rinse from head to toe—especially the private areas…”

“Where?” Zhao Chiyun asked.

Gan Xun was stumped, her tongue tying up.

Her mind flashed back unbidden to the spring view she’d glimpsed recently—blossoms bursting everywhere. The tiny bathroom felt stifling; she could hardly breathe.

She took a deep breath. “If that’s your first question in learning to shower, I need to reassess your intelligence.”

Zhao Chiyun said coolly, “You know what it is, so why waste words?”

County Princess Zhao had a talent: she didn’t snap sharply or raise her voice to make you itch with hate.

She said it lightly, tone normal—you might not even realize you’d been dissed at first.

But Gan Xun caught it. “Not teaching anymore. Just splash some water and wipe yourself.”

Strike.

“Stingy. I was just joking with you.”

Zhao Chiyun reached out to stop her and smiled at her.

Heh, for that pretty playful face, Gan Xun magnanimously overlooked it and taught the rest of the process, introducing each bottle and jar one by one.

Before this, she’d never imagined teaching an adult to shower someday.

“I’m going out. Be careful underfoot—don’t slip. If you don’t know something, call me. I’ll guide you from outside the door.”

Zhao Chiyun examined the bath products on her own. “Thank you.”

After Gan Xun left, she suspected whether she had remembered the steps. Anyway, she worried incessantly, truly experiencing the feeling of painless motherhood.

Sure enough, not even two minutes later, County Princess Zhao called out: “Gan Xun.”

Gan Xun was in the room changing the bedding set and hurried over upon hearing her: “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

There was silence from inside for a second, followed by a laugh: “Nothing. I just wanted to call out and see if you’d show up like you said you would.”

The laughter was light, so light like a single willow catkin. Without any warning, it brushed past her temple, leaving behind a transparent itch.

Gan Xun nearly felt dizzy. She raised her hand but failed to catch the nonexistent catkin, so she rubbed her brow bone instead.

Snapping back to her senses, she really wanted to bundle the woman up and toss her off the balcony.

Forget it. No high-altitude littering.