Chapter 32 Part 2

A tea set sat on the pavilion table, green leaves floating in the cups. The Female Immortal poured them each a cup, invited them to taste, then sat alone opposite, sipping her tea.

Mu Qian Tan lifted her cup, a fresh fragrance curling around her nose. A light sip revealed a milky note in the tea—an odd pairing that somehow worked, tasty and delightful.

She was about to praise it when she noticed the Female Immortal’s gaze fixed on the table, showing no sign of wanting to talk.

She had thought they came here for some matter or small talk, but was it really just for tea?

After tasting her tea and receiving no words, Mu Qian Tan set her cup down. The Female Immortal continued sipping, her subtle expressions revealing her thoughts on the flavor—sometimes a slight frown, other times a light curve of the lips—serious and exacting.

It really seemed to be just that.

Her cheeks heating up again, Shang Shan sat on the ground with her legs splayed.

She rarely got sick after growing this old, so this unfamiliar bodily reaction irritated her. She pulled out the Red Satin, tied up her long hair in a bunch, groped for a teacup on the table, and downed it in one gulp.

“Hot!”

She yelped, then grabbed the teapot, refilled the cup, and downed it again.

“Hot!”

Mu Qian Tan: “…”

They sat in this awkward atmosphere for a while. Feeling it was about time to take her leave, Mu Qian Tan hadn’t yet found the right words when the Female Immortal suddenly stood. “Time’s up. Time to admire the flowers.”

Mu Qian Tan found it odd. Wasn’t flower-viewing something done on a whim? Why set a time for it? And this was her own garden—no restrictions, she could admire whenever she pleased.

The Female Immortal probably hadn’t overthought it. She said admire, and admire she did. Hands behind her back in the pavilion, she gazed remotely at the gorgeous flowerbeds, turning direction every so often, as if determined to give even attention to every bloom.

Mu Qian Tan: “Uh…”

Women were generally kind-hearted, and someone unconcerned by flower juice staining her white sleeves must love flowers to the point of obsession. That made sense.

But as she turned, the Female Immortal came full circle, facing the small table and tea set, her back to the flower sea.

What was there left to admire?

Yet her expression was earnest, no pretense. Unable to hold back, Mu Qian Tan asked, and the Female Immortal replied, “Actually, my intent is to let the flowers admire me. That way, they’ll grow even better.”

“…I see. Thank you for the lesson.”

Agreeing verbally, Mu Qian Tan wondered inwardly: ‘What kind of immortal is this? The Mad Immortal?’

Li Biyuan muttered mysteriously: ‘Not sure, but I discovered something.’

Mu Qian Tan asked: ‘What?’

‘Microwave instant noodles for a minute or so. Add a corn crunch sausage—perfect.’

A bunch of incomprehensible weirdos. Mu Qian Tan was speechless.

By the time Shang Shan drained the entire teapot and her face was red as a monkey’s butt, darkness had fallen at the horizon. Mu Qian Tan felt they shouldn’t linger and prepared to bid farewell, but just as she opened her mouth, the Female Immortal struck again: “Dinnertime. I’ll go prepare it. Wait in the dining hall.”

She spoke not as if negotiating, but commanding. Yet her tone was gentle and unhurried, not unpleasant to the ear, and somewhat hard to refuse.

“…Alright.”

Mu Qian Tan endured and endured, but still agreed.

Li Biyuan seized the chance. “You’ve done this many times. I find you particularly prone to bullying the weak and fearing the strong.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Is that so?”

Li Biyuan continued, “If it were the Cat Dragon doing these things, you would’ve flipped her already.”

From Li Biyuan’s current understanding of her, it was easy to deduce that for such bizarre individuals, she either kept her distance respectfully or beat them soundly. At the very least, she would curse a few times to vent. Yet now she didn’t retort even a single word. She was probably considering that the Female Immortal was connected to Panxiang Yin and might be someone she couldn’t afford to provoke, hence her compliance.

Mu Qian Tan dragged Shang Shan along and followed the Female Immortal to the dining hall. “That’s true.”

Li Biyuan said, “So, don’t you plan to change that personality of yours? Looking down on everyone equally might pass as having character, but only bullying those weaker than you? That’s just vile.”

Mu Qian Tan released her, pulled out a chair, and sat down steadily. “Then don’t be weaker than me.”

Shang Shan looked left and right. The room’s furnishings were extremely simple, identical to Panxiang Yin’s dwelling—only the barest essentials of furniture and a few scattered decorations. Nothing else. It felt quite spacious.

She stood there a moment, then sat beside Mu Qian Tan, set the last corn cob on the table, and lay down to sleep.

Li Biyuan asked curiously, “Tsk, I really don’t get people like you. Why do you hate the Female Protagonist so much? Jealousy?”

Mu Qian Tan’s fingertip tapped the tabletop lightly. “Do you care whether I hate her or not? Or do you actually like her quite a bit?”

“Ah, I like every character. Female Protagonist, Male Protagonist, side characters—all of them.” Li Biyuan slurped some noodles. “I think it’d be perfect if everyone got along harmoniously. As a reader, I’d be thrilled.”

“Why should I make you happy? What if I just follow my heart’s desires?” Mu Qian Tan turned slightly, grabbed Shang Shan’s hair, lifted her head a bit, and pressed the corn cob to her lips. “Open your mouth.”

“Hm?” Shang Shan was drowsy-eyed, red creases marking half her face. She subconsciously parted her lips at the command, only for the corn to be stuffed in firmly, choking her awake. “Cough cough cough! What was that for?”

Mu Qian Tan replied flatly, “Feeding you.”

“Cough cough cough…” Shang Shan coughed for ages before catching her breath, eyes reddened. She rubbed her face with her sleeve, took the corn, and began gnawing. She muttered, “You don’t even know how to feed someone. Who does it like that?”

“You’re really…” Li Biyuan slapped the table, then sat back down, pained. “Just bullying her while she’s silly and gullible. But she’ll grow up someday. Aren’t you afraid she’ll come after you hard then?”

Mu Qian Tan withdrew her hand, propped her forehead on the back of it against the table, and toyed with the vinegar cruet with her other. “No matter what I do, I’ll get revenge anyway. Might as well do anything. Don’t think your god’s-eye view makes you God, sticking your nose in everything. How I act is up to my mood. Keep your fingers off.”

Shang Shan quietly finished the last corn cob, sat dazed for a bit, then grew sleepy again. At that moment, the Female Immortal arrived carrying a basin.

Seeing what she held, Mu Qian Tan slowly set down the vinegar cruet.

The Female Immortal’s face was serene and dignified, gaze not downward—as if cradling flowers. In truth, it was a hefty basin of stew piled like a small mountain.

Even more… substantial than what the villagers had provided on arrival.

She set down the basin, then fetched three sets of bowl and chopsticks, distributing them. It seemed they were to scoop directly from the basin—no noodles or rice as staples.

Mu Qian Tan peered into the basin with her bowl in hand, vaguely making out eggplant, green peppers, shiitake mushrooms, celery, cucumber… and so on. Cucumber?

The ingredients were bizarrely jumbled, not even stir-fried—just boiled in water. Not even vegetarian fare compared! She told herself it was soup, but not a drop of broth existed, leaving one feeling inexplicably lost just looking.

Yet the most wondrous sight came next. As she hesitated, a massive fat tiger nosed the door open, ambled in leisurely, flopped by the Female Immortal’s feet, and swished its tail expectantly.

A tiger. A plump one whose paw nearly spanned a human face. It carried a rice bowl in its mouth and set it by the Female Immortal’s feet.

Even at a zoo, no one got this close to such a legendary beast. Its bulging muscles and enormous frame alone inspired unease. Mu Qian Tan remained wary, only to watch the Female Immortal split a verdant green apple, spear a chopstickful of stew, and toss both into the bowl.

The behemoth plunged its head in and devoured.

Tigers ate apples. Tigers ate big pot stew!

Incomprehensible. Divine. Profound. Utterly unforeseen.

Seeing Mu Qian Tan’s odd expression, the Female Immortal assumed reluctance and said, “Eat. Don’t be shy.”

Shang Shan raised a hand. “Thanks for the meal!” She snatched her chopsticks and dove in.

The Female Immortal said, “Eat plenty.”

Mu Qian Tan held her bowl a while longer. Seeing both others eating, figuring it must be edible, she picked a green pepper and tried it.

Quite good. Tasted like vegetables.

And so the three ate.

The Female Immortal, long secluded, disliked conversation and approached everything with utmost seriousness: tea-tasting was solely tea, flower-viewing solely flowers, eating solely eating—no distractions. Mu Qian Tan simply wasn’t one for talk. This Brain-Damaged Dragon was ravenous from fever and discomfort, staying silent. The meal passed in exceptional quiet—eerie quiet.

One pair of chopsticks stabbed relentlessly into the basin. The food vanished swiftly until only dregs remained. Shang Shan, sated, set down her bowl, patted her belly, regained some spirit, and sought conversation. “Immortal, do you live here alone?”

The Female Immortal showed no surprise at her voracious appetite, as if expecting it. “Yes.”

Shang Shan said, “My master lives alone too, by a vast sea.”

The Female Immortal: “Narrow Sea.”

Shang Shan: “Yeah, so boring there. Master ignores me, so I just babble to Zhengchun, inventing a hundred or eighty new names for her—my parrot at home… Anyway, don’t you get bored alone?”

The Female Immortal shook her head. “The delight of mountain wilds is in the stillness. How could it be boring?”

Shang Shan: “Fair enough. So what do you do here?”

The Female Immortal: “Water flowers, gaze at views, patrol the mountains, eat, sleep.”

“That’s today?” Shang Shan asked. “Tomorrow?”

The Female Immortal: “Water flowers, gaze at views, patrol the mountains, eat, sleep.”

Mu Qian Tan set down her bowl and chopsticks, dabbing the wetness from her lips. Shang Shan muttered, “Every day the same, huh.”

“Mm.”

With them finished, the Female Immortal rose to clear. Shang Shan offered help but was stayed. “Guests should rest. Stay in the earlier room tonight. If unwell, soak in the Cold Spring behind the house. Call if needed.”

Mu Qian Tan’s rising motion hitched slightly.

The earlier room—did that mean the Original Host had visited before?

No more clues from the Female Immortal’s composed visage. Fortunately, she hadn’t played first-meeting today, or suspicion might have arisen.

Leaving the dining hall, Mu Qian Tan gazed at the scattered cabins under moonlight. No need to ask which—only one habitable besides kitchen and main house.

Night thickened, stars twinkled, floral scent keener than day. Mu Qian Tan wove through blossoms, reached the door, opened it: stark as the hall, one bed only.

No issue. Chuck Shang Shan outside at night; one bed sufficed.