Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Su Bai

After Lin Zhao kowtowed three solid times before the ancestral tablets, she left the shrine.

Outside, a few young maidens walked in pairs. When they saw her, they stopped and bowed.

“Third Miss,” they greeted respectfully—yet their eyes still flicked over her face, searching for cracks.

After all, her husband had left on their wedding day.

Even in the cultivation world, that kind of humiliation cut deep.

Lin Zhao returned their greetings with a small smile, calm enough to ease their shoulders. She didn’t flinch away from their pity or curiosity. She simply walked on, steps steady, as if her spine had never known how to bend.

Before long, a familiar courtyard gate appeared.

She pushed it open.

Beneath an old tree, beside a stone table, sat a figure in white.

He was beautiful in a way that made ordinary words feel clumsy. “Handsome” didn’t fit. “Pretty” was worse. Lin Zhao had no better description than the one that rose in her mind with reluctant honesty:

He looked like trouble.

The youth tilted his head, dark lashes lowering like a curtain. A snow-white little beast perched on his shoulder, tail swishing with impatience.

“Sister is back,” the youth said.

At the sound of his voice, the little beast shot forward in a streak of white light and crashed into Lin Zhao’s arms. It burrowed against her chest with a soft, indignant chirp, as if scolding her for leaving so long.

Lin Zhao laughed under her breath and stroked its fur. The warmth of that small body against her finally made the world feel real again.

“Mi Li,” she murmured.

Only then did she look up fully.

“Su Bai,” she said, voice softening despite herself. “Why are you in my courtyard?”

Su Bai rose.

Lin Zhao realized, with a sharp little pang, that the boy she had once picked up from a battlefield had grown taller than her by a head. His shoulders were broader now, his frame lean, his presence no longer that of a child clinging to her sleeve.

“I missed Sister,” Su Bai said simply.

His gaze flicked past her, toward the path outside, as if measuring threats that weren’t visible.

“I already had a maid prepare water inside,” he added. “Go rest. No Holy Son’s junior sister will come here to bother you.”

Lin Zhao didn’t think too much of it. She was too tired, too raw.

She nodded and went inside.

When the door closed, Su Bai lowered his gaze to the little beast now back on his shoulder.

His fingertips lifted. A thread of dazzling lightning flickered, then vanished as if swallowed by air.

“Mi Li,” he murmured, voice light but eyes cold, “if I ruin that junior sister’s face… will Sister be sad?”

Mi Li blinked, then huffed.

Su Bai’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

…

Even though cultivators could clean themselves with a simple dust-cleansing art, Lin Zhao still loved the honest comfort of a bath.

Hot water wrapped around her skin. Steam blurred the world. For a brief moment, she could pretend she wasn’t made of bruises.

Cultivators were told to avoid greed, anger, obsession, desire. But the Dao was hard to find. She had once endured discipline until it ground down her bones.

What had it earned her?

She exhaled slowly.

Let her drink today’s wine today.

When she rose and dressed, her gaze caught on a blue dress set neatly by the rack.

Warmth stirred in her chest.

On Mount Yun Ding, Yun Ding had always warned her: as the Senior Sister, she had to lead by example, discern right from wrong, never indulge. It was best not to wear worldly clothing at all.

So she had worn those cold, funeral-like robes for ten straight years, never daring to change.

The Lin Family remembered anyway.

She tied her hair, adjusted her sleeves, and left her room.

At the Clan Great Hall, laughter rang bright as bells. Young maidens played in the open space, darting between columns like sparrows.

Lin Zhao couldn’t help a quiet sigh.

“Youth is wonderful.”

“Sister is only sixteen,” a voice said beside her, amused. “Why do you talk like an old monster?”

Lin Zhao turned.

Su Bai stood there with a White Jade Bone Umbrella in hand, red brocade draped over his frame in a way that made him look like a figure torn from a painting—an immortal exile painted in rich color and sharp lines.

Even after seeing his beauty under the tree, Lin Zhao still paused for half a beat.

“Little Bai,” she said, tone turning teasing, “with what you’re wearing today, I’d believe you were an immortal from a scroll.”

Su Bai’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the umbrella handle.

“Does it look good?” he asked, as if it mattered more than it should.

Lin Zhao’s smile softened, then turned complicated.

Su Bai was the adopted son the Lin Family had taken in when Lin Zhao was five, picked up from the battlefield. He was one year younger than her. Because they were close in age, they had once been inseparable—until the plot had forced her away.

After that, she only heard rumors: that Su Bai had entered a terrifying faction; that someone in the shadows had stabilized the Lin Family’s position when they should have fallen.

Looking at him now—too calm, too careful—Lin Zhao’s chest tightened.

This burden should have been hers. She was the family head’s daughter. She was the one with cultivation talent.

Instead, Su Bai had carried what she should have carried.

Lin Zhao lifted her hand to pat his shoulder out of old habit, then realized she couldn’t reach the top of his head anymore. She adjusted mid-gesture and gave his arm a solid slap instead.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Sister is back. From now on, you won’t need to be so careful.”

Su Bai looked down at the brocade he’d chosen with such attention, now slightly wrinkled from her slap.

“…Mm,” he said, expression blank.

As Lin Zhao started toward the crowd, he let out a small breath and muttered under his breath, almost fond.

“With you like this, I do believe those three days and three nights you only wanted an explanation… and felt nothing.”

Then he fell into step behind her.

As soon as they approached, the hall’s attention shifted like a tide.

“It’s the Young Lord!”

“And Young Master Su Bai!”

No matter what rumors festered outside, Lin Zhao was still the only child of the Lin Family head with cultivation talent, born with Phoenix Fortune—even crippled as it was. And Su Bai was even harder to offend.

It was said that even the family head and the grand elder treated Young Master Su Bai with a measure of respect.

If his status gained him little, no one understood why he still appeared. But no one complained. With someone like him present, the hall felt safer.

Especially the maidens of age. Their eyes softened when they looked at him, soft enough to drip.

Then they noticed something else.

Su Bai—who rarely appeared—had come in behind Third Miss.

Before anyone else could move, a gorgeous maiden in a red robe strode forward, ponytail high, steps sharp as a challenge. She stopped directly in front of Lin Zhao.

“Third Sister,” she said, voice bright and biting, “did you also hear the clan is using the South Sea Academy slot as the top prize for this selection? So you came to compete?”

Her gaze swept over Lin Zhao, jealousy flashing like flame. She had admired Su Bai for a long time. He always seemed warm, yet truly indifferent. Many excellent maidens had shown him affection—Lin Yi included—and none had gained more than a polite smile.

Yet the moment Lin Zhao returned, Su Bai came with her.

Even if Lin Yi didn’t want to think about it, she had to admit it.

These two were close in a way that didn’t look like mere siblings.

Lin Zhao clicked her tongue inwardly. Father and Mother moved fast—already turning the admission slot into a competition prize. The clan competition required participants under twenty.

In that case, Lin Zhao wasn’t without confidence.

As for Lin Yi’s hostility… that was simply misfortune.

“Yes,” Lin Zhao said, nodding once. She didn’t deny it.

Lin Yi gave a cold laugh. “With only mid Foundation Establishment, Third Sister is nowhere near enough in this clan. You probably won’t get what you want.”