Chapter 23
Chapter 23: The Real Purpose
“Well?” Hu Qing asked, practically bouncing. “I passed, didn’t I?”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. She looked nothing like someone who had been swinging a hammer for days.
Master Han stepped forward, trying to look calm. The moment he saw the work, he couldn’t help widening his eyes.
On the table lay a purple sand gold block as large as the work surface itself. It looked like a younger version of his beloved cookware set. Even more shocking—faint patterns were carved into it: goldfish, each one different, lively and playful, swimming across the top, around the sides, and even along the back.
“This—” Master Han’s voice caught. “When did you carve these?”
Hu Qing laughed, proud. “While I was hammering, I used my divine sense as a carving blade. Master Han, I passed, right?”
Master Han ran his hands over the warm metal again and again. The heat itself was proof. This block had been forged from raw ore. His cookware set only needed a reforging—much simpler than this. It didn’t truly require such extreme nine-nine after nine-nine.
But it meant something. That was why he’d demanded perfection.
“All right.” He nodded. “You pass.”
Hu Qing’s grin was immediate. She rubbed two fingers together. “Then about that…”
Master Han laughed. “I know you’re poor. I won’t short you.”
After a brief pause, he said, “Like this. If you truly fix my set, I’ll give you one thousand.”
One thousand.
The cost of a teleportation ticket.
Master Han wasn’t just paying her—he was giving her a way out.
Hu Qing’s mouth split so wide it nearly reached her ears. “Mid-grade spirit crystals?”
“Dream on,” Master Han shot back, laughing. “Get some rest. Build up your spirit before you start. If you ruin my treasure, I’ll smash you.”
“Yes, sir,” Hu Qing said solemnly.
After she’d eaten, slept, and recovered, she even chose an auspicious time. With careful reverence, she carried Master Han’s cookware inside and sealed the room.
Closed-door work.
Master Han trusted Hu Qing—and feared for his treasure. He insisted on supervising again.
This time he watched like a hawk and counted in his heart, strike by strike. Not one more, not one less.
Hu Qing moved so smoothly, so fast, her actions nearly left afterimages. Master Han’s pulse hammered while he counted. Slow down, slow down—
In less than half the time it had taken before, Hu Qing killed the fire. “I did not fail your trust.”
The cookware gleamed like it had just been forged. In the shine, Master Han seemed to glimpse a slender figure from long ago, watching over the largest pot with quiet fondness.
Hu Qing didn’t say a word. She backed out gently, careful not to disturb him.
When Master Han came looking for her again, he was carrying a wine jar large enough to drown in.
“Have a cup,” he said.
Hu Qing eyed the jar. “That cup is going to last until morning.”
Master Han led her up a slope to a small pavilion tucked into the scenery. The view in front was open and wide; behind, trees softened the wind. Below the railing was a sheer cliff.
He handed her a ring first. “Your wages.”
Hu Qing took it without ceremony and slipped it on.
“You’ve been thinking about it for days, haven’t you?” Master Han teased.
He produced two small porcelain cups. Hu Qing lifted the jar and poured for him first.
Without a word, she drank three cups in a row.
Master Han hissed. “Good wine.”
The heat burned down Hu Qing’s throat and settled in her stomach like a flame. She swallowed hard. “Good wine.”
“This is called Neverdrunk,” Master Han said. “Drink as you like. It won’t make you drunk.”
Neverdrunk?
There was wine that couldn’t get you drunk?
“I don’t like drinking,” Master Han said, staring into his cup. “Too many people get drunk and disgrace themselves. But my wife… she liked to drink a little.”
Then he smiled, proud despite the sorrow in his eyes. “My wife was born unable to get drunk. I couldn’t keep her company, so she was unhappy. I brewed this Neverdrunk for her.”
Hu Qing let out a laugh. “The wine never gets you drunk. People get themselves drunk.”
She didn’t even realize the envy threaded through her tone until it was already spoken.
Master Han went still. He repeated the line under his breath, once, twice, three times. Then his shoulders fell. “That’s right. People get themselves drunk…”
Hu Qing realized she’d stepped on something sharp. “Um… you and your wife must have been a match made in heaven.”
Master Han brightened at once. “Of course we were. No one understood her better than I did, and no one understood me better than she did.”
He drank.
Hu Qing refilled his cup immediately.
He didn’t bring up his wife again, and Hu Qing was grateful for it. She hurried to shift the topic. “That cookware set—whoever forged it put real care into it.”
Master Han lifted his chin, pleased. “Naturally.”
Hu Qing tried not to show it, but her curiosity spiked. Had his wife forged it? Was she an artifact refiner too?
“It was made by my father-in-law,” Master Han said, grinning. “He personally forged the whole set for me.”
Hu Qing froze.
Master Han laughed loudly, delighted by her expression. “Surprised? My father-in-law treated me very well.”
Hu Qing went quiet, thinking back to the demands of nine-nine after nine-nine. Each strike had to be perfect force, raised high and slammed down hard.
She glanced at Master Han, who was still grinning like a fool, and couldn’t help clicking her tongue.
What a blessed idiot.
Master Han, far above her in cultivation, caught the pity and suppressed laughter in her eyes. His face darkened. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. If you don’t, I’m going to get mad.”
“You told me to say it,” Hu Qing said, still smiling.
“Then say it.”
Hu Qing licked her lips. “Master Han, when your father-in-law—an Immortal Lord—forged that set, he let you watch, didn’t he?”
Master Han blinked. “How do you know that?”
Hu Qing burst out laughing, loud and unstoppable. “Oh, Master Han, Master Han—your father-in-law’s meaning was obvious. He wasn’t pampering you like a son. He was warning you.”
She mimed a hammer swinging down. “If you dare treat his daughter badly, he’ll pound you like purple sand gold—nine-nine after nine-nine.”
Master Han stared, stunned.
Was that really what it meant?
Wasn’t it supposed to mean his father-in-law loved him?
But the more he thought about it, the more Hu Qing’s explanation made horrifying sense.
Hu Qing laughed until she nearly bent in half. “You only realize now? Every father with a daughter is the same. They have to show the brat who stole their daughter how strong they are, so you’ll treat her well.”
Then her laughter softened into something quieter, something almost wistful. “Master Han… you must have treated your wife very, very well. That’s why you never needed the chance to understand what he meant.”
Master Han didn’t speak for a long time. His eyes turned wet. He poured and drank in quick gulps, as if he could burn the sting away.
“My wife and my father-in-law were both good people,” he said hoarsely. “It’s a pity they… didn’t live out their years.”
Hu Qing opened her mouth, then shut it again. She’d meant to keep the mood light.
Master Han suddenly looked at her. “What was your father like?”
Hu Qing’s smile thinned. “I barely remember.”
She stared out into the dark beyond the pavilion. “When I was thirteen, I was sold to someone as a concubine. My father took the silver and decided that at least he hadn’t raised me for nothing.”
Master Han jolted. “A concubine?”
His gaze swept over her, disbelief plain on his face.
Hu Qing sighed. “Master Han, have you never seen a concubine? I was mortal back then. Later they tested me and found I had spiritual roots, and only then did I start cultivating.”
Master Han made a strangled sound. “I’ve never seen a mortal in my entire life.”
Hu Qing blinked. “There are really no mortals in the immortal realm?”
“It’s not that there are none,” Master Han said slowly. “I’ve heard there are certain regions where mortals live. But the Heavenly Dao is strict. If an immortal enters, they die.”
Hu Qing’s scalp tingled. “Really? That extreme?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Master Han admitted. “I heard it from the people Food Delicacies sends to search for ingredients. I wonder if they have anything there that tastes different.”
Then he leaned forward, suddenly curious again. “You used to be mortal. What did mortals eat?”
From there, the conversation wandered far away. They talked through the entire night about food—what tasted good, what didn’t, what could be made better.
Only later did Hu Qing truly understand why the wine was called Neverdrunk.
It wasn’t that you never got drunk. It was that you never got the chance to lose control.
When she finally returned to her room, she still felt clear-headed. The moment she touched the bed, she collapsed into sleep.
She slept for days.
When she finally woke, one question rose in her mind, sharp and unavoidable:
If Master Han’s wife was born unable to get drunk… what had she done to him while he was dead asleep?