novelraw Chapter 1020: How Could There Be a Path to Immortality in This World? (28)
Chapter 1020: How Could There Be a Path to Immortality in This World? (28)
"Has it been several years since we last saw Ben Mountain?"
In front of the television, Song San, who was peeling peanuts, suddenly asked this question. Beside him, Song Da, also peeling an orange while watching the comedy show on TV, didn’t find it funny at all. He yawned and said, "Yeah, it's been years, hasn't it?"
The two of them were in their assigned room, watching the Spring Festival Gala. Though Mr. Blind had instructed them not to wander around, at least their treatment wasn’t unfair when it came to food and amenities.
However, their current lifestyle felt like house arrest. Besides eating, watching TV, and playing on their phones, there wasn’t much else to do.
Finally, the two brothers realized something: Mr. Blind had probably brought them along just to carry luggage and make travel more convenient.
At Crouching Dragon Estate, they were likely only slightly more important than the service staff. It seemed that even the most random guests here had the ability to crush them effortlessly.
The world outside was too dangerous—staying in their room felt much safer. Once this thought settled in, Song Da and Song San began living like hermits, refusing to leave their quarters.
Lying on the bed, Song San scratched his backside and suddenly said, "Hey, Da, should we go out for a walk?"
"Where to?" Song Da glanced at him sideways.
Their range of movement was limited to the Inner Hall of the estate, and even then, the accessible area was quite restricted.Song San’s eyes darted around as he suggested, "How about checking out that cave?"
"The cave dwelling?" Song Da hesitated.
They had overheard some talkative Daoists mention it—a place that had been discovered recently, rumored to contain an incredible opportunity that someone had already obtained.
"Yeah! If we don’t take a look at something that significant, wouldn’t this trip be a waste?" Song San said seriously.
Song Da shook his head. "It’s been open for a while. If we go now, what’s even left to see? You think this is a novel? That some legendary treasure is still lying around just for you to pick up? Wake up, you're not the main character. Besides, don’t you think they have guards stationed outside? How do we even get in?"
"So, we just sit here and keep watching the Spring Festival Gala?" Song San kept peeling peanuts, eyes on the TV.
Song Da continued peeling his orange, also watching the screen.
The comedy sketches without Ben Mountain still played, but somehow, it just didn’t feel like the old New Year’s atmosphere anymore.
After a long pause, Song Da suddenly cursed, "Damn it! A man should be bold and fearless!"
"Let's go then!" Song San smacked his thigh and sat up.
…
In a nearby room, after dinner, Daoist Baijie paid another visit to Mr. Blind. Of course, he didn’t come empty-handed—he brought various rare materials needed for Mr. Blind’s divination.
The transition between the old year and the new one always brought subtle shifts in the world, much like the brief moment of stillness when a computer shuts down before restarting. In that gap, one could glimpse deeper truths—such as fate.
Mr. Blind had already purified himself through fasting and ritual cleansing. He now sat in meditation inside a quiet chamber, surrounded by the special artifacts provided by Daoist Baijie, each capable of offering spiritual protection and inspiration. In such a short time, very few in the Daoist World could gather so many rare objects.
Evergreen Daoist Baijie was naturally one of them.
"The two kids you brought seem restless," Daoist Baijie said with a slight smile, half-opening his eyes.
Mr. Blind replied calmly, "They’re interesting. The two of them have another brother who stayed overseas this time. But all three of them have unusual fates. Just let them be."
Daoist Baijie nodded without further comment. Though this man had once committed a grave sin, his intentions were always for the greater development of the Daoist World—his methods had simply been too extreme.
If Qingxiaozi, the man now known as Mr. Blind, had truly harbored evil intentions, Daoist Baijie wouldn’t have shielded him back then, even using his authority as President of the Daoist Association and Head of Kunlun Sect to secure his exile instead of execution.
As Mr. Blind entered deep meditation, preparing for his divination several hours later, Daoist Baijie followed suit, deciding not to interrupt him.
Originally, he had intended to ask for a reading about the recent Daoist-Demon Alliance member disappearances.
Many believed these incidents were a direct consequence of the Emperor’s Edict resurfacing. Even before the Xuanyuan Palace and Management Bureau issued their joint statement, both sides had been clashing in the shadows. In less than half a month, numerous grudges had already been formed.
However, the more pressing concern was the 71st Generation of Heavenly Heart, which was attempting to replicate what Mr. Blind had done years ago.
For the Daoist World of Divine Land, this could either be a great opportunity or a catastrophic disaster. Compared to a few missing members, this was far more significant.
After weighing the options, Daoist Baijie chose not to distract Mr. Blind with lesser matters.
These were turbulent times…
Gradually, Daoist Baijie entered a deep meditative state, clearing his mind.
Outside, the wind rustled through the phoenix tree.
…
Old Master Song was an excellent cook, a skill he had picked up from his family's chef, Uncle Si.
Perhaps it was because they were in the Song Family’s Ancestral Mansion, or maybe it was because the family had gained a new member, Luo Qiu, this year. Whatever the reason, Old Master Song had been in high spirits throughout the preparation, his face flushed with excitement when the feast began.
Song Haoran had come out of his room early, though he seemed distracted.
As for Song Ying and Zhang Qianrui, they only returned by car around 7 PM. Strangely, Zhang Qianrui was the one driving.
Even the Song Family’s bodyguards found this odd—Miss Song, who loved driving, had actually let someone else take the wheel? That was unheard of.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Luo Qiu asked, glancing curiously at Song Ying.
She kept shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
But instead of answering, Song Ying simply rolled her eyes at him. Luo Qiu blinked, feeling like he had somehow been dragged into trouble for no reason, but he didn’t say anything.
Despite Song Haoran’s occasional absentmindedness while holding his wine cup and Song Ying’s restless fidgeting, Old Master Song’s enthusiasm remained high.
He even insisted that Uncle Wu set aside formalities and sit with them to share a drink.
They played drinking games, shared stories and past events, and lamented how the Spring Festival Gala wasn’t as good as it used to be.
But perhaps, on special occasions, the most precious thing was simply being able to enjoy an ordinary moment together as a family.
No words were more meaningful than Song Tianyou, the head of the family, announcing:
"Let’s eat."
However, Miss Zhang seemed somewhat downcast—perhaps missing her grandmother back home.
After dinner, Old Master Song, too intoxicated to continue, retired early with Uncle Wu’s assistance.
Zhang Qianrui also excused herself early, likely heading back to her room to call her grandmother.
The dining hall was now left with only three young members of the Song family from two generations. Because her father had been in high spirits during the meal, Song Ying had also drunk quite a bit. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, making her look strikingly radiant, and her gaze was somewhat hazy.
A woman with a slight touch of alcohol always seemed to exude a certain charm and warmth.
"I need to step out for a bit." Song Haoran suddenly seemed to remember something. After leaving this remark, he hurried off to his room.
Resting her chin on her hand, Song Ying suddenly said, "There's something different about Song Haoran."
Luo Qiu, who was cleaning up the dishes, paused. "Different?"
"A story… a story!" Song Ying's eyes were half-closed. "Didn't you notice he talked a lot less tonight?"
Luo Qiu chuckled. "He looks quite decent when he's serious."
"I'm actually speechless?" Song Ying blinked in surprise.
Perhaps due to the alcohol, she suddenly stood up and grabbed Luo Qiu's wrist. "Stop cleaning up. Come outside with me to get some fresh air. I drank too much, and I feel awful."
Luo Qiu paused, then suggested, "Going outside right after drinking can easily make you catch a cold. What you need right now is warm tea and rest. Why not go back to your room? I'll bring you some tea later."
Impatiently, Song Ying snapped, "First, you’re cleaning up the dishes, now you’re serving tea? Are you my family's servant? Why do you talk so much?!"
"Alright then." Luo Qiu glanced at the time, then nodded. "I'll be right there… but at least let me wash my hands first?"
After all, handling dishes inevitably got them dirty.
---
However, Song Ying quickly regretted her decision to go outside because… damn, it was freezing!
The warmth from the alcohol dissipated quickly as the cold wind swept it away. Sitting on the steps of the pavilion outside, she rubbed her hands together, blew into them for warmth, and shivered while hugging herself.
She muttered, "Damn it… if he doesn’t come soon, I’m going to freeze to death…"
"That's why I suggested you go back to your room."
Song Ying looked up to see Luo Qiu approaching, carrying a coat draped over his arm and a bottle in his hand. The coat was obviously for her, and he handed it to her.
Her body was honest—without hesitation, she wrapped herself in the coat.
"What’s that?" she asked, curiously eyeing the bottle Luo Qiu had brought.
After unscrewing the cap, Luo Qiu poured out a thick, carrot-red liquid. Handing it to Song Ying, he smiled. "Tomato juice. Found some in the kitchen, so I made a little. It helps with sobering up."
Song Ying hesitated, staring at the mysterious liquid. After a moment of reluctance, she took a sip from the bottle cap. "…It’s awful! Why is tomato juice salty?"
"Probably because some salt was added. But that actually makes it work better," Luo Qiu explained.
"What kind of weird remedy is this…" Song Ying frowned. Despite her complaints, she still drank it—slowly, reluctantly, like a child forced to take bitter medicine.
It was a struggle, but she finally finished it.
After that, Song Ying wrapped herself tightly in the coat and looked up at the night sky… It wasn’t like summer, nor like the past—there were only a few stars.
Suddenly, she said, "‘Farewell’… can you play it again?"
Luo Qiu showed a hint of surprise.
Song Ying turned to look at him, her eyes unwavering. "Last time, when we fell off the cliff, you played it. I heard from Zhang Qianrui that this song is called ‘Farewell.’"
"Zhang Qianrui… Seems like you two are quite close." Luo Qiu smiled. "But this song is a bit melancholic. Is it really suitable for a holiday?"
"Just play it! Why do you talk so much?!" Song Ying glared at him.
"Alright." Luo Qiu nodded.
But this time, he didn’t look for a leaf. Instead, he clasped his hands together and brought them to his lips.
Hand flute.
His fingers started moving slowly, letting the airflow pass through his palms and fingertips, producing a sound like the wind flowing through a valley—ethereal and distant.
"Farewell."
Song Ying always felt that Luo Qiu could do incredible things with ease.
Why was that?
He was truly an unpredictable person.
There weren’t many stars in the sky. Occasionally, she’d see one that shone particularly bright, and if she stared at it long enough, it felt like she could lose herself in it. The melody, resembling the whispering wind of a valley, made time seem to slow down.
She even wished that time would stop completely.
Gradually, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pavilion's column. Unknowingly, she had fallen asleep.
The melody from the hand flute slowly faded away.
---
Uncle Wu, who had just finished tucking in Old Master Song, heard the tune. He stopped what he was doing and looked in the direction of the sound… He didn’t know where it came from, but it was soothing.
Inside a room, Zhang Qianrui was still talking in hushed tones with Zhang Lilanfang. When the music reached them, she seemed lost in thought for a moment before resuming her quiet conversation with her grandmother. The light in the room gradually softened.
In another room, Song Haoran paced while reading an old book. He seemed deep in thought. Suddenly, he stopped, walked to the window, and looked up at the night sky.
He wasn’t looking for falling stars—just gazing at the moon. Then, he smiled, as if he had come to a new realization, and quickly flipped to the next page.
The year was almost over.
---
10:00 PM
The large clock in the club’s lobby chimed.
Luo Qiu had returned—after sending Song Ying back to her room, the events at the Song Family Ancestral Mansion had come to an end.
However, to his surprise, the first person he saw upon returning wasn’t Yōu Yè, but an unexpected guest—Nero.
Luo Qiu had always felt that Nero was someone with a very carefree attitude.
For example, right now, she appeared in front of him in a rather improper state.
Having just finished a bath, Nero was walking out while drying her hair with a towel. "Hey, beautiful lady, can I borrow some clothes to wear? Oh~ Boss, good evening."
Luo Qiu slightly opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
Nero… wasn’t wearing any clothes.
She even playfully posed and grinned. "Boss, what do you think of my figure? Do you think I could fetch a good price?"
(End of Chapter)