Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bathing

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Seeing Liu Ping’s helpless, bitter smile, Zhu Yingtai’s expression flickered, her brows arching slightly as she wondered if there truly was such a strange affair at play.

“Fine, fine, I’ll believe you for now. But you were only gone for a few dozen breaths—how could you have accomplished so much in that time?” Zhu Yingtai waved her hand, questioning him.

Liu Ping replied, “That must be the difference between time on earth and in the heavens—one day below, a year above.”

Zhu Yingtai countered, “Isn’t the saying always that a year on earth is a day in the heavens? Why is it reversed with you?”

Liu Ping answered, “That’s just a saying, the sort of thing common folk repeat without real understanding. How could it be taken as truth?”

“Heh... you’re certainly dismissing a whole lot of commoners with that remark. Well, tell me, how did you help your fairy-like elder sister?”

Liu Ping then gave her a general account of what had happened, though he glossed over his closeness with Meng Shang, regarding that as a private matter and not something to boast about.

Listening to Liu Ping’s detailed explanation, Zhu Yingtai grew more and more astonished—it seemed this was all real.

So much had happened in just a few dozen breaths?

What surprised her further was Liu Ping’s knowledge. He actually understood the fundamental differences between grasses and flowers.

Monocots? Dicots?

After hearing this, she felt even more mystified, as if shrouded in clouds and mist, and became convinced that Liu Ping’s depth was unfathomable. How could someone so talented possibly rank below her?

Then why had he only placed fifth in the academy’s examinations? Oh... she understood now. Perhaps it was like wearing splendid clothes at night, keeping a low profile? And he still claimed his talent was inferior to hers—how infuriating. The more she thought about it, the more inscrutable he seemed.

Yet, for all that, she didn’t feel any urge to distance herself. On the contrary, she felt rather pleased.

To think that her confidant and dearest friend was so remarkable filled her with pride.

※※※※※※

In the blink of an eye, it was early February—the time of Awakening of Insects.

Awakening of Insects, the second solar term of February... all things begin to stir, thunder rumbles, and so the term signifies hibernating insects startled awake from their slumber.

Suddenly, a rolling peal of thunder echoed from the overcast clouds. Students on horseback looked up, unable to suppress a faint look of regret.

Today’s riding lesson was delayed by this spring rain.

After all, getting drenched would likely bring on chills, something no one wished for. So, though they were disappointed, there was nothing to be done.

“Spring rain is as precious as oil—just a pity it comes at the wrong time,” Liu Ping said with a tinge of regret.

Beside him, Wang Hong shook his head and said, “It’s come at just the right time. I’ve been pouring all my energy into study these past days, preparing to sweep through the exams in the latter half of the year. Now that it’s raining, I can go back to study.”

Liu Ping replied, “Then I’ll look forward to seeing your results.”

Wang Hong, brimming with confidence, declared, “Just wait!”

At that moment, Zhou Yu and Zhu Yingtai approached.

Zhou Yu grinned and said, “Well said—spring rain is indeed as precious as oil... Liu, you have no idea. When Zhu was in my group, he always wore such a sullen face, it was rather intimidating.”

Liu Ping asked curiously, “Why was that?”

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Zhu Yingtai quickly interjected, “Don’t listen to Brother Baihao’s nonsense, Liu. He’s exaggerating.”

“How is it nonsense?” Zhou Yu laughed, turning to Liu Ping. “He was only disappointed he couldn’t be in your team, of course. Honestly, how am I supposed to take that? I knew Zhu before you did, yet somehow he’s become your confidant instead.”

There was a hint of complaint in his voice, which made Zhu Yingtai flustered. She waved her hands and said, “Not at all, you’re making things up. I only complained once, and now you twist it so. How embarrassing.”

Liu Ping smiled and said, “You can team up with Jie next time. As for Wang Hong, he’s got a head full of nothing but classics, always dragging me down and making me the worst in riding.”

He felt a secret satisfaction—though Zhou Yu didn’t know Zhu Yingtai’s true identity, he still seemed annoyed that Liu had ‘taken’ Zhu Yingtai as a close companion. Now, seeing that Zhu Yingtai actually wanted to be in his group, Liu Ping was quietly pleased.

Wang Hong, hearing the teasing, retorted, “How is memorizing the classics a blockhead’s pursuit? Fine, call me blockheaded if you wish. I’m not especially bright, so if I don’t work hard, what else can I do?”

Zhou Yu, a bit sour, chimed in, “Exactly. Neither of us can measure up to Liu or Zhu, so we have to make up for it through sheer effort.”

Zhu Yingtai hastily added, “I work hard too—you mustn’t think I’m really a genius.”

Hard work, hard work—I’m not alone in it, am I? Liu Ping couldn’t help but sigh, “The path up the mountain of books is paved by diligence, the boundless sea of learning crossed by hard work. Is it not so? Let us encourage each other... I also—”

“Bah! You fiend, to spout such gems as ‘the path up the mountain of books is paved by diligence, the boundless sea of learning crossed by hard work’ off the cuff—don’t lump yourself in with us mere plodders! You’re clearly a genius through and through. Trying to sneak into our ranks of mediocrity? No way!” Wang Hong suddenly burst out, determined to cast Liu Ping out of their group.

Zhou Yu couldn’t help but applaud. “Well said! But Wang Hong is right, too.”

Liu Ping could only smile wryly; he truly hadn’t meant to show off, but had spoken without thinking—he hadn’t expected such a reaction.

Zhu Yingtai laughed, “The path up the mountain of books is paved by diligence, the boundless sea of learning crossed by hard work—‘sea of learning’ set against ‘mountain of books’; ‘boundless’ with ‘finite’; ‘hard work as a boat’ with ‘diligence as a path’—every word balanced in sound, meaning, and imagery. Truly a masterpiece for the ages! Worthy of you, Liu.”

Liu Ping put on a solemn face, “That wasn’t my creation...”

Immediately, the three were curious. “Then who composed it?”

Liu Ping thought for a moment. “My teacher...”

“Your teacher? The magistrate? Impossible, surely?”

Liu Ping replied, “My early teacher, the one who taught me to read as a child—he’s passed away now...”

The three exchanged skeptical looks. Such a fine couplet could hardly come from an unknown teacher. But since Liu Ping wouldn’t admit it, they let it go.

After chatting a while longer, they parted ways.

After leaving Zhu Yingtai and the others, Liu Ping headed straight for the library.

His cultivation had stagnated recently, and his spiritual energy was full to the brim, so he was simply waiting for the time to break through.

But he dared not act rashly. The moment his spirit touched the yang fire, it would instantly sweep through his body—there was no way to adapt slowly. Without thorough preparation, no matter how much he wished to grow stronger, he would never gamble with his life. This was no life-or-death crisis requiring reckless risk.

Cultivating and exploring alone was arduous and perilous. It made him miss his scruffy Daoist master all the more—if only he were here to guide him, Liu Ping would surely have passed the yang fire tribulation by now. But since he’d chosen to walk his own path in the mortal world, there could be no regrets.

Self-study was still possible, so Liu Ping had been reading many books on the subject lately.

The library at Tianqi Academy had five floors, with countless books, even some on... less orthodox topics, though those were well hidden. But it also had a rich collection of Daoist texts, many of which had proved extremely helpful to Liu Ping—so he spent much of his time there these days.

The fifth floor was the quietest, and Liu Ping kept to a corner, unnoticed by anyone.

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He immediately opened one of the books he intended to read that day.

“On Immortality by Gui Yuzhi”

Zhong asked, “What path allows one to live in peace, free of illness, undiminished by age, and untouched by death?”

Gui replied, “Humans are but mortals, destined to return to dust. Only those who follow the path of the immortals can achieve such things.”

Zhong asked, “Are immortals truly undying and indestructible?”

Gui said, “Those who reach the ultimate state are as eternal as the heavens themselves. Though their existence is not infinite, they know neither death nor destruction.”

Zhong asked, “Why is the way of mortals thus, and the way of immortals otherwise?”

Gui replied, “Human life begins with the union of parents, the essence forming the embryo. After the primal beginning comes material form—yin receiving yang, spirit following the transformation in the womb, and in three hundred days, the shape is complete. The divine light enters the body, separating from the mother...”

It took Liu Ping the better part of the day to finish the book. He narrowed his eyes, quietly reflecting and sorting through what he had learned.

Though the benefits were modest, they were real, and that was enough. He believed he would soon find a safe way to break through.

After leaving the library, he made his way to Changyuan.

Changyuan was the academy’s public bathhouse. In ancient times, hygiene was highly valued—bathing was considered a sacred ritual. Even in the coldest weather, there was a saying: wash your hair every three days, bathe every five.

In contrast, fifteenth-century Europe believed the plague could invade through bathing, so for a hundred years, officials, nobles, and the elite all stopped washing themselves or their faces...

In fact, in earlier times, the four characters for bathing each had a different meaning: “mu” was for washing hair, “yu” for the body, “xi” for the feet, and “zao” for the hands.

But that’s a digression, and enough of it.

It was now dusk, the sky growing dark. The bathhouse should have been deserted, the perfect time for a quiet, hot soak—a most inviting prospect.

But when he reached the changing room, he noticed someone else’s clothes in the basket. Thinking nothing of it, he began to undress.

…Inside the bath, Zhu Yingtai’s graceful form was completely immersed in the hot water, her cheeks tinged with a flush, an unconscious sigh escaping her lips—so comfortable.

Sustaining her breath of yin-yang mystic energy was still somewhat taxing, so taking advantage of the empty bathhouse, she had released it to rest and recover.

She was so confident there would be no one else because, ever since enrolling, she had secretly observed the routines. At dusk, not a single student ever came to the bathhouse—after all, it was quite far from the dorms, and no one wanted to walk a long way in the dark. Combined with the dim, misty lighting, it was unthinkable that anyone would bathe at this hour.

Even if a student did come, she could always submerge herself and switch back. She had martial training—holding her breath for a few minutes was no trouble.

She had bathed here two days ago and found it deserted, so after today’s riding lesson, she couldn’t resist coming again.

Suddenly, she sensed something amiss—a student had entered! How could this be...

She quickly slipped under the water, gliding to the edge of the pool and began to silently recite an incantation, gathering her yin-yang mystic energy.

Mist filled the bathhouse, and with no light at dusk, it was quite dim. Liu Ping eased himself into the water, relaxing in the warmth. Noticing no one around, he was surprised. “I saw clothes just now—so where is everyone?”