Chapter Forty-Four: The Festival of Blossoms

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Please vote for my novel if you like it! The growth in recommendations has been so slow! By the way, thank you to GOD Yue for the reward—at last, the book has received its first disciple, truly a cause for celebration. And thanks as well to Cihu for the continuous support.

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“I never expected your culinary skills to be so remarkable, Junior Brother. I’ve been to Drunken Fragrance House and Painted Cloud Pavilion, and those so-called top chefs there can’t compare to your cooking—it’s absolutely delicious,” Drunken Mortal Dust praised with a smile. “This really is a delightful surprise.”

Even little Leaf, who had been eating quietly, had to admit that the dishes made with these fish were exceptionally tasty and free of any fishy smell. She mumbled, “Uncle… your cooking really is delicious.”

Hearing himself finally addressed as “Uncle,” Liu Ping felt all his hard work had been more than worthwhile.

Flower said nothing, but as she ate in silence, her heart was brimming with joy. She thought, Uncle truly lives up to his name! Even though silly Guo’er had told her herself that Uncle was cooking and urged her to come down quickly, she hadn’t believed it would be good. Now she’d really missed out! The thought made her snicker mischievously.

Liu Ping said, “As long as Senior Sister approves, I’m relieved. I was a bit anxious that the taste might not suit you, and that would have been dreadful. But hearing your praise puts my mind at ease.”

“If you’re still not confident after making such delicious food, Uncle, you really are far too modest,” Flower interjected. “Aren’t you going to eat, Uncle?”

“Watching all of you eat so happily is more than enough for me. What more could I want?” Liu Ping replied with a smile. “This is what’s called ‘feasting on beauty itself.’”

Drunken Mortal Dust laughed, “Junior Brother, there you go again with your silver tongue.”

Liu Ping nodded, “Alright, perhaps I am a bit glib. But I did sample some of the dishes while cooking, so I’m not hungry. Don’t mind me—if it’s not enough, I can always make more.”

Gazing at the table laden with dishes, Drunken Mortal Dust said, “This is already more than enough.”

“I still don’t think it’s enough,” Flower piped up again.

“Children shouldn’t interrupt when adults are speaking,” Drunken Mortal Dust said sternly.

Flower immediately protested, “But Master, that’s not really fair…” But glancing at her master’s expression and recalling the book-copying punishment from the other day, she quickly changed her tune: “But of course Master is right—I admit my mistake.”

Looking at her pitiful little face, Drunken Mortal Dust could only sigh, “You little imp, always full of tricks.”

In the blink of an eye, evening arrived. Once again, Liu Ping cooked personally, preparing a different spread this time: Kung Pao Chicken, Spicy Chicken, Fish-Flavored Shredded Pork, Dongpo Pork Knuckle, Dry-Braised Mandarin Fish, and finally a small stove. They thought it was for hotpot—something common in winter—but it turned out to be a dry pot, specifically Dry Pot Spare Ribs.

This time, he completely conquered their palates. Another three days passed in a flash; it had now been five days here, and their relationships had grown much closer.

The wounds to the soul had also fully healed. Though reluctant, Liu Ping had to admit that the time to take his leave had come.

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Though no one mentioned it, this parting was inevitable.

Still, though there was some reluctance, there was no sadness, for it was not a farewell without return; so long as Liu Ping was willing, he could visit frequently.

Yet, knowing this didn’t make it any easier to leave.

The two little ones circled around Liu Ping, and even Leaf, who was usually not expressive, showed clear signs of unwillingness—so different from before.

Most obvious was Flower, who clung to Liu Ping from the moment they left the loft, through the peach blossom grove, all the way to the gate, refusing to let go.

Drunken Mortal Dust said little, but couldn’t help but feel a touch of melancholy. Yet, on second thought, isn’t this what life is? There was no need to suppress or resist such feelings, for having descended into the mortal world, isn’t this precisely what she sought to experience?

The path of immortality is elusive, its journey filled with loneliness and detachment. All emotions must be severed, all desires cut away, for sentiment only causes one to falter. Glory and wealth make one complacent, so one must remain free of attachment and desire.

But she refused to live that way. She chose to indulge in the mortal world, to temper herself within it, to become supremely detached—not by having no feelings, but by holding them so lightly it was as if she’d forgotten them.

True detachment is not the absence of emotion, but feeling it deeply and tasting it quietly, without needing vows of life and death, and without being bound or troubled by love. This was the kind of partner Drunken Mortal Dust sought, the kind of love she pursued.

But some people never understood this; they failed to see what a lofty ideal true detachment was, thinking only of intimacy and affection. Seeing the look of reluctance in Drunken Mortal Dust’s eyes, Liu Ping couldn’t help but tease, “Senior Sister, are you really so loath to part with me? As it happens, I’m rather reluctant to leave you, too.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he regretted them—wasn’t this just flirting? Sure enough, his senior sister, who had just shown a hint of sadness, immediately put on a stern face and kicked him out.

Recalling how Drunken Mortal Dust had hurriedly shooed him away, Liu Ping felt a twinge of regret, but also some happiness; a smile tugged at his lips. “She must be embarrassed.”

“But, that was definitely flirting—I’ll have to make it up to her and behave with more propriety, or all the goodwill I’ve built up these days will be for nothing.”

As Drunken Mortal Dust huffily shut Liu Ping out, she instructed Flower and Leaf to close the door. Suddenly, Flower blurted out, “Master, why is your face red?”

“My face is not red!” Drunken Mortal Dust snapped.

“It really is,” Flower said with a knowing smile.

“Still talking?”

“It’s not red, not red at all. Master’s face isn’t red…”

“……”

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It was now morning. Five days had passed inside, but outside, only a single day had gone by—a strange sensation that others would find hard to imagine.

Hiring an ox cart, Liu Ping made his way back to the academy, only to find, upon arriving at the dorm, that Zhu Yingtai had not yet left for class. He soon learned that it was a rest day.

Seeing Liu Ping, Zhu Yingtai greeted him with a broad smile, “Fengchang, you’re finally back.”

“Sorry to have worried you,” Liu Ping replied. “Where’s Zhongbo? I just went to look for him but couldn’t find him.”

Zhu Yingtai answered, “Brother Zhongbo’s father sent someone to fetch him. He’d already recovered somewhat before he left, so I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“That’s good,” said Liu Ping. “By the way, is Teacher Ning still giving lessons?”

“Ning? Oh, you mean the one who punished you and Wang Hong? For some reason, he’s already resigned from his post, so you can return to class tomorrow.”

“I see.” Liu Ping nodded, reflecting to himself: So the gossip was true—what a pitiful fellow. He didn’t mention this aloud; after all, spreading such rumors would be beneath him. He wasn’t a saint, but neither was he a petty man.

In the blink of an eye, the fifteenth day of the second month arrived.

This day was the Festival of Flowers.

In his previous life, he’d scarcely heard of it, but whether in ancient times or in this world, it was a festival of great importance. In the southwest, it fell on the second day of the second lunar month; in Jiangnan and the northeast, on the fifteenth.

It was a festival paired with the Mid-Autumn Festival—hence, “Flowers for the Day, Moon for the Night.”

At Heavenly Enlightenment Academy, the students were granted a three-day holiday for the festival. The news was met with cheers and high spirits, and everyone quickly began organizing outings in the countryside.

Wang Hong had not yet returned, so Liu Ping made plans with Zhu Yingtai and Zhou Yu. They’d agreed the night before to form a group for the day’s excursion, so early in the morning, Zhu Yingtai excitedly shook Liu Ping awake. “Fengchang, get up! It’s a beautiful holiday—how can you still be sleeping?”

Looking out at the dim sky, Liu Ping was rendered speechless. He already rose early most days, but Zhu Yingtai was up even earlier, overflowing with excitement as though she were a child on her first school trip. Was it really such a big deal?

Yet, what Liu Ping found routine was a first for her, and she was naturally full of anticipation.

“Alright, stop pushing. I’m getting up,” Liu Ping said hurriedly.