Master is Also Running Away from Marriage Today (Transmigration) - Chapter 21.1

Luo Zhi never expected that her joyful visit to Luo Yan would once again end in heartbreak.

“I’m leaving.”

The calligraphy Luo Zhi had spent so much time perfecting was given only a cold glance before being pushed aside. The woman in white stood empty-handed, her gaze indifferent, lofty and detached as a deity. Her cool voice carried a hint of admonishment: “Luo Zhi, I am a person without heart or sentiment. We should never have met.”

It was only much later that Luo Zhi truly understood the meaning behind those words.

But at that moment, all she felt was an excruciating pain.

So, Luo Yan had always known her feelings.

Luo Zhi had once longed to imprint her own colors onto Luo Yan’s icy gaze, only to realize now. Under the reflection of those eyes, she was nothing but a clown. She had banged the gong and drum to start this play, performing alone on stage with all her heart, yet when and how it ended had always been in Luo Yan’s hands.

Now, Luo Yan no longer wished to act.

“Alright, safe travels!”

Luo Zhi heard herself say with a smile.

She had her own pride. She had once loved Luo Yan wholeheartedly, unhesitatingly, even if it meant breaking her own spine and freezing her heart. Such an experience was enough. She would never allow it to happen again.

Luo Yan’s lips parted slightly.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed she wanted to say something, but in the end, she remained silent. Just as she had arrived, she departed in her white robes, ascending Taiyun Mountain.

Luo Zhi watched as Luo Yan grew smaller in the distance, feeling as though something had been carved out of her chest, leaving behind an emptiness that deepened with every step.

She tore up the calligraphy and fell gravely ill, but this time, she recovered quickly.

In truth, she had to recover soon because the entire city of Luo had fallen into chaos.

The dragon vein of Luo City had been stolen.

Overnight, all the wells in the city ran dry, flowers withered, and crows circled the city walls. An ominous aura hung over Luo City.

It was only then, from the city lord, that Luo Zhi learned the truth beneath the plum tree in the ancestral shrine lay the dragon vein of Luo City.

The dragon vein represented the city’s fortune, ensuring sweet well water and ever-blooming flowers.

This was Luo City’s secret, known only to successive city lords: the ancestral shrine had been built beside the dragon vein, and outsiders were barred from entering under the pretense of not disturbing the ancestors. When in truth, it was to protect the dragon vein from harm.

In previous years, when Luo Zhi had been seriously ill, the city lord had kept this from her, wanting only for his daughter to live her short life carefree and happy. But now that her health had improved, moved by her concern even while bedridden, he had inadvertently revealed the truth.

Unintentional as his words were, they struck Luo Zhi like a bolt of lightning. She remembered the thoughtful look on Luo Yan’s face when she had taken her to the ancestral shrine and she had gazed at the plum tree.

By the time Luo Zhi recovered, though only a few months had passed, Luo City had transformed. The drought had caused plants to wither, and the people wore sickly expressions, speaking little. The residents had no choice but to dig deep wells for water, but the meager yield was tainted with a foul odor.

This was not the Luocheng that Luo Zhi remembered. She had once gazed proudly from her carriage countless times at the city under her father’s rule: Luocheng was supposed to be a land of peace and prosperity, where everyone wore smiles and lived in health and happiness.

At that moment, Luo Zhi felt she had truly grown up.

She had once been the carefree, innocent, and happy daughter of the city lord, living in luxury thanks to the people’s support. But when the people faced crisis, Luo Zhi knew she had to stand at the forefront.

She quickly matured, learning to assist her father in handling affairs, leading the people in digging wells, and managing the plague.

The first time the idea of crossing the Taiyun Mountain occurred to Luo Zhi was a year later.

The city lord had fallen ill.

After the disappearance of the dragon vein, the city could barely hold on for a month or two. But as time passed, discontent grew among the people, and even a plague broke out in the city.

Luo Zhi stepped into her father’s place at the front lines. She didn’t know why, but despite her frail constitution, she never fell ill after drinking the strange-tasting water with the people or staying in the plague-ridden areas.

By day, Luo Zhi was the composed and efficient daughter of the city lord; by night, she worked tirelessly at her father’s desk, handling all manner of affairs. She hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in many days.

Occasionally, during brief rests, she would dream of a familiar plum blossom fragrance. But Luo Zhi dismissed it as an illusion, forcing herself not to dwell on that lonely figure.

Just as Luocheng was plunged into turmoil, news came from Tucheng beyond the mountain. The once-inept city lord of Tucheng had suddenly died, and a new lord had ascended to the throne. This new ruler was diligent and effective, revitalizing the city. At the same time, the kingdom’s grand preceptor had somehow obtained celestial blessings, transforming the northern desert of Tucheng into an oasis, requiring a large workforce for reclamation.

The fates of the two cities seemed destined to diverge. A flood of people began fleeing Luocheng, crossing the Taiyun Mountain to seek refuge in Tucheng.

Yet, Luo Zhi saw hope in this news.

She knew of Tucheng’s grand preceptor, a spiritual being of the world. Few knew his true appearance, only that his original form was a white serpent. In his youth, he had fallen into danger on the Taiyun Mountain and was saved by the city lord of Tucheng. Grateful, he had since protected the lineage of Tucheng’s rulers, a guardianship that had lasted a thousand years.

Luocheng had no such divine protector.

Luo Zhi didn’t expect the grand preceptor to switch allegiances to Luocheng, but she hoped he might have a solution to their plight.

She shared her plan with Luo Huai.

Luo Huai refused, even stationing guards to prevent her from acting rashly. But Luo Zhi had grown up in Biming Town and knew its hidden paths and secret tunnels. She soon found a way to slip past Luo Huai’s men, taking a few trusted followers up the Taiyun Mountain.

It was the closest Luo Zhi had come to danger in years.

Endless wild beasts and venomous insects, towering ancient trees that blotted out the sun, an endless expanse of dark and shadowy forests.

In such an environment, one could never predict what might appear the next moment.

Two of her followers died from snakebites, another was devoured by a wild beast. The closest brush with death came when a massive bear raised its paw to strike Luo Zhi’s head but for some reason, the beast’s crimson eyes flickered with fear, and the blow never landed.

For several days afterward, Luo Zhi could still smell the foul, fishy breath of the bear as it had sprayed onto her face in her dreams.

At this moment, Luo Zhi couldn’t help but think of someone she hadn’t recalled in a long time. How had she, a lone orphan back then, managed to escape such a terrifying mountain forest?

By the time Luo Zhi emerged from the dense, sky-obscuring jungle, only two trusted companions remained by her side.

The Imperial Preceptor lived in seclusion, dwelling in a specially designated residence within the depths of the palace. Getting an audience with him was harder than ascending to heaven.

Fortunately, Luo Zhi’s luck turned for once. She happened to arrive during the royal sacrificial rites of Tu City. The altar was located in the outskirts, and during the ceremony, the Imperial Preceptor would stay in a tall pavilion beside it.

Luo Zhi spent a fortune bribing a dancer, swapped into the woman’s gaudy costume, and disguised herself as part of the troupe heading to the altar.

Luo Zhi was, in truth, extraordinarily beautiful. The faint air of fragility between her brows made people instinctively want to protect her. She usually preferred plain, understated clothing, so this was the first time she had ever worn such a bright red dance outfit. The flamboyant attire softened the coldness in her expression, accentuating her delicate femininity. So stunning that one couldn’t look away.

Yet this would become the most painful day of Luo Zhi’s life.

Blending in with the dancers, Luo Zhi ascended the altar and caught sight of Tu City’s young lord. Yu Chuan, whom she had met once before.

Her heart trembled, causing her to misstep in the dance. Yu Chuan didn’t seem to notice, but the greedy gazes of many officials and wealthy merchants in the crowd had already locked onto Luo Zhi.

Beside the altar stood a tall pavilion draped in layers of white gauze, making it impossible for Luo Zhi to see the figure inside.

Please don’t let it be her…

Ignoring the ravenous stares of the men around her, Luo Zhi silently pleaded with the heavens, yet a sense of despairing premonition took root in her heart.

But the heavens did not heed her prayer.

As the dance ended and the troupe filed off the stage, a pot-bellied merchant blocked Luo Zhi’s path. “When did Tu City produce such a beauty? How about keeping this elder brother company?”

The stench of alcohol on the man was nauseating. Luo Zhi turned her face away in disgust, but with a wave of his hand, his servants blocked her escape.

“Little beauty, don’t refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit.” The merchant leered, reaching for Luo Zhi’s arm, only to let out a pained cry and jerk his hand back.

“Who dares?!” The man flew into a rage and ordered his servants to seize her. Then, a figure flickered within the pavilion, a flash of white robes, and in the next instant, all those with ill intentions were howling on the ground.

“The Imperial Preceptor!”

The crowd, unprepared for this turn of events, dropped to their knees in a wave of prostration.

Amid the sea of kneeling figures, Luo Zhi lifted her head, her tear-blurred eyes fixed on the pristine white figure before her.

It really is her!

Countless times, Luo Zhi had admonished herself to forget. Yet the moment they stood face to face, she recognized her in an instant.

After all, this was the same figure she had once gazed upon with sweetness and shyness, time and time again!

What more was there to understand?

The lost dragon vein of Luo City, the Imperial Preceptor’s sudden ascension to immortality. It all made sense now.

I was the one who invited the wolf into the house. It was my foolish, delusional pursuit of the heartless Imperial Preceptor that brought this calamity upon Luo City!

“State Preceptor Yu Qing,” Luo Zhi wanted to smile, but tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks. Those delusional memories of the past felt like a harsh slap across her face. Clenching her teeth, she struggled to suppress the hatred in her heart as she knelt before Yu Qing. “Luo Zhi of Luo City has a request for the State Preceptor’s assistance.”

Even after countless millennia, time flowing like an unreturning river, blurring so many things, Yu Qing still remembered Luo Zhi’s smile that day.

Perhaps it was the first time Yu Qing had ever felt the pang of heartache.

As a spirit born of heaven and earth, Yu Qing had long lost count of the years she had lived.

People came and went around her, but she alone seemed unchanging, her gaze forever detached from the mortal world. To her, humans were no different from the birds in the sky.

In all those years, only two people had ever truly caught Yu Qing’s attention.

One was the ancestor of the Tu City’s lord. In her youth, Yu Qing had been captured by villains who severed the meridians at her vital point. It was the ancestor of Tu City’s lord who saved her when she was on the brink of death.

Spirits revered the laws of karma above all. Having been saved by the lord of Tu City, Yu Qing vowed to protect the city for a thousand years, safeguarding the lord’s descendants throughout that time. Even her name, Yu Qing, was given in accordance with the lord’s lineage.

Yu Qing had thought no one else in the world would ever capture her attention again until she met Luo Zhi.

Yu Qing had always sought to recover her lost meridians, for only then could she become a true deity. A decade ago, she received a vague revelation directing her to the back mountains of Taiyun.

In those mountains dwelled a demon who coveted a young girl named Luo Zhi from a nearby villa, seeking to steal her skin and take her place. Yu Qing observed the demon for several days, and in doing so, she also observed the girl.

The girl was extraordinarily beautiful, though her fate showed no sign of longevity. Despite her frighteningly frail health, she seemed utterly carefree, finding joy in the simplest things; a flower, a tree. In her spare time, she would wander the back mountains, pausing breathlessly after just a hundred steps, yet never losing her cheerful demeanor, always greeting others with a smile.

Even someone as aloof as Yu Qing couldn’t help but linger on Luo Zhi’s radiant smile.

An inevitable battle ensued between Yu Qing and the demon. Yu Qing devoured the creature but sustained a leg injury in the process. A wound that should have healed with rest. Yet, it was discovered by the young girl.

Yu Qing didn’t miss the awe in the girl’s eyes. Insisting that Yu Qing was a fragile human, Luo Zhi went to great lengths to care for her. Yu Qing found it absurd: she was the feared State Preceptor who commanded wind and rain; how could she possibly indulge in mortal comforts like clothing and food?

But somehow, perhaps unwilling to dim the girl’s smile, Yu Qing found herself allowing Luo Zhi to draw near.

The girl even gave Yu Qing a name Luo Yan urging her to smile more often. But after centuries of solitude, Yu Qing had long forgotten how to smile.

Yu Qing’s injury healed quickly, but digesting the demon she had consumed proved difficult. Using her recovery as an excuse, she indulged herself by remaining in Luo City, even though the jade bed in Tu City’s State Preceptor residence would have aided her healing far more.

Yu Qing didn’t know what kind of mindset had driven her to stay, nor could she pinpoint the exact day when the little girl’s gaze toward her had changed. When she would inexplicably blush while looking at her.

Yu Qing knew the girl was trying every possible way to make her happy. But as the Imperial Preceptor who had lived for millennia, was there anything in this world she hadn’t seen before?

The mundane trinkets the girl brought could never truly bring Yu Qing joy. Yet, she never stopped the girl’s eager attentions perhaps simply because it was her who was giving them.

But Yu Qing never expected the girl to actually surprise her. Knowing Yu Qing loved plum blossoms, the girl secretly led her into her family’s ancestral shrine, where several plum trees bloomed in full glory. And beneath those trees, Yu Qing sensed the meridian that had been stripped from her years ago.

That meridian had been nurtured within the water source of Luo City, remaining perfectly preserved all these years.

Yu Qing didn’t take it immediately because the girl fell ill.

Watching the girl kneel outside the city lord’s manor for her sake, Yu Qing’s heart long as still as an ancient well suddenly trembled violently.

She couldn’t describe the feeling. Her chest ached and burned, and the old wound where her meridian had been torn out throbbed faintly.

This shouldn’t be happening!

The girl was just like any other human—a fleeting presence in her endless life. So why had she fixed so much attention on her?

Yu Qing felt flustered. For the first time in centuries, the all-knowing Imperial Preceptor was afraid to face the girl.

Fortunately, the girl didn’t want to see her either during this time. Yu Qing overheard her muttering to herself when alone: “I don’t want A-Yan to see me looking ugly when I’m sick.”

Yu Qing wanted to tell her that she wasn’t ugly at all when ill, not even a little. But for some reason, she never appeared before the girl. Instead, she slipped into her room at night, feeding her drops of her own blood.

The blood of a celestial being could nourish the heart and meridians, imbuing the girl with Yu Qing’s aura enough to make even the fiercest beasts wary.

Watching the girl recover bit by bit, gradually carrying her scent, Yu Qing felt a secret delight bloom in her chest.

But then, Yu Chuan arrived.

Yu Chuan was the eldest son of the old city lord of Tu City. The lord had always doted on the youngest son born of his favorite concubine, neglecting this eldest heir. Yet Yu Qing knew this eldest son was cunning, a master of both strategy and martial prowess, the one most likely to lead Tu City to prosperity.

Yu Chuan had come to request Yu Qing’s return.

The old lord was on his deathbed, and Yu Chuan wanted Yu Qing to preside over the funeral rites.

Though Yu Qing had promised to protect the city lord’s lineage, she never interfered in the infighting among his descendants. Her loyalty lay solely with whoever sat upon the lord’s seat.

Yu Qing didn’t want to return. Worse, she disliked the way Yu Chuan looked at Luo Zhi. The girl had spent most of her life secluded in the inner courtyard, rarely meeting men. And Yu Chuan was, by human standards, a dragon among men. Yu Qing feared those beautiful eyes would no longer linger on her.

So, right in front of Luo Zhi, she deliberately steered the conversation with Yu Chuan toward topics the girl wouldn’t understand. She knew full well the girl loved storybooks and painting landscapes, insects, and fish but she refused to let the discussion drift even slightly in that direction.

So, when she noticed Luo Zhi’s eyes turning red, Yu Qing was stunned.

She had never imagined she would make the girl cry, much less that she would become the person who made the girl shed the most tears in her lifetime.

“It’s just a childish temper!” Yu Qing lied to herself. “She’s always been like this…”

The girl had never learned to hide her emotions, but a little coaxing was all it took to cheer her up.

The medicine the girl had to take was too bitter, and she often cried while drinking it. But just one piece of candied fruit was enough to soothe her.

Yu Qing watched the girl’s retreating figure from afar.

She felt she ought to apologize. She couldn’t bear to see the girl upset. Yet, Yu Qing hesitated for a long time, unsure how to begin. After all, the High Priestess was accustomed to her lofty status and had never learned to humble herself to please another.

So, knowing the girl had been practicing calligraphy lately, Yu Qing secretly returned to her own residence and placed all the authentic masterpieces she had collected over the years in the girl’s study.

She didn’t quite understand her own motives, but she even slipped an obscure love poem among the calligraphy.

“My handwriting is better than anyone else’s!” Yu Qing told herself. “I just want her to practice with the best examples.”

The girl was careless and didn’t notice the sudden appearance of the new calligraphy models.

“The High Priestess seems quite fond of this girl,” Yu Chuan remarked, his fan fluttering lightly. Despite Yu Qing’s efforts to conceal it, her concern for the girl had not escaped his notice.

He chuckled. “I always thought the High Priestess, with her endless lifespan, was beyond mortal emotions that humans were to her as mayflies to an ancient tree, that she was truly enlightened and detached. But it seems I was mistaken.”

Though Yu Chuan’s words seemed casual, they struck Yu Qing like a sharp blow. Compared to her own cold, solitary existence, the girl’s life was fleeting yet dazzling. If she grew accustomed to basking in that brilliance, would she ever be able to return to her lonely, quiet life?

Yu Qing refused to admit she was afraid, afraid the girl would regret it. She had hidden too much from her:

She was too aloof, too indifferent to life, utterly unlike the girl, who burned like a flame. The girl had always wanted Yu Qing to stay with her until their hair turned white. Her fervent wish shining in those beautiful eyes. But Yu Qing, born a spirit, would never grow old.

These bittersweet days felt like a stolen dream. For the first time, Yu Qing, like an ordinary human, had someone who warmed her heart at the mere thought of her. She had someone to cherish and worry over. Never before had she wished so desperately for time to slow its relentless march.

Yet the day the dream ended arrived all too soon.

The situation in Tu City grew urgent, and Yu Chuan produced the White Jade Token.

Few knew that after the city lord had saved Yu Qing all those years ago, she had not only vowed to protect his descendants for a thousand years but also promised to fulfill three requests for his bloodline.

The White Jade Token represented Yu Qing’s oath.

Over the long millennium, she had already completed two of the tasks. Only one remained.

Yu Chuan demanded that Yu Qing establish a new city in the desert of Tu City. His ambitions stretched beyond conquering Tu City; he sought to expand its territory.

Yu Qing understood the underlying implication in Yu Chuan’s words: Yu Chuan, whose meridians had been severed, no longer possessed the ability to nourish the oasis. Now that the thousand-year deadline had arrived, Yu Qing was about to leave the City Lord’s residence. Naturally, the City Lord’s lineage was unwilling to let their protective talisman depart, so they presented an impossible demand. This way, to fulfill her promise, Yu Qing would inevitably remain in Tu City.

Unfortunately, Yu Qing now knew the whereabouts of her lost meridians. Once reconnected, she would undergo a transformation into a deity within as little as one or two years, or at most a decade.

Divine beings typically transcend the three realms, never to return thereafter.