“Mom let me go call Bing Mei’ren. It’s not often I get the chance to tease her about being late.” Jiu Xian said with soft smile.
Memories surfaced—
Bing Mei’ren had always been the early bird.
If he overslept, she would knock on his window and laugh at him through the glass while he scrambled to get dressed.
And that... happened far too often.
Letting go of his morther’s finger, he ran toward the house next door.
The house was old, its wooden walls worn by time, patches of the roof clearly repaired more than once. Yet despite its age, it gave off a warm, lived-in feeling — the kind of place where light always seemed softer.
Jiu Xian and Bei Mei’ren had been neighbours for ever since he could remember.
But unlike him, her house carried sorrow.
Her parents had disappeared years ago without explaination, leaving her alone far too early. Jiu Xian’s family had tried to take her in, offering her a place under their roof countless times.
But she always refused.
Not coldly.
Not angrily.
Just... gently.
Jiu Xian quietly slipped into her room.
Bing Mei’ren lay sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, a book resting over her face as though she had lost a battle against sleep mid-sentence.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Carefully, he lifted the book away and set it aside. Then, with exaggerated caution, he reached out and lightly poked her nose.
She scrunched her face, rubbing her nose in annoyance — but didn’t wake.
He did it again.
And again.
Finally—
~Blink… blink~
Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then settling on him.
She just stared.
No groggy complaint.
No sarcastic remark.
No playful insult about him waking her up for once.
Just… staring.
“Hurry up and get ready,” Jiu Xian said, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. “Or we’ll miss the Four Arts Sect assessment. I’ll wait outside, my sleeping princess.”
Normally she would have snapped back.
Instead, she simply nodded.
Silently.
Indifferently.
Something in Jiu Xian’s chest tightened.
He retreated outside.
Thirty minutes later, she stepped outside.
Jiu Xian froze.
She was wearing loose pink pants and a flowery robe.
Pink.
Bing Mei’ren hated pink.
She one said it made her look like a ‘walking peach bun’.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
He looked at her face.
And the world titled.
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Her eyes—
They were black.
They should have been deep, clear blue.
Her hair, which had always been jet black, now faded to white at the ends like frost creeping over winter grass.
His breathing grew shallow.
He remembered clearly.
Blue eyes.
Black hair.
That memory wasn’t vague.
It was sharp.
“What’s wrong, Xian’er?” his mother asked gently.
“You… don’t see anything strange about Mei’ren?” he asked.
His mother looked at the girl.
Smiled.
“She looks adorable as always.”
Jiu Xian forced a weak laugh. “Maybe I didn’t sleep enough…”
But inside—
His mind was racing.
Memories.
Reality.
Mismatch.
His mother led the two children along the dirt road toward the sect’s outer gates.
Morning mist still clung to the fields, dew glistening on the grass. Farmers passed by with baskets, carts creaked, and life moved on as if nothing in the world was wrong.
But something was wrong.
Jiu Xian walked beside Bing Mei’ren in silence, his expression calm.
Inside, his thoughts churned.
He needed to test her.
Casually — as though making conversation — he asked,
“Hey, do you remember the time we tried to steal Auntie Lin’s peaches and got chased by her dog?”
Mei’ren snorted. “You mean the time you tripped and fell into the irrigation ditch while I escaped?”
Correct.
“Then what did you say when I asked you to pull me out?”
“I said, ‘True heroes retreat to fight another day.’ Then I cried because the water smelled bad.”
Correct again.
Jiu Xian felt a chill.
He kept going.
“What about the night you were ill?”
Her expression softened slightly. “You took care of me, staying by my side the whole night.”
Every answer matched his memory perfectly.
Too perfectly.
Yet…
He still couldn’t shake off the feeling—
There was something wrong.
As they continued walking, Mei’ren suddenly pointed toward the distant mountains.
“The Four Arts Sect was founded three thousand years ago by Master Yunhe. They specialize in auxiliary cultivation arts. Their core inheritance revolves around pill refinement, spirit forging, formations, and celestial calculations. The entrance exam today will test be a simple test of talent.”
Jiu Xian blinked.
His mother, walking ahead, turned slightly. “Four Arts Sect… I only know it’s a good sect for learning skills. I heard they make tools for immortals.”
Mei’ren kept talking.
“They also possess a minor branch of soul techniques. Though not widely known, their internal disciples practice mental stabilization methods. That’s why they’re able to maintain low deviation rates.”
Jiu Xian’s steps slowed.
She was speaking like a sect elder.
This was knowledge no village child should have.
Not even his parents.
Not even traveling merchants.
He glanced sideways at her.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Mei’ren,” he said carefully, “how do you know all that?”
She tilted her head.
“…Know what?”
Her eyes were clear.
Innocent.
Blank.
Jiu Xian’s spine went cold.
Because he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
He had not imagined her saying those words.
...
Yao Qing and Ao Tian arrived at their destination with their families — a towering mountain wrapped in pale, drifting mist. Ancient trees with thick trunks surrounded the base, their branches interwoven like a living wall.
At the foot of the mountain stood a majestic stone gate, carved with flowing patterns that seemed almost alive.
When looked at directly, the lines appeared still. But from the corner of the eye, they seemed to shift.
Two middle-aged cultivators in identical sect robes stood beneath the gate, hands folded neatly behind their backs.
Smiling.
“Welcome to the Four Arts Sect,” one of them said. His voice was warm. Too smooth. “You and the boy may proceed inside and follow the mountain trail. The outer sect elders await to test you. Your parents must return home. They may come back tomorrow.”
“Yes, respected immortal,” Yao Qing and Ao Tian replied.
They turned and bowed to their parents.
And then—
Their parents left.
Without lingering.
Without looking back.
Yao Qing’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
That… wasn’t normal.
Still, she said nothing and began walking up the mountain trail.
Yao Qing couldn’t shake the feeling.
On paper, Ao Tian was the same boy from her memories.
Same face.
Same voice.
Same habits.
Yet something in her chest remained unsettled.
Her instincts whispered:
This is wrong.
Not just him.
The sect.
The mountain.
This world.
“Hey,” Ao Tian said, nudging her lightly. “Where did you get lost? We’ve reached the arena.”
His voice pulled her back.
The arena was vast. Lines of children stretched across the stone courtyard, each supervised by a cultivator from the Four Arts Sect. Some kids chatted excitedly. Others trembled. Some stared ahead blankly.
Yao Qing grabbed Ao Tian’s sleeve and joined a line at random.
Her eyes scanned the crowd.
Jiu Xian.
Granny.
Nothing.
Only strangers.
“Next two,” the elder overseeing their line called lazily.
They stepped forward.
The elder handed each of them a white crystal stone.
“Hold it. Close your eyes. Focus.”
Yao Qing obeyed.
The moment her mind settled—
Something inside her surged.
A current flowed from her body into the stone.
The elder straightened slightly.
The crystal glowed brown.
Then blue.
Then purple.
Finally — bright green.
His bored expression disappeared.
“Earth Grade spiritual root. You are fated to cultivate. Take a token and wait over there.”
Yao Qing opened her eyes calmly. Granny had already told her.
She exhaled, then turned toward Ao Tian.
He stood rigid.
Knuckles white.
The stone in his hand remained dull.
“...No response,” the elder sighed. “No fate with immortality. Return the stone.”
Ao Tian’s jaw tightened.
“Let me try again.”
The elder frowned.
Yao Qing stepped forward, bowing politely.
“Respected immortal, please. Just once more.”
Her voice was soft. Earnest.
The elder hesitated, then relented — more for her than the boy.
Ao Tian closed his eyes again.
This time—
The stone flickered.
A faint, muddy brown glow.
The elder’s expression fell.
“Low-grade root. Barely qualifies.”
His tone cooled.
“You will progress slowly. Painfully. You will consume resources with little return. Are you sure?”
Ao Tian lifted his chin.
“I will never back down.”
The elder studied him a moment longer.
Then waved dismissively.
“Fine. Menial disciple.”
...
Jiu Xian’s turn had gone smoothly.
The crystal stone in his hands had glowed green — steady, stable.
“Earth-grade root. Qualified.”
He stepped aside quietly.
This part matched Granny’s words.
That gave him comfort.
Until—
“Next.”
Bing Mei’ren stepped forward.
Jiu Xian watched absentmindedly at first.
Then—
The moment her fingers touched the stone—
HISSSSSSS—
The crystal screamed.
Not glowed.
Screamed.
Light burst from it in violent pulses.
Brown.
Blue.
Purple.
Green.
White—
The elder’s jaw dropped.
Then—
GOLD.
Blinding.
Radiant.
Sacred.
The light swallowed the crystal whole.
Then—
CRACK.
The stone turned to dust in her hands.
Silence swallowed the arena.
Then—
The elder exploded with laughter.
“HAHAHAHA! The Heavens have finally shown mercy to the Four Arts Sect!”
“An Earth-grade… and now a SUPREME GRADE ROOT?!”
Children stared in envy.
Elders rushed forward.
Even the air seemed to tremble.
But Jiu Xian felt cold.
Ice in his veins.
His mind replayed the past.
The wedding.
The immortal fairy.
Her words:
“This girl has Heaven-grade roots.”
He remembered clearly.
Heaven grade.
Not Supreme.
Heaven.
His breathing grew shallow.
This… wasn’t a mistake.
This wasn’t luck.
This wasn’t change.
This was—
A different world.
A different version of her.
This Bing Mei’ren…
Was not the girl he grew up with.
Fear crawled into his bones.
If she was different…
What else was?
His fists clenched.
His heart pounded.
‘Find Qing’er.’
‘Find Granny.’
Those were his anchors.
His reality.
Without them—
He didn’t know which world he stood in.
