My Husband’s Ascension C75
Chapter 75 Extra 3
Their cultivator mistress from the immortal mountains had remained at the Xie Residence for five days.
During those days, aside from keeping company with the two elders, she had spent her time wandering the grounds or traveling with her husband, a man of refined bearing and elegant beauty.
“…I hear she’s revisiting old haunts with her husband. Such a devoted pair,” one of the servants chopping firewood remarked with a sigh.
“Word has it that her husband actually married into our family—his name is Xie Lanshu. That makes him a zhuì-xù, no? Now he’s also cultivating immortality, becoming a Dao Lord no less…and he has a wife as beautiful as our mistress. Tch, what extraordinary luck…”
(TLN: 赘婿 (zhuì xù) is a son-in-law living at wife's parent's house.)
The servants remarked on with open envy.
To ordinary folk, cultivation to immortality was a dream lofty and unreachable.
“The mistress has returned. The maids say she wishes for Longjing prawns for tonight’s supper,” a servant announced.
(TLN: Longjing prawns is a Hangzhou specialty made with tender river prawns quickly fried, then stir-fried with Longjing tea, tea leaves, and Shaoxing wine. The dish is known for its elegant white-and-green appearance and light, fragrant flavor, and is said to have originated during the Qing dynasty.)
“Got it!” Zhang Da, who had been chopping wood, set down his axe, washed his hands at the well, and prepared himself to cook.
Suddenly, a small expressionless boy appeared at the edge of the kitchen.
Startled, Zhang Da exclaimed, “Kid, you scared me!”
“Where is…Immortal Mountain? How does one reach it? Do you know?” He fixed Zhang Da with a steady gaze, his tone entirely unlike the silent, downtrodden little fool from before.
Zhang Da paused.
“…How would I know? I haven’t cultivated immortality!” He found the child odd, though he could not say exactly why. He replied offhandedly, “The elder’s niece and nephew-in-law are cultivators. If you’re that curious, just secretly follow them when they go and see for yourself.”
As hot oil hit the wok, tendrils of white steam rose.
Zhang Da suddenly remembered the boy’s unusual strength and hastily corrected, “I’m just pullin’ your leg, you shouldn’t actually—”
“Longjing prawns…how is it made?” The boy abruptly changed the subject. His small hands, scarred with countless little marks, rested on the edge of the stove as he asked earnestly, “Teach me. I’ll help you cook.”
"..." What a bizarre little fool.
…
The next morning, Uncle and Auntie Xie escorted Zhao Zhao to the gates of the Xie Residence.
Zhao Zhao realized that this parting might well be their final one in this lifetime, and a twinge of melancholy tugged at her heart. Yet her mortal relatives bore it with far greater equanimity.
“It is because of your pills that your uncle and I have lived so much more completely than others. Even so, no life is without regret—you too will face them.” Auntie Xie began, her aged hand brushing lightly over Zhao Zhao’s stray hair. “Life is about carrying those regrets and moving forward, Zhao Zhao.”
Zhao Zhao’s gaze flickered; for a brief moment, she almost felt her Auntie Xie had already seen through it, that the Xiao Bai before them was not the real Xie Lanshu.
In the end, neither spoke of it.
Before leaving, Zhao Zhao scanned the gathering but did not see the little boy from that day.
In truth, wherever she traveled, she often encountered children like him, those who longed to enter the immortal sects and pursue the path of cultivation.
Had Cloudculm Abode remained the small sect it once was, one whose disciples could be counted on a single hand, she might have brought the boy back without a second thought.
But now, it had grown into a great sect that admitted disciples in grand examinations every three years.
Unless he were a prodigy of rare talent, casually taking him in would be unfair to those children who had traveled countless kilometers to sit for the trials.
Zhao Zhao sighed softly in her heart.
The group settled into the carriage for the journey home.
Xiao Bai, once restored to his true appearance, exhaled in relief, his fingers coquettishly tugging and twisting at the hem of Zhao Zhao’s robe. “These past days of acting have exhausted this humble servant. How does master intend to reward this servant upon our return?”
Li Feng shot him a glare. “Weren’t you overjoyed just to sleep in the same room as Xie Tanzhao? Quit pretending, you look ridiculous.”
“That’s another matter,” Xiao Bai replied with a soft huff.
Besides, he had been sleeping on the floor all along, never touching even a corner of her robes!
Seizing the rare opportunity to be near Zhao Zhao as himself, Xiao Bai edged a little closer. From the rear lattice of the carriage, his gaze happened to catch a small, gray figure following them.
Small, yet astonishingly fast, far from a frail child.
It was the little boy who had brought the bathwater that night.
“What is it?”
Seeing Xiao Bai’s peculiar gaze fixed behind them, Zhao Zhao was about to turn as well, but his sudden, exaggerated display of grievance interrupted her.
“Ow! My hand hurts so much!” Xiao Bai looked at her with the most pitiful expression imaginable. “These past few days I’ve been massaging and kneading the shoulders of your uncle and auntie. My hands are sore, I can hardly lift them. Only master’s treatment will make them well again.”
Li Feng’s eyes nearly rolled to the ceiling. No man of human sensibilities could pull off such a look.
Yet Zhao Zhao, ever soft-hearted, could not resist. These past days, Xiao Bai had been bustling about—cheering up her uncle and auntie, running errands, sleeping on the floor at night—truly far more effort than those who spent their time indulging in leisure.
Without a second thought, she let a trace of her spiritual power flow into him, easing the aches in his hands.
From the corner of his eye, Xiao Bai glimpsed the small boy chasing after their carriage.
It was unclear where such strength came from, yet the boy, no more than eight years old, had actually kept pace with the moving carriage. Though some distance remained, his momentum suggested he intended to run all the way to Cloudculm Abode without stopping.
But alas—
As the carriage rolled into the outskirts, Zhao Zhao quietly wove her spiritual power, lifting the entire carriage into the air.
You’re out of luck now.
Xiao Bai, propping his chin with one hand, curved his lips into a small smile. While his method was hardly honorable, it was not entirely without reason. Last time, it had been the boy’s own failure to draw the Single Intent Sword that barred him from entering Cloudculm Abode; no amount of clinging or pleading would grant entry.
If the little boy truly possessed such resolve, he would find his way to their sect on his own, sooner or later.
With that thought, Xiao Bai withdrew his gaze without the slightest guilt.
On the ground, the mortal boy, incapable of riding the winds or soaring through the skies, could only watch as the carriage vanished into the heavens.
The firmament above seemed impossibly distant.
Yet to him, it appeared almost within reach, like a goddess descending from the Ninth Heaven, effortless and untouchable by him.
The little boy stood there for a long while, until nightfall blanketed the land, before trudging back to the Xie Residence.
Zhang Da had spent the entire day searching, anxiously pacing about, and seeing the little boy return silently on his own, he could scarcely contain his frustration, almost enough to give the kid a good beating.
“Where’d you go?”
“…”
“You wanted to follow the mistress, didn’t you? You didn’t catch up, did you?” Just as Zhang Da had begun to think the boy had grown a brain, he realized once again that the child was still a little fool.
He ought to reflect on himself: a nameless child picked up by the Xie Residence, fortunate just to be fed, and yet he still harbored such wild dreams of cultivation.
Fuming, Zhang Da slammed a bowl down in front of him. “Eat!”
The boy, dazed and forlorn, slowly lifted his head. His features were plain, yet those eyes, clear and glass-like, carried an otherworldly quality that marked him apart from mortals.
“Quit staring! Eat your fill. Once you’ve eaten, I’ll find a way to bring you before the elders, and we’ll see if they’ll let you pursue that so-called immortal path!”
Though they were all a part of the Xie Residence, the elderly couple were not just anyone a servant could meet at will.
“It’s all right.” Squatting beside the dishes, the little boy lowered his gaze as Zhang Da ran out of ideas. “I will find a way myself.”
“You? What can a child your age possibly think of?”
Zhang Da frowned in disbelief, but the boy reached into his chest and produced several pieces of silver sycee fragments, holding them out for Zhang Da to see.
“Where’d you get this money from?”
“The son of the tofu stall at the street corner was beaten by the eldest son of the winehouse across the street. I went and fought back for him. This is his reward,” the boy explained.
Zhang Da’s eyes went wide. The eldest son of that winehouse was at least seven years older than him!
“Worry not,” the boy added, noticing Zhang Da’s concern, as he continued washing dishes. “I can handle them.”
“I’m not worried about you,” Zhang Da said sharply. “I’m afraid you little fool might bring trouble to the Xie Residence!"
The boy shot him a glance. “I’m no little fool.”
It was the first time he had ever protested that name. Zhang Da grinned. “Then what is your name?”
The boy spoke slowly, the name he had chosen for himself. “…Xie Zhu (谢逐).”
The ‘Zhu’ from ‘chasing clouds, pursuing (the) moon (追云逐月)’.
…
Zhang Da’s concerns regarding Xie Zhu had indeed been unnecessary.
For he quickly discovered that the boy possessed an astonishing talent in combat.
At first, fighting barehanded, he would occasionally end up with bruises or scratches. But then, seemingly from nowhere, he had acquired a straight fire iron. Zhang Da’s concern shifted swiftly, from fearing the boy would be beaten to death to fearing the boy might beat someone else to death.
“…So whose child’s New Year money did you earn today?”
Two years passed in the blink of an eye.
At nine, Xie Zhu had grown tall and strong, sprouting upward like a bamboo shoot soaked in spring rain. His old robes no longer fit comfortably, yet he showed no intention of having new clothes made.
Not only his garments, but in all things, he held himself to strict standards. The Xie Residence provided for his daily needs, yet he never spent a coin unnecessarily on himself.
“The county magistrate’s son lost a cricket fight and wants me to teach the clothes store boss’s boy a lesson,” he replied.
Zhang Da, scrubbing pots in the kitchen, asked casually, “And did you?”
“No,” Xie Zhu replied, “the clothes store boss’s son offered me ten times the money to get back at him, so I took his order instead.”
Zhang Da froze mid-motion, glancing up at the boy entering the kitchen.
It might have been his imagination, yet Xie Zhu seemed to have changed considerably as he grew older.
His once unremarkable features seemed to have slowly melted away, revealing a truer Xie Zhu beneath. His bearing grew increasingly otherworldly and refined; at a glance, he looked like some noble young master from a wealthy household, not a kitchen laborer doing menial work.
“And these scars on your face… how did you get them?”
The boy curved his lips in a gentle smile.
Unlike the wooden, dull expression he had worn years ago, Xie Zhu had begun to smile more often in recent years. The icy, sculpted elegance of his features softened with warmth, like a gentle spring breeze, concealing entirely the fierce edge he displayed in combat.
“The servants of the magistrate’s household gave them to me. If I had struck back, it would have caused trouble for our estate,” he replied.
Zhang Da’s eyes darkened slightly with a complex mix of emotions.
He then noticed the paper, brushes, and small jars of pigment in Xie Zhu’s hands.
Though he would never spend on himself for pleasure, painting was the one indulgence he allowed. Zhang Da had never seen what he created, but it was not unusual for a child to have a hobby of his own.
“Remember to apply medicine when you get back.”
Xie Zhu nodded and returned to the small firewood room he usually slept in.
The room was not overly large. Beyond the stacks of wood lay a narrow door; pushing open the usually locked door revealed the little chamber he called his own.
He unlocked it and lit a tiny oil lamp in the pitch-dark, windowless space.
The candlelight illuminated the room and cast a soft glow on the walls, which were covered with countless portraits of a single beautiful woman.
From the earliest, clumsy attempts to the final strokes rendered with exquisite precision, each depiction bore the same face.
Xie Zhu feared he might forget her features. For two whole years, he had not dared to pause even for a day, tirelessly sketching her likeness until the portraits captured seventy to eighty percent of the memory he held. Only then did he allow himself a measure of relief.
He lifted his hand, letting his fingers brush lightly over the eyes and brows of the woman in the drawings.
Just a little longer.
Just a little more patience.
Soon, he would have enough saved to go see her in person.
Author’s Note: He’ll be all grown up next chapter~
