Volume One: Scroll of Fresh Rain Chapter Nineteen: The World of Azure Lotus

The greatest beauty of time lies in its inevitable passage—spring blossoms, autumn moon, summer days, winter snow.

Seasons rush through the little town, one after another, and in the blink of an eye, it is early autumn two years later.

“The world of Azure Lotus, six realms divided, Buzhou at the center, like the bud of a flower, the trunk of a tree.”

“They say in ancient times, the world was divided only into Yin and Yang. Later, the Heavenly Emperor established the Immortal Realm, the Demon Ancestor the Demon Realm, Panlong the Beast Realm, and Shakyamuni the Buddhist Realm. Even earlier, there were three thousand great worlds and countless smaller ones.”

“Now, only six great realms remain: Immortal, Buddhist, Beast, Ghost, Divine, and Mortal. The rest, scattered across the Sea of Star Souls, are hard to find and harder still to see.”

Clear voices of reading, accompanied by the rasping calls of old cicadas in the trees, echoed by the Azure Brook. A white egret descended gracefully onto a stone in the stream, lifting its neck in a long cry, adding a touch of elegance to this early autumn scene.

Upon a flat, massive stone by the stream, beside an old tree, a young man in a blue robe leaned against the rock, holding a book and softly reciting.

“They say the Human Emperor made a pact for the protection of mortals, engraved upon the heavens and earth, forbidding gods from dwelling in the mortal world.”

“In the Mortal Realm, there is the human dynasty; in the east, the Sacred Land of Penglai; in the west, the Pure Land of the Buddhists; in the south, the wilds of the Beast Clan.”

At this passage, the boy paused, gazing at the gently flowing Azure Brook before him, his eyes filled with longing and awe.

“So the world is so vast. Even the Mortal Realm holds so many strange and wondrous landscapes, not to mention the boundless Sea of Star Souls and the towering, sprawling Buzhou Mountain that runs through all six realms.”

To know the greatness of the world is to understand how little one has seen.

Ye Mingke suddenly felt something move lightly on his leg. Looking down, he met the dreamy, sleep-laden eyes of a young girl.

The early autumn sunlight filtered through the thinning leaves of the old tree, casting dappled shadows across her figure.

The girl in white, with soft hair unbound, rested her head upon the boy’s lap, peacefully napping through the afternoon. Now waking from her slumber, her eyes still veiled in mist, she gazed up at him.

Two years had changed them greatly.

The girl, once slender as a willow, now blossomed into a graceful beauty; the boy, though still thin and delicate, had lost the roundness of youth, his features refined, his gaze strengthened by years of disciplined training.

Yet, in other ways, nothing had changed. They still seemed like the boy and girl who once ran through the town’s streets together.

“Awake?” Ye Mingke asked, lowering his head.

“I’ve been awake for a while. Listening to you read,” Bai Qiaoqiao answered, looking up at him.

“You’re just lazy,” Ye Mingke teased, brushing a lock of Qiaoqiao’s hair across her face. “Get up, sleepyhead. You’ve slept half the afternoon away.”

“Alright.” Qiaoqiao rubbed her eyes.

She sat up, strands of hair still clinging to her cheeks, hugging her knees as she sat beside Mingke. Though she’d slept a long while, there was lingering fatigue upon her face.

“Didn’t sleep well again last night?” Ye Mingke asked.

“Mmm.” Qiaoqiao nodded.

Her nightmares had grown more frequent these past years, often keeping her awake night after night. Only beside Mingke, as she’d been today, could she rest peacefully.

“Such a timid girl. When will you finally stop being scared and dreaming bad dreams?”

Ye Mingke patted her head, worried but helpless.

“But I’m still afraid.”

Qiaoqiao hugged her knees tighter, resting her chin upon them, gazing at the gently flowing Azure Brook.

“What are you afraid of? There’s nothing to fear. Look!”

Ye Mingke put down his book and gestured at the scene—the white egret by the stream, the warm afternoon sun, the old tree, and the massive stone.

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“This world is so beautiful, so tranquil. Why be afraid?”

“Because it’s all so beautiful, it feels like a dream,” Qiaoqiao replied, her voice light but her misty eyes tinged with sorrow.

“You little imp, I don’t understand what you’re thinking. Then why are you not afraid when you sleep beside me?” Ye Mingke propped his chin in his hand, watching her, half amused, half exasperated.

“Because…” Qiaoqiao’s cheeks flushed, but she gathered her courage. “Because only you, Mingke, don’t feel like a dream!”

“Hmm… wait, that doesn’t sound quite right. ‘Everything is beautiful like a dream,’ but only I don’t feel like a dream? Doesn’t that mean I’m not beautiful?”

Ye Mingke, with his peculiar train of thought, began counting logical connections on his fingers.

Hey, that’s not the point, is it?

Qiaoqiao, having finally summoned the courage to express her feelings, couldn’t help but roll her eyes inwardly.

“Where’s Tao Yao?”

Not wanting to continue the conversation, Qiaoqiao changed the subject.

“Shh.”

Ye Mingke pointed to the stream bank, and Qiaoqiao immediately understood. The two quietly crawled to the other side of the stone.

Beside the murmuring waters, a burly young man, his face smeared with clay, sat on a low rock, focused intently on the clay figure in his hands, his gaze gentle and absorbed.

It was Tao Yao, now stronger and taller than most grown men after two years.

Beside him were several clay figurines and animals, some painted, some not, all lively and adorable. But none compared to the one in his hands, still unformed, unbaked, and unpainted—a proud, long-haired girl.

“He’s spent the whole afternoon on that one—it’s Senior Yi Wan. Let’s not disturb him.”

Mingke smiled softly at Qiaoqiao, and the two tiptoed back to their previous spot.

“Tao Yao is actually quite remarkable. Even if he looks timid and silly,” Ye Mingke said with a smile. He meant to joke lightly about his friend, but suddenly a flood of thoughts overtook him.

“He never fights back when bullied, only because he doesn’t want his father to be angry, and he fears his own strength might hurt others. He’s stubbornly kind.”

“It’s only the kind-hearted who can grasp so much beauty. He’s loved the clay dolls made by the village potter since childhood. Now, I think his own are even better, because each one is his way of holding onto this beautiful world.”

“Tao Yao, just like Mingke, is a good and gentle soul.”

But I am not. Those who are kind see a beautiful world, while I often see one full of fear.

Qiaoqiao thought quietly to herself.

“Hah, not me. I’m not like him. If anyone dares bully me or my friends, I’ll make sure they regret it!” Ye Mingke laughed, recalling the fights he’d had for Tao Yao.

Their conversation faded. Mingke picked up the school textbook borrowed from Qiaoqiao and continued reading and memorizing.

Though the book offered only knowledge of physical sciences—not the martial arts and spiritual arts he was most curious about in the academy—he cherished it all the same.

Qiaoqiao sat quietly beside him, watching the autumn sky, the flowing stream, the yellow leaves falling from the old tree.

She remained a quiet girl.

The sunlight shifted, the afternoon waning.

Mingke hoped to finish reading during this rare holiday, returning home only after dark.

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Tao Yao greeted them briefly and left to fire his clay figures.

In the end, Mingke didn’t make it to nightfall. Qiaoqiao tapped his shoulder and pointed at the sky; he looked up to see dense clouds gathering overhead.

Rain was coming. It was only early autumn, and the town’s fickle summer weather lingered; the skies still changed quickly.

They rose and headed home. Mingke wanted to see Qiaoqiao safely home before returning himself, but she worried he’d be caught in the rain if he left too late, so they parted halfway and went their separate ways.

Thunder rumbled heavily on the horizon, and the wind carried the thick, damp scent of impending rain.

Ye Mingke did not hurry home; two years of training through wind and rain had made him fearless of storms. He only yielded to Qiaoqiao’s concern, which was why he hadn’t escorted her all the way.

He tied the black cloth over his eyes again, walking slowly through the thunder and wind before the rain. After two years, he had grown accustomed to and even fond of the world he sensed with the blindfold—an elusive realm normally hidden by sight.

Especially today, the sounds of thunder and wind reminded him of that rainy night two years ago, when he first felt the strange world that changed with his heartbeat and breath.

He walked the town’s streets, listening to the wind crowding through windows and doors, the earth shivering in response to thunder, the grass and trees quivering in anticipation of the storm.

Immersed in that other world, he couldn’t help but smile—until a shrill laugh shattered his perceptions and reverie.

“Haha, are you crazy or what!”

The sharp, grating voice blocked his path. Several footsteps followed, clearly more than one person.

“Hahaha, if you’re not crazy, why are you walking so slowly with a black cloth over your eyes when it’s about to rain?”

“Yeah, definitely crazy!”

“Absolutely crazy.”

More loud, mocking laughter echoed after the first.

Ye Mingke’s face turned cold. He stopped, feeling the malice and ridicule coming his way.

He knew who they were.

The first laugh belonged to Li Yin, the town bully who Mingke had once beaten up for bullying Tao Yao. Li Yin was the village head’s son, and said to be one of the academy’s favorite students.

The rest of the laughter came from his followers.

“Hey, crazy, what are you doing here?” One of Li Yin’s lackeys shouted.

“I’m training,” Ye Mingke replied coolly.

“Hahaha, training?!”

“You call this training?”

“Only those who didn’t get into the academy would do something so ridiculous!”

“Covering your eyes with a black cloth is training?”

They burst out laughing as if they’d heard the funniest joke, a few clutching their stomachs as if in pain.

Ye Mingke stood motionless, expressionless.

He wasn’t particularly angry, just annoyed—these people were foolish, sick.

He wasn’t a doctor, so he simply walked forward, intending to leave.

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