Xing Shuishui couldn’t suppress her shock. Using living people to cultivate poison worms – did they not fear divine punishment? When Shangguan Houyue used the people of Luodan Kingdom to cultivate Luoyu flowers, Lingshan quickly discovered it. Yet Guan Wushan had been cultivating blood worms for years without any rumors. If she hadn’t come to Cangchuan searching for a cure for her sister, she wouldn’t have stumbled upon his plot. What was Guan Wushan planning?
Her breathing quickened.
He Liansheng gripped her pale hand.
Xing Shuishui’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. Like scattered petals falling, infusing snow with fragrance.
The young man’s arm pressed against hers, transmitting warmth. She gazed at his beautiful fingers, suddenly loving how He Liansheng held her hand – so warm and strong, as if saying: these sword-wielding hands can kill, but they can also protect you.
Xing Shuishui’s lips curved into a smile.
Just then, He Liansheng looked at her, their eyes meeting. His expression playful: “Stop thinking. You’re just a dying person. Isn’t it unlucky to think too much?”
He squeezed her hand, his sleeve brushing against Xing Shuishui’s wrist, slightly ticklish.
Before she could react, He Liansheng pulled her into a restaurant. Evening was falling, just in time for dinner. Having just survived an avalanche and fever, she was inevitably hungry, her attention quickly drawn to food. They could rush back overnight anyway. Guan Wushan’s matter could wait until they left Cangchuan. He couldn’t escape anyway.
Xing Shuishui stepped into the restaurant. Cangchuan rarely had restaurants serving Central Plains cuisine – mung bean cakes, sweet and sour fish, even preserved meat. After ordering three dishes and soup, she spotted something interesting and pointed: “I want this too.”
There was a dessert called: Three Seven Two.
She had eaten many desserts but never this oddly named “Three Seven Two.”
The shopkeeper, clearly not a local, smiled: “Coming right up. Miss has good taste. This is our signature dish.”
Though remote, Cangchuan attracted many Central Plains people – hunters, wanderers. Many cultivators came seeking opportunities. Business was thriving.
Xing Shuishui propped her chin up, asking He Liansheng: “Three Seven Two, what a strange name. Have you heard of this dessert?”
He Liansheng crossed his arms, speaking flatly: “I don’t eat desserts.”
Xing Shuishui looked at him: “Will you try some?”
“I won’t fight you for it.”
“Then — will you eat if I feed you?”
“Yes.”
He Liansheng held his sword, meeting her gaze, his pupils black, wearing a “don’t you dare trick me” expression. The surrounding air grew cold, affecting passersby.
Xing Shuishui’s smile froze, nearly blurting out: I was just joking.
She forced a smile: “He Liansheng, isn’t this… improper?”
He Liansheng scanned the restaurant, sneering: “With Taoyuan sword here, let’s see who dares say it’s improper.”
Xing Shuishui thought, next time she must watch her words carefully.
Before the dessert arrived, dishes came first – a plate of sashimi. The fresh fish was sliced paper-thin, uncooked, transparent in candlelight, with raw onions, peanuts, minced garlic, and sauce. Xing Shuishui rolled up her sleeves, standing to mix them together, when she saw He Liansheng’s fingertip ignite with spiritual fire.
She startled, quickly covering his hand to extinguish it, looking around thankfully seeing no one noticed.
He Liansheng: “You eat it raw?”
Xing Shuishui: “That’s how it’s meant to be eaten.”
The young man looked skeptical.
Seeing his disbelief, Xing Shuishui picked up a piece and placed it in his bowl. He Liansheng looked at the chopsticks’ owner.
She smiled at him: “Try it?”
The fish was tender, the seasonings salty – an unforgettable taste.
He Liansheng rarely ate anything besides fasting pills. Years of cultivation left him with little desire for food, but perhaps because Xing Shuishui served it, he suddenly craved this taste.
Xing Shuishui tilted her head asking: “Is it good?”
He answered: “It’s good.”
Finally not saying fasting pills taste good!
Just as they were finishing, the dessert finally arrived.
Xing Shuishui, oil still at her lips, burst out laughing when she saw this “Three Seven Two” pastry.
How could a dessert be so ugly!
It was lumpy and misshapen, looking neither here nor there, unclear what shape it was meant to be. Rather than a dessert, it looked like a failed attempt – ink-black in color, surface cracked, with flower-flavored filling seeping out, completely unappetizing.
Other signature desserts were always elegant, either flowery or moon-rabbit shaped, but was this “Three Seven Two” serious? She wasn’t the only one confused.
“Is this edible? I’m afraid it might poison me!”
“Shopkeeper! Did you bring the wrong thing? What is this? Is this really your signature dish? Refund!”
The protests grew loud. The kitchen door opened, and a young man walked out, covered in dust, flour on his fingers, apparently having been kneading dough.
“Please calm down! This is exactly how our signature dish looks! Though unsightly, if you taste it calmly, it’s heavenly. This dessert was actually learned from a cultivator who saved our family’s lives!”
Hearing there was a story behind it, people gathered to listen.
The young man smiled, sharing this oft-told tale once again with passing travelers. On a sleepless snowy night, guests had stayed here.
He Liansheng suddenly said the air inside was stuffy and went out to stand for a while. Xing Shuishui didn’t think much of it, nodding and continuing to listen to the young man’s tale of Cangchuan’s past.
Our family originally came from the Central Plains, fleeing corvée labor to Cangchuan. We opened this restaurant with our remaining savings, but we only knew Central Plains cuisine. Initially deep in debt, life was very difficult, nearly forcing us to close.
Until three years ago, a young cultivator came. White-robed with black hair, wearing a vermillion headband, very powerful – clearly a sect prodigy. He was our only customer. Such people usually don’t eat mortal food.
My father was puzzled why he came here.
The youth said he came to Cangchuan searching for someone. He met her years ago and accidentally fell in love. At eighteen, not wanting her to leave, he forcibly brought her home, thinking they could be together that way.
But external pressures came before familiarity could breed affection. His master and family disliked her, and she seemed worried every day. Later they were forced apart, and he reflected deeply.
These years apart weren’t just spent searching for her.
He wanted to understand her better.
For example: he remembered she loved desserts.
When she was there, he didn’t understand what was so good about desserts.
After she left, he wanted to taste desserts to know their flavor.
That way, even if he never found her again, he’d feel a bit better.
Meeting was fate, perhaps reuniting would be fate too.
He didn’t want to live dejectedly, but to live well, otherwise she’d be scared away.
That girl was timid, disliking fierce men.
My father was moved to tears then, using all his skill to make many desserts. The youth was generous, asking if father could teach him to make desserts. Father taught him the simplest kind, telling him he could try shaping it as he liked, adding fillings he enjoyed.
The snow fell heavily that year.
The youth sat under the eaves shaping for a long time, snow caught in his brows and hair, flour on his hands. My father finished his work and went over.
“What are you making?”
“Peach blossoms.”
“This doesn’t look like peach blossoms.”
“It will after more practice.”
“Why insist on making them?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Snow fell gently. Thought there’d be no answer.
My father turned to leave, one step, two steps, three steps.
The youth suddenly said: “I miss her.”
An unexpected answer. My father crouched down, staring at the dough in his hands.
“Will you call it peach blossom pastry?”
“No, call it Three Seven Two.”
“Must have special meaning.”
The youth didn’t answer.
Three Seven Two. Xing Shuishui suddenly understood these three characters. The hint was already in that notebook in He Liansheng’s drawer.
“Year three thousand seven hundred and twenty of the Jieyuan era. I went down the mountain to catch demons. Met Water (T/N: Shui).”
Three Seven Two.
Three thousand seven hundred and twenty years.
So that’s what it meant.
So that’s what it meant all along.
Though he tried for long, the dough was still too ugly. The youth himself disliked it, saying to throw it away, then left the restaurant. We never saw him again. My father felt it would be wasteful to throw away – ugly doesn’t mean inedible – so he fried it and tried a bite.
Unexpectedly with that taste.
It became our restaurant’s signature dish.
The young man stopped speaking. Many tried a bite skeptically, then praised endlessly. “It’s true! The lingering flavor, better than imperial pastries!” “Such flavor exists in this world!”
They were all amazed by the dessert’s taste. Only Xing Shuishui stared hard at the pastry, tears falling uncontrollably, her features scrunching up.
She clutched her skirt and pushed open the window. The wind and snow outside swept away her tears, her cheeks stinging, lips pale.
She glimpsed the youth standing in the snow, figure lonely, back turned to her, white clothes stark against the night.
He Liansheng, being so clever, probably guessed everything upon hearing “Three Seven Two.”
Seeming to hear her open the window, the youth’s figure stiffened slightly. If he turned back now, the lamplight would illuminate her features most tenderly.
Xing Shuishui gripped the window edge, saying softly: “It’s so cold outside, let’s go back.”
He Liansheng seemed surprised by her reaction, turning to meet her gaze for a long while, eyelids drooping slightly, expression bland.
He said self-mockingly: “You… know everything?”
“I know everything.”
“Nothing else to say?”
“There is.”
Tears drifting, Xing Shuishui endured the pain.
“Back then I was worried not because being with you made me unhappy, but because I was concerned about my sister, and worried about you, He Liansheng. I feared you’d regret everything you did for me if you knew I was a demon. But I… didn’t realize you knew all along. I was too slow, should have known it wasn’t luck, but you rewriting the concealment talisman, telling me the mirror-opening incantation for the Float Spirit Mirror, wanting me safe and sound, wanting me happy and healthy. So what I want to say is, that day at the Heaven Offering Platform I never wanted to kill you – I was being controlled. Years ago to save my sister and clansmen, I exchanged Separation Fire with the Qitong Demon Blade, the price being control of my body. I know you don’t mind, but I still want you to understand — I care about you too.”
Saying this.
She suddenly raised her head, her tear-filled eyes sparkling.
“He Liansheng, the dessert is delicious, but I want you to make it yourself. Okay?”
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