Yue Wu Huan put his heart and soul into crafting an exceptionally beautiful phoenix kite that stood as tall as a person, with wingspan as wide as two people. Ornamented with golden patterns and vibrant colors, it appeared lifelike. Equipped with a bamboo flute, it emitted melodious, bird-like sounds when the wind blew through it.
Song Qing Shi was overjoyed, scratching his head as he lavished praise, "Wu Huan, you're amazing. This kite is a hundred times better than the one I bought."
He smiled and said, "Master, the one you bought doesn't have a bamboo flute. Without it, it should be called a paper kite. With the flute, it makes sounds, so it's a true wind kite."
Song Qing Shi examined the beautiful paper kite he had purchased and exclaimed, "Indeed!"
Though he enjoyed colorful things, when comparing the kite Wu Huan made to the paper kite he bought, it was like comparing a phoenix to a sparrow—one soaring in the heavens, the other grounded. Even a blind man would know which was more beautiful. Just as he was about to discard the paper kite, he saw Rong Ye dutifully handing out students' medicinal assignments. On a whim, he gifted the paper kite to him, and Rong Ye seemed genuinely pleased.
Surely a child wouldn't mind playing with a paper kite instead of a wind kite?
He is a dignified Immortal Master, almost a thousand years old, and of course, he should play with the most beautiful, grand kite!
Song Qing Shi, brimming with enthusiasm, dragged Yue Wu Huan up to Xin Yi Mountain. He loved watching the changing clouds and was even more enamored with beautiful things flying through them—like birds or kites. As a child, he had secretly watched kids fly kites. One swallow-shaped kite had flown so high it nearly reached the clouds. The children were yelling and laughing; it had seemed incredibly fun.
Flying a kite is best done with two people: one to hold the kite and signal when the wind arrives, and the other to run, pulling the string.
For the sake of authenticity, Song Qing Shi refrained from installing any assisting spell formations on the kite and forbade all wind-manipulating or floating techniques. He wanted to fly the kite using the natural force of the wind, just as a mortal would. To achieve this, he analyzed the wind speed and direction on Xin Yi Mountain for the season, scientifically determining the optimal location for kite-flying. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he was eager to send the kite soaring high.
Both of them arrived at Xin Yi Mountain and placed the kite on a prepared, flat slope.
Song Qing Shi pulled a notebook from his satchel and earnestly reviewed the kite-flying instructions once again. According to the current wind conditions, he recalculated mathematical formulas to predict the kite's height and position, aiming to avoid any mishaps like the string getting tangled in trees.
Yue Wu Huan took a furtive glance at the notebook's content and couldn't help but laugh.
Flustered by Yue Wu Huan's chuckle, Song Qing Shi quickly reviewed his formulas twice to confirm whether he had made any errors in his calculations.
Once satisfied that the formulas were correct, he took his position, allowing Yue Wu Huan to hold the kite. He then started to run. The first attempt was too fast, causing the kite to tumble on the ground. However, the second try was successful. With Yue Wu Huan standing behind him, guiding his hands on how to reel and release the string, the kite ascended gradually and gracefully.
The beautiful phoenix kite rose steadily, its long golden-red tail feathers unfurling in the wind, piercing through the clouds and emitting a crisp, bird-like cry.
A splash of vibrant life appeared amidst the white clouds, erasing their prior blandness.
Watching the white clouds and the phoenix kite, Song Qing Shi felt his mind waver. The scene seemed strangely familiar—as if he had seen it countless times before yet could not quite remember the details. Some deeply ingrained sensations were stirring within him, struggling to break free from their chains...
A strange sensation oscillated in his mind, rising and falling, as if wrestling with itself.
Song Qing Shi felt a mild headache coming on, but his eyes remained glued to the phoenix among the clouds, stubbornly seeking an answer.
Suddenly, the kite's string snapped. The phoenix lost its balance, tumbled in the air, and began to plummet.
Yue Wu Huan looked at the broken string in his hand, slightly astonished. He hadn't expected such an error on his part.
Song Qing Shi dropped the reel and soared into the sky using his fire technique, chasing after the falling kite. Just before the kite could sink into the swamp below, he lunged forward and caught it. However, the kite was large, and part of the phoenix's tail feathers ended up muddied by the swamp.
Somberly, he flew back holding the tarnished kite and handed it to Yue Wu Huan, asking, "Was it my mistake in flying the kite that caused it to fail?"
"No," Yue Wu Huan closely inspected the broken string, "I had specially used durable silver wire to prevent this. The quality was verified during the winding process." He paused and then chuckled, holding up the string for Song Qing Shi to see, "Look, it was this little guy who's to blame."
A tiny golden ant was climbing on the silver wire, which showed signs of being gnawed by the ant, compromising its strength.
Golden ants were common creatures on Xin Yi Mountain. By coincidence, one had climbed onto the kite and bitten through the string, causing the kite to fall. Everything seemed so reasonable and coincidental...
Song Qing Shi was stunned, "So, it was all just a coincidence?"
"Let's head back for now," Yue Wu Huan comforted. "The pigments on this kite can't be washed off. I'll replace the soiled sections and use a more durable string later."
What are the odds of an ant severing the kite string?
One in a billion?
Suddenly, Song Qing Shi recalled the miraculous thunderstorm during Yue Wu Huan's foundation building. He also remembered Yue Wu Huan saying he had missed many chances to see Xie Que's true identity due to coincidences. He even thought of his first encounter with An Long, where a gust of wind blew his carefully harvested medicinal herbs into a foul-smelling swamp. It was only because of this he approached, holding his nose, and found a dying half-demon child buried inside.
Why did the System choose his soul fragment for missions? Why was he sent back?
Were all of these really coincidences?
Song Qing Shi paused, casting a doubtful glance at the sky. He had an unsettling feeling that he was forgetting something significant.
...
Yue Wu Huan went back to repair the kite.
Song Qing Shi felt restless, his mind preoccupied with the phoenix kite in the sky. Disinterested in conducting toxicity tests, he fed the lab mice and decided to take a walk outside. First, he visited the entrance of the school to seriously inspect the students' research. Then he leafed through a few books in the library and somehow found himself in front of the ancestral hall.
The hall had been recently renovated; it looked fresh and clean. Scrolls were hanging on the walls, and the altar was decorated with fresh fruits and flowers.
Although his master had accepted an unruly disciple, that disciple had found a well-behaved and understanding grand-disciple in return. It was indirect filial piety, of sorts.
Song Qing Shi remembered that he hadn't paid his respects to his late master in over a decade. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he went inside to offer three sticks of incense. Then, with permission from his late master, he grabbed a large, juicy peach from the offerings and ate it while appreciating the scrolls his master had left behind.
The peach selected by Yue Wu Huan was succulent, sweet, and delicious.
His master's artistic skills were terrible—just like his own. It was hard to tell what the drawing was supposed to represent.
Even if a thief broke into the hall, they wouldn't take this painting.
After some thought, Song Qing Shi decided he should remove the painting to preserve both the dignity of his master and the reputation of the Medicine King Valley. He feared that future disciples would lose respect for their ancestors when they saw such an ugly and nonsensical drawing.
He should replace it with some medical manuscripts from his master's heritage; they would be more fitting for offerings.
Song Qing Shi took down the painting and brought it back to the Fu Ling Palace, intending to store it in the treasure vault.
As the sky darkened, so did his mood.
He had given up hope on the System's missions, and there was no glimmer of a cure for Yue Wu Huan's illness. The only thing left to do was not to lose hope and to stand by his side, waiting for time to possibly bring a new turn of events. If things really got worse, he'd simply stay in Medicine King Valley and spend his life with Yue Wu Huan, doing his best to make him happy each day.
But he felt that this was far from enough...
Lying in bed, Song Qing Shi unrolled the scroll, scrutinizing it from every angle, hoping it might inspire him—perhaps how to erase painful memories without harming the mind, or even a way to time travel, kill Xie Que, and bring Yue Wu Huan back to live a carefree life in Medicine King Valley. Without the roadblock of his emotional trauma, Yue Wu Huan might even be willing to share some sweet and soft treats with him every day.
Regrettably, his master from Medicine King Valley, who was an expert in curing diseases and refining elixirs, had left nothing concerning psychological therapy.
What a useless master!
Song Qing Shi took advantage of the fact that his master couldn't hear his inner complaints and grumbled audaciously. He tossed the scroll onto the bedside table, illuminated the room with a night pearl, and continued organizing his medical documents. When he looked up, he found that he had inadvertently dripped a large blob of ink onto the scroll.
Instinctively, he tried to wipe it off, but the ancient scroll was too fragile. A little pressure tore a large hole in it, and in his panic, he ripped it in half.
Song Qing Shi was dumbfounded.
Trembling, he held the torn halves of the scroll, unsure of what to do next.
Could his prodigious disciple fix paintings?
Could he secretly recreate it and pretend that nothing happened?
Song Qing Shi was in a state of turmoil. He considered burying the evidence and playing dead if Yue Wu Huan didn't ask, but that felt dishonest.
Suddenly, the torn scroll emitted flecks of golden light, resembling golden fireflies.
Curious, Song Qing Shi examined the scroll closely, recognizing the light as merit-based golden radiance, a rare and valuable occurrence. Being a physician, he had accumulated some merit for saving people with his medicine and was not unfamiliar with this. It was said that some cultivators ascended to divine status solely based on their merits.
Why would such a simple painting contain golden light based on merit?
Intrigued, Song Qing Shi picked up the scroll to study it. To his surprise, the golden radiance surged towards him, melding into his body in a frenzy.
His vision darkened as his consciousness blurred.
In his mind, an endless sea of clouds appeared. Deep within the cloud sea, there was a snow-cave-like house, barren except for mountains of books. Inside, a young man who resembled Song Qing Shi sat emotionless, like a porcelain doll, reading book after book.
Come evening, the young man finally moved, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes, as if the porcelain doll had come to life.
Slowly, he walked to the window and leaned against the sill, sneaking glances at the horizon, as if waiting for something.
At the edge of the sky, a golden-red radiance began to rise, transforming into a phoenix made from the world's most dazzling flames. With nine golden-red flaming tail feathers, it glided closer, passing by his window. Its brilliant radiance illuminated his naive eyes and brightened his desolate room.
The monotonous sea of clouds came alive in the midst of this splendid beauty.
This was the only joy in his otherwise dreary life.
Day after day, year after year, the young man waited and watched.
...
Song Qing Shi was awoken by Yue Wu Huan. When he woke up, he found himself sprawled over the table, his mind foggy.
"Master, what happened?" Yue Wu Huan asked, wiping Song Qing Shi's eyes.
"Wu Huan, I had a dream," Song Qing Shi said, realizing his eyes were full of tears he couldn't stop. "It started as a beautiful dream, but it turned into a terrifying nightmare."
"Nightmares aren't real," Yue Wu Huan, perplexed by his inexplicable sadness, took a long time to comfort him before finally asking, "What did you dream of?"
Lifting his gaze, Song Qing Shi stared intently into the most beautiful phoenix eyes he'd ever seen. Fighting back his sorrow, he grabbed hold of Yue Wu Huan's sleeve and choked out:
"Wu Huan, I dreamed the phoenix disappeared."
"Wu Huan, I want to find it and bring it back."
"Wu Huan, I will never give up."