At dawn, the first pale light crept shyly over the cliff edge on the outskirts of Chenghuiping, like a bashful girl peeking through a curtain.
The mountain wind carried a faint, salty tang—an ether tide drifting up from the Hollows below—and ruffled Qianye's silver hair. He lifted his gaze.
Suibian Temple stood quietly before him. Its soot-gray walls looked worn by years of wind and rain; dark roof tiles were dotted with stubborn patches of moss. The overall air of age and neglect was no different from yesterday.
What was different was the gate.
Those two heavy doors—wood grain blurred by time—were wide open, utterly unguarded, as though the temple were a silent old man who had already foreseen his guest and invited him in without a word.
Qianye and Jane stepped over the high threshold.
Inside, the courtyard was paved with stone slabs, blades of grass pushing up from the cracks with quiet defiance. The main hall straight ahead was shut tight; eaves drooped low, the interior dim enough that only the vague shapes of an altar and a statue could be made out. The air held a peculiar, layered smell—aged timber, burned-out incense, and a faint mildew note—time itself, compressed into scent.
But Qianye's eyes were drawn to the ground.
A thin, even layer of dust lay over every stone, like a pale carpet woven by years. And yet across that uniform gray-white, several broom marks cut through in clear, messy streaks—someone had apparently tried, in a panic, to hide the courtyard's loneliness… and only managed a few futile swipes.
Qianye's jade-green eyes shifted, careful, quietly curious as he took it all in. Even his stubborn silver cowlick seemed to sense the unfamiliar ether flow and heavy stillness here; it didn't stand as proudly as usual, instead curling up slightly, cautious—making him look, for a moment, younger than he liked to admit.
He unconsciously softened his breathing, as if afraid to disturb the temple's ancient hush.
Jane, at his side, was the opposite.
She wore practical clothes fit for movement. Her black-to-teal gradient hair was untouched by the morning chill, as composed as the calm in her gaze. Next to Qianye's cautious, slightly tense presence, she looked almost sharply out of place.
That was when—
Near one corner of the main hall, a small figure with her back to them seemed to react to their footsteps and shifted slightly.
It was a girl in a neat short top and shorts, a strip of energetic midriff showing above long, straight legs. Her short golden hair was layered and lively, but what stood out most were the furry tiger ears on her head—white fur with dark markings near the tips—twitching unconsciously with her emotions.
Behind her, a tiger tail banded in clear black rings swayed restlessly. At the tip, a red ribbon was tied, covered in tiny inked characters—four little "fire" marks written over and over.
In her arms she struggled to hold a strange metal object.
It was roughly cylindrical, riddled with vents and buttons—half like an old popcorn machine, half like an unfinished industrial component—so large it looked ridiculous against her petite frame.
Even so, the girl was doing her best to stand tall.
Shoulders back. Chin lifted. A deliberate attempt to imitate the bearing of a grandmaster from old stories—or, worse, a certain "godfather" type she must've picked up from some film. She tried to make her back look stable, reliable, even intimidating.
Then—
Clink.
Qianye accidentally stepped on a loose stone slab.
The small sound was like a pebble dropped into still water, shattering the courtyard's hush—and snapping straight into the girl's nerves.
Her tiger ears jerked hard, like startled radar dishes. The tail stiffened, pulled taut, betraying the tension she'd tried so hard to hide.
She cleared her throat—an obvious attempt to cover her nerves—and spoke in a deliberately lowered voice that was meant to sound mature and authoritative…
…yet still came out crisp and youthful:
"Who goes there? State your name!"
The words echoed faintly in the empty courtyard.
Clutching the heavy metal object as though it were her badge of office, she began to turn slowly—painstakingly steady—chanting silently in her head:
Be inscrutable like Master… Keep your gaze calm… Make the new junior feel the dignity and reliability of his senior sister at first glance…
But the moment she fully turned and her eyes cleared the object in her arms—
the entire fortress of preparation collapsed in an instant.
Only one thought remained.
He's… beautiful.
Those eyes—like fine jade set into a face too clean for the world—clear, bright, full of life, and strangely pure. Just meeting them made people want to be kinder.
His skin was so fair it looked nearly translucent in the morning light, glowing with a soft, warm sheen like polished white jade. And that disobedient silver strand at his forehead trembled slightly with his restrained breath, like a sprout searching for shelter.
All of it together formed a beauty that transcended gender—clean and untouched—an arrow of light that pierced straight through Ju Fufu's defenses and struck the secret, dreamy corner of her heart she'd sworn wasn't there.
But that was only the visual impact.
The truly lethal part was the pull coming off Qianye himself.
For a tiger Thiren—whose senses were naturally far sharper than a normal person's—this wasn't just "he looks good."
It was something deeper. Instinctive. A kind of scent that was impossible to describe properly: the finest catnip, clear flower honey, and the warmth of sunlight, somehow fused into one irresistible fragrance.
It hit her nose and the animal core of her brain at the same time, stroking raw instinct awake.
Thud.
The heavy metal thing—her "Huwei"—slipped from her arms and hit the dusty stone with a dull crash, kicking up a puff of gray.
Ju Fufu's mouth fell open, tiny tiger fangs showing.
Her emerald eyes went wide—staring straight at Qianye without blinking—as if what stood before her wasn't a new junior disciple…
…but some impossibly fragrant delicacy that she could not, under any circumstances, resist.
She swallowed unconsciously.
A faint feline purr bubbled in her throat.
Her mind went blank except for one crazed thought looping again and again:
So… fragrant… I want to pounce and rub my face against him… it must feel…
Qianye, under that direct stare—something dangerously close to a predator's fascination—grew visibly uncomfortable. A thin blush spread over his pale cheeks.
Inside him, that unusual power stirred in a tiny ripple of pink—so subtle it vanished instantly, unnoticed even by himself.
He took a breath, forcing the discomfort down, stepped forward, and asked gently in his usual calm, caring tone:
"Are you alright? Do you feel unwell anywhere? Do you want me to take a look?"
His voice was clean and warm—like clear mountain water flowing over stone—soft enough to soothe.
It hit Ju Fufu like a thunderclap.
"A-ah—no, no, I'm fine!" she blurted, flailing her arms in panic as if her soul had just been yanked back into her body. She scrubbed hard at the corner of her mouth with her sleeve—there wasn't actually any drool, but she could feel the humiliation anyway.
Her face went beet red in a heartbeat, coloring all the way down to her neck. Her tiger ears flattened into embarrassed "airplane ears," trying to hide in her hair. Her tail curled up and twisted behind her as if it could vanish on command.
"I—I just spaced out! Yes! Spaced out! I trained too hard last night!"
She stammered through the excuse, eyes sliding away from Qianye's gaze.
Inside, her soul was already screaming:
It's over! My dignified senior-sister image is dead! It died on sight!!
To escape the crushing embarrassment—and salvage something—Ju Fufu snapped her focus back onto Qianye.
Her eyes lit up again like polished gemstones, blazing with pure enthusiasm. The forced "authority" vanished entirely, replaced by raw, sunny energy and almost scorching warmth.
"You—you're Master's new junior disciple, Qianye, right? I'm Ju Fufu! Yun Kui Mountain's senior disciple! The senior sister!"
She puffed out her small chest and planted her hands on her hips, trying to look reliable—despite her still-red cheeks and a tail tip that wouldn't stop trembling.
Qianye watched the dramatic mood swing, and the tension in his chest eased. Even the earlier discomfort at her stare faded. He couldn't help but smile—warm and genuine—and nodded politely.
"Senior Sister Fufu. Hello. I'm Qianye."
That single "Senior Sister" was like a spoonful of honey poured straight into Ju Fufu's heart.
Warmth surged from her head to her tail tip. Her whole body felt light—almost floating. Her tail began to wag again, fast and small, like it was going to whip up its own tiny tornado.
"Ah! Wait—hold on! Wait for me!"
She suddenly remembered something crucial, yelped, and—forgetting all about saving face—shot off like a small hurricane into the side rooms.
Qianye and Jane, who had been standing there the whole time as if she were invisible, exchanged a brief look.
In less than a blink, the "hurricane" came back.
Ju Fufu no longer carried the heavy Huwei. Instead she hugged a neatly folded set of Yun Kui Mountain disciple robes—simple, comfortable-looking fabric, a plain top and trousers with subtle cloud-pattern stitching.
She thrust them toward Qianye like an offering, grin bright enough to rival sunrise.
"Here! Your disciple uniform! I prepared it ahead of time! I've been waiting for you! Come on, little junior—I'll take you to the quiet room so you can change. From now on you're my—"
She caught herself a fraction too late, cheeks flushing again.
"—our Yun Kui Mountain's little junior!"
And as she spoke, she reached out—quick, eager—to grab Qianye's wrist.
It wasn't just helpfulness. It was impatience to claim him into her "responsibility zone," or maybe something more tender and possessive that she wasn't ready to name.
Her fingers were only inches away when—
A different hand slid in smoothly.
A long, strong hand in a black fingerless glove, placed gently but decisively between Ju Fufu and Qianye like a silent wall.
"Sorry, little kitty," Jane said, her smile sweet as syrup—and sharp as a blade beneath it. "Let me handle small things like that for him."
Ju Fufu's head snapped around.
Only now did she truly look at the woman she'd completely ignored.
She had been so consumed by Qianye's "sunlight" that Jane's presence had been flattened into background noise.
"Don't call me a kitty!" Ju Fufu bristled like a startled cub, fur practically standing up. "I'm a tiger! A super scary big tiger!"
She glared, instinct screaming a warning: This woman is not simple. And she's not friendly.
"And who are you?!" Ju Fufu demanded, taking a defensive stance like a small animal guarding food it barely understood it wanted. "Why are you here with our little junior?"
Jane's smile deepened, amused in a way that felt like a cat watching a mouse finally notice the trap.
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she lifted Qianye's hand and—smoothly, naturally, almost casually—interlaced her fingers with his.
Ten fingers locked together, no space left between them.
The gesture was intimate beyond friendship. It was affection—possession—declaration without words.
Jane raised their joined hands slightly so Ju Fufu couldn't miss it.
Ju Fufu's eyes followed—automatically—until she saw the way their fingers threaded and held.
Her brain made a loud, hollow buzz and went blank again.
That wasn't how friends held hands.
That wasn't even how "close people" held hands.
That was… unmistakable.
Before Ju Fufu's thoughts could reboot, Jane finally spoke, voice light, delighted, and clearly victorious:
"I'm his lover."
Two words.
His lover.
They dropped like frozen hammers into Ju Fufu's chest.
Her bright smile locked in place like a cracked mask. Her eyes widened even further, emerald pupils flooded with disbelief, shock—
and something else.
A small, newborn feeling that hadn't even had time to become a proper name… crushed instantly by ice.
Ju Fufu jerked her gaze to Qianye, desperate for denial. For correction. For anything.
But Qianye only turned redder around the ears. His green eyes held a helpless sort of indulgence.
He didn't refute it.
If anything, his fingers subtly squeezed back.
Then he glanced at the disciple robes in Ju Fufu's hands and offered her a gentle, apologetic smile.
"Thank you, Senior Sister. I can do it myself. I won't trouble you."
He reached with his free hand and took the robes—accepting the gift, but not her.
Then, still holding Jane's hand, he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her toward the quiet room.
Right before the door closed, Jane even turned her head and gave Ju Fufu a refined, elegant smile—calm, victorious, and unmistakably meaningful.
As if to say:
Look. He's mine.
Thunk.
The wooden door shut.
The sound echoed in the courtyard like a verdict.
Ju Fufu stood alone, frozen in place like a discarded little beast.
Even Huwei at her feet—abandoned on the dusty ground—seemed to take pity on her, nudging gently against her ankle.
The emotional drop was too fast, too brutal.
One moment: ecstasy at seeing him, breathless delight at "little junior," dreams bursting into bloom.
The next: a black-haired woman drawing a boundary with one sentence, and Qianye leaving hand-in-hand—without looking back.
Ju Fufu's eyes emptied.
Her body swayed.
Then she dropped to her knees with a soft plop, sitting on cold, dusty stone, a little cloud of gray puffing up around her.
She stared down at the messy broom marks she'd made in a frantic attempt to make the courtyard look less lonely.
Then she stared at the closed door.
A dam broke.
Her mouth trembled; her nose stung; her eyes filled fast. Her voice came out small and choked, like a dream unraveling:
"Why…? Why is it like this…?"
She'd found him first.
She was the senior sister.
She'd prepared the robes.
She'd been ready to lead him into everything—
So why did he already have someone beside him?
And worse: someone who looked clever, dangerous, and impossible to beat.
Just as Ju Fufu sank into the spiral of first love's first fracture—confused, crushed, and drowning—
A cool, familiar voice came from the gate:
"Fufu?"
Yixuan had returned.
She wore her spotless white, draped under her signature bright yellow outer layer. Her silver hair fell like a waterfall, making her face look even more coldly beautiful. Her orange-green vertical pupils held a rare trace of visible confusion as she regarded her senior disciple—collapsed on the ground like the world had ended.
In her hand, Yixuan carried a paper bag with the "Tea Immortal" logo, fragrant with the oily warmth of fresh barbecue buns.
The moment Ju Fufu saw her master, it was as though she'd found the only piece of driftwood in a black sea.
She shot up, hurled herself forward like a cannonball, and wrapped both arms around Yixuan's waist, burying her dusty, tear-streaked face into Yixuan's chest.
Then she bawled.
Loudly. Unashamedly. The kind of wailing that made the whole courtyard feel smaller.
"M-Master! Why—why is little junior already married?! Waaaah…! He—he already has a lover! Waaaah…!"
Yixuan stiffened slightly at the sudden assault, looking down at the sobbing tiger girl smearing tears and dust into her clothes… then calmly glanced toward the still-closed quiet-room door.
With the pieces connecting easily in her mind, she sighed—quiet, resigned.
Most likely Jane had done or said something again, and teased this naïve little tiger into catastrophe.
Yixuan lifted a hand and patted Ju Fufu's trembling back, oddly gentle compared to her usual teaching manner.
Her voice remained steady, flat, and soothing in its certainty:
"Married? He isn't."
"Waaah… I finally met someone that fits my—huh?"
Ju Fufu's scream cut off like a string snapped.
She lifted her head, eyes swimming, face dirty with tears and dust, staring at Yixuan like she'd heard an impossible prophecy.
"M-Master… what did you just say?"
Yixuan produced a clean white handkerchief from her sleeve and offered it with the same calm as if she were handing over a talisman.
"I said: your junior disciple Qianye is not married, and has no engagement. Wipe your face. You are Yun Kui Mountain's senior disciple—compose yourself."
Ju Fufu grabbed the handkerchief and scrubbed her face wildly.
Then—
Her eyes ignited.
Bright, brilliant emerald light flooding back in as though someone had poured life into them.
A thought nearly burst out of her mouth—I still have a chance to steal——she swallowed it with the last scrap of sanity left.
But inside her head, fireworks were already going off like a festival.
Not married.
No engagement.
Which meant…
Nothing was settled.
And Ju Fufu—close by, senior sister, legitimate presence—had advantages.
Yes.
Absolutely.
This was destiny.
As her brain tried to sprint ahead into a full "how to increase affection without looking desperate" strategy plan—
The quiet-room door creaked open.
Qianye stepped out, now dressed in Yun Kui Mountain's disciple uniform.
The plain, clean fabric made him look even more refined. His jade-green eyes seemed clearer, purer, as if the robe itself made him harder to stain. His stubborn silver cowlick still poked up, giving him that familiar, endearing liveliness.
He adjusted his sleeve awkwardly—still not fully used to the fit—then walked straight to Yixuan.
He didn't even notice Ju Fufu's burning gaze.
He tidied his collar, then bowed with clasped hands in a textbook disciple salute—stiff from inexperience, but sincere.
"Greetings, Master."
Yixuan nodded calmly.
Then, in the same flat tone she might use to comment on tea temperature, she said something that made both Ju Fufu—still high on sudden hope—
and Jane—who appeared just in time to hear it—
freeze in shock.
"No need for ceremony. Today's entry lesson: you will accompany me to the Lemnian Hollow."
"What?!" Ju Fufu nearly screamed. Her face flipped instantly from ecstatic fantasy to sheer panic. "Master! Did you misspeak?! The Lemnian Hollow?! Little junior just arrived! He hasn't even learned basic breath control! He doesn't know a single defensive technique! That's dangerous! He can't go!"
Jane's brows drew together too, eyes sharpening as she looked at Yixuan with clear distrust.
First day—into a Hollow?
That wasn't normal.
It was reckless at best.
What was this "grandmaster" thinking?
But Qianye—of all people—was strangely calm.
Yes, the word "Hollow" flickered a sliver of instinctive caution across his face. But what filled his eyes more than fear was something almost pure:
Trust.
He lifted his gaze to Yixuan's vertical pupils—clear, steady—and answered without hesitation:
"Yes, Master."
Then, as if worried his obedience might not fully express his resolve, he added softly—earnest and absolute:
"I believe you will protect me."
For the briefest instant, something shifted—so subtle it was almost imaginary—deep in Yixuan's eyes.
She looked at Qianye for a long moment, then gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
She turned.
Her yellow outer layer cut a clean arc through dusted air as she headed for the gate.
"Come."
Qianye glanced back once, offering Ju Fufu and Jane an apologetic, reassuring look—don't worry—then hurried after Yixuan, keeping close to her unhurried, already-distant steps.
The ancient courtyard was left behind with two women still inside it:
Ju Fufu, hands on her cheeks, tail thumping the ground in frantic rhythm—torn between "Little junior trusts Master so much, that's adorable" and "But Hollows are terrifying, what if he dies"—
and Jane, arms folded, blue-green eyes narrowed, watching Yixuan and Qianye disappear beyond the temple gate, her usual smile turned unreadable.
After a pause, Jane spoke first.
"Senior Sister Fufu… mind hearing me out?"
Ju Fufu snapped toward her, suspicious. "W-what do you want?"
Jane's smile returned—soft, coaxing, lethal in its sweetness.
"Do you want to follow them?" she asked, voice lazy with suggestion. "After all… Master Yixuan never said we weren't allowed to trail behind. And…"
She leaned in close, lips near Ju Fufu's ear, and whispered the bait with perfect precision:
"Don't you want… to understand my Qianye better?"
Ju Fufu's pupils dilated.
"…I'm in!"
Jane's smile deepened, satisfied.
So easy to lead, she thought. So easy to read. A kitty-shaped little tiger—no threat at all.
And with Ju Fufu newly fired up, Jane's eyes gleamed with something far darker than amusement.
The two of them turned toward the gate—toward the Hollow.
And the day's real trouble began to gather its breath.
Join here to read ahead.
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