210: Chapter 208 The End

In the days that followed, Xue Ji began hanging around Yun Ming once again.

However, this time, she no longer wore those gossamer-thin gauze clothes, no longer spoke in that sickeningly sweet voice, and no longer intentionally bent over to reveal her chest or swayed her hips.

She wore simple green robes, her hair tied up casually, and her face was free of any makeup, appearing completely natural.

She served tea, poured water, cleaned the courtyard, and organized the study, doing everything more efficiently and naturally than before.

Then she would pull up a small stool, sit beside Yun Ming, rest her chin in her hands, and watch him with her head tilted.

"Tell me a story," she said.

Yun Ming was drinking tea; hearing this, he put down his cup and glanced at her. "Didn't you say my stories were boring?"

"Who said you were boring?" Xue Ji blinked. "I said you were unromantic, not that your stories were boring. Hurry up and tell one."

Yun Ming shook his head, but he told one anyway.

He told a story from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. It wasn't Nie Xiaoqian, but another one—a scholar saved a fox, and the fox repaid the favor by taking human form and becoming his wife. She was virtuous, gentle, and kind, managing the household perfectly and even helping the scholar pass the imperial examinations. Later, the scholar found out she was a fox but didn't despise her; instead, he treated her even better. They grew old together, surrounded by children and grandchildren. Xue Ji's eyes sparkled as she listened, her tail swaying behind her.

"This one is good," she said. "This ending is good."

Yun Ming told another one.

This time it was a tragedy.

A general and a songstress fell in love. The general went to war, and the songstress waited for him. The general died on the battlefield, but the songstress didn't know and kept waiting. She waited her whole life until her hair turned white and her eyes went blind, finally dying under the willow tree where they had made their promise. Xue Ji's eyes turned red, but she didn't cry.

"You," she sniffled, "why do you mix the good stories with the bad?"

Yun Ming took a sip of tea. "Stories have sorrow and joy, just like life. You can't only pick the good parts to hear."

Xue Ji snorted but didn't argue.

In the days that followed, Yun Ming told many stories. There was the full version of The Legend of the White Snake, starting from Bai Suzhen's Cultivation, to the meeting at the Broken Bridge, to the Flooding of Jinshan Temple, to the collapse of the Leifeng Pagoda, and finally to Xu Shilin's offering at the pagoda. He told it in great detail, narrating every plot point vividly, as if he had experienced it himself. Xue Ji was mesmerized; sometimes she forgot to drink her tea or eat melon seeds, just sitting there in a daze, staring at him without blinking. He also told the full version of A Chinese Ghost Story, from Ning Caichen going to the capital for the exams, to meeting Nie Xiaoqian at Lanruo Temple, to Yan Chixia's righteous assistance, to Xiaoqian's Reincarnation, and finally to Ning Caichen searching for her after passing his exams. After listening, Xue Ji fell silent for a long time.

"That Tree Demon Granny," she suddenly said, "did she also have her own difficulties? She must have been forced too, right?"

Yun Ming glanced at her. "You certainly have an active imagination. But in this story, the Tree Demon Granny is the antagonist; she wasn't given any tragic backstory."

"Then you can give her one," Xue Ji said. "You're so good at storytelling; make up a background for her so she's not that bad."

Yun Ming thought about it and shook his head. "Not all villains need a tragic backstory. Some evil is just evil, no reason required. Remember this when you make up stories in the future. Not every character needs to be sympathetic."

Xue Ji nodded thoughtfully.

Seeing her learning seriously, Yun Ming added, "You don't have to stick to these pure love stories. People are ever-changing, so your stories shouldn't focus on just one type. Sometimes, those stories with regrets and imperfections are actually more attractive. For example, the story of the general and the songstress—the songstress never knew the general had died until her own death. She left with hope, but the readers know the truth. This kind of regret is more memorable than a grand happy ending."

Hearing this, Xue Ji snorted again. "You just want to say that even bad women can be liked, don't you?"

Yun Ming was stunned for a moment, then laughed. "That's more or less it."

Xue Ji glared at him. "I don't want to be a bad woman."

Yun Ming spoke bluntly, "You don't have to be one; you already are."

After saying it, he felt it was inappropriate and helplessly spread his hands, adding:

"I'm not telling you to be a bad woman. I'm saying that people's preferences are complex, and your stories can be complex too. It doesn't always have to be a perfect female lead; sometimes characters with flaws are more realistic."

Xue Ji stood up, kicked the stool aside, and turned to leave.

Her tail flicked back and forth behind her as if expressing her dissatisfaction.

She pushed open the door to her room and slammed it shut loudly.

Yun Ming sat in his bamboo chair, holding his teacup, feeling bewildered.

He thought about it and felt he hadn't said anything wrong.

He was helping her broaden her horizons, not talking about her personally.

This fox—why did she get angry so easily?

Life went on.

Xue Ji stopped pestering him for stories.

She started going out on her own to the city's bookstores, tea houses, and theaters to buy those secular storybooks.

She bought stack after stack, piling them on her desk and flipping through them every day.

But no matter how much she looked, none were as interesting as the ones Yun Ming told.

When she read those storybooks, the beginning was always "It is said that in a certain dynasty, there was a scholar," followed by the scholar meeting a beautiful woman, then the two making a private vow, being torn apart by family, and finally a grand reunion. Or vice versa—separation first, then reunion. The tropes were all similar, just a few variations over and over.

Some were even worse, with crude writing and vulgar plots, never straying far from carnal desires.

She would throw them aside after a few pages, feeling they were an eyesore.

Only then did she realize that the stories Yun Ming told weren't just made up randomly.

Those stories had love, loyalty, sorrow, joy, sacrifice, and gain.

They didn't rely on carnal attraction but moved people through emotion.

The storybooks she bought still couldn't escape those carnal plots; they seemed lively while reading but were forgotten immediately after, leaving nothing behind.

She sighed and piled the books in a corner, no longer looking at them.

She started writing on paper herself, writing her own story. She wrote about a fox who had Cultivated for a thousand years, took human form, and came to the human world. She wanted to find someone who didn't covet her beauty, her body, or her Charm Technique. She searched for many years, in many places, and met many people. Some craved her looks, some her wealth, some her cultivation, and some just wanted to use her. She didn't find him. She kept searching. The story stopped there; she couldn't write further. Because she didn't know if the fox ever found that person.

She had even forgotten her original intention, which was to learn more Advanced Charm Techniques.

Time passed quickly.

In the blink of an eye, the day for Xue Ji's departure arrived.

That morning, Qin Zhao arrived. She wasn't wearing armor but had changed into a sharp outfit, a long sword hanging at her waist, her hair tied high, looking heroic and spirited. She walked into the courtyard, glanced at Yun Ming, and then looked at Xue Ji's closed door.

"I've come to take her away," Qin Zhao said calmly, as if speaking of a very ordinary matter. "We're leaving today. We probably won't meet again."

Yun Ming leaned back in his bamboo chair, holding his teacup, and nodded. "Fine. Suits me just fine."

Qin Zhao glanced at him but said nothing. She walked to Xue Ji's door and knocked. "Let's go."

The door opened. Xue Ji walked out, wearing a pale green dress, her hair held up by a jade hairpin, her face without makeup, her lips and eyes both looking faint. She glanced at Qin Zhao, then at Yun Ming, before withdrawing her gaze and walking to Qin Zhao's side with her head lowered.

She didn't say goodbye to Yun Ming.

Not a single word.

She didn't even give him a second look.

She just stood there with her head down, like a child sulking.

Yun Ming held his teacup and watched her, feeling somewhat bewildered. What was this fox angry about now? He thought back and felt he hadn't offended her recently. He told her stories, and she liked listening. He gave her advice, and she listened to that too. He hadn't done anything wrong.

Qin Zhao glanced at Yun Ming and added, "Once I've sent her off, I'll be heading back to the front lines. Zhou Qian will return then to take over the work here."

Yun Ming nodded. "Anyone will do, as long as the money is right."

Qin Zhao looked at him, her lips twitching slightly as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back.

She turned around, took Xue Ji, pushed open the courtyard gate, and walked out.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded, disappearing at the end of the alley.

The courtyard grew quiet, leaving only the rustling of leaves in the wind and the sound of tea sloshing in the cup.

Yun Ming sat in his bamboo chair, holding his teacup, looking at the closed gate.

His expression was calm, showing no sign of reluctance or loss.

He took a sip of tea, put it down, leaned back against the chair, and closed his eyes for a moment.

Then he opened his eyes, stood up, walked to the center of the courtyard, looked at the empty stone table, looked at Xue Ji's room with its open door, and looked at the few Spirit Medicines in the corner that he hadn't tended to in a long time.

A trace of loneliness flashed through his heart.

It was very light, very fast, like a ripple blown across the surface of a lake, smoothing over in an instant.

He shook his head, picked up the new Official Bulletin from the stone table, and walked into the house.

It was time for Alchemy.