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Song Chi’s raised hand, holding Erkang’s, faltered midair. This was not what she had expected! How could this be? Could it be that she had also stirred some measure of Mo Feiyun’s compassion?

She never imagined that someone like her—once the rebellious child in the eyes of her parents and elders, a constant headache to her teachers, utterly lacking ambition—would one day be the recipient of such affection. It was truly a rare sight.

Perhaps it was the powerful force of the plot at work.

In any case, Song Chi stood quietly in the biting wind for a moment, then resolved to follow the course of this storyline. She had to admit, it was rather interesting.

Without lingering further in the Plum Forest, she felt a stir of emotion and decided to return to her quarters to play the zither with renewed vigor.

From afar, Mo Shubai watched the scene’s end, his expression twisted in anger as he looked at Ye Qingyu, who was visibly furious, and at his cousin Jiang Linyue, whose once refined and gentle nobleman demeanor had long since vanished, replaced by a dark and brooding countenance. Nearby stood Su Qiwú, the little phoenix of the Su family, whose cold eyes now burned with a deeper intensity, though not a drop of true phoenix blood had yet awakened within him.

Mo Shubai could only be speechless.

The Mo family member was clearly cunning. Earlier, he had covertly approached Song Chi, swiftly deploying a precious array talisman from the Mo Plum Clan. Casting a cold glance at the pursuing Ye Qingyu and others, he leisurely reached out to sweep aside the branches, as if brushing away the snowflakes around him, waiting for Song Chi to fall into his trap.

The formation was subtle and intricate. As Qingyu and her companions fiercely struggled to dissolve the array, Mo Shubai noticed Su Yu and Ji Minghuang secretly lending a hand. Even Cui Xueruo, an innocent child, quietly produced the family’s broken armor array turtle and crushed a supreme spirit stone to assist, aiding Ye Qingyu’s efforts.

Just as the array was about to be lifted, Mo Feiyun’s sleeve flicked with solemn authority, clearly preparing to unleash a magical treasure.

Unexpectedly, the Revered Yuheng extended a hand, gently brushing it aside. The protector had arrived.

But barely had Yuheng moved when the Revered Tonghua let out a cold snort, sweeping a delicate orchid hand back. The two battled silently, like an elegant dance of wills.

Nevertheless, this modest meeting was not disrupted.

Seeing these two venerable figures quarrel, Mo Shubai was at a loss for words. Such elderly individuals, yet still drawn to such petty affairs.

Yet tonight was the Lantern Festival—a time of splendid beauty, with the ten-mile Plum Forest aglow with dazzling lights. Such a scene could not be wasted.

Mo Shubai promptly invited Shen Wenyan to descend the mountain for a drink tonight.

Song Chi spent half a day in her quarters playing the zither but could not fathom the deeper meaning of the mystery.

Realizing the hour, she rose and pondered. This was, after all, her first date in two lifetimes. Although this meeting would soon fizzle out, out of respect she ought to dress properly.

She had not left the sect’s gates in years and naturally had no new clothes. Now that she had grown to about 1.62 meters, roughly the same height as before, she had no new garments beyond basic inner sect disciple uniforms. Her old clothes were certainly outgrown.

By chance, among the bundle her mother had entrusted to someone years ago was a remarkably exquisite outfit.

Apparently, Elder Pan of Changyun Sect had been pleased to learn she had entered the Qingjian Sect’s inner circle and had sent many gifts, including a rare bolt of pale purple celestial flower satin. Half a year ago, when Song Chi wrote to say she had grown taller, her mother promised to have a new garment made. This splendid robe of pale purple celestial flower satin was the result, layered inside and out with seven layers of delicate gauze in soft purple, topped by a diagonal-collar outer robe of the same precious satin.

The garment resembled a soft, billowing cloud, while the satin was stately in silhouette, its floral patterns elegant and refined. It truly suited a slender figure.

Elder Pan was said to have been a graceful lady in her youth. Her mother speculated this was fabric Pan had never worn, as the celestial flower pattern had fallen out of fashion but remained costly, priced with supreme spirit crystals. Her mother was deeply moved and waited until Song Chi had grown to gift it.

Song Chi hesitated upon receiving such finery. Wasn’t this too formal?

In her past life, she favored a cool, tomboyish style—often a crisp white shirt worn loosely, a refreshing and refined casualness. Her busy parents rarely dressed her, so she mostly wore plain white or blue robes. She had never donned such gentle gowns in either life.

Besides this outfit, she truly only had the sect disciple’s regular uniform, which was too casual and seemed disrespectful.

After some struggle, Song Chi chose the pale purple dress. She would treat it as the ceremonial gesture of a first date, as people valued in the future world.

Dressed so, she glanced in the mirror at the soft, cloud-like figure reflected back and twitched her cheek. She was clearly unaccustomed to such skirts.

Time pressed, however, and she disliked being late or keeping others waiting.

She gathered her things and left the west courtyard, only to hear a sharp intake of breath. It was Cheng Yao, leaning against the windowsill watching the snow.

Cheng Yao expressed admiration for the dress but frowned upon seeing Song Chi’s plain tied hair and bare face, quickly shaking her head.

“You have to change that hairstyle, or it’ll waste this celestial satin.”

Song Chi thought she didn’t know how to do those hairdos, and as for makeup, she simply did not use any. In her past life, she sometimes wore makeup, but this time she pursued a career path that was straightforward and businesslike.

She shrugged and started to leave.

Suddenly, Xi Ya appeared at the door and, upon seeing her outfit, couldn’t help but cover her mouth to laugh.

“It's really happening!”

“What do you mean?” Song Chi had a bad feeling.

Behind her, Cheng Yao giggled, “You went on a date with Mo Gongzi to the lantern festival, and someone caught it on camera. Now the whole sect probably knows.”

Song Chi was speechless. There had been no one around at the time. Most importantly, sect disciples were simply too fond of gossip.

At that moment, Dai Jia also entered, carrying her sword. Seeing Song Chi’s attire, she couldn’t help but smile quietly before turning to her own courtyard. It seemed she had already heard the news.

In recent years, Dai Jia had mellowed, no longer picking fights, but their relationship remained distant and silent.

“This celestial satin suits you well, but the hairstyle doesn’t work. Follow me,” Xi Ya said after inspecting her.

Song Chi insisted she had already shown respect in her dress and declined to change her hair.

Yet she could not escape. Cheng Yao bounced over, giggling, and pushed her toward the east courtyard. “Xi Ya’s hands are the most skillful. She’ll make you look stunning and help you capture Mo Gongzi’s heart tonight.”

She truly had no intention of capturing Mo Feiyun’s heart. If she said she was going to ‘undergo a tribulation’ to find some feelings, no one would believe her.

At this point, Song Chi thought dating was a reckless idea and began to back out.

But Xi Ya and Cheng Yao were insistent. Eventually, they styled her hair in a soft, elegant “Morning Cloud Near Fragrance” coiffure. When it came to applying makeup, Song Chi firmly refused.

Still, she allowed Xi Ya to dab a little lip tint. The faint rosy color instantly lent her face a subtle allure.

Reluctant but unable to resist, Song Chi was pushed out by Cheng Yao, who warned, “This is fine—don’t fuss with the lip tint or you’ll smear it all over.”

In the darkness, Song Chi looked back to see them laughing and shaking with delight beneath the lantern light.

Passing senior sisters who saw her couldn’t help but laugh together and whisper. It seemed the whole sect truly knew.

Song Chi was exasperated. She went invisible and took fifteen minutes to fly to the mountain gate.

By then, she was already fifteen minutes late.

The gate had been cleared, as if on purpose, and there were few people. Mo Feiyun had arrived.

He stood beneath the crimson lantern’s glow, clad in a blue robe with his hands folded behind him. His golden crown was neat and tight, and the embroidery on his robe intertwined with greater splendor and solemnity than usual. He too showed respect, having changed into formal finery for the occasion.

As soon as Song Chi arrived, Mo Feiyun sensed her and turned his head.

His back stiffened briefly before he quickly averted his gaze. Song Chi guessed that her grand attire had put psychological pressure on him. Compassion and love were clearly different things.

Song Chi approached. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Mo Feiyun replied, “I just arrived too.” Although he had probably stood there for some time, snowflakes resting on his shoulders.

“Shall we descend the mountain for a meal, then stroll the lantern festival?” Mo Feiyun asked.

“All right,” Song Chi nodded.

Since arriving at the gate, she had felt a strong murderous aura drifting from the nearby woods, mingled with the cold wind, making it hard to discern.

She suspected someone was secretly filming. The cultivation world must be terribly idle, given how much gossip there was.

Fortunately, Mo Feiyun soon activated a spiritual treasure, causing the surroundings to blur. Song Chi clearly heard frustrated voices from the shadows—this treasure rendered them invisible, preventing any filming.

Truly... there was nothing to say.

She was but a lowly nobody yet attracted so much attention. It was utterly unnecessary.

Mo Shubai reached the mountain gate just in time to see the two youngsters descending. He then noticed several furtive figures hidden in the shadows.

“She actually went to great lengths to dress up before meeting him.”

His cousin Jiang Linyue spoke with grim bitterness, his small fangs fully bared, his face stormy and clouded. There was no trace left of his once gentle nobleman guise.

Ye Qingyu ground his teeth in fury, veins bulging on his forehead. “Song Chi!” he snarled, then leapt down the mountain.

Su Qiwú remained calm, his cold eyes profound as he descended with his hands behind his back.

Jiang Linyue followed in pursuit.

Behind them trailed three others—the dragon and phoenix descendants—clearly unwilling to miss tonight’s spectacle, determined to watch it through.

Mo Shubai paid them no mind, tonight focused only on the city’s brilliant lanterns. He leisurely revealed himself and slowly descended the mountain.