Cultivating Immortality, Starting from Childhood Sweethearts

“This is the North Sea, isn’t it?”

“This is my first time seeing the sea.”

“To be honest, looking at this vast ocean, I can’t help but feel so small.”

“Humans are inherently small. Even if one cultivates for a lifetime and reaches the Upper Five Realms, so what? If you stretch time long enough and expand space wide enough, anyone is nothing more than a mere drop in the ocean.

That’s why, as cultivators—especially us Confucian scholars—we shouldn’t always be obsessed with living as long as possible.

A person who merely passes time, no matter how long they live, is meaningless. But if they can leave something behind in this world, that is true eternity.”

“Mr. Liu.”

Just as Miao Feng and Yu Wenxi from the White Deer Academy were lost in contemplation, the academy’s wine-offering scholar, Liu, approached them and spoke.

Both Yu Wenxi and Miao Feng bowed respectfully.

“Yes,” Yu Wenxi and Miao Feng responded in unison.

Although they were once again subjected to Mr. Liu’s lecture, they had long grown accustomed to it. Whether they actually absorbed his words was another matter entirely.

“Hahaha, Mr. Liu, I’d wager that Yu Wenxi and Miao Feng weren’t really listening to your teachings. What they truly care about is catching a glimpse of the Dragon Empress’s grace.”

Three young men approached, their names were Fang Yu, Chen Kun, and Ling Bisheng.

These three were among the most renowned scholars of White Deer Academy’s younger generation, each having earned the esteemed title of “Gentleman.”

“You’re one to talk. Are you three any different?” Yu Wenxi shot them a glance. “Who was it last night, in our late-night discussion, saying things like, ‘If I could see the Dragon Empress just once, I could die without regrets’?”

Chen Kun blushed slightly and quickly defended himself, “I was drunk last night! That doesn’t count, that doesn’t count!”

“Drunken words don’t count? That’s not how it works,” Miao Feng countered. “There’s a saying—’A drunk man speaks the truth.’ The things said in drunkenness are often the most sincere.”

“Hahahaha, true, true. After all, who doesn’t appreciate a beautiful woman?” Fang Yu chuckled, then turned to Ling Bisheng. “And you, normally the quietest of us all, didn’t your eyes light up at the mere mention of the Dragon Empress?”

Ling Bisheng smiled. “A fair lady, a gentleman’s pursuit. Indeed, who wouldn’t admire a beautiful woman? But personally, I think Cici is even more beautiful.”

“Hahaha! Everyone knows you like Cici, but you’re not the only one.” Chen Kun laughed. “You’ve got plenty of competition.”

“Besides, you’re the son of Wei’s Prime Minister, while Cici is the only daughter of Qi’s First Marquis. What’s your plan? Have her follow you back to Wei? Or are you planning to follow her back to Qi?” Fang Yu teased.

“…” Ling Bisheng was momentarily speechless.

“Alright, alright, let’s stop picking on Bisheng. But honestly, Bisheng, maybe you should consider liking someone else. Cici still remem—”

Before Yu Wenxi could finish speaking to defend his friend Xu Ming—who was actually the one Cici liked—a light and pleasant female voice interrupted them.

“What are you all talking about? Why so lively?”

The group turned to see a young girl in an ink-colored long dress stepping out from the flying boat’s cabin.

She wore a green misty blouse, a pleated skirt of blossoming water-green fabric, and a sheer, flowing silk shawl. Her shoulders were delicate, her waist slender, her skin smooth as congealed cream, her breath carrying the faintest floral fragrance.

Her hair was coiled in an elegant bun, revealing her delicate sideburns. Her lightly arched brows framed eyes brimming with a touch of spring warmth. Her complexion was as flawless as the purest snow from the Tianshan Mountains, radiant and lustrous.

Beneath her delicate, upturned nose was a small cherry-like mouth, naturally red without the need for rouge, vibrant as if kissed by morning dew. Two strands of hair brushed against her cheeks in the breeze, adding an alluring touch of charm.

But what captivated people the most were the girl’s eyes.

Her gaze was clear and bright, filled with both liveliness and a hint of mischief, yet also carrying a scholarly grace.

As her pale green dress flowed down to her ankles and the sash at her waist tightened ever so slightly, her slender figure became even more pronounced. Though she lacked the voluptuous curves of a mature woman, her beauty was undeniable, imbued with an elegant and refined aura.

To everyone present, she seemed flawless—so ethereal, so untouched by worldly impurities, yet still exuding a delicate, bone-melting charm. Despite her breathtaking beauty, she was well-read, composed, and gentle as jade.

“Cici, what brings you out here?” Yu Wenxi asked with a smile, naturally dropping the topic from before.

“I’ve been inside the cabin this whole time. Every now and then, one needs a little fresh air, or else I’d feel stifled,” Zhu Cici replied with a soft laugh. “Besides, we should be arriving soon, shouldn’t we? As the envoy leading this delegation, it would be improper for me to stay hidden the entire time. If the North Sea Dragon Palace mistakes our silence for disrespect, I’ll surely get another lecture from Master when we return.”

“We are indeed almost there,” Liu, the wine-offering scholar, nodded in confirmation.

Although he was the eldest among them, in terms of seniority, Zhu Cici held a higher rank—being the personal disciple of the White Deer Academy’s headmaster. This meant that even Liu had to address her as “Senior Sister.” More importantly, she had been specifically chosen to lead this diplomatic mission, a decision made not just by the headmaster but by the entire leadership of the academy.

It was clear that White Deer Academy was intentionally elevating Zhu Cici’s status, but not a single person resented or envied her.

Her talent spoke for itself.

If anyone felt uneasy or unfairly treated, they had only one option—surpass her. But could they?

Had they not witnessed the inky dragons coiling above her residence as she studied?

Had they not smelled the lingering fragrance of ink wafting ten miles away whenever she wrote?

Zhu Cici was a chosen bearer of Confucian literary essence, a scholar blessed by the heavens.

“Hm? Where is Uncle Lu? I don’t see him,” Zhu Cici suddenly asked.

“Lu Xiaoliu, that rascal…” Liu chuckled and gestured behind her.

Zhu Cici turned around to see a man in a tattered blue robe, reclining lazily in a chair, basking comfortably in the sunlight.

Splash!

At that moment, a loud noise erupted from the sea.

Pillars of water shot up into the sky like dragons drawing from the depths, and one of them surged straight toward the flying boat.

The ragged scholar, Lu Xiaoliu, pulled down the Analects that had been covering his face, yawned, and murmured, “We’re here already, huh?”