Absolute silence draped the Autumn Wind Pavilion as the trio crossed its entrance gates in the dead of night.
Under the weak light of the paper lanterns, the butler was already waiting. He maintained a deep, impeccable bow, as if his sole purpose in the universe was to exist for this very moment.
Yù Qíng stopped in the middle of the courtyard, her dark blue silk brushing the immaculate wooden floor.
"Arrange quarters for her tonight," the First Wife ordered the butler, her voice serene. She then turned her sharp eyes on the exhausted bureaucrat. "Rest, Lín Jié. We will speak in the morning. My sisters are waiting for us inside."
Zhì Yuǎn and Yù Qíng said nothing more. They continued down the eastern corridor, disappearing into the scented shadows of the pavilion, leaving the former administrator behind, accompanied only by the silent butler and the sound of her own breathing.
------
That night, Lín Jié did not close her eyes. The scent of sandalwood and the absurd softness of the sheets she lay on felt otherworldly to someone who had spent her life sleeping propped against stacks of reports.
When the first light of morning finally pierced the windows, the summons came.
The butler waited for her outside the door. In silence, the servant guided her with firm steps through the bright, open corridors of Fairy Qīng Yǔ's courtyard. The contrast with her former life was stark. Where there were once piles of damp bamboo, there were now rich tapestries, white jade censers exhaling purifying mists, and the absolute quiet of true wealth.
They stopped before heavy mahogany double doors, carved with cranes flying among clouds.
In front of the entrance, the servant took a step back. Tucking his hands into his wide sleeves, he made a deep, silent bow toward the closed doors and retreated down the corridor, leaving her completely alone.
Lín Jié hesitated a moment before pushing open the polished wood.
The warm light of dawn flooded the main chamber. Lín Jié took a step inside and froze. The air suddenly grew thin.
Scattered around the room, the wives lounged and chatted. All of them wore only thin, loose silk robes that slipped casually over their shoulders, revealing immaculate skin in the intimacy of the morning. The combined presence of those celestial figures — features that defied the laws of the mortal world, perfect curves, and oppressive auras masked by morning languor — struck the former bureaucrat with the weight of a mountain.
Lín Jié swallowed hard.
Seated at the center of the divan, Zhì Yuǎn raised his eyes to her.
He said nothing. He simply raised his hand.
Primordial Qi poured from the man's palm and crossed the room instantly, enveloping Lín Jié completely. The energy seeped into her like a viscous, patient tide. He knew her mind still needed to settle before taking the step toward transcendence, but that did not stop him from rewarding her choice.
The exhaustion deep within her bones simply melted away under the golden light.
The hardened calluses on her index finger from years of wielding a brush vanished. The transformation did not alter Lín Jié's essence — the hourglass figure and the mature curve of her hips remained intact and firm — but her skin, once pale and marked by stress, gained the pure white texture of polished jade. Her hair, once heavy and dull, lightened slightly, revealing waves of deep, dark green. The rigid features of her face softened into a refined beauty worthy of a fairy.
When the purifying trance faded, Lín Jié drew in a single breath, the air making her feel cleaner and lighter than she ever had in her life.
It was then that she noticed Qīng Yǔ and Huáng Bìyù among the group. The two had also changed: both women's skin now displayed a vibrant, flushed freshness. Although they still lacked the overwhelming beauty of the other four, the Fifth and Sixth Wives were already dangerously close to it.
"Just look at her," Yù Méi commented, leaning against the window frame with her golden robe half-open, letting out a provocative little laugh. "She's truly beautiful now."
"The ink-stained skin has turned to porcelain," Mò Yán added, adjusting the gray silk over her bust with a calm smile. "And this is only the surface purification. I can hardly wait to see the final transformation when she starts dual cultivating with our husband."
The other wives murmured in agreement with low giggles.
Lín Jié felt her face burn instantly. A deep flush rose from her neck to the tips of her ears; she was mortified by the explicit teasing of these women, who spoke of the act with disconcerting naturalness.
Seeking refuge, Lín Jié let her gaze land directly on Zhì Yuǎn.
Without the dark mist of the night lake and under the merciless clarity of morning, she finally saw the man up close. The raw perfection of his jaw, the unfathomable depth of the dark irises, and the divine gravity that emanated from every pore made him impossible to ignore. The aesthetic impact struck her like a physical blow, shattering her reason. Completely stunned, she stared at him with her mouth slightly open, until a thin thread of saliva pooled at the corner of her lips.
Before the drop could escape, the rustle of white silk approached.
With her natural sweetness, Bái Wǎn raised a fine handkerchief and wiped the corner of Lín Jié's mouth. Then the Fourth Wife's small pale hands held the bureaucrat's flushed cheeks, forcing Lín Jié to look down and meet the Fourth Wife's soft gaze, drawing all attention to herself.
"I'm so happy you accepted," Bái Wǎn said, her voice gentle and welcoming. "I wanted to go fetch you myself when Yǔ told us your story…"
Lín Jié blinked, stunned by the kindness and the girl's sweet scent, and slowly turned her face toward the healer.
The Fifth Wife, standing near the divan in a pale-blue robe, felt her cheeks grow hot when she saw the focus of the room return to her. Qīng Yǔ averted her gaze for a second, embarrassed, but finally gave a silent, delicate nod, confirming her sister's words.
The atmosphere in the chamber was warm, relaxed, and intimate. A sanctuary that worldly disputes could not reach.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three crisp, firm knocks on the heavy front doors of the pavilion cut through the quiet, but none of the women made any move to rise.
Mò Yán simply adjusted the sleeve of her gray silk and waved a hand dismissively.
"The butler will handle that," she said in a mild voice, turning her amused eyes back to Lín Jié. "Now tell me, Sister Jié… how did you endure wearing those rough clothes for so long? I faced a similar issue, but now I can't even imagine going back to wearing so many layers to hide my curves."
The conversation resumed instantly, muffling the outside world.
------
At the majestic gates of the Autumn Wind Pavilion, the morning sun already bathed the courtyards. The butler opened the heavy double doors, his face set in a mask of placid politeness.
Standing at the top of the staircase was the Disciplinary Deacon. He wore the heavy black robes of the outer courtyard, and the aura of his cultivation pulsed subtly but deliberately in a clear attempt to impose authority.
"How may I help you, Deacon?" the butler asked, his hands tucked comfortably inside his wide sleeves.
The man in black robes narrowed his eyes. He tried to measure the cultivation base of the servant in front of him but found only an empty, indescribable abyss. Unsettled, he straightened his posture.
"One of our mortals disappeared this morning," the Deacon began, his tone cold and inquisitive. "Our watchers reported that Administrator Lín was seen during the early hours accompanying two servants into the grounds of the Fairy Healer's courtyard."
The butler did not blink. He was not surprised by the watchers' confusion, nor did he bother to correct them.
"Miss Lín is here," the servant confirmed. "She now serves my Master."
The Deacon's eyebrows knitted into a deep frown.
"And who exactly would this 'Master' of yours be?" the Deacon demanded. A mortal carrying secrets of the Empire was a matter of internal security. It was not a problem that could be resolved simply by hiding behind the shadow of a Young Master's courtyard.
The butler held the man's hard gaze. His expression remained serene, but the temperature on the landing seemed to drop abruptly.
"That is none of your concern," Mò Zhōng replied, his voice polished yet as crushing as the weight of a mountain. "Is there anything else you require?"
The Deacon stiffened. The direct audacity of that answer caught him by surprise, but his core's primitive survival instincts prevented him from drawing his sword or raising his voice. There was something very wrong and dangerous in that silence.
The Deacon's lips stretched, forming a tense smile that was no smile at all.
"I appreciate the information," he said, taking a step back, his eyes gleaming with a veiled threat. "I need to report this to the Elder. Have a good day."
He turned his back and marched down the stairs, already formulating in his mind how the Hall of Internal Affairs would react to that insolence.
The butler watched the black figure disappear around the bend of the gravel path, then closed the doors in silence without dedicating a single second to the matter. He needed to return to the kitchen. His Master would lunch with the family today, and the preparation of the meal would not tolerate delays over such irrelevant issues.
------
The open terrace of the Autumn Wind Pavilion was swept by a soft midday breeze. In the center of the space, a long table of reddish mahogany had been set.
Lín Jié sat at the lower end of the table, gripping her bamboo chopsticks with a rigidity that made her knuckles ache.
She stared at her own porcelain bowl. The steaming rice resting there was not ordinary.
Each grain was translucent, emitting a pale, pearly glow, wrapped in a thin mist of pure Qi. The mere aroma of that "Celestial Lotus Rice" already made Lín Jié's newly cleaned meridians pulse with energy. In her ten years as administrator of Qīng Yì's faction, she had seen a small bag of that rice auctioned in the capital for a price capable of financing an entire mortal army.
Here, it was served as a common side dish.
In the center of the table, jade dishes contained golden slices of spiritual beast meat marinated in rare herbs, shimmering broths of earth-dragon marrow, and thousand-year ginseng roots sliced as if they were ordinary radishes.
The butler moved silently around the table, pouring cups of spiritual wine with the placidity of a grandfather serving tea.
Lín Jié looked from the priceless banquet to the man seated at the head of the table.
Zhì Yuǎn ate in silence. His posture was relaxed, devoid of the arrogance that the Young Masters of the sect usually flaunted along with their wealth. He chewed methodically, listening to the trivial conversations of the women around him with a serene expression.
To him, this was not a display of power. It was simply Tuesday lunch.
"You're not eating," Yù Qíng observed, seated to Zhì Yuǎn's right, holding her cup elegantly. "Has mortal-world food ruined your palate?"
"I-I…" Lín Jié swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the meat in front of her. "The cost of this table… The roots in this soup could buy the entire jurisdiction of the Eastern Territory."
Mò Yán let out a low, crystalline laugh, covering her lips with her gray sleeve.
"Oh, dear sister," the Third Wife said, her tone overflowing with amusement. "You need to quickly put down your imaginary abacus. The scales of the outside world are useless for weighing what we have in here."
Bái Wǎn, seated right beside Lín Jié, leaned in with an animated smile. Using her own chopsticks, the girl picked up a succulent slice of golden meat and placed it directly on top of the bureaucrat's pearly rice.
"Eat!" Bái Wǎn encouraged, her eyes shining. "Your body just went through purification. Your new meridians need dense energy to settle properly. If you don't eat, Grandpa Zhōng will think you didn't like the seasoning, and he gets terribly depressed when that happens."
Right behind her, pouring more wine, the butler gave a placid smile with closed eyes, neither confirming nor denying the Fourth Lady's accusation.
Lín Jié looked at the two newest arrivals in search of sanity, but Qīng Yǔ and Huáng Bìyù were already devouring their food as well. They still showed a slight trace of reverence while eating the rare ingredients, but they had already accepted their new reality.
Slowly, Lín Jié raised her chopsticks.
She brought the meat and a grain of rice to her mouth. The moment she chewed, the flavor exploded on her palate and the spiritual essence poured straight into her empty core, filling her body with a revitalizing heat. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced herself to chew with dignity.
She was not merely eating. She was chewing through years of hunger, years of scraps, and years of humiliation.
From the head of the table, Zhì Yuǎn's unfathomable eyes rested on her for a fraction of a second. He did not smile, but his slight nod was enough to anchor the former bureaucrat's soul once and for all.
The past was officially dead.