Ten Years in the Mortal World 02

"Ten years. The pill toxins have finally been completely purged."

Ye Xuan looked at the small hole on the ground, a glint of sharp light flashing in his eyes.

That gleam vanished in an instant, so fast that mortal eyes could never have caught it.

But in that split second, if a cultivator had sensed it with their divine consciousness, they would have discovered...

The spiritual energy fluctuations around Ye Xuan's body had undergone a fundamental transformation.

It was as if muddy wine that had been turbid for ten years suddenly settled and became clear in this moment, turning into a jar of the most mellow and exquisite immortal nectar.

His cultivation realm was still at the late stage of Soul Formation.

There was no breakthrough, not even an inch of progress.

However, the purity of his spiritual energy was more than a hundred times greater than it had been ten years ago.

If he were to strike out with a burst of sword qi, ten years ago, his spiritual energy would have been mixed with various impurities, like throwing a basin of dirty, sandy water at his enemies.

But now...

Releasing the exact same amount of spiritual energy was like unleashing the purest torrential current. Without the slightest waste, every ounce of power would act precisely upon its target.

This was the power of a solid foundation.

His foundation was now like the green mountains beneath his feet.

Washed by ten years of wind and rain, stripped of all superficiality and illusion, only the hardest rock layers and the deepest roots remained.

Ye Xuan rested his iron sword against the ground, folded his hands over the top of the hilt, and lightly closed his eyes.

He felt the circulating path of the spiritual energy within his body.

The spiritual energy flowed through his meridians, as clear as a mountain stream, without a trace of impurity or the slightest obstruction. It passed smoothly through every acupoint and every node.

Even more importantly, his dantian.

Ten years ago, his dantian was like a muddy pond; it contained everything, yet nothing was pure.

Now, his dantian was like a bottomless, secluded pool.

Its surface was as calm as a mirror, crystal clear to the bottom.

But the power contained within its depths was so profound that one would not dare to look directly at it.

Ye Xuan slowly opened his eyes, a faint smile appearing on the corners of his lips.

"Husband, it's time to eat!"

A gentle call made Ye Xuan tremble slightly.

He turned his head.

He saw Ying'er wearing a floral apron, carefully walking out of the kitchen with both hands holding a large, coarse porcelain basin filled with steaming sweet potato porridge.

The porridge was cooked perfectly, with just the right consistency. Golden sweet potato chunks could be seen bobbing in the milky-white rice broth, emitting a simple yet enticing sweet aroma.

The sweet potatoes were grown in their own field, and the rice was aged grain left over from the autumn harvest. It could hardly be considered a rare delicacy, but Ying'er always managed to turn the simplest ingredients into a mouthwatering meal.

She had that ability.

And she had that devotion.

Watching Ying'er's figure, a layer of gentle light involuntarily surfaced in Ye Xuan's eyes.

Ten years had passed, and Ying'er had changed too.

She had changed a lot.

The frail, timid maidservant who had once been like a frightened deer had now blossomed into a gentle and poised young woman.

Her figure had grown a bit more voluptuous; she was no longer the heartbreakingly frail girl of the past. Her waist was still slim enough to grasp, but her curves had softened, and as she walked, the gentle sway of her skirt exuded a graceful charm.

Her skin was still as fair as ever, but it was no longer the sickly pallor of someone who never saw the sun. Instead, it radiated a soft glow, like fine mutton-fat jade.

Her eyes were still as large and bright, like two clear springs. But within those springs, there was now a tranquility nurtured by both time and love.

She no longer trembled all over in fear every time Ye Xuan frowned, like she used to.

She no longer carefully observed her master's expression before daring to speak.

She no longer called him Master.

She called him Husband.

This change in address began in their second year here.

At that time, they had just moved to Green Ox Village, posing to outsiders as a young married couple fleeing from famine in another region.

In the beginning, Ying'er would call him Husband in front of others, but behind closed doors, she habitually reverted to Master or Young Master.

Ye Xuan had corrected her many times, but she just couldn't change the habit.

Then one night, as the two of them sat in the courtyard looking at the moon, Ying'er suddenly blushed and, in a voice as soft as a mosquito's hum, said:

"Um... Master... no... um... Hus... Husband..."

"Hmm?"

"Ying'er... can Ying'er... always call you Husband from now on?"

She kept her head down, her hands wringing the hem of her clothes, her ears so red they looked ready to bleed.

"Not just pretending... but... for real..."

Ye Xuan was stunned for a long time.

Then, he smiled gently.

"Okay."

From that day on, whether in public or in private, she called him Husband.

And Ye Xuan gradually grew accustomed to the title.

Ying'er carried the basin of porridge to the stone table. As she bent over to set it down, a stray wisp of hair slipped from behind her ear and draped beside her slightly flushed cheek.

"I simmered it for a long time; the sweet potatoes have practically melted into it. Have a taste," she said, while deftly setting out the bowls and chopsticks. She then pulled out a small dish of pickled radishes, a dish of salted vegetables, and a dish of glistening chili paste from her apron pockets.

"I pounded the chili paste fresh yesterday. I added extra garlic, since you said it needs a lot of garlic to taste right."

Her tone carried a hint of proud accomplishment, like a little kitten waiting for praise after doing a good deed.

Ye Xuan put away his iron sword, casually leaning it against the wall, and walked over with a smile.

He took the bowl of porridge Ying'er handed him, but didn't rush to drink it. Instead, he leaned in to smell it, and then naturally turned his head to plant a light kiss on Ying'er's cheek.

"Smells wonderful."

When he said those words, he was talking about the porridge, but not entirely about the porridge.

"Oh my!"

Ying'er reacted as if she had been burned. She jerked her neck back, her face instantly flushing red from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears; even the exposed patch of her neck turned pink.

"S-stop messing around!" She gave Ye Xuan a reproachful glare, though her gaze wasn't fierce at all. Instead, it was sweet and soft, as if coated in honey. "Granny Wang next door is watching!"

Ye Xuan looked over, following her gaze.

Sure enough, behind the low wall of the neighboring courtyard, Granny Wang's wrinkled, grinning old face peeked out.

"Oh, I didn't see a thing!" Granny Wang laughed, unable to close her mouth, waving the feather duster in her hand. "You two lovebirds carry on, carry on! This old woman is going to feed the chickens!"

After saying that, she didn't forget to shout into her own courtyard: "Old Man Wang! Look at little Ye! Then look at yourself! How did you treat me twenty years ago? You never even gave me a single flower!"

A muffled, grumpy retort from Old Man Wang came from the courtyard: "What flowers! Can you eat flowers? With that time, I could hoe two more ridges of land!"

"You..."

Granny Wang was so furious she swung her feather duster in the air.

Ye Xuan and Ying'er exchanged a glance and burst out laughing at the same time.

The two sat face-to-face at the stone table, eating their porridge with salted vegetables.

The gentle morning sunlight spilled over them, overlapping their shadows on the ground.

Ying'er ate very gracefully, taking small sips of porridge and occasionally picking up a bit of salted vegetable, chewing it thoroughly. But for every two bites she took herself, she would pause to place a chopstickful of vegetables into Ye Xuan's bowl.

Husband, eat this, the pickled radishes are nice and crisp.

Have some more of this chili paste. Eating something spicy in the morning warms the stomach.

Drink the porridge while it's hot. It's not good for your digestion if it gets cold...

Ye Xuan did not decline, eating in large mouthfuls.

The porridge was sweet.

The radishes were crisp.

The chili paste was indeed flavorful, packed with plenty of garlic.

They were all the most ordinary of foods.

But Ye Xuan ate very earnestly, chewing every bite carefully as if he were savoring some peerless delicacy.

As Ying'er ate, she chattered away about domestic matters. Her tone was light and rambling, like an oriole hopping about the branches:

Husband, the rice vat at home is almost at the bottom; it's probably only enough for five or six days. The bag of rice we bought last time was old and had a musty smell. It took me a long time to pick it clean...

Also, your shoes are worn out. The sole on the left one is almost worn right through. I wanted to stitch you a new pair, but we don't have enough coarse cloth. I'll have to go to town and buy a few more feet...

Yesterday I went to town to sell my embroidery. Shopkeeper Liu at the silk shop said my Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix was beautifully stitched and gave me three taels of silver for it. He drove a hard bargain, though; I think it was worth at least five... But whatever, he always buys my goods, so I feel bad haggling too much...

I heard grain prices have gone up again this year, twenty percent more expensive than last year. Auntie Zhang said it's because there's a war in the north, and the grain merchants are shipping all the food up there... Sigh, who knows when it will end...

Oh, right, Granny Wang next door said her sow had a litter of piglets and asked if we wanted one. I figured if we raise it, we could butcher it for the New Year and make cured meat, but we haven't built a pigpen yet, and that will take quite a bit of wood...

And another thing, Scholar Zhao at the village entrance sent someone over to ask if you could help teach half-days at his private school. He said he's getting old, his eyes can't see the words clearly, and he just can't teach anymore. The tuition fee is five hundred copper coins a month. Do you think you could do it?

As she spoke, she suddenly realized Ye Xuan hadn't made a sound. She stopped and looked at him in confusion:

Husband? Are you listening?

Ye Xuan looked at her.

Of course he was listening.

He was listening to every single word.

The rice vat hitting the bottom. The worn-out shoes. The embroidery selling for three taels. Grain prices rising by twenty percent. Whether to buy a piglet. Whether to go teach at the school.

These mundane trifles that were not worth mentioning in the eyes of cultivators, these things that seemed as insignificant and laughable as ants moving house to those lofty immortals in the cultivation world.

At this moment, in Ye Xuan's ears, they sounded like the most beautiful Sanskrit chants of the Great Dao.

What did he hear?

He heard life.

Real, living life, filled with the smoke and fire of the mortal realm.

The worries of firewood, rice, oil, and salt; the helplessness of pinching pennies; the social interactions with neighbors; the faint anxieties about an uncertain future.

But there was also the warmth of a bowl of hot porridge, the sweetness of the word Husband, the grounded feeling of two people depending on each other for survival, and the resilience to bring out the sweetness in a bitter life.

This was the mortal world.

This was the mundane realm.

Cultivators pursued immortality, pursued the Great Dao, pursued transcending beyond heaven and earth.

They flew higher and higher, saw further and further, lived longer and longer.

But because of this, they grew further and further away from being human.

They forgot the taste of hunger, forgot the feeling of exhaustion, forgot the embarrassment of worrying over a few copper coins, forgot the warmth that surged in the heart when gently called to eat.

They forgot that they, too, were once human.

Ye Xuan had not forgotten.

Because Ying'er would not let him forget.

With her daily chatter, her daily household management, and her daily companionship over the past ten years, she firmly nailed him to the concept of the mortal world.