Be Gentle, Immortal Master

The chest had two compartments. The one on the left was filled with clumps of clay, whereas the one on the right was filled with … dried grass and leaves.

Or at least, so it would appear to anyone else stumbling upon it. But I needed only one glance to know what those desiccated greeneries on the right side were. With utmost care, I picked up a twine of palm fronds lying at the top of the pile, placing it gently in my hand.

The fronds were woven into the shape of a bunny. The weaves and braids had come loose over the years, and the lively green had turned into a dull shade of yellow, but I could still easily recognize from the outline of its chubby belly and fat ears that this was a clumsy work of mine—I had made it during my first spring at Mount Hua, after my first rescue of hurt animals from Bai Ye's garden.

I still remembered that day when I shuffled into his room with the crippled bunny in my arms and mud all over my robe. I couldn't ignore the little thing when I found it shivering behind the bushes, but I had the slightest clue how my master would react to such a childish act. I hadn't known him for long—only a few months by then—and as much as I had learned that he wasn't keen on formality like other masters, I didn't dare go too far. Saving baby animals wasn't part of a disciple's duty, after all.

Being the timid girl I was those days, I hesitated over the threshold, debating with myself what to say to him. But he heard my approach and came to me first. Only one look at the little fuzzball in my arms, and he knew what I was there for. "Do you know what it eats?" was the only question he asked as he patted me affectionately on the head.

I almost couldn't believe my ears. Nor my eyes for the following days, as he helped me gather the vegetables to feed it and used the opportunity to teach me how to treat dislocated joints and bone fractures. The bunny healed in no time. When it was able to hop around freely again, we released it together, and I remembered that warm smile on his face when he told me that I had done a wonderful job.

That was when I weaved this bunny figurine out of palm fronds. It was a silly habit that I couldn't grow out of—I wanted something to remember my little friend by, and also something to remind myself of how lucky I was to have such an understanding master. But my handcraft was so terrible that the figurine kept turning out fat and ugly, and I gave up after a few tries. I paid no more attention to that lump of my failed attempts afterward, simply assuming that they had ended up in the trash.

Never would I have thought that five years later, I would find it stored like a piece of treasure in a chest.

My eyes moved to the rest of the items in that compartment. Woven birds, squirrels … I had made one of these every time I saved a small life, and I had almost forgotten how close I was to turning Bai Ye's hall into a farm. I was lucky indeed—no other master would've tolerated a disciple like this.

Placing the woven bunny carefully back into the chest, I studied the other compartment.

The clay had crumbled too much, and I didn't dare reach for it. Whatever it was would certainly turn to dust had I but breathed too hard over it. I lifted the chest to my eye level, examining the contents from different angles, and it wasn't until I turned it a full rotation in front of me that I realized … those were figurines of animals as well.

It was obvious from the state of decay that these had been kept for a long time. Maybe even hundreds of years. The details were hard to see at this point, but the vague outline was still discernible. Just like the collection in the other compartment, these were birds, bunnies, squirrels … And from the few delicate curves that survived to date, I could tell how much more well-done they were compared to my crude craft.

Such delicacies were clearly not made by my hands, but I barely needed to guess to know where they came from. I remembered that first vision Twin Stars had shown me, and I chuckled a little at that look on Bai Ye's face when my past self brought him the wounded bird. What kind of expression would he have shown me at the sight of these clay figurines? How long did it take him to finally accept these whims of mine?

My heart felt full as I brushed my fingers along the edge of the chest. I had always been a little embarrassed by how childishly I acted in my early days at Mount Hua—I thought I should've contained that fondness for little animals by fourteen already, instead of showing it so brazenly and making Bai Ye indulge me like so. I had always been grateful that he tolerated my silliness for so long, but little had I known this was a trait that came from the sword spirit herself. A trait that he hated at first, then slowly came to love, so much that he went as far as collecting all these little memories of it. So much that every time I rescued a little bunny, I was reminding him that the girl he had loved for a lifetime was still here, right next to him.

I suddenly remembered the night of Mid Autumn, when he placed that bunny lantern in my hands under my disbelieving stare. The girl inside me hadn't changed, he had told me then.. And now, I finally knew the true meaning behind those words.