Chapter 35: My Master Is Not a Morning Person

People in the residence rarely caught a glimpse of Ji Tianxin, for she seldom left her courtyard.

“Ji Tianxin!”—before the figure appeared, the angry voice of a young man echoed through the air.

The person lying on the soft couch in the courtyard, sleeping soundly, merely turned over and continued her slumber.

The late autumn sun was just right; warm golden rays bathed her body, gilding her entirely in a luminous glow.

Su Qing was meditating atop the roof, as Ji Tianxin had instructed—she was to spend hours daily refining her cultivation.

Su Qing once asked, “Why doesn’t the mistress need to do this?”

Ji Tianxin, only four or five years old then, replied, “I am not the same as you.”

For Ji Tianxin, cultivation had become second nature; even in sleep, it was a form of practice. It was as though the repetition of something had woven it so deeply into her habits, it became part of her very bones, untethered from any outward form.

Hearing someone shout, Su Qing immediately opened her eyes and leapt down from the rooftop.

As Ji Yuanruo burst into the courtyard, the first sight that met his eyes was Ji Tianxin, lying beneath the tree, basking in the sunlight, dozing peacefully.

A thin blanket covered Ji Tianxin, but one arm lay exposed atop the quilt, evoking an urge in onlookers to tuck her small hand back beneath the covers.

Her delicate face resembled polished jade, as fragile as a touch, tender and smooth like a newborn child. The golden sunlight cast upon her made the scene almost dreamlike in its beauty; simply lying there, she resembled a masterpiece of art.

Approaching felt as though one might shatter the enchantment of the moment.

Ji Tianxin was a practitioner; though she had achieved a state of perfect simplicity, making her cultivation difficult to discern, certain differences remained—her skin was finer than ordinary, her age seemed younger, and her aura unmistakably distinct.

Unless she deliberately concealed it, she would always draw the eye at a glance.

Ji Yuanruo paused, the words he’d prepared to curse swallowed back down his throat.

Yet thoughts of his mother’s death filled his eyes with hatred.

“Hey! Why are you shouting? Don’t you see my mistress is sleeping?” Su Qing’s voice was cold.

Ji Yuanruo was three or four years older than Su Qing, the senior by age, but as they faced each other, Su Qing appeared far more composed.

Ji Yuanruo drew the sword from his waist, his gaze fixed fiercely on Ji Tianxin upon the couch. “I am here today to avenge my mother! No matter who you are, vengeance for a mother’s death cannot be shared under the same sky!”

Yet no matter how much he shouted, Ji Tianxin did not awaken.

Su Qing knew well that once her mistress slept, not even thunder could rouse her, but... Ji Tianxin’s temper upon waking was formidable.

If this boy truly disturbed her mistress, the General’s Mansion might well be reduced to rubble...

Su Qing frowned deeply. “Brat, take your business outside or wait until my mistress wakes. If you make any more trouble, don’t blame me for being rude.”

Ji Yuanruo, the eldest son of the General’s Mansion, youthful and proud, renowned throughout Jin’an City for his talents, could not endure being threatened and scolded by a mere servant girl.

“A low-born maid dares speak to me?!” Ji Yuanruo’s voice grew harsh, and a long sword slipped into his hand.