The first light of dawn crept gently over Mount Yuling, painting the sky with soft strokes of gold and rose. A light mist hovered above the trees as Yueqing stood outside the bamboo hut, her heart pounding with excitement. Today, for the very first time, she would step into the legendary Tianhua Realms.
Her modest travel robe was fastened tightly, and her fruit basket—filled with the freshest mountain pears, wild berries, and plum-like fruits her grandfather had harvested—was slung carefully over her back. She took a deep breath of the mountain air and turned toward the small fire where Grandfather Ziyan brewed his morning tea.
"I'm leaving now, Grandfather," she called gently.
Ziyan looked up, his eyes calm but sharp, as always. He sipped from his clay cup before nodding. "Remember what I said. You're only going to look and to learn. Be careful whom you trust. And be back before the moon rises."
"I will," Yueqing promised with a grin, trying to mask her nervousness. She bowed deeply to him and, without further delay, set off along the forest path.
The journey to the Heavenly Gate took several hours, through dense woods and over steep ridges. But when she arrived, the sight before her was breathtaking: a floating stone archway engraved with glowing runes, hovering just above the earth. As she stepped forward, the portal shimmered with light, and she passed through it in a single breath.
The world changed.
Suddenly, she stood within the legendary Tianhua Realms—a realm of floating islands, radiant temples, and immortal cultivators walking on air. But Yueqing didn't come for the grandeur. She came for one thing: to try and sell her grandfather's fruit.
---
In the lower district of the city, near the outer gardens of the realm, there was a smaller market often frequented by new disciples and outer sect cultivators. Yueqing found an empty spot near a pavilion wall and laid out her fruits on a cloth, arranging them carefully.
At first, she stood with hope.
A few passersby glanced at her curiously, but most didn't stop. Some seemed confused. Others smirked. Then came a group of young disciples—dressed in robes of clean silver and blue, their hair neatly tied, their voices loud and confident.
"Look at this," one of them said, stopping in front of her stand. "Mortal fruits? Who even eats these anymore?"
Another reached out and picked up a pear. "It's too soft," he sneered, squeezing it slightly before tossing it back carelessly onto the cloth.
Yueqing stepped forward quickly. "Please don't touch them if you're not buying."
"Oho? And what will you do?" another chuckled. "You think we don't know these grow on any hillside? Why are you even here?"
The laughter that followed made her heart sink, but she held her ground.
Just then, a calm voice cut through the noise. "That's enough."
Everyone turned. A young man stood at the edge of the crowd. He was dressed in dark robes, his sword sheathed across his back, and his expression unreadable. He was clearly an inner disciple—his presence carried authority, and the others knew it.
"Do you mock someone who only wishes to earn an honest living?" he asked, stepping forward.
The disciples, now quiet, exchanged glances. One muttered, "Sorry," and they quickly walked off.
Yueqing looked at the young man. He was taller than most, his features sharp, and there was a faint scar across his left eyebrow, giving him a slightly dangerous aura. Yet his voice had been gentle. She bowed slightly. "Thank you."
He met her eyes and, for the briefest moment, hesitated—just long enough to notice how her eyes caught the light, how her face was clear and honest like water. Then he gave a small smile. "No need."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Yueqing stood silently, watching his back disappear into the crowd. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly.
She didn't even know his name.
---
That man—Mo Ren—was already halfway back to the Sword Arts Academy when he glanced back over his shoulder.
"She's… beautiful," he murmured to himself, a rare warmth touching his normally stoic face.
But he didn't return.
He shook his head, suppressing the strange feeling in his chest, and disappeared behind the gates of the academy, where lessons awaited.
---
Back at her fruit stand, Yueqing's mood had dampened.
The incident had attracted a few curious looks, but no one came to buy anything afterward. She sold only two pears—one to a young girl and another to an old immortal who smiled kindly and said, "Tastes like memory."
As the sun began to dip, she realized her basket was still nearly full.
She sighed, stood up, and packed everything back with quiet care. "Grandfather was right," she thought. "This place shines... but that doesn't mean everyone here is kind."
With one last look at the sky-bridged temples of Tianhua, she turned around and walked back to the glowing portal, her footsteps slower now—not from exhaustion, but disappointment.
---
When she stepped back onto Mount Yuling, the sky was painted in shades of dusk. The wind was cooler now, brushing her cheeks gently as she made her way down the slope.
Grandfather Ziyan was tending the fire again.
"You're back early," he said, not looking up.
Yueqing placed the basket down. "No one wanted the fruit."
Ziyan simply hummed, as if he had expected this all along.
"But…" she said softly, "someone did help me. A young man."
He glanced at her, noticing the thoughtful expression on her face. "You'll meet many people, Yueqing. Just remember—not all help comes without reason."
She nodded, unsure of what that meant, but also too tired to ask further.
That night, she lay in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above her.
She still didn't know the name of the man who stood up for her.
But she remembered his eyes.
And somewhere in the floating towers of Tianhua, Mo Ren was looking up at the moon, thinking not of swords or titles—but of a girl in a simple robe, standing beside a basket of wild fruit, smiling shyly.