Chapter 88

“You’re two hundred fifty years old, Azalea. I know your generation is all about waiting for the right person to come along, but don’t you think you should be more aggressive in your endeavors? At this rate, we’ll die before we see our grandchildren.”

Azalea’s expression darkened. She was in the Frostwind Empire’s capital, and of course, the first thing her parents did upon her return was lecture her about how she wasn’t getting any younger. At least they had stopped commenting on her appearance eighty years ago when more and more people began consuming titan flesh. Nowadays, muscular was the new beautiful—not that it was ever not beautiful. “I’m a Moon Lotus Sect disciple, Mom! You and Dad sent me there because it was an all-female sect, so you only have yourselves to blame for my singleness.”

Azalea’s mom sighed, and Azalea’s dad stroked his chin. “What about Vremya?” he asked. “Aren’t you interested in him? Speaking of which, is he attending the wine-brewing competition?”

“You always ask about Vremya,” Azalea said and glared at her father.

“Well, if you had any other men in your life, I’d ask about them too,” her father said and snorted. “You didn’t answer my question. Is he coming?” Over the years, Grandpa Vremya had produced less and less wine. If it wasn’t for Azalea bugging him, he wouldn’t even bother with selling wine. He could turn grapes into wine worth thousands of spirit stones, but the time it took wasn’t worth the effort. Would a billionaire stop his car in the middle of the street to pick up a hundred-dollar bill?

“He said he wasn’t going to come,” Azalea said. “The rewards aren’t enough to entice him anymore.”

“He shouldn’t do it for the rewards,” Azalea’s dad said and shook his head with a sigh. “He should come for the wine. As a master wine brewer, shouldn’t he enjoy an atmosphere like the one at the competition?”

Azalea wasn’t sure if she should tell her dad about Grandpa Vremya’s peculiar trait of having never eaten or drank anything. In the end, she decided against it. If she told her dad, he wouldn’t believe her; after all, even soul-seed cultivators had eaten food when they were younger. “If you want him to make you some wine, you could try offering him some paintings of rivers.”

“Paintings of rivers?” Azalea’s dad asked. “What is he? Some kind of river spirit?”

“Of course not…,” Azalea said, her voice trailing off by the second word. Could it be? Was Grandpa Vremya interested in rivers because he was actually a spirit born from a river? No, it couldn’t be. People who were interested in modifying carriages weren’t carriage spirits. People who were interested in collecting stamps weren’t stamp spirits. The fondness for rivers was just an odd peculiarity of Grandpa Vremya’s, nothing else. “Anyway, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be returning to my room.”

“Wait,” Azalea’s father said. “Take these with you.” He passed her a jade box.

Azalea raised an eyebrow, but she took the box. She opened it, and a strange scent leaked out. Inside, there were nine sticks of pink incense. “What’s this?”

“Aphrodisiacs,” Azalea’s father said with a straight face. “Your mother and I use them all the time to set the mood.”

“Gross,” Azalea said, making a gagging sound. “I didn’t need to hear that.” She froze. “Wait, why are you giving them to me?”

“You obviously need the help, sweetie,” Azalea’s mom said. “Isn’t Vremya staying here for the night? Those incense sticks work slowly, so you’ll want to light them soon.”

“Are you guys crazy?” Azalea asked, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. “You want me to drug an elder of the sect? Aren’t you afraid of the sect leader coming here to kill you in retaliation? She’s a terrifying woman, Mom, and she recently came out of seclusion.”

“We wouldn’t be the ones drugging him,” Azalea’s mom said with a smile, “you would. I don’t think you’d be punished as harshly, and Vremya seems like the type to take responsibility; he might not even report you.”

Azalea’s face blackened. She placed the jade box on the table and stood up while shaking her head. “I’m not going to use these,” she said and turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the wine-brewing competition.”

As Azalea left the room, she heard her dad say, “I told you she wouldn’t accept. She didn’t grow up in the palace.”

Azalea also heard her mother sigh. “What did they teach her in that sect? How can she not have a single ruthless bone in her body? What if someone takes advantage of her kindness in the future when we’re not around to stop them?”

Azalea closed the door and shook her head. She couldn’t blame her parents for what they suggested. The palace was a ruthless place; there was a reason why out of the nineteen children her grandparents had had, there were only three who were still alive. As she walked through the palace halls, she saw a familiar figure, her brother.

“Azalea, there you are,” her brother said. He passed her a bag of … something … before she could say anything. “Mom told me to give this to you.”

Azalea furrowed her brow and opened the bag. Inside, there seemed to be a costume. “What is this?”

“It’s a river-spirit cosplay outfit,” her brother said. “I don’t know why, but around a minute ago, Mom told me to get a set and give it to you. Are you taking part in a show?”

Question marks filled the air above Azalea’s head. Obviously, this was her mother’s way of telling her to seduce Vremya if he happened to be a river spirit—that wasn’t what she was confused about. “How did you get this and find me in less than a minute?”

“When the maid told me to get a river-spirit outfit, Vremya came out of his room and told me he had one,” Azalea’s brother said. “As part of the deal for lending me the outfit, he told me I had to take a recording of the person who was going to wear it.” He took out a recording jade. “If you’ll kindly put it on, so I can carry on with my day.”

Azalea was even more confused than before. When did Grandpa Vremya have time to obtain a river-spirit outfit? Did he make it himself? No, in the first place, why did he have one? Was he really a river spirit and not just a river enthusiast? There were so many questions but no answers at all. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, smothering her brother’s recording jade with the bag in her hands. “I’ll return this outfit to him myself.”

“A deal’s a deal,” Azalea’s brother said with a frown. “If you’re not going to wear it, then give it back to me, so I can return it to him.”

“Fine! I’ll wear it,” Azalea said and bit her lower lip. She stomped her foot, and an icy partition appeared, walling off the section of the hall she was in. “Give me a minute to change.”

“Alright, but hurry up,” Azalea’s brother said. “I still have to change the lantern oil in Vremya’s room.”

Shuffling sounds came from behind the partition, and Azalea’s voice soon followed. “The lantern oil? I didn’t know we even still had lanterns in this day and age.”

“It’s Mom’s mood-setting lantern,” Azalea’s brother said. “You know, the one that gives off a pinkish light.”

Azalea nearly tore down the ice wall despite her half-clothed state. “Don’t you dare put that lantern in Vremya’s room!”

“What? Alright, alright, there’s no need to yell.” Azalea’s brother scratched his head. Why was his family so weird? The sects were stronger than their empire because sects didn’t waste time on mood lanterns and theater cosplay. Couldn’t his family just be normal and cultivate for twenty-three hours a day like him and the rest of the world?