Over the next few days, life went on. It always did. No matter what happened, time ticked on. The sun continued to rise. The wind continued to rustle through the trees. The birds continued to chirp.
Though, as Yujia noticed, the birds were quieter now. It was winter, far different than the sounds and sights of springtime. These were tiny details that she picked up, like how the birds abandoned their nests, one-by-one, in migration. She didn't pay attention to these details of nature as carefully before, not unless she was sitting down and painting.
On quiet mornings, as she gathered her courage and will to face the day ahead, she discovered that noticing the smaller things— birds and the like— brought her mind to a state of tranquility. It helped her, so she continued.
As the days passed, Yujia slowly learned how to stop cowering from the prospect of her master's passing. Even after her talk with Zixu, it was difficult to stomach the truth she had to face. Nevertheless, she never stopped trying. Day after day, she put in her best effort. Only by going onward did she learn to stop misleading herself from the truth.
This morning, as she prepared her master's medicine, she no longer found herself distraught, nor did she desperately seek for a distraction.
Her master seemed to notice, commenting, "Did something good happen?"
"Do I seem better than usual?" she replied in a question.
"More lighthearted?"
She slowly continued stirring the medicine, a light smile gracing her lips. "En, then I suppose something good did happen."
At last, she seemed to learn how to let go of that persistent guilt. In this very moment, Yujia was just content with the fact that she could sit by her master and stir his medicine for him. These were small things, calm feelings. But to Yujia, that was enough.
Her stirring arriving at a pause, Yujia looked up into the eyes of her master. She took in the way his eyes crinkled at the corner, the relaxed expression he wore, his gentle features, his white hair.
"Master, thank you," she said. "Thank you for your magnanimous guidance in my life. Thank you for everything that you have taught me, for everything that you've given me."
He reached out to take the bowl of medicine from her. Quietly, he took a spoonful of the medicine, and at last, said, "I was happy to do all of that."
"I know," Yujia replied. She gave him a bright smile. "And so, I am grateful."
…
Soon enough, Yujia's status as an adopted granddaughter was processed. It was something easier than she thought, barely involving her in any shape or form. As she previously suspected, there was a slight rise in the capital at the news that Master Yue Ze of Lingxin Pavilion adopted a granddaughter. They were curious about her background, but not for long. Yue Ze's influence was enough to cast the news to the shadows, discussed in private but never in public spaces. As a result, it became widely accepted common knowledge that there was a descendant to the Yue Family.
In Lingxin, from what Yujia heard the entire time, students were less concerned of where Yujia came from, and more of the succession policy of the school. Sure, Ye Yunhe's father, Ye Xuanhe, was the current head of the school. Except, if Yue Ze truly doted on his new granddaughter so much, wasn't it likely that as a last will, he would want Yujia to replace the current school head? What would the academy be like with a young girl as its leader?
These rumors, like the ones floating in the capital, were shut down quickly too, although not before Yujia caught wind of them. As a topic that fit in her daily discussions of her master, she brought it up.
Quite plainly, Yujia stated, "Master, you must've heard those rumors. I'm not sure of your plans, but as far as I know for my opinion, I don't want to succeed Lingxin from you."
After hearing those rumors, she admitted to not knowing exactly what her master thought of, but she did have some speculations. Considering how one of her master's biggest regrets in life was never crediting the founding of Lingxin Pavilion to his wife, Wei Yunjing, Yujia had a feeling that her master may have considered passing the academy to her. In a way, it completed the circle, from transmigrator to transmigrator.
However, Yujia knew that in the end, running Lingxin Academy was not what she wanted to truly do. She had her own business, Three Inks. She had her own goals. She wanted to start something because of her own capabilities, not merely inherit something from someone else. Besides, Yunhe's father had worked so hard as the school head. Managing the academy was no easy task, but it fitted him. As years passed on, Yunhe was equally fit to succeed the school. She knew he could and would do amazing things for the progress of the art world.
Yujia simply didn't see herself going down the path that was already intended for others.
To her surprise, her master didn't ask why. He nodded his head, remarking, "I did consider it for a second, but I respect your wish to not inherit Lingxin. Before, I thought that perhaps it would be better, with you fulfilling the goals my wife never could. But," he said with a brief pause, "you are not her. Burdening you with her wishes was something she wouldn't have wanted, if she was here."
Silently, Yujia agreed. Her speculations before were right, she realized as her master spoke.
He concluded his words with a simple statement. "Kid, just promise me something. Whatever you choose to do in the future, do the things that'll make you happy. Don't live with regrets."
"I'll do my best; I promise," Yujia pledged.
"That'll be enough for me," her master said, a soft sigh tracing his words.