Jun Lintian turned to Qing Nianli and asked softly, “Nianli, is there any urgent matter that brought you down to the Mortal Realm?”

　　Qing Nianli nodded slightly and answered candidly, “Senior Jun, I came first at my mother’s request to pay respects to you, and secondly to attend to some personal matters.”

　　Jun Lintian inclined his head, then, curious, asked, “Then how did you and Chen meet?”

　　At the question Qing Nianli’s cheeks flushed. She huffed, vexed: “He… he fell from the sky and landed right on me, and… he touched me… my—” Her words trailed off as her face reddened further and her head bowed.

　　Jun Lintian paused, an image forming in his mind: Yichen plummeting from the air and colliding unexpectedly with Qing Nianli, who had been standing unprepared beneath him. In that sudden contact his hand had likely brushed some delicate part of hers. He could picture the awkwardness and embarrassment of such an accident, and he understood Qing Nianli’s current bashfulness. The encounter was so improbably theatrical it made him smile.

　　“A most singular meeting,” Jun Lintian observed lightly.

　　Hearing him, Qing Nianli’s blush deepened until her face felt aflame. She tucked her fingers into her sleeve and protested in a small voice, “Jun senior, you laugh—”

　　Jun Lintian watched the maiden’s coy vexation and said gently, “Nianli, Chen is a good boy. If he offended you, it was surely unintentional. Don’t hold it too tightly in your heart.”

　　Qing Nianli remained cross but nodded faintly. “Hmph. Even if it was unintentional, it was excessive.”

　　Jun Lintian smiled and patted her shoulder. “You’ll see. Chen is naturally kind. You’ll come to know it in time.”

　　Qing Nianli pressed her lips together and fell silent.

　　“Don’t call me ‘senior’ all the time,” Jun Lintian added with a chuckle. “I knew your parents well. Call me Jun Uncle.”

　　Qing Nianli lifted her head and, obediently, “Jun Uncle.”

　　Jun Lintian laughed heartily. “That’s better.”

　　They walked together along a winding path, admiring the rural scenery—talking at times, enjoying the peacefulness of the Mortal Realm at others. Before long the modest courtyard-house nestled among trees came into view. Though no match for a celestial palace, it had a simple charm perfectly at home in the hills.

　　Jun Lintian was smiling as he spoke to Qing Nianli when suddenly a clatter came from the kitchen. Yichen burst out in a disheveled rush, chasing a chicken. The bird fluttered, clucked loudly and darted about; Yichen shouted breathlessly, “Don’t run—stand still!”

　　Qing Nianli could not help laughing; the earlier awkwardness and anger dissolved into amusement. Jun Lintian shook his head with a look of tolerant fondness. “That Chen—always so reckless.”

　　He stepped forward toward the bird. Qing Nianli watched the chaotic scene with obvious delight, a bright smile curving her lips.

　　Back at home, Yichen’s mind still echoed with his master’s lessons on hospitality. Standing in the kitchen, he eyed the plump chicken with internal debate.

　　“Master said one must properly greet guests,” he muttered to the chicken. “If I slaughter you for a guest, will that be acceptable? But you’re not a rampaging beast—if I eat you, I’ll feel bad.”

　　The chicken cocked its head and resumed pecking the ground as if his words meant nothing. Yichen sighed. “Master’s teachings can’t be ignored. I suppose… I must eat you.”

　　At that instant the chicken seemed to take offense—flapping and bursting into frantic motion through the kitchen. Yichen gave chase, calling, “Stop, come back! We can still reason this out!” The bird ignored him, and Yichen’s harebrained attempts to seize it only made matters worse.

　　Though now a Nascent Soul cultivator, he remembered Jun Lintian’s rule: “At home, abide by mortal etiquette. Food and drink are part of cultivation; do not rely on techniques lightly.” The lesson was stamped on his heart. Thus, even amid his panic, he refused to use spirit arts to calm the bird. His soft nature only deepened his hesitancy; he feared harming the small creature, and so he fumbled and fared poorly.

　　In his frenzy he knocked over a pot; it crashed with a thunderous clang. He stumbled on a ladle that rolled away and narrowly kept from faceplanting. The chicken dove among the dish racks; plates and bowls cascaded, smashing in a shower of porcelain. Yichen swiveled and dodged through the debris, hair askew, clothes smeared with flour and soot, a ridiculous, bedraggled sight.

　　When the chicken bolted into the courtyard, Yichen gave chase, crying, “Hey—what are you doing? Let’s negotiate!” He chased it in a wild, graceless sprint until the sound of Jun Lintian and Qing Nianli’s arrival stalled him mid-stride. Heat of embarrassment flushed his face; he stopped, at a loss for words, and managed a sheepish, “Master—you're back?”

　　The bird took advantage of his fluster to sprint farther. Yichen looked helplessly from them to the runaway fowl and muttered, “What to do now…”

　　Jun Lintian sauntered toward the bird with a calm that belied intent. The chicken paid him no heed until Jun Lintian’s steps closed. At the critical moment he struck with a speed like lightning—his right hand darted out and, in one precise motion, seized the bird by the neck. The action was fluid and efficient, as if the whole deed were a single, ordinary breath.

　　“Master—how—so fast!” Yichen gaped, astonished.

　　Qing Nianli laughed again, her voice clear as a bell. “Jun Uncle is truly amazing—he caught the stubborn thing in one move.”

　　Jun Lintian smiled and handed the chicken to Yichen. “Now, get on with preparing it. No more mishaps.”

　　Yichen received it like a prize, his face alight with admiration. Yet his gentle heart balked. “Master—couldn’t we not eat this one? I really can’t bear it.”

　　Jun Lintian paused, surprised before he could answer. Qing Nianli watched Yichen’s kindly, almost pleading expression and felt warmth bloom; she smiled and said, “Jun Uncle, don’t worry. I’ll eat a little myself. No need to slaughter this one.”

　　Yichen protested at once: “That won’t do. We mustn’t fail at hospitality.”

　　Then an idea brightened his face. “Master—I thought of a better ingredient!” Without waiting he dashed off.

　　Jun Lintian watched him go with an indulgent smile. “This child—so kind in his heart.”

　　Qing Nianli nodded, smiling inwardly. He was indeed sweet and sincere, irresistible in his innocence. Jun Lintian’s affection for his disciple surfaced as well; he mused at the boy’s endless caprice and hoped this time Yichen’s new idea would not create further trouble.

　　They fell silent, each holding thoughts of the boy. Yichen’s footsteps receded, carrying his restless spirit across the yard, and the faint echo of those steps lingered in the evening air as their minds wandered gently outward.