“Go to the city for your birthday?” Mo Jian sounded surprised, though not disapprovingly so. The thoughtful note in his voice made Bai Ning cheer inwardly.

  “Yes,” she said brightly. “I’ve heard in some places, people celebrate their birthdays every year by exchanging gifts, food, or liquor, or by holding small festivities to mark the passage of time. I just want to try something similar, after these last couple of months. A little appreciation for all my hard work. Surely you wouldn’t deny me that?” She batted her lashes at him with exaggerated innocence.

  Mo Jian rolled his eyes. “If you’ve got that much free time, Bai Ning, then your cultivation schedule clearly isn’t rigorous enough.”

  It was an old habit, that dry admonishment, spoken more from reflex than reproach. Bai Ning was already at the late stage of Foundation Establishment, a pace that left many senior cultivators trailing behind. If anything, she was progressing far faster than he could have ever dreamed of.

  She waved off his words with a flick of her hand. “Come on, Master. We can make a day of it. Didn’t you once say the purpose of long life is to enjoy it? We should learn from mortals and savor these little moments.”

  Mo Jian snorted. “Mortals also live far shorter lives than we do. Of course they treasure every day like a jewel.” He leaned back, arms crossing loosely. “Besides, I used to celebrate them too a long time ago. Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

  The mention of his former life on Earth slipped out before he could stop it. It had been a long time since he’d thought of it in that way, and longer still since he’d spoken of it aloud.

  Naturally, Bai Ning pounced on the detail like a cat catching a scent.

  “You used to? What was it like?” Her eyes lit with curiosity. “Now we definitely have to do it. I would’ve liked to celebrate yours too, but it’s still half a year away. So, we’ll just have to make do with mine.”

  She shook her head in mock despair, as if fate itself had conspired against her plans.

  Mo Jian regarded her for a long moment, then sighed in resignation. She was relentless when she set her mind to something, and he knew perfectly well he was already losing this battle.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “As long as you don’t drag me into whatever nonsense you’re planning, do what you want.”

  Three days later, he deeply regretted saying those words.

  They had come to Renminbi City, a famous destination in the Thousand Shattered Islands – better known as the City of Festivals. It was said that some grand celebration or another took place there every single day. The streets were strung with colorful square flags, and lanterns hung from every post in dazzling arrays, casting warm light over ancient bridges and quiet ponds.

  Each night, fireworks bloomed across the sky, qi-fueled sparks tracing beautiful and intricate patterns overhead, while small lotus candles were set adrift on canals and pools. The city itself was not great in size or architecture, but it was renowned for its vibrancy and unending cheer. Its people reflected that same spirit: every house was festooned with decorations, and every evening the locals would puppet a wooden dragon through the streets, its painted scales gleaming under lanternlight.

  None of that, however, was what Bai Ning had come for.

  “Where are we going?” Mo Jian asked, bewildered, as Bai Ning led him down a narrow side street toward a small shop tucked into the corner. She moved with such certainty that it was clear she had known of it beforehand.

  “Mother told me about it when we visited the sect last week,” Bai Ning said, eyeing the storefront as though it held the secrets of immortality. “She said I should stop by whenever I had the chance.”

  Mo Jian turned to regard the shop. It was a small wooden building, utterly unremarkable, giving no hint of what it sold. He glanced back at her. “And what exactly is it?”

  She smiled brightly. “A clothing store.”

  Ah.

  Mo Jian immediately began looking around for escape routes. Memories of the soul-numbing tedium that came with shopping rose up like ghosts from his past. It had been bad enough with his sister and her friends, and that one disastrous trip with his coworkers…

  “Well, have fun,” he said briskly, already backing toward a nearby stall selling tangyuan. “I’ll investigate the local cuisine in the meantime.”

  A crushing force clamped around his arm. Bai Ning, it seemed, had mastered physical enhancement through qi quite well, judging by how his arm felt locked in a vice.

  “My birthday, Master,” she said slowly, each word dripping with warning.

  Mo Jian sighed, shoulders slumping.

  “It’s your duty to accompany me inside and help me pick.”

  Which led, inevitably, to his current predicament.

  The inside of the little store wasn’t any better. It was small, cramped, and absolutely overflowing with clothes. Dresses hung from the rafters like colorful banners. Long rolls of fabric were stacked against the walls in precarious towers. Even the counter had been claimed by spools of thread, buttons, ribbons, and scraps of silk in every imaginable hue.

  Mo Jian took one look around and already felt trapped.

  The proprietress turned out to be a diminutive old woman who introduced herself as Madam Giu. She was singularly unimpressed by Mo Jian’s late-stage Core Formation cultivation – her sharp gaze swept over him once and promptly dismissed him – but she softened almost immediately when Bai Ning began chatting her ears off.

  Within minutes, the two were deep in animated conversation about fabric quality, embroidery patterns, the latest trends from the capital, and the spiritual properties of certain types of silk. The speed at which Bai Ning could switch from teasing disciple to social butterfly was something to behold.

  Once, Mo Jian had made the mistake of trying to interrupt and move things along. Madam Giu had turned her glare on him, the kind that could freeze a man in place, and the look had been exactly like the one his mother used to give him back on Earth. He shut up on instinct.

  That had been two hours ago.

  Now he sat on a narrow bench, surrounded by mountains of discarded cloth, watching Bai Ning emerge from behind a curtain in yet another outfit. He had long since lost track of how many.

  “What do you think of this one?” she asked, spinning in a circle. The dress was a soft pale gold that shimmered faintly under the lantern light, trimmed with delicate cloud patterns along the sleeves.

  “It’s... nice,” he said carefully, because he had learned through hard experience that there was no safe alternative answer.

  She frowned slightly. “Just nice? I was going for elegant but spirited.”

  “It’s very... elegantly spirited,” he corrected, deadpan.

  Bai Ning narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not even looking properly.”

  “I am. I’ve been looking properly for two hours now,” Mo Jian muttered under his breath.

  Madam Giu chuckled from behind the counter, clearly enjoying his suffering.

  Bai Ning, entirely unbothered, disappeared back into the fitting room with another armful of dresses. The curtain swished shut behind her.

  Mo Jian leaned back against the wall, staring blankly at a ceiling draped in crimson silk. Even across worlds, few things matched the horror of clothes shopping. Cultivator shops were fine; those at least had weapons or talismans, but clothing? He shuddered. Just stepping into this store had been enough to start a headache.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  When Bai Ning emerged again, she looked very pleased with herself. Mo Jian looked up out of weary obligation, and then promptly choked.

  “What are you wearing?” His scandalized voice echoed through the store.

  She was wearing a cultivator’s robe, technically, but only in the loosest possible sense. The design clearly followed the latest fashion from the capital, which meant artfully placed gaps revealing bare shoulders, most of her arms, and far too much leg. What fabric there was clung close to her form, more tailored and daring than her usual attire. It wasn’t indecent exactly... but it certainly wasn’t her usual look either.

  Bai Ning tossed her hair over one shoulder and smiled, walking forward with deliberate poise. “It’s fashionable. And you looked bored.”

  Mo Jian immediately turned his gaze to the far wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely not. I forbid it-”

  Madam Giu cleared her throat, and Mo Jian switched tracks mid-sentence without missing a beat.

  “-which is what your mother would say. Pick something else.”

  Bai Ning harrumphed, but the satisfied sparkle in her eyes betrayed her victory. She’d achieved her goal – provoking a reaction – and with a pleased little huff, she flounced back behind the curtain.

  A minute of peace passed before her voice floated out again. “Oh, this looks nice.”

  Mo Jian immediately made up his mind: whatever she came out wearing next, he would praise it to the heavens, as long as it wasn’t anything like her last choice. Anything to finally leave this shop.

  When Bai Ning emerged, she wore a black-and-gold ensemble. The top was layered black robes embroidered with fine golden thread, while the lower half was a long, ankle-length golden skirt. It was far from traditional cultivator attire, yet it didn’t look bad at all. In fact, it reminded Mo Jian of the professional women from his last life: poised, elegant, and commanding. A modern CEO in a world of swords and spirit beasts.

  Even the colors suited her perfectly.

  “I like this one,” she said, twirling once, entirely ignoring him.

  Madam Giu gave a slow, approving nod, and Mo Jian nearly wept. If she was going to choose on her own anyway, why had he been dragged along in the first place?

  “It’s an old style,” Madam Giu said as she shuffled over to adjust the hem. “Went out of fashion with the last empress; she was fond of it. Came from chiffon’s, foreign designs. Seamstresses in the empire adapted the qipao to match the look. Still holds up, I’d say.”

  Bai Ning beamed at her reflection. “Hmm. Something’s missing, though.”

  Madam Giu didn’t miss a beat. With a flick of qi, she produced two black-and-gold hairpins, deftly twisting Bai Ning’s hair into a sleek knot and sliding the pins through. “There,” she said gruffly, brushing her hands dry.

  Bai Ning turned this way and that before the mirror, admiring the result from every angle. Finally, she glanced back at Mo Jian.

  “Well, Master? What do you think?”

  He seized the opportunity. “We’ve clearly found a winner. I doubt there’s anything better. Here’s the payment.”

  Before she could say another word, he tossed a pouch of spirit stones toward Madam Giu and began ushering Bai Ning toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Bai Ning, of course, slipped easily out of his grip. She turned back to Madam Giu and bowed politely. “I’d like five more sets in similar colors, please. Can I pick them up in the morning?”

  Madam Giu waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. Go, enjoy your night. The city has much to offer. Come by in the morning.”

  Then she fixed Mo Jian with a pointed look. “You can pay then.”

  He would have protested the harshness of that look, but frankly, he’d take it if it meant leaving. He could already tell Madam Giu and Bai Ning had silently joined forces against him. So, instead of arguing, he inclined his head and followed Bai Ning out of the shop.

  The evening air hit him like a balm. After the claustrophobic little store, Renminbi City felt almost intoxicating in its vibrancy. Lanterns in every color hung above the streets, casting rippling hues across the cobblestones. The scent of sweet pastries and roasting chestnuts drifted on the air, mingling with the faint tang of incense from nearby shrines. Music echoed from somewhere deeper in the city, a cheerful tune played on bamboo flutes and gongs.

  Bai Ning’s mood brightened immediately. She clasped her hands behind her back and strolled forward with unrestrained delight, her golden skirt catching the lantern light with every step. “Isn’t this wonderful, Master? Look at the lights! It’s like the whole city’s celebrating with me.”

  “The whole city’s always celebrating,” Mo Jian muttered, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward despite himself.

  Bai Ning stopped at a stall selling candied hawthorn skewers. “Two, please!” she chirped, pressing a few spirit stones into the vendor’s hand before Mo Jian could stop her. She handed him one, smiling slyly. “You can’t scold me for this. It’s my birthday.”

  He accepted it with a resigned sigh, taking a small bite. The candy glaze cracked delicately between his teeth, sweet and sharp all at once. Warm and delicious.

  They wandered through the bustling streets together. Acrobats performed along a bridge, their movements enhanced by faint ripples of qi. Children ran past carrying paper lanterns shaped like rabbits and phoenixes. At the edge of a pond, a group of girls released floating lotus candles into the water, their reflections dancing like tiny stars.

  Mo Jian didn’t hurry her along. Bai Ning moved from stall to stall, eyes wide and curious, exclaiming over every new sight. She was glowing beneath the lanterns, laughter echoing softly as she tried sugar-dusted pastries, admired trinkets, and nearly dragged him into a street performance.

  When she finally paused by the water’s edge, she glanced over her shoulder, a faint, thoughtful smile curving her lips. “You know,” she said quietly, “I think I finally understand why you always say cultivators need to make time for mortal things like this. No wonder so many of them turn cold if they forget how to live.”

  Mo Jian followed her gaze across the pond, where floating candles bobbed gently like drifting souls. “Not always like this,” he said softly. “But yes. It doesn’t do to shut yourself away and forget what living feels like. Our lives burn slowly, and it’s easy to mistake that for the fire having gone out.”

  Bai Ning turned toward him, a little surprised by the tenderness in his voice.

  Then, with characteristic mischief, she bumped his arm lightly. “That was almost poetic, Master. Are you feeling sentimental?”

  He gave a quiet laugh. “Just thinking. After your training’s done, I think this is what I’ll do. Travel the world and experience all its wonders. It’s vast and strange, and even my lifespan probably won’t be enough to see it all.”

  Bai Ning’s smile faded. She turned her gaze back to the lantern-lit water. “I see,” she murmured. “And where am I in these grand plans of yours?”

  Mo Jian blinked, caught off guard. The true answer: with the hero, saving the world, wasn’t one he could say aloud. So, he settled for the safer truth. “Living your life, I imagine. The way you want.”

  Instead of looking pleased, Bai Ning frowned. Her expression hardened with quiet resolve.

  “What?” he asked defensively.

  “For all your wisdom, Master,” she said, arms crossing, “sometimes you can be absolutely dumb.”

  Before he could reply, she lifted her chin, eyes glinting in the lantern light. “Well, I declare that dream of yours is never going to happen.”

  Mo Jian blinked, nonplussed. “...What?”

  Bai Ning smiled then, not the teasing grin of before, but something softer, more certain. “Because wherever you go, Master, I’ll be there too. And I imagine a whole lot of other people as well. After all, there is no point in being alone when you can be with friends, and someone has to make sure you don’t forget to actually live while you’re busy wandering the world.”

  And before he could find an answer, she turned away briskly. “All right, I think it’s time for dinner. What do you say we try that little place by the corner?”

  Mo Jian blinked at the sudden change in topic, torn between amusement and exasperation. He considered saying something about her declaration, about how impossible that future would be, but in the end, he let it go. He knew what was coming, what the path ahead looked like. Bai Ning didn’t. She would see soon enough.

  Instead, he turned toward the eatery she’d pointed out and shook his head firmly. Shopping might give him a headache, but finding good food was one of the few earthly pleasures he took pride in.

  “No,” he said with conviction. “Not that one. We passed another shop a while back, the one with the little brass compasses hanging from the eaves. Let’s go there. I have a good feeling about it.”

  Bai Ning arched a brow. “A good feeling, or is your stomach leading the way, Master?”

  He harrumphed, drawing himself up. “Cease your insolence, ungrateful disciple. There’s nothing wrong with my stomach.” Still, he subtly sucked it in a bit, old pride pricked by her teasing.

  Bai Ning’s laughter rang bright in the evening air. “Don’t worry, Master. I’m just teasing. I like how you look, round and sturdy, like your ding.”

  Mo Jian choked. “I-what-!?”

  But she was already darting ahead through the crowd, victory sparkling in her eyes. He followed, muttering under his breath. He did not look like a ding. That was pure slander.

  The shop he’d remembered turned out to be a small, welcoming place nestled between two lantern stalls. Its windows glowed with warm light, and the scent of sizzling spices wafted out into the street.

  Inside, it was cozy and unpretentious, with wooden beams darkened with age, round tables polished smooth, and the soft, rhythmic beat of a fish drum hovering in the corner, weaving a gentle melody through the air.

  Bai Ning enthusiastically ordered a bit of everything, cheerfully informing the grizzled shopkeeper that it was her birthday. The old man gave her a bemused, tolerant look, then began bringing out plate after plate of steaming dishes. There were dumplings glistening with broth, crisp lotus-root fritters, spicy stir-fried noodles, and a fragrant soup that filled the room with warmth.

  Mo Jian had no idea why the place was empty; everything tasted wonderful. Bai Ning dove in with bright eyes, happily sampling each dish.

  “You have to try this one,” she said, pushing a plate toward him. “And this-oh, and this! It’s even better than that elk we had in Blackrock City, and that was slathered over with spirit herbs.”

  They ate as the night deepened, the city outside glowing with the reflection of a thousand lanterns. When the first fireworks cracked across the sky, the shopkeeper leaned out of the doorway to watch.

  Bai Ning’s gaze followed the shimmering trails of light as they blossomed into gold and silver. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, resting her chin on her hands.

  She smiled softly, “That’s why I chase immortality. If, as cultivators with limited lives, we can create moments this bright… then imagine what it would be like to have endless time. Wouldn’t every day be full of light and joy?”

  Mo Jian watched her face in the shifting glow – the spark of wonder, the quiet awe – and decided not to shatter it. It wasn’t that she was ignorant of the world’s ugliness; her words were more a wish than a truth. A hope she wanted to believe in.

  Outside, a cascade of red light arced over the pond, scattering into ripples of gold.

  Mo Jian lifted his cup of spirit wine. “Happy birthday, Bai Ning.”

  Her smile softened. “Thank you, Master.”

  Another firework burst across the sky as she raised her cup and gently clinked it against his.