Chapter Thirty-Five: The First Petals Unfurl

He was lost in a trance for quite a while.

When Feng Shang snapped back to himself, he shook his head vigorously, dispelling the vision that had overwhelmed him. A wave of shame welled up in his chest—he had been thinking about a young girl for far too long.

Goosebumps prickled across his skin.

Uneasy, he quickened his steps and pressed forward.

But then—whoosh!—barely had he walked a short distance, when two streaks of rainbow light arced through the sky from the distant horizon, appearing before him in the blink of an eye. One was elegant and refined, the other radiant in white, pure as freshly fallen snow; it was none other than Fan Zhuhua and the Dance Goddess.

"You two?"

Feng Shang frowned, scrutinizing the pair who had arrived together. Two great beauties, each graced with her own charm, their presence amid the blooming sea of flowers was an exquisite sight.

Dance Goddess's starry eyes sparkled; the moment she saw Feng Shang, her delicate face broke into a sly, lively grin. Fan Zhuhua, by contrast, wore a look of quiet contemplation.

"Young Master Feng, you wander the world—where have you come from, and where are you headed?" Dance Goddess asked with a playful smile.

Feng Shang’s expression stiffened. He remembered their agreement—one Ancient Seed in exchange for a celestial blossom. Yet now, he had none left. Not only had he returned all of them to Jiumeng, but even the one he’d tricked from the Nine-Tailed Spirit had been lost.

"Just wandering," Feng Shang replied, his tone less than cordial.

Dance Goddess’s lips curled in amusement; sensing his foul mood, she guessed he must have suffered a loss at the hands of the Nine-Tailed Spirit and was too proud to admit it.

"The Nine Elders are at World Mountain and have asked you to watch the forging of a star," Fan Zhuhua said, her voice clear as spring water. Her eyes, gleaming with divine light etched with mystic runes, studied Feng Shang intently, searching for any sign of injury—but finding none.

"Forging stars? I’m not going," replied Feng Shang, refusing without hesitation.

The old man, whenever he was idle, loved nothing more than to drag him along to watch the forging of stars, droning on endlessly about the myriad techniques, boasting and showing off incessantly. It was enough to wear holes in one’s ears—he’d had enough.

"If you don’t wish to go, then don’t," Dance Goddess replied lightly. "There are many interesting corners in this flower sea. How about visiting my Heavenly Snow Peak? There, too, grows a celestial blossom—the Twelfth-Grade Celestial White Lotus, even rarer than the Undying Nether Flower."

She invited him with a luminous smile, her bright eyes and delicate brows almost unnaturally beautiful, though she made no attempt to force him. The Nine Elders had made it clear: if Feng Shang refused, he was under no obligation to go.

Her curiosity was piqued—what was it about Feng Shang, aside from his origins, that drew Fan Zhuhua’s attention?

So she extended an invitation, bidding him to a place no man had ever set foot before—her Heavenly Snow Peak.

Feng Shang hesitated. "Are you giving me the celestial blossom?"

Dance Goddess fell silent.

"Heavenly Snow Peak is where I cultivate in seclusion," she said at last. "On a cliff there hang the portraits of several generations of Flower Masters—like Master Li, whose divine poise is said to be the most graceful in all the cosmos."

"The star forging will take at least another half month. Rather than idling about, why not come to my place?" Her eyes shimmered, deftly steering the conversation away from the celestial blossom and toward the attractions of her domain.

"Master Li," Feng Shang’s interest sparked at the name.

"Come to my Bamboo Sea. I have something to ask you," Fan Zhuhua said, her lips parting with effortless composure.

At this, Dance Goddess’s eyes widened in amazement.

She hadn’t expected Fan Zhuhua to speak up—was she inviting a man as a guest? Well, not quite a man, but a youth. Still—why?

Since when had she become so hospitable? She herself had never received such an invitation.

Feng Shang was taken aback, glancing between Dance Goddess’s look of surprise and envy and Fan Zhuhua’s serene reserve. Caught between the invitations of two deities, he hesitated—declining either would seem ungracious, and judging by their subtle rivalry, choosing only one might even risk their friendship.

He coughed lightly and, striving to offend neither, suggested, "Then let’s visit Dance Goddess first—after admiring the Flower Masters’ portraits, I’ll go to—"

"Come to mine first," Fan Zhuhua interrupted, her tone calm and unyielding, cutting off Dance Goddess’s protest. "I’ll send him to you later."

"I…" Dance Goddess was lost for words.

Without waiting for agreement, and as though fearing Dance Goddess would object, Fan Zhuhua reached out her slender, jade-like hand and took hold of Feng Shang, and in the next instant, both vanished in a streak of rainbow light.

"My heavens…" Dance Goddess clutched her smooth forehead, watching the trailing arc of light as they vanished, her exquisite face twisted in disbelief.

She had long considered Fan Zhuhua unusual, but this—this was beyond anything she’d ever expected.

Were it not for their long acquaintance, and her knowledge of Fan Zhuhua’s temperament, she might have suspected that beneath that icy goddess exterior was a hidden side altogether.

…

"Where is your Bamboo Sea?"

High in the celestial winds, Feng Shang was whisked along by Fan Zhuhua, her delicate hand still clasped in his. Holding the hand of the most beautiful goddess of the flower sea, he was more than content.

Her hand was slender and fair, flawless as carved jade. He’d held Little Phoenix’s hand before—it was pleasant, but still a touch childish. Fan Zhuhua’s, by contrast, was the perfect blend of maturity and silken softness; even the faint chill enhanced its allure.

"We’re here," Fan Zhuhua announced.

In a few heartbeats, the vast flower sea was left behind.

From afar, verdant bamboo stretched across the mountains, lush and vibrant, dotted with elegant cottages. Tall bamboo stood sentinel along the paths, while a crystalline spring bubbled from the heart of the bamboo grove, shrouded in thick, ethereal mist—a true immortal’s retreat.

Feng Shang looked out and caught sight of rare varieties in the distance—Black Crystal Bamboo, Amethyst Bamboo—though these were far removed from this sea of green, where a single hue prevailed.

"Sit," Fan Zhuhua said.

She led Feng Shang to a small courtyard beside a bamboo cottage. In the yard stood a white stone table, circled by three square stools. A tea set lay atop the table, dusted with dew and frost—clearly seldom used for guests.

Feng Shang surveyed the surroundings, finding it all novel and refreshing.

Tranquil and refined, the simple furnishings nourished both heart and mind—a perfect mirror of the owner’s spirit.

"You met her, didn’t you?"

Fan Zhuhua’s tone was placid. As she spoke, the crystalline spring surged from the void, pouring into two jade-white cups to steep the fresh green tea leaves she had just placed inside. Wisps of steam curled upward.

"Who?" Feng Shang, his attention caught by her tea-making, stared intently, asking without thinking.

"Your right hand carries a strong fragrance. Over time, it will attract the covetousness of spirits—extremely dangerous," Fan Zhuhua said, her gaze serene. As the tea leaves shifted from green to gold, their aroma mingled with the crisp air, filling the heart with peace.

"You can tell?" Feng Shang started, frowning as his gaze slid to his right hand—that hand was veiled by Uncle E’s innate Azure Calamity breath, and yet she could see through it.

"I can," Fan Zhuhua nodded.

"That petal—is it truly extraordinary?" Feng Shang was shaken. At first, he hadn’t taken Uncle E’s words seriously—he thought the old man was merely being dramatic, playing tricks to amuse himself.

But now, judging by Fan Zhuhua’s tone, the petal the maiden had given him was no ordinary token.

"I believe it is the first petal of the initial bloom," Fan Zhuhua replied with a trace of complexity in her voice.