Chapter 38: Reclaiming Her Beauty

Shen Qianmo closed her eyes, struggling to restrain her emotions on the verge of erupting. It was not that she feared those earthworms—after all, as a forensic doctor, she was unfazed by even the maggots on corpses, let alone these wriggling creatures. What she truly could no longer endure was the people of the Wuji Sect; not a single one of them seemed normal.

Her expression unchanged, she flicked off the earthworms crawling over her clothes one by one, took a deep breath, and said coldly, “Have you made enough of a scene yet?”

Did they truly think she was a docile kitten just because she hadn’t shown her claws?

Wuhen and Wuxia were both rather surprised to see Shen Qianmo so composed. Especially Wuxia—being Master Duan’s disciple, she had suffered no shortage of his pranks and had been frightened into shrieking and terror countless times. Yet this pampered young lady, raised in luxury, remained so calm in the face of these repulsive earthworms—it was simply inconceivable. She herself had once lost her appetite for two days because of them.

Master Duan was a rotund old man, his hair and beard already flecked with white. His eyes shone with anticipation; he had been looking forward to the scene where Shen Qianmo would be frightened into screaming. To his disappointment, the girl’s face did not change in the slightest; she did not even frown.

His pride bruised, he scolded with a sullen face, “Who is this girl? Not entertaining at all.”

Wuhen glanced at him awkwardly and replied, “The Sect Leader instructed that Hall Master Duan should properly look after this young lady, and within half a month, make her presentable.”

Wuhen swore he was only the messenger, repeating the Sect Leader’s words verbatim.

Hearing this, Master Duan’s moustache bristled with anger. “What trick is that brat trying to play now? No, absolutely not, I refuse. Besides, this girl is not the least bit likable. I have no desire to look at her every day. Out, out!”

Before his words had faded, Master Duan had darted into his wooden hut. No matter how Wuhen and Wuxia called from outside, he did not emerge.

The two exchanged helpless glances. Wuhen took a deep breath and said, “The Sect Leader’s orders have been delivered. As for what to do, that’s Hall Master Duan’s concern. I shall take my leave.”

That old fool could amuse himself if he wished; Wuhen would not accompany him. With that, he turned and left.

Wuxia called softly, “Master,” several times from outside. Receiving no response, she too left in annoyance, but not before shooting Shen Qianmo a fierce glare.

Shen Qianmo was baffled. Wuxia seemed to have a deep-seated animosity toward her, yet she couldn’t recall ever offending her. Or was it because she had exposed Wuxia’s impersonation at Huayue Palace that last time, leading to this grudge?

But what was the situation now? As a hostage, first the alluring Sect Leader disliked her, and now this old man wanted nothing to do with her either. Was she really so unlikable? She tilted her head to the sky in speechless exasperation.

A rumble sounded from Shen Qianmo’s stomach, and she soothed it with a gentle touch, trying to quell its protest. She had not eaten properly since boarding the boat, and now, filling her belly seemed the most urgent matter.

She searched room by room along the wooden corridor, only to find no kitchen or anything like it. Did this old man live like an immortal, untouched by mortal needs?

Left with no choice, she headed for the nearby creek. The water ran clear and cool, and many small fish darted playfully about.

Shen Qianmo broke off a tree branch, sharpened one end with her dissecting knife, took off her shoes, lifted her skirt, and waded into the stream. With quick and precise movements, she speared five or six fish in no time.

Satisfied, she built a makeshift fire by the creek. She’d found fire starters in one of the huts earlier, which now proved invaluable—otherwise, she would have had to resort to rubbing sticks together like in ancient times.

Efficiently, Shen Qianmo scaled and gutted the fish, skewered them on branches, and set them to roast over the flames. Soon, the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of cooking fish. The smell made her stomach growl even louder; she swallowed hungrily.

What Shen Qianmo didn’t know was that she wasn’t the only one drooling over the food. Master Duan stood at his window, watching her roast fish with great interest—or, more precisely, staring at the fish in her hands with glowing eyes and an uncontrollable urge to swallow.

For Master Duan, all could be forsaken for the sake of good food. He had few hobbies in life and cared only for culinary delights. Unfortunately, this lonely island offered little in the way of delicacies. Too lazy to cook and eccentric by nature, he had long since driven away any attendants with his mischief.

It had been ages since he’d smelled anything as mouthwatering as this. Licking his dry lips, he appeared beside Shen Qianmo in a blink, his eyes fixed on the golden, fragrant fish roasting over the fire. He wiped the drool from his mouth, blinked at her, and gazed at her with puppy-like anticipation.

“Girl, you really know how to roast a fish. Could I have a taste?”

Shen Qianmo glanced up at him, amused. The old man was as mischievous as a child, capricious and pure-hearted—rather endearing, actually. She put on a stern face and said, “Didn’t Hall Master Duan just say you didn’t want to see me? Why are you here now?”

Master Duan’s gaze never left the fish. He waved her off nonchalantly, “That was then, this is now. Surely you’re not that petty, are you?”

Shen Qianmo snorted, pointing at the creek. “If you want to eat, catch them yourself.” Free food? As if it were that easy.

“Fine, fine, I’ll catch the fish, you roast them. Deal!” Master Duan agreed repeatedly, sprang to his feet, and splashed into the stream. With surprising skill, he caught fish with his bare hands, impressing Shen Qianmo.

Soon, he returned triumphantly with a pile of wriggling fish, presenting them to her as if offering treasure. “How’s this, girl? Enough?”

Shen Qianmo looked at the lively fish on the ground and at the old man’s hopeful face, and could barely keep from laughing. She shared half of the roasted fish with him, then sat down herself to eat. The pure, natural flavor was truly exquisite.

Master Duan grinned from ear to ear as he accepted the fish, sat on the ground beside her, and praised her grilling skills between bites, eating with utter satisfaction.

“Oh, right. Why did that Yin Zhan boy send you to me again?” he asked as they ate their fish in the hut, Master Duan sipping fine wine from his gourd, relaxed enough to remember business.

Surely not for me to roast fish for you? Shen Qianmo glanced at his contented face, picked up her teacup, and replied, “Probably the same reason—you both find me unpresentable.”

So the alluring Sect Leader’s name was Yin Zhan.

Master Duan slapped his thigh. “That’s right, Wuhen said earlier that I’m to make you presentable within half a month. But with your appearance…” He scrutinized her face, then shook his head. “Half a month is a bit of a stretch.”

He paused, then continued, “Still, since you grilled fish for me, I suppose I’ll do my best.”

Having been toughened by the Wuji Sect’s sharp-tongued critiques, Shen Qianmo merely raised an indifferent eyebrow and continued sipping her tea.

In truth, she was considering whether, since the alluring Sect Leader was so obsessed with cleanliness, she should worsen her own scars to completely foil his plans.

Yet this old man was undeniably skilled. After his treatments—both medicinal applications and internal remedies—her scars faded almost entirely within ten days, leaving her skin even fairer and smoother than before. Sometimes, gazing at her reflection in the creek, she could hardly believe such flawless beauty was her own.

As the ancients said, “skin as creamy as coagulated fat, delicate to the touch.” Shen Qianmo felt she had reached such a state.

Master Duan, growing prouder by the day as her face became ever more exquisite, declared that this was merely the most conservative treatment. For more severe disfigurement, he could even perform a skin graft, replacing part or all of one’s facial skin.

He could really graft a new face! The thought sent chills down Shen Qianmo’s spine, and she immediately abandoned the idea of deliberately disfiguring herself. If she ever were to do so, it would certainly not be under the roof of Baicao Hall; she had no wish to wear a face made from whatever dubious skin Master Duan might procure.