Cultivating Immortality Begins with Acting as a Girl Chapter 047

“Young Master Guo, you…”

Song Ling’s clear, autumn-like eyes stared blankly at Guo Yangzhai. After a moment, her expression grew somewhat complex as she said, “Young Master Guo, you are different from those other young masters from aristocratic families.”

Upon hearing this, Guo Yangzhai was ecstatic. He knew that his performance had won Song Ling’s favor.

Most importantly, he had established an image in her mind that he was different from others, and this was crucial.

However, Guo Yangzhai did not get carried away. He merely shook his head faintly. “Miss Yuling exaggerates. This Guo merely does what he ought to do, seeking only to be at peace with himself. Therefore, Miss Yuling need not decline. We still have to set off early tomorrow morning, so please rest early.”

After Guo Yangzhai finished speaking, as if to prove his resolve, he sat down on a chair and closed his eyes.

A moment later, Song Ling sighed softly:

“In that case, thank you, Young Master Guo.”

Then came a series of rustling sounds. When Guo Yangzhai opened his eyes again, he saw Song Ling already lying on the bed with her back to him, her dark hair scattered on the pillow. The moonlight, softened by the window paper, cast a gentle veil over the girl’s figure, like a serene painting.

An indescribable emotion surged within Guo Yangzhai. He secretly cautioned himself to remain calm and not disturb Song Ling’s rest.

After taking a deep breath, Guo Yangzhai gradually cleared his mind. Although he was in a desolate mountain village, he wasn’t nervous because Wei Peng was still guarding outside. Driven by the fatigue of a day’s travel, he quickly fell into a dream.

…

Unbeknownst to him, Song Ling also fell asleep at some point.

It was as if he was suddenly plummeting from a hundred meters high, the sensation of weightlessness making him snap open his eyes.

Before him was still the dilapidated house, but it wasn’t in Yukuai Village. Instead, it was in a house that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

“Here…”

Song Ling’s pupils contracted. This was actually the house his predecessor lived in when he was in Hongshi Village!

Outside, the wind was gentle and the sun was warm, as if time had stopped at a cozy afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the paper-covered window frames, dappling the wooden floor. The air was filled with a faint smell of firewood and the distant fragrance of flowers.

“A-Ling, how long are you going to sleep? Come help mother dry the rice!”

A gentle and familiar voice sounded from outside the house. It was the voice of Song Ling’s predecessor’s mother from his memories.

“A dream?!”

Song Ling sat up abruptly, his expression filled with surprise and uncertainty.

He lowered his head and found his body to be small, as if he had turned into a child. He reached out to touch the bed beneath him, and the rough texture felt extremely real. On the wall nearby hung a sickle, and on its handle were carved patterns that his predecessor had mischievously etched as a child.

Song Ling’s gaze flickered. He was absolutely certain that before he fell asleep, he was with Guo Yangzhai in a house in Yukuai Village.

And now…

As Song Ling pondered, his “mother’s” voice came again from outside:

“A-Ling, did you hear me? Mother is almost too busy by herself. Get up quickly and help mother.”

Song Ling’s expression was composed. He slowly got up and walked out of the room. The sunlight was dazzling, making him involuntarily squint his eyes.

In the courtyard, a woman dressed in coarse cloth was busy bending over. Her back perfectly overlapped with the image of Song Ling’s predecessor’s mother in his memories.

Hearing the movement behind her, the woman straightened up and turned around, a loving smile on her face. “A-Ling, you finally got up. Come quickly and help mother spread out the rice. The sun is perfect today; we need to dry it quickly, or it will rain tonight.”

Seeing the woman, Song Ling became even more convinced that this was not reality.

Because his predecessor’s parents had been killed by monsters attacking the village when he was ten years old.

Time could not flow backward.

The dead could not be resurrected.

“Could it be that I was pulled into an illusion by some monster that can affect the soul?”

Song Ling frowned in thought, completely ignoring the woman’s words in front of him.

“A-Ling, A-Ling?”

The woman walked up to Song Ling. Seeing his lack of response, she angrily pinched Song Ling’s ear and lifted him up.

“Hiss—”

A long-unfelt pain came, and Song Ling subconsciously wanted to push the woman away.

But he found that his strength had also become like that of a child, easily controlled by the woman.

“A-Ling, I see you’re becoming naughtier as you grow up. Not only do you not listen to your mother, but you even dare to push your mother?” The woman looked down at Song Ling, her beautiful face full of anger.

Looking at that familiar yet unfamiliar face so close, at this moment, Song Ling had a clear realization:

This was not entirely an illusion.

At least the pain was real.

So, if he died here, would his real self also die?

Song Ling’s expression changed. He quickly put on a wronged face, just as he remembered his predecessor doing, and said, “Mother, I was wrong. I won’t dare to do it again. I’ll go with you to dry the rice right now.”

Seeing this, the anger on the woman’s face dissipated somewhat. She let go of his hand and said, “Hmph, that’s more like it. Hurry up, get that winnowing basket over there, and let’s spread out the rice together.”

“Alright.”

Song Ling rubbed his reddened ear and, as instructed, picked up the winnowing basket from the corner. He walked over to the woman and started working with her.

The sunlight fell on the golden rice, reflecting dazzling light. The air was filled with the unique fragrance of rice. Song Ling worked diligently, while also rapidly thinking about how to escape this illusion.

“Panel?”

Song Ling called out to his golden finger panel in his mind, but there was no response.

His heart sank.

There were only two reasons for this situation: either the power that made him fall into the illusion was strong enough to affect his golden finger panel, or it was because his current body was not his own, and his soul was not his own. This was still an illusion, and therefore the system did not exist.

Compared to the first possibility, Song Ling leaned more towards the second.

Because if it were the first, it would be too despairing.

The golden finger panel was the foundation of his existence in this chaotic world. If there was truly a power that could transcend it, then what was the point of him even playing?

So, it could only be the second possibility, and it had to be the second possibility.

Song Ling composed himself, glanced at the woman who was diligently working, and asked:

“Mother, where’s Father?”

The woman gave Song Ling a strange look and said, “What’s wrong with you today, child? Didn’t I tell you yesterday? Your father is going to Zhang the blacksmith’s house by the old tree at the east end of the village today, to ask him to take you on as an apprentice.”

Upon hearing this, Song Ling froze.

He remembered clearly from his predecessor’s memories that he had followed his father to learn the Wind-Breaking Blade for several years but never got the hang of it. His father thought that his son, like himself, had poor martial arts talent, so he wanted him to learn blacksmithing from Zhang the blacksmith in the east of the village, so he would have a means of livelihood in addition to farming.

However, it was on this very day that a monster attacked Hongshi Village, resulting in the death of his predecessor’s parents.

Fortunately, there was a martial artist in the village at the time, which prevented greater casualties.

…

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Dear readers, Qingling has been frequently missing updates and not updating on time recently because of serious mental health issues. At least half of the twenty-four hours in a day are spent in anxiety and fear. I can only squeeze out time to write intermittently when I’m in a good state.

It’s truly, truly painful.

I am trying my best to adjust and hope to recover soon.

Thank you to all the readers who have been following.

I am truly grateful to you all.

Thank you.