Chapter Thirty: If Not Deceiving My Junior, Then Whom Should I Deceive?

Seriously? Are they really going to ignore me like this?

I am, after all, the one hundred and eighth generation disciple newly admitted to Lingyun Mountain. How is it that no one here seems to notice my existence? Isn’t my blue robe with black trim unusual enough to catch their eye? Every disciple coming and going here wears matching attire, and yet I—the newest disciple of the one hundred and eighth generation—stand out so starkly. It’s a blow to my self-esteem. Do they not see that I, Yu Ge, have a place among them?

I said to Pink-cheek, “My master already has so many robes, and yet you all are still making more for him. Why not make one for me instead? True, I’ve only just joined the sect, but that’s no reason to bully a newcomer. If I have to gather outside the Ziwei Palace with the others tomorrow morning, wearing this blue robe with black trim, won’t I be mocked as an oddity?”

Pink-cheek furrowed his tiny brows, replying in a small voice, “A few days ago, the sect leader’s robe faded and came unstitched. Yesterday, it was sent to the celestial realm for the immortal weavers to re-dye and embroider it with golden thread. It’s just now been repaired and brought back.”

“And what about mine?” I pressed. Zi Lian’s robe belongs to Zi Lian—this much I understand, so I wouldn’t try to take his. Still, I’d very much like a purple robe similar to his.

Pink-cheek shook his head, “Sister Caiwei, who weaves robes for the palace disciples, went off to the mortal world for amusement a few days ago. She should return by tomorrow morning. If you’re desperate to wear a robe like this, you could borrow one from a fellow uncle or junior.”

I felt a pang of disappointment. “So, you’re telling me I still don’t have a new robe, is that it?”

Pink-cheek lowered his face, mumbling a faint “um.”

“Well, all right. Since my master isn’t in the hall at the moment, I’ll accept the robe on his behalf. You may go for now—when he returns, I’ll hand it over to him.”

I reached out to take it, but Pink-cheek turned away, dodging me.

“What’s this? As the first disciple of the sect leader, do I not even have the right to fetch his robe?” Offended by his lack of trust, I spoke sharply.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he replied, shaking his head urgently, his little face flushing bright red.

Ah, what an adorable child. Seeing his cheeks turn rosy like a ripe peach, so sweet and bashful, my anger melted away.

He’s rather amusing, I thought. If I don’t tease him, it’s a wasted opportunity. An impish thought stirred in my heart, and I couldn’t resist pinching his chubby cheeks several times.

As I pinched, I complained, “Are you going to give it to me or not? I am your sect leader’s first disciple—how can you mistrust me so? Your attitude wounds me deeply.”

Reluctantly releasing his soft cheeks, I clutched my chest in exaggerated agony, my gaze mournful as I looked at him. “Though I long to wear that purple robe, no matter how much I desire it, I would never covet the sect leader’s own. Yet you, Pink-cheek, look at me as though I were some specter, full of suspicion. Truly, you’ve broken my heart.”

I continued to lament pitifully, casting reproachful eyes upon him. When I saw his two little eyes full of curiosity, I made my expression even more dramatic—so much so, it seemed the pain was tearing at my soul, breaking bones and wrenching guts.