The wind picked up again.

Su Cheng stood on the balcony of the staff dormitory, phone in hand.

Twelfth floor. City lights spread out beneath him like a glowing river. Headlights stretched into red lines, flowing slowly across the elevated highway.

He checked the time—eleven forty-seven at night.

The moon hung above the pointed roof of the office building across the street. Round and bright.

This was the first time since coming down the mountain that Su Cheng had truly looked at the moon.

In his eighteen years on the mountain, he had seen countless moons—through the branches of the old locust tree outside the mountain gate, through the cracks of the training room windows, above the stone table where Master brewed tea.

Back then, the moon was just the moon.

Now he realized—the moon on the mountain and the moon in the city were not the same.

The mountain moon was still.

The city moon was loud.

He looked down at his phone.

In his contacts, the characters for "Master" lay quietly.

The call log above was still empty.

His thumb hovered above the screen. One centimeter.

A few rows lower were nine profile pictures lined up in a row—nine Senior Sisters.

He didn't scroll down.

He pressed dial.

Beep.

Once.

Beep.

Twice.

Bee—

Before the third ring finished, the other end picked up.

"Hello."

When that voice came through, Su Cheng's Adam's apple bobbed.

Old. But full of vigor.

Like an old pine tree on the mountain—rough bark, but the heart is alive.

"Master," he said.

"Mm."

Then silence.

Not awkward silence. The kind—you have a lot to say, but it all sits heavy in your chest, and you can't pick a single sentence to start with.

In the end, Master spoke first.

"Boy. You passed the first stage of your mortal trial."

Su Cheng said nothing.

"You did well."

Master's tone was light, as if commenting on decent weather. But Su Cheng knew Master never wasted words. When he said it was good, it was truly good.

"I know about the Zhao family boy."

Su Cheng's fingers tightened slightly.

Master knew?

A soft chuckle came through the phone—low, quiet, but Su Cheng heard it clearly.

"Your Senior Sisters' little moves. Did you really think you could hide them from this old man?"

Su Cheng's throat went tight.

"Second Senior Sister passed a message for you. That person called Zhao Zhenguo. You think I didn't know?"

"Fourth Senior Brother…"

"And Ling Yun, that boy—don't even get me started. Who pulled strings for his legal friends? Third Senior Sister owed that person a favor from years back. Perfect timing to repay it."

Su Cheng's grip on the phone grew tighter.

So that was how it was.

"Seventh Senior Sister helped too. Without her leaning on those editors-in-chief, do you think the Zhao Rui story would stay buried for three days? You think too simply."

"So…" Su Cheng's voice was hoarse. "From the beginning to the end, you knew."

"I knew."

Master's tone was as calm as the lake on the mountain.

"You thought I sent you down the mountain and would just let things go?"

Su Cheng lowered his eyes. The city night wind poured through his collar from outside the balcony, but he didn't feel cold.

"You passed all nine Senior Sisters' tests."

When Master said this, there was something in his voice—very faint, but Su Cheng caught it. Satisfaction.

"Their skills differ. Their temperaments vary. Some are cold, some are warm, some talk too much, some stay quiet. But you made them all willing to protect you on this path. That means these eighteen years were not wasted."

Su Cheng took a deep breath.

His eyes grew warm.

He tilted his head back, looking at the stars.

The city night sky wasn't as clear as the mountain's—the lights were too bright. He couldn't even make out the Big Dipper. But he still looked for a while.

"Master."

"Mm."

"I miss the water well on the mountain."

Master was silent for two seconds, then laughed.

The laughter was light, like wind through bamboo leaves. Su Cheng could almost picture Master standing at the mountain gate—white beard, old Daoist robe, that bamboo cane he never left behind.

"Brat. Does drinking bottled water in the city offend you?"

"No."

Su Cheng smiled too.

"The well water was sweet."

On the other end, Master didn't respond to that. After a moment, he said:

"But your own trial—you haven't passed it yet."

The smile on Su Cheng's face froze.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think?"

Master didn't answer directly.

Su Cheng was silent for a long time.

He remembered Seventh Senior Sister sitting beside him at dinner, serving him food. He remembered the message from Ninth Senior Sister—not a work handover, not a Senior Sister's advice. Just four characters: "Eaten yet?"

He remembered Third Senior Sister adjusting his collar at the airport.

He remembered Big Senior Sister handing him that glass of wine.

"You passed their tests," Master's voice was calm. "But how you feel about them—have you figured that out?"

Su Cheng said nothing.

He remembered many things.

He remembered when he was six, the night before Big Senior Sister went down the mountain. She crouched in front of him and tied his loose sash. Her movements were clumsy—she was only sixteen herself. When she finished, she looked at him and said, "Little Junior Brother. When Senior Sister comes back, I'll bring you something good to eat."

That bag of candy. He kept it for three years and couldn't bear to eat it.

He remembered when he was nine, running a fever. Burning through the night, half delirious. Second Senior Sister carried him on her back across three mountain ridges to find the only doctor in town. She lost one of her shoes along the way, stepping barefoot on gravel. By dawn, the soles of her feet were covered in cuts.

He remembered when he was twelve, hurting his wrist during sword practice. Third Senior Sister took leave from the aviation academy to come back. She couldn't cook, but she forced herself to make a pot of porridge—the rice was undercooked, the water too little, the bottom of the pot scorched black. Su Cheng ate three mouthfuls and smiled, saying it tasted good.

He remembered when he was fourteen, in autumn. Fourth Senior Brother taught him calligraphy. He couldn't write the character for "Dao" properly. She held his hand and guided him through it, thirty times. On the last stroke, the ink bled a little. She smiled and said, "This 'Dao' character—the walking radical at the bottom should be a bit wider to look good."

He remembered when he was sixteen, in summer. Fifth Senior Sister took him down the mountain to the market. Someone on the street bullied him for being young. Fifth Senior Sister stepped in front of him. One against three. When they got back, her face was bruised. But she smiled and pressed the candied haws she bought into his hands.

He remembered when he was seventeen, one night. He got lost on the back mountain. Sixth Senior Sister carried a paper lantern and searched all night. When she found him, the lantern had gone out. She guided him out of the woods by moonlight. She didn't say a word the whole way.

He remembered the day Seventh Senior Sister went down the mountain. She reached the mountain gate, then turned back. She took the peace pendant from her neck and hung it around his. She said, "This one keeps you safe. Senior Sister doesn't need it anymore."

He remembered every letter Eighth Senior Sister sent back—her handwriting crooked, but every single letter ended with the same line: "Little Junior Brother. Eat well."

He remembered Ninth Senior Sister. The youngest. Only three years older than him. In those first years on the mountain, she was the one who played with him every day. When they played hide and seek, she always let him find her on purpose. Then she'd act surprised: "Oh, you found me again."

Su Cheng's eyes suddenly ached.

He took a deep breath and pressed the emotions rising in his throat back down.

"Before you went down the mountain, I told you something. Do you remember?"

Master's voice came through suddenly. Very calm.

Su Cheng was startled.

"When you go out there, remember who you are."

"That was about outsiders." Master's voice deepened slightly. "But your Senior Sisters aren't outsiders. Just remember who they are."

Su Cheng held his phone, standing on the balcony.

The wind messed up his hair. He didn't reach up to fix it.

"Eighteen years," Master's voice softened suddenly. "They watched you grow up. You watched them each go down the mountain. There are some things you ought to figure out by now."

"Master, I…"

"Don't tell me." Master cut him off. "Just know it in your heart."

Another silence.

A few tall buildings on the distant skyline had lights on. Su Cheng looked at those lights and thought of the stars at night on the mountain.

"Your Senior Sisters—they care about you more than I thought."

Master spoke this sentence a bit slowly.

"But the things down the mountain are ultimately your own path. You walk it yourself."

"I understand."

"Do you really?"

Su Cheng thought for a long time.

"Not really. But I'll figure it out."

Master laughed again. This time it was short, but genuine.

"That's enough."

The other end was quiet for a few seconds.

"It's cold. Don't stand on the balcony too long."

Su Cheng paused.

"How did you know I was on the balcony…"

"Is the wind strong on the twelfth floor?"

Su Cheng froze.

Then he laughed.

"Master, did you put a tracker on me?"

"That broken phone of yours needs a tracker?"

Su Cheng laughed again.

He looked down at the screen—call duration: four minutes, seventeen seconds.

"Master, I…"

"Enough. Hanging up."

"Wait—"

"What else?"

Su Cheng opened his mouth.

Many words rose to his lips, then went back down.

In the end, he only said one thing:

"Thank you."

The other end was silent for two seconds.

"Brat."

Then the line went dead.

A new entry appeared on the call log.

Su Cheng held the phone in his palm. The screen light slowly faded.

He stood on the balcony for a long time.

The wind was strong. But he didn't want to go inside.

Eighteen years of memories rose up like a tide—chopping wood at dawn, practicing sword at dusk, sitting at the mountain gate at night, listening to Master tell those old stories he could never finish.

When each Senior Sister went down the mountain, Master stood behind him, hand on his shoulder. He said nothing. Just patted.

Back then, Su Cheng thought Master was afraid he would feel reluctant to let them go.

Now he understood—Master was afraid that he himself would feel reluctant.

The phone vibrated.

Su Cheng looked down.

Ninth Senior Sister's profile picture lit up with a message:

"Little Junior Brother, everyone's free tomorrow night. Big Sister booked a table."

Below it was a location pin for a private restaurant.

Su Cheng stared at it for a long time.

The screen light reflected on his face. City lights flickered behind him.

He typed a few words. Deleted them. Typed again. Deleted again.

In the end, he only replied with one character:

"Okay."

Then he locked the screen.

On the twelfth-floor balcony, he gazed at the city lights. Three months, and only one had passed.

But some things had already changed.

End of Chapter 7: Master's Call