Chapter 88 (1/2)
“You’re two hundred fifty years old, Azalea. I know your generation is all about waiting for the right person to come along, but don’t you think you should be more aggressive in your endeavors? At this rate, we’ll die before we see our grandchildren.”
Azalea’s expression darkened. She was in the Frostwind Empire’s capital, and of course, the first thing her parents did upon her return was lecture her about how she wasn’t getting any younger. At least they had stopped commenting on her appearance eighty years ago when more and more people began consuming titan flesh. Nowadays, muscular was the new beautiful—not that it was ever not beautiful. “I’m a Moon Lotus Sect disciple, Mom! You and Dad sent me there because it was an all-female sect, so you only have yourselves to blame for my singleness.”
Azalea’s mom sighed, and Azalea’s dad stroked his chin. “What about Vremya?” he asked. “Aren’t you interested in him? Speaking of which, is he attending the wine-brewing competition?”
“You always ask about Vremya,” Azalea said and glared at her father.
“Well, if you had any other men in your life, I’d ask about them too,” her father said and snorted. “You didn’t answer my question. Is he coming?” Over the years, Grandpa Vremya had produced less and less wine. If it wasn’t for Azalea bugging him, he wouldn’t even bother with selling wine. He could turn grapes into wine worth thousands of spirit stones, but the time it took wasn’t worth the effort. Would a billionaire stop his car in the middle of the street to pick up a hundred-dollar bill?
“He said he wasn’t going to come,” Azalea said. “The rewards aren’t enough to entice him anymore.”
“He shouldn’t do it for the rewards,” Azalea’s dad said and shook his head with a sigh. “He should come for the wine. As a master wine brewer, shouldn’t he enjoy an atmosphere like the one at the competition?”
Azalea wasn’t sure if she should tell her dad about Grandpa Vremya’s peculiar trait of having never eaten or drank anything. In the end, she decided against it. If she told her dad, he wouldn’t believe her; after all, even soul-seed cultivators had eaten food when they were younger. “If you want him to make you some wine, you could try offering him some paintings of rivers.”
“Paintings of rivers?” Azalea’s dad asked. “What is he? Some kind of river spirit?”
“Of course not…,” Azalea said, her voice trailing off by the second word. Could it be? Was Grandpa Vremya interested in rivers because he was actually a spirit born from a river? No, it couldn’t be. People who were interested in modifying carriages weren’t carriage spirits. People who were interested in collecting stamps weren’t stamp spirits. The fondness for rivers was just an odd peculiarity of Grandpa Vremya’s, nothing else. “Anyway, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be returning to my room.”
“Wait,” Azalea’s father said. “Take these with you.” He passed her a jade box.
Azalea raised an eyebrow, but she took the box. She opened it, and a strange scent leaked out. Inside, there were nine sticks of pink incense. “What’s this?”
“Aphrodisiacs,” Azalea’s father said with a straight face. “Your mother and I use them all the time to set the mood.”
“Gross,” Azalea said, making a gagging sound. “I didn’t need to hear that.” She froze. “Wait, why are you giving them to me?”
“You obviously need the help, sweetie,” Azalea’s mom said. “Isn’t Vremya staying here for the night? Those incense sticks work slowly, so you’ll want to light them soon.”
“Are you guys crazy?” Azalea asked, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. “You want me to drug an elder of the sect? Aren’t you afraid of the sect leader coming here to kill you in retaliation? She’s a terrifying woman, Mom, and she recently came out of seclusion.”
“We wouldn’t be the ones drugging him,” Azalea’s mom said with a smile, “you would. I don’t think you’d be punished as harshly, and Vremya seems like the type to take responsibility; he might not even report you.”