He Taught Me Honor and Shame, but I'm Just a Flower

On the first day after taking human form, I was found by a mortal gathering herbs and brought home.

He named me An’an, taught me to read and write, and cooked me porridge for the rest of my life. When the plague came, I slit my wrist and gave my blood to save people. But those I’d saved with my own hands raised torches and came to kill us.

He fell while shielding me, and the immortal mark between his brows began to glow. It turned out he was an immortal lord undergoing tribulation in the mortal realm. When his soul returned to the Immortal Realm, he lost his memories and became the cold, aloof immortal of the Tianshu Pavilion. And I became the most insignificant disciple under his tutelage.

He didn’t remember the mist on Spirit Mountain, the fragrance of rice porridge, or how he used to call me “silly child.” Yet when he saw me amid the heavenly flames, the first word out of his mouth was still “An’an.”

He taught me immortal arts, striking my palm with a bamboo ruler until it swelled purple. When I got hurt by being reckless, he gritted his teeth and whipped me, but his own eyes reddened first. After I won first place and grew arrogant, he confined me to my room to copy scriptures, yet left me a bowl of warm porridge that night. During the battle between immortals and demons, he was gravely wounded and fell unconscious, so I gave my blood to keep him alive. When he awoke, he ignored his own injuries and first pulled me over his knee to give me twenty strokes.

“What did you do wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have risked my life without thinking of myself.”

“And?”

“I was wrong to make you afraid again.”

A thousand years of cultivation, scoldings, punishments, and beatings: all of it was to help me grow into someone who could stand by his side.

My name is Jiang You’an. I’m a flower spirit. I have an older brother, who is also my master.

In this life, I’m sticking with him for good.