At the Foot of Green Mountain: Schrodinger's Cultivation

He took out a cup and said to Zuo Su with a grin, "Junior Brother Zuo, let's have a drinking contest!"

Zuo Su looked at the cup, nodded, and reached out to take it.

The man pulled it back and blinked. "If... I mean, if you get drunk, you have to promise me one thing!"

Zuo Su smiled, too. "I can't get drunk."

"If!"

Zuo Su took the cup. "Fine."

At the foot of Qing Mountain, inside the Jinhun Tower, the two drank cup after cup. They had the waiter bring more wine so many times that they lost count.

At last, Zuo Su's mind began to grow hazy. He mumbled, "How could that be..."

The man proudly patted his spotless white clothes and smiled. "You said you couldn't get drunk, right?"

As he smiled, tears somehow began to slide down his cheeks.

"Right. If this were real, how could you get drunk?"

"If this were real, why would I still be dressed in a white robe?"

"If this were real... why would you still be here?"

"..."

His robes began turning black, bit by bit. He bent down and whispered into Zuo Su's ear, "Junior Brother Zuo, promise me we'll meet again."

Liu Shulin saw the man in a red crown and black robe, his chest wrapped in layers of bloodstained bandages, leaning at an angle against the magnificent throne. He was no longer the Saint of Talismans of the Second Dao, the Venerable Immortal Wenchang, whom he had once known.

Liu Shulin spoke:

"Master, Uncle Zheng has brewed lots of your favorite osmanthus wine."

"Master, the position of second elder of the Qing Mountain Sect is still being kept for you."

"Master, Martial Uncle Leader has invited the best flour chef in Huaiyou for you."

"Master... the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets has built a tomb for Uncle Zuo."

"Master... Uncle Zuo is gone. He can't come back..."

"Master, Uncle Zuo wouldn't want you to be like this, even from beyond the grave."

"Master, I'm sorry... Please, come back."

"Master, stop cultivating the Ghost Dao... It's not too late to return to the righteous path..."

"..."

He fell silent for a while, then said, "Get out."

Watching the chaos below the platform, he still held an ivory chopstick and tapped idly on a white porcelain bowl. He began to sing to himself:

"The world sees the spring flowers return. Who sees the people of the old home gone, the birds flown away?"

A group of heavily armored soldiers fell to their knees. "Your Majesty, there are too many soldiers from the Celestial Realm. Please retreat for now!"

"I alone climbed onto the high platform, and beckoned the Milky Way from ten thousand li away."

He kept singing, but set down his chopstick and picked up a brush to write: Get out. That's an order.

With his hands behind his back, he walked barefoot through the December snow. Ignoring the pleas of those kneeling, he walked against the crowd.

"Don't say the midnight silence is lonely. The old friends are gone, and only the empty tower remains."

"Don't ask why I guard this place. Spring comes to Changchun, willows turn green, and the ice melts away."

A celestial official above called out, "Why surrender?"

He stopped singing and narrowed his eyes, gazing at the spring snow before him. After a long while, he replied in song:

"How can you say we have no clothes? I will share my robe with you. The king is raising an army; let us repair our spears and arrows."

The celestial official asked again, "Then why won't you surrender?"

Hearing this, he grinned, his laughter growing more and more carefree, and answered, "Alas, my lord, do not be entangled with a soldier..."

The celestial official seemed to lose patience. An arrow surging with spiritual power shot toward his face. He didn't dodge. Listening to the terrifying whistle of the arrow cutting through the air, he spoke clearly:

"A soldier's love cannot be spoken of!"

A cool on the outside, goofy on the inside, seemingly gentle but secretly ruthless top

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A serious and diligent bottom who works hard, is bad with words, and is a little sly

Theme: A sweet little story with a plot.