A reincarnated girl, who begins by possessing a cultivator.

Su Chun was genuinely happy for her and gave her a silver hairpin with a phoenix spreading its wings, which she had personally carved, as a congratulatory gift.

Seeing Xiao Cui wearing a bright red wedding dress and being carried away in a bridal sedan chair with a shy yet happy smile on her face, Su Chun felt a strange sensation in her heart.

Gradually, the young women who used to frequent the shop got married one by one, and some had children. When they came to the shop again, they were holding babies who were just learning to speak. The topics of conversation changed from cosmetics to daily necessities and parenting tips.

They would still come to Linlang Xiaozhu to buy some jewelry and fabrics and chat with Su Chun, only now they addressed her as "Boss Su" instead of "Sister Su".

People started enthusiastically introducing potential partners to Su Chun.

"Boss Su, what do you think of that Scholar Li from the next street? He's handsome, well-educated, and reasonable. He's just a bit poor, but he's a really good person."

Aunt Wang, carrying the meat she had just bought, strolled around the store, speaking warmly.

Su Chun was polishing a jade hairpin when she heard this. She looked up and smiled, "Thank you for your kindness, Aunt Wang, but I have no plans to get married for the time being."

"Oh dear, Mr. Su, you're not getting any younger. You should start thinking about this. A woman needs someone to rely on."

Aunt Wang persisted.

Su Chun simply smiled and politely declined.

She would occasionally agree to meet the people she was introduced to, purely out of a sense of fun.

There were honest farmers, somewhat famous painters, and even a minor official who supposedly had some connections.

She observed these men of different identities and personalities as if watching a play, and always found a suitable reason to refuse them.

Sometimes she said it was because of personality clashes, sometimes it was because of a bad feeling. After a while, everyone gradually realized that Boss Su probably really didn't want to get married, so fewer people introduced her to potential partners.

Su Chun continued to guard her exquisite little house, watching spring turn to autumn and flowers bloom and fade.

Another five years have passed.

At this moment, Su Chun was clearly much older, because she had not deliberately used her powers to maintain her youthful appearance. Naturally, she looked different from before as she was in her thirties.

Su Chun had begun to get used to her married sisters calling her Sister Su, while their children timidly called her Aunt Su.

Her state of mind became increasingly peaceful.

But in these five years, she has witnessed even more births, aging, illnesses, and deaths.

Aunt Wang, who had once introduced her to a potential partner, fell ill and passed away not long after her son lost money in business.

Su Chun went to see Aunt Wang off on her final journey. Looking at Aunt Wang's emaciated appearance, she felt a profound sense of death for the first time.

That wasn't the tragic death of cultivators in a battle, but rather the helplessness and sorrow of life naturally coming to an end.

In her middle age, she stopped referring to herself as "this humble servant" and started referring to herself as "this concubine." This was because some older women, even if they were not married, referred to themselves in this way. Yun Chu used to refer to herself in this way, and this self-reference was the most common among female cultivators in the cultivation world.

Chapter 152 Rebirth

In the blink of an eye, Su Chun has lived in Tianxing City for nearly twenty years.

Her elegant little house is still open, only it's a bit bigger than before, and she's hired a quick and efficient young girl to help manage it.

She herself mostly sat by the window, watching the bustling crowds on the street, her eyes calm and serene. At this time, she looked to be in her forties, but she was still beautiful, only more charming.

Those young women of yesteryear are now mostly middle-aged, and their children have grown up and are beginning to repeat the lives of their parents: studying, working, getting married, and having children.

When they come to the store again, they hold Su Chun's hand, lamenting how time flies, and say, "Boss Su, how come you're still so beautiful?"

Su Chun simply smiled faintly.

"I just have a good attitude. If you had a better attitude, you would probably age more slowly."

By this time, no one was introducing her to any potential partners anymore.

Everyone seemed to accept that she would continue like this.

Another twenty years passed quickly, and Su Chun entered old age. Many wrinkles appeared on her beautiful face, and her hair began to turn gray.

She began to imitate the older women, referring to herself as "this old woman."

More than forty years have passed, yet her state of mind seems to have traversed a long period of time.

She watched as familiar faces disappeared one by one, some from illness, some from old age, and some from accidents.

The steamed bun shop next door has a new owner, and the flower stall at the end of the street has also changed hands.

At first, Su Chun felt a sense of loss and sadness every time she lost someone she knew.

But gradually, she became numb.

It's not that I've become indifferent, but rather that I've learned to accept it. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are the natural order of things in the mortal world, just like the rising and setting of the sun and moon, the blooming and withering of flowers—irreversible.

She even started to proactively help elderly people who were nearing the end of their lives, listening to them recount their life stories, combing their hair one last time, or giving them a small trinket they liked when they were young.

In this process, she gained a deeper understanding of life.

That day, Su Chun sat by the window, watching the drizzle falling outside.

An elderly woman, walking with difficulty and leaning on a cane, slowly walked across the street.

Su Chun recognized her; she was the mother of the girl with the double buns who was the first to buy her hairpin back then.

Nowadays, the children of young girls are already getting married.

The old woman seemed to have seen Su Chun as well. Her cloudy eyes lit up for a moment, and she slowly walked over and pushed open the door of Linlang Xiaozhu.

"Boss Su."

The old woman's voice was hoarse and weak.

"Grandma Li, please come in quickly, it's raining outside."

Su Chun quickly got up, helped her to sit down in the chair, and poured her a cup of hot tea.

The old woman took the teacup, her hands trembling slightly. She looked at Su Chun with a complicated expression.

"Mr. Su, you're still here. That's great."

Su Chun smiled slightly.

"I'm used to it here."

The old woman sighed, and tears welled up in her cloudy eyes.

“My daughter, she always wore the plum blossom hairpin you gave her back then. She passed away a few days ago. I never expected her to leave before me. It’s truly a case of an elderly person outliving their child.”

Su Chun's heart sank, and her hand holding the teapot paused slightly.

That bouncy, joyful girl wearing a plum blossom hairpin, that later gentle-smiling mother holding her child—I never imagined she would leave us so young.

She calculated that the other person should be only in his sixties.

However, very few people in this world live to be seventy or eighty years old.

"Grandma Li, please accept my condolences."

Su Chun offered a soft word of comfort, but her heart was filled with mixed emotions.

The old woman wiped away her tears, took out a cloth bag from her bosom, and opened it with trembling hands. Inside was the pink coral plum blossom hairpin, but the color had faded and the edges were worn.

“This hairpin was her favorite, and I want to return it to Boss Su so that it can be returned to its rightful owner.”

Su Chun looked at the hairpin that had witnessed nearly twenty years of history, remained silent for a moment, and then gently shook her head.

“Grandma Li, since this hairpin is your daughter’s beloved possession, let it stay with her. It is a part of her life and a testament to the bond between us.”

The old woman stared blankly at Su Chun for a long time before nodding, clutching the cloth bag tightly to her chest as if holding onto her last thought, and slowly and laboriously left the small shop.

Su Chun stood at the door, watching the old woman's unsteady figure walk away and disappear into the rain.

The rain soaked her hair and clothes, bringing a chill, but she was completely unaware.

Forty years have passed in the blink of an eye.

For a cultivator, it may be just a moment of seclusion and cultivation, but for a mortal, it is an entire lifetime.

She participated in and witnessed all of this as an observer.

In the daily routine of ordinary life, her state of mind, like a piece of rough jade being carefully polished, gradually sheds its impetuous exterior, revealing a warm and transparent essence.

She gained a deeper understanding of birth, aging, sickness, and death, and also had new insights into the meaning of the word "longevity" in the "Longevity Secret".

Longevity may not be just about extending lifespan, but also about understanding and accepting life itself.

Su Chun slowly closed the door and sat down behind the counter.

The rain was still falling outside the window, pattering against the eaves and window frames, like the footsteps of time.

She picked up an unfinished jade hairpin and continued to polish it meticulously.

His movements remained gentle, but his gaze was more resolute than ever before.

She knew that her worldly spiritual practice might be coming to an end soon.

Another twenty years passed quickly, and Su Chun had completely transformed into an old woman in her seventies or eighties.

A light drizzle fell outside the window. Su Chun rubbed her sore eyes and then glanced at the old woman reflected in the bronze mirror.

She put down the sandalwood comb in her hand; it was her last unfinished work.

The comb teeth are carved with intricate lotus scroll patterns, each cut embodying her longing for the ordinary days of life.

The last wisp of sandalwood incense in the bronze incense burner on the desk dissipated, just like her life that was about to come to an end.

"That's enough, it's time to go."

Su Chun said softly, her voice hoarse as if it had been sanded.

She pulled an old wooden box from under the bed, inside which were neatly stacked account books from the past sixty years, as well as various gifts and money from the neighbors.

"Grandma Su, are you still open today?"

Widow Zhang from next door called out from outside the door, her bamboo basket of greens glistening with fresh dew.

This was something Su Chun had specifically instructed a few days ago: if she didn't open the door within three days, then come and check.

Su Chun did not respond.

She carefully folded her indigo coarse cloth dress, used a peach wood hairpin to tie her gray hair into a neat bun, and finally straightened her clothes in front of the bronze mirror.

The figure in the mirror is old and serene, like an old locust tree quietly withering and flourishing at the end of an alley.

She lay down on the hard bed covered with a coarse cloth mattress.