As Hu Qiao’er climbed onto the windowsill, a fragrant aroma wafted through the air.
Hu Qiao’er carefully carried a steaming bowl of noodles over to Jiang Che.
“A Che, hurry and try this! I made it especially for you. It’s light, but so delicious!”
Hu Qiao’er’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
She deftly wound a chopstickful of noodles, gently blew on them, and brought them to Jiang Che’s lips.
Jiang Che hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he opened his mouth ever so slightly.
The noodles, along with the warm broth, slid into his mouth.
The flavor was simple—no complicated seasoning, just the wheat fragrance of the noodles themselves, the richness of lard, and the freshness of chopped scallions.
Hu Qiao’er had often cooked noodles like this for Jiang Che before, and she had often fed him personally. Because he couldn’t see, eating noodles could be troublesome.
Hu Qiao’er’s cooking might not have been better than Jiang Che’s, but Jiang Che could always taste the care and affection within.
Beneath Hu Qiao’er’s feet, Wang Hao was feeling quite speechless.
It wasn’t as if entering through the main door was impossible.
All he could say was that people in love really lost some of their intelligence.
Jiang Che finished the last mouthful in his bowl. Hu Qiao’er thoughtfully took out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped Jiang Che’s mouth, her every movement filled with careful attention.
Jiang Che could sense Hu Qiao’er’s gaze resting on his face, probing, as though trying to see through the calm he struggled to maintain.
He didn’t know if Hu Qiao’er had noticed something, but his heart tightened just a little.
Yet it was Hu Qiao’er who broke the silence first, her voice very soft and cautious: “A Che, um… was it your former Master who brought you back here and locked you up?”
At these words, Jiang Che’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly, his throat tightening.
He wanted to deny it immediately—“No.” He wanted to say, “She’s not worthy!”
But the words stuck in his throat; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t utter them. In the end, he just pressed his lips together and fell silent, almost rigidly so.
Seeing his reaction, Hu Qiao’er’s eyes dimmed, but she voiced the question that had been circling in her heart.
“A Che, at the Shou Tu Da Dian in two days, that person called ‘Jiang Huai’… is that you? Were you called Jiang Huai before? Or… did they just give you that name now?”
“They decided it.”
Bitterness spread across his tongue in an instant.
At this moment, he felt just like someone from the mountains, forced to be sold off as a wife to the Village Chief’s Son.
His name, his identity, his future—even where he could stay—none of it was up to him.
It was as if his fate was clenched in an invisible fist, squeezed and shaped at someone’s whim, and he was almost out of strength to resist at all.
Perhaps sensing Jiang Che’s unhappiness, Hu Qiao’er spoke without thinking, “A Che, if you don’t want to stay here, I’ll take you away!”
Jiang Che was stunned.
“Don’t look at me like that. I mean I’ll help you leave this place. I’ll stay here and keep digging into what happened to you before, A Che.”
Hu Qiao’er looked completely serious.
She had been trying to trace any clues about Jiang Che’s past. But there were only a few old Lingjian Peak Disciples left.
As for Yun Fan, she always felt like he and Jiang Che were as close as brothers-in-arms—no matter how she asked, she couldn’t get anything out of him.
Then there was Senior Sister Bai Rushuang. Her woman’s intuition simply told her she didn’t like Senior Sister Bai Rushuang.
She didn’t even know why.
As for Yuan Qingqing, she had never managed to find her.
When she asked Yun Fan about Yuan Qingqing, Yun Fan just looked irritated. It seemed he held a grudge against Yuan Qingqing.
What Hu Qiao’er didn’t know was that Yun Fan disliked Yuan Qingqing because, when Jiang Che was expelled from the Zhumen, she too was suspected—along with Zhao Zi’ang, whom Yun Fan also disliked.
Speaking of Zhao Zi’ang, Hu Qiao’er had met him already. The first time had been a few days ago, and he had given off a clear air of gloominess.
He always winked at Hu Qiao’er, as if he were very handsome, but it really didn’t suit Hu Qiao’er’s taste.
“Qiao’er-jie, thank you, but you can’t help me with this. I can’t escape.”
Jiang Che deliberately used the word ‘escape.’
If it were Xu Qianlan, her methods wouldn’t be too extreme—but Lin Yin was different.
She had once crippled Jiang Che, so who could say she wouldn’t kill Hu Qiao’er with a single sword stroke now? Jiang Che could not bear to see that happen.
“Just leave it to me!” Hu Qiao’er patted her chest, confidently promising Jiang Che.
But before she could finish speaking, her foot suddenly slipped. “Ai ya!” With a cry, she lost her balance and tumbled off the windowsill.
Thud—a dull sound, followed by Wang Hao’s muffled cry of pain.
“Wang Hao! Why couldn’t you hold on a little longer?”
Hu Qiao’er lowered her voice, a little flustered and embarrassed, scolding Wang Hao in a hushed tone as he lay underneath her.
Wang Hao felt utterly wronged, inwardly cursing his bad luck.
He felt like nothing but a prop. While Hu Qiao’er and Jiang Che whispered sweet nothings above, picturing their future, he was stuck below serving as a human cushion, forced to suffer this senseless calamity.
“A Che! Wait for me, I’ll definitely find a way to take you away!”
Inside the room, Jiang Che listened to the chaos and concern outside, and he couldn’t help but smile, a little happy but also a little worried.
At the same time, Lin Yin was slowly making her way to the house where Jiang Che used to live.
There weren’t many people on Lingjian Peak these days. The mountain was quiet, and when she had nothing to do, she always felt the urge to come here, but in truth, there wasn’t a single thing she could do.
Yet, these past few days, she had always seen a figure appearing outside that small house—not Yun Fan, who came every day to clean in silence, but her second disciple, Bai Rushuang.
Lin Yin’s heart grew heavy, her steps silent as she drew closer.
“Shuang’er, what are you doing here?”
Lin Yin’s voice suddenly sounded behind her—calm, but with an unmistakable chill.
Bai Rushuang jumped in fright, her body trembling as she hurriedly turned around. She saw Master Lin Yin, who had somehow appeared at the door, her gaze fixed upon her.
At that moment, Bai Rushuang was standing in front of the bookshelf, one hand not yet fully withdrawn from behind a row of books, her posture looking rather stiff.
It looked as if she had just been rummaging for something.
“Mas… Master!” Bai Rushuang’s eyes flickered as she instinctively avoided Lin Yin’s gaze, her face momentarily flustered. “Uh… I-I saw that you’ve been living here recently, and thought that since it hasn’t been looked after in a while, I’d come clean up a little…”
“Is that so? Thank you, but Yun Fan comes to tidy up. He does a good job. You don’t need to trouble yourself.”
“Huh? Really? Haha, Yun Fan is just as diligent as ever…”
Bai Rushuang was secretly shocked.
Master actually didn’t punish her? Just now, her tone had even sounded a little caring?
Lin Yin noticed Bai Rushuang’s expression, and wondered if she had said something wrong.
She had been so preoccupied with Jiang Che these days that she hadn’t paid much attention to her other disciples.
“Your complexion looks a little pale. Are you alright?”
“Uh, thank you for your concern, Master. I’m fine!”
Bai Rushuang cupped her hands.
Forget it, forget it! I’ll come back another day to search for that Diary! Who knows where Senior Brother’s Diary has gone!
“Then I’ll take my leave, Master!”
Lin Yin nodded, but then seemed to remember something.
“By the way, where is your Third Junior Sister, Jiang Lianwan?”