The rain passed, and the sky cleared.
Light spots.
The wild wind and rain that raged all night faded quietly before dawn, leaving behind a sky washed clean and clear of dust.
The morning sunlight carried a trace of cool moisture as it filtered through the damp branches of the old tree in the courtyard, scattering gentle, fragmented beams across the blue stone tiles.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of rain-soaked earth and grass.
Ye Chen woke up early.
He was squatting beside the newly planted Concentration Grass in the corner of the courtyard.
Last night’s wind and rain had been fierce, and he worried the delicate herbs might have been damaged.
He gently straightened a leaning stalk, then brushed away specks of mud from its leaves.
His movements were focused and calm, like an ordinary boy tending his family’s vegetable garden.
This was the scene Xiao Liuli saw when she pushed open the door.
She paused, her steps halting in the shadow of the porch.
A night of meditation had allowed her to fully suppress the rampaging cold poison.
For the first time in three years, on the morning after a Cold Fiend attack, she felt…so light.
Though the cold still lingered in her bones, the pain of being torn and frozen was gone, replaced by an unprecedented clarity.
All of it came from that unremarkable bowl of medicinal soup last night.
Her gaze fell on the crouched figure.
Thin and ordinary, dressed in simple blue cloth—no matter how she looked, he was just another unremarkable disciple of the Ye family.
Yet this very person had casually offered a bowl of soup with an effect several times stronger than the pills painstakingly refined by the Alchemists of her clan.
Such a stark contrast dropped a stone into the frozen well of her heart, sending ripples she could not ignore.
She stood there for a moment, fingers unconsciously curling inside her sleeve, before finally moving forward.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Ye Chen turned.
Seeing it was her, he showed no surprise—only nodded calmly in greeting before returning to tend his cherished herbs.
Such pure tranquility made the words Xiao Liuli had prepared falter.
She’d expected him to ask about the medicine’s effects, or perhaps reveal a trace of pride.
But there was nothing.
He hadn’t even seemed to care, as if the soup he brought last night was no more than ordinary ginger tea.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crisp birdsong and the “tap tap” of water dripping from leaf tips.
In the end, it was Xiao Liuli who spoke first.
Her voice, unused for so long, sounded stiff.
“Thank you for the medicine last night.”
“A small thing.”
Ye Chen didn’t look up.
His voice came through the grass leaves, steady as ever.
“You seemed unwell last night. I happened to have some herbs for dispelling cold, so I tried making a bit of soup.”
His explanation was reasonable, like a spontaneous act of kindness.
But Xiao Liuli knew it was not so simple.
That gentle yet precise medicinal force could never come from a handful of common cold-dispelling herbs.
She took a deep breath of the cool morning air and continued.
“That medicine…was very effective. May I ask about the prescription? The Xiao family is willing to pay generously in spirit stones.”
She was used to solving problems through trade.
To her, it was the fairest way to avoid personal debts.
Yet Ye Chen’s response surprised her once more.
He finally straightened, turning to look at her.
His eyes were clear, with a hint of confusion, as if he couldn’t understand why she was being so formal.
“It’s not a secret recipe,”
He said casually.
“Sanyang Warming Decoction. I’ll write the formula for you. If you need it, just get the ingredients from the pharmacy and make it yourself. No need to talk of payment.”
He spoke so freely, so naturally.
He walked back into the room, wrote down the recipe and method on a slip of paper, and handed it to her without hesitation or reservation.
Xiao Liuli was completely stunned.
In her world, knowledge, pill formulas, and cultivation methods were the most precious of treasures—the foundation of a family’s strength, the root of a cultivator’s survival.
Anyone who acquired a valuable pill formula would guard it like a priceless treasure, never showing it to others.
How could someone write it down so lightly, as if it meant nothing?
She looked into Ye Chen’s clear eyes.
There was not a trace of calculation or scheming within, only pure sincerity.
At that moment, the hard shell of ice around her heart seemed…to crack, just slightly.
She suddenly felt that this person before her—whether compared to the scheming elders of her family or the arrogant and flattering peers of Qingyang City—was entirely different.
He seemed…
Not so difficult to get along with.
Perhaps even a bit too easygoing.
“Thank you. I’ve memorized it.”
It took her a long time to find her voice, and she finally managed a dry word of gratitude.
Ye Chen responded, as if the conversation was over, and crouched down again, happily flicking a crystal-clear drop of water from a Concentration Grass leaf.
Xiao Liuli stood behind him, watching his focused profile, the morning light casting a faint golden halo over him.
For the first time, she felt a true curiosity toward this nominal fiancé.
She didn’t disturb him again.
Turning, she silently returned to her room.
Yet behind the closed door, her heart remained restless for a long time.
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