Luo Yan hadn’t expected him to wake up so soon.
She quietly hid the Shi Dai and greeted him naturally, “You’re awake.”
In front of Zhu Yun’s eyes, everything was doubled and blurry.
For some reason, he counted—there were a full seven Luo Yans.
Still, he could make out the shape of the girl: a round, full face with a bit of chubbiness on her cheeks, large almond eyes sparkling with mischief.
But her complexion was an unnaturally pale sickly white.
Staring any longer made his head spin.
Judging by his symptoms, Luo Yan guessed it was low blood sugar. “Da da da”—she ran out, then “da da da”—ran back in, now holding a steaming bowl of Tang Shui.
She set the porcelain bowl on the small table and asked considerately, “Do you want me to help you sit up, or do you want to drink it like this?”
Zhu Yun responded by lifting his palm halfway.
But he could only hold it up for a moment before it fell heavily back down, making the bed board tremble.
Luo Yan caught a hint of embarrassment in the boy’s eyes. She tilted her head in confusion, “What do you want?”
“……”
Zhu Yun fumed inwardly: I want to wring your neck.
The poison and his Neili were battling inside him, neither gaining the upper hand, which left his reactions sluggish and his strength lacking.
He stared at Luo Yan, her big eyes meeting his smaller ones.
As the double vision faded, sensation returned to his limbs.
He propped himself up on the bed board, signaling Luo Yan to hand him the bowl. As he did, the thin blanket slid down to his waist.
A chill crept in.
He lowered his gaze for a few breaths, realizing he was completely bare. His expression shifted subtly in an instant.
Unfortunately, Luo Yan couldn’t read the murderous intent and simply thought the boy was shy.
She casually fetched the robe from the end of the bed and comforted him, “You were covered in blood at the time. It was Liu Bobo, the doctor, who helped clean you up.”
After saying this, she politely turned her back.
The robe was washed clean, dried, and scented. Zhu Yun’s mood improved as he slowly tied his belt.
Whether it was from hunger or anger, both his hands trembled slightly.
Never mind killing anyone, he could barely walk.
The girl kept chattering, “Are you feeling better? Liu Bobo said you might never wake up. Oh, do you want me to send word to your family?”
He couldn’t be bothered to answer, his gaze falling on the lustrous hair before him, obviously cared for by a wealthy family.
But a sickly boudoir girl, and yet she showed no sense of propriety in front of an outsider man?
Luo Yan really was used to it.
In her eyes, no matter how Zhu Yun acted tough, he was still someone who should be obediently hanging around the children’s ward.
She’d often seen other kids changing hospital clothes and didn’t think much of it.
Once the rustling behind her stopped, Luo Yan turned back on her own.
Zhu Yun’s forehead was still beaded with cold sweat.
She wrung out a cloth and clumsily wiped his face.
Her gaze inevitably swept over the boy’s messy braids, and she felt a bit guilty.
She had to figure out how to undo those three-strand braids.
After drinking the Tang Shui, Zhu Yun’s stomach felt warm and comfortable.
He started to quietly survey the room.
The general layout hadn’t changed, so the secret manual and Buyao should still be where he left them.
He was mulling it over when Luo Yan tugged his hair, “Say something.”
“Say what.”
His voice was hoarse with illness, but still crisp—a clear sign he was just a young boy.
Luo Yan asked, “What’s your name?”
Zhu Yun glanced at her sideways, “And what’s yours?”
She pouted, thinking his temper was much worse than his face, but still acted like a proper host, “My name is Luo Yan. My grandmother and I were the ones who saved you.”
“Oh.”
“……”
That’s it?
Luo Yan waited, but nothing more came. Instead, his cheeks inexplicably reddened, as if his illness had gotten worse.
She softened her tone immediately, “It’ll be a while before supper. Are you hungry? I can bring you a bowl of porridge.”
Zhu Yun gripped the thin blanket tightly, “Go out.”
“Hmm?”
He stiffened his neck, refusing to speak again, his gaze drifting meaningfully toward the trousers at the foot of the bed.
“You want to put on your pants? You should’ve said so.” Luo Yan stuck out her tongue, picked up the bowls and dishes, and thoughtfully closed the door as she left.
Once dressed, Zhu Yun touched his roughly tied hair, feeling a new wave of irritation.
But considering he needed someone to order around for now, he’d let her stay a few more days.
After tidying up, he supported himself against the wall and slipped into the next room.
Familiar with the place, he opened the gold-trimmed Guanpi Xiang and took out bottles and jars.
No need to check—they were all rare medicines in the martial world.
Zhu Yun swallowed them all in one go, then sat to circulate his Qi.
Everyone called Yuanyang Nuan the deadliest of poisons.
But they didn’t know “Yuan” was the poison, “Yang” the antidote. Take both together, then refine with Neili, and you’d be immune to all poisons.
However, the refining process was like burning your organs with fire. Few could truly endure it.
With a massive dose of Buyao, Zhu Yun barely suppressed the poison. After resting until the turmoil in his body subsided, he quietly returned to his room.
On the way, he saw Luo Yan talking with a village woman in the courtyard.
“Let him stay a few more days, please.” Luo Yan clung to the woman’s arm, acting spoiled. “Once he’s better, he’ll leave on his own.”
Jia Yufang always saw her as the young mistress, and knowing Luo Yan lacked playmates, she relented, “Then let him stay until the doctor goes up the mountain.”
With permission secured, Luo Yan grabbed her toy box to find Zhu Yun, bringing along a bowl of plain porridge for him.
“Want to play catch with stones?”
Zhu Yun washed his face with cold water.
Hearing this, he was a bit speechless, wanting to remind her he wasn’t fully recovered.
But since he had nothing better to do, after drinking the porridge, he leaned back with folded arms and lazily grunted, “Mm.”
“I’ll show you first.”
Her fingers flew, deftly catching the stones.
She didn’t forget to look after the beginner’s pride, encouraging, “Play a few more times and you’ll get the hang of it. Try it.”
He tugged at the corners of his mouth, closed his eyes, and grabbed a handful blindly, “Like this?”
“……”
A natural.
Luo Yan couldn’t keep up the act. She put the stones away, “You’re still sick, so you shouldn’t do strenuous exercise. Let’s play chess instead.”
Zhu Yun raised an eyebrow, “Don’t know how.”
“That’s perfect!” she said enthusiastically. “I’ll teach you.”
But Zhu Yun didn’t care about the rules at all. Left hand black, right hand white, he placed the pieces all over the board.
If Luo Yan tried to correct him, he’d fix her with a dark, brooding stare.
She got angry and messed up the board, “You’re no fun at all.”
Zhu Yun’s ears rang from her yelling, but he was amused by her pouting. He took out a palm-sized cloth bag from the box and weighed it, “What’s this?”
Luo Yan forgot her annoyance and answered instinctively, “That’s a Shabao.”
Her grandmother had sewn it for her, hoping she could use it to get in with the kids of Qingyuan Village…
Thinking of this, Luo Yan had an idea. She patted his shoulder, “You look a lot better. Let’s go out and play.”
“?”
If he wasn’t mistaken, it hadn’t even been half an hour since he woke up. Who recovers from injuries that fast?
But Luo Yan wasn’t the considerate type. She nudged his shoes, “Hurry up, hurry up! Grandmother is cooking. We can’t play for long.”
Zhu Yun took a deep breath, slowly stood up, and asked, “Where’s my sword?”
“There.” She pointed to the corner. “Don’t take it with you. The village kids are all scaredy-cats.”
He said nothing, brushing past Luo Yan and heading out the gate first.
He checked for traces of his arrival and, seeing they’d been washed away by rain, relaxed.
Luo Yan was still dawdling, “Grandmother, I’m going out to play! I’ll be back soon.”
The girl’s voice was full of energy, completely different from her sickly appearance.
With a companion, Luo Yan no longer watched from afar. She strutted straight through the village children, even giving a loud “hmph” to get everyone’s attention.
The village kids eyed her with a mix of curiosity and fear.
The younger ones thought they were whispering, but were actually muttering loudly, “She’s really pretty, not like a ghost girl at all.”
Hearing this, Luo Yan stopped, puzzled, “What ghost girl?”
“Ahhhh—”Everyone scattered in a panic, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Fuming, Luo Yan yanked up a handful of wild grass to vent, then looked at Zhu Yun, who was glancing around, and declared, “We don’t need to play with them anyway.”
Zhu Yun made no comment, hands behind his back as he strolled, carefully erasing any tracks he hadn’t covered up.
After finishing, he finally relaxed. Looking back, he saw Luo Yan teasing someone else’s Baizhi and barking dog with wild fruits.
Hearing footsteps, Luo Yan waved him over, “I’ve thought of a brilliant plan.”
“What is it?”
“Tomorrow I’ll bring some candied fruit. Let’s see if they can ignore me then.”
Zhu Yun glanced at the Xia Huangquan who’d been bribed with food, thinking it wasn’t a bad idea.
At that moment, smoke rose from a farmhouse kitchen. Smelling the food, Luo Yan finally moved, standing eagerly in front of Zhu Yun, “Follow me, so the wind won’t blow on you.”
He smiled faintly, took two quick steps, and passed Luo Yan.
“……”
Jia Yufang was setting the table.
Seeing the boy walking briskly, with Luo Yan panting behind, she was surprised, “You’re already up and about?”
“Yep.” Luo Yan credited the doctor’s skill, describing, “He walks faster than me, like the wind—‘whoosh’, and he’s gone.”
Zhu Yun sat down calmly.
There were four dishes and a soup on the table. For wealthy families, this might be normal, but for a farming household, it was a real luxury.
Looking at the woman’s hands, they weren’t rough, but had a few calluses from years of work.
Most out of place was her doting on Luo Yan—she granted every request, acting nothing like a grandmother. If anything, she seemed more like a servant.
After all, he’d only ever seen doting grandparents with prized granddaughters—beauties that were rarely not sold off.
Not that any of this concerned Zhu Yun. Just two people on the brink of death.
He took the chicken soup and drank it without guilt.
Luo Yan copied him, ladling a bowl for Jia Yufang and adding a big piece of leg meat, sweetly saying, “Thank you for your hard work, Grandmother.”
Jia Yufang was already of an age to be a grandmother. How could she not be moved?
Smiling, she added more food to the children’s bowls, saying there was plenty in the pot.
Luo Yan couldn’t sit still and started asking about candied fruit as she ate.
Throughout the meal, all you could hear were her grand plans to become the village boss. She even said—
“More people means more fun.”
Zhu Yun was busy eating, but at this his forehead twitched.
He thought, aside from her, no one else at the table was talking—how was this lively?
After a hearty meal, Luo Yan dragged him to play chess.
The rules of Five-in-a-Row were simple, so Zhu Yun finally stopped messing around. They each won and lost, and both enjoyed themselves.
Halfway through, Jia Yufang came to refill their tea. Seeing the two so happy together, she was reminded of the days before the Luo family’s misfortune and couldn’t help but feel teary.
She reminded them, “Don’t play too long, or you’ll strain your eyes.”
“Got it!”
Luo Yan answered cheerfully, but immediately bent over her paper, scribbling and coloring with flower juice, saying she was making a board for flying chess.
Zhu Yun took the chance to find some scraps of cloth to wipe his sword, pondering the intentions of the Tower Master.
He’d killed four Jialevel disciples in a row; only Jia-3 and Jia-6 remained. Would they be sent after him?
Or maybe, they thought he’d taken the poison and died in the wild.
What mattered most was refining the Yuanyang Nuan.
He wanted to meditate and cultivate, so he tapped the table and said, “I’m going to sleep. Take your things back to your room.”
“What?” Luo Yan’s eyes widened, as if the sky was falling. “This is my study, where else would I take them?”
Zhu Yun didn’t answer, just jerked his chin in a clear gesture to leave.
Luo Yan, on the other hand, felt a little regretful for speaking too soon. In the novels she’d read, protagonists under someone else’s roof were always helpless and pitiful.
So she softened her tone, “Alright, I should sleep too. If you get cold at night, there’s another summer quilt in the cabinet. Also, what should we play tomorrow?”
“……”
He had to remind her, “I’m still sick.”
“But you look so much better.” Luo Yan muttered quietly, finally willing to walk out. Suddenly she remembered something important and spun around, “You still haven’t told me your name.”
Worried he’d try to dodge, she warned first, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll call you Little Black.”
Little Black?
He remembered Luo Yan had called the chubby Baizhi “Little White” earlier. His lips twitched and he replied irritably, “Zhu Yun.”
“My name is Zhu Yun.”
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