The sun was at its peak when Luo Yan slipped away from her grandmother and followed Zhu Yun toward the east side of the village.
The mountain wasn’t steep, but the path was primitive—just one or two faint trails hidden among the wildly overgrown branches and leaves, worn down by footsteps from long ago.
Luo Yan kept an eye on the ground as she asked, “Why did you come to Qingyuan Village?”
“Same as you.”
She almost tripped, her voice trembling slightly. “You know about me?”
Zhu Yun’s face didn’t look like a random passerby’s. Could he be a loyal secondary character sent by Long Aotian to investigate, or a secret informant planted by the emperor in the Luo family…
But Luo Yan usually had a good memory—she never forgot any lines from characters who had more than a few. So who exactly did she overlook?
The more she thought about it, the more afraid she became, her amber eyes trembling lightly.
Zhu Yun quickened his pace and brushed aside the branches blocking the way, speaking irritably, “Just like you, I picked a place to hide from trouble. Nothing more.”
So it was just her overactive imagination. Luo Yan forced out a dry laugh. “Oh, I see.”
Then he suddenly changed the subject. “I’m not interested in the Luo family’s downfall, nor in you and the old servant pretending to be grandmother and granddaughter to escape to Lin Chuan.”
“?”
Wasn’t that knowing everything clearly?
Zhu Yun snorted coldly. “I have eyes.”
Meaning everything was observed firsthand.
Luo Yan’s mood felt like a rollercoaster ride; it took her a while to calm down before she cautiously asked, “Is your real name really Zhu Yun?”
“Mm.”
The leader of the West Mountain Divine Sect had the surname Zhu. After its downfall, his daughter Zhu Jing changed her name to Meng Jing and founded Lanyue Pavilion.
Maybe people mistook him for the sect’s heir, so he chose to keep the surname Zhu instead of Meng. As for Yun, that was given by his biological parents.
With a clear answer, Luo Yan relaxed slightly. Ignoring his heavy breathing, she took the chance to ask, “Will you leave once the heat dies down?”
Zhu Yun glanced at her. “You want me to leave.”
“Of course not.” Afraid he wouldn’t believe her, Luo Yan’s tone grew unusually warm. “I can play games with you, and grandmother’s cooking is delicious.”
He deliberately frowned. “That’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Luo Yan hesitated, counting on her fingers, “No sunburn, no hunger, and family and playmates.”
Those were clearly what she wanted.
Zhu Yun cooperated with a hum. “Enough.”
She exhaled in relief. “Feel free to stay. If there’s good food or fun things, I’ll think of you.”
By then, they had reached halfway up the mountain.
Luo Yan, running low on energy, gradually shifted from leading the way to walking side by side, then to holding onto Zhu Yun’s arm and being dragged along.
But since she insisted on coming, she felt too embarrassed to admit she was tired. Instead, she said tactfully, “Don’t you think the sunset looks especially beautiful from here?”
Zhu Yun was unfazed. “No.”
“Ten minutes,” she insisted, “In your words, that’s just the time for a cup of tea. Just stay with me and watch.”
The rosy glow was like frozen candlelight, stretching for miles and gilding the mountain ridges in gold.
Luo Yan had flown private planes a few times, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with the view—but she was more curious about Zhu Yun and couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you tired? You’re not even sweating.”
“You’re just too weak.”
“……”
Not wanting to waste his time any longer, she glanced back at the trail. It wasn’t steep, so she decided to go down first.
But Zhu Yun suddenly crouched. “Get on.”
The boy was slender but explosively strong. He lifted Luo Yan onto his back and lightly stepped on the rocks as if flying—in her eyes, it really was flying.
No more trails or shortcuts mattered. If there was a path, he took it; if not, he climbed the trees.
All she saw were shadows of leaves fluttering past, making her stomach churn. She buried her face in Zhu Yun’s neck and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
He landed quickly, his face slightly pale—from her grip.
“We’re here.” Zhu Yun pulled away the hand clenching his arm, only to find she was too weak to stand. He seemed a little shocked by her frailty. “What’s wrong?”
Luo Yan defeatedly said, “Just remembered I get dizzy with 3D.”
Zhu Yun was stunned for a moment, then understood and turned away, his shoulders trembling slightly.
Still leaning against him, Luo Yan was confused.
But no matter what, they had reached the mountaintop. Zhu Yun found a rock for her to sit on, then marked a horizontal line a few steps away. “Try not to cross this.”
Luo Yan valued her life and nodded obediently.
Except for the peak, the rest of the area was flat and open.
She was about to praise Zhu Yun’s choice when she noticed the branches were neatly cut, and the stones smoothed—clearly he came here often to practice swordsmanship, cleaning the place day after day.
So diligent.
The half-human-height longsword was remarkably obedient in Zhu Yun’s hands.
The sword wind swept through, making fallen leaves spin wildly.
Her hair and skirt fluttered too, as if waving banners.
Amazed, she suddenly thought—in a martial world ruled by strength, the author set the original character as fragile, deliberately stirring the male lead’s protective instincts.
But Luo Yan had already been protected enough in her previous life—long and hard. Even after such a bizarre transmigration, was she still trapped in a similar fate?
Focused on reviewing the sword form, Zhu Yun suddenly heard raindrops tapping on the leaves.
He sheathed his sword and stood still, palm facing up, but no raindrops fell.
He suddenly remembered something and turned to look at Luo Yan, who first opened her eyes wide in panic, then raised her sleeve to cover her face.
Zhu Yun, confident in his strength advantage, pushed her hand aside.
Aside from the damp eyelashes, there was no sign she had just cried.
Luo Yan awkwardly pulled away. “I just remembered something from before.”
Zhu Yun was sweating from exertion. He sat down beside her, hands pressing on the rock to steady his breath. He didn’t say it outright, but clearly was willing to listen.
“Ah Yun, what about your parents?”
“Don’t know.”
Curious, Luo Yan asked, “Don’t you crave family affection?”
“No.” His answer was blunt.
The disciples in the tower couldn’t leave the training ground before reaching the lowest rank, so they had no concept of things like “parents.”
He himself called Meng Jing “mother,” but it was just a code name. It wasn’t until he entered the world at age eight that he vaguely understood.
Seeing that he didn’t seem to be putting on a brave face, Luo Yan felt a little envious and softly said, “When I was little, my family was a model one.”
Later, she got sick and moved to a princess-style hospital room. Her parents visited less and less, their looks turning from concern to weariness.
Only she still remembered the picture of a happy family of four, waking every day waiting, hoping, asking.
Growing older, Luo Yan realized everyone had their own world. Her world was a single room, but her parents’ world was vast and busy.
She couldn’t lock others by her side.
Zhu Yun found it hard to empathize but asked, “Do you have older brothers?”
“Uh.” She hesitated. The original character had no full brothers, and the Luo family was now history, but she nodded, “My older brother went far away to study. He can only occasionally send me letters.”
Her brother, too, rarely saw their parents, but he had friends, studies, even a lover.
Thinking of this, Luo Yan’s eyes brightened a little, shyly adding, “Now that I have you and grandmother with me, the past is actually hazy and not so important anymore.”
She comforted herself easily and changed the subject, “Can I learn martial arts with you?”
Zhu Yun took her hand and felt along her wrist to her shoulder, honestly saying, “For you, it’s more harm than good.”
“Ticklish.” She laughed and pulled her hand back. “Forget it then, I’ll just lie flat till I’m fifteen.”
They trained until dusk fully settled.
On the way back, Zhu Yun carried her effortlessly down the mountain.
Luo Yan couldn’t hide her surprise. “You can see clearly without lighting?”
“Mm.”
“What are you best at? Swordsmanship or lightness skill?”
Zhu Yun blanked for a moment. Whatever the sect taught, he learned. Swordsmanship came easily because he’d grabbed a sword, not because he was skilled.
She seemed to expect this and cut him off. “Then I’ll just call you ‘Don’t Know’ from now on.”
“Oh.” Zhu Yun retorted, “Then I’ll call you ‘Wishful Thinking.’”
“……”
They bickered all the way home.
The lanterns outside the courtyard were already lit, and the dinner table steamed invitingly.
Jia Yufang was mending old clothes nearby.
Seeing them, she immediately put down her sewing basket and happily said, “Qinglian just came by, bringing lots of flatbreads. Said her sister also wants to study here.”
Luo Yan felt flattered and took a piece to try. “Delicious.”
“Qinglian’s grandmother is famous in the village for her cooking,” Jia Yufang smiled. “I learned a few signature dishes from her myself.”
Curious, Luo Yan asked, “How many people are in their family?”
“Six.”
Qinglian’s grandmother had already passed away, and her grandfather was incapacitated.
Below them were her father and mother, then the eldest sister Qingping and second sister Qingcao.
Every family hoped for sons. Qinglian’s mother couldn’t have any, and her father was ashamed, turning to drinking. This pushed an already poor household into destitution.
Jia Yufang sighed, “Cui Niang’s elder sister can read a few words and was hired by Madam Sheng to be the housekeeper. At least they don’t have to worry about food and clothing.”
“The Sheng family who bought your embroidery patterns?”
“That’s right.”
The Luo family was connected to the royal family and extremely wealthy. Their servants had more experience than many masters.
So Jia Yufang’s embroidery was especially popular in Hanmei Town, but it was Qinglian’s aunt who brokered the deal, ensuring the two old friends had steady work and the mistress of their household some prestige.
Luo Yan listened with mixed feelings and sighed twice, mature beyond her years.
Zhu Yun snapped his fingers on her forehead. Seeing her wince, he teased, “If you love stories so much, why not be a hype man at the tea house?”
“What’s that?”
He explained that tea houses, inns, or storytellers hired hype men to cheer and attract more customers.
Luo Yan giggled. “I could definitely do that job.”
Jia Yufang laughed too, biting off a thread and showing Zhu Yun the mended robe. “This fabric’s good. It’d be a waste to throw it away.”
Zhu Yun took it and saw that the ripped parts were patched with bamboo motifs, matching Luo Yan’s sleeves. He was silent for a moment, then awkwardly said, “Thank you.”
“As long as you’re satisfied.” Jia Yufang put down her sewing basket and went to clean the dishes, refusing to let Luo Yan help.
Luo Yan stuck close like glue, chatting endlessly about village life.
Hearing the laughter of the grandmother and granddaughter, Zhu Yun smiled to himself, thinking: Since he had nowhere else to go, staying in Qingyuan Village wasn’t so bad after all.
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