Xu Songhe froze, turning to look at him.
The young man, who had seemed lost in his own thoughts the entire journey, lifted his eyelids. He still wore an indifferent expression and didn’t deny it.
“A-Fang, why are you asking that?” Xu Songhe rubbed her reddened nose and pointed to the man beside her. “You can’t just make assumptions like that just because my Young Master is good-natured and speaks kindly.”
A-Fang chuckled and ran a few steps away. He then turned back, stuck out his tongue, and made a face at them. A series of laughs drifted back to their ears on the breeze.
“Fine, keep your secrets! Everyone who comes here is like this. I don’t know what there is to be so shy about.”
“…”
Xu Songhe covered the ears of the rabbit in her arms. “Good boy, Little White. We won’t listen to that.”
“You have the leisure to name it, do you?” Qi Wuyang glanced at the rabbit.
Seeing white fur floating faintly in the air, he silently took a few steps back.
“It’s so white and fluffy. ‘Little White’ is the perfect name,” Xu Songhe said, then turned back to him. “Young Master, why do you have that name?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’?”
“Of course there’s a reason,” Xu Songhe said, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “When my parents named me, they hoped I’d grow up like the sun—healthy and happy.”
She paused, then looked at him. “Your name is beautiful, too. All three characters are wonderful. It’s a name full of hope, a prayer for a lifetime of peace…”
He fell silent again, his gaze lowering as if lost in thought.
His face was always so still, so unreadable. She could never guess what he was thinking or how he felt.
Suddenly, something cold and wet touched her head. Xu Songhe reached up, only to find a melted snowflake in her palm.
Snow had begun to fall, yet the people on the street remained unhurried. In fact, some even looked like they were enjoying it.
“Why are you two in such a rush?” A-Fang called from behind. He handed over an umbrella. “What’s the hurry? It’s just a little snow. I could only find one umbrella, so you’ll have to make do.”
He patted the large umbrella in his hand—big enough to shelter three people—and handed them a smaller one that could barely cover one person.
“…Thank you,” Xu Songhe said, accepting the umbrella but not opening it. She just held it in her hand.
Xu Songhe twisted the umbrella handle, her gaze darting toward the large one in A-Fang’s hand before quickly shifting back.
She tilted the small umbrella toward Qi Wuyang, her wide eyes meeting his. “Do you want it?”
He suddenly smiled, cutting straight to her thoughts. “You think this one is too small. You want his, don’t you?”
“…I don’t,” she stammered, quickly trying to hide her embarrassment. “A-Fang, why are you out in the snow?”
“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” A-Fang said, stifling a yawn and pointing ahead. “The guest room isn’t ready yet. There’s a temple up the road—you two can make do with that for the night.”
Before he turned to leave, he added, “Just don’t let the shopkeeper know, or he’ll accuse me of neglecting our guests again.”
Though the snow was light, it felt cold and uncomfortable against the skin. Xu Songhe opened the umbrella and tried to hold it over the young man’s head, but she had to stand on her tiptoes just to reach. Giving up, she pressed the handle into his hand.
“Young Master, you’re taller. You should hold it.”
Before he could object, the umbrella was already in his grasp.
Suddenly, his wrist was gently caught.
As he lifted the umbrella, the fine powder of snow clinging to its edges shook loose, falling like tiny pearls.
He looked down and met the girl’s smiling gaze. A few stray snowflakes clung to the tip of her nose, their stark whiteness somehow brighter and more vivid than the snow itself.
She slipped under the umbrella as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her arm brushing against his in the process.
Qi Wuyang’s fingers went stiff. He instinctively pulled back and shifted the umbrella slightly to the side. But the moment he moved, she immediately edged closer again, her shoulder nearly touching his sleeve.
“Good thing the snow is light,” she remarked casually. “Oh, look, there’s someone over there. Let’s go ask them how to get to the temple A-Fang mentioned…”
As they approached, the stranger’s low murmur drifted toward them: “If not for Shopkeeper Yu, my son would have lost his life to the Soul-Devouring Demon today.”
The man walked into a temple, ignoring the falling snow. Before he’d even shaken the flakes from his clothes, he sank to his knees with a heavy thud.
He carefully arranged the fruit from his carrying pole before the statue, then lit and offered several sticks of incense.
“Shopkeeper Yu, I can never repay your kindness in this lifetime,” he prayed. “It pains me that I can do so little. Please accept this modest offering…”
His devotion was palpable.
Xu Songhe followed him inside, her gaze sweeping upward. When she saw the statue’s face, she gasped.
Why does it look exactly like Shopkeeper Yu?
Could it be…? But why would someone build a statue for a living person?
She opened her mouth, about to speak, when she felt a sudden chill on her arm. The youth had folded the umbrella, brushing its wet surface against her.
“There’s space over there, isn’t there?”
She glanced at the empty doorway beside them, bewildered.
Qi Wuyang offered a faint smile as he set the umbrella aside.
“Call it even, then,” he said, his tone casual.
Even?
Xu Songhe blinked, staring at him in confusion.
Wait… is he talking about the time I accidentally bumped into him under the umbrella just now?
Her gaze shifted in disbelief. Is this some new way of seeking revenge? How can he be so childish!
“Are you here to offer prayers to Shopkeeper Yu?” the kneeling man asked, having risen without her noticing. He was now staring straight at them.
“We… we’re just taking shelter from the snow,” Xu Songhe said, her thoughts pulled back to the present.
She looked at the puddle of melted snow on the floor, then at the fruit arranged on the altar.
“If you want to thank Shopkeeper Yu, why didn’t you just bring the fruit to him?” she asked. “Why come here instead?”
The middle-aged man waved a dismissive hand and sighed. “Shopkeeper Yu has always been kind-hearted. No matter how much he’s helped us, he refuses to accept anything in return.”
He shook his head. “It’s a long story, but we all built this temple behind his back, in secret…”
Before Shopkeeper Yu arrived, the town had another temple, dedicated to the Medicine Immortal. It was rumored that the Medicine Immortal oversaw their region, and anyone who offered a prayer there would be blessed with a life free of disease and disaster.
But one day, someone in town died. Before the people could even process their grief, more deaths followed the next day, and the day after that.
Panic spread. The expressions of those who offered prayers at the Medicine Immortal’s temple shifted from desperate pleas to doubt, and finally to utter despair.
By then, half the town’s population had been wiped out. People began to say that the Medicine Immortal had abandoned them. He only cared about draining their life force, with no regard for whether they lived or died.
They decided that continuing to offer incense was a waste of time and tore the temple down the very next day.
“The legends are all false,” the man said, shaking his head. “What’s the use of relying on the Medicine Immortal? In our hour of need, it was Shopkeeper Yu who moved here from another place and opened an apothecary. Ever since then, we’ve never had to worry about where to go for medical help again.”
Xu Songhe listened patiently until he finished before asking, “So this temple was built because Shopkeeper Yu asked you to?”
The man quickly shook his head. “No, no, no. The Shopkeeper never asked us for anything. We just happened to overhear him saying that his lifelong dream was to have a temple of his own. We can’t do much for him, so this is the only way we know how to repay him.”
He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “But it’s strange. Every time I offer incense, I feel incredibly strong, like I have endless energy. Shopkeeper Yu is truly a miracle worker. Even his statue has such power.”
“I should get going,” he said, hoisting his empty shoulder pole. “If you two have any more questions, you can ask the other townspeople tomorrow.” With that, he turned and slowly walked away.
So Shopkeeper Yu isn’t originally from this town either, just like A-Fang?
Xu Songhe looked up at the statue, recalling the man’s words. A warm sensation surged from the soles of her feet.
The gods couldn’t do what this mortal man accomplished.
And he did it without asking for anything in return, caring only for the well-being of the people. How rare and precious.
After a moment, she withdrew her gaze and realized another pair of eyes was fixed on her. The young man had been silently watching her as she stared at the statue.
Xu Songhe quickly wiped her face, her fingers meeting a cool, wet trail.
Tears.
She had actually cried just from hearing the story.
Feeling embarrassed by her own emotional display, she stammered, “Y-you… stop looking at me like that…”
What can I do? I’m just a sentimental person.
“I’m just curious,” Qi Wuyang said, his gaze fixed on her face. He watched her tears and the way she wiped them away.
A faint, mocking smile touched his lips. “If someone gave you a steamed bun, would you cry like this?”
Xu Songhe thought about it seriously before answering. “If I were starving and they had plenty of food, I’d be grateful. But if they were also short on food and still shared with me… then I’d hug them and sob.”
“But the second scenario would never happen with an ordinary person like me,” she continued. “Unless it’s someone truly important, I wouldn’t think of others when I’m struggling to survive myself.”
She spoke at length, her words punctuated by a few soft sniffs. But he had no patience to listen to her finish.
Her train of thought was too erratic, and her words only fueled his frustration—the kind of annoyance one feels when trying to understand something completely illogical.
He let out a cold laugh, his voice flat. “You’d better pray you don’t die from running out of tears in the future.”
“…I won’t. You needn’t worry, Young Master.”
She had finally mustered the courage to snap back, only to be met with the System’s frantic voice screaming in her mind: 【Host! He must have fallen in love with you!】
What nonsense are you talking about? Xu Songhe retorted.
【You just insulted him, and his favorability score didn’t even drop! If that’s not love, what is?】 the System analyzed with absolute certainty.
How is that love? Can you be a little more reliable?
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. She quickly did the math—his favorability score was still under twenty. At best, he’d just refrain from killing her and occasionally save her life.
They were nowhere near “love.”
Still, this was enough. Xu Songhe felt that ever since his favorability had started to rise, she was no longer afraid of him. In the past, she had been terrified of this target, constantly fearing she’d die by his hand before ever reaching the required score.
Outside, the snow had lightened.
Xu Songhe set Little White on the ground and patted its head. “Are you hungry too, Little White? Wait here, I’ll go find something to eat.”
She took two steps away, then turned back and called out, “Young Master, what would you like to eat?”
Qi Wuyang leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed.
He tossed back a casual, “Anything.”