“I’m thinking about you.”
“Ah?” Bai Yuheng froze on the spot.
Pei Yuan retracted his gaze and said calmly, “I was thinking about how your mission went.”
Bai Yuheng exhaled a long sigh of relief.
This boy—couldn’t he finish a sentence before scaring her half to death?
“…It went… fine,” she replied honestly.
Pei Yuan nodded. “Good.”
“Why is Master here?” she asked.
“Oh, I was just passing by.”
“…”
Bai Yuheng smiled faintly. She didn’t believe a word of that.
“Is there something else?”
“?” She blinked, momentarily confused. Wasn’t he the one who’d sent the luan bird to bring her here?
“N–no, nothing else.”
He masked his emotions well—so well that Bai Yuheng began to wonder if that deep, shadowed look in his eyes earlier had just been her imagination.
“Master, are you training outside the sect?”
“Mm.”
His eyes drifted again, landing on her face, lingering.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“…No.” Bai Yuheng suddenly felt a little guilty.
A voice came from behind the thicket: “You dare lie to your master!”
The bushes rustled, and three figures stepped out, bowing politely to Pei Yuan. Cui Mingcan took the opportunity to gleefully exact revenge for the scare earlier.
“I must report this!” he announced, smirking. “Bai Yuheng is lying. She’s injured—her arm’s hurt and she’s lost a lot of spiritual energy!”
“…” Bai Yuheng glared daggers at him, but he only grinned wider, looking smug and triumphant.
Pei Yuan’s eyes dropped briefly to her arms. His fingers curled slightly. “Is that true?”
“Master, I—”
“Do not lie,” he cut her off, his tone sharp.
Bai Yuheng fell silent.
“Hold out your hand.”
“…”
His fingers pressed lightly against her wrist, feeling her pulse. It beat in sync with his touch—then quickened.
He drew back his hand, brows furrowing tightly, eyes full of quiet reproach. “Your spiritual energy is damaged. Don’t circulate it for now, and avoid any strenuous movement.”
“…”
Her silence only deepened his displeasure. His voice grew firm. “Do you understand?”
“…Yes.”
He nodded.
“Since the mission is over, you should return to the sect soon.” Pei Yuan’s gaze swept across the four of them—but his words were clearly meant for her alone.
“Yes, Master,” they all replied.
He mounted the luan bird, and before flying off, his eyes lingered briefly on Bai Yuheng—too briefly, but enough to make her heart skip.
“…” Bai Yuheng frowned. Something in that last glance didn’t feel right—but she couldn’t pinpoint what.
Before she could think further, Cui Mingcan piped up, “Alright, alright, he’s gone—stop staring!”
“Let’s find somewhere to rest.” He looked around and brightened. “Hey, this spot’s great! There’s a rock for shelter and a stream nearby.”
Li Tiankuo glanced at the dimming sky, then nodded. “It’s getting late. We’re not likely to find a village nearby. Let’s camp here for the night.”
Bai Yuheng and Cen Ying agreed. They each went about their tasks—Bai Yuheng gathering firewood, Cui Mingcan and Cen Ying catching fish, and Li Tiankuo building the fire.
“Cui Mingcan!” Cen Ying’s angry voice echoed. “You scared away all my fish!”
Cui Mingcan scratched his head. “Oops! How was I supposed to know that rock was loose? I almost fell!”
“Useless,” Cen Ying grumbled. “Fine—you take the upper stream, I’ll take the lower!”
“No way!” he protested. “There’s barely any water up there!”
“There are fish!” she snapped, pointing. “You scared mine away—go!”
“Miser,” he muttered, but still obeyed, trudging off.
Even from afar, Bai Yuheng could hear their bickering and chuckled softly. With how much those two squabbled, she wondered if they’d catch anything at all tonight.
While collecting firewood, she also kept an eye out for rabbits or wild birds.
And as luck would have it—there it was.
A plump wild pheasant, its tail feathers shimmering with color.
Bai Yuheng’s eyes focused. Her golden snake slithered out from her sleeve, sensing her intent.
Whoosh—
She drew her bow. The arrow sliced through the air with a sharp crack, startling the bird into flight—only to have the arrow transform midair into a glowing net, enveloping it completely.
“Did you really ignore my warning?”
Before she could celebrate, a firm hand seized her wrist from behind. His cold voice struck her ear.
“Ah—!”
Her arm, already injured, was pulled up roughly—pain flaring through the wound.
“Did I hurt you?”
It was Pei Yuan. Whether he had left and come back, or had never left at all, she didn’t know—but now he looked both tense and guilty as he loosened his grip.
“I’m fine,” she murmured.
Before she could ask why he was still here, he tugged up her sleeve again, expression dark.
“Let me see.”
“…” She froze, embarrassed. “That’s… not appropriate…”
To show him the wound, she’d have to bare half her shoulder. And considering their master-disciple relationship—absolutely improper. The thought alone made her uneasy.
Pei Yuan said nothing, his lips pressed into a hard line.
“…”
Bai Yuheng sighed. She’d never been able to handle that silent, intense stare of his. Finally, she gave in.
She slipped off her outer robe, fingers moving to loosen her inner layer—when his hand suddenly stopped her.
She looked up, startled—only to see his face turning red. From his neck to his ears, to his cheeks, a deep blush spread, and his eyes darted away helplessly.
“…” Bai Yuheng nearly laughed. He had been so stern a moment ago, now he was the one flustered. “Does Master still wish to look?” she teased.
“…”
Pei Yuan shot her a glare—clearly catching the mischief in her tone.
“Let me treat you.” His voice was rough.
“Oh.” She composed herself quickly. If he didn’t mind, neither would she. It was just treatment—not… anything else.
With that thought, she calmly exposed her shoulder.
“…”
Pei Yuan, however, wasn’t nearly as calm. Outwardly expressionless, inwardly his heart was pounding so hard it made him dizzy.
His hands moved with practiced care, gentle and precise—checking her wound, applying salve. Occasionally, he glanced at her face, watching for signs of pain.
Her skin was smooth and luminous, cool like jade but warm against his palm—so soft it seemed to burn.
He removed the old bandage, revealing a gash deep enough to expose raw flesh, the edges still bleeding from when he had grabbed her earlier.
His brows drew together tightly, lips pressed pale.
“You call this nothing serious?” he said sharply.
Bai Yuheng looked sheepish. “It’s really not that bad. Cen Ying already applied medicine. I can move it fine, see?”
His glare silenced her instantly. She lowered her voice, mumbling, “Okay, maybe a little bad…”
“I have the Emperor Yuan Guang’s healing salve. It will mend faster,” he said curtly.
“Thank you, Master.”
He didn’t reply, focusing on his task.
The silence grew heavy. Bai Yuheng, uncomfortable, finally tried to make conversation. “Um, Master, may I ask something—if it’s not too forward?”
He glanced up, then down again. “If you think it’s rude, then don’t ask.”
“…”
She stared at him, exasperated. How had the sweet, shy boy from a century ago turned into this sharp-tongued, cold-faced man?
Ah, time. Men really do change.
Pei Yuan, catching her sulky expression, hid a small smirk as he tied off the fresh bandage.
“Go ahead,” he said evenly. “Ask. I might not answer.”
“…” She twitched a smile, then carefully phrased her words. “It’s just… I noticed you and Emperor Yuan Guang don’t seem to…” She paused, searching for a polite term.
Pei Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Get along?”
“…You said it, not me,” she muttered.
He gave her a long look. She had only just noticed? Their rift had existed for over a hundred years—ever since they first met, they had been natural opposites.
Yuan Guang considered him unruly, manipulative, and undeserving of his master, Hengluan the Celestial Empress.
And Pei Yuan—
His gaze softened as he studied her face, as if trying to see through her mortal disguise to the truth beneath.
Did she truly not know what was in his heart?