Tears fell one by one.
His vision was somewhat blurry. Rong Xuanhe blinked, staring intently at the floor as if acting as though nothing had happened were possible just by refusing to look at anyone.
Until a pair of black cloth boots intruded into his field of vision.
Su Wenchuan stood before him, gently wiping away the tears at the corners of his eyes with the pad of his thumb, and asked in a low voice, “Crying?”
Rong Xuanhe instinctively averted his face, “No.”
He wiped indiscriminately across his face, his peripheral vision catching those two young servants still standing nearby. Embarrassment washed over him for a moment, and he turned to walk right out the door.
Su Wenchuan immediately pulled him back, “Where are you going?”
The young man yanked back his wrist, his voice still carrying a heavy nasal resonance, and spoke word for word, “I don’t know.”
Anywhere else would be fine; he did not want to stay here for another second.
Tears fell once more. Rong Xuanhe pressed his lips tightly together, shuffling outward step by step with only a single thought running through his head: How utterly humiliating.
This wasn’t the first time he had heard such harsh words, nor was it the first time he had faced a helpless, isolated situation. Why was he still crying?
Was he really that useless?
“Stop right there.”
Before he had even taken two steps, his whole body was yanked back in front of Su Wenchuan once more.
Su Wenchuan glanced at the servants standing nearby, “You two, step down.”
The servants heaved sighs of relief as if a heavy burden had been lifted, bowing their heads before silently retreating outside.
Rong Xuanhe still refused to raise his head, his head feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds as he kept it buried. It wasn’t until Su Wenchuan reached out to pinch his chin, forcibly lifting it upward, that the full face of tears was revealed.
A flash of startled bewilderment crossed the man’s eyes, and he instantly softened his movements.
Pausing for a moment, his voice involuntarily lowered, “Why are you crying so badly?”
Rong Xuanhe allowed his chin to be pinched, his eyelashes clumped together and dampened by tears, the tip of his nose flushed red.
Resignation seemed to have already settled over him. The tears were still falling, yet he offered no struggle, as if anyone could come along and bully him into such a state, a sight that left one feeling choked up with frustration.
“You.”
Before Su Wenchuan could finish his sentence, the young man raised his hand and wiped away his own tears.
His lips pressed together into a line, and through his tear-blurred vision, he lifted his gaze to offer Su Wenchuan a soft, apologetic smile, “I’m sorry.”
Conflict could not be afforded here. He was a stranger in a strange land, still needing to rely on Su Wenchuan. At least before leaving the Den of Iniquity, this backing could not be lost.
Seeing that Su Wenchuan remained silent, he spoke again with a heavy nasal tone, “I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous without your permission. I will change, and I will never act like that again. Can you please not chase me away?”
His tone was infinitely humble, as though being driven away meant having nowhere else on earth to go.
“When did I ever say I was going to chase you away?”
Su Wenchuan’s gaze grew increasingly solemn. Releasing his grip, he said indifferently, “Just now, it was I who spoke without thinking.”
Rong Xuanhe looked up in astonishment, as if he hadn’t expected those words. A brief silence hung between the two of them before Su Wenchuan turned around and said, “Come back and eat breakfast.”
The young man let out a small, subdued affirmation, obediently returning to sit down at the table.
Both of them tacitly avoided mentioning the previous altercation. Rong Xuanhe ate his food in small, delicate bites; once his stomach was full, the color in his face recovered somewhat.
He sneaked a glance at Su Wenchuan, wanting to ask “Aren’t you eating?” but fearing that running his mouth too much would bring a scolding.
At that moment, Su Wenchuan glanced at him as well, raising a hand to rest against his wrist.
Rong Xuanhe had no idea what the man was doing, only seeing two fingers pressing against his pulse like a doctor taking a pulse. Soon after, a wave of warmth surged in, circulating through his body as if it possessed a life of its own. The spots that had been aching faintly just moments before actually stopped hurting entirely after being brushed over by that warm current.
He found it rather novel. Having acted in over a dozen cultivation micro-dramas, this was his very first time personally experiencing the so-called spiritual energy.
Well, it was practically no different from hot water, except that it swam around and felt a bit uncomfortable.
After a moment, Su Wenchuan withdrew his hand, his expression revealing neither joy nor anger.
Emptied of fear, Rong Xuanhe cautiously opened his mouth, “Senior, is there something wrong with my body?”
Su Wenchuan stared at him, his lips moving as if he were about to frown again. Yet, seeing the instinctive look of tension on Rong Xuanhe’s face, he ultimately softened his tone somewhat, “Where is your spiritual energy?”
Rong Xuanhe felt a thump in his heart, a flash of guilt flickering across the bottom of his eyes.
Naturally, he had no spiritual energy upon transmigrating here, but he had no idea whether these top courtesans produced by the Den of Iniquity possessed any spiritual energy or not. He had heard that some courtesans were treated as cauldrons, and cauldrons should probably have at least a bit of spiritual energy, right?
It was all the system’s fault for not giving him a single shred of spiritual energy, only ever knowing how to make him do tasks.
He stammered evasively, “I am dull-witted and haven’t cultivated it out yet.”
Su Wenchuan simply stared straight at him, seemingly disbelieving his words.
Rong Xuanhe broke out in a cold sweat, terrified that the man might see through him, and hastily added a dry sentence, “If Senior doesn’t find me lacking, I will definitely ask Senior for guidance and study diligently to cultivate spiritual energy as soon as possible.”
Diligent and motivated, surely that couldn’t go wrong, right? Su Wenchuan couldn’t possibly scold him for this as well, could he?
Sure enough, Su Wenchuan’s expression deepened, but he ultimately refrained from uttering a refusal, saying only in an indifferent tone, “Are you full? If you are full, prepare to set off.”
Rong Xuanhe immediately put down his chopsticks and nodded obediently, “Mm-mm.”
He had no luggage to pack. Su Wenchuan told him to return to his room and wait, then summoned the innkeeper, presumably to issue some instructions.
Rong Xuanhe waited for a while. The sense of security brought by a full stomach gradually relaxed him. Hearing no movement from the neighboring room, he simply pushed open the window to look down at the street view below.
He had arrived right inside the Den of Iniquity when he transmigrated, and been redeemed in the dead of night, leaving him no time to properly observe the full appearance of this place.
The young man poked his head out to look around, vaguely hearing people talking downstairs.
“Yesterday’s jinx, truly, who doesn’t know the Den of Iniquity always, actually, even dared to offend?”
“You don’t know this, but at the time, guarding inside the hall, and as a result.”
“Could it be that this person’s background, Divine Shaman? It must be!”
Rong Xuanhe’s attention was caught, and he concentrated hard to listen, yet he couldn’t make out any clear words, only managing to piece together that some extraordinary big shot seemed to have arrived at the Den of Iniquity yesterday, someone called a Shaman, whose background was so massive that even the people behind the Den of Iniquity didn’t dare to provoke him.
What a pity that he missed out on such a great spectacle.
He wanted to hear a few more sentences, but someone suddenly knocked on the door from outside.
“Open the door.”
Su Wenchuan’s voice came through.
Rong Xuanhe hurried over to open the door, and the other party handed over a stack of garments, “Change into these.”
The fabric of this set of clothes was exceptionally soft, superior by countless degrees to the see-through gauze garment he had been wearing earlier. It was delicate, pliable, just right in thickness, and perfectly suited for the weather of this season.
Rong Xuanhe expressed his thanks and was about to close the door to change clothes when Su Wenchuan walked straight inside.
Seeing that the man evidently intended to stand guard while he changed, Rong Xuanhe’s expression stiffened slightly, though he dared not raise any objections.
Su Wenchuan had acted like that earlier, so he shouldn’t harbor any ulterior motives, he thought apprehensively.
The young man untied his gauze robe, ducked slightly into the corner shielded by the bed curtains, and slipped into the new clothes at lightning speed.
His skin exposed to the air broke out in a fine layer of goosebumps, and he kept feeling a scorching gaze fixed on him from behind. Yet, when he hastily dressed and turned around, Su Wenchuan’s expression remained calm and detached, not looking at him at all.
It must have been his imagination.
Rong Xuanhe muttered inwardly. Fortunately, having worn plenty of theatrical costumes, this outfit wasn’t difficult to put on, and within moments he had tied the sashes.
The size fit him impeccably, and the material was brand new. Could it be that it was prepared specially for him?
Seeing that he had finished dressing, Su Wenchuan turned to leave, “The carriage is downstairs.”
Rong Xuanhe asked, “Are we not flying on swords?”
Su Wenchuan did not answer. His strides were long, quickly disappearing around the staircase corner, and Rong Xuanhe hurried to follow.
Several servants waited at the entrance of the main hall, and the innkeeper’s attitude was much more deferential than last night, stepping forward with a beaming smile to bow and scrape, “Exalted one, the carriage is already prepared. If there is anything else not to your satisfaction, this lowly one will dispatch people to handle it immediately!”
A young servant trotted forward to pull open the carriage doors, respectfully lifting the curtain.
Golden lotus bells hung from the four corners of the carriage, chiming melodiously whenever the wind blew. Outwardly, it appeared immensely towering and luxurious, while the interior was wide enough for an entire person to lie down horizontally. The three-sided seating formed a door shape around a low gold-threaded wooden table in the center. The seats were upholstered in soft, fluffy fur, and an arm’s-length porch area had been specially partitioned near the doorway, complete with steps to ensure a gentle slope when climbing up.
The horses pulling the carriage were also top-tier spiritual steeds, their bodies shimmering with a faint white light, a pair of wings sprouting from their backs, and a glance made it clear they could tread the empty air.
Such an array was typically reserved for elders of major sects when venturing out. Sitting inside must have been indescribably comfortable; Rong Xuanhe found it somewhat novel, feeling it wasn’t all that different from certain extended luxury cars.
Su Wenchuan, however, furrowed his brows slightly and instructed, “Bring another down quilt.”
The innkeeper repeatedly agreed, ordering a servant to fetch a soft quilt that was both light and fluffy. Only then did Su Wenchuan board the carriage.
Just as Rong Xuanhe was about to follow, his waist was caught and gently pulled by the man, and by the time he regained his wits, he was already sitting securely inside the vehicle.
The carriage curtains dropped, the double doors closed, and accompanied by the tinkling chime of colliding lotus bells, the carriage began its smooth departure.
Rong Xuanhe curiously lifted the window curtain to look outside. This was far smoother than flying on a sword; not a single jolt could be felt, and in the blink of an eye, the view had already left the streets far behind.
Only from this vantage point could the full panorama of the Den of Iniquity be seen.
The streets and alleys were laid out in a strict grid, situated in the low-lying central area of the mountain range. Its scale could well be considered a small city, surrounded on all sides by winding rivers. If one wanted to escape, relying solely on two legs would make it an absolute impossibility.
Rong Xuanhe looked on with a lingering sense of fear. Fortunately, he hadn’t acted rashly yesterday; otherwise, being caught and dragged back would have been miserable.
“In the middle of thinking about how to run away?”
The indifferent voice rang out like a death warrant.
The young man jumped, his conditioned reflexes kicking in, “How did you know? Oh, no, how could I ever dare to run?”
He dropped the window curtain, opening his eyes wide with an expression of absolute sincerity as he looked at the person opposite him, “I’m too late to rely on Senior, so I beg Senior not to cast me aside.”
Since he was stranded in the middle of nowhere without any footing, he had to butter this man up a little more.
Su Wenchuan was not deceived by his outward facade, saying coolly, “Aren’t you the best at running away? No need for such false modesty.”
The best at running away? What was he talking about?
A trace of confusion flashed through Rong Xuanhe’s mind. He wondered if the original body had tried to escape before and been caught by the madam.
Sensibly choosing not to press the matter, he lowered his head to twist his fingers together, chuckling dryly, “I won’t run.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the system’s voice triggered unceremoniously.
[The time limit for the Sweet Breakfast task has ended. Task completion failed.]
[Given that this is the host’s first failure, the system has issued a compensation task. Please complete it in a timely manner, or face punishment after today ends.]
[Triggered Compensation Task: Carriage Solitude]
[Please host sit on your husband’s lap and act spoiled once.]