Shen Qinghe blinked. “You mean… you can’t sleep, right?”
The white-haired youth thought for a moment, then nodded.
For thousands of years, he had never truly fallen asleep. Even during his dormancy period, he could still perceive everything happening in the outside world.
He recalled watching the girl in the space, sleeping sprawled out without a care in the world, completely defenseless. He doubted he could ever achieve such a state in his lifetime.
The girl pulled open a corner of the blanket and patted it gently, mumbling, “Fine, come up then.”
Lizhu sat down, puzzled. “And then?”
“Lie down.” Shen Qinghe said, then lay down herself first.
Lizhu followed suit and lay down as well.
“And then?” he asked.
“Close your eyes.”
Lizhu closed his eyes, but after a few breaths, he still wasn’t sleepy. Just as he was about to open them again, a soft, delicate force gently patted his arm. “Be a good baby, go to sleep now…”
The girl hummed a tune that sounded like a lullaby, her patting so light it was almost negligible. No one had ever treated him like this before.
If you called it harmful—he had no wounds, and it didn’t hurt.
If you called it harmless—that place in his chest began beating irregularly again.
He could only interpret it as another tactic humans used against him, even stickier than those sappy words.
Gradually, the force grew lighter, until finally that small hand drooped down, resting limply at his side.
Lizhu’s gaze darkened as he looked at the girl beside him, already fast asleep. Moonlight spilled across her profile, casting a faint shadow. Her breathing was as light as a feather—gentle, quiet, and fragile, as if the slightest force would snuff out her life entirely.
And in truth, that was exactly the case.
A chill drifted in through the window, and the tea in the cup silently froze solid.
The sleeping girl seemed to sense it too, instinctively curling toward the source of warmth beside her.
Lizhu’s body stiffened.
This woman—even in her sleep, she wanted to dual cultivate with him?
Forget it.
He closed his eyes.
The chill drew closer. Without even looking, Lizhu condensed black energy into a ball and hurled it out the window. Whatever it struck let out a shriek and fled, scrambling and tumbling away.
The room gradually warmed up.
The girl seemed to feel a bit hot and shifted away.
Lizhu threw off the blanket covering them both.
The girl’s body gradually drifted back, automatically burrowing into his arms.
A faint, barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of the white-haired youth’s lips.
…
Shen Qinghe slept very well that night. It was only when she opened her eyes and saw the white-haired youth right in front of her that she nearly startled herself right off the bed.
Lizhu was already awake, his white hair spread messily across the bed. His clothes were slightly disheveled, his collar hanging wide open, revealing a lean, powerful chest with a hint of abdominal muscles visible.
The youth’s thin lips moved slightly. “Awake?”
Shen Qinghe nodded shamelessly and swallowed hard.
Only then did she remember what had happened last night.
When she’d asked Lizhu to come to bed yesterday, she hadn’t thought much of it—she figured he was a gentleman and wouldn’t do anything improper.
As it turned out, he indeed wouldn’t do anything improper. The improper one was her.
Lizhu straightened his clothes and said calmly, “Then let’s get up.”
He didn’t mention last night at all.
Shen Qinghe felt even more guilty. She really was a terrible person—he was so upright, and she’d taken advantage of him.
Seeing him about to leave, and having no treasures on hand at the moment, she looked at his retreating back and blurted out, “Let me comb your hair for you.”
Lizhu’s white hair was always left loose, though of course, his hair quality was excellent—even uncombed, it fell in soft, silky strands.
But a little grooming would make it look even better.
Following her memory, Shen Qinghe braided his hair and secured it with a red jade hairpin. “See, doesn’t this look nice?”
Lizhu glanced left and right, his dark eyes lighting up as he nodded several times. “It looks nice.”
Seeing how easily satisfied he was, Shen Qinghe felt even more like a terrible person.
Tonight, absolutely nothing like last night could happen.
When they finished tidying up and pushed open the door, heavy snow was already falling outside.
A cold wind swept in—fortunately, the clothes she wore were a Magic Treasure that warded off the cold.
Even so, she felt a bone-piercing chill that seemed to seep through her skin and sink into the marrow of her bones.
It wasn’t until Lizhu walked up beside her that Shen Qinghe instantly stopped feeling cold.
“The weather in Alchemy City is so strange.” Shen Qinghe brushed aside a cluster of branches, where the flowers were still in full bloom.
“Will these flowers die?” Shen Qinghe asked.
Lizhu: “Do you want them to die?”
Shen Qinghe shook her head. “No. The flowers are beautiful—of course I want them to thrive.”
Lizhu waved a hand, and the accumulated snow in the courtyard vanished in an instant, the flowers blooming anew.
Shen Qinghe looked at him with sparkling eyes. “You’re amazing.”
“It’s just a low-level spell.”
Even though he called it a low-level spell, Shen Qinghe hadn’t managed to learn it.
That wasn’t because she wasn’t serious—it was because the spells here were too difficult, comparable to advanced mathematics at a modern university, and she was just a struggling student.
Originally, with her brother protecting her, she could do whatever she pleased without worrying about the future.
But now, she needed to worry, so of course she had to study hard.
She looked at Lizhu sincerely. “Brother Lizhu, how about I take you as my master? Please, please—I want to learn something from you. I’ll kowtow to you right now.”
With that, she started to kneel, but Lizhu pulled her up in one motion, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “I don’t take disciples.”
Shen Qinghe looked at him with pleading eyes. “Really not possible?”
“…”
As if annoyed by her persistence, Lizhu said in a calm voice, “I can teach you, but I am not your master.”
“Great, great!” Shen Qinghe nodded happily. After all, she just wanted to learn something, and she figured Lizhu probably disliked the formalities of taking a master anyway.
The two left the courtyard, and the roads were nearly empty along the way.
The whole world seemed to be just the two of them.
But when they had arrived last night—even though it was the middle of the night—there were still many disciples walking along the paths.
Lizhu, however, remained perfectly calm, strolling along at a leisurely pace.
Shen Qinghe felt a bit flustered. She called out several times, and suddenly a door to an alchemy room swung open. A person with a soot-covered face and a veil dashed out, snapping at them irritably, “What’s all the noise about? Can’t you see I’m busy?!”
Shen Qinghe looked the person up and down several times before recognizing her.
“You’re Chu Yueshuang? Did your alchemy cauldron explode?”
Only then did Chu Yueshuang realize what she must look like. She coughed twice. “Nothing of the sort. When you’re refining medicine, a dark face is normal.”
“Let me take a look.”
Shen Qinghe walked around her and headed straight for the alchemy room.
Chu Yueshuang hurried after her, but it was already too late to stop her—Shen Qinghe had already seen what was inside.
Shen Qinghe had been to Spirit Medicine Valley before and had seen alchemy rooms, but this one had walls blackened with soot, and the alchemy cauldron was covered in dark grime—nothing like the clean, tidy rooms she’d seen before.
On the floor, there were several piles of black lumps that barely held their shape, crumbling to powder at the slightest step.
“Where are your medicinal pills?” Shen Qinghe asked.
Chu Yueshuang replied irritably, “Right under your feet.”
Shen Qinghe quickly lifted her foot, but saw nothing but black ash. “How did you manage to refine pills into this state?”
Chu Yueshuang’s face suddenly turned wary. “It was just a small failure.”
Shen Qinghe glanced around the room. “Are you sure this was just one failure?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. Now get out—the alchemy room is a restricted area, outsiders aren’t allowed to linger. Head to the main hall; cultivators from the other sects have already gathered there.” Chu Yueshuang shoved at them, trying to make them leave.
The next instant, her body froze in place, unable to move. All she could do was glare at them. “What did you do to me?”
Shen Qinghe looked at Lizhu, who remained perfectly composed. “Didn’t you want to stay here a while longer?”
And since Chu Yueshuang wanted her to leave, she was naturally immobilized.
Shen Qinghe thought that this person could be rather unscrupulous at times—insisting on seeing things others didn’t want to show.
Still, she found it rather amusing.
Shen Qinghe recalled from the book that after the male lead took the treasure, Spirit Medicine Valley rapidly declined and soon vanished without a trace.
She had previously assumed it was because the male lead had taken their fortune, leaving the valley with no purpose, and so it disappeared.
But now, it seemed there was more to it than that.
Remembering all the strange things Chu Yueshuang had done earlier, Shen Qinghe looked around and guessed, “Have you been failing at pill refinement all along?”
Spirit Medicine Valley was famous for its pills—most major sects purchased their medicinal pills from them. So while the valley might not match other sects in magic treasures or cultivation methods, they absolutely never lacked for money.
If they were short on funds, it could only be because…
Chu Yueshuang snorted coldly. “Nonsense. How could someone from Spirit Medicine Valley keep failing at pill refinement? We can succeed with ease.”
Shen Qinghe walked up to her, smiling sweetly. “I’ve heard that the veil of a Spirit Medicine Valley disciple can only be removed by their Dao Companion. If I were to take off your veil, would I have to marry you?”
Chu Yueshuang’s face flushed red and then darkened. “Shen Qinghe, you wouldn’t dare!”
“Then will you tell me or not?”
Chu Yueshuang closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Just kill me.”