It was spring once again.
The late spring mountain breeze still carried a lingering chill, swirling up a few late-falling peach blossom petals that danced and landed in the Vegetable Garden where tender sprouts had just emerged.
Arthur was crouching under the grape trellis, checking on how the few vines he had transplanted last year had fared through the winter.
His fingertips brushed against the rough stems, feeling the faint pulse of life beneath the bark.
He was calculating whether he could try brewing some grape wine this year.
Faint footsteps came from the mountain path in the distance; it wasn’t just one person.
He stood up, patted the dirt off his hands, and looked up.
Fu Hua’s figure emerged from the verdant forest, her green robes unchanged and her steps steady.
But Arthur’s gaze instantly bypassed her, landing at her side—or rather, half a step behind her, on the small hand tightly clutching a corner of her sleeve.
Here we go again.
The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched imperceptibly.
That bit of leisure he had regarding the grape wine evaporated instantly, replaced by a familiar chill—a mix of helplessness and a deeper premonition.
This time it was seven days.
Two days longer than when she picked up Lin Chaoyu.
He followed the small hand upward and saw an exceptionally tiny figure.
She was only as tall as Fu Hua’s thigh, wrapped in dusty old clothes made of rough fabric that were clearly ill-fitting.
Her feet were bare and covered in mud.
But the most striking thing was her hair—even under the dim twilight and the layer of dust, it still showed a vibrant vermilion color, like a raging fire, hanging messily and obscuring most of her face.
Fu Hua approached and stopped in front of Arthur.
“Master.” Arthur bowed with cupped hands, his face quickly donning the impeccable, warm smile of an “Eldest Senior Brother,” though his gaze swept rapidly over Fu Hua.
Her clothes had minor signs of wear and dust, but there seemed to be no new tears or bloodstains.
It seemed…
she wasn’t seriously injured?
He felt a slight relief, but then tensed up again—no serious injury didn’t mean she hadn’t encountered trouble, and it certainly didn’t mean this new “trouble” was minor.
“Mm.” Fu Hua responded, her voice somewhat low and raspy, carrying a faint weariness from the long journey.
She seemed to want to say something, her lips moving slightly.
However, Arthur had already naturally crouched down, his eye level equal to the tiny figure hiding behind Fu Hua, who only showed half her body and a head of red hair.
His smile became even softer, carrying a sense of reassurance.
“Hello there, little one.
Are you tired after following my Master all this way?” His voice was very light, as if afraid of startling a bird.
“My name is Arthur, and I am Master’s disciple.
What is your name?”
That mass of fiery red hair moved, and a small face peeked out cautiously from behind Fu Hua’s leg.
On that dirty little face, a pair of black eyes filled with the wariness of a small animal flickered toward Arthur for a split second before shrinking back as if burned.
She pressed herself even tighter against Fu Hua’s leg, her small hand clutching the sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white.
Arthur’s hand, which he had extended mid-air to show friendliness, froze awkwardly.
The smile on his face stiffened for a moment.
“Tsk.” A very faint sound of clicking her tongue, filled with obvious displeasure, came from the side.
Lin Chaoyu had walked over at some point and was standing behind and to the side of Arthur.
The seventeen-year-old girl’s stature was starting to mature, and her face was elegant, but her brow was currently furrowed.
Her pale gold eyes stared at the mass of red hair behind Fu Hua, clearly reflecting her dissatisfaction.
What a rude wild child of unknown origin.
Senior Brother is speaking to her so gently, and she actually hides?
A small flame of irritation flickered in Lin Chaoyu’s heart, though it was unclear if it was rejection of the child or heartache for her Senior Brother’s momentary embarrassment. This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
Fu Hua’s gaze had originally been on Arthur’s back as he crouched.
Seeing him bow and offer greetings, she had subconsciously intended to use her usual brief and flat words to shut down his potential questioning—’I am fine,’ ‘It is a small matter,’ ‘No need to worry.’
This was the defense that had become almost instinctive for her over the years when facing concern.
However, after Arthur’s greeting, he did not continue to keep his gaze and words on her as she expected, not even to ask the customary “Is Master well?” He went straight down to ask the child.
The words at the tip of Fu Hua’s tongue were swallowed back in silence.
She looked at Arthur’s broad shoulders as he crouched, watched him give the child that familiar, gentle, and patient smile, and heard his softened voice…
Her heart suddenly felt as if it had been pricked by an extremely fine needle.
It was very light, very fast, almost impossible to catch.
But that momentary, subtle feeling of emptiness was real.
She was slightly dazed, her long lashes drooping to hide the flicker of bewilderment in her eyes.
What was…
wrong with her?
Why would she have such pointless emotions?
It was only right for Zhaoer to care for the new child; it was his responsibility and kindness as the Eldest Senior Brother.
It was just…
She took an imperceptible breath, suppressing that inexplicable anomaly.
Perhaps her mind was simply weary from the days of traveling.
A silence fell over the scene, broken only by the rustling of the mountain wind through the Bamboo Forest and the Vegetable Garden.
The red-haired child shrank behind Fu Hua, not daring to breathe; Lin Chaoyu stared over there with pursed lips; Arthur remained in his crouch, his smile becoming strained; and Fu Hua was immersed in that fleeting self-analysis.
This silence was more agonizing than expected.