Lin Qingyun smiled as he looked at He Zhuoming. She thought for a moment, and seeing that he remained quiet without understanding his intent, she offered a friendly smile in return. Turning around, she picked up the waterskin he had just set down and gulped down the liquid in heavy, thirsty swallows.
The water in his skin tasted sweet.
Once she had drunk her fill, He Zhuoming wiped her mouth and looked down, only to find her wrists and sleeves caked in dirt.
Now that she was full and hydrated, having satisfied her most basic survival needs, higher-level desires naturally surfaced: she desperately wanted to bathe. If she could wash up with hot water, that would be even better.
Setting the waterskin down, she stole a glance at Lin Qingyun, who was still gazing at her with that faint smile. He Zhuoming couldn’t help but wonder to herself: *What is he smiling about? And why does he keep staring at me?*
Lin Qingyun was waiting for He Zhuoming to clarify how her name was written.
Usually, when people introduced themselves to him, they would write out the characters after speaking their names.
Yet He Zhuoming hesitated for a long while before asking, “Um… male—Lin, Lin…”
Lin Qingyun replied, “Just call me Qingyun.”
He Zhuoming let out a sigh of relief. “Ah, Qingyun—I’d like to take a warm bath. Could I borrow a set of clean clothes from you?”
Hearing such a request for the first time, Lin Qingyun blinked, not answering immediately.
Oblivious, He Zhuoming stared at him expectantly after asking. When he didn’t speak for a few moments, she didn’t suspect he was unwilling, but simply thought the male lead was a bit slow to react.
Their eyes met in a brief spell of silence.
Ultimately, Lin Qingyun offered a smile and said, “Of course. There’s a stove in the woodshed over there, and the well is right beside it. If you want a warm bath, you can draw water and heat it up.”
“Here, take this candle to light your way inside.”
He Zhuoming watched as he flicked his wrist, a white candle appearing in his palm as if by magic.
Accepting the candle, she stared at Lin Qingyun’s hand with open curiosity. Her expression was so blatantly obvious that Lin Qingyun noticed and voluntarily explained, “I possess a mustard-seed realm, similar to the storage pouches ordinary cultivators carry, which can store small trinkets. These items were stored inside from the beginning; they didn’t appear out of thin air.”
He Zhuoming nodded repeatedly, pretending to realize, “I see—”
In truth, she hadn’t understood a word. Whenever she encountered descriptions of magical artifacts or filler combat scenes in web novels, she had always skipped right past them.
Still, the male lead was genuinely kind; he had offered an explanation before she even asked. Thinking back to how she used to curse him in the comment section for risking his life to save any woman he met, calling him an irredeemable saint, He Zhuoming felt thoroughly ashamed.
Holding the candle, she looked at the male lead with sincere eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
Lin Qingyun maintained his smile. “?”
He waited for her next words, only for He Zhuoming to turn and run off immediately after apologizing, leaving Lin Qingyun standing there alone in bewildered smile.
He tilted his head in confusion, watching her retreating back. The young girl brought the candle to the bonfire to catch a flame, and once lit, she carried it over to the well to draw water.
A wooden bucket sat right next to the well. Judging its size to be manageable, He Zhuoming assumed she could carry it. She inspected the windlass, awkwardly tying the bucket to the rope before lowering it down into the dark well.
The night was pitch-black, and the candle flame couldn’t reach the bottom. Unsure of the well’s depth, He Zhuoming kept lowering the bucket further down.
As she repeatedly turned the windlass, her mind relaxed and began to wander. One moment she thought about her bundle of gold and pearls, wondering how currency worked in this world, how much the gold was worth, and whether it would be enough to live on; the next moment, she wondered how to use the stove, or if taking a cold bath would be fine instead.
She had never done manual chores before. In all her life, she had never even washed her own socks, so operating a traditional firewood stove to boil water was entirely beyond her.
Musing over these scattered thoughts, she hauled the water-filled bucket up and dragged it into the woodshed.
The flickering candlelight cast dim, swaying shadows across the woodshed. Using the light, He Zhuoming surveyed the room. Failing to figure out how to work the stove, her eyes landed on a sickle leaning against the wall, and she reached out to set it nearby.
Naturally, she didn’t know how to use a sickle either.
Yet having a weapon within arm’s reach gave her a sense of security. As for the utterly incomprehensible stove, He Zhuoming gave up entirely, deciding to settle for a cold bath.
Finding a wooden tub large enough, she poured the cold water inside. Realizing it wasn’t nearly enough, she made two more trips until the tub was half full.
Seeing that she was nearly finished, Lin Qingyun walked over to the woodshed window, placing a set of clean clothes, shoes, and socks on the sill. “I’ve left the clothes here. I’ll be right by the bonfire; if you encounter anything strange, feel free to call out.”
He Zhuoming asked in confusion, “Strange things, like…”
Lin Qingyun offered a subtle, smiling hint, “Foul deities usually attract many wicked spirits and ghosts to aid their tyranny.”
While his smile was endearing, his words were terrifying.
Recalling the bizarre face of that statue, He Zhuoming shuddered and nodded repeatedly, “I-I’ll be careful!”
Having cautioned her, Lin Qingyun turned and walked away, gentlemanly keeping his back turned squarely toward the woodshed window.
He Zhuoming didn’t notice this detail at all. Taking the clothes, she shut the window—and after staring at it for a moment, she cracked it open just a sliver again.
Stripping off her clothes, shoes, and socks, she stepped into the tub, only to find the well water far colder than expected. Shivering from the chill, she wept a few aggrieved tears while cementing a firm resolve: *She absolutely had to find a way back to modern times!*
She just didn’t know how to return.
*How did I transmigrate into this world in the first place?*
He Zhuoming bit her finger and tried hard to remember, but those memories were hazy, like looking at flowers through a thick fog, entirely obscured.
She could neither recall how she transmigrated nor keep hold of the original novel’s plot, which was rapidly slipping away. This “forgetting” felt unnatural, as if an eraser were wiping away her memories while she remained powerless to stop it.
The more she tried to recall, the more frightened she grew from the hazy voids in her mind. Overcome by fear, tears streamed down her face once again. Suddenly, the image of the male lead’s smiling face—complete with those deep dimples—flashed into her mind.
The male lead was so kind, certified by the original text as a man who would never lie to a woman—could he perhaps help her?
Hesitating, He Zhuoming crept closer to the cracked opening of the window. The icy well water in the tub rippled gently with her movement.
Leaning against the window sill, she peeked through the slit: the outside was dark, the unsteady flicker of the bonfire tracing the dim silhouette of the young man sitting with his back to her.
His ear pendant was particularly striking. Made of an unknown material, it sparkled like a star whenever the firelight struck it, swaying gently by his ear and drawing her gaze.
Suddenly, a gust of night wind blew across the clearing, making the bonfire flare up high. The chill made He Zhuoming shiver, and she couldn’t hold back a sudden sneeze.
Startled by her own noise, she spun around and submerged herself quietly beneath the water, her heart thumping against her chest. Unsure why she felt so tense, her wide eyes watched a trail of bubbles rise from the tip of her nose.
After a moment, running out of breath, she broke the surface awkwardly, gasping for air.
Wiping away the wet strands of hair blocking her vision, she cautiously leaned back toward the window slit to look outside—the male lead seemed to have noticed nothing, still sitting by the bonfire with his back turned, the long pendant at his ear twinkling softly.
He Zhuoming let out a sigh of relief, patting her chest. “Phew, scaring myself over nothing…”
Flicking his fingers, Lin Qingyun tossed a half-burned wind-attracting talisman into the bonfire. His eyes curved into a sweet smile as he murmured to himself, “Phew, scaring myself over nothing~”
The words he uttered matched He Zhuoming’s exact tone and intonation from moments before.
Before long, footsteps sounded from the woodshed. Lin Qingyun turned his head to look, seeing He Zhuoming walk out with dripping wet hair. Her face had been washed clean, though her eye sockets were red and slightly swollen, as if she had cried for a long time.
His clothes draped over her body were far too large; she had to roll up the sleeves and pant legs completely, exposing her wrists and half of her forearms.
The clothes Lin Qingyun had lent her were vibrant red, the fiery color contrasting sharply against her pale skin. It reminded him of the first time he saw her—when she was wearing a red bridal robe.
Though it was merely an act, that had indeed been his first time playing a groom and bowing to Heaven and Earth with a girl. During the first bow, the girl had cried so hideously that he almost didn’t want to go through with the routine, wishing instead to pull out some sweets to coax her into stopping.
Wringing her dripping hair, He Zhuoming squatted near the bonfire, hoping to use the heat from the flames to dry her hair faster.
However, before she could bring her head close to the fire, Lin Qingyun leaned his head over first.
Lin Qingyun asked out of curiosity, “What are you doing?”
His sudden proximity caught He Zhuoming off guard, and she answered a beat late, “…Drying my hair.”
Lin Qingyun grasped her shoulders, turning her body around to face him. “Leaning directly over like that will set your hair on fire. Let me help you.”
While He Zhuoming was still stunned by how strong he was—being able to hold her shoulders firmly with just one hand—Lin Qingyun had already reached out to cup her hair.
Strands of water separated from her tresses, falling to the ground below. In just a few breaths, her hair was completely restored to a dry, fluffy state.
Lin Qingyun ran his fingers through her thick black hair a couple of times before releasing his hold, smiling sweetly. “All done.”
Belatedly, He Zhuoming reached up to touch the hair he had just handled, feeling a faint sense of strangeness.
Is this the power of a womanizer’s relentless charm… Oh, wait!
What womanizer! This was pure kindness, thoughtfulness, and gentle consideration! This was the male lead’s noble character!
He Zhuoming said earnestly, “Thank you… Qingyun, you really are a good person. Thank you for lending me your clothes and helping me dry my hair.”
Lin Qingyun asked, “You’re welcome—why are your eyes so red? Have you been crying?”
He Zhuoming stuttered, “Ah…”
Lin Qingyun reached out his index finger, lightly pressing his fingertip against the corner of her eye.
His finger was ice-cold, devoid of warmth like a stone, yet after touching the corner of her eye for a moment, it gradually absorbed the warmth of her skin.
Unaccustomed to the gesture, He Zhuoming blinked, her lashes brushing against his fingertip.
She said, “The well water for the bath was too cold… so I cried for a bit.”
Lin Qingyun realized, “I see.”
He withdrew his hand, instantly creating distance between them—He Zhuoming noticed that he was wearing a red robe identical to the one she wore.
Earlier, she hadn’t looked closely and assumed he hadn’t taken off the groom’s attire.
It turned out not to be the groom’s outfit after all.
She touched the corner of her eye; the skin Lin Qingyun had just touched still felt slightly cold.
A normal person’s hands wouldn’t be that cold, especially in the middle of summer—yet unfortunately, He Zhuoming still failed to realize the anomaly.
The sound of approaching hooves sounded in the distance. He Zhuoming raised her head toward the sound: through the faint twilight, the piebald horse ambled over at a leisurely pace.
It held an iron shovel in its mouth.
Walking up to the pair, the piebald horse loosened its jaws and dropped the shovel. Lin Qingyun stood up, patted the horse’s neck, and praised it with a smile, “Good horse, good horse—”
He Zhuoming stood up as well, watching the horse with curiosity.
It was a magnificent, tall steed, standing almost as high as her neck. Its coat glinted with a rich luster, as though wrapped in a sheet of fine silk.
Grabbing the reins attached to the bridle with one hand and taking the shovel with the other, Lin Qingyun turned to He Zhuoming and said, “Daybreak is approaching~ Hurry and ride Qingyang out of the mountains to find your relatives.”
He Zhuoming looked up at the sky: the sun had not yet risen, but the sky was indeed brightening. The moon and stars faded like washed-out colors, hanging dimly at the edge of the horizon.