“Alright, alright, big brother won’t beat him anymore.”
Terrified of driving another wedge into their relationship, the City Lord quickly coaxed her, “As long as he serves you wholeheartedly, stops giving you attitude, and quits thinking about running away, big brother promises you—whatever he wants, I’ll give him. Even if it’s the entire Qingzhou.”
Sang Nian set down her bowl. “Understood. Anything else?”
“Big brother called you here because I have something to give you.”
At this, his expression turned slightly awkward. He offered two dry coughs before pulling a coverless book from the very back of his bookshelf.
“You must diligently study the contents of this. It will be good for your health.”
Sang Nian took it, and just as she moved to flip it open, his hand pressed down over the cover.
“Read it back in your room.”
“Got it.” She slipped it into her sleeve with a casual flick. “Anything else? If not, I’m heading back.”
“Go on, then.”
He raised a hand as if to pat her head, but paused mid-air. Finally, his hand settled gently onto her shoulder, and he said softly, “Remember to take your medicine on time. Big brother will come check on you later.”
Sang Nian left alongside the maid waiting outside the door.
They hadn’t walked far when an armored man strode rapidly toward them, a grave expression etched across his face.
Catching sight of Sang Nian on the path, he gave her a brief nod and marched straight into the study.
“Did something happen in the city? Why does Commander Lin look so grim?” the maid wondered aloud.
Reaching out, Sang Nian caught a fluttering pear blossom carried by the wind, her gaze lowering as she remained silent.
A monster had appeared in Qingzhou City.
According to the plot, in another half a month, the protagonist team would arrive to capture the demon.
That would also be the time when she and Xie Chenzhou would leave.
She opened her hand, letting the petal drift away as she gazed toward the distance.
The Xiaoyao Sect…
What kind of place would that be?
“Is Xie Chenzhou doing any better?”
Upon returning to her living quarters, the Hall of String Melodies, Sang Nian’s first priority was checking up on Xie Chenzhou’s injuries.
“He’s been given the medicine, and the physician has examined him. As long as he rests for a few days, he should be right as rain,” Chun’er replied, offering a bowl of pitch-black medicinal broth. She added gently, “My lady, you need to take your medicine too.”
Frowning, Sang Nian took the bowl, held her breath, and downed it in one go.
Chun’er looked baffled. “How come you drank it without needing to be coaxed today?”
“Either way, I have to drink it sooner or later,” Sang Nian said, her features contorted in bitter agony. “And I don’t feel like dying young just yet.”
“Pft, pft, pft! My lady is going to live a long, healthy life.”
Chun’er brought over a small plate of candied fruit. “Quick, eat a preserved plum to get rid of the taste.”
Sucking on a sugar-soaked plum, Sang Nian’s tightly scrunched face gradually relaxed.
A thought struck her, and she picked up the plate. “Where is Xie Chenzhou?”
Chun’er cautiously peeked at her expression. “In… in that firewood shed he used to stay in.”
Sang Nian felt her vision go dark.
Heaven is truly trying to kill me.
“My lady!” Chun’er panicked, her face pale. “Are you having another spell?”
Waving a hand to signal she was fine, Sang Nian felt a crushing wave of spiritual exhaustion:
“I’m going to go see him.”
In truth, Xie Chenzhou hadn’t always been treated like this; the original host had actually pampered him at the very beginning.
Back when she first dragged him back to the City Lord’s estate on the brink of death, she had showered him with silks, satins, and exotic delicacies brought in like an endless flowing river.
Yet, he had completely turned a blind eye to her goodwill, fixating entirely on escaping.
When had the original host ever suffered such disrespect? In a fit of fury, she had tossed him straight into the firewood shed, forcing him to do heavy labor alongside the lowest-ranking slaves every single day. She had even instructed the estate servants to beat and scold him at whim, determined to break his spirit until he lowered his head to her.
And yet, Xie Chenzhou had never bowed his head.
Not even when he nearly died right here.
The firewood shed was tucked away in the most remote corner of the back courtyard. Out of its four windows, three were completely shattered, and the roof sported two massive holes—a masterpiece of a room with dead angles in all three hundred and sixty degrees.
The space inside was cramped and cluttered with towering piles of random junk. The remaining floor space barely squeezed in a rickety, wobbling table. There was no bed to speak of; a scattering of dry straw tossed onto the hard floor served as his sleeping quarters.
Standing in the doorway, Sang Nian stared anxiously at the warped wooden door, fully expecting it to blow away in the wind at any second.
It must have taken true, genuine talent for the original host to hunt down such a decrepit dumping ground inside the palatial City Lord’s residence.
“My lady, why don’t we just forget about it?”
Chun’er nagged continuously as she trailed behind. “If you want to see the young master, you can just have someone summon him over. A filthy dump like this is no place for you. Why bother dragging yourself all the way out here?”
Pretending not to hear a word, Sang Nian instructed, “All of you wait outside.”
With that, she stepped into the dilapidated room.
The room had a poor orientation; it was dark, damp, and cold inside. Because water constantly seeped through the walls year-round, a thick layer of green moss coated the corners, leaving the interior dim even in broad daylight.
Drafts poured in relentlessly from every crack and crevice, slamming against the single remaining intact window frame with a noisy rattle.
Qingzhou was a bitterly cold region, where winter temperatures could freeze dripping water instantly.
The original novel had never described how Xie Chenzhou managed to survive an entire winter in a place like this.
Yet, he grew exceptionally sensitive to the cold in later years, falling gravely ill every single winter—most likely due to the lingering root causes of this hardship.
Pulling her gaze away from her surroundings, Sang Nian looked down at the youth huddled in the corner.
He was still unconscious. The blood-soaked garments had been stripped away, and the slightly wide collar of his fresh clothes revealed a pair of deeply carved collarbone hollows.
Ah, the perks of the cultivation world, she thought. In just this short span of time, such horrific, mangled injuries had already healed to a remarkable degree.
Tossing the plate of candied fruit onto a table nearby, she walked over, crouched down beside him, and rested her chin on one hand to inspect him closely.
Now that the medicine had taken effect, the youth’s complexion lacked its previous ghostly pallor. Two long, delicate rows of dark eyelashes rested quietly against his eyelids, paired with a high-bridged nose and tightly pressed thin lips.
His features were perhaps a bit too refined, giving him an almost feminine delicacy.
Still, he is undeniably striking, Sang Nian mused.
However, when a person lacked the strength to protect themselves, being strikingly handsome was hardly a blessing.
Shaking her head, she prepared to leave when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a stray ant crawling across Xie Chenzhou’s cheek. Letting out a soft gasp, she instinctively reached out to brush it away.
The moment her fingertips brushed his skin, a pair of pitch-dark eyes flew open, staring straight at her in absolute silence.
Startled out of her wits, Sang Nian jerked backward so violently she nearly landed flat on her backside.
Recovering her composure, she patted her chest and hurriedly explained, “Don’t get the wrong idea! There was just an ant on your face.”
Pushing himself up against the wall, Xie Chenzhou ignored the phantom bug entirely, fixing her with a cold, piercing glare. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, right. This.”
Turning around, Sang Nian picked up the plate of candied fruit. Mentally rehearsing her lines twice, she stammered out:
“No matter what happened, you took those beatings today because of me. Of course, I don’t feel guilty about it in the least—it’s just that I happen to think this plate of candied fruit tastes terrible, so I’m bestowing it upon you. If you want to think I’m coming up with new ways to humiliate you, well, suit yourself.”
With that, she thrust the porcelain plate toward Xie Chenzhou. He didn’t take it.
Instead, he was staring down at a book clutched in his hands.
The gauze-thin light of dusk filtered through the window, casting a strange, unreadable shadow across his face.
Odd?
What was odd?
Instinctively patting her cuffs, Sang Nian suddenly realized the book her brother had given her was missing.
She must have dropped it here by accident just now.
Pointing at it, she reminded him, “That’s mine.”
Xie Chenzhou closed the book and handed it back to her. The tips of his ears were burning a brilliant red, and the flush extended all the way down his neck.
Confused, Sang Nian asked, “What’s wrong with you now? You look like a boiled shrimp.”
Averting his gaze, Xie Chenzhou muttered, “Nothing.”
If he said nothing, that definitely meant something was up.
Setting the plate aside, Sang Nian looked down at the completely blank, coverless book.
It didn’t even have a title, and her brother had acted so secretive about it…
Could it possibly be some legendary, peerless cultivation manual?
Her eyes lit up instantly. Stifling her rising excitement, she eagerly cracked open the cover.
Six massive characters glared up from the title page:
The Secret Manual of Dual Cultivation: One Easy Trick to Master Bedroom Arts.
Followed by a tiny line of fine print at the bottom:
Personally penned by the Sect Master of the Joyful Union Sect (The sole surviving copy in existence).
The background illustration featured two people engaged in an intricate, highly descriptive embrace, with the rendering of the key anatomical details executed with terrifying, lifelike precision.
Sang Nian: “…”
Damn it.