Feeding him her blood once wasn’t enough to completely purge the poison. So at dusk and again at midnight, Lin Zhengdu fed Xie Guanqi two more doses.
She couldn’t guarantee that her blood—mixed with various medicinal ingredients—would truly cure him. So she stayed by his bedside until dawn. When exhaustion overtook her, she merely propped her cheek on her hand and closed her eyes for a moment.
But more often than not, she would only rest briefly before opening her eyes again, continuing to monitor his condition.
After all, he was a sword cultivator—his foundation was strong.
By early morning the next day, when the eastern sky was just beginning to pale, his complexion had already returned to normal, his breathing steady and deep.
Lin Zhengdu took his pulse, her fingers pressing lightly along the inside of his arm.
Beneath that thin layer of skin, his blood flowed slowly under her control, circulating through his body.
Once she confirmed that all traces of poison had completely vanished, she finally relaxed and let out a tired yawn.
But it still wasn’t time to sleep.
She first wrote a letter to Immortal Peilan, informing her that the plague-wraith poison had been cured. Then she drew two more small vials of her own blood. Using a brush, she labeled each bottle before placing them into a medicine cabinet.
That cabinet was filled with identical glass bottles.
Each one contained her blood—but the labels were all different.
Each bottle was an antidote to a rare and deadly poison.
Her constitution was unusual. Antidotes created through blood exchange could only retain their medicinal effect within her body for at most three days. After that, the properties would be devoured by her own flesh and blood, reverting to their original toxic state.
This devouring made no distinction between beneficial or harmful properties.
In theory, it made her immune to all poisons.
But only in theory.
Because her body required three to seven days to complete a full renewal cycle—and some poisons could kill instantly, leaving her no time to regenerate.
So when dealing with extremely lethal toxins—like the plague-wraith poison—she had to first suppress them to a survivable level before introducing them into her body. Then, before the medicinal effect faded, she would extract her blood and store it in stabilization vessels, preserving its potency.
After drawing blood, Lin Zhengdu sat in her recliner to rest.
She had only meant to nap briefly—
But she ended up falling into a deep sleep.
When she startled awake, night had already fallen.
The apothecary was dark, with only a faint trace of twilight lingering at the doorway.
She rubbed her face and sat up. The thin blanket draped over her slid down.
She paused.
“…Huh?”
She didn’t remember covering herself before falling asleep.
A soft rustling came from outside.
She stepped out—and saw Xie Guanqi in the courtyard, holding a broom, sweeping fallen leaves.
The paper lanterns had been lit, but the light was still dim. She couldn’t clearly see his face.
Though she hadn’t made a sound, he seemed to sense her presence. He stopped sweeping and turned to look at her.
“You’re awake?” she asked, slightly surprised.
He nodded. “I feel much better, so I got up to move around… Doctor Lin, what happened to your hand?”
She glanced down.
White bandages, heavy with the scent of medicine, were wrapped around her wrist.
Medical cultivators were usually skilled at healing—but her unique constitution weakened the effect of many healing techniques on herself. And to make matters worse, her healing skills weren’t particularly refined. She could treat others’ minor injuries well enough—but treating herself was another matter.
She touched the bandage casually. “Cut it by accident while preparing medicine… Do you feel any discomfort?”
Though he looked healthy, she still asked out of habit as she stepped closer.
Xie Guanqi leaned on the broom. “Just a bit weak. Nothing else.”
“That’s normal,” she said. “You were poisoned. Stay here and recover for a month. If there’s no rejection reaction within that time, you can leave.”
He tilted his head. “Rejection reaction?”
“Some cultivators are allergic to certain medicines,” she explained. “The reaction can be delayed. And you’re the first patient I’ve seen with this poison, so I need to observe carefully.”
“Do I still need to take medicine?”
“…That depends,” she said vaguely. “If anything changes, then yes.”
It was already time for dinner.
Since he had been unconscious before, she hadn’t fed him at all. She wasn’t worried—high-level sword cultivators had exceptional physiques.
But now that he was awake—
“Want to have dinner together?” she offered.
“Alright. Let me finish sweeping first.”
When conscious, he was quiet and reserved—a stark contrast to his incessant rambling under sedation.
He worked silently, sweeping the courtyard clean, clearing away a whole winter’s worth of fallen leaves.
Thanks to him, Lin Zhengdu was reminded that her courtyard was paved with pale beige stone.
She hadn’t seen it in ages.
Lin Zhengdu never cooked for daily meals. Fire was only used when preparing medicine.
Normally, she either ate preserved food or casually roasted edible herbs.
Even with a patient present, she had no intention of cooking.
She retrieved mutton-filled flatbreads from a cellar and handed him two.
Afterward, she checked the basket—only a few pieces remained.
Time to restock tomorrow.
They sat on the kitchen steps. She lit a lantern, and they ate in silence.
Under the dim glow, Xie Guanqi took a bite of the tough bread and glanced sideways at her.
He could only see her profile.
Refined and elegant, like an orchid in a secluded valley. Her dark hair was half-tied, a few loose strands falling beside her face.
It was hard to imagine someone like her—who looked suited to painting or reading—sitting on steps eating flatbread.
…Though the bread was actually quite good.
He looked away and took another bite.
Lin Zhengdu smiled. “Do you remember anything from the treatment?”
He thought for a moment. “The medicine tasted a bit bloody.”
“And?”
“Your hands were cold.”
She let out a soft exclamation, both amused and surprised.
It seemed he remembered nothing of his earlier ramblings.
He added, “Also… your voice is very pleasant.”
“….”
After a brief pause, he said, “That’s all I remember.”
He lowered his head and continued eating, his expression calm.
Too calm.
There was no hint of teasing—his compliments were straightforward and sincere, as if he were praising the bread in his hands.
Lin Zhengdu felt slightly embarrassed.
She instinctively wanted to touch her nose—but her fingers were greasy, so she gave up and continued eating.
Early the next morning, Lu Yuanyuan returned.
This time, he brought five young sword cultivators with him—both men and women, dressed in blue-and-white sect robes and black boots.
“These are all Sword Sect disciples—Senior Brother Xie’s fellow disciples,” Lu Yuanyuan explained. “They came to visit after hearing he woke up.”
After greeting Lin Zhengdu, the group rushed into the side chamber like a flock of birds.
They brought gifts—and fresh clothes.
Lin Zhengdu crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “He’s popular.”
“Of course,” Lu Yuanyuan said. “A favored genius of the Sword Sect—how could he not be?”
She still found it surprising. “But he’s so young.”
“He’s a prodigy,” Lu Yuanyuan snorted. “People like that exist to crush the rest of us… But—”
He puffed up proudly. “If it weren’t for you, Senior Sister, he’d be dead already! So you’re the real impressive one!”
Lin Zhengdu stood at the doorway, peeking inside.
The five sword cultivators filled the room completely.
Xie Guanqi sat on the only chair, listening to a junior sister chatter away.
Morning light streamed in, casting a glow over him.
His long black hair hung loose, his expression serious—but his face still carried youthful softness.
A kind of androgynous beauty, not yet fully matured.
The junior sister finished her report excitedly—then, lacking tact, asked:
“Senior Brother, can you still use your sword? Are you going to compete next month?”
“With you gone, the Zizhu Forest group has been so arrogant—they say they’ll definitely win!”
She clenched her fist angrily—only to be kicked lightly by a fellow disciple, snapping her back to her senses.
Xie Guanqi ignored the question. Instead, he picked up the gift box and weighed it.
“What is this?”
“A fourth-stage nightmare beast,” she said proudly. “A whole one—bones intact, wings undamaged.”
A rare prize.
The group looked at him expectantly.
He set the box aside. “I’ll be recovering here for a month. I may miss the competition. Go back and train hard.”
No praise.
They looked disappointed—but also unsurprised.
After all—
He was their senior brother.
After they left, the courtyard fell quiet again.
Xie Guanqi tied up his hair and resumed sweeping.
When he reached the central courtyard, he paused.
It was filled with vibrant flowers—far more colorful than the plain herbs in the front.
But the strangest thing—
The pots.
They were skulls.
Some large—clearly from beasts.
Some small—human.
Bone structures formed trellises for climbing plants.
The place wasn’t a graveyard—
But it felt eerier than one.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
Her gentle voice drifted from behind him.
He turned.
She stood a few steps away, smiling, her eyes curved like crescents.
“Did you build the frames yourself?” he asked.
“All by hand. No magic.”
He smiled faintly. “They’re beautifully made. Doctor Lin is skilled not only in medicine—but also with her hands.”
She blinked.
Seeing him smile like that—with his high ponytail and youthful features—
For the first time, she truly felt he was only seventeen.
“You should smile more,” she said.
“I do,” he replied, lowering his head to sweep again. “Just not at my junior brothers and sisters.”
She teased, “So strict, Senior Brother~”
“They’re too noisy. If I’m too lenient, they’ll walk all over me.”
She thought he was overthinking—but said nothing.
Instead, she asked casually, “Are you close with your junior sisters?”
“Not particularly.”
She tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“I thought you didn’t have any junior sisters.”
“My master only has one direct disciple—me.”
“The Sword Sect limits direct disciples,” he explained. “Inner disciples are different.”
She smiled. “So strict. My master has over a dozen direct disciples.”
Then she added lightly, “Stay away from those flowers while sweeping. They’re all poisonous.”
He nodded—and moved farther from the flowerbeds.
Lin Zhengdu was satisfied.
Obedient, hardworking, not overly curious, easy to talk to—
Patients like this were rare.
Unlike certain previous sword cultivators, who would ask endless questions—even about how sweet the water used in medicine was.
Humming softly, she returned to the apothecary.
As the medicine boiled, she unwrapped her bandage and squeezed two drops of blood into the pot.
The bubbling dark liquid instantly calmed—
Turning clear as water.
Only the smell remained.
She poured it into a long-spouted watering can and went to the courtyard to water her “treasures.”
In high spirits, she hummed as she worked.
When she finished, Xie Guanqi had also finished sweeping.
She needed to go down the mountain to restock supplies.
After asking him, they each took a basket—and set off together.
The Medicine Sect was divided into inner and outer regions. Beyond the inner area lay a town inhabited by both disciples and ordinary people.
Though her cultivation level wasn’t high enough to leave the sect, visiting the outer town was allowed.
There was no teleportation array.
They had to walk.
The mountain path was steep, winding, and dangerous—crossed by rivers with no bridges, only thick vines twisted together like narrow walkways.
Xie Guanqi didn’t find it difficult.
He was more concerned that Doctor Lin might fall.
But soon he realized—
She didn’t need his help at all.
She moved with ease, even walking ahead of him.
Sometimes, she would turn back—
And reach out her hand to pull him along.