POV — Xie Yan
The isolation room was located at the end of the corridor.
It had been built to be quiet, with a soundproofing system meant to keep out the noise from outside.
The air conditioner hummed low without stopping, and the scent of antiseptic clung to the air until it tasted faintly bitter at the back of the nose.
Behind the transparent glass, a young man lay motionless.
His chest rose and fell unevenly.
The heart monitor beside the bed beeped every few seconds, its rhythm sometimes too fast, then slowing again without any clear pattern.
Xie Yan stood several steps away from the glass with both hands in the pockets of his black suit.
His gaze had been fixed on the patient’s body for some time.
The doctor beside him opened the data on a tablet.
“His condition has declined sharply since last night.”
He tapped another section of data on the tablet.
“At first, it was only fatigue and mild shortness of breath.
But this morning, circulatory problems appeared, his lung function dropped, and bruises showed up on several parts of his body.”
Xie Yan remained silent.
His eyes followed the lines of bruising along the patient’s arm.
Those bruises were too orderly to be natural.
They did not appear randomly, like marks from impact or normal blood vessel damage.
He took one step closer to the glass.
“What about the first victim’s medical records?”
His assistant immediately slid another tablet screen toward him.
Several photos appeared.
The first victim, then the second.
The locations were different.
Their ages were different as well.
But the bruising patterns were almost the same.
Xie Yan enlarged the image with the tip of his finger.
There were slight differences in intensity and spread, but the arrangement followed the same logic.
“They weren’t poisoned to cause immediate death,” he finally said.
The doctor turned toward him.
“We reached the same conclusion.”
He drew in a short breath before continuing.
“This poison doesn’t directly attack the vital organs.
Instead, the victim’s body weakens on its own.
The metabolism and circulation seem to be forced to break down from within.”
“As though their bodies have forgotten how to survive,” the doctor added quietly.
Xie Yan smiled.
“Interesting.”
His tone was flat, but his assistant knew that meant he had truly begun paying attention.
After years of working in the medical and logistics industries, Xie Yan had seen too many forms of death.
Some were quick, some brutal, and others were deliberately made spectacular to frighten people.
But this case was different.
A poison like this required time, patience, and precise control.
Which meant the perpetrator was not trying to kill one person.
They were testing something.
“Do both victims share any habits?” Xie Yan asked.
“The first and second victims both had records of purchasing herbal mixtures from a small distributor in the southern district,” his assistant answered quickly.
“Distributor name?”
The assistant gave the name of a local company so obscure it was almost unknown.
The company was legal, and all its documents were suspiciously clean.
“Trace all its distribution routes,” Xie Yan said.
“Quietly.”
“What about the source of the goods?”
“Find it.”
“The raw material supplier?”
“Find that too.”
He returned the tablet without further interest.
“Don’t let the police realize we’re involved.”
His assistant nodded.
Xie Yan looked once more at the patient behind the glass for several seconds.
His instincts told him something was wrong.
The city no longer felt as quiet as it had a few months ago.
And for some reason, those same instincts told him this case would not stop with only two victims.
He turned and left the isolation room.
The small white fox that had been hidden beneath his suit until now peeked out, glanced once toward the patient, then hid itself again.
POV — Qingyu
The greenhouse was opened again that morning.
Its wooden door gave a long creak when Qingyu pushed it open slowly.
Thin dust fell from the top of the frame, while morning sunlight slipped through the dull glass panes.
Warm air welcomed them.
It was different from the cold air outside.
Here, the scent of wet soil and plants mixed into something calming.
Auntie Yue stopped at the doorway for quite a while.
Her gaze moved slowly across the entire greenhouse.
Old wooden shelves, cracked pots, creeping vines that had begun growing wild in the corners, and the long table where Qingyu’s mother used to arrange herbs awakened old memories in this place.
“It has been so long…” she murmured.
There was nostalgia in her voice that was difficult to hide.
Xiao Lan stepped in first, carrying a small broom.
Her eyes immediately widened.
“It’s so warm in here…” she said honestly.
“I used to help in my uncle’s small herbal garden, but I’ve never seen a place like this.”
She bent down to look at a plant near her feet.
“This leaf looks strange…”
“That’s because some of the plants here aren’t common herbs,” Qingyu replied.
Xiao Lan turned her head quickly.
“I don’t even know the names of some of these plants.”
“Of course,” Auntie Yue said before Qingyu could answer.
“Madam was never an ordinary herbalist.”
Her tone carried both respect and admiration.
Qingyu walked toward the center of the greenhouse.
The gardening boots Xiao Lan had given her earlier had been left near the door.
She felt more comfortable sensing the earth directly beneath her feet.
The moment she stopped in the middle of the room, the Dragon Point pulsed faintly.
This soil was still alive.
Its qi was extremely thin compared to Azura, but it was not dead.
More importantly… this soil could still receive qi.
Qingyu’s gaze moved across every corner of the greenhouse.
Most of the plants were ordinary Earth herbs.
Some were rarer.
But there were also plants that clearly should not exist in this world.
Qingyu stopped in front of a small plant with bluish leaves growing in a shaded corner.
There was something unusual about the color and texture of its leaves.
Too stable for a plant growing on Earth.
She recognized it.
The plant came from Azura.
Although its quality had fallen greatly after adapting to Earth’s environment.
“Thank you for secretly taking care of this place,” Qingyu said suddenly, turning toward Auntie Yue.
The woman immediately looked startled.
“Miss knows?”
Qingyu nodded.
“This greenhouse was deliberately made to look messy.
But several important plants are still alive and too healthy.”
She lowered her gaze slightly to the soil around the pots.
“The weeds have also been cleared regularly.”
Auntie Yue looked a little embarrassed.
“I only maintained what I could,” she said softly.
“If it looked too neat, Madam Su would become suspicious.”
“That is more than enough.”
Qingyu said it sincerely.
Auntie Yue did not answer right away.
For the first time since Qingyu began improving, the woman felt that the girl before her truly saw all the small efforts she had hidden for so long.
“Alright,” Qingyu said after a moment, picking up the pruning shears from the wooden table.
“Let’s start with the simple things.”
Xiao Lan immediately nodded with enthusiasm.
They began working.
Xiao Lan swept away dried leaves.
Auntie Yue cleared broken pots and separated the plants that could still be saved.
Meanwhile, Qingyu moved from one bed to another, calmly checking the soil and roots.
Little by little, the greenhouse began to feel alive again.
In the middle of that small bustle, Qingyu suddenly stopped.
She knelt beside an old bed almost covered with wild growth.
Her fingers touched the soil.
A thin stream of qi flowed slowly from her fingertips.
A few seconds later, she felt something.
A tiny pulse, extremely faint.
Qingyu lifted her head.
From behind a cracked pot in the corner of the greenhouse, a small silver snake appeared.
Its body shimmered beneath the morning sunlight.
Xiao Lan froze the moment she saw it.
“Miss!”
The broom in her hand nearly fell.
“A snake!”
“Calm down,” Qingyu said without panic.
“It won’t attack.”
The little snake moved straight toward Qingyu.
It did not hiss.
There was no sense of threat.
In its mouth, it held something shaped like a small tuber.
When it reached Qingyu, the snake stopped.
Then it placed the tuber on the ground.
Xiao Lan was still holding her breath from behind.
Qingyu stared at the object for a long while.
The tuber was small and wrapped in thin layers.
Faint white-gold veins ran across its surface.
Qingyu’s eyes changed.
This was a White Body Tuber, second grade.
In Azura, this herb would not have been considered extraordinary.
But on Earth… its effect would be equal to high-grade medicine.
And more importantly, its properties were exactly what Lin Qingyu’s body needed right now.
It could neutralize chronic toxins and gradually repair damaged circulation.
Qingyu raised her gaze to the silver snake.
“This isn’t a coincidence…”
The snake hissed, almost as though answering.
“Thank you,” Qingyu said sincerely.
Xiao Lan finally gathered enough courage to move a little closer.
“Miss… what plant is that?”
“White Body Tuber.”
Xiao Lan frowned.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“That’s because it’s rare.”
Qingyu picked up the tuber carefully.
Then she walked to the shadiest corner of the greenhouse and began digging into the soil slowly with her bare hands.
“If cared for properly,” she said while planting the tuber, “this can be harvested every few months.”
Xiao Lan looked at her with admiration.
Auntie Yue lowered her gaze quietly.
The way she looked at Qingyu no longer carried only pity.
It was respect, growing little by little.
By late afternoon, their work was done.
The greenhouse was still far from perfect, but it already looked alive again.
The pots had been arranged more neatly.
The walking paths between plants were visible.
And the afternoon sunlight entered more freely through the cleaned glass.
Qingyu stood near the bed where the White Body Tuber had been planted.
She looked at the small plant for quite some time.
“That’s enough for today,” she finally said.
Xiao Lan immediately sat down on a small wooden chair and wiped her sweat.
“Finally…”
Auntie Yue laughed softly for the first time that day.
Qingyu looked once more at the small plant in the damp soil.
“It will grow strong,” she murmured.
The sounds of the city drifted faintly from outside the greenhouse.
Beyond the greenhouse walls, the city continued moving as usual.
Qingyu closed her eyes for a moment.
And for the first time since arriving on Earth, she felt she had truly begun to take root in this world.