That morning, the Lin family dining room felt quieter than usual.
The soft sounds of cutlery echoed faintly beneath the aroma of toasted bread and warm soup freshly brought from the kitchen.
Sunlight streamed through the tall eastern windows, spreading thinly across the polished dining table.
Qingyu sat calmly in her seat.
Four days after the fever that night, the changes in her body had become increasingly noticeable.
Her complexion was still pale, but no longer like someone who could collapse at any moment.
Her movements while lifting her chopsticks had steadied.
Her shoulders no longer tensed with pain every time she moved.
Even the bruises around her wrists had faded into little more than faint shadows.
Lin Feng observed everything quietly.
A trace of relief appeared in his eyes whenever he noticed Qingyu’s improving condition, though the unease in his heart had not completely disappeared.
He sipped his black coffee while his gaze repeatedly drifted back toward Qingyu.
The looks were subtle, but far too frequent to be called accidental.
On the opposite side of the table, Lady Su sat with flawless posture.
Her morning dress was soft in color, her hair perfectly arranged, and the elegant smile on her lips remained as refined as ever.
In front of her rested a white porcelain teapot alongside two delicate cups.
Snow Blossom Tea.
Auntie Yue stood several steps away while overseeing the servants preparing additional dishes.
Xiao Lan carefully poured warm soup into Qingyu’s bowl with cautious movements.
At last, Lin Feng set down his chopsticks.
The faint sound immediately shifted the atmosphere at the table.
“There is something,” he said.
His voice was not loud, yet it was enough to silence the quiet chatter among the servants behind them.
Lady Su turned toward him with a gentle smile.
“What is it, husband?”
Lin Feng did not answer immediately.
His gaze rested on the white teapot for several seconds before finally shifting toward Qingyu.
“Starting today,” he said slowly but firmly, “Qingyu’s intake will be monitored directly.”
The room became even quieter.
Lady Su blinked slightly.
“Monitored?”
“Snow Blossom Tea will be discontinued.”
The teaspoon in Lady Su’s hand paused for the briefest moment before touching the small plate beside her cup.
Lin Xue, who had been busy scrolling through her phone, quickly looked up.
“It’s a calming tea,” Lady Su said softly.
“The doctors recommended it before to help with Qingyu’s condition.”
“I know,” Lin Feng replied shortly.
His tone remained calm.
But this time, there was no room to redirect the conversation.
“And now I’m the one stopping it.”
Qingyu continued eating her warm porridge quietly, spoonful by spoonful.
She did not involve herself in the conversation.
Behind her, however, Xiao Lan seemed to be holding her breath.
Auntie Yue also stood slightly straighter than before.
Lady Su smiled again.
The same beautiful smile appeared again, though this time it looked noticeably more restrained.
“Does Qingyu feel uncomfortable with the tea?” she asked while looking directly at Qingyu.
Qingyu lifted her gaze.
“No,” she answered honestly.
She paused briefly before continuing in the same calm tone.
“I simply don’t need it anymore.”
Lin Feng gave a faint nod after hearing her answer.
“Doctor Ming agrees as well,” he said.
“For now, there’s no need.”
Lady Su looked at the white teapot for a moment.
“In that case,” she asked softly, “what will replace it?”
“There is no replacement.”
Lin Feng answered immediately.
“The vitamins from Doctor Ming are enough.”
Lin Xue glanced toward her mother with an uncomfortable expression.
She did not fully understand what was happening, but she could feel the shift in the household atmosphere over the past few days.
And all of it centered around Qingyu.
Lady Su finally gave a small nod.
“If that is your decision,” she said while lifting her own teacup.
She did not oppose the matter openly.
But behind her composed face, her thoughts moved rapidly.
If the tea was gone, then that method was finished too.
I’ll have to think of another way.
After breakfast, Qingyu returned to the greenhouse.
The morning air was still damp from the light rain the night before.
Sunlight filtered through the glass walls, warming the dark soil that had gradually become fertile again after several days of care.
Several medicinal herbs looked far healthier than before.
Small leaves that had once wilted were slowly standing upright again.
Qingyu stood in the middle of the greenhouse and took a slow breath.
The scent of wet earth mixed with herbal leaves filled the air.
This place felt far more alive than when she had first entered it.
The small silver snake was nowhere to be seen that morning.
Perhaps it was hiding among the roots or old flower pots.
Qingyu walked toward the corner where the Fire Root was stored.
She picked up a small piece and ate it slowly.
Heat immediately spread through her body.
But this time, it felt different.
She no longer experienced the violent surge of energy that nearly destroyed her body before.
Lin Qingyu’s body was beginning to adapt to qi little by little.
She sat cross-legged on a thin mat beside the herbal shelves.
Her eyes closed.
Her breathing gradually deepened.
Thin streams of qi began flowing through meridians that had slowly become more open.
Pathways that once felt blocked were now responding more steadily.
The process was still slow.
But it was real.
Beneath the left side of her ribs, the Dragon Point pulsed softly.
Thump… thump… thump…
The rhythm was far calmer than during the first few days.
Qi flowed through her shoulders, down her arms, and toward the center of her body.
After some time, Qingyu slowly opened her eyes.
“Twelve percent,” she thought calmly.
Compared to the strength she once possessed in Azura, this level was still insignificant.
But for Lin Qingyu’s body, it was already equivalent to a new life.
Previously, this body had barely been able to remain conscious without pain.
Now, she could guide basic qi without damaging her own meridians.
The greenhouse door opened softly.
Xiao Lan appeared carrying a bottle of water and a small towel.
“Miss,” she said carefully as she approached.
Qingyu accepted the towel.
“Your father…” Xiao Lan hesitated briefly, searching for the right words.
“He looked happy earlier.”
Qingyu gently wiped the remaining sweat from her hands.
“Father is simply making sure my condition improves.”
“But it still feels different,” Xiao Lan insisted quickly.
“Master usually doesn’t notice small things like this.”
She paused before lowering her voice.
“And Lady Su looked… surprised earlier.”
Qingyu did not answer immediately.
She merely turned toward the plants in the greenhouse.
The small leaves swayed gently beneath the airflow from the upper vents.
Some changes did not need to be announced.
It was enough for people to notice them on their own.
“That is enough,” she finally said.
Xiao Lan nodded despite not fully understanding.
Not long afterward, they began tidying the greenhouse together.
Xiao Lan swept dried leaves while occasionally asking about unfamiliar plants she had never seen before.
Qingyu answered only when necessary, while Auntie Yue later arrived carrying several newer pots that were far more suitable for use.
The greenhouse that once felt abandoned was slowly becoming alive again.
In the city center, the atmosphere inside Xie Group’s headquarters was entirely different.
The top floor of the building remained quiet and cold.
Assistant Qiang stood before the large office desk while holding several report folders.
Xie Yan read through one of them without much expression.
“The products have already been pulled from the market,” Assistant Qiang reported.
Xie Yan continued reading for several more seconds before slowly closing the file.
“Trace the channels,” he said flatly.
Assistant Qiang raised his head slightly.
“Sorry?”
“Not the names.”
Xie Yan leaned back in his chair.
“Product names can be changed anytime.
The distribution channels are what matter.”
Assistant Qiang immediately nodded and wrote something down on his tablet.
“There are still reports of new victims from other districts,” he added.
“That’s normal,” Xie Yan replied shortly.
He stood and walked toward the large window overlooking the city.
Below, vehicles moved endlessly like blood flowing through the veins of a giant beast.
“Chronic poison is not designed to kill in a single day,” he continued.
“By the time hospitals notice the symptoms, the distribution network has usually been active for months.”
Assistant Qiang fell silent.
He had worked under Xie Yan for years and knew the man rarely spoke more than necessary.
But whenever Xie Yan started explaining things in detail, it meant the situation was serious.
“The people who already purchased those products can’t be recalled,” Xie Yan said while staring outside.
“My job now is simply to ensure there are no new buyers.”
“Especially through our own distribution channels.”
Assistant Qiang hesitated briefly.
“If the government starts interfering—”
“Let them.”
Xie Yan answered immediately before turning toward him.
“I would rather be accused of acting too quickly… than too late.”
Silence filled the room again.
Xie Yan slowly adjusted the cuffs of his black suit.
“Someone is testing the limits of this city,” he said coldly.
And for the first time that morning, the sharpness in his eyes truly changed.
“They forgot one thing.”
Assistant Qiang waited silently.
“Distribution,” Xie Yan said quietly, “is the lifeblood.”
“Anyone who interferes with it…”
He paused briefly.
“…is declaring war.”