As evening approached, a light, almost imperceptible rain began to fall.
Yan Huirou walked with light steps, circling around the grove of red maples to find the path that had led her back to the main hall earlier.
Walking for an extended period made her a little dizzy, and mindful of her many wounds, she dared not walk too quickly. Fortunately, the path wasn’t very long, so the journey wasn’t too arduous.
Perhaps Sect Master Jiang is no longer resting in the hall.
Yan Huirou thought that if she didn’t see her, she would just let it be and ask the senior sister who had helped her earlier to deliver the medicine. In truth, it stood to reason that since the Sect Master had given her medicine, she surely had better medicine for herself.
But for some reason, Yan Huirou had a strange intuition—
She felt that this Sect Master Jiang was not the type to obediently apply medicine.
The rain fell in fine, dense threads, hanging before her like a mist.
Yan Huirou paused. After pushing aside a maple leaf that was blocking her view, she happened to spot the corner of a red robe.
It was already dusk, and the last light of day was dim.
She wasn’t resting in the hall. Instead, she stood in the lingering rain, holding a white silk umbrella embroidered with a few red flowers. The mist blurred her features, adding to her tragic beauty.
Jiang Xidai was looking at a scroll painting under the umbrella. The umbrella’s rib rested on her shoulder, and she leaned against it, her head slightly bowed in a somewhat lazy posture.
Her fingertips traced the surface of the paper, a light, fleeting touch, as if she were trying to touch something through this barrier.
And just as her fingertips touched the paper, Jiang Xidai’s hand paused.
Yan Huirou stared at her hand. The next moment, she felt a few gusts of sharp wind rush towards her, and a burst of sword energy exploded in front of her.
The maple leaf she had just pushed aside was instantly pulverized, turning into a wisp of red smoke that dissipated before her.
She subconsciously closed her eyes, her body feeling heavy.
When she opened her eyes again, a long, slender, blood-red soft sword was pointed directly at the space between her eyebrows.
Following the line of the blade, she saw the pale hand that had just been gently caressing the scroll.
“It’s you.”
Jiang Xidai’s expression was unreadable. She raised an eyebrow slightly. “Yan Huirou.”
“You…”
The young woman before her opened her mouth, but facing the incredibly sharp sword, she could only manage a single word.
Jiang Xidai hated being disturbed and was feeling irritable. However, seeing the faint tears welling up in the girl’s eyes, her displeasure was quickly offset, and her mood inexplicably improved a little.
She liked seeing people with that expression—fearful, surprised, like lambs to the slaughter.
Beep! Female Lead Favorability -1
Yes, that’s more like it.
She should be afraid of me, not inexplicably developing that useless favorability.
“How can you be so forceful when your shoulder is injured?” the female lead asked with concern.
“…”
“…”
Jiang Xidai’s expression froze.
She retracted her earlier thought.
Yan Huirou stared intently at the wound on her shoulder, which had started to bleed again. So, it’s just as I thought.
She didn’t apply the medicine.
Yan Huirou studied her for a moment. Seeing her strange expression and that she wasn’t making any further moves to attack, she raised her hand and tentatively tried to push away the sword tip pointed at her forehead.
Jiang Xidai’s wrist didn’t move.
But the soft sword did indeed move away with Yan Huirou’s hand.
In the fine, silken rain, Yan Huirou took a step forward, crossing the distance of a sword’s length.
She placed the medicine bottle, still warm from being held in her palm, into Jiang Xidai’s hand.
Yan Huirou lowered her head and reminded her, “The painting in your hand is also getting wet. You should put it away. This is…” Her gaze fell unconsciously on the scroll, and she only caught a glimpse of it.
It was a very detailed, fine-lined painting, vaguely depicting a woman. She looked quite beautiful.
Jiang Xidai’s expression grew even more peculiar. With a few rustling sounds, she quickly rolled up the scroll and held it in her palm, protecting it from the harsh wind and cold rain.
Yan Huirou asked naturally, “Is it a painting of the Sect Master’s beloved?”
The blood-red sword, along with the misty red sleeve, lowered.
“…”
“What are you pretending for.”
The tip of the sword rested leisurely against Yan Huirou’s heart.
“You don’t recognize her?”
Jiang Xidai smiled lightly. “She recognizes you very well. I didn’t even know there was someone like you worthy of her favor.”
The woman’s peach blossom eyes curved in a charming arc, but as Yan Huirou gazed at her beauty, she also saw that beneath the smile, there seemed to be no trace of happiness.
It wasn’t just the insincere smile. Yan Huirou understood the trace of malice and resentment hidden in those words—it was undirected, aimed at herself.
Yan Huirou did not get angry. She even smiled to herself, then sighed, accepting this malice as calmly as water, enveloping it and dissolving it like a drop of poison in a vast, flowing ocean.
The mountains stood silent, and the rivers continued to flow.
“If you don’t want to smile, then don’t,” Yan Huirou said gently, looking at her. “But if something is troubling you, and if you trust me, you can tell me about it. Are you and the woman in the painting having some sort of disagreement?”
Before Yan Huirou could finish, the cold wind made her cough slightly. She lowered her head and covered her mouth, coughing a few times.
“What does it have to do with you?” The last trace of a perfunctory smile on Jiang Xidai’s face gradually faded, her expression growing neutral.
Her face was blank, her easygoing demeanor gone, signaling that her last bit of patience had run out.
“Get out.”
As a disciple of the master of the Shasheng Sect, Wen Xianyin usually handled most of the trivial matters within the sect.
She was naturally aware of the Sect Master’s movements and habits. Therefore, she always stayed near Jiang Xidai, within earshot, so she could be summoned.
When she saw the Sect Master’s sword pointed at Miss Yan’s forehead from the far end of the maple grove—
Wen Xianyin broke into a cold sweat for her, even preparing herself for the sight of her blood splattering across the maple grove in the next second.
Ever since she had been by the Sect Master’s side, she had rarely seen anyone come out from under her sword alive. The infamous reputation of “Crimson Illumination” was definitely not a joke.
But miraculously, Miss Yan survived.
And she was alive and well, at most having been told to “get out.” Perhaps Yan Huirou herself didn’t realize how precious that was.
Wen Xianyin had initially intended to just serve her casually, but seeing this scene, she began to see a deeper meaning in it.
She had always known the Sect Master’s preferences. Wen Xianyin quietly studied Yan Huirou. Is this girl very beautiful?
She watched her walk away, her figure disappearing at the end of the maple grove, and frowned with an indescribable feeling.
Because Yan Huirou had suffered for so long, she was so thin she barely looked human, and her body was covered in scars. She looked as if she would break with a single touch, hardly pleasing to the eye.
The Sect Master liked fine clothes and beautiful women. Even the maids who served her tea were all exceptionally good-looking.
If they resembled that woman a little more, the Sect Master’s gaze might linger a bit longer.
But Miss Yan certainly did not.
Wen Xianyin sized her up again. There was indeed not a single shred of resemblance. She withdrew her probing gaze and turned her attention back to Jiang Xidai’s movements.
The Sect Master was finally no longer holding her umbrella to look at the painting in the dim light. Wen Xianyin thought with relief, That can’t be good for the eyes.
As the sky darkened, the red-robed woman folded her umbrella and sat down in a small pavilion in the maple grove that offered shelter from the rain. Listening to the sound of the rain in the mountain forest, it was unclear whether she was admiring the scenery or simply in a daze.
Her silhouette was blurry, blending into the even darker light of the distant sky, like a fading flame.
After Yan Huirou left, the rain grew heavier, sweeping down from the sky like a brush coated in clear lacquer.
Raindrops beat against the maple leaves, making the branches sway wildly. The pattering sound was endless.
“Wen Xianyin.”
A voice cut through the rain.
Wen Xianyin approached and, not surprisingly, received a new order.
But after hearing what Jiang Xidai said, she was slightly taken aback.
“A disciple from Lanyue Pavilion? Capture him?” Wen Xianyin repeated carefully. “Is there anything special about this person named Li Xinghe?”
Jiang Xidai frowned. “Since when did you have so many questions?”
Wen Xianyin stood up straight and said respectfully, “Yes.”
Just as she was about to turn, she heard the Sect Master add, “He might have some secret treasures or opportunities on him. Search him carefully, take everything, and then bring him to me.”
“Yes.”
After Wen Xianyin left, she immediately sent people to investigate what was so important about a mere disciple to warrant the Sect Master’s attention. This was very strange. Jiang Xidai rarely remembered the names of people she had met—after all, the dead don’t need names.
A few days later, a scout reported back.
Wen Xianyin held the information, momentarily falling silent. This person was only seventeen, still a young boy, nothing special about him.
However, Li Xinghe was Zhan Ke’s new disciple.
Suddenly, everything became clear to her, and her feelings turned into a complicated mix.
