The Soup Man finally sighed, his shoulders dropping. With a swirl of wind and a flick of his wrist, his spiritual weapon vanished.
Linyue stayed silent. Her own sword dissolved into a soft crackle of light and disappeared. She was just about to turn and walk away, very ready to forget this whole nonsense happened. Then his voice stopped her.
“Have you ever co to the north?”
Linyue glanced back at him. “What if I have?”
This ti, the Soup Man’s expression had lost its smugness. His eyes were sharp, serious in a way that caught her attention. “I… rember eting a lightning cultivator there. She used the sa spiritual weapon as you. That can’t be a coincidence, right?”
Linyue’s eyes narrowed. She thought for a mont. She had been to the northern wall many tis in the past to help clear out demons. But she always wore a plain white mask back then. She didn’t rember anyone in particular from those trips. And even if she did… she didn’t like this man. Not after what he had done to Shen Zhenyu.
Her voice was calm and steady as she looked him in the eye. “It was a coincidence.”
The Soup Man tilted his head, still watching her. “Can I at least know your na?”
“No.” Linyue didn’t hesitate.
He blinked at her answer but didn’t press further. For once, there was no smug smile. Just quiet curiosity.
Linyue turned on her heel and walked away. Her robes fluttered lightly behind her with each step. Sparks still crackled faintly in the air around her, just in case anyone forgot who just obliterated a shield made of vines and six grown n.
Song iyu gave a proud thumbs up. “That’s our Linyue. Mysterious, deadly, and rude to annoying n. Perfect.”
He Yuying nodded, still slightly impressed. “That man just got salted.”
Shen Zhenyu let out a loud sigh. “I want new teammates.”
“Too late,” Song iyu said cheerfully. “You’re already in the chaos family.”
“I’m changing my na,” Shen Zhenyu muttered. But this ti, there was a faint smile on his face.
Together, the four of them left the Soup Man and his six slightly electrocuted teammates behind. They mounted their horses and rode back toward the palace. The ride was fast and mostly quiet, though Shen Zhenyu wobbled slightly in the saddle more than once. Nobody pointed it out.
When they reached the palace gates, the guards straightened in surprise. One guard nearly dropped his spear when he saw Shen Zhenyu’s shredded robes, streaked with blood and soot. He looked like he had barely survived a very dramatic battle. Which was true. The maidservants whispered among themselves as the group passed, their eyes wide at the sight of Shen Zhenyu tattered robes, Linyue’s calm face and the faint static still lingering in her hair. Without saying a word, the four walked straight toward Linyue’s chamber.
In Linyue’s chamber, Shen Zhenyu sat stiffly on a chair. He didn’t say a word, his expression calm and serious.
Song iyu was already bustling around the room. She knelt on the floor and began pulling out bottles, jars, and bundles of dried leaves from her dicinal pouch.
“I’m fine,” Shen Zhenyu said, his voice clipped as he tried to sound dignified. “It’s just surface wounds. I can treat them myself. Just give the ointnt.”
Song iyu made a sound that could only be described as a squeak of disapproval. “Nope! You’ll just do it half-heartedly and sar it around like sauce. Sit still. Let do it properly.”
Shen Zhenyu let out a long sigh.
In the corner, He Yuying sat cross-legged, munching on a rice cracker he had sohow acquired. He watched the scene unfold with an expression of mild boredom. “Honestly, this is more painful to watch than the actual fight.”
“Shut up,” Shen Zhenyu muttered without looking at him.
Linyue sat nearby, pouring tea for herself. Her movents were quiet and precise, like she wasn’t surrounded by three chaotic people and a growing pile of dical supplies.
Chaos family, indeed.
When Shen Zhenyu opened his mouth to protest again, Song iyu was already halfway through stripping off his ruined outer robe. He Yuying stopped mid-bite and blinked at the sight of Shen Zhenyu’s shredded inner robe and the red lines crisscrossing his skin. Then his eyes widened slightly.
“…Wow,” He Yuying said. His tone was flat, but there was the faintest edge of surprise. “Those cuts are impressive. That Soup Man might do better as a butcher than a rcenary.”
Shen Zhenyu shot him a deadpan look. “Thank you. That’s very helpful.”
Linyue shook her head from her seat, her fingers tapping lightly against the teacup. Of all the troubles they had faced—swamps, caves, mysterious plant—this one deserved a special award for “Most Annoying.” This trouble carried a fan. And a handful of petals and leaves.
Song iyu, now gently cleaning Shen Zhenyu’s wounds with water spiritual energy, looked up with guilt written all over her face. Her lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “It’s because of …” she mumbled, her voice small. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
Despite her dramatic expression, her hands moved fast and steady, like soone who had definitely patched up worse things. Possibly a bear.
Shen Zhenyu let out a soft chuckle, though it turned into a wince as the ointnt stung. “So you actually knew?”
Song iyu sniffled loudly. “Of course! I admit it this ti!”
He sighed, still half-dressed and halfway patched up. “It’s fine. It was just an accident.”
“Right,” He Yuying said from the corner, still lounging with his rice crackers. “That Soup Man clearly exaggerated the whole thing. He just wanted to flirt with Sister Linyue.”
Linyue, still sipping her tea, let out a very quiet sigh. “It’s hard to be a beauty.”
The room went silent for two seconds.
Then Shen Zhenyu burst into soft laughter despite the stinging on his arm. “At least you’re aware of it.”
Song iyu wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still sniffling. “We should charge people for just looking at her. Half price for polite ones. Double for creeps.”
He Yuying nodded without hesitation. “And triple if they carry fans.”
Linyue placed her teacup on the table with a soft clink. “Let’s make a price list later.”
And just like that, the chaos family slipped into yet another ridiculous, strangely comforting mont of peace. Surrounded by bandages, torn robes, and one very dramatic story they had silently agreed to never, ever tell Shu Mingye.
Unfortunately, Shu Mingye always knew. His spies were everywhere. They followed them like annoying mosquitoes.
The door burst open with such force it rattled the walls.
Shu Mingye strode in, his long cloak sweeping behind him. His sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. He stopped first on Shen Zhenyu. Half-dressed. Bandaged. Looking like he had just lost a fight to a particularly aggressive at grinder.
Song iyu froze mid-motion, a roll of gauze still hovering in her hands.
He Yuying put down his rice cracker.
No one spoke. The air turned heavy and still.
Then Shu Mingye’s gaze landed on Linyue.
Uh-oh.
He walked toward her like he was the one who owned everything in the room, including the oxygen. He reached out, placed his hand firmly at her waist, and pulled her up to stand. His expression didn’t change as his eyes flicked over her face, her hands, her arms, and her robes. He checked for burns, cuts, bruises, and any suspicious signs of flirting.
Then he looked her dead in the eyes. His voice was low and dangerous. “What did you promise this morning?”
Linyue, very aware that three pairs of very curious eyes were glued to them, lowered her voice and tried to sound calm. “It was an accident. And we’re fine. Well… Brother Zhenyu is not fine. But I’m fine.”
Shu Mingye did not look impressed. His jaw tightened. His brow twitched once. The air in the room seed to grow colder. Even the candle near the window flickered nervously. He stepped closer until there was almost no space left between them. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“I told you I would chain you to the bed. Rember?”
Reviews
All reviews (0)