Chapter 98

The wooden arrow lodged into flesh with a “thud,” only to be pulled out dripping thickly with blood. The archer effortlessly shook it, flinging the viscous blood into the grass, where it vanished from sight.

Having completed this act, Chen Shu laboriously tossed the rabbit onto her back once more.

Amidst a soft rustle of fabric straining and the shifting friction of prey against her cloak as she hunched over, Chen Shu paused nervously for a moment. She waited for the makeshift pouch, hastily formed from her outer robe, to settle securely before stowing the simple wood arrow away. Then she began to walk back, her steps alternately sinking deep and finding shallow purchase.

She carried far more than just one rabbit, after all. Worried that Scholar Yun Shen—with his impoverished fastidiousness—might have some dietary restriction, she had first hunted a deer. Then, while traversing a slope, she’d spotted a pheasant and, for good measure, plucked two of its eggs. At that moment, they jostled within the pouch, the sound each time setting Chen Shu aflutter, fearing the fragile shells would crack mid-journey should the eggs get too boisterous.

Finally, on the path back, almost ready to return, fatefully, she encountered the rabbit.

Rabbit meat, being scarce and the bones fine, wasn’t favored by many. But back on Tianyu Mountain, rabbits were abundant. Chen Shu’s senior brother faithfully recalled to mount a yearly expedition against these rabbit hordes. He would bring back numerous remnants, making the subsequent fortnight the happiest time of Chen Shu’s year—like an unexpected feast, a legitimate occasion when she and her senior brother collaborated to enjoy scant two ounces of meat prepared in every conceivable way.

Hence, dispatching this rabbit invoked a particular tenderness in her. She waited quite a while, striving for an instant kill: sparing the creature undue suffering while preserving the meat’s succulence.

Though deprived of supernatural prowess, her honed martial body made hunting game effortless. Moreover, this ravine-like valley skirting the Valley of Villains boasted peculiar terrain—encircled by steep slopes and cliffs on either side—making wild beasts exceptionally easy prey. Luckily, over the years, the denizens of the Valley disdained such humble creatures, focusing solely on preying upon civilians across Yubei. Otherwise, this emerald landscape and all its life would have been ravaged by this very flock; how could she, Chen Shu, have gathered today’s bountiful bounty?

Truthfully, Chen Shu felt there was still ample stamina left within her. While it was unplanned to carry more, her lone makeshift pouch held no space for additions. Reluctantly, half an hour into her venture, she had to conclude it—with a tinge of regret she couldn’t herself explain.

Just as she couldn’t fully grasp the sudden, urgent feeling that had spurred her earlier departure.

Along the way, haltingly, naively, she recalled that single moment—that sudden jolt akin to a jolt of electricity. Previously, she’d rushed eagerly toward Yun Shen. Perhaps it was because he was the very first soul she’d encountered upon descending her mountain, making her view him through the simple lens one reserves for a cherished senior brother or senior sister. Affections and dislikes alike were crystal clear, laid bare without the intricate webs of complex expectations society weaves.

However, she also knew Yun Shen was a man shaped by the world below her mountain peak. Sometimes, when he said “no,” it felt less aimed at her; often uttered for others’ ears, or even to himself, a self-denial. Conversely, when he uttered “yes,” it rarely blossomed from true delight. There were times when anger boiled within him, where impropriety gnawed at him, yet he mustered restraint, forcing the syllables “can” forth between clenched teeth.

She couldn’t be bothered to puzzle through such distinctions. She always followed her own whims, playing the fool and brushing things aside.

It was like a newborn beast cub—though unable to fully grasp the complex emotions behind others’ words, she could instinctively recognize when someone held goodwill toward her. Hence, all this roundabout, indirect expression.

Just like her senior brother, her senior sister, even her Master who nagged her every day.

But this time, the two of them falling off the cliff was like a stone tossed into water, stirring ripples across the surface. The placid scene rippled, the ripples shimmering in the water’s reflection, before shattering briefly into irregular fragments that revealed a dazzling streak of sky—a brilliance previously unnoticed.

When Yun Shen found her, his urgency and concern hadn’t lessened, but unlike the comfortable, familiar chattering of before, he stared at her, scrutinizing her intently. He stopped arguing with her, yet his gaze held a peculiar intensity, instinctively evoking a tingling numbness bubbling up from deep within.

Perhaps it was because they hadn’t seen each other for two days, or perhaps because Chen Shu, after halting the flood, rushing to the fire, and then leaping off the cliff, had finally exhausted the ample spiritual energy she always carried with her. For the first time, she was stepping solidly upon the ground. Her feet sank into the mud, each step sticky and clinging, making her entire body feel out of place.

This sensation was unfamiliar and awkward.

Not even the metallic tang of freshly caught prey could dispel the lingering numbness. She walked back to where they had fallen, hesitated for a considerable while, then took a deep breath, charged forward recklessly, heedless of anything else, straight towards the small rocky cave where Yun Shen had taken shelter.

Yun Shen was stacking firewood. On the ground lay his ever-present gray robe, likely cushioned beneath with some straw or soft earth; it looked supremely comfortable. Chen Shu blinked. The unbearable discomfort she couldn’t shake off just moments before was instantly forgotten. Her lips spread into a grin, her steps quickened so much that the jangling bundles on her back almost drowned out her footsteps.

She dashed right behind Yun Shen. Seeing he hadn’t noticed her yet and was still calmly arranging the dry branches, her inexplicable joy intensified. She was just about to scare him with a dead rabbit when his unhurried voice drifted over:

“Back?”

He spoke without even turning to look at her.

“Back!”

Chen Shu wasn’t annoyed. Cheerfully, she tipped over the small bundle on her back. The roughly processed prey tumbled out, piling up with a thud against a large rock nearby. As the last two eggs were about to fall, she abruptly remembered and snatched them out of mid-air with a swift motion, heaving a sigh of relief.

Turning, she saw Yun Shen had also looked over at the sound. For a rare moment, he seemed startled, wearing an odd expression. Meeting her eyes, he said, “…How did you manage to hunt so much?”

“They liked me! They ran straight into my trap!”

Chen Shu clapped her hands grandly, unnoticed drops of blood spattering onto Yun Shen’s robe. Yun Shen lowered his gaze, his lips twitched slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he rose from the ground, limped over to the pile of game, picked out some manageable pieces of meat, patted the prepared spot beside him, and gestured for Chen Shu to sit.

Perhaps because of Chen Shu’s skin-deep hand injury, or perhaps because Chen Shu had saved him and was now his great benefactor — whatever the reason, whenever Chen Shu brought back prey, Yun Shen would take care of everything without a word, simply arranging things in a manner that clearly said Chen Shu only needed to sit and wait to eat.

Naturally, with someone volunteering to handle things, Chen Shu lapped up the free time, sitting down without the slightest hint of reserve.

Eventually, watching Yun Shen limping around still busily preparing ingredients stirred a twinge of guilt within her. She scooted closer to him, grasping for conversation: “Is your wound any better? Still hurting?”

Hearing her ask this, how could Yun Shen not see it as casual chatter? He answered with a smile, “Much better. Doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh.” Chen Shu meant to express more concern, but Yun Shen’s answer made the words stick. She looked around and asked instead, “Then why do I feel like your injury didn’t seem this obvious before?”

Yun Shen finally paused, glancing down at his ankle along with her.

Through the layers of clothing and trousers, this “injury” was indeed slightly more swollen than before. Yun Shen, having seen many wounded, knew that after some time, a wound usually swells noticeably. Afraid it wouldn’t show clearly beneath his clothes, he had deliberately made it appear this visibly puffed up.

But how could he explain this to Chen Shu? Stumped, he was about to attempt an explanation when Chen Shu, pressing her warm hands briefly against the spot, looked back at him, her bright eyes fixed on his face. Then she piped up clearly: “I know! It’s because you’re too skinny! You bruise easily like this. You need to eat more meat!”

Yun Shen froze again. He almost instinctively lifted a hand to stroke the tousled hair falling near his knee, but quickly caught himself. With a faint smile, he said, “Yes, yes. Isn’t that exactly what I’m about to do, thanks to you – enjoy some big, hearty meats?” As he spoke, he turned slightly to arrange the dry firewood, picking up the flint stones he’d found earlier from the ground, ready to start the fire.

Now Chen Shu was idle again. Normally, she would be happy to relax, but today, in front of Yun Shen who was acting slightly unusual, the moment she relaxed, the familiar numbness prickled back.

Pursing her lips, puffing her cheeks, she watched Yun Shen turn his back to fiddle with the firewood. A sudden idea popped into her head —

Yun Shen was just coaxing out sparks, bringing the stone closer to the kindling. He lifted his head, the rock an inch from the wood pile, when a sudden tongue of flame burst out from his right, rushing towards his face as if to startle him. It then playfully licked his fingers before diving into the dry branches, instantly igniting the carefully arranged pile.

The fire blossomed quickly, spreading from the initial spark into a blaze that soon enveloped all the firewood Yun Shen had gathered. It flared brighter, as if letting out a sigh of satisfaction, then settled into a stable burn. That bright light reflected in Chen Shu’s eyes, as if mirroring the vibrant flame inside her spirit – blazing hot, yet undeniably youthful.

Yun Shen took a sharp breath. Finally, that detached, controlled expression dissolved from his face completely. He let out a soft, incredulous breath of laughter, turned, and looked directly at Chen Shu, simply asking:

“Regained your spiritual power?”

“Just a little, all used up,” Chen Shu said, blinking her eyes honestly. Then, stealing a glance at Yun Shen’s expression and unable to quell her itch of curiosity, she added, “…Did it scare you?”

“…Not as much as when you jumped off the cliff earlier.”

With those words, the previously tense and rigid atmosphere inexplicably dissipated, swept clear by his simple remark like warm winter sun melting sticky ice into a gurgling stream of refreshing, clear water. Unconsciously, Chen Shu let out a sigh of relief, her cheeks now flushed from the fire’s warmth, her voice free from constraints as she declared, “And you weren’t scary? Don’t think I didn’t notice—you loosened the ropes yourself, outright scaring her…”

“No, she didn’t tie it tightly. When I panicked, I just broke free,” Yun Shen categorically denied, extending his hand toward her, beckoning.

Chen Shu stood right before him. Confused by his gesture, she tilted her head, pressed her lips together, then leaned forward at a bewildering loss. Obediently, she pressed her head against Yun Shen’s hand.

Her loose hair tumbled over his palm, soft and compliant against his skin like a little beast tucking its fangs. This touch stirred a deeper laugh from Yun Shen.

He paused, seeming to unconsciously draw back a finger. Its tip brushed the tender skin at Chen Shu’s throat, faint and fleeting, before he halted his motion. His voice steadied as he said, “I meant to hand me those wooden arrows you just made. We can skewer the meat, then begin roasting.”

While speaking, his hand under her head did not budge. Only when Chen Shu startled upright—her earlier docile quiet wholly abandoned—did she fumble at her garments to fish out the arrows.

Four or five emerged; she’d used one arrow hunting. Handing them to Yun Shen, she asked, “Should I skewer them?”

“Your hand is injured. Let me do it,” Yun Shen replied, stretching to take them.

Mentioning the wound stirred her competitive fire. “What’s a scratch like this?” she huffed, clutching tighter with no intent to release them, poised to battle Yun Shen.

Starkly mismatched in strength, with her resolved to resist—how could he reclaim the arrows? Yun Shen offered no words—instead, lifting his gaze with quiet composure, watching her with a mild, radiant grin that somehow deflated Chen Shu’s resolve. Just as she braced to retort while puffing her neck stiffly, Yun Shen moved.

He didn’t snatch the arrows, but calmly pulled back his other hand—letting the rocks he earlier struck for sparks clatter lightly to the ground. This done, he turned to her, knelt slightly forward, and reached out again. Instinctively flinching, Chen Shu swiftly realized that Yun Shen wasn’t seizing at the arrows this time, but—took her hand.

His fingers were slightly cold as they surrounded her wound. At his touch, Chen Shu recognized the dull throb beneath her skin she hadn’t noticed—like flames gently tracing the injury with lingering heat. The pain crept in, easing just when it stung enough to grow sharp, sparing her from lasting agonies.

Yun Shen’s touch pressed feather-light around her wrist, well avoiding the injury. Only then did the numbness ripple sharply into her consciousness. The chill at his fingers sharply contrasted the burning at her wound. Too stunned to withdraw her hand, Chen Shu let Yun Shen guide her back toward him.

“It seems better,” he said, then blew faint air over her wrist. Tingling sparked into waves that snapped Chen Shu alert—yet for reasons unknown, she held herself still. Gazing down at Yun Shen, she saw him lift his head and grin up at her.

He murmured, “But just awhile ago, you went out to hunt. Now you’re working again—how can I sit idle, especially not while indebted to you as my lifesaver?”

While speaking, Yun Shen softly squeezed her wrist before letting go. Such tactics were utterly alien to Chen Shu—though her senior brother and senior sister weren’t delicate types, her master’s fussy attempts at comfort felt grating too. She’d never needed coddling… but something made her stumble over her words this time. Thinking quickly, she realized she truly had saved Yun Shen’s life. She cleared her throat, murmured “Alright then,” and released the arrows only to realize she could finally sit.

Yun Shen eased back too, cleanly butchering scraps of meat. As his attention shifted, Chen Shu mentally revisited his words, stiffened her posture, and quietly scooted nearer to his side, her movements surreptitious.

He neither acknowledged her nor protested. Whether truly engrossed in work or simply humoring her by feigning ignorance—she couldn’t tell. He quietly smiled to himself without calling her out. Briefly, Chen Shu braced her hands against her knees in rigid form, but soon her resolve frayed as she leaned hungrily beside him, staring fixedly at the small sliver of rabbit meat.

To her credit, though, she held herself back awhile—just faintly swallowing her drool. Yun Shen paused, then speared the rabbit over the flames she’d been coveting.

Fire flared eagerly—dancing at the meat’s edge with a delighted sizzle like a chorus of joyful crackles. Sneaking faint sniffs even when scent lingered unrevealed, Chen Shu beamed with sheer satisfaction, enthralled by the roasting meat like she’d found buried jewels on the beach.

Only when Yun Shen secured another skewer of venison onto the fire, flicking away a stray wisp of Chen Shu’s hair that strayed dangerously near the flames—did he speak.

“And later? Planning to seek your sword?” Chen Shu responded by twisting to face him.

“Yes!” she blurted. “Of course, I will! You too?”

Yun Shen intentionally drew silence out—adjusting the venison carefully over the firepit first. Only then did he respond: “…I can join the search, if you wish?”

“Wonderful!” Entirely missing how his stance had shifted from his prior warnings whenever she broached the matter, Chen Shu nodded as he subtly mirrored it. “That sword’s somewhere in the Valley of Villains—meaning it must be findable. Even if I don’t look, soldiers like those attackers will hunt for it. Later, I just need to go back and ask… then I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

Yun Shen’s faint grin deepened as he stirred the embers leisurely, coaxing warmth to spread through the fire’s branches. The flames swelled in a sudden rush—snapping so near the rabbit and venison that it seemed to caress their undersides eagerly before Yun Shen glanced Chen Shu’s way.

Tilting an eyebrow in both curiosity and faint teasing, he posed the counter-question:

“How did you know that the imperial side would inevitably win?”

“Is it not obvious even to children that Evil never prevails over righteousness?”

At those words, Yun Shen laughed heartily three times. After calming himself, he reached out to pat Chen Shu’s head, saying, “Right… right! That’s the principle… I almost forgot it myself. Truly, in mortal affairs, Evil never prevails. Those who stand for righteousness will gain support!”

Though Chen Shu found his answer somewhat baffling, she was being praised, so her spirits naturally lifted again. She murmured in acknowledgment, hmph-hmph, and pointed her finger: “Enough talk—can we eat now? I’ve been craving this for ages—”

“Patience—” Yun Shen said, his eyes still fixed on the fire—whether he was truly watching the flames or lost in thought, it was unclear—as he slowly added, “Good food takes time.”

—

Yet by the time they finally started eating their meal, it was already past noon. And because it was such a crude barbecue, they ate intermittently. By the time they finished roasting the next skewer, nearly another hour had passed, and the area where they’d lit the fire was now covered in the shadow of the cliff, the sun nearly out of sight.

In fact, between the two skewers of meat, Chen Shu had even gone searching nearby with Yun Shen—gathering dry firewood. Despite Yun Shen’s frail appearance and limping gait, he managed to carry quite a load. Meanwhile, Chen Shu trailed behind him like a curious tail, looking here and there. When they circled back to their camp, she held nothing but two pieces of wood she’d “helped” gather—along with an armful of strangely-shaped herbs and plants.

She spread them out at the cliff’s base, but upon sorting them, found most were not edible, let alone effective remedies for Yun Shen or herself. Chagrined, she gathered the plants back into her arms, carried them into the cave beneath the cliff, and claimed to be “crafting a grassy bed”—as if arranging them in a pile could achieve such a thing.

Regardless of the hour, however, the fire burned just as fiercely as before, roasting meat that tasted just as chewy and fresh.

The second skewer? Chen Shu relished every bite.

“Oh, right,” she said, tearing off another piece of rabbit meat with her teeth. After chewing it thoroughly and swallowing, letting out a little burp of satisfaction, she leaned against Yun Shen’s worn gray robe, narrowing her eyes as she continued: “Did you know that innkeeper—the one you’re so familiar with—is actually the kingpin of this Valley of Villains? He’s incredibly foul-tempered.”

Yun Shen’s fingers froze almost imperceptibly. He paused, then continued eating his venison leisurely in small bites, replying as if it mattered little:

“Is that so? How do you know that?“