Several days passed in a flash.
Because Wei Sheng Lan’s injuries had not yet healed, and he needed to take medicine boiled every day, they stayed for quite some time in that thatched cottage at the foot of the mountain.
During the day, Xin Yi took the drawings and went out to gather herbs. At night, the two of them slept on separate beds.
However, the living conditions were truly rudimentary. To avoid back pain from the hard boards, they had to layer extra thatch on the beds.
That night, she lay on her side on the thatch bed, her eyes gazing toward the wooden door, but she felt no sleepiness at all.
After a while, she asked the system, “How much longer until the Immortal Continent Grand Assembly? At the rate Wei Sheng Lan’s injuries are improving, will he be mostly recovered by then?”
The system made a rough estimate and replied with a grin, “About ten days or so. Host, you can start planning early! However, Wei Sheng Lan’s cultivation should recover to at most fifty percent.”
In the original plotline, “Xin Yi” had also gone to the Immortal Continent Grand Assembly with Wei Sheng Lan, using the excuse of broadening her horizons.
Of course, her purpose was not just that. Besides joining the excitement, the most important thing was—to see Qing Heng.
She wanted to see what her once-beloved senior brother had become after her death.
Was he heartbroken, or had he long forgotten her up in the clouds?
The original host was certain that Qing Heng would go.
Because there would be the Peony Flower Festival at that time. Peonies were not only her favorite flower, but they had also gone to the last Immortal Continent Grand Assembly together.
If Qing Heng still held even half a place for her in his heart, he would not be able to resist revisiting the old haunts and thinking of her upon seeing familiar sights.
But the original host had not guessed wrong on this point, because Qing Heng did indeed go.
Not only did Qing Heng go, but his old lover Qiong Yan also followed.
As for the series of coincidences that happened afterward, they were not what the original host hoped to see.
So she deliberately appeared before Qing Heng, using familiar words and actions from the past, trying to stir up his memories of his deceased junior sister.
…
Xin Yi could not help but sigh.
For the original host’s obsession.
Her feelings toward Qing Heng could only be described as: once loved so deeply, then hated just as much when she fell into the Demon Grotto. Unless one of them died, it could never be resolved.
It seemed that remnants of the original host’s emotions still lingered in her body.
Just thinking of Qing Heng’s name made her heart ache uncontrollably, filling her with disgust toward that scoundrel of a senior brother even before seeing him.
By comparison, Wei Sheng Lan was indeed much more likable.
At least he was good-looking, and so far, he had not done anything excessive to her. As for what came later, she could deal with it as it came.
All was silent, save for the sound of the wind.
That night remained vast with snowy intent, and the thatched roof even emitted faint rustling sounds nonstop.
Xin Yi did not know how she fell asleep, but when she woke, daylight had already brightened.
She slept with flushed cheeks, dazed almond eyes, disheveled black hair, and a few pieces of thatch rolled inside her plain white skirt hem. She did not look very clever.
Wei Sheng Lan also noticed this. After thinking for a moment, he decided to remind her. “Your skirt hem…”
Xin Yi: “Ah?”
She yawned, then rubbed her sore almond eyes.
The stretching motion loosened the ties at her collar a bit, revealing the delicate, jade-like white skin beside her slender neck.
But her brows and eyes were purely innocent and naive; she was utterly unaware.
Wei Sheng Lan was momentarily stunned, then looked away.
His face showed no expression, and his tone was flat. “There is thatch on your skirt hem.”
Xin Yi let out another “Ah,” then finally lowered her head to check her clothes. She discovered that a few pieces of thatch had rolled in while she slept the night before.
She picked out the grass blades, carefully straightened her clothes, and then got up.
The youth had woken earlier than her—or perhaps he had not slept at all.
After foundation establishment, cultivators in the immortal world generally strove to emulate immortals in all things. They omitted eating, drinking, excreting, and even sleep.
For them, these were no longer necessities.
But if one wanted to indulge in them as a hobby, that was possible too. Though it sounded somewhat like indulging in trifles and losing one’s ambition, and it might affect cultivation progress.
So Xin Yi kept the wild fruits and pastries she gathered to herself and did not share them with Wei Sheng Lan.
She ate alone without any psychological burden.
Another two days passed, and the youth’s body improved a bit more. Thus, he was no longer content to lie on the bed recuperating.
Instead, he began rising early to practice swordplay.
After dawn, the courtyard was full of rustling accumulated snow.
Beyond the gray tiled walls, things had already begun to mottled and fall away. Looking out, there was not even a courtyard gate, only a few wild fruit trees hung with frost.
Xin Yi did not want to rise early, but she had no choice. To maintain the persona of a devoted couple deeply in love like mandarin ducks, she had to force herself to get up with him.
Fortunately, she did not need to practice swordplay in the cold; she just had to be an admiring spectator nearby, providing emotional value whenever possible.
It had to be said that Wei Sheng Lan’s bearing was always excellent. Just standing there, he was aloof and otherworldly, pleasing to the eye like a painting.
Handsomely so, beyond measure.
She found that Wei Sheng Lan was a person with little emotion—or rather, his thoughts were profound and unpredictable, never easily revealed to others.
Had there been exceptions in the past? Xin Yi thought hard: Qiong Yan probably counted as one.
And very likely the only one.
She had read many such dramatic scripts: the aloof immortal lord with cultivation filling his mind, devoid of normal human emotions.
One day, he met a charming demoness in red, who stirred his heartstrings, unfolding a series of heart-wrenching tales of love and hate.
In such stories, there was always a childhood sweetheart, a junior sister who suffered for love, betrayed a thousand times yet never voicing it.
She, as the abandoned onlooker, witnessed their sublime romance.
Xin Yi thought this way and inexplicably felt a bit sentimental.
Because in the script she had, there were at least two such “aloof immortal lords”—both Qing Heng and Wei Sheng Lan qualified.
The morning light was dim, and the thin frost on the wild fruits hanging from the branches gradually began to melt.
Wei Sheng Lan sheathed his long sword and turned to see this scene.
The courtyard full of pristine white snow, the girl in plain clothes with black hair, clear brows and eyes, now tilting her head against the swing’s rope on one side, still holding a half-eaten pastry in her hand.
But her slightly drooping lashes, paired with a somewhat dazed expression, plainly showed she was lost in thought.
Wei Sheng Lan was not the type to be interested in others’ inner worlds.
But perhaps due to their time together, he had grown accustomed to her presence. In this utterly ordinary moment, he could not help but wonder what she was thinking.
He did not consider himself gentle or considerate toward her.
He even failed to understand why the girl, clearly sleepy, insisted on forcing herself to stay alert and accompany him for morning sword practice.
The girl heard his question, and her yawning hand paused slightly.
Then her dark, lustrous eyes showed a bit of surprise. She blinked lightly and said in the most natural, soft tone, “Because you are my husband, and also because I like you.”
And indeed, as she said, she cheered him on everywhere.
Even if he merely felled a small tree in the courtyard with his sword intent, she would pause her eating, smile brightly, and cheer for him. “So amazing! I’ve never seen a tree cut so cleanly!”
Wei Sheng Lan: “…”
What was this, beauty in the eye of the beholder?
Fortunately, after this period of exposure, he could already face such exaggerated praise calmly.
And the girl’s almond eyes, always brimming with smiles.
The courtyard was silent. Wei Sheng Lan walked up to her with his sword.
Looking down at the pastry crumbs on the girl’s lips on the swing, he did not know why but let out a faint chuckle.
The sound was very soft and small, but Xin Yi still heard it.
She snapped back to attention and looked at the white-clothed youth before her in surprise, uncertainly saying, “…Did you just laugh?”
The youth did not answer her directly. Instead, he narrowed his deep, dark eyes and voiced the thought he had pondered these days.
—Once his injuries healed, he wanted to join the Azure Cloud Sect.
Xin Yi: “…”
Good grief. Even heavily injured and amnesiac, he could not change his destined path.
After going around in circles, he still planned to join the Azure Cloud Sect.
What could she say?
In a certain sense, she truly was Wei Sheng Lan’s fated Shiniang.
Though surprised, she vaguely understood.
With Wei Sheng Lan’s personality, he would never easily settle for the status quo. He would not give up on recovering his memories, nor be content as a rootless loose cultivator.
Looking across the entire Immortal Continent, the Azure Cloud Sect was the strongest sect in every aspect.
And the fastest place to improve oneself.
Perhaps because Wei Sheng Lan had been bullied in his youth, humiliated by both immortals and demons at will.
Thus, deep down, he only believed in fists and power.
Seeing her silent expression, the youth frowned in confusion. “You don’t want that?”
Xin Yi looked up at him, the words rolling in her throat: It was not that she did not want to, but now was not quite right.
So she casually made up a reason. “I heard the Azure Cloud Sect’s selection is very strict. I don’t know if I can pass smoothly. And their next sect assessment is still far off—probably not until next year.”
Perhaps her concern sounded reasonable.
The youth listened and showed no suspicion, merely telling her that if it came to that, he would help her.
Xin Yi smiled gently.
But in her heart, she knew that if it really came to that time, she would likely have already returned to the Azure Cloud Sect, resuming her role as Qing Heng’s little junior sister risen from the dead.
During this time, besides occasionally tending to Wei Sheng Lan,
She spent more time out gathering herbs. As the saying goes, little strokes fell great oaks. And she got lucky twice, harvesting some rare precious spirit herbs.
Altogether, it should amount to a tidy sum.
Thus, Xin Yi made time to visit the nearby Immortal Town, sold the spirit herbs, and bought some easy-to-store food.
She also bought two new outfits each for her and Wei Sheng Lan.
That night, Xin Yi slept soundly when she suddenly heard faint rustling sounds, like accumulated snow pressing on dry branches.
Before she fully woke, the “accident” had already happened.
After three or four nights of snow that had not melted, it finally collapsed the flimsy thatched roof.
A lot of snow crashed beside her pillow, and some splattered snowflakes flew directly into the hollow of her neck.
Xin Yi shuddered violently and sat up from the bed.
She sat amid the mess on the bed, stunned for a long time.
Then she finally locked eyes with the youth not far away. After a moment of silence, the words she had brewed in her heart for many days spilled out. “Mu Lan, let’s go to the Immortal Continent Grand Assembly.”
She really could not stay in this broken place for another day.