Chapter Twenty-Five: So Close, Yet Out of Reach

"Nothing at all? How could that be? Are you sure you looked carefully?"

"I’m quite certain I missed nothing."

Shangguan Chuci furrowed her brow. She remembered perfectly well—the treasured vase of Manager Qian had certainly reacted to Lu Chenyuan’s presence that day. Yet now, even Shen Guizhou could detect nothing amiss. How could that be? If there truly was no problem, why would Qian Dahai treat the vase with such anxiety and care?

"Uncle Shen, do you think there’s something wrong with Qian Dahai?"

"It’s hard to say. The only thing I can be sure of is that he’s a cultivator. He hides his aura very well—even I can’t tell what level he’s reached."

Shangguan Chuci suddenly recalled how Qian Dahai had been waiting downstairs earlier for Lu Chenyuan’s return, and she mused aloud, "Qian Dahai seems very invested in Lu Chenyuan. But as far as I know, Lu Chenyuan has only been at this inn for just over half a month. Could such deep ties really have formed in so short a time?"

"When things are out of the ordinary, there must be something strange afoot!" Shen Guizhou’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. The princess’s words were sensible, yet it seemed as though she held up a flawless mirror—one that could not reflect her own image. If weighed honestly, the turmoil in her heart these past days might well outweigh the closeness between Qian Dahai and that youth.

"That’s right—Lu Chenyuan is the chosen one, isn’t he?" Shangguan Chuci’s eyes suddenly brightened as an idea came to her. She looked at Shen Guizhou and asked, "Uncle Shen, in the stories you tell, what’s the most distinctive trait of the chosen ones?"

Shen Guizhou hesitated for a moment, then replied instinctively, "Does Your Highness mean those born under the star of calamity? Trouble arises wherever they go—even before they arrive, the storm is already brewing. Just by standing there, they become the source of the greatest chaos."

Shangguan Chuci snapped her folding fan shut and, smiling, declared, "Exactly. I have an idea now."

…

By the time Lu Chenyuan returned to the backyard, it was deep into the night and all was silent. He had thought his master would be long asleep, but as soon as he stepped into the courtyard, he saw a figure in blue robes quietly leaning beneath the crooked old pagoda tree.

At the sound of his footsteps, the figure stirred, but did not turn. A calm voice drifted over: "You’re back?"

Those three simple words sent a wave of warmth through Lu Chenyuan, washing away every trace of fatigue and wariness he had gathered outside. He knew that, though his master rarely voiced her concern, she was always worried for his safety. In that instant, a thousand words rose to his lips.

He wanted to ask about the secret of the "Dormant Dragon Tide." He wanted to ask whether the call from the deep sea was connected to the legendary ancient illusionary dragon. Most of all, he wanted to ask about the monster within him, the one that devoured all in its path—how it was tied to his master’s past, and how she came to possess the strange incantation that could suppress it…

But as he looked at her profile, outlined in the moonlight—those delicate features tinged with melancholy, those eyes that seemed to have seen a thousand years of sorrow—all his questions became a silent current, sinking to the depths of his heart.

He simply murmured his assent and stepped forward to stand quietly at her side. Neither spoke; only the sound of the wind filled the silence.

Back in the woodshed, Lu Chenyuan lay on the hard wooden bed as he always did. He stared up at the cobwebbed rafters, lost in thought, when suddenly he heard a faint rustle beside him. A subtle scent of wine drifted past as a figure slipped onto the haystack at his side.

His heart gave a start. Only then did he realize that, at some point, his master had stopped her old habit of sleeping wherever she pleased in the courtyard. Now, every night, she returned to this cramped woodshed and lay down quietly beside him.

When had this begun?

He suddenly remembered that day in the street, when, in a fit of anger, he’d shouted before the crowd, "She is my woman!"

It seemed it had started from that day.

The memory brought back her half-laughing, half-serious teasing on the rooftop that night, the playful glimmer in her gaze. Lu Chenyuan felt his face grow warm, his heart pounding uncontrollably.

Had she taken his words as nothing more than the brash boast of a youth, or had she… truly taken them to heart?

He didn’t dare ask, yet he desperately wanted to say something to her. This silent night felt empty without her voice. He racked his brain for a safe topic, and suddenly Manager Qian’s shrewd, kindly face came to mind. He asked softly, "Master, do you think Manager Qian is a good man?"

Out of the darkness came Situ’s faint, lazy laugh, tinged with a weariness too deep to name. "Foolish boy," she said languidly, "in this world, is there really any clear line between good and evil? There are only people driven to desperation by this world, struggling desperately to survive."

Lu Chenyuan pondered her words, yet the image of his master piercing his heart with a sword—his blood staining her robes—flashed through his mind unbidden. His heart tightened, and he asked, "Then do you think Manager Qian would ever harm me?"

Situ did not answer directly. Instead, she posed a question of her own, seemingly unrelated. "Yuanyer, do you think I would ever harm you?"

As her words faded, the woodshed grew so quiet that even the faint crackle of the candle flame could be heard.

Lu Chenyuan’s whole body tensed, and he abruptly turned over. In the flickering candlelight, he could not see her face clearly, but he could feel her eyes fixed unflinchingly on him.

In that moment, all his doubts and fears melted away. Suddenly, he understood everything.

"My life was yours to claim from the start. If you wished to take it, what harm would it do me?" Lu Chenyuan smiled softly. "But I trust you, Master. Even if that day should come, I am certain you would have your reasons."

"Smooth-tongued boy!" Situ’s voice came from the darkness, mockingly exasperated, as she reached out to tap his forehead—not too hard, not too soft. "A few days away, and you return with a mouth full of sweet words to coax me."

Yet beneath her reproach there was a warmth, subtle and hard to detect.

Then her teasing faded. Her voice softened, as light as a sigh. "Yuanyer, the human heart is the hardest thing to fathom, and the quickest to change. Someone who treats you kindly today may stab you in the heart tomorrow."

Lu Chenyuan’s heart stirred. Was she speaking of Qian Dahai—or of herself? Could that nightmarish vision of a sword through his chest truly be a warning? What would drive her to turn her blade against him?

His mind spun in endless circles, but by then, the sound of her breathing had grown slow and even—she was already asleep.

Lu Chenyuan turned to face her. In the faint candlelight, he saw her sleeping on her side, facing him. Her beautiful features were calm and peaceful, though her brow was faintly furrowed, as if even in dreams she could not find rest. A single strand of white hair had slipped over her temple, shimmering with a cold, forlorn light in the wavering glow.

"She is my woman." The words echoed once more in his heart.

He gazed at her face, lovelier than any flower, his heartbeat rising wildly. As if driven by some unseen force, he slowly reached out, his fingers trembling, wanting to brush away that stray lock of hair.

But just as his fingertips were about to touch her warm skin, he froze, hand suspended in midair.

In the end, he withdrew it.