Butterfly Valley was lush and verdant, with rare flowers and exotic herbs scattered throughout.
Chen Yang and Liu Yiyi moved through the undergrowth, carefully searching for suitable Moonlight Herb plants.
"The Moonlight Herbs here grow far better than those outside." Chen Yang gently dug up a plant with silver-white leaves that seemed to shimmer with flowing light within its veins, and placed it into his basket with satisfaction.
Liu Yiyi smiled. "Butterfly Valley has a unique terrain — a spirit spring runs through it, so the plants here grow especially well. But it's so remote that few people come, and many fine medicinal herbs go to waste."
The two searched for roughly two hours more, and Chen Yang's medicine basket was already more than half full.
The sun climbed higher. Chen Yang wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over at Liu Yiyi. "Thank you for your help today, Miss Liu. Without you, I don't know how long I'd have been searching."
Liu Yiyi shook her head. "Senior Brother Chen, you're too polite. You helped treat my injuries last time, and I never properly thanked you for that." She paused, as if remembering something, and drew a small cloth bundle from her sleeve. "These are osmanthus cakes I made myself. If you don't mind, please take them back and have a taste."
Chen Yang was momentarily taken aback.
Ever since joining the Verdant Wood Sect, he had lived on plain food day after day, and had long forgotten the taste of sweets and snacks.
He looked at the faded but neatly folded cloth bundle, and a warmth stirred in his heart.
"Thank you, Miss Liu."
He accepted the bundle and caught the faint, sweet fragrance of osmanthus.
By the time they left Butterfly Valley, the sun had already begun its descent toward the west.
Chen Yang carried the basket full of medicinal herbs and the parcel of osmanthus cakes, making his way back along the mountain path.
Along the way, he couldn't resist opening the bundle and popping a piece of cake into his mouth.
The osmanthus flavor was sweet but not cloying, and the glutinous rice was soft and perfectly textured — unexpectedly delicious.
He found himself thinking of the old days at home, when Zhao Yanran had once made similar treats for him.
Back then her skills were rough — sometimes she added too much sugar, other times the heat was off — but he had always eaten every bite with relish.
Thinking of Zhao Yanran, Chen Yang's heart sank again.
The image of her being intimate with Senior Brother Yang that day was like a thorn lodged in his chest.
When he returned to the medicine garden, the setting sun had already painted the horizon a deep orange-red. Chen Yang pushed open the familiar wooden door — and froze in his tracks.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Inside the room, a slender silhouette stood with her back to him, by the window.
A pale blue dress, hair dark as ink swept into elegant clouds — he knew that figure all too well.
At the sound of the door, the figure turned, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty — it was Zhao Yanran.
"You're back," Zhao Yanran said softly, a barely perceptible unease in her voice.
Chen Yang stood in the doorway, unsure whether to step in or retreat.
He set down what he was carrying, his voice flat. "Why are you here?"
Zhao Yanran's gaze dimmed slightly. "Am I not allowed to come and see you?"
A brief silence fell over the room.
The last rays of the setting sun spilled through the window, stretching their shadows long across the floor.
"This is not a place you should be coming to." Chen Yang finally spoke, his tone unreadable. "If your three senior brothers were to find out..."
"They don't know I came." Zhao Yanran cut him off, stepping forward, her eyes carrying the stubborn look Chen Yang knew so well. "Chen Yang, do you really not want to see me that much?"
Chen Yang did not answer. He simply began sorting through the freshly gathered herbs in silence, arranging them one by one.
Zhao Yanran watched his busy back, her expression complicated. "I heard you've been doing very well in the medicine garden. Steward Wang has been praising you for being diligent and capable."
"It's a laborer's work. There's nothing good or bad about it." Chen Yang didn't turn around.
"Are you blaming me?" Zhao Yanran's voice trembled slightly.
Chen Yang's hands stilled for a moment.
Blaming her?
That was far too mild a word.
Every time he recalled the sight of those three senior brothers being intimate with her, his heart felt as though it were being cut with a blade.
On those nights, he lay alone in bed, listening to distant laughter, wanting desperately to rush out — yet knowing full well he had neither the standing nor the strength to do so.
"You are a disciple of a Jade Bamboo Peak Elder. I am a laborer in the medicine garden. There is nothing to blame or not blame." Chen Yang finally said, his voice so calm it surprised even himself.
Zhao Yanran stepped in front of him, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Chen Yang, I know you're hurting inside. But I... I have my own difficulties. What you saw that day was not entirely what you think..."
"Then what was it?" Chen Yang finally raised his eyes, his gaze sharp and piercing.
Zhao Yanran opened her mouth as if to speak, then swallowed the words back. She only said, "There are things I cannot explain to you in detail right now. But trust me — I have never forgotten the bond between us."
Chen Yang let out a bitter laugh and turned away. "Bond? Immortal Zhao, you are a cultivation practitioner now. You and I, a common mortal, are no longer walking the same path. Those three senior brothers are your cultivation partners, sharing body and soul with you as you pursue the Great Dao together."
"Chen Yang!" Zhao Yanran's voice was laced with pain. "You know full well that method of breaking the poison was never my choice..."
"And yet when I saw you with them, you showed no sign of reluctance." Chen Yang said coldly. "I saw it with my own eyes — Senior Brother Yang had his arm around your waist, whispering in your ear, and you were smiling so happily."
Zhao Yanran's face went pale, and she was left speechless.
Silence fell over the room once more, broken only by the occasional chirping of insects drifting in from outside the window.
After a long moment, Zhao Yanran said softly, "I didn't come today to argue with you. It's just... these past days, I keep thinking of the old times — of our days back in the village. We were poor then, but..."
"But what?" Chen Yang cut her off, a trace of mockery in his tone. "But it couldn't compare to the carefree life of an immortal sect, could it?"
Zhao Yanran looked at him, her eyes slowly filling with tears. "Is that truly how you see me?"
Chen Yang turned his head away, unable to bear the sight of her on the verge of tears.
Those years they had shared together, those days of leaning on each other through hardship — they were not the kind of thing one could simply will oneself to forget.
Yet the thorn in his heart only drove itself deeper.
"It's getting late. Please go, Immortal Zhao." He finally said, his voice low and heavy. "If someone were to see you here with me, it would do your reputation no good."
Zhao Yanran stood where she was, unmoving.
The last sliver of the setting sun fell across her face, illuminating the struggle and reluctance in her eyes.
"Chen Yang," she called his name softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I miss you so much."