Chapter 39
Chapter 39: Turning Peril into Safety
Zhuang Yu Heng never expected to leave with Song Wei Chen unconscious and return to find Mo Ting Feng on the floor instead.
The moment he entered the Marrow-Cleansing Hall, he saw Mo Ting Feng collapsed, the golden sand of spilled cultivation drifting from him in visible streams. Song Wei Chen knelt beside him, pale and frantic, clearly having tried—and failed—to shake him awake.
Zhuang Yu Heng didn’t waste a breath.
He blinkshifted to Mo Ting Feng’s side, pulled a pill from his waist, and fed it to protect his heart meridians. Then he sealed three major acupoints—Shenmen, Tanzhong, and Zhongwan—forcing the overflowing power to settle. He laid Mo Ting Feng flat atop the Ten-Thousand-Year Moist Jade to gather qi and steady spirit.
The golden sand in the air thinned. The remaining motes drifted back toward Mo Ting Feng and disappeared into him.
“Good.” Zhuang Yu Heng straightened and smoothed his sleeves, as if he’d merely corrected a crooked cup on a table. “Just in time.”
He turned and offered Song Wei Chen a hand. “Little girl—did I frighten you?”
The man before her was beautiful enough to blur the line between male and female, eyes bright as stars, lips red, teeth white, and his gentleness came so naturally it made her dizzy. Without thinking, she took his hand.
Zhuang Yu Heng helped her up and guided her toward the platform, studying her as they moved. Awake, she looked even more lively and unearthly than she had in sleep, though she was clearly shaken—her gaze unfocused, breath unsteady.
“You don’t need to worry,” he said, voice warm. “I got back in time. He’s fine. His cultivation took a slight hit, but it isn’t serious.”
“You are…?” Song Wei Chen finally managed, still half in shock.
“I’m Zhuang Yu Heng,” he said, amused. “Master of the Minister of Works Residence. Mo Ting Feng’s friend. I know medicine. When you were injured, he brought you here for treatment.”
So he knew where she came from. The thought snapped something into place, and Song Wei Chen bowed deeply.
“Hello! I’m Song Wei Chen—Wei Chen as in ‘tiny as dust.’
“Right now I’m the acting White Robe of the Dust Warden Office. They call me White Robe, but I’m a total deadweight—good at nothing except causing trouble, and as you can see, my life is pretty fragile.
“If you don’t mind, Lord Sikong, you can call me Wei Wei. Thank you for saving me.”
She bowed again.
Zhuang Yu Heng stared as if she’d handed him a new toy he’d never seen before. “You really are different,” he said with a laugh. “No wonder he cares so much about you.”
“He cares about me?” Song Wei Chen pointed toward the jade where Mo Ting Feng lay. “Lord Sikong, you’ve misunderstood. He’s fixated on me because he has KPI pressure. If the White Robe case isn’t solved soon, it’ll affect his promotion and raise.”
Zhuang Yu Heng burst out laughing and didn’t expose her.
“Then do you care about him?” he asked lightly. “You looked terrified just now.”
“Care about him?!” Song Wei Chen’s eyes went wide, round as a tea-table money toad. “I was terrified because there wasn’t another person here. If something happened to him, I’d never be able to explain myself. I already became the suspect in the White Robe case for no reason. If we end up with some Black Robe case too and I’m the suspect again, I’m finished. Am I cursed by the twin fiends of black and white? Lord Sikong, how many heads do you think I need before they stop chopping?”
Zhuang Yu Heng nearly sprayed his wine. “You’re truly something else,” he said, delighted.
Then, as if remembering something, he added, “I have a cousin. She calls me Brother Yu Heng. You two are about the same age, so you can call me that too.
“She’s too quiet. It’s better to be lively like you.
“She often goes to the Dust Warden Office. If there’s a chance, I’ll introduce you.”
Minister of Works… cousin… often goes to the Dust Warden Office…
A bad feeling crawled up Song Wei Chen’s spine. Old sayings said to strike a snake at its weak spot. Surely the universe wasn’t about to be that precise.
“Brother Yu Heng,” she said carefully, “your cousin… her surname wouldn’t happen to be Ruan, would it?”
“You know Mian Mian?” Zhuang Yu Heng blinked.
Damn.
Of course it was that Old Long Jing.
If Ruan Mian Mian found out her cousin had saved Song Wei Chen’s life, she’d probably show off until she grew feathers and a tail.
Worse—Song Wei Chen couldn’t let her know White Robe was her. And she absolutely couldn’t let Zhuang Yu Heng know she’d tangled with Ruan Mian Mian before.
“Wei Wei?” Zhuang Yu Heng’s puzzled look dragged her back.
Song Wei Chen coughed and forced her tone to behave. “Miss Mian Mian’s music is famous. Who hasn’t heard of her? I only had the luck to meet her once.
“But she doesn’t know my White Robe identity. It’s serious. Brother Yu Heng, please keep it secret.”
“That’s only natural.” A familiar voice cut in. “I already gave special instructions. He won’t say anything.”
Song Wei Chen turned.
Mo Ting Feng was awake, sitting on the jade, watching them.
Zhuang Yu Heng’s amusement vanished. “I went to the River of Oblivion as your negotiator,” he said with sharp displeasure, “and you nearly turned yourself into scrap here. Old scoundrel, I’m understanding you less and less.”
Mo Ting Feng stepped to the platform and sat beside Song Wei Chen. He didn’t answer. He only looked at her—eyes layered with so many emotions it made her skin prickle, as if he were staring through flesh and bone into something hidden beneath.
Was she truly Sang Pu’s reincarnation?
Should he dare to hope for the reunion he’d waited a thousand years for—one he refused to admit he wanted?
But if she was Sang Pu… then the one who awakened her past-life imprint likely wasn’t him.
The thought hollowed him out.
Song Wei Chen shifted under that scorching gaze, then saw the light in his eyes abruptly die. He reached for his wine.
Before he could lift the cup, she caught his wrist.
“You were terrifying just now,” she said, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “You can’t drink when you’re hurt like that… right?”
Mo Ting Feng turned his head to look at her. A faint, wistful smile tugged at his mouth.
“You would…” he asked quietly, “worry about me too?”