Chapter 34: The Line is Low, but It Exists!
Returning to the room, Chen Yan and Lu Si Si both felt a lingering awkwardness between them.
Without a word, Chen Yan moved the wooden table to the bedside and arranged the meal properly. Lu Si Si sat at the edge of the bed, while Chen Yan took the chair beside her. The two remained silent, each focused on their meal.
The dishes from the school’s cafeteria were nothing new to Chen Yan—he had endured them for four years. The flavors, while unremarkable, at least remained consistent.
He ate heartily, showing the demeanor of a warrior replenishing his strength after a long battle. In contrast, Lu Si Si was as delicate as a celestial maiden savoring dewdrops. By the time Chen Yan had nearly devoured an entire plate of braised ribs, Lu Si Si had only just finished nibbling on her first piece.
“Why are you eating so slowly? Is the food not to your taste?” Chen Yan asked, raising a brow.
“No, it’s not that.” Lu Si Si’s cheeks tinged with red. “I’ve always eaten slowly… I’m afraid that if I rush, I might choke.”
She hesitated before continuing, voice barely above a whisper. “When I was young, I almost died after a piece of food got stuck in my windpipe. Ever since, I’ve been careful—too careful.”
A simple statement, yet laden with sorrow.
Chen Yan exhaled lightly, as if releasing some unseen tension in the air.
After a moment of silence, Lu Si Si hesitantly brought up another matter, her face growing even redder. “Just now… that student outside… the thing he gave you…”
Chen Yan instantly dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Ignore him. That was just my friend’s wild imagination running amok. I had no idea he was going to pull that stunt.”
“Mm.” Lu Si Si nodded, lowering her gaze. Then, almost hesitantly, she spoke again. “I know… you’re not a bad person.”
Lifting her head, she met his gaze with sincerity. “I trust you.”
[Don’t trust me too much…] Chen Yan thought wryly. When Little Fatty had handed him that item earlier, he had wavered—just for a moment.
Forcing a chuckle, he quickly steered the conversation away. “After the dust settles in two days… have you thought about what you want to do? Your life is going to change significantly. What’s the first thing you want to pursue?”
At this, Lu Si Si’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a new world beyond.
For the first time since he had met her, Chen Yan saw her brimming with life. Before now, she had always carried an air of caution, moving through the world as if walking on thin ice. To put it bluntly, she had always seemed… lifeless.
But now, there was a spark.
“I… I want to study properly!”
“…Huh?”
Chen Yan blinked in confusion. He hadn’t expected such a straight-laced answer.
“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Lu Si Si’s face flushed again before she sighed, a melancholy note in her voice.
“Since childhood, I’ve had a talent for learning. I pay attention in class, I grasp new concepts quickly, and even difficult problems come easily to me. But… I’ve never done well in school.”
Her fingers clenched slightly around the edge of her sleeve.
“I was always falling ill or getting injured. I missed too many classes. It was never consistent, and my grades suffered for it. I always envied those top students—the ones everyone admires. The teachers love them, classmates respect them, even their parents take pride in them.”
A pause. Then, in a soft whisper, she added, “I know I could’ve been one of them. But I never had the chance. So… I want to experience it—just once. I want to take first place in a test. Just once. That would be enough.”
Chen Yan listened quietly, then asked, “Anything else?”
“I want to travel!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ve seen so many breathtaking places online—majestic mountains, vast seas, thrilling adventures. I want to climb peaks, dive into the ocean, go bungee jumping…”
She hesitated. “Before, I never dared to. I knew I’d run into some accident. But now… I really want to try.”
That, at least, Chen Yan could understand.
“And… I want to eat all kinds of food.” She hesitated again, cheeks flushing deeper. “Especially fish. I love fish, always have. But whenever I eat it, the bones always get stuck in my throat. Twice, I had to be rushed to the hospital because of it. Eventually, I was too scared to eat fish anymore.”
As she spoke, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. And another.
Before Chen Yan realized it, her face was wet with silent tears.
He sighed deeply and reached for a napkin, offering it to her. “Hey now, why are you crying? We were just talking.”
Lu Si Si took the napkin, dabbing at her tears. But instead of responding, she whispered, “Chen Yan, I’m sorry.”
“Hmm?” Chen Yan frowned. That wasn’t the response he had expected. Gratitude, perhaps—but an apology?
“I just realized… By asking to stay here, I’ve inconvenienced you. If not for me, you could’ve gone home and rested properly. So… I’m sorry.”
Her voice dropped to a near murmur. “I’ve never had friends before. I rarely interact with people. I didn’t think things through.”
Chen Yan studied her for a moment before a faint smile curved his lips. In a soft voice, he said, “Come on. Eat before it gets cold.”
…
That night, they shared the same bed, resting in their clothes.
…
The next morning, Chen Yan rose early, freshening up before settling into meditation.
Across from him, Lu Si Si blushed as she woke, carefully straightening the bedding before retrieving a book and immersing herself in its pages.
Outside, the wind whispered against the window, carrying the scent of a new beginning.
Gazing at the book, stealing a glance at Chen Yan, then back to the book, then another fleeting look.
As the afternoon sun slanted through the window, Chen Yan once again performed his Banisher’s Exorcism, following the same intricate ritual as the day before.
This time, Lu Si Si needed no blindfold. Resolute, she heeded his instructions without question—no words, no open eyes, not even the slightest movement. She surrendered completely, allowing her senses to fade, consciousness slipping into the abyss.
When she finally awoke, the ominous shroud of misfortune around her had further dissipated. Only a third of its former presence remained. One more time—just one more time—and she would be completely free.
That night, however, Lu Si Si grew silent. No longer the chatterbox she once was, she merely sat in stillness. Yet, despite her quietude, she did not close her eyes—not even once.
…
On the third afternoon, the final ritual was complete!
Chen Yan, drenched in sweat, carefully sealed the last Talisman before sinking into a chair, chest rising and falling with weary breaths. He took a moment to center himself, then let his Qi circulate throughout his body, restoring a fraction of his drained energy.
Glancing at the slumbering Lu Si Si, he examined her Forehead of Fate—crystal clear, devoid of any lingering darkness.
Success!
A surge of exhilaration coursed through Chen Yan’s veins. This was his first time completing such a high-level spell, a feat requiring precision, endurance, and unwavering focus. From start to finish, he had done everything himself, leaving no room for error. Now, having conquered this challenge, he felt the swell of triumph in his chest.
More than that… he had fundamentally altered the destiny of a kind-hearted soul.
(Not that President Fang counted… That fat man reeked of deceit the moment I saw him through Heaven’s Eye Qi-Observing Technique. He was no saint.)
After steadying his breath, Chen Yan retrieved two more Evil-Dispelling and Fortune-Enhancing Talismans, igniting them softly at Lu Si Si’s bedside. This time, the paper burned slowly, steadily, without vanishing in a single fiery burst.
The Misfortune Black Aura was gone.
Only then did Chen Yan allow himself to relax completely.
Casting a final glance at Lu Si Si’s sleeping form, he hesitated for a moment before reaching into his bag. He pulled out pen and paper and scribbled a few brief lines.
…
Lu Si Si awoke to an unfamiliar silence. The last two times, Chen Yan had always sensed her stirring and greeted her immediately. But now, the room was dim, the chair empty.
Her heart lurched. She bolted upright, eyes darting around.
“Chen Yan?” she called, but no voice answered her.
Then she saw it—the note resting on the table.
The handwriting was rushed, the strokes erratic:
‘The spell is complete. From now on, you may live the life you desire. Fate willing, we shall meet again.’
Lu Si Si stared blankly.
The word ‘fate’ had even been misspelled—crossed out and replaced with ‘yuan’ in pinyin.
A smile tugged at her lips, but then her vision blurred. She sat at the table, holding the note in her trembling hands as silent tears fell.
(But I… wasn’t planning on leaving tonight, either…)
…
Back at his villa, Chen Yan locked the door behind him, trudged upstairs, and threw off his clothes before stepping into the steaming shower. The scalding water pounded against his weary muscles, washing away both sweat and exhaustion.
Finally, he sprawled across his soft bed, limbs sprawled in every direction.
Sleep.
For the past two nights, he had barely rested.
After all, sharing a bed with a delicate beauty like Lu Si Si—what man could truly sleep soundly?
More importantly, Chen Yan was no fool.
That day, when Little Fatty had stuffed that small box into his hands, Lu Si Si had seen it. Yet, she had merely withdrawn to her room without a word.
Her silence spoke volumes.
Chen Yan was ninety percent certain that if he had truly made a move on her that night, she would not have resisted.
And yet, that was precisely why he had left.
It was not that he sought no recompense—Chen Yan was no saint. He believed in the principle of effort demands reward. If he had put in the work, then receiving his due was only natural.
But to exploit a young, pure-hearted girl’s gratitude? To take advantage of her emotional vulnerability?
That… would be beneath even him.
His morals may not have been lofty, but he still had a bottom line.
…
Midway through the night, Chen Yan stirred, feeling an unnatural heaviness settle over his body. Even after sleeping, he did not wake refreshed—his head remained foggy, his limbs sluggish.
He frowned and climbed out of bed, padding toward the bathroom.
As he stepped out, his foot suddenly slipped.
His body tilted dangerously backward.
Instinct took over. Years of Qi Cultivation had honed his reflexes beyond mortal limits. Even in mid-fall, he twisted his waist, contorted his core, and planted a firm hand on the ground, steadying himself in an instant.
But as he lay there, a cold sweat trickled down his back.
The sharp, glassy corner of the shower door loomed just inches from his forehead—no more than five centimeters away from a fatal blow.
“…”
Chen Yan’s heart thudded against his ribs.
Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself upright, every movement measured, every breath controlled.
Returning to his bedroom, he sat down upon his bed, inhaling deeply as he activated his Qi Circulation Method.
A chill seeped into his bones.
Though the windows were shut, though the room was warmed by underfloor heating, a ghostly wind seemed to coil around him, threading into his very marrow.
A violent shiver wracked his body.
“Something is very wrong.”
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