"Young Master Lin," Gu Zhiwei stepped forward, ignoring Wangchen. "I... I am afraid to be alone. The forest is dangerous. Could I... could I accompany you for the night? I won’t be a burden!"
Ji’an groaned internally. ’If I say yes, I invite the plot drama. If I say no, I look like a jerk, and he might die, which crashes the world.’
"Fine," Ji’an sighed, rubbing her temples. "But we only have one bedroll. And it’s occupied. You sleep on the ground."
Gu Zhiwei’s face lit up. "That is fine! I am happy just to be safe!"
He looked at Ji’an like she was his personal hero.
Ji’an turned to walk back to camp, grabbing Wangchen’s sleeve to pull him along.
"Let’s go, Little Puddle. I’m cold."
As they walked away, Wangchen cast one last glare at Gu Zhiwei over his shoulder.
’I saved him,’ Ji’an thought, patting herself on the back. ’Wangchen didn’t get hurt. They didn’t have a ’mont’. Has the fate been diverted?’
She didn’t notice that while she had severed the red thread between the Villain and the Protagonist, she had accidentally tied a very thick, very complicated knot between the Protagonist and herself.
Gu Zhiwei followed them, watching Ji’an’s back with a fascination he had never felt before.
’He is strong,’ Gu Zhiwei thought, clutching his chest. ’He is rude. He holds a spatula like a king holds a scepter. I... I must know him.’
[System Alert: Main Character Gu Zhiwei’s Favorability toward Host: 20.]
[System Alert: Villain Xie Wangchen’s Jealousy Level: SPIKING.]
[System Alert: Host, you have successfully replaced the Villain in the ’Savior’ trope. Congratulations? The harem plot has now centered on you.]
Ji’an ignored the pings, too busy thinking about getting back into the warm bedroll. She didn’t realize that her peaceful camping trip had just turned into a war zone.
***
The Myriad Beast Forest was never truly silent, but at the break of dawn, it held a deceptive, misty tranquility.
The pale, filtered light of the morning sun struggled to pierce the dense canopy, casting long, ethereal beams through the shifting fog.
Xie Wangchen had been awake for an hour.
He moved through the campsite with the silent, predatory grace of a shadow. His steps made no sound on the mossy floor as he gathered dry wood, stoked the dying embers of the fire, and set a pot of water to boil.
His gaze flickered to the bundle of furs near the base of the Great Oak tree. Lin Ji’an was still asleep, buried so deep in the bedding that only a tuft of ssy black hair and the tip of a nose were visible. She was breathing rhythmically, a soft, whistling snore escaping her lips every few seconds.
Wangchen paused, the ladle in his hand hovering over the pot. He watched that tuft of hair for a long, quiet mont, his expression softening from its usual icy vigilance into sothing dangerously tender.
’He sleeps like a piglet,’ Wangchen thought, though the insult lacked any actual bite. ’Completely defenseless. If I weren’t here, a squirrel could rob him.’
He turned back to his task, his face hardening as his eyes landed on the other sleeping figure on the far side of the clearing.
Gu Zhiwei.
The "Protagonist" was curled up on the bare ground, shivering slightly in his sleep, his pristine white robes smudged with dirt from last night’s viper incident.
Even in his disheveled state, the guy managed to look like a painting, with delicate lashes, noble features, and an air of innate aristocracy that radiated even while unconscious.
Wangchen’s grip on the ladle tightened until the wood creaked.
He didn’t know who this "Gu Zhiwei" was in the grand sche of fate, but he knew how to read people.
The quality of the silk robes, the jade ornant hanging from his belt, the naive arrogance of walking into a forbidden forest alone, this was a Young Master from a prominent family. Likely a central clan from the Capital or a direct descendant of a major sect elder.
’Trouble,’ Wangchen concluded, his eyes narrowing.
In the cultivation world, "Young Masters" like this were walking disasters.
If sothing happened to Gu Zhiwei while he was with them, his powerful family would investigate. They would bla the bystanders. They would lash out at anyone nearby.
If Wangchen were alone, he wouldn’t care. He would leave this pretty boy to the wolves and walk away. But he wasn’t alone. He had Lin Ji’an.
’If this idiot dies on our watch, the Young Master will be implicated,’ Wangchen reasoned coldly, slicing the leftover spirit-boar at into thin, precise strips. ’General Lin is powerful, but why invite a storm before we even enter the Sect? I must ensure this liability survives until we reach the gate. Then, we will dump him.’
With a heavy sigh of resignation, Wangchen tossed a handful of spirit rice into the boiling water.
He added the boar at, so crushed wild ginger he’d found near a stream, and a pinch of rock salt.
He was making congee. It was a simple dish, but under his hands, the aroma that began to waft through the clearing was rich, savory, and restorative.
He separated the food ntally. The food reserved in the pot is for the Young Master. The leftovers in the ladle are for the liability.
.
.
.
"Mmmph..."
A groan ca from the bedding. The bundle of furs shifted, rolled over, and then unraveled.
Lin Ji’an sat up.
She looked... disastrous.
Her hair, usually tied up in a semblance of male order, was a bird’s nest exploding in every direction. One cheek was marked with the red imprint of a wrinkle in the fabric.
Her eyes were half-closed, glued together by sleep, and she swayed slightly, looking like a drunkard trying to rember gravity.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, let out a massive yawn that showed all her teeth, and blinked blearily at Wangchen.
"Water..." she croaked, her voice husky and deep with sleep.
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