Chapter Thirty: The Marvel of Love

“I know,” Lin Xing replied, understanding that Jiang Miao-miao was reminding him not to go too far. He answered softly and returned to the corner where he had spent the past few days, crouching there like a helpless child, silent and withdrawn.

“Is he really alright mentally?” Wang Yu asked, watching Lin Xing, who seemed like a different person. He hadn’t bantered with him in ages, and seeing him like this left Wang Yu uneasy.

Chu Xingyu sighed. “He’s been like this since yesterday. Even when he broke up before, he was never like this.”

Jiang Miao-miao felt powerless, watching her close friend in such a state.

“If only Sheng-sheng were here,” she murmured as she slowly stood, leaving the thought hanging in the air.

Wang Yu shook his head but said nothing.

At the Destiny Shop.

As soon as Qin Sheng opened her eyes, she wanted to get to the bathroom to relieve herself, but her waist ached so badly that even sitting up was a struggle. After several attempts, she finally managed to get off the bed, gritting her teeth against the pain, her resolve to give Song Qing’an a piece of her mind later only growing stronger.

“Hiss—”

Supporting her waist, Qin Sheng slipped on the slippers by the bed and made her way, step by agonizing step, to the door handle, moving out the door at a snail’s pace. But the moment she stepped out, she was dumbfounded—all the rooms looked exactly the same. How was she supposed to know which one was the bathroom?

If she had to check each room one by one, her back wouldn’t survive it.

With a deep sigh, she moved from her door, opening each room in turn to check, only to find all sorts of rare treasures inside, each more priceless than the last.

But none of these were what she needed.

With each door she opened, Qin Sheng grew more anxious, until she was near the innermost room and finally heard the sound of running water.

She breathed a sigh of relief and, ignoring the pain in her waist, hurried in small steps toward the last room. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, the smile on her face vanished—the door was locked.

Her face darkened, but just then, the door swung open.

Song Qing’an had just finished his shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, humming a tune as he ran a towel through his hair, flinging the door wide open. The instant he saw Qin Sheng at the door, he froze, instinctively covering his chest like a chaste maiden caught off guard.

“Are you some kind of pervert, spying on me in the shower?”

But Qin Sheng, pressed by urgency, shoved the still-chattering Song Qing’an aside, clutching her waist as she hobbled in and swiftly shut the door behind her.

“Qin—” Song Qing’an barely got a word out before the door slammed in his face, nearly catching his nose.

A short while later, Qin Sheng emerged from the bathroom.

There was Song Qing’an, leaning against the doorway, radiating grievance as he waited for her. The memory of nearly seeing him naked made Qin Sheng a bit flustered, but recalling how much trouble he’d caused her, her guilt quickly gave way to indignation.

“What?” she asked, pretending not to know why he was standing there.

Song Qing’an was speechless. He’d been seen by Qin Sheng, yet she acted as if nothing had happened, making him, a grown man, seem petty.

“Hmph! You think just acting calm will make this go away?” Song Qing’an pouted with obvious resentment, looking for all the world like a bullied wife.

Qin Sheng couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his expression, but the awkwardness in the air only deepened.

“What are you laughing at?” Song Qing’an demanded, unable to comprehend her attitude. Was she mocking his physique? Granted, he’d been eating well lately, but he still had abs!

“I wasn’t laughing,” Qin Sheng coughed lightly, sidestepping him as she supported her waist.

Song Qing’an frowned and strode past her, lifting a hand to block her path against the wall.

Qin Sheng blinked curiously at him. “Are you even a woman? You saw me in the shower and didn’t even blush or skip a beat...” Song Qing’an’s voice trailed off, growing softer and more embarrassed.

Seeing his bashfulness, Qin Sheng seriously doubted whether Song Qing’an had ever interacted with a woman before. Was seeing a set of abs really so embarrassing?

Puffing out her cheeks, Qin Sheng declared solemnly, “First, I didn’t spy on you in the shower. Second, I was in such a hurry I didn’t see a thing.”

“You didn’t see anything?” Song Qing’an stared at her in utter shock, flustered. “Really?”

Qin Sheng arched an eyebrow, stepping closer with a meaningful smile. “Are you sure you didn’t want me to see something?”

Caught off guard by her sudden approach, Song Qing’an grew flustered, stammering, “N-no, you’re overthinking it...”

“Then move aside, my back hurts.” The strain from earlier had left her waist aching.

Hearing this, Song Qing’an finally remembered she was still injured. He immediately sobered, asking in concern, “How are you? I’ll get you some medicine.”

“No need, just take me back to my room.” Qin Sheng stopped him, extending her hand.

The next second, Song Qing’an scooped her up by the waist.

The sudden bridal carry left Qin Sheng speechless with shock, the pain in her back momentarily forgotten. Her arms instinctively looped around his neck, and with a slight turn, she could clearly see his profile—a tall, straight nose, elegant brows and eyes, and the tiny mole beneath his lower eyelid.

“What a bright and sunny day...” Lu Shenchen stretched lazily as he left his room, only to see Song Qing’an carrying Qin Sheng in his arms, the air thick with intimacy. Lu Shenchen’s smile bloomed.

“Well, aren’t you two affectionate...” He winked at them, struggling to suppress his grin.

Qin Sheng instinctively tried to wriggle free.

“Hmm?”

Instead of letting her down, Song Qing’an only held her tighter. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Ignore him, I’ll take you back.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?” Qin Sheng muttered, her ear tingling from his breath, a little embarrassed.

Song Qing’an paid no attention to Lu Shenchen’s teasing, kicking open Qin Sheng’s door and striding inside, placing her gently on the bed as if she were a precious treasure.

Unused to this side of Song Qing’an, Qin Sheng cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Why are you coughing? I’ll have Lu Shenchen prepare a couple of doses of cough medicine for you,” Song Qing’an said as he left, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Qin Sheng ruffled her hair, wondering how to explain she wasn’t coughing from a cold, but from embarrassment.

As Song Qing’an left her room, Lu Shenchen was just returning from the backyard with a prescription for back pain. Seeing Song Qing’an, he promptly handed over the task of decocting the medicine.

“You do the medicine today, or get Xun Feng to help. I have to cook,” Lu Shenchen said, placing the herbs on the table beside Song Qing’an.

“Prepare some cough medicine too.”

“She’s got a cold?” Lu Shenchen asked offhandedly.

“Mm.” Song Qing’an took the herbs out to the small stove, carefully arranging them and lighting the fire.

Lu Shenchen watched through the window, amused by the rare sight of Song Qing’an so obediently preparing medicine for someone. “Xun Feng, you know what they say—every force has its counterforce.”

As a shadow guard, Xun Feng knew his master had changed in recent days, but it wasn’t his place to interfere. His only role was to protect his master. Still, he couldn’t help but keep his guard up about the injured woman in the room. The fact that his master had defied orders from the pavilion leader to save her showed just how much she meant to him. Xun Feng had no choice but to be vigilant—what if she was one of “them”?

“Breakfast is ready. Take it in for her, will you? See what a good brother I am?” Lu Shenchen said, raising his eyebrows for credit.

Song Qing’an left the stove, took the breakfast from Lu Shenchen with a stiff smile. “Not bad. Next time, I’ll just take less from you.”

Lu Shenchen: “...”

He should never have said a word.

Qin Sheng was propped against her pillow, engrossed in the books Song Qing’an had given Lin Xing and Chu Xingyu. She was so absorbed that she barely noticed the door open, only glancing up when Song Qing’an entered, then immediately looking back down.

“Breakfast. Leave the dishes here when you’re done,” Song Qing’an said, setting the porridge and small dishes on her bedside table. He noticed the book in her hand and raised his brows in surprise.

“Eat it while it’s hot,” he reminded her.

But Qin Sheng didn’t reply, her brow furrowed as she struggled to understand a passage.

Sighing, she was still trying to puzzle it out when Song Qing’an snatched the book from her hands.

“Eat first,” he said, not to be refused.

Qin Sheng pouted, picking up the bowl of preserved egg and lean pork congee, blowing on it before taking a sip. “This is really good.”

Song Qing’an chuckled. “Really?”

“Mm!” Qin Sheng nodded, smiling. Since the apocalypse, she’d only had instant congee. This was her first time tasting freshly made congee, and it was indeed delicious.

“Did you make it?” Song Qing’an’s reaction made Qin Sheng suspect he’d cooked it himself; why else would he look so pleased?

“No,” Song Qing’an replied, full of conviction.

He hadn’t cooked it, but he had carried it in, after all.

Qin Sheng rolled her eyes and continued eating, taking a bite of pickled vegetables with the congee—exquisite.

Seeing her enjoying the meal, Song Qing’an quietly left, returning to the small stove to mind the medicine, fanning the flames with a small fan.

“Love truly is a strange thing, don’t you think, Xun Feng?” Lu Shenchen sighed, watching Song Qing’an through the window.

“Or perhaps it’s just friendship,” Xun Feng replied coolly.

“Pfft, if I say it’s love, it’s love.”