Chapter 73: Chapter 73

Shen Jizhi approached with a candle lamp and placed it on the bedside lamp holder.

The Xie family was a well-known merchant household in Ningzhang City, and the cabin was adorned with antique charm, its various ornaments quite exquisite.

The candle lamp’s base was made of carved hardwood, topped with a slightly oval-shaped lampshade. The candlelight filtered through the red paper shade, casting a hint of ambiguous red onto Jian Huan’s back.

A sword wound stretched from her right shoulder blade to her left rib, the edges slightly swollen and marked with clotted blood. Jian Huan, however, paid little attention to it, and fresh, glistening blood beads had seeped out, as vibrant as blooming flowers.

Jian Huan clutched her dress in front of her, freeing one hand to gather her long hair to the right side as she lay sideways on the pillow. She asked, “By the way, how’s the progress with Xu Yang and Fei Xu’s Xuantian Mirrors?”

Both brothers possessed Xuantian Mirrors, but these mirrors were bound to their owners and couldn’t be used by others.

But that wasn’t a problem—Shen Jizhi was, after all, an artifact craftsman.

“It’s done. I’ve checked, and the messages are empty. We’ll have to wait for the other side to make contact.”

Although Jian Huan had gathered her hair, a few strands still clung to her back, some sticking to the sword wound, slightly stained with blood.

Shen Jizhi sat on the edge of the bed and carefully moved the stray strands aside.

The gentle movement of the hair felt like tiny ants crawling on her back.

He was careful not to touch her back with his hands, but his wide sleeves occasionally brushed against it.

Lightly, faintly, yet it inexplicably sent a shiver through Jian Huan.

Almost instantly, like a cat with its fur bristling, Jian Huan arched her back, her voice trembling slightly, “...Oh.”

Shen Jizhi lowered his gaze, looking at his hand.

His knuckles were distinct, the veins on the back of his hand prominent.

For two years, every day, he had thought of her, the person who often appeared in his dreams, now lying on his bed.

The stark contrast of white and red, her slender shoulder blades—he only needed to reach out, press her down, hold her tightly, and do what he had done in his dreams.

But now, he couldn’t.

With her, he couldn’t rush.

Shen Jizhi closed his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together. With a restrained motion, he pressed his index and middle fingers against her back, pushing her back down. His calm tone hid a suppressed intensity, “Didn’t you tell me to hurry? Why are you moving around?”

The warmth of the young man’s fingertips spread outward, creating an unfamiliar sensation.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Jian Huan tensed her back, instinctively clutching her dress tighter. She blinked repeatedly, her dark, bright eyes fixed on the golden embroidery on the pillow.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The surroundings were silent, with no sound to be heard within the cabin.

The candle flame burned quietly, and an indescribable atmosphere filled the room.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, making every sensation more detailed and vivid.

Jian Huan could feel Shen Jizhi’s spiritual energy flowing into her wound. The energy was like a blade heated over a flame, carrying a slight warmth as it dissolved the lingering sword qi from the wound.

The wound felt slightly scorched, bringing a mix of pain and numbness.

This process wasn’t unfamiliar—Medicine Granny had treated her wounds the same way before.

But back then, Jian Huan hadn’t felt much.

Now, however, everything felt off.

Jian Huan remained unusually silent, her eyes subtly misty like the drizzle of Jiangnan, tinged with shyness.

As the sword qi dissipated, Shen Jizhi opened a medicine bottle.

The medicinal powder sprinkled onto the wound, bringing a cooling sensation.

The coolness snapped Jian Huan back to reality, reminding her of her original purpose.

She gently shook her head, clearing her muddled thoughts.

Propping herself up slightly with her left elbow, she turned to look at Shen Jizhi, checking for any signs of abnormality, whether his eyes had turned pitch black like a demon’s.

Her sudden movement caught Shen Jizhi off guard.

His hand holding the medicine bottle paused, and he accidentally sprinkled too much powder.

A thin layer of sweat formed on Shen Jizhi’s forehead, dampening his stray hair.

He took a deep breath, pretending nothing was amiss, and spoke as calmly as possible, “What is it?”

Jian Huan stared into his eyes.

The young man’s light brown pupils seemed unusually deep at that moment, as if hiding turbulent waves.

From her angle, they appeared somewhat dark.

Black.

Jian Huan’s heart trembled.

No, it couldn’t be, could it?

“Nothing,” Jian Huan said, sitting up to get closer, wanting to examine his eyes more carefully. She hoped the darkness was just a trick of the light. “I just think your technique feels a bit off…”

Shen Jizhi capped the medicine bottle, his voice dry, “What’s off? You don’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t know. It just feels different from when Medicine Granny treated me. Are you sure you learned it properly from her?” Jian Huan wanted to look into his eyes, but he kept his gaze lowered. She pressed, “I’m asking you a question. Look at me when you answer. What if you make my wound worse, huh…”

The word “then” lingered in her mouth, unspoken, as her voice trailed off.

It was because the young man in black suddenly leaned closer.

His gaze fell on the girl’s face as he said, “If it gets worse, isn’t that just fine? I won’t have to repay my debt.”

Jian Huan leaned back, scolding, “In your dreams.”

But inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Thankfully, Shen Jizhi’s eyes weren’t black—they were still light brown. It must have been the angle earlier.

But while black eyes definitely meant demonic possession, demons’ eyes weren’t always black.

Jian Huan thought for a moment and called out, “Shen Jizhi.”

“Hmm?” Shen Jizhi fiddled with the white bandage in his hand. Her injury was minor, so bandaging wasn’t strictly necessary. Mainly, he didn’t dare to wrap it for her. He silently recited the Heart Purifying Technique, trying to calm himself.

Jian Huan blinked, her voice soft as she probed, “Do you smell blood?”

Shen Jizhi: “...”

Shen Jizhi looked at Jian Huan, who was sitting beside him, clutching her dress and revealing only her fair hands and back. His gaze fell on her head, “Are you sure it’s just your back that’s injured?”

Jian Huan: “...”

Jian Huan closed her eyes, deciding not to argue with him since he hadn’t charged her for the medicine tonight. “How are you feeling right now?”

Two consecutive odd questions made Shen Jizhi realize something was amiss.

His eyes scrutinized her expression carefully, but he remained composed, “I sprinkled too much medicine powder. I lost eight spirit stones tonight.”

“So, I’m regretting it right now,” he said.

Jian Huan looked up at the bed canopy above, muttering to herself, “So I earned eight spirit stones tonight? Not bad, it wasn’t a wasted trip.” She suddenly changed the subject, “Is there anything you feel like drinking?”

Shen Jizhi: “?”

“Do you want some wine?” Jian Huan asked again, “Or maybe some fruit juice? My hometown has strawberry juice—it’s red, thick, and really delicious.”

Her voice lowered deliberately, carrying a hint of temptation, “Do you want some?”

The smell of blood.

Feelings.

Do you want something red?

Shen Jizhi was silent for a while, then said incredulously, “Are you suspecting I’ve turned into a demon?”

Jian Huan blinked, looking around, “No, why would you think that?”

“I think I’m done here,” Jian Huan muttered to herself, glancing back to see that the medicine powder had mostly absorbed. She freed one hand to pull up the blanket, preparing to get dressed and leave.

Shen Jizhi moved quickly, grabbing the blanket to stop her, “Explain yourself clearly.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jian Huan tugged at the blanket, but the other end was in his grip, and she couldn’t pull it free. Her other hand held her dress, covering her undergarment.

The undergarment was her own design, a blend of ancient and modern styles, long enough to cover her navel. It hid everything necessary, leaving only her back exposed, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Before tonight, she wouldn’t have hesitated to dress in front of him.

But now, Jian Huan didn’t dare.

She felt she had acted somewhat inappropriately tonight.

After all, Shen Jizhi was of the opposite sex.

When her college roommate helped apply medicine, she hadn’t felt anything. But just now, with Shen Jizhi...

In any case, Shen Jizhi was male, and she needed to be more careful in the future.

The two of them tugged at the blanket, neither willing to let go.

Jian Huan stubbornly refused to speak, and the situation reached a standstill.

“One spirit stone,” Shen Jizhi suddenly said.

Jian Huan, who was still tugging at the blanket, paused, holding her breath, “What?”

Shen Jizhi’s voice was cold, “I’ll give you one spirit stone if you explain everything clearly.”

Jian Huan gently pressed her tongue against her teeth, a glint of cunning in her eyes as she bargained, “Make it ten spirit stones.”

Shen Jizhi chuckled dryly, “In your dreams.”

He looked at Jian Huan, “Then we’ll just sit here like this tonight.”

Jian Huan: "..."

Jian Huan: "Fine, one spirit stone it is."

She reached out her hand: "Give it to me first."

Shen Jizhi took a spirit stone from his Mustard Seed Pouch and handed it to her.

Jian Huan accepted it, cleared her throat, and said, "Here’s the thing, I think the you from two years later is really strange..."

Shen Jizhi interrupted: "Strange how?"

Jian Huan replied impatiently, "If I knew what was strange about you, would I still suspect you of turning into a demon? That’s a question you should ask yourself."

Shen Jizhi: "...Go on."

Jian Huan continued, "Then I had a dream where you turned into a demon and wanted to drink my blood. Dreams are often omens, so it’s natural for me to suspect you’ve fallen into demonhood."

She shrugged: "That’s the situation."

Shen Jizhi lowered his head, pondered for a moment, then looked up and asked calmly, "I need to know the details of your dream."

Jian Huan glanced at him sideways, extended her hand, and wiggled her fingers, making her meaning clear.

Shen Jizhi rubbed his forehead, took out another spirit stone, and placed it in her palm.

Jian Huan withdrew her hand and recounted how Shen Jizhi had sneaked into her room in the middle of the night, transformed into a blood-sucking demon, and ended with a comment: "You were really inhuman in that dream."

Shen Jizhi: "..."

His gaze unconsciously drifted to the red ribbon tied around Jian Huan’s neck and waist.

In his dream, he had torn many such ribbons.

Shen Jizhi’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He let go of the blanket, turned to his side, facing away from her, and lowered his head without denying it.

Jian Huan pulled the blanket back over herself and got dressed underneath it.

Shen Jizhi sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the rustling of clothes behind him. The heat he had just managed to suppress surged back with a vengeance.

As she dressed, Jian Huan recalled the plot from the book and warned him, "Shen Jizhi, my dreams are usually accurate. Just because you’re not a demon now doesn’t mean you won’t become one in the future. Be careful. If anything happens, you can come to me. As long as you pay me enough spirit stones, I’ll definitely have your back!"

The girl’s voice came muffled from under the blanket.

It was like the oppressive atmosphere before a summer storm, with dragonflies flying low and restlessly, dark clouds gathering in the sky, the air heavy and sinking, sinking, making it hard to breathe.

Shen Jizhi sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting his clothes to cover a certain area.

He didn’t respond to her, feeling as though he might explode.