The Crazy Emperor's Pampered Cousin

The young monk led the way, explaining:

"Amitabha. Please forgive me, fellow benefactors, the temple has indeed been busier than usual lately. This is because the triennial Sword Trial will be held here soon, and martial arts practitioners from all over are arriving one after another, making the monks' quarters quite scarce."

"Therefore, we can only ask that our distinguished guests stay in the secluded courtyard at the back of the mountain. Although it is secluded, it is exceptionally quiet and elegant. Behind the courtyard is a peach grove. Although it is not the flowering season now, the trees are lush and the scenery is still excellent. We hope that you will understand and not find it unpleasant."

Upon hearing this, Jing Cang remained expressionless and simply nodded, saying, "Thank you for your trouble, young master. This secluded spot suits our needs perfectly."

Shen Tinghe leaned against Xie Yanzhao, her bright eyes curiously observing the various martial arts figures passing by.

She gently hooked her finger around Xie Yanzhao's palm. Xie Yanzhao noticed her little gesture and tightened his grip on her hand in return.

He gently stroked the back of her hand soothingly, his eyes calm and undisturbed by the various gazes directed at him.

For him, as long as the people around him are safe and sound, it makes no difference whether it is a bustling martial arts world or a quiet mountain forest.

The room had a simple and elegant feel, but Qinglan, Qingdai, and the others were quick and agile, and in no time, the surroundings had been transformed.

The ordinary bedding and cups were removed and replaced with their personal belongings.

Night fell, the darkness as deep as ink.

After washing up, Xie Yanzhao carried Shen Tinghe out of the warm, steaming bathtub.

Water droplets slid down her exquisite curves and disappeared into the soft silk handkerchief.

He carefully placed her on the brocade quilt that had been laid out.

Shen Tinghe's cheeks were still flushed, her eyes were misty with a layer of watery light, and the corners of her eyes were tinged with a hint of coquettishness. Her breathing was still a little uneven.

Xie Yanzhao looked down, a satisfied and tender smile curving his lips.

He released one side and went for it.

Shen Tinghe felt weak all over, even her fingertips felt weak.

She could only raise her hand and lightly touch his dark hair, her voice soft and sweet, with a slight hoarseness from the aftermath: "Brother..."

The rain has just stopped, but the warmth still lingers.

Before long, there was a knock on the door. The calming medicine that Xie Yanzhao had ordered was ready.

Shen Tinghe leaned lazily against Xie Yanzhao's chest, letting him wrap her tightly in a thick blanket.

She felt as if she hadn't yet shaken off the passion and tenderness of the moment, feeling light and airy, as if floating on a cloud.

Xie Yanzhao took the medicine bowl, tested the temperature, scooped up a spoonful, carefully blew on it to cool it down, and then brought it to her lips.

"Yuan Yuan, be good, open your mouth."

Shen Tinghe frowned slightly, subconsciously tilted her head, and hummed softly in dissatisfaction as the bitter smell of medicine lingered in her nostrils.

"Why do I have to drink this again...?"

Xie Yanzhao hugged her tighter: "It's not bitter, I had someone mix some acacia honey. Be good."

He looked up at the dark sky outside the window.

"There's going to be a downpour tonight, and there might even be thunder. Only after taking this medicine can my Yuan Yuan sleep soundly until dawn."

The tenderness and coaxing in his tone were so obvious that Shen Tinghe felt a lump in her throat. She took his hand and slowly drank the warm medicine, sip by sip.

The medicine contained sedative ingredients, and coupled with her extreme exhaustion, being held so gently in his arms and having her back patted lightly, a strong sense of sleepiness washed over her in no time.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she murmured something indistinctly before completely relaxing and sinking into the peaceful darkness of his embrace.

A light rain began to fall outside the window, gradually turning into a downpour, and rumbling thunder rolled across the sky.

Inside the tent, the air was warm and the atmosphere was peaceful and fragrant, with only the soft, intertwined breaths of the two people filling the space.

I slept soundly through the night without any dreams, until the first light of dawn.

When Shen Tinghe woke up, there was no one beside her, and only a faint, cool scent remained on the bedsheets.

Hearing the commotion, Qinglan and Qingdai, who were guarding outside, came in to serve.

I applied a hot towel to her face, rinsed her mouth with salt, and then styled her hair into a simple updo, adorning it with a white jade bell hairpin.

The woman in the bronze mirror still retained a hint of languor from just waking up, but her eyes were already clear.

"Where is he?" she asked casually as she took the warm tea from Qingdai.

As Qinglan tidied the bed curtains, she replied, "Young Master went to the front temple and is discussing matters with the abbot. Last night's rain was heavy, and there were several landslides on the back mountain, so the road is temporarily closed. The abbot said that he might have to stay for a few more days."

Shen Tinghe gave a soft "hmm" and looked out the window.

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a somber gray, with water droplets dripping intermittently from the eaves.

Staying a few more days... isn't necessarily a bad thing.

She was quite curious about that sword-testing competition.

After finishing their simple meal of congee and side dishes, Xie Yanzhao still hadn't returned.

She suddenly remembered the peach grove that the young monk who had guided her yesterday had mentioned, and said, "Since I have nothing else to do, let's go for a walk in the peach grove."

The peach orchards in autumn have long since lost the scorching splendor of summer.

The branches and leaves are sparse, with green interspersed with a few weary yellows, and the ground is covered with a layer of fallen leaves that have been beaten down by the rain.

Upon closer inspection, a few late-blooming peach blossoms stubbornly clung to the branches, glistening from the rain, their petals adorned with water droplets poised to fall, like a beautiful woman with tears in her eyes.

Shen Tinghe strolled to a tree that was in full bloom and looked up at the few delicate red blossoms.

A cool breeze swept through the forest, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh vegetation, and also ruffled her light pink skirt and a few loose strands of hair.

It was at this moment that Song Huailing entered the peach grove.

He was looking for a quiet place to practice his swordsmanship, but unexpectedly stumbled upon this scene.

Against a backdrop of sparse autumn peach blossoms, stands a slender young woman.

Her profile, with her head slightly tilted back, was soft and delicate, her long eyelashes casting faint shadows on her eyelids, and her fingertips lightly touching the wet petals.

Song Huailing's breath hitched, and he stopped in his tracks.

He was not unfamiliar with beautiful women; there were many bright and dashing figures among the heroes and heroines of the martial world, but none of them had ever been as beautiful as the one before him… serene and distant.

It seems to be shrouded in a hazy mist, keeping it at an indescribable distance from the mundane world.

Shen Tinghe seemed to sense something and turned her head.

The moment their eyes met, Shen Tinghe was completely stunned.

This face...this young, handsome face, with a touch of sunshine in it...

"Song Huaijing...?"

She murmured unconsciously, her eyes unfocused, as if she were seeing through the person in front of her and seeing another person in another time and space.

A small bitter gourd that was even more bitter than her.

A deceased father, a disabled mother, young siblings, and a broken man.

Those were some of Shen Tinghe's few good friends in the hospital, and the people who gave her the most warmth.

The two were like siblings.

Song Huailing was puzzled by her reaction.

The beauty's eyes churned with extremely complex emotions: shock, nostalgia, and perhaps even deep sorrow.

He quickly cupped his hands in greeting: "Greetings, young lady. My name is Song Huailing, the young master of Wanjian Manor. What you just said... could it be that you've mistaken me for someone else? I don't recall ever having the honor of meeting you before."

If it weren't for him, he wouldn't exist in this world.

Shen Tinghe forced a very faint smile.

"I apologize for my abruptness. You and... an old friend of mine bear a striking resemblance. His name is Song Huaijing."

"Song Huaijing?" Song Huailing asked in surprise.