The Northern Song Dynasty returned south, seeking the truth of the Dao.

Chonghe Zhenren's medical skills are beyond doubt. After taking one pill, Wang Zhenhuan immediately felt all his fatigue disappear. His internal energy was also slowly recovering, and even his spiritual energy became much more active.

He took a deep breath, then got up from the kang (a heated brick bed) and sat down at the table. Since Chong Hezi hadn't closed the door before leaving, Wang Zhenhuan could still see the scene in the courtyard outside.

In the center of the small courtyard, there was a patch of soil that had clearly just been filled in, about ten feet wide. Although it had been filled in and the depth was not visible, he had personally experienced the explosion and therefore knew its power.

He was even thrown back by the shockwave of the exploding inner core, crashing directly into the courtyard wall. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but touch his chest; even now, his chest still ached slightly.

This weasel, true to its reputation as the most vengeful of all creatures, saw that it couldn't kill the two of them and actually chose to self-destruct its inner core. Fortunately, Ao Shuang was decisive and resolutely chose to self-destruct in response; otherwise, given his condition at the time, he might not have been able to escape.

Thinking of this, Wang Zhenhuan sighed deeply. He owed Ao Shuang too much, and before he could repay it, they were already separated by death. How could he let go? How could he not turn back?

He picked up the teacup that had cooled on the table and drank the water in one gulp. The cool water made him feel much better. He got up and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him, before heading towards the front yard.

It was almost late afternoon, and the sun was gradually setting. When Wang Zhenhuan arrived at the front yard, he saw Master Lu busy in the yard. He was delighted to see Wang Zhenhuan.

He hurriedly put down his tools, went to his side, looked him up and down, and then asked, "How are you feeling, young Taoist priest? Why didn't you rest a little longer?"

"Thanks to Master Chonghe's elixir, I feel much better. It wasn't a serious injury to begin with, so why should I deceive myself by occupying Lord Sun's room?" Wang Zhenhuan said, cupping his hands in greeting.

"Oh dear, young Taoist priest, what are you saying? That night, if it weren't for the two of you Taoist priests doing your best to save us, our entire yamen would probably have perished."

My master is already grateful enough, how could he possibly blame you, Taoist priest? The magistrate also knows about your brother's situation. Before he left, he instructed me, Old Lu, that if there's anything I can do to help, the entire yamen (government office) would be there without hesitation.

Master Lu grasped Wang Zhenhuan's hand, his face filled with gratitude. Wang Zhenhuan felt a warmth in his heart upon hearing his words. He cupped his hands in a respectful gesture to Master Lu and said, "It is fate. May I ask, Master Lu, where is my elder brother now?"

"Master Tongmiao said that the Taoist priest still has a glimmer of hope, so the master instructed me to place him in the side room. I will take the Taoist priest there," Master Lu replied.

Upon hearing this, Wang Zhenhuan waved his hand and said, "Please go ahead and do your work, Master. I know the location and can go by myself." After saying that, he turned and walked towards the courtyard where the side room was located.

Master Lu watched his forlorn figure, raised his hand and opened his mouth, but only sighed, saying nothing. He still remembered how spirited Wang Huanzhen and Ao Shuang had been back then.

Looking back now, his hair is covered in snow. Two people went together, but one returned; how can one not sigh? He turned around, picked up the broom by the wall, and bent down to continue sweeping the yard.

Wang Huanzhen walked along the corridor. He stopped in front of the side room. This was the side room that Master Lu had mentioned, one of the guest rooms.

The room was small, and the door was closed but not locked. Wang Zhenhuan stood in front of the door, raised his hand, placed it on the door, and then slowly lowered it.

He turned and left the gate, walking towards the outside of the yamen. It was past 3 PM, the time for evening meals, yet the streets in front of the yamen were still bustling with activity and noise.

The streets that Wang Zhen once found bustling now only evoked noise. He went to a wine shop and bought a pot of rice wine. He took out a few copper coins to pay, but after thinking for a moment, he put them back.

He then took a tael or two of silver from his pocket and handed it to the innkeeper, asking him to fill another jug. Having received the two jugs of wine, Wang Zhenhuan turned and left, returning to his residence.

Arriving at the side room again, this time he didn't hesitate and pushed open the door. After placing the wine pot on the table, he turned and went into the inner room. Ao Shuang was lying quietly on the bed.

The setting sun shone on him, like dancing flames, as if to burn him. Wang Huanzhen stood by the bed, silently watching Ao Shuang, his eyes unconsciously beginning to redden.

He wiped his eyes, raised his hand and lowered the curtain to block out the setting sun. The room immediately darkened. Wang Zhenhuan moved the table to the bedside, picked up two cups, poured one for Ao Shuang first, and then filled his own cup as well.

He raised his cup, gazing at the murky rice wine within, a reflection of his own heart. He opened his mouth as if to say something to Ao Shuang, but before he could utter a word, tears streamed down his face.

As the saying goes, things have changed, people are gone, and all is lost; before words can be spoken, tears flow. Wang Huanzhen had a thousand words in his heart, but he couldn't utter a single one. He could only drink the wine in his cup in one gulp, wipe the corner of his eye, and drink the other cup.

After refilling both glasses, he stared blankly at Ao Shuang, reminiscing about the past. From their first meeting, to their growing friendship, and eventually to working together, he realized that he had unknowingly grown accustomed to having such a person by his side.

He was learned and knowledgeable in many things. He was upright and kind, and quelled floods without seeking recognition. He was misunderstood by the world as ugly, but he never showed himself to explain.

He was a gentle, moon-like elder brother, a river god of supreme virtue, as virtuous as water. He was the one who would always stand in front of Wang Zhenhuan whenever danger arose, even though his cultivation level was only about the same as Wang Zhenhuan's.

But Wang Zhenhuan never refused. Now that he thinks about it, perhaps he had gotten used to the feeling of standing behind Ao Shuang. Looking at the person lying on the bed now, everything feels so unreal.

He drank it down, cup after cup. The wine didn't intoxicate him, but he became intoxicated by his own state. After two jugs of rice wine, Wang Huanzhen was already in tears. He knelt by the bed, holding Ao Shuang's hand, crying like a child.

Ao Shuang's hands were icy cold, just like the courtyard floor that night. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't warm them. Wang Huanzhen stumbled to his feet and wiped his face haphazardly.

He then left the house; it was past 7 PM. Wang Huanzhen stood at the door, looking at the winding path in the courtyard. Recalling Ao Shuang's icy hand from earlier, he sighed and turned to walk towards the courtyard where Chong Hezi was.

The moonlight poured down on him like water, as if it were covered in snow...