Douluo Continent: My name is Yang Jian, and I achieved sainthood through my physical body

Hearing footsteps behind her, she didn't turn around, but her hand paused slightly, as if trying to identify the person.

After a moment, her voice returned to its usual calm and gentle tone, but the last syllable rose slightly, concealing a hint of softness: "Have you finished checking them?"

Yang Jian hummed in agreement, walked to her side, leaned against the edge of the stove, and looked at her sideways.

The stove still held a faint steam from steaming buns that morning, mixed with the fresh scent of dish soap and herbs.

He extended his right hand, and a ball of golden light shone from his fingertips, warm and gentle like compressed sunlight, slowly rotating in his palm.

He placed the ball of light close to Zhu Zhuqing's back, channeling a surge of soul power through the thin fabric of her clothes.

My palm rested on her back, and I could feel the warmth of her body emanating from her clothes, warm and steady.

Soul power flowed slowly along her meridians, like an invisible stream meandering through her body.

Yang Jian sensed that the flow of soul power within her body was much smoother than last time. Several previously obstructed nodes had now been cleared, and the soul power flowed through without any hindrance.

Her cultivation level was stable at level 43. It wasn't a rapid advancement, but it was solid and steady. She stepped firmly on each level without any wavering.

Yang Jian withdrew his hand, and the golden light in his palm dissipated gently into the air like a flame that had been blown out.

He said confidently, "The fourth level is almost complete, faster than I expected. At this rate, we'll be able to reach the fifth level in another half month."

Zhu Zhuqing neatly stacked the bowls in her hands and put them on the shelf before turning around to look at him.

She wiped her hands on her apron, her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, then looked away.

A faint smile played at the corners of her lips, her quiet expression like the gentle ripples on a lake's surface: "The technique you gave me is excellent. It's smooth to practice, without that frustrating feeling of trying hard but not being able to reach the goal."

The atmosphere between the two was relaxed and natural, as if they had returned to the days when they spent every day together. The distance that had grown due to their separation was quietly shrinking at this moment.

She washed her hands again, dried them on her apron, hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice lowered as if she were revealing a secret: "By the way, Crown Prince Xue Qinghe has come several times recently."

She turned around and leaned against the stove, her hands folded in front of her: "Every time he comes, he says he's looking for you. I tell him you're not here, so he sits for a while, has a cup of tea, and then leaves without saying what he wants. Once, he sat there for almost half an hour, just sitting there, and I had to refill his teacup three times."

She frowned slightly: "It feels rather strange; it doesn't seem like a casual visit between friends."

Yang Jian's expression remained unchanged; she simply said, "I understand."

He didn't explain much, nor did he mention Xue Qinghe's true identity.

The timing isn't right yet for Qian Renxue to disguise herself as Xue Qinghe; the fewer people who know about it, the better.

Seeing his reaction, Zhu Zhuqing wisely refrained from asking further questions, nodded gently, and turned to put the last bowl into the dish rack.

The kitchen was quiet for a moment.

The stovetop still held light oil stains and spice fragments from the morning's roasting, scattered across the surface and shimmering in the morning light.

Zhu Zhuqing turned her back to him and bent down to wipe the stove. The rag slid back and forth on the smooth surface, her movements somewhat mechanical.

As if she had finally mustered her courage, she coughed twice to clear her throat, and her voice became even softer: "Are you... leaving again tonight?"

Her gaze remained fixed on the gleaming stovetop, never lifting it; her eyelashes drooped, obscuring the emotions in her eyes.

Yang Jian glanced at her sideways.

The morning light slanted in through the window, casting a pale golden halo on her profile, making her features soft and serene, like a frozen painting.

The way she lowered her head to await an answer made an unseen tension rise in some unseen corner of the air.

He paused for a moment, then spoke in a calm and even tone: "You can stay for one night."

Chapter 214 Strolling

Zhu Zhuqing paused slightly as she wiped the stove, and a small red blush crept onto her ears, like a drop of pale red ink falling into clear water and slowly spreading.

She didn't look up, only gave a soft "hmm," and continued wiping with the cloth, but the pressure of her fingers noticeably lessened, as if she was deliberately prolonging this quiet moment.

Yang Jian stayed home for the rest of the day and didn't go anywhere.

He sat on the stone bench under the osmanthus tree, sometimes looking up at the sky fragmented by the branches and leaves, his gaze following a cloud as it drifted from one side to the other and disappeared beyond the courtyard wall.

Sometimes I would look down at the few blades of grass sprouting from the cracks in the stone slabs. The edges of the grass leaves were a little withered and yellow, but they still stood upright and swayed gently in the wind.

Sometimes I just sit there, not looking at anything, not even knowing what I'm thinking.

My mind was like a thin mist, and thoughts rose and burst like bubbles in water, leaving no trace.

Zhu Zhuqing was busy going in and out of the house.

She carried a bucket to water the flowers and plants at the base of the courtyard wall, swept away the dead leaves in the corner of the yard with a broom, and took down the clothes from the clothesline, folded them, and brought them inside.

Her figure moved back and forth in the yard. Occasionally, when she passed by Yang Jian, she would unconsciously slow down for a moment, as if she had something to say but was afraid of disturbing him. Then she would quicken her pace and continue to do the next chore.

Several times she hid behind the osmanthus tree to secretly watch him, then quickly looked away, turned around and went inside to fetch a basin of water.

The sun rose directly overhead from the eaves of the east house, then slid down to the west wall of the courtyard.

The light changed from bright white to a deep, dim yellow, and the temperature in the air changed from warm to slightly cool.

The shadow of the osmanthus tree stretches and deforms as the sun moves, transforming from a dense mass into a long, thin strip, slowly crawling across the bluestone ground like a lazy cat that changes its posture without you even realizing it.

The family gathered together for dinner in the evening, and all the dishes were home-cooked by Zhu Zhuqing.

A plate of stir-fried seasonal vegetables, the leaves bright green and tender, the aroma of garlic mixed with the fragrance of oil wafting above the table.

A bowl of egg drop soup, with egg flowers evenly scattered in the clear broth, and a few chopped green onions floating on the surface, garnished just right.

There was also a pot of stewed meat chunks that were tender and flavorful, with a bright red color and a rich, savory aroma; the meat easily fell off the bone with a gentle touch of chopsticks.

Yang Jiao and Yang Chan ate quietly, occasionally chatting about trivial matters at school.

Yang Chan couldn't help but laugh out loud at the funny parts, and Yang Jiao also pursed his lips, his eyes filled with a gentle light.

Zhu Zhuqing sat opposite Yang Jian, her head down, slowly picking at the rice in her bowl, her movements steady.

When picking up food, she would unconsciously push the stewed meat towards Yang Jian's bowl.

After finishing his meal, Yang Chan put down his chopsticks, leaned back in his chair, patted his round belly, and chuckled, revealing two small tiger teeth.

Her eyes darted between Yang Jian and Zhu Zhuqing, her gaze mischievous like a cat that had just stolen a fish: "Second brother, you should go to sleep with your sister-in-law. She's missed you terribly these past few days, she talks about you every night."

Zhu Zhuqing suddenly looked up, her cheeks turning red at a visible speed, spreading from her ears to her neck, tinged with a light pink.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something but couldn't utter a single word. In the end, she could only lower her head and pretend to pick up some food, her chopsticks hitting the rim of the bowl with a crisp, light sound.

Yang Jian's expression remained as calm as a still lake. He nodded and said in a measured tone, "It is indeed time to rest."

He stood up, pushed the chair back under the table, and turned to walk towards the stairs.

Zhu Zhuqing remained seated, lost in thought, her fingers tracing the rim of the bowl, and did not stand up for a long time.

Yang Chan nudged her arm and urged, "Second sister-in-law, hurry up and go upstairs. I'll wash the dishes. You can talk to your second brother for a bit."

Zhu Zhuqing seemed to have been gently nudged, then stood up with an "oh" and walked awkwardly toward the stairs.

Her footsteps as she went upstairs were hurried and unsteady, as if she were chasing after something, or as if she was nervous about something.

In the master bedroom on the second floor, Yang Jian had already taken off his outer clothes and hung them on the clothes rack. He was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing only a thin white undershirt, with two buttons of the collar casually undone.

Zhu Zhuqing stood at the door for a while, twisting her clothes between her fingers for a long time.

Seeing his expression, she took it as some kind of hint, gritted her teeth, and reached out to untie the belt around her waist.

Her fingers trembled slightly, and her movements were much slower than usual. The subtle rustling sound of her loosened clothes was particularly clear in the quiet room.

Yang Jian saw her movements, opened his mouth as if to say something, but swallowed the words back.

He wanted to say that he didn't mean anything by it and was just taking a break, but looking at Zhu Zhuqing's nervous and serious expression, her lowered eyelashes, her tightly pursed lips, and her slightly trembling fingertips, he ultimately didn't say anything to explain.

He looked away and lay down on his side.

The room was quiet for a moment, with only the soft rustling of fabric.

Then the bed frame moved slightly, and a corner of the blanket was pulled over.

……

When Yang Jian woke up the next morning, it was already daylight.

The morning light shone through the gap in the curtains, drawing a thin golden line on the floor.

Tiny dust particles floated in the light, slowly moving up and down in the air.

He got up, dressed, walked to the window, and opened it.

The morning breeze carried the sounds of the distant streets and the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms as he took a deep breath, which made him feel more awake.

Looking back at Zhu Zhuqing on the bed, she was still sleeping soundly on her side, her black hair spread out on the pillow like a tattered piece of silk, her breathing steady and long, and the half of her face exposed outside the blanket still had a trace of lingering redness.

He walked quietly, without waking her, and went out the door.

Downstairs, Yang Jiao and Yang Chan had already eaten breakfast and were getting ready to go to school.

Yang Chan stood at the door, bending down to tie her shoelaces, her ponytail hanging down beside her face, swaying with her movements.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she looked up and saw Yang Jian coming down. She chuckled and said in a clear voice, "Good morning, Second Brother! I washed the dishes and pots last night. Are you leaving again today?"

Yang Jian didn't answer, but casually replied, and saw them to the gate of the courtyard, watching the siblings' figures disappear around the corner of the street.

Yang Chan ran a few steps and then turned back to wave. Her ponytail swayed in the morning light. She then turned and caught up with Yang Jiao, and the two of them blended into the crowd one after the other.

Yang Jian stood at the door until they were out of sight before turning away and walking in another direction.

The morning in Tiandou City gradually became lively.

The storefront doors along the street were removed one by one and placed against the wall, revealing the shops inside. Then the lights came on and the goods were displayed.

The breakfast vendors pushed creaking carts and set up makeshift stoves by the roadside.

The moment the steamer was lifted, billowing steam rushed out, and the aroma of steamed buns and mantou mingled with the cool morning breeze, spreading a layer of warm white mist across the street.

Pedestrians walked along the road in scattered groups, some carrying bamboo baskets, some carrying loads on their shoulders, and some leading children, their steps leisurely and relaxed.

Occasionally, someone would stop at the stall to buy a couple of steamed buns, eating them as they walked, the steam leaving a white trail in the morning mist.

Yang Jian walked among the crowd, her pace neither fast nor slow, the hem of her clothes brushing against the tips of the green vegetable leaves that the vegetable vendors had placed on the stone steps.

His gaze swept over the shop signs and familiar street corners as he walked towards the Heavenly Dou Palace.

Chapter 215: At most, it can last seven more days.

The walls of the Heavenly Dou Imperial Palace are towering and majestic, their vermilion surfaces gleaming with a deep, matte sheen in the morning light.