Inside the darkened room, Ye Cheng sat rapidly on his bed, with his mind in deep thoughts.
In his mind, the sword spirit's laughter coiled like smoke: "How amusing. Your little wife's heart wavers between you and the Zhao boy. Tell me, Ye Cheng, will you let him slip away?"
Ye Cheng's eyes burned with cold fire. His voice in his heart was steady, merciless. Over my dead body.
Even if he doesn't like the person, it wasn't other people's turned to take a share in his problem.
...
Maybe it was because his emotions had been pulled so tightly during the day, or maybe because Zhao Yuyuan's sudden return had shaken him more deeply than he admitted, but Bai Jing's stomach ached the entire night.
The pain came in waves, sharp and twisting, making him curl on the thin blanket spread across the floor. His hands pressed desperately against his abdomen, sweat soaking his temples.
It hurts… It hurts so much.
The system's faint chime sounded in his mind.
[Detected: abdominal pain, risk of miscarriage. Recommendation: Pain Relief Pill, three silver coin.]
Bai Jing bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. Three silver coins, that was nearly a quarter of what he had earned with Lan Zhu's help. The thought of spending it so quickly cut into his heart.
But then he thought of the fragile life growing inside him, the child that didn't ask to be born into this mess, and his trembling fingers pressed confirm.
The pill appeared in his palm, cool and smooth. He swallowed it dry, clutching his chest as warmth spread through him, chasing the pain away little by little. His breathing steadied, and finally, near dawn, exhaustion pulled him into a restless sleep.
...
By the time he woke again, the sun had risen. The bed in the inner room was empty; Ye Cheng had already gone out. The yard was quiet except for birds noises.
Bai Jing sat up slowly, rubbing at his swollen eyes. He washed his face, straightened the house, then stepped into the kitchen for water. That was when he froze.
On the table lay a cleaned rabbit leg, fresh and neatly cut. Next to it was a folded piece of paper with Ye Cheng's firm handwriting:
"Cook this for dinner."
Bai Jing blinked, stunned for a long moment. He reached out to touch the paper as though it might vanish. A laugh escaped his throat, soft and incredulous. Ye Cheng hadn't spoken, hadn't offered any words, yet this… this small gesture was more than he had dared to hope for.
His chest warmed: "I'll make it the best meal yet," he whispered, smiling faintly.
...
Later that morning, Bai Jing set out with Scruffy, carrying a basket. They followed a narrow trail up the small hill behind the village. Dew clung to the leaves, glittering under the sun. Scruffy bounded ahead, tail flicking proudly, occasionally darting into bushes only to return with an arrogant meow as if reporting that the path was clear.
Bai Jing chuckled, crouching by a patch of earth. He brushed aside the soil, revealing rough-skinned potatoes: "Look at this, Scruffy. We'll have stew tonight."
The beast sniffed disdainfully but didn't object. As they continued, Bai Jing gathered wild greens, a few radishes, and fragrant herbs. His fingers tingled faintly each time he touched a plant, the system feeding him information. Edible. Nutritious. Enhances digestion.
That's right, he finally bought the beginners herb identifier book.
By the time they returned home, his basket was full.
Soon, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of simmering broth. Bai Jing stewed the rabbit leg with potatoes, radishes, and the same peculiar herb he always added to the fire. The faint bitterness of the plant mixed with the meat's richness, turning into a fragrance that spread through the small house.
Scruffy sat by the stove, tail thumping impatiently, golden eyes fixed on the bubbling pot.
"Don't even think about it." Bai Jing warned, wagging a spoon at the beast: "You can have some, but not all."
When the soup was finally ready, he poured himself a small bowl, placed a second covered portion for Ye Cheng, and set down a dish for Scruffy. The beast devoured its share with such enthusiasm that broth dripped from its whiskers. It pawed at the bowl, demanding more.
Bai Jing laughed but shook his head: "No. You'll get sick if you eat too much meat."
Scruffy glared, then turned away with a dramatic flick of its tail, clearly offended.
How dare you, a mere human, treat its majesty as an ordinary kitten?
Bai Jing only smiled and stroked its head: "You'll thank me later."
...
At the same time, Ye Cheng's day at the refinement guild was anything but warm.
The workshop echoed with the pounding of hammers, and the clatter of tools. Apprentices moved about carrying ores, ingots, and half-finished weapons.
Ye Cheng stood among them, his posture straight but his presence deliberately muted. His robes were patched from ash and soot, his hands blistered from endless labor.
"Hey, Ye bastard." One apprentice sneered as he shoved past, knocking a bundle of coal against his chest. "Careful not to trip. Wouldn't want you to ruin another batch."
The others laughed, their voices sharp as knives.
Ye Cheng ignored them. He bent, gathered the spilled coal, and carried it to the furnace without a word. His refusal to rise to their mockery, only fueled their scorn. But he endured it. He had endured worse in the Ye family estate.
Hours passed. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, his muscles burned from lifting heavy ingots, and still he kept working.
Finally, as the sun began to lower, a calm voice broke through the clamor.
"Ye Cheng."
He looked up. It was Mr. Lu, the senior refiner he served as an assistant, standing nearby. Mr. Lu's sharp eyes lingered on Ye Cheng's blistered hands: "You've worked tirelessly. Follow me, I have something for you. After all these, I feel embarrassed for not rewarding you for your hard work."
Ye Cheng followed him. When they reached in a quieter chamber, Mr. Lu placed a thin booklet on the table: "This is an incomplete refining technique. I cannot use it because I passed that level, but you… perhaps you can learn something from it."
Ye Cheng's breath caught. His fingers trembled as he accepted the worn pages. He bowed deeply, feeling very grateful: "Thank you, Master Lu."
Mr. Lu's expression softened: "Don't thank me yet. Effort without talent is wasted. Talent without resources is crippled. You have both… but you must learn to use them well."
"I will." Ye Cheng said firmly, his eyes burning with determination.
For the first time that day, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles.
...
Back in the village, Bai Jing was warming the soup again, humming softly. The warm fragrance filled the small thatched house. He didn't know how hard Ye Cheng was working, didn't know how many jeers he endured that day.
But tonight, when Ye Cheng returned and saw the meal waiting, perhaps there would be one less wall between them. The rabbit meat gives him more hope, maybe this was Ye Cheng way of making up with him.