The air in the carriage didn't just cool; it froze solid.
"W-what?"
Meng Yan's composure pulverized. The relief, the lust, the negotiated peace, all of it evaporated in a heartbeat, replaced by a sharp, guarded terror. Her hazel eyes widened, and her hand flew to cover her spatial ring, a reflex born of paranoia that she was too slow to suppress.
The Astral Mending Herb.
To the cultivation world, it was a miracle drug, the only thing capable of knitting together severed meridians. It was the Holy Grail that Shen Yu's aunt, Mei Yilan, had spent years hunting. She had even lowered her proud head and visited the Jin Estate personally, offering a fortune, practically begging for the herb to save her nephew.
And the Jin Clan? They had been the picture of grace. They had served her premium tea, offered her their deepest sympathies, and respectfully lied to her face, swearing on their ancestors that they didn't possess it.
Shen Yu watched Meng Yan's reaction now, the draining color, the protective hand over the ring.
'Jackpot,' he thought, a dark satisfaction curling in his gut. 'She has it.'
He felt no anger toward her for the deception. He held no grudge for the tea and the lies. In this world, power was the only truth, and hoarding resources for one's own ascension was the highest law. He didn't blame her for being selfish; he simply planned to exploit it.
In truth, Shen Yu didn't need the herb to fix his body. The Primordial Yin-Yang Scripture would reconstruct his meridians soon enough, fueled by the Yin Qi he harvested from women.
But the world couldn't know that.
If a known cripple suddenly recovered his cultivation without a legendary treasure to explain it, the orthodox sects would ask questions. They would sniff out the scent of Demonic Arts. He needed the Astral Mending Herb not as a cure, but as the perfect alibi. It was the only shield that would allow him to walk in the sun without painting a target on his back.
Shen Yu had thrown a stone into the dark, gambling on a rumor. And judging by the naked fear in Meng Yan's eyes, he had struck solid gold.
Meng Yan stared at him, her chest heaving.
She had spent a fortune to acquire that herb. It was her future. It was her hope of shattering the bottleneck and becoming a Nascent Soul Ancestor, of elevating the Jin Clan to an Emperor-level power. To give it up...
But then, the heat in her belly flared again, a cruel, scorching reminder of her reality.
She closed her eyes and let out a long, shuddering sigh. The fight left her shoulders.
"You have sharp ears, Young Master Tang," she whispered, her voice laced with defeat. "We spent a great deal of effort burying those rumors."
She opened her eyes, looking at him with a mix of resentment and bitter resignation.
"Very well. I... I will give it to you. But only when you have cured me completely. Only when the pill is in my hand."
She turned her head to look out the window at the passing city, refusing to let him see the moisture gathering in her eyes.
"I bought it to aid my breakthrough to the Nascent Soul realm... but you are right. A corpse cannot cultivate. If I am dead, the herb is useless to me."
Shen Yu bowed his head respectfully, hiding the triumphant, predatory gleam in his eyes behind a mask of humble servitude.
"A wise decision, Senior," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk.
Meng Yan didn't answer. She simply sank back against the cushions, closing her eyes as if the negotiation had drained the last drop of her spirit.
---
A few minutes later, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on pavement slowed, then ceased.
"Mistress," the driver's voice called out, muffled by the thick wood. "We have arrived at the Tang Estate."
Shen Yu pushed the heavy ironwood door open.
The crisp, cold morning air rushed in to meet him, biting at his cheeks, a sharp, refreshing contrast to the cloying, scented heat of the carriage interior. He stepped down, his boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud.
The carriage had stopped in front of a large, imposing manor bathed in the pale dawn light. It was a structure of dark wood and grey stone, exuding an air of ancient, fading glory. Above the red lacquered gates, a massive plaque inscribed with gold calligraphy read: Tang Estate.
Shen Yu took a deep breath, tasting the familiar air of home.
But before he could even straighten his robes or take a step toward the gate, the air in front of him shifted.
There was no warning. No sound of footsteps. Just a sudden, violent blur of motion rushing from the gate.
Before his eyes could even track the blur of motion, the shadow lunged at him.
Thud.
A body slammed into his chest with the force of a battering ram, nearly knocking the wind out of his lungs. Shen Yu staggered back a step, his boots scraping against the stone, but he held his ground. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around the slender figure to keep them both upright.
Immediately, he felt the difference.
Pressed tight against his chest were two soft, youthful mounds. They were smaller than Meng Yan's heavy, luscious curves, more like budding lotuses than ripe peaches, but they were firm and perky. Even through the layers of fabric, he could tell they were the perfect size to cup comfortably in a single hand.
"You idiot!"
The girl buried her face in his robes, her shoulders shaking.
"You disappeared for a whole day! We thought they had taken you! We thought... we thought you were dead!"
Shen Yu's expression softened into a genuine, affectionate smile. The memories of the original host washed over him, bringing a wave of warmth. This was Mei Lixue, his fiancée. The one person who had stood by his side even when his cultivation was crippled and the rest of the world mocked him.
He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing her in. She didn't smell of musk or orchids; she smelled of morning dew and fresh rain, pure, clean, and innocent.
"I'm fine, Lixue," he said softly, stroking her hair to soothe her trembling, "I just got lost in the forest near the old trade road. Matriarch Jin was kind enough to give me a ride home."
Steps approached them, slower, more graceful, but heavy with relief.
Mei Yilan stepped into the light.
She was a beauty of a different caliber entirely.
If Lixue was a flickering, youthful flame, Mei Yilan was the hearth, possessing a mature, radiant warmth that invited one to rest. She stepped forward, the morning wind catching the sleeves of her sapphire-blue robes, her presence commanding not through cold authority, but through a deep, maternal tenderness.
She reached out, her hands warm and soft, cupping Shen Yu's face. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from cold, but from the sheer, overwhelming relief of holding him again.
"You had us terrified," Mei Yilan breathed, her unique, shimmering blue eyes swimming with unshed tears that threatened to spill over. "We thought you had just gone for your regular herb gathering in the outskirts... but when the sun set, and then the moon rose, and you still didn't return..."
She choked on a sob, her composure slipping as the loving aunt replaced the Hall Master.
"I was preparing to storm the City Lord's manor myself to beg for a search party. I wouldn't have cared about the cost."
She didn't stop at his face. Her hands moved down, checking his arms, his shoulders, and his chest. Her touch lingered with a desperate, frantic sort of care. She wasn't just checking for external wounds; she was touching him to ensure he was real, her warm palms pressing against his chest to feel the beat of his heart, fearing the worst for his already frail body.
Shen Yu caught her hands, stopping her frantic inspection. He held them firmly, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles to ground her.
"I am sorry for worrying you, Aunt Mei," Shen Yu said, his voice low and steady, looking deep into her gentle eyes.
Mei Lixue pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. She checked his body.
"You really aren't hurt?" she asked, her voice small. "You promise?"
"I promise," Shen Yu lied smoothly, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
Mei Yilan let out a long sigh, composing herself. She straightened her posture, remembering her station, and turned toward the carriage where Meng Yan had quietly stepped out.
"Thank you, Sister Meng," Mei Yilan said, bowing slightly, using a term of address that acknowledged their equal standing as leaders of their respective households. "For bringing Tang Wei home safely. The Tang Clan owes you a debt."
Meng Yan stood by the carriage door. Her face was composed, but her knuckles were white where she gripped her fan. Seeing the domestic affection, the innocence of the young fiancée, and the purity of the aunt, she felt dirty. The heat in her lower belly was throbbing, a stark reminder of the "treatment" she had just agreed to.
"It is nothing, Hall Master Tang," Meng Yan replied, her voice a little too rushed. "I simply saw the Young Master on the road. It was no trouble."
She glanced at Shen Yu one last time, a fleeting, complicated look, before stepping back toward the carriage.
"I must be going. I have urgent clan matters to attend to."
"Farewell, then," Mei Yilan said politely.
Meng Yan didn't wait for further pleasantries. She retreated into the safety of her carriage, fleeing the scene to hide the flush rising on her neck and the dampness between her thighs.