Steam slowly dissipated from Liu Shiye as his blood finally calmed. All that remained was the chill of the mid autumn air.
Xue Ruo entered Liu Shiye's home through the rear doors of his residence. Inside, the house was eerily quiet, its stillness broken only by the faint crackle of a brazier and the soft sway of lanterns, their flickering lights casting long shadows across the earthen floor. Xue Ruo stepped inside without hesitation, though her sharp eyes were already calculating.
Her gaze swept across the room, her mind was always two steps ahead, measuring every angle, considering every threat. The silence weighed heavily in the air. Liu Shiye closed the door behind them, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring the isolation.
Now, close enough to observe her without the distraction of their earlier confrontation, Liu Shiye studied Xue Ruo more carefully than before. The woman who had stood before him in the courtyard was a different creature altogether from the one who now entered his domain. No longer was her anger a blazing flame, but a quiet storm smoldering beneath the surface.
Xue Ruo possessed a beauty that bordered on dangerous—sharp eyes, pale skin untouched by the marks of hard labor, and a posture that radiated quiet certainty. She moved with the confidence of someone who had never been denied anything she truly wanted. To him, she was an enigma—both the weapon and the wielder. She was spoiled by privilege, ruthless by temperament, and empowered by forces she herself would never control.
An evil, alluring woman, he thought. The type who made one wonder if the very air they breathed could be weaponized.
She noticed his scrutiny. "Enough staring," she said, her voice cool and smooth, the subtle edge of authority lacing her words.
Liu Shiye chuckled softly, breaking the tension, and moved towards a low writing table near the window. The daylight grew bright as the sun traveled across the sky. Liu Shiye shut the window for privacy and lit the wick resting in oil, casting a dim glow across the lattice and within the room.
His smile faded as he retrieved a sheet of parchment, dipped his brush into ink, and began sketching. His focus sharpened as his mind moved toward the business at hand.
"Right. The mud pools," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
He sketched out a crude diagram of a container, drawing a coiled pipe leading into another vessel. As he drew, his expression shifted from playful to intent, and Xue Ruo folded her arms, her gaze never leaving his hands.
"What I'm proposing," Liu Shiye continued, "is the production of distilled alcohol."
Xue Ruo's brow furrowed slightly. "Distilled alcohol?" she said, her voice measured but skeptical.
Liu Shiye's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Wine is fermented," he said, though his tone remained calm. "Distillation is different. It concentrates the wine. Stronger. Cleaner. More valuable."
Xue Ruo's eyes narrowed slightly, her attention now fully focused on the drawing. The concept was foreign enough to sound almost mystical. "You boil wine… and somehow it becomes stronger?" Her voice was laced with disbelief, but curiosity flickered beneath her skepticism.
"Essentially," he said, his voice easy and unbothered.
She leaned in closer, her fingers tapping the edge of the table as she examined the sketch. "That sounds like alchemy," she murmured, her tone a mix of intrigue and mockery.
Liu Shiye stifled a smile. He had anticipated that reaction. "This isn't alchemy," he said, though he made no effort to explain the intricacies of vaporization and condensation. In a world like theirs, where logic often had little place in the grander schemes of politics and war, such explanations would likely only serve to muddle the matter.
Xue Ruo leaned closer, her breath faintly disturbing the air above the parchment. "If this works," she murmured, "the result would be far more potent than ordinary wine. Immortal wine in the mortal world."
Liu Shiye met her gaze, his voice taking on a slight edge. "Exactly."
He added more details to the blueprint—containers, pipes, cooling basin, heating chamber. Beside it, he began writing a list of materials. Clay vessels. Copper tubing. Stone furnace. Barrels for storage. The design itself was simple, almost crude by their standards. But in a world without the industrial tools of refinement, the first person to organize such production would control the market—and with it, far more.
Xue Ruo was silent for a long moment, her face unreadable as she absorbed the implications. She'd seen this kind of ruthlessness before—calculations made with cold precision, the kind of vision that had toppled kingdoms and forged new empires.
"You want to sell it," she said flatly.
"I want to build an industry," Liu Shiye corrected, his eyes glinting with a dangerous spark. "Profit is only the beginning. Trade creates influence. Influence creates leverage. Once people rely on your goods, they listen when you speak. And then we gain access to resources that matter."
The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility, and for the first time since she entered, Xue Ruo allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She understood power when she heard it.
"And you need investment," she said, her voice laced with a hint of challenge. "Facilities. Materials. Workers who won't ask questions."
Liu Shiye spread his hands slightly, the motion casual but with an underlying sense of purpose. "I can design it. I can run it. But I can't finance it or hide it."
Xue Ruo leaned back slowly, studying him. "You could ask the Liu Clan."
He shook his head. "That would give them control."
Her lips curled in faint amusement. "And you trust me more?" she asked, her eyes glinting with amusement, though she knew the answer before he spoke.
"No," he said plainly. "I trust your hatred."
For a long moment, Xue Ruo stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, her lips parted in a quiet laugh. It was soft, but the humor was clear. "At least you're honest," she said.
Liu Shiye met her gaze unflinchingly. "Besides," he added, "this only works if it remains discreet at first. Once others realize what it is, competitors will appear quickly."
Xue Ruo's fingers drummed lightly against the table, her mind turning. A partnership with Liu Shiye was dangerous. But so was ignoring opportunity. And so far, this unexpected match has been amusing and fulfilling for her.
"And the profits?" she asked, her voice sharp with calculation.
"We split them," he said, his voice direct.
"And the purpose?"
Liu Shiye's expression shifted, his focus narrowing, as if a switch had flipped. "Power," he said, his voice quiet but filled with conviction. "Power we can use however we wish. For me, to form the Rings of Man and kill that poisonous bitch and her lover."
The room fell silent again, the air thick with the weight of their unspoken agreement. For a moment, neither moved. Xue Ruo considered the offer carefully—her sharp mind calculating, weighing the risks, the rewards. Finally, she extended her hand, her fingers unyielding and firm as she clasped his.
"Very well," she said, her voice low and steady. "We partner."
No witnesses, no contract. There was no need. Their motivations were clear enough. Revenge made for the strongest of alliances.
After a beat, Xue Ruo withdrew her hand, straightening as if the weight of the moment had settled within her. "Prepare your designs and material lists," she said briskly. "I'll arrange the funding and workers."
"I have the workers. All I need is the funding and the two attendants you promised." Liu Shiye corrected.
Without another word, she moved toward the back entrance. The door swung open with a faint creak, the shadows of the willow trees spilling into the room like a dark tide. Xue Ruo paused for only a heartbeat, her sharp eyes taking in the empty yard before she slipped into the darkness, her movements swift and soundless.
Her thoughts, however, refused to remain ordered.
Rumors about Liu Shiye had always painted him as a fool—arrogant, petty, weak. Someone easy to manipulate. Yet the man she had encountered these past two days was nothing like the stories. He was clever. Calm under pressure. Bold in ways that bordered on recklessness.
She could not suppress the memory—steam rising from the bath, the water flowing down his broad shoulders, the way his presence had seemed to fill the space. The unmistakable aura of power—dangerous, elusive, and intoxicating. And finally, the well endowed appendage that reminded her heart of Bashe.
Her lips pressed together as the thought surged unbidden—a stark contrast to her usual self-control. She immediately pushed the memory aside. Ridiculous. Her pride recoiled at the idea. She would not—could not—admire any man, least of all Liu Shiye, a Liu Clan wastrel who had only recently begun showing signs of intelligence. Cleverness did not make him worthy.
Nor did… other attributes.
Her expression hardened, the cool determination that had kept her alive within the Xue Clan's court surging to the forefront. Attraction was a weakness. Emotion clouded judgment. And she had not survived by indulging either.
Still, as she moved through the shadows, her mind lingered on the man and the deal they had struck, more than she cared to admit.
Ruo'er, that man is right, you really are impulsive these days, Xue Ruo sighed.
XXXX
Later that day, Liu Shiye wandered through the vibrant market district, his senses tantalized by the array of sights, smells, and sounds that filled the air. Vendors called out their wares in haggling chants, and the scents of fresh fruit, sizzling meat, and spices wove together in a tapestry of sensory delight.
Brightly colored fruits piled high in baskets, exotic spices spilling from fabric sacks, and the clinking of gold coins as buyers made their transactions created a symphony of life that made his chest swell with the promise of possibility. Each stall seemed to beckon him forward, offering something new, something rare.
His fingers brushed over the smooth skins of fruits from distant lands—exotic papayas from the southern regions, deep purple grapes from the northern valleys, and tart, sharp citrus from the western cliffs. He tasted them all, savoring the unfamiliar tang of sweetness and bitterness, each bite an indulgence in luxury, and a discovery of primitive forms of familiar delicacies.
At one stall, the vendor, an elderly woman with weathered skin and sharp eyes, offered him a sprig of cinnamon bark. Liu Shiye chewed on a small piece thoughtfully, the warmth spreading through his body as he considered the potential of these ingredients, wondering how they could be used to enhance his growing interest in brewing.
After an hour of browsing and bargaining, his arms were heavy with packages wrapped in cloth and string: dried herbs, spices, fresh fruits, medicinal plants, and even a bundle of rare roots he had never seen before. Satisfied with his purchases, Liu Shiye made his way back to his residence, the market noise fading behind him like a distant memory.
His thoughts shifted to his second training session of the day. The sun was still high in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard as he entered his humble home. There, he set down the bundles of fruit and herbs with practiced care before unrolling the ancient scroll that detailed the Three Score War Healer technique—one of the most difficult and revered forms of medicine, passed down through the centuries from the Huangfu Manor. The scroll's pure white bone slats were nothing compared to illustrious golden script teachings within.
Liu Shiye had dedicated himself to mastering this art, for the potential it held. Acupuncture. Tui Na, the tendon and bone reconstruction. And, perhaps most intriguing of all, pharmacology. These were the basics of the Three Score War Healer technique. They were complex, requiring an understanding of the body's flow of energy, its vulnerabilities, and its resilience. Yet what fascinated him most was the claim that this technique could expand a practitioner's senses beyond their natural limitations.
The thought of such power sent a shiver of excitement through him.
He began the routine with focused breathwork, drawing in deep, controlled breaths to center himself. He set his fingers on the ancient wooden board in front of him, his pulse slowing as he prepared for the first set of exercises. The three primary steps—palpation, observation, and questioning—were designed to refine the senses, heighten awareness, and increase the ability to discern even the slightest fluctuations in a person's condition. Liu Shiye's hands moved in precise patterns, pressing into the board to simulate the actions of acupuncture. In his mind's eye, he traced the invisible meridians, the pathways of vital energy that flowed through the body like a river through the earth.
With each movement, he honed his skills, not just in technique but in his ability to listen to the world around him. To observe, to understand, and to feel. He had heard rumors—whispers among the old masters—that once a healer mastered this technique, their senses would expand far beyond that of ordinary men, allowing them to read the very air, hear the smallest tremor in a voice, and feel the faintest pulse of life beneath a skin.
It was this potential that kept him tethered to the discipline, the certainty that what he was learning would unlock something greater. But for now, he was content to simply follow the steps—acupuncture, Tui Na, and pharmacology—all while his mind grew sharp like a sword tempered in the heat of repetition.
Hours passed, the light in his house dimming as he entered a deep, meditative state. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath steady and deliberate. He didn't notice the time slipping away until a knock at the door jolted him from his concentration.
The sudden interruption broke his focus, and Liu Shiye stood abruptly, a fleeting moment of annoyance flashing across his face before he turned toward the door. His body was stiff, muscles sore from his practice, but he knew he had to address the visitor. Whoever it was wouldn't have come without reason.
He opened the door with the slow deliberation of someone who had long since stopped expecting anything but trouble from the world. And there, standing in the doorway, was Liu Mingfei