The sickly one in F4 was the group's darling.

The footsteps faded into the distance.

Shen Tinglan's fingertips remained pressed on the silver-gray spiritual vein pattern below her collarbone, without moving.

Even through the door, he didn't need to look to know who it was. There was only one person in the entire building who would pause at his door but hesitate to knock. Ji Huaizhou wouldn't stop, Lu Ciyuan wouldn't hesitate if he were there, and Aunt Zhou certainly wouldn't.

The lines beneath my fingertips felt slightly warm, as if a smoldering fire was burning and churning beneath my skin.

He knew that the person outside the door had a lot of questions on their mind—probably questions they wanted to ask.

Ask what those things in the fog are, ask what Ji Huaizhou meant by saying "I don't want it anymore," ask him how far away he came from and what kind of old grievances he had.

But Bai Ci didn't ask anything.

Shen Tinglan stared at the tightly closed door, her heart heavy with unease.

The footsteps faded into the distance, and the corridor fell silent once more. He slowly released his grip, lowering his gaze to look beneath his skin, where the silver-gray spiritual veins were gently surging, shimmering with a faint, cool light.

The burning sensation from the lines lingered, pulling at the dull pain that remained deep within his bones. He smiled faintly, a smile tinged with a helpless wryness, and reached for the velvet box at his chest.

The moment the box left my heart, that feeling of being tightly bound to me vanished.

He opened the box.

The black meteorite iron ring was set in the soft base, its surface matte. He slipped the ring onto his middle finger; it fit perfectly, its design clean and gentle, without any intricate patterns—the most suitable and reassuring style that Bai Ci would choose.

Shen Tinglan gently stroked the cool curve of the ring, looked down at it for a long time, her eyes so deep they were almost overflowing with tears.

"This is really troublesome."

He felt a sudden jolt in his back, and his spiritual energy surged up, causing him to wince slightly in pain and press his hand against the back of his shoulder.

Last night, Ji Huaizhou helped him clear most of the blockage, but the dull pain deep in his spiritual meridians couldn't be dispelled overnight. He pressed his palms very hard, and only slowly released them after the tremor subsided.

He endured the sharp, throbbing pain in his back, stopped trying to hold on, opened Ji Huaizhou's chat window, and typed a message.

Come here, let me see your injury.

Ji Huaizhou's reply quickly popped up on the phone:

You're really not being polite, ordering me around all you want. Just you wait.

Not long after, Ji Huaizhou pushed open the door and entered. His gaze immediately fell on Shen Tinglan's tense shoulders and back, and the hand that was pressing hard on his shoulder. He glanced at his white knuckles and then gave a brief look at the black meteorite iron ring that he had just put on his middle finger.

Ji Huaizhou's gaze lingered on the ring for a moment. "It's rare that you'd call me out of the blue. I thought you were going to hold out to the bitter end. What, Young Master Shen, have you come to your senses?"

Shen Tinglan raised her eyes: "Stop talking about irrelevant things."

"You usually enjoy arguing, but now you don't want to talk about it anymore?"

Shen Tinglan slightly raised her chin: "Can it be cured or not?"

Ji Huaizhou raised an eyebrow, placed the black lacquered wooden box on the bedside table, opened the lid, and took out the bottle of dark red medicinal oil.

"Question me? Fine. Then I won't hold back today."

Shen Tinglan didn't reply, but took off her clothes and threw them on the bed.

The moment Ji Huaizhou's palm pressed against his shoulder blade, the force was more than ten percent greater than last night. The medicinal oil seeped into his flesh, forcefully pushing down along the direction of the blocked meridians. Shen Tinglan's back tensed abruptly, his teeth clenched, forcing the breath down his throat without making a sound.

Ji Huaizhou's hands didn't stop; his knuckles rubbed against the hot, dark silver-gray lines, focusing his pressure on the most congested areas. He was behind Shen Tinglan, unable to see her expression, but he could hear her suddenly stopped breathing.

"It's supposed to hurt," Ji Huaizhou said. "You know how many years this spiritual vein has been blocked. I used to hold back because I was afraid you couldn't handle it. Today you asked me to come yourself, so don't blame me for being impolite."

Shen Tinglan closed her eyes and after a long while, she managed to squeeze out a sentence through gritted teeth.

"They're getting increasingly ruthless."

"You deserve it. Since you're going to treat me, you can't just do it half-heartedly."

"...You're taking revenge on me."

Ji Huaizhou didn't loosen his grip, steadily grinding the lumpy spiritual vein, his voice flat, without a trace of frivolous joking:

"I've been working diligently and giving my all to treat you, how can you call that revenge?"

Shen Tinglan's shoulders trembled slightly, a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead, her breathing became heavy and intermittent, and she replied in a hoarse voice:

"They talk a good game."

Ji Huaizhou chuckled softly, increasing the pressure on his fingers slightly.

"If you doubt my abilities, then you should show me your full potential."

Shen Tinglan remained silent. Her shoulders tightened and relaxed repeatedly under Ji Huaizhou's touch. The scent of medicinal oil filled the air between them, a bitter aroma tinged with a faint coolness.

When he reached the last blockage, Ji Huaizhou eased up, pausing for a moment with his palm on the flushed flesh, waiting for the floating spiritual vein patterns beneath to slowly sink back down.

"Alright." He withdrew his hand, picked up a towel to wipe his fingers, and said, "This step is done for today. For the next seven days, once a day, don't even think about slacking off."

Shen Tinglan silently put on her clothes, glanced down at the ring on her middle finger, her mind heavy, and did not respond.

Ji Huaizhou tidied up the wooden box and put away the medicine bottles, speaking casually.

"Nice ring, did Bai Ci pick it out?"

Shen Tinglan paused slightly, gently stroking the matte ring face, neither admitting nor denying, only raising her eyes indifferently: "What do you want to ask?"

Ji Huaizhou closed the wooden box with a soft click, the sound particularly clear in the quiet room. He looked up, his gaze frank yet penetrating, landing directly in Shen Tinglan's eyes:

"I won't ask you anything else, what are your plans next?"

The weariness that had been suppressed during the healing process in Shen Tinglan's eyes instantly disappeared, replaced by a thin layer of coldness.

He looked down at the ring on his fingertip. It was a safe and stable style that Bai Ci had chosen, but it was worn by him, making every step he took a hindrance.

"You're asking a question you already know the answer to."

"I want you to say it yourself."

"Bai Ci—"

He paused for a moment as soon as he uttered the name.

"He trusts me, so I won't let him trust the wrong person."

Shen Tinglan spoke calmly, as if stating a fact that had already been settled.

Ji Huaizhou looked at him for two seconds but didn't ask any further questions.

He knew Shen Tinglan too well. When this man said "no," he truly meant it. It was like that in the old world, and it was like that now in this place. Sharp-tongued, nonchalant, seemingly indifferent to everything, but he never went back on his word. He used to refuse to have someone apply medicine because he felt he could handle his own problems and couldn't bear the worry of others. Today, by sending that message, he had swallowed the words "I can't take it anymore" and replaced them with "Come and see." This was the maximum Shen Tinglan could say.

"Don't stir up any more old-world power these next few days," he said. "Your spiritual veins have only just been suppressed; if you cause trouble again, I won't be able to recover."

"Um."

"Don't even touch cigarettes."

"understood."

"As for Bai Ci—" Ji Huaizhou paused, as if considering his words, but what he finally said was very simple, "Don't overthink it. He knows what he's doing."

"It's good that you called me today. Next time, you don't have to be in so much pain that you can't stand up before you speak."

I'll come again tomorrow.

Ji Huaizhou turned and left.

Shen Tinglan sat alone on the edge of the bed, looking down as she took off the black meteorite iron ring from her middle finger and held it in her palm. The water-like engraving on the inside of the ring quietly shone in the sunlight, like a very faint light.

it's wired.

His dark, matte black iron, which should have highlighted his years of scars and obscurity, instead concealed a gentle, subtle light. He was covered in the scars of time and should have been cold and desolate, yet Bai Ci carefully bestowed upon him a touch of peace.

He recalled Bai Ci standing before him today, earnestly saying, "I've memorized your lesson, Teacher Shen." The child's eyes were clear, her tone resolute, without a trace of reluctance. Shen Tinglan had lived so long, being trusted and feared by others, but no one had ever done anything like this—clearly seeing the other side of the fog, clearly knowing he wasn't an ordinary person, yet still sitting beside him, smiling and asking, "Did I pass today's lesson?"

……

He closed his eyes and slowly clenched the ring in his palm.

"You passed," he said softly, his voice barely audible in the room. "You're better than the teacher."

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away.

At the end of the misty plains, there is a city called Breath of Mist City.

Nestled against the mountains, Xiwu City appears as a vast expanse of white from the outside, indistinguishable between fog and snow. The city walls, constructed from single pieces of jade, gleam with a cold, eerie light within the mist, resembling a colossal beast slumbering beneath the water. Two towering stone statues, a man and a woman, stand on either side of the city gate, their postures contrasting. The man holds a halberd, the woman a lamp; their faces are blurred by the mist, yet they still exude an ancient and detached majesty.

Ayao stood in front of the city gate, holding up her dark red umbrella.