"Xingzhe, give me your hand."
Li Luoning extended his hand toward Mi Xingzhe.
Mi Xingzhe only tucked his hand farther behind his back. "Master…" Thinking punishment was coming, he hid it even deeper.
Li Luoning stepped forward and caught his wrist anyway, drawing the hand out with ease and examining it carefully.
Mi Xingzhe tried to pull back, but he had neither the strength to contend with his master nor the courage, guilt pressing him down. He didn't dare look up.
Li Luoning's face darkened for a moment. Then his gaze shifted to Mi Xingzhe's neck, studying the wound at the back.
"It's just a scratch." Li Luoning's tone stayed calm. "Qingyi—go to the medicine room and fetch some healing ointment."
"Yes, Master."
When Yun Qingyi's footsteps faded, Li Luoning turned back. The sternness eased, and a faint smile appeared.
"Xingzhe," he asked gently, "is it Senior Brother's fault for hitting you?"
"It was my fault first," Mi Xingzhe mumbled, still avoiding his eyes. "Brother Qingyi punished me—I accepted it. But… but he…" He trailed off, the awkwardness rising again in his throat.
Li Luoning took Mi Xingzhe's hand and led him to sit at the side.
"Feeling shy?" he asked, unhurried.
Mi Xingzhe's ears heated. "I'm not a child. If he wants to punish me, then punish me. Why use a method meant for children?" Just remembering the posture from earlier made his face burn with frustration.
Li Luoning let out a helpless, amused breath. "For the entire Liao Yin Immortal Realm to turn Qingyi—who has such a good temper—into that…" He shook his head, half exasperated, half amused. "I'm afraid only you can manage it, Mi Xingzhe."
"I didn't mean to anger him," Mi Xingzhe muttered, defiant in a small, stubborn way.
Li Luoning found it both funny and irritating. He only shook his head again.
"Xingzhe." His voice softened. "Do you understand the saying 'the body is a gift from one's parents'?"
"I don't have parents," Mi Xingzhe insisted stubbornly, refusing to yield.
Li Luoning smiled helplessly, patience intact. "Even if your parents aren't by your side now… your Senior Brother cares for you no less than parents would, doesn't he?"
Mi Xingzhe hesitated. The words landed somewhere tender. After a moment, guilt rose quietly in him.
Li Luoning watched him, then changed the question. "Have you learned anything from the Ling Shu Classic you've been reading lately?"
Mi Xingzhe looked up, startled. Why was Master suddenly asking about that?
Li Luoning prompted calmly, "Do you remember what the seventeenth chapter discussed?"
"Pulse diagnosis," Mi Xingzhe answered softly. He flipped through that book almost every night before sleeping. Without realizing it, he had memorized more than he intended.
Li Luoning nodded, satisfied. "Recite the passage."
Mi Xingzhe inhaled and began, unexpectedly fluent—almost as if the lines had been sitting on his tongue for days.
"The six yang of the hand extends from the hand to the head, five feet, five six three feet. The six yin of the hand extends from the hand to the chest, three feet five inches, three six one eight feet, five six three feet, combined two upright one foot."
When he finished, even Mi Xingzhe looked incredulous that he could recall it so clearly.
Li Luoning, however, didn't seem surprised at all. He only looked at Mi Xingzhe with a small smile.
"Now do you understand why?"
"I understand…" Mi Xingzhe lowered his eyes.
Li Luoning's tone remained light, but it carried intent. "Qingyi likely doesn't feel good right now. The relationship between you two must still be mended by your own hands."
He gestured toward the medicine room.
"If you're no longer angry, why not go and see whether the ointment is ready?"
Mi Xingzhe understood the nudge at once. He bowed deeply. "Then Master—I'll go see Brother Qingyi."
He turned and hurried out.
After Mi Xingzhe left, Li Luoning's faint smile slowly disappeared. His brows drew together, worry settling into his eyes as if something heavier had resurfaced in his mind.
In the medicine room, Yun Qingyi sat with his attention scattered, replaying what had just happened. Regret tightened his expression. He closed his eyes, fists clenched.
"Yun Qingyi…" he murmured to himself bitterly. "What have you done?"
He stared at his own hands.
He remembered what Master had speculated days earlier. At first, he'd thought Master was simply too anxious. But after finding the needles under Mi Xingzhe's bed while tidying his clothes—and then catching him today—it was hard to pretend it was nothing.
Did I hurt Xingzhe? Yun Qingyi's brows knit. Maybe I should make him his favorite snacks later. Make up for it.
He opened his palm, examined it again, guilt rising like a dull ache.
"Why can't I control my temper…" he sighed.
He sat alone at the apothecary table, idly turning a medicine bottle beneath his fingertips.
Outside the door, Mi Xingzhe had been standing for some time.
He didn't have the courage to go in.
He paced back and forth, rehearsing openings in his head, each one sounding wrong the moment he imagined saying it.
How should I start? Thank him for the lesson? Too stiff.
Apologize? That sounds fake.
Act like nothing happened? That feels worse.
He couldn't find a single line that would break the silence without making everything more awkward.
Then, just as the room inside and the corridor outside both held their breath in indecision, Little Bingo appeared from nowhere and darted straight into the apothecary.
Something was clamped in its mouth.
It ran to Yun Qingyi, pressed itself into his arms, and began acting coquettish, tail swishing like it owned the place.
"Ah—Bingo." Mi Xingzhe blurted from the doorway, meaning to call it back, but it was too fast. It slipped past him in a blink.
At the sound of Mi Xingzhe's voice, Yun Qingyi looked up.
He saw Mi Xingzhe standing at the door.
Mi Xingzhe's ears warmed. He stepped inside anyway.
The moment they faced each other, the air turned awkward. Neither seemed to know where to place their gaze. The silence stretched until Yun Qingyi finally spoke, reaching for what Bingo had carried in.
"Little Bingo," he said, stroking its head, "did you go playing in Ice Bamboo Forest again? Let me see what you brought back this time…"
He lifted the object and frowned in surprise.
"This is… a dragon bone? Where did you find it?"
Bingo stood to the side with an almost disdainful shake of its head, then tossed its muzzle toward Mi Xingzhe and nudged his hand insistently.
Yun Qingyi paused, then laughed softly as the meaning clicked.
"Oh?" He shook his head. "So it's for Xingzhe?"
Bingo flicked its tail and turned away, clearly displeased—like it had done its part and had no interest in gratitude.
"You are little smart one," Yun Qingyi muttered with amused exasperation. "Using me as a courier and still giving me attitude."
Mi Xingzhe sat to the side, finally forcing words out. "Brother Qingyi… I …"
"Nian Nian." Yun Qingyi cut in first, voice gentle again, but weighted. "What happened earlier was my impulsive mistake. I shouldn't have hit you. It was my fault."
"No." Mi Xingzhe shook his head quickly. "It's not. It's my fault. I made Master and you worry. I did something stupid. Brother Qingyi—you don't need to feel guilty."
Yun Qingyi watched him for a long moment before speaking again, slower now.
"Xingzhe, I can tolerate whatever nonsense you get up to day to day," he said quietly. "And I don't expect you to have high cultivation. With Master and me here, no one can hurt you."
His voice caught slightly, as if the next part scraped something raw in his throat.
"But if you make mistakes like today again…"
"I won't." Mi Xingzhe waved both hands at once, frantic. "I won't, I won't. I promise."
"It had better be so." Yun Qingyi scolded, but his palm fell onto Mi Xingzhe's head with unmistakable indulgence. "Otherwise next time, I'll break your legs."
"There won't be a next time," Mi Xingzhe muttered, lowering his head. "This lesson will haunt me for a while."
Yun Qingyi's gaze softened—and then turned heavy with something like ache.
"Nian Nian. Even if we're not blood," he said quietly, "I worry about you as much as anyone. When I saw those wounds on you, it felt like each one was cutting into my heart."
"Brother Qingyi…" Mi Xingzhe's throat tightened.
"I even wondered if I hadn't cared enough," Yun Qingyi continued, self-reproach threading his voice, his fingers touching his own forehead lightly. "If that's why you chose to relieve frustration this way."
"Don't blame yourself," Mi Xingzhe said hurriedly, moving closer to nudge Yun Qingyi's arm. "It's not what you think. I promise there won't be a next time. Brother Qingyi—please don't blame yourself."
Yun Qingyi's words struck Mi Xingzhe somewhere deep.
In his past life, he had wanted so badly to be protected, to be cared for—to have someone worry whether he lived or died. Back then, survival had been a struggle through cold, cramped places. Even if he reached out, no one offered shelter.
Now, Qingyi Ge's concern felt like warm water finally reaching a frozen place in him.
Mi Xingzhe's eyes reddened without warning. He lowered his head quickly to hide it.
Yun Qingyi noticed anyway.
His gaze shifted to the medical book beside him. He picked it up and held it out.
"Nian Nian. How long have you been reading this Ling Shu Classic?"
"Just… just a while," Mi Xingzhe said too quickly. "Actually, it—it…"
He tried to feign ignorance.
"Don't lie." Yun Qingyi raised his voice slightly.
Mi Xingzhe flinched. "…Fine. It's been a while."
"How long, exactly?" Yun Qingyi pressed. "Master doesn't know, but I do. This Ling Shu Classic isn't from any version in our study. Where did you get it?"
Mi Xingzhe's gaze darted away. "Uh… I picked it up on the way back when I was drunk. From the hands of a medical apprentice at the Medicine King's pharmacy."
"Picked it up?" Yun Qingyi's eyes narrowed. "You stole it."
"Ah— lower your voice." Mi Xingzhe panicked and clapped a hand over Yun Qingyi's mouth, glancing around as if Master might materialize from the walls.
"You—" Yun Qingyi's hand lifted as if he might smack him again.
Mi Xingzhe reflexively ducked and covered his head, already pleading. "Brother—I'm sorry, I'm sorry—please don't tell Master!"
"Yun Wan Nian," Yun Qingyi scolded, pushing his head lightly, anger and helplessness mixing. "You're getting more and more unruly. You even learned to steal. If there's a next time, I won't bother with you—I'll hand you straight to Master."
"I'm sorry…" Mi Xingzhe rubbed his head, guilt returning. "But that day, that immortal servant said the medicine jar was picked up by my master for testing. I was so angry… I stole his medical book."
Yun Qingyi didn't know whether to be furious or laugh. "If Master finds out you stole, you are in big trouble."
Mi Xingzhe muttered without thinking, "It's fine. When I was wandering before, I survived by stealing buns when I was hungry…"
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized.
He shut his lips abruptly.
Yun Qingyi's gaze turned stern, and Mi Xingzhe, unable to endure it, turned his head away—then peeked back at him with his eyes, trying to soften it with expression alone.
Yun Qingyi let out a small, irritated huff and tossed the book onto the table.
"Brother Qingyi..." Mi Xingzhe coaxed, slipping into familiar coquetry. "You've scolded me, you've punished me. Don't be angry anymore."
"If you do this again, I won't bother with you," Yun Qingyi said, voice flat. "I'll give you to Master."
"Okay." Mi Xingzhe raised a hand solemnly. "I promise I'll try not to—"
"Try?" Yun Qingyi lifted a brow. "Do you think I'm deaf?"
Mi Xingzhe's hand sank slowly. "…I'll definitely."
Yun Qingyi didn't argue further. He only sighed, then pulled Mi Xingzhe closer and began applying ointment to the wound on his neck with careful, controlled movements.
The cool ointment soothed the raw skin. Mi Xingzhe shut his eyes, breathing out, letting himself relax for the first time in hours.
Then he suddenly remembered something and opened his eyes, nervous again. "Brother Qingyi… Master shouldn't be able to tell there's something wrong with this book, right?"
"If Master could tell, do you think you'd be sitting here so calmly?" Yun Qingyi scolded, irritation flaring again as he pressed a little harder than necessary. "Don't move. "
"Ouch—hurt," Mi Xingzhe hissed softly. "Be gentle. That hurts."
"Don't move," Yun Qingyi said, voice firm again. "It'll be fine soon."