Dawn arrived like a thief that didn't want to wake the house.
The third-floor room was still dim, candle wicks drowned in their own wax, the last threads of incense hanging low in the air. Outside, the Pavilion's corridors were quiet—no laughter, no music, only the soft creak of wood settling as the building cooled.
Lu Ruyin slept curled on her side, the quilt pulled up to her chin as if she were trying to hide from the last remnant of winter inside her bones. Her hair spilled across the pillow like ink, and her lashes rested against cheeks still faintly flushed from the night before.
Shen Yan sat cross-legged beside the bed.
Lotus position. Straight spine. Hands on knees. Eyes half-lidded.
He could feel it again.
Low in his abdomen, near the root of his cock, the old knot that had lived there like a curse was no longer a solid wall. It was still tight, still ugly, but it had… seams now. Cracks.
He drew a slow breath and guided it down.
Qi responded.
Not elegantly. Not like it had in his first life, when he could gather and condense like breathing, when the world's energy felt obedient as water pouring into a cup.
Here, it was like coaxing a stray dog.
It came in thin threads, hesitant, and pooled in his lower meridian with a warm heaviness that made his skin prickle. Shen Yan held it, focused, trying to stabilize the flow.
For three breaths, it stayed.
On the fourth, it slipped—leaking away like sand through fingers.
His brows furrowed. He tried again.
Gather.
Pool.
Hold.
It wavered and broke, scattering before he could bind it properly.
Shen Yan exhaled through his nose, half amused, half bitter.
"Outer realm body," he murmured to himself, voice barely louder than the candle's ghost. "And I'm struggling to keep a mouthful of qi."
In his past life, "outer realm" was where children started—where you built foundation and laughed at your own clumsiness. He'd once stood in grand realms that made mountains feel small, had once looked at cultivators groveling for scraps and felt only impatience.
Now his meridians were broken lines on a map. Middle and upper channels still felt like shattered bridges—no flow, no continuity, only faint aches when he pushed too hard.
And yet…
His lower meridian had moved.
Sex with Ruyin had loosened the knot.
Shen Yan's eyes slid to the sleeping girl.
He didn't let his gaze turn greedy. Greed ruined good things.
He studied her the way he studied battlefields: breath, color, tiny movements. Even asleep, her body carried chill, but it wasn't the sharp, murderous cold of last night. It was thinner. Less absolute.
He could feel faint warmth radiating from her belly now—new, fragile, like a coal just lit.
So the remedy was working.
Or something adjacent to it was.
Maybe it was just yang essence against yin poison, simple as a physician's notes. Maybe it was the unique constitution of a sect disciple. Maybe it was something else—some strange resonance between broken meridians and the act of sharing breath and heat.
He would figure it out.
Later.
For now, he watched her sleep and guarded the quiet like it was treasure.
Ruyin stirred.
A faint sound escaped her—half sigh, half sleepy hum. Her eyelids fluttered as if she were swimming up from deep water. She shifted, the quilt sliding down her shoulder.
And then, as if the world decided to be cruelly playful, the blanket slipped further.
Her upper body was revealed in a soft spill of pale skin and full breasts, nipples still faintly flushed. For a heartbeat, she remained asleep, face relaxed, oblivious to the way her body lay open to morning.
Shen Yan's gaze didn't jump away.
He also didn't pounce.
He simply watched, because watching wasn't a sin, and because this was his bed now too.
Ruyin's eyes opened.
She blinked at him, slow, heavy-lidded. "Shen… Yan…" she murmured, voice hoarse and sweet with sleep.
Then her awareness caught up.
Her gaze dropped.
She saw the quilt. Saw her bare chest. Saw his eyes.
Her face turned bright red in an instant.
She yanked the blanket up with both hands, nearly strangling herself with it. "I—!" she squeaked, then swallowed hard, mortified.
Shen Yan's mouth twitched. "Good morning," he said calmly, as if she hadn't just tried to bury herself alive.
Ruyin's ears were red too. "You— you were looking," she accused weakly.
"I have eyes," Shen Yan replied, innocent. "Should I close them permanently?"
"That's not—"
She fumbled for words, then, as if the morning wanted to complete its humiliation, her head tilted down again.
Her eyes landed lower.
On his lap.
On the unmistakable hardness pressing against the thin sheet.
Ruyin froze.
Her pupils widened.
The blanket lifted another inch as she tried to hide behind it again, as if fabric could erase the fact that his cock was hard and very much awake.
Shen Yan leaned forward and gently caught the edge of the quilt. "Don't," he said, voice amused. "If you keep pulling it like that, you'll suffocate."
"I— it—" Ruyin's voice broke into a tiny squeak. She turned her face away, cheeks blazing. "Why is it… like that?"
Shen Yan tilted his head. "You mean why does it still like you?"
Ruyin's breath hitched. "Shen Yan!"
He laughed softly and tugged the blanket down just enough to see her face again. Not her body—her expression.
Ruyin glared at him with all the fury a shy girl could muster, which was to say: she looked like she wanted to stab him but only owned a pillow.
Shen Yan brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Relax," he murmured. "Morning happens."
Ruyin swallowed. "It's embarrassing."
"Only because you're thinking too hard," he said. "Come here."
He pulled her gently into his lap, careful of her soreness. She hissed faintly as her hips shifted.
"Ah—" Her face pinched. "My waist…"
Shen Yan immediately loosened his grip and adjusted her position, supporting her lower back with one hand. "Does it hurt badly?"
"It's not bad," she whispered, then blushed again at the implication of what "not bad" meant. "Just… sore."
Shen Yan kissed her forehead. "First time. You'll be sore."
Ruyin's eyes flicked up, shy. "You say it like it's nothing."
"In my life," Shen Yan said, voice low and honest, "pain is never nothing. But soreness like this… it fades."
She nodded slowly, letting herself lean against him. Her breasts pressed his chest through the blanket, and the contact made her stiffen again—then soften, because she couldn't stay tense forever without shaking.
Shen Yan kissed her lips.
Ruyin kissed back, tentative at first, then deeper, remembering what he tasted like. Her hand slid to his shoulder, fingers curling, and she made a soft sound when she felt his cock still hard beneath her.
She pulled back, flustered. "It's… still…"
Shen Yan's eyes smiled. "Yes."
Ruyin's cheeks burned. "Does it— does it hurt?"
Shen Yan chuckled. "No."
She stared, horrified. "Then why—"
"Because I woke up with you," Shen Yan said simply, and kissed her again.
That stole her question.
Ruyin's lips parted, and her body melted a little more into him. She shifted on his lap without thinking, seeking comfort—
—and immediately winced as the movement tugged at her tender flesh.
"Ah…!" she whispered.
Shen Yan tightened his arms around her, steadying. "Slow," he murmured. "Don't chase the pleasure yet. Let your body catch up."
Ruyin hid her face against his neck, mortified. "I wasn't—"
"You were," Shen Yan said softly, amused. "It's fine."
Ruyin's voice came muffled. "You're shameless."
"I'm experienced," he corrected. Then he tilted her chin up with two fingers. "Did you enjoy it last night?"
Ruyin's eyes widened as if he'd asked her to recite forbidden scripture.
She tried to look away. Shen Yan's hand stayed gentle but firm.
"Tell me," he said, low and warm.
Ruyin swallowed. "Yes," she whispered. Then, quieter, as if the word itself was too loud: "I… enjoyed it."
Shen Yan kissed her once, slow and tender, like a reward. "Good."
Ruyin's lashes fluttered, and she breathed out a shaky sigh that held more relief than shame.
A knock sounded at the door.
Ruyin jolted like a startled deer, grabbing the quilt. Shen Yan didn't flinch. He only called, "Yes?"
A maid's voice answered, polite and distant. "Young Master Shen, would you like your bath prepared?"
Shen Yan glanced at Ruyin. Her eyes were wide, cheeks still pink.
He smiled. "Yes."
The door slid open.
Two maids entered carrying a large wooden tub between them, and another followed with kettles of steaming water. They kept their eyes lowered in practiced modesty—until Shen Yan stood.
Naked.
Tall, broad-shouldered, toned from stubborn training, and very much male in a way that didn't match the usual patrons they served. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, still half-hard from waking with a warm body in his arms.
The maids' eyes flicked up on instinct.
Then both immediately looked away so fast it was almost comical.
Their cheeks went bright red.
One nearly stumbled.
"Set it there," Shen Yan said calmly, as if he hadn't just ruined their morning composure.
"Yes, Young Master," the first maid squeaked.
They poured warm water into the tub, steam billowing up. The room filled with the clean scent of heated wood and faint herbs.
Shen Yan lifted Ruyin easily again—she yelped softly, clutching his shoulder—and carried her toward the tub.
The maids tried very hard to focus on the tub and not the fact that he was carrying a naked woman while naked himself.
They finished quickly, bowed, and retreated with faces still red.
As the door slid closed, Ruyin buried her face against Shen Yan's chest. "They saw," she whispered.
Shen Yan stepped into the tub and sat back against the curved wood, water rising over his thighs. "They work in a brothel," he said. "They've seen."
"But—" Ruyin's voice caught. "They looked."
Shen Yan laughed softly. "Because they're still human."
He settled Ruyin onto his lap in the bath, positioning her carefully so her sore hips were supported. Warm water embraced her skin. Steam curled around them, softening edges.
Ruyin exhaled.
For the first time, her shoulders dropped fully.
She leaned back into him, letting the warmth soak into her bones. Her head rested against his shoulder; her hair floated slightly in the water like dark weeds.
Shen Yan's hands slid over her belly under the water, gentle pressure. "Better?" he asked.
Ruyin nodded, eyes half-closed. "Warm," she murmured, as if it was a miracle word.
Shen Yan's gaze moved to her face. "Your body feels less cold," he said quietly. "The yin poison… it's reduced."
Ruyin froze.
Her eyes snapped open. "You—" she stammered. "You know?"
Shen Yan didn't answer immediately. He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "Should I pretend I don't?"
Ruyin's face went pale beneath her blush. "I'm sorry," she whispered quickly. "I didn't mean to… to deceive you. I—"
Shen Yan cut her off with a kiss on the cheek. "Stop apologizing," he murmured. "If I cared about being deceived, I wouldn't be alive."
Ruyin bit her lip. "How did you know?"
Shen Yan hummed as if considering, then let his hands slide up her ribs under the water—warm touch, calm touch. "Because you were freezing like a winter river," he said lightly. "Because your breath was mist. Because you looked like you were holding pain in your teeth."
Ruyin looked down, embarrassed. "I tried to hide it."
"You failed," Shen Yan said, teasing. Then he kissed her jaw. "But I'm grateful you failed."
Ruyin blinked, confused. "Grateful?"
Shen Yan's voice turned shamelessly playful. "Without your poison, how would I spend the night with such a pretty girl?"
Ruyin's eyes widened in outrage, then her cheeks burned again. "You—!"
She tried to slap his chest, but the water made the movement slow and weak. Shen Yan caught her wrist and kissed her knuckles.
Ruyin pouted, lip jutting slightly. It was an unbecoming expression for a sect disciple and it made her look younger.
"You're avoiding the question," she accused.
"I'm bathing," Shen Yan replied. "Avoiding effort is part of it."
Ruyin narrowed her eyes. Then, softer: "I don't regret it," she said quietly.
Shen Yan stilled.
Ruyin looked away, voice small but steady. "I… enjoyed being with you. Even if it was for medicine. I didn't feel… used."
Shen Yan's throat tightened. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Good," he murmured. "Because you weren't."
Another knock came.
Before Shen Yan could speak, the door slid open without waiting.
Hao Lianhua stepped in as if she owned the room—and in a way, she did.
She took one look at the steaming tub, Shen Yan behind it with Ruyin on his lap, both naked, water beading on skin—
—and she didn't even blink.
Instead, she walked to the small table and sat down gracefully, crossing her legs. "Oh," she said brightly. "So this is how it is."
Ruyin's entire face went crimson.
She tried to sink lower into the water like a rock.
Shen Yan sighed. "Sister Lianhua, do you knock out of habit or theater?"
Lianhua propped her cheek on her hand, eyes sparkling. "I knocked," she said. "You said yes. Therefore, this is your fault."
Shen Yan looked at her flatly. "You're shameless too."
Lianhua smiled like a cat. "Learned from you."
Her gaze slid to Ruyin. "Sister Ruyin," she said sweetly, "did Young Master Shen bully you last night?"
Ruyin's mouth opened. No sound came out.
Lianhua leaned forward, delighted. "Oh? Speechless? He truly bullied you."
Ruyin spluttered, mortified. "N-no! That's not—"
Lianhua's eyes widened innocently. "So you bullied him?"
Ruyin made a broken sound and tried to hide her face against Shen Yan's shoulder.
Shen Yan tightened his arms around her protectively. "Stop teasing her," he said, voice calm but edged.
Lianhua pouted theatrically. "I'm teasing because I'm happy. She looks… alive."
The room quieted for half a beat.
Ruyin peeked up, startled, and Shen Yan felt her body relax a fraction at the sincerity beneath Lianhua's mischief.
Then Lianhua ruined the tenderness with a grin. "Still," she continued, "Young Master Shen—be honest. How many times did you make her cry?"
Ruyin made a squeak of outrage, cheeks blazing. "Sister Lianhua!"
Shen Yan's eyes narrowed. "If you keep talking, I'll dunk you in the tub."
Lianhua laughed, delighted by the threat. "Do it. I'll scream and the whole third floor will learn what you're doing."
Ruyin's blush turned nuclear.
Shen Yan groaned. "You're evil."
"Helpful," Lianhua corrected again, leaning back. "Now, Sister Ruyin—tell me. Was he good?"
Ruyin froze.
Her eyes darted between them like a trapped rabbit.
Shen Yan felt her swallow.
Then, in a tiny voice that sounded like it had been squeezed out of her pride, she said, "He… was good."
Lianhua clapped her hands once, delighted. "Ha! I knew it."
Ruyin buried her face again, mortified beyond rescue.
Shen Yan kissed her hair. "Enough," he murmured, soothing.
After a few more breaths, Shen Yan stood in the tub, water streaming down his body. He lifted Ruyin out carefully, supporting her waist. She winced faintly, legs stiff.
He set her on a chair near the tub, then grabbed a towel and began to dry her.
Ruyin reached for the towel with shaky hands. "I can—"
Shen Yan kissed her, short and firm, stealing the protest. "Relax," he murmured against her lips. "It's your first time. Let me take care of you."
Ruyin's eyes fluttered. She let her hands fall, surrendering with a shy nod.
Shen Yan dried her gently—shoulders, arms, stomach, thighs—avoiding any roughness, careful near her tender center. When he reached her hair, he used the towel to squeeze out water softly, then combed his fingers through, patient.
Lianhua watched from the table, chin in hand, and sighed like a woman watching someone eat her favorite dish.
"So jealous," she complained lazily. "No one dries my hair with that much devotion."
Ruyin's cheeks reddened again, as if blushing had become her only reliable technique.
Shen Yan glanced at Lianhua. "You'd complain the whole time."
"I would enjoy it," Lianhua corrected.
Shen Yan snorted and dried himself quickly, less careful. He dressed, then helped Ruyin into a simple robe, tying it for her when her fingers trembled.
By the time breakfast arrived—rice porridge, pickles, steamed buns, hot tea—the room looked almost normal again.
Almost.
They sat around the low table: Shen Yan relaxed, Ruyin quiet and glowing with a warmth she hadn't had before, Lianhua lounging like a queen bored by her own palace.
Ruyin ate slowly, every movement still careful with soreness, but her eyes no longer looked like they were fighting winter alone.
Shen Yan poured tea and spoke casually, as if discussing escort contracts. "Sister Lianhua," he said, "you and Madam Mei owe me."
Lianhua's smile faded into something sharper. "For what?" she asked softly, though she already knew.
Shen Yan glanced at Ruyin, then back. "For her condition," he said. "You brought me into it."
Lianhua's eyes softened. She nodded once, sincere now. "Yes," she said. "Thank you."
Ruyin blinked, surprised by the quiet weight of those words.
Shen Yan waved a hand as if it was nothing. "I also benefited," he added, letting his tone turn light again.
Lianhua's grin returned instantly, wicked. "Ah," she said, eyes dancing. "Not often a man gets to sleep with a beauty like Sister Ruyin."
Ruyin nearly choked on her tea.
Her cheeks went red again. "Sister—!"
Lianhua laughed. "Am I wrong?"
Ruyin opened her mouth, then closed it, helpless.
Shen Yan didn't correct the misunderstanding.
Let them think that was his benefit. It was safer. It was simpler. It kept attention on lust, not on meridians and qi and the strange looseness humming in his lower body like a secret drum.
He sipped his tea, calm.
Outside the room, the Pavilion began to wake—soft footsteps, distant murmurs, the first clink of morning trays.
Somewhere in that waking house, Madam Mei would be balancing rumors like ledgers.
And somewhere beyond these walls, Xiapi would be sharpening its gossip into knives.
Shen Yan looked at Ruyin's warmed hands wrapped around her cup, and felt the faint flow stirring low in his belly again.
Not stable yet.
Not controlled.
But real.
He smiled to himself, silent and dangerous.