Xuantian Continent, Eastern Domain, Qingyun City.
In a secluded corner of the Lin family's rear courtyard stood a small, neglected compound. An ancient plum tree leaned against a crumbling wall, its gnarled branches bare now that the flowering season had passed. Only a few withered leaves clung stubbornly, rustling in the autumn breeze.
Lin Chen sat cross-legged on a stone bench, eyes closed, breathing slow and measured. The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the plum branches, casting dappled shadows across his face—sharp and handsome, yet pale with a lingering frailty.
At sixteen, the young man was tall and lean, but carried the air of someone who had endured long illness. For three years he had sat like this in this quiet courtyard, day after day.
To outsiders, he was the young master of the Lin family—and a complete waste. Three years ago, a sudden accident had severed his meridians, turning the city's acknowledged genius into a cripple overnight. Admirers scattered, mockers swarmed. The Lin family's standing crumbled; old allies distanced themselves, while enemies circled like vultures. The Zhao family, once eager to bind themselves through marriage, now itched to tear up the old betrothal contract.
Lin Chen opened his eyes and gazed at a single yellowed plum leaf resting in his palm.
In his previous life, he had been Earth's most feared special forces king, codename "Dragon Emperor." He lived on the edge of a blade, decisive and ruthless, until the final mission—betrayed by the comrade he trusted most, he fell from a cliff into darkness.
When he awoke again, he inhabited the body of this boy who shared his name.
In the beginning, he discovered that although the meridians were shattered, a faint strand of golden energy lingered deep within—like a dormant dragon soul, waiting for its moment. For three years he had kept his silence, secretly nourishing those meridians with forbidden techniques learned in his military days. He had already restored seventy percent of his strength.
He was in no hurry to reveal himself.
Qingyun City's waters ran deep. A premature display of power would only invite greater danger. More than that, he wanted to see clearly who in this world was sincere and who was false.
Especially her—Su Qingyao.
The name alone warmed something inside his chest.
They had grown up together. She was the eldest miss of the Lin family, born with the rare Ice Spirit Sacred Body, her talent dazzling. He had been the young master, equally brilliant. As children they often played beneath this very plum tree. She would stretch on tiptoe for the highest blossoms, never quite reaching, and he would boost her up or climb to pick them for her. Her smile then was like spring snow melting under sunlight—bright, soft, and fleeting.
Later, when he became "crippled," she withdrew. Outwardly distant, yet for three whole years she quietly brought spirit herbs and fruits. In the dead of night, he would feign sleep and hear soft footsteps outside his window, followed by the gentle placement of a warm bowl of soup or a vial of pills on the sill.
He knew she feared pressure from the family to marry elsewhere, feared dragging him down, feared most of all that he might give up on himself.
Lin Chen closed his fist around the plum leaf and let out a quiet breath.
"Qingyao, you've guarded me for three years. Now it's my turn."
The sun dipped below the horizon; twilight settled over the courtyard.
With a faint creak, the gate opened.
A girl in white stepped inside carrying a food basket, head slightly lowered. Moonlight spilled over her like frost—hair cascading like dark silk, skin luminous as fresh snow, features cool and distant as an untouched lotus blooming on ice.
Su Qingyao.
Seeing Lin Chen seated there, she paused. "You're… lost in thought again."
Lin Chen turned to her, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "Waiting for you."
A touch of pink rose to her cheeks. She pretended not to hear and set the basket on the stone table. "Fresh spirit ginseng soup from the kitchens. I added some Ice Spirit Grass—it should help your meridians."
She lifted the lid; warm steam rose, carrying the faint, comforting scent of herbs.
Lin Chen did not move, only watched her. "Qingyao, these three years… you didn't have to do this."
She stirred the soup with a spoon, voice soft as the breeze. "I wanted to. It's just… an extra bowl from the kitchen, nothing more."
Her lies were always so clumsy.
Lin Chen stood and walked toward her. They were close now; he could smell the cool, clean fragrance of Ice Spirit that clung to her hair.
"Qingyao, look at me."
She hesitated, then raised her eyes. Beneath the long lashes, faint shadows of sleepless nights lingered.
Lin Chen's heart ached as though pricked by a needle. He reached out and gently brushed a fallen leaf from her shoulder. "You've grown thinner."
She shook her head and tried to step back, only to meet the trunk of the plum tree.
"Lin Chen, don't…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The Zhao family has already started spreading word. Tomorrow they may come formally to break the engagement."
Lin Chen's gaze darkened. "Break the engagement?"
Su Qingyao bit her lip. "Zhao Ling'er has broken through to the Innate realm. The Zhao family is strong now. Father… may not be able to stop them."
She paused, then added quietly, "Actually, breaking it might be for the best. You… wouldn't have to carry this burden anymore."
Lin Chen studied her. "Qingyao, do you want me to let it go?"
She was silent for a long time before answering, almost inaudible: "I don't want you to be humiliated."
She didn't say "I don't care" or "I'll wait forever." But Lin Chen understood—that was her answer.
For three years she had protected him with actions, never weighing him down with promises.
Lin Chen smiled, a real one this time, and gently took her wrist. Her hand was cool, fingers slender as jade.
"Qingyao, leave tomorrow to me."
She looked up, startled. "What are you going to do?"
He didn't answer directly, only drew her a fraction closer and said softly, "Trust me, all right?"
Su Qingyao met his eyes. In them she saw the familiar tenderness, but also something new—a deep, steady sharpness she had never noticed before.
Her heartbeat quickened, out of rhythm. She nodded. "All right."
The moon climbed higher; shadows of plum branches lay heavy across the ground.
They stood like that beneath the old tree, saying nothing more.
In the distance, lights flickered throughout the Lin estate. Tomorrow the Zhao family would come, and the formal humiliation of the broken engagement would unfold.
But Lin Chen knew that tomorrow would also mark the first faint release of the dragon's breath he had held dormant for three years.
Deep within him, the supreme dragon soul stirred, letting out a low, resonant hum.
Everything was only just beginning.
(Chapter 1 End)
润色说明:翻译时保持了原版的慢节奏,细腻环境描写,内心独白和情感细节,用更文学化的英文表达（比如比喻,感官描述）,让它读起来像本土玄幻/仙侠英文小说（类似Webnovel上的cultivation风格）.如果想再改名字,调整某段描写,或继续第二章的英文版,直接说!Xuantian Continent, Eastern Domain, Qingyun City.
In a secluded corner of the Lin family's rear courtyard stood a small, neglected compound. An ancient plum tree leaned against a crumbling wall, its gnarled branches bare now that the flowering season had passed. Only a few withered leaves clung stubbornly, rustling in the autumn breeze.
Lin Chen sat cross-legged on a stone bench, eyes closed, breathing slow and measured. The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the plum branches, casting dappled shadows across his face—sharp and handsome, yet pale with a lingering frailty.
At sixteen, the young man was tall and lean, but carried the air of someone who had endured long illness. For three years he had sat like this in this quiet courtyard, day after day.
To outsiders, he was the young master of the Lin family—and a complete waste. Three years ago, a sudden accident had severed his meridians, turning the city's acknowledged genius into a cripple overnight. Admirers scattered, mockers swarmed. The Lin family's standing crumbled; old allies distanced themselves, while enemies circled like vultures. The Zhao family, once eager to bind themselves through marriage, now itched to tear up the old betrothal contract.
Lin Chen opened his eyes and gazed at a single yellowed plum leaf resting in his palm.
In his previous life, he had been Earth's most feared special forces king, codename "Dragon Emperor." He lived on the edge of a blade, decisive and ruthless, until the final mission—betrayed by the comrade he trusted most, he fell from a cliff into darkness.
When he awoke again, he inhabited the body of this boy who shared his name.
In the beginning, he discovered that although the meridians were shattered, a faint strand of golden energy lingered deep within—like a dormant dragon soul, waiting for its moment. For three years he had kept his silence, secretly nourishing those meridians with forbidden techniques learned in his military days. He had already restored seventy percent of his strength.
He was in no hurry to reveal himself.
Qingyun City's waters ran deep. A premature display of power would only invite greater danger. More than that, he wanted to see clearly who in this world was sincere and who was false.
Especially her—Su Qingyao.
The name alone warmed something inside his chest.
They had grown up together. She was the eldest miss of the Lin family, born with the rare Ice Spirit Sacred Body, her talent dazzling. He had been the young master, equally brilliant. As children they often played beneath this very plum tree. She would stretch on tiptoe for the highest blossoms, never quite reaching, and he would boost her up or climb to pick them for her. Her smile then was like spring snow melting under sunlight—bright, soft, and fleeting.
Later, when he became "crippled," she withdrew. Outwardly distant, yet for three whole years she quietly brought spirit herbs and fruits. In the dead of night, he would feign sleep and hear soft footsteps outside his window, followed by the gentle placement of a warm bowl of soup or a vial of pills on the sill.
He knew she feared pressure from the family to marry elsewhere, feared dragging him down, feared most of all that he might give up on himself.
Lin Chen closed his fist around the plum leaf and let out a quiet breath.
"Qingyao, you've guarded me for three years. Now it's my turn."
The sun dipped below the horizon; twilight settled over the courtyard.
With a faint creak, the gate opened.
A girl in white stepped inside carrying a food basket, head slightly lowered. Moonlight spilled over her like frost—hair cascading like dark silk, skin luminous as fresh snow, features cool and distant as an untouched lotus blooming on ice.
Su Qingyao.
Seeing Lin Chen seated there, she paused. "You're… lost in thought again."
Lin Chen turned to her, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "Waiting for you."
A touch of pink rose to her cheeks. She pretended not to hear and set the basket on the stone table. "Fresh spirit ginseng soup from the kitchens. I added some Ice Spirit Grass—it should help your meridians."
She lifted the lid; warm steam rose, carrying the faint, comforting scent of herbs.
Lin Chen did not move, only watched her. "Qingyao, these three years… you didn't have to do this."
She stirred the soup with a spoon, voice soft as the breeze. "I wanted to. It's just… an extra bowl from the kitchen, nothing more."
Her lies were always so clumsy.
Lin Chen stood and walked toward her. They were close now; he could smell the cool, clean fragrance of Ice Spirit that clung to her hair.
"Qingyao, look at me."
She hesitated, then raised her eyes. Beneath the long lashes, faint shadows of sleepless nights lingered.
Lin Chen's heart ached as though pricked by a needle. He reached out and gently brushed a fallen leaf from her shoulder. "You've grown thinner."
She shook her head and tried to step back, only to meet the trunk of the plum tree.
"Lin Chen, don't…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The Zhao family has already started spreading word. Tomorrow they may come formally to break the engagement."
Lin Chen's gaze darkened. "Break the engagement?"
Su Qingyao bit her lip. "Zhao Ling'er has broken through to the Innate realm. The Zhao family is strong now. Father… may not be able to stop them."
She paused, then added quietly, "Actually, breaking it might be for the best. You… wouldn't have to carry this burden anymore."
Lin Chen studied her. "Qingyao, do you want me to let it go?"
She was silent for a long time before answering, almost inaudible: "I don't want you to be humiliated."
She didn't say "I don't care" or "I'll wait forever." But Lin Chen understood—that was her answer.
For three years she had protected him with actions, never weighing him down with promises.
Lin Chen smiled, a real one this time, and gently took her wrist. Her hand was cool, fingers slender as jade.
"Qingyao, leave tomorrow to me."
She looked up, startled. "What are you going to do?"
He didn't answer directly, only drew her a fraction closer and said softly, "Trust me, all right?"
Su Qingyao met his eyes. In them she saw the familiar tenderness, but also something new—a deep, steady sharpness she had never noticed before.
Her heartbeat quickened, out of rhythm. She nodded. "All right."
The moon climbed higher; shadows of plum branches lay heavy across the ground.
They stood like that beneath the old tree, saying nothing more.
In the distance, lights flickered throughout the Lin estate. Tomorrow the Zhao family would come, and the formal humiliation of the broken engagement would unfold.
But Lin Chen knew that tomorrow would also mark the first faint release of the dragon's breath he had held dormant for three years.
Deep within him, the supreme dragon soul stirred, letting out a low, resonant hum.
Everything was only just beginning.