I Want to Flee My Marriage

Song Yao took a bite of her fruit and strolled inside. “That's easy enough to say, but there probably aren't enough pills here. Bring me some paper and a brush to write down some herbs, and I'll refine two more batches.”

Since she was already doing it, she might as well see it through to the end.

There was still plenty of room for improvement with her Qi-Replenishing Pills, so using these thousand-odd people as test subjects wasn't a bad deal.

Having said that, she added a reminder, “Also, the side effects will last for about an hour. No matter what happens, just ignore it.”

“Yes.”

While they went to purchase the herbs, Song Yao found a high spot to sit, pulling out her paper and brush as she waited for the medicine to take effect.

This was her first time administering pills to so many people at once, so she actually had no idea if they would truly be effective against this illness.

Fortunately, the results were indeed excellent. The commoners who took the pills gradually recovered, and the rashes on their bodies faded. Only a few people had mild lingering symptoms, which should clear up with another pill or a bit of basic care.

Wen Xiao and the rest of the Shilan Sect elders and disciples let out a massive sigh of relief.

When they had first administered the medicine and the side effects kicked in, the courtyard had turned into absolute chaos.

They had thought they were completely doomed. Their palms had been drenched in sweat, and they had even begun considering the possibility of forcing the patients to throw up.

But now that the side effects had passed, the medicine had actually proven incredibly effective.

Satisfied, Song Yao stood up from the roof of the hall and tucked her paper and brush back into her sleeve. Looking down, she saw a crowd of commoners kneeling in unison, loudly shouting their thanks and kowtowing to her.

She paused slightly, then turned and leaped down from the opposite side.

Being so high-profile was definitely not her intention.

...

She waited in the elixir room for quite a while, but the person who eventually walked in was Chen Qingqiu.

Pushing the door open behind Wen Xiao, she wore a white robe embroidered with gold patterns, looking exceptionally cold and noble.

Song Yao was currently sitting in front of the furnace, playing with the fire. Holding a cattail leaf fan in her hand, her pale face was flushed rosy by the heat of the flames. She looked up and saw her. “Saintess?”

Wen Xiao said in surprise, “You two know each other?”

Song Yao smiled and nodded. “Of course. We're very close, aren't we, Saintess Sister?”

Chen Qingqiu's face instantly flushed red. She cleared her throat and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“It's wonderful that you know each other then.”

Wen Xiao sighed softly. “The surrounding areas have all been flooded, and everyone is struggling to survive, so we couldn't buy many herbs. Fortunately, the Saintess was nearby. When she heard we were in trouble, she rushed over to help and brought a lot of supplies with her.”

She stole a glance at Chen Qingqiu's expression. Remembering the rumors that the Saintess disliked speaking to strangers, she quickly cupped her hands. “In that case, I won't disturb you two. If you need anything, just let the people outside know, and we will do our absolute best to accommodate you.”

With that, she tactfully withdrew, closing the door behind her.

The elixir room fell quiet, save for the crackling of the furnace fire and the whooshing of the fan.

Song Yao glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. Seeing her clutching her hands, she couldn't resist teasing her, “Not going to say a single word to me? What's wrong, Saintess Sister? Are we not close? Are you shy being around me too?”

Chen Qingqiu had just about summoned enough courage to speak, but when she looked up and saw Song Yao's smiling eyes and her teasing, playful demeanor, her cheeks burned even hotter.

She took a deep breath, and only after a long moment did she manage to force herself to look calm. “No, I'm not... If you need any more herbs, I have them here.”

“Let me take a look.”

“Okay.”

Song Yao stood up and walked over to Chen Qingqiu's side to examine the herbs. The hand waving the cattail fan paused slightly.

She smelled of blood.

It was very faint.

She had likely tried to mask it.

Looking at her face again, she was slightly pale.

Was she injured?

Song Yao tilted her fan, using the handle to hook Chen Qingqiu's sleeve.

She saw that the bandage on her arm was sloppily wrapped, barely covering the wound, with faint traces of dark, purplish-black blood seeping through.

Startled, Chen Qingqiu jerked her wrist back, hiding the wound once more. Her expression cooled, and a trace of wariness entered her gaze as she looked at Song Yao.

Song Yao could guess more or less what had happened.

Although Chen Qingqiu was the Saintess of the Beiyao Sect, in private, she was more like an assassin raised by Sect Master Feng Qing.

She did whatever Feng Qing ordered her to do, and a single slip-up would result in severe punishment.

It was precisely because she grew up under such inhumane, crushing pressure that she had developed this personality, afraid of interacting with others.

Her presence here alone on the edge of the Tianshu Realm was likely because she was carrying out a task for Feng Qing.

As for why she had come to the Shilan Sect, that remained unknown.

Song Yao couldn't help but feel a pang of pity. She tossed a porcelain bottle to her and grumbled as she carried the needed herbs back to the furnace. “Why are you looking at me like that? It's not like I'm going to do anything to you. This was given to me by my master. Take it and heal your wounds.”

After muttering this, she threw the herbs into the furnace and added, “But you have to pay for it. I've already lost too much today.”

Catching the porcelain bottle off guard, Chen Qingqiu's eyelashes fluttered. The coldness in her eyes faded, replaced by a complex, indescribable emotion.

Just as she wanted to say something, the girl in front of her had already begun refining the pills.

She had no choice but to step aside, finding a corner to unwrap the sloppy bandage on her arm and reapply her medicine.

As she tended to her wounds, her gaze couldn't help but drift toward the opposite side.

The girl's face flickered in the firelight, her exceptionally cold and beautiful features appearing somewhat surreal under the glow.

Once again, a sense of familiarity washed over her.

She had heard that this young girl's soul was incomplete and her health was poor, yet just like that person, she handled everything with effortless ease.

Even though she was the senior and her cultivation was vastly superior, the girl always carried herself with that carefree, lazy attitude, easily swaying her emotions.

A sharp, intense pain radiated from her arm. As the heat washed over her face, she was suddenly thrown into a daze, recalling a time when she had failed an assassination mission and was hunted down, forced to flee in embarrassment into a private room of a brothel to hide.

That person had happened to be drinking and enjoying themselves there. Pushing the door open with an elegant grace, they had squatted before her with their chin resting in their hands, smiling warmly. “How is it that every time we meet, you're injured?”

“I can help you, but you have to treat me to wine afterward. Deal?”

“The sect doesn't allow drinking? Who cares what the sect allows? I allow it, and that's enough.”

That person had always been rebellious. After helping her evade her pursuers and healing her wounds, they had used the guise of being her savior to drag her out for drinks. Not only that, but they had insisted on taking her boating on the lake and visiting every pleasure house and red-light district.

Wherever there were the most people, that was where they would drag her.

That was the first time she had ever done such things.

It was also the first time she had ever violated the various rules her master had set for her.

For the first time in her twenty-plus years of life, she had an experience outside of cultivation and killing.

The peach blossom wine was intoxicating. Forced to drink until her vision blurred, her mind had been filled with the image of that person's smiling eyes and free-spirited demeanor.

Now, hazily enveloped by the heat of the furnace, the figure of Lin Mu in front of her gradually overlapped with that person's.

Driven by some strange impulse, she spoke, “Junior Sister Lin.”

Song Yao, having finished refining five batches of medicine and throwing the ingredients for the sixth into the furnace, turned her head slightly dazed. “What is it?”

Chen Qingqiu said, “I want to flee my marriage.”

Song Yao: “?”