He wanted to say it wasn’t necessary.
But those eyes of hers were looking at him, frighteningly bright.
The words reached his lips, but he suddenly couldn’t speak them.
Dusk settled in, and the accumulated snow shimmered with a ghostly blue light. She walked by his side, neither too close nor too far, exactly the distance of one body-width.
They were silent the whole way.
Reaching the bedroom door, Shen Mo stopped.
“We’re here,” he said. “You should head back.”
She nodded, but she didn’t leave.
“Master’s Husband,” she suddenly spoke.
“Yes?”
“The matter of that night,” she said, “this disciple will not speak of it to anyone.”
He was stunned.
She looked into his eyes and spoke earnestly, “I know that was something you were unwilling to do. I won’t tell anyone, and the Peak Master won’t find out either.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“It’s just — ” she paused, then suddenly let out a small smile. “You should be more careful from now on. Lady Yunhe is not someone who gives up easily.”
With that, she turned and left.
Shen Mo stood at the door, watching her silhouette disappear into the night.
It began to snow again. Fine and dense, it fell upon his shoulders and settled in his hair.
He suddenly remembered the two clusters of dark fire in her eyes when she leaned toward him in the storehouse that night. And her words just now — “Lady Yunhe is not someone who gives up easily.”
She had a smile on her face when she said that. But what was hidden beneath that smile?
He didn’t know. He only knew that from now on, every night on Jiaoyue Peak, he would have to sleep with his eyes open.
‘Because those two clusters of spectral fire are drawing closer and closer to me,’ he realized. ‘And I have nowhere to run.’
……
After Lady Yunhe left, Jiaoyue Peak returned to its usual tranquility. Or rather, a surface-level tranquility.
Shen Mo still woke up at 5:00 AM every day. He would first check the ledgers, then patrol the various courtyards, and finally handle the peak’s general affairs.
Chao’er still came every day to pay her respects, bowing and speaking with perfect etiquette. Only, when her eyes landed on him, they were still frighteningly bright.
Neither of them mentioned the events of that night again. It was like a tacit understanding.
As the twelfth lunar month arrived, the weather grew even colder. Snow half a foot deep had accumulated in the Spirit Beast Garden of Jiaoyue Peak.
When Shen Mo stepped through the snow, the spirit beasts inside were huddling by the shed doors, peering out.
Several Snow-fleece Rabbits pricked up their ears, their round bodies squeezed into a ball.
The pair of Blue-feathered Pheasants flapped their wings, leaving a trail of messy footprints in the snow.
In the corner, the Iron-backed Pig was sleeping soundly, its snoring causing the snow on the roof to fall in flurries.
“Lord, you’ve come.” Manager Zheng, who guarded the Spirit Beast Garden, came to greet him and took the food box from his hand. “In such cold weather, why did you come in person?”
Old Zheng was a white-haired old man who had been at the peak for nearly 30 years.
Shen Mo didn’t answer. He simply walked to the shed, crouched down, and reached out to pat the head of the nearest Snow-fleece Rabbit.
The rabbit flinched for a moment but then calmed down, allowing his palm to rest on its head.
He closed his eyes.
Spiritual energy slowly seeped from his palm, flowing through the rabbit’s body like a stream of warm spring water.
He could feel the tiny hidden injuries within its body — the blockages caused by the lack of fodder in winter, the damp cold from the crowded shed, and several other minor issues.
The spiritual energy flowed through those areas, smoothing them out bit by bit.
A moment later, he opened his eyes.
The rabbit looked much more energetic. It pricked its ears and rubbed against his palm before turning and hopping away.
Shen Mo reached out to touch the next one. One after another.
Snow-fleece Rabbits, Blue-feathered Pheasants, Iron-backed Pigs, Long-eared Civets, Red-striped Sheep… He touched every one of the dozens of spirit beasts in the shed.
This was no ordinary stroking. It was his talent.
Shortly after marrying into Jiaoyue Peak 7 years ago, he had accidentally discovered that he could make injured spirit beasts heal faster.
As he slowly explored this ability, he found it wasn’t just healing — he could also use his spiritual energy to improve their quality.
A common chicken, if nurtured with heart and soul for a few months, had a chance to evolve into a Spirit Chicken.
With further nurturing, a Spirit Chicken could become a Golden-feathered Chicken. And if nurtured even further, he heard they could even evolve into even rarer species.
After Su Wan’er found out, she simply said, “It’s somewhat useful,” and handed him the management of the Spirit Beast Garden.
Thus, his chores increased by one. He came to the Spirit Beast Garden two or three times a month to “nourish” these creatures.
Once they were fully grown, whether they were sold or slaughtered, they could fetch a price three or four times higher than usual.
The fur of the Snow-fleece Rabbits could be traded for Spirit Stones, the tail feathers of the Blue-feathered Pheasants could be used in medicine, and when Iron-backed Pig meat was served, even visiting cultivators from other peaks would offer praise.
Shen Mo never cared about any of that.
He simply liked watching them get better under his care. He liked seeing the sickly little things become lively again.
He liked watching the newborns open their eyes and stumble toward his palm.
In this world, only these wordless creatures were truly happy to see him arrive.
“Lord, please take a rest.” Old Zheng watched from the side with concern. “It’s already been over 1 hour. Your complexion…”
“Almost finished.” Shen Mo didn’t look up, reaching for the next one.
Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. The inner robe on his back was soaked, sticking to him with a chilly dampness.
His spiritual energy was more than half depleted; his temples began to throb, and his vision occasionally went dark.
There were only the last three.
He gritted his teeth and pressed his hand against the head of a Red-striped Sheep.
Spiritual energy surged out again, finer and weaker than before, like a stream that was about to run dry.
The Red-striped Sheep submissively lowered its head, letting him stroke its back and its dry, frizzy winter coat.
Under his palm, its fur gradually took on a soft luster, as if washed by moonlight.
Done.
Shen Mo stood up, but suddenly, his vision went black. His footing turned weak, and he stumbled to the side.
“Lord!”
Manager Zheng let out a cry of alarm, but he was too far away to reach him.
A hand suddenly reached out from the side, steadily catching him by the waist. That hand was very hot. Hot like a ball of fire.
Shen Mo looked down and saw a hand resting against his waist — the fingers were long, the joints well-defined, and a moon-white sleeve brushed against his robes.
“Be careful, Master’s Husband.”
The voice sounded in his ear.
Chao’er.
He didn’t know when she had come in. She stood right beside him, one hand supporting him and the other behind her back.
She was very close, so close he could smell her scent. It wasn’t a common incense, but a faint, clean scent of greenery, somewhat like the fragrance from the herb garden on the back mountain.
“Why are you here?” he asked. His voice was raspier than he had expected.
“I came to collect Spirit Chickens,” she said, her gaze landing on his face.
“The peak needs to prepare Inedia Pills for the Foundation Building Trial, and spirit eggs are required for the medicine. The deacon senior brother told me to come and get them.”
As she spoke, her hand was still supporting his waist. She didn’t let go.
“I see,” Shen Mo said. “Let go now.”
She didn’t let go. Instead, she tightened her grip slightly, pulling him a bit closer to her.
“You don’t look well, Master’s Husband,” she said, looking down at him. ‘When did she grow so tall?’ he wondered.
He remembered that last year she only reached his chin. Now, standing together, they were almost at eye level. “Let me take you back to rest.”
“No need.” He raised his hand, intending to push her away.
But having just exhausted his spiritual energy, his body was weak. That push landed on her shoulder with the weight of a feather, more like a tickle.
She let out a small laugh. The smile was faint, like a ripple on the water’s surface that vanished in an instant.
But Shen Mo saw it clearly. He saw the two clusters of spectral fire in her eyes ignite once more.
“Chao’er,” he lowered his voice. “Let go.”
“What is Shen Mo afraid of?” she asked, her voice also low, audible only to him. “I am merely supporting my Master’s Husband. If you fall, who will manage the affairs of the peak?”
Her fingers moved. Through the fabric of his clothes, she gave him a light brush. It was very light, as if it were an accidental touch.
But Shen Mo knew it wasn’t.