Weifeidi always carried a temperament unlike anywhere else.
Time seemed to flow more slowly here, and the air itself felt heavier—settled with stories you couldn't quite name, couldn't fully untangle.
The next morning, the light was clear and clean. The sky was a washed, vivid blue, with a few thin clouds smeared across it like casual brushstrokes. The sun hadn't turned sharp yet; it spilled gently into Chenghuiping's aging lanes, gilding the mottled walls with a pale gold edge.
Pingxintang—a traditional-style herbal hall—sat quietly in one corner of the old district.
Its black plaque with gold lettering had weathered years of wind and rain; the corners were flaking, and that only made it feel more solemn, more rooted. Two faded lanterns hung at the entrance, swaying slightly in the cool morning breeze.
The air was thick with layered medicinal fragrance: the crisp bite of sophora root, the mellow sweetness of licorice, the deep warmth of angelica… dozens of notes braided together into something oddly reassuring.
Qianye stood on the bluestone steps in front of Pingxintang. Today he wasn't wearing his usual white doctor's coat, but a simple light-colored casual outfit that made the green of his eyes look even clearer. That unruly silver cowlick at the top of his head lifted and bobbed in the breeze.
He tilted his head slightly to study the sign, his gaze carrying a colleague's scrutiny—and a faint, appreciative respect.
Beside him, Jane was still in her aggressively "harmless tourist" disguise: a strappy sundress printed with exaggerated tropical fruit, a sheer chiffon cover-up, a wide-brim hat pulled low, and retro sunglasses hiding most of her face. Only her lips showed—glossed grapefruit-coral—curved into a lazy smile.
Her posture was loose, one hand tucked casually into her skirt pocket. The other hung by her side, fingers occasionally twitching as if her body still missed the comfort of a weapon being within reach.
"Mm-nnh… mm-nnh…" a voice buzzed from inside the threshold. (Doctor Qianye… it's been a long time.)
A short, round figure shuffled out.
It was a Bangboo. Its casing had a warm wood-grain finish that blended strangely well with the old apothecary vibe. Its round eyes glowed with a soft blue, and its voice had the usual mechanical texture—yet somehow still carried something like emotion underneath.
Qianye lowered his head at the sound and smiled gently. He squatted down to meet it at eye level.
"Ah. Same here. How have you been, Kelibu?"
His voice was as soft as ever, like melted springwater.
"Mm-nnh-nnh… mm-nnh." (Not really 'good' or 'bad.' Just getting by—like life in Weifeidi. There's always a wave somewhere, but in the end it all settles back into ordinary.)
Kelibu leaned on its little cane, tapped the ground twice, then did something like a shrug—world-weary calm in a tiny round body.
Its eyes rotated, blue light focusing on the extremely noticeable woman behind Qianye, curiosity and probing caution threading into its tone.
"Mm-nnh…?" (Doctor Qianye, this person with you… is she a replacement bodyguard for Miss Xu?)
Its pitch lifted slightly—clearly surprised to see an unfamiliar face at Qianye's side.
Qianye paused, then laughed under his breath and shook his head.
"No, not that. Xu Ge Ya really wanted to come, but… this trip has special reasons, so I didn't let it follow. I had it stay with Ies—my family's Bangboo—and help out."
He hesitated, about to continue the introduction. "Actually, she's my—"
"I'm Qianye's partner."
A clear female voice cut in, amused.
Jane stepped forward half a pace to stand beside him. She lifted a finger and hooked her sunglasses down just enough to reveal those sly blue-green eyes. Her gaze slid across Qianye's faintly reddening profile for a heartbeat—then returned to Kelibu.
"This trip with Qianye counts as our honeymoon."
Her tone was effortless, like she was stating a mundane fact. The curve of her mouth was sweet—and beneath it, unmistakably possessive.
"I've been drowning in work for so long, I never properly took him out. I've felt guilty about it. So this time, we're doing a real two-person trip. Just the two of us. Making up for it."
As she spoke, she looped her arm through Qianye's without the slightest hesitation, leaning into him with intimate ease.
Qianye's body stiffened—so subtly most people wouldn't catch it. But the flush in his pale cheeks spread fast, creeping all the way up to his ears.
He opened his mouth as if to correct her.
Then Jane's "gentle" gaze landed on him—warm, but firm in a way that offered no room to wriggle.
In the end, he said nothing.
He lowered his head, lashes trembling, and let the claim stand.
Kelibu's eyes flickered twice—an electronic blink of comprehension.
"Mm-nnh!" (I see!)
Its round body bobbed like a nod, the mechanical voice taking on something like approval.
"Mm-nnh-nnh, mm-nnh!" (Congratulations, Doctor Qianye! Finding a partner for life is a great blessing!)
Then it returned neatly to familiar territory.
"Mm-nnh?" (So are you here to replenish medicinal supplies?)
Back in his own domain, Qianye seemed to loosen a fraction. He lifted his eyes, thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Thanks, but my clinic's stock is still pretty full. Probably because… I've had fewer house calls lately, so I'm using less."
A faint, hard-to-miss melancholy softened the edges of his voice.
Kelibu bobbed in understanding.
Qianye hesitated, then looked toward the busy street with a hint of searching curiosity.
"Kelibu, we came mostly to wander around. Both of us—me and… Jane—have been to Chenghuiping before, but every time was rushed. We've never actually seen it like normal tourists."
He smiled lightly, polite and cautious.
"Is there anything nearby that's worth seeing? Anything fun?"
Kelibu's eyes flickered again, like it was processing. It fell silent for a beat, then lifted an arm and pointed toward a shop not far from Pingxintang.
That storefront was nothing like the apothecary's restrained solemnity. It was livelier—almost playfully uncanny.
The signboard was carved from some dark wood: three characters—Shigui Zhai—written with a wild, serpentine brush style that radiated mystery. In the display window sat strange-looking huici crafts, throwing prismatic glints under the sun.
"Mm-nnh…" (You can try there—Shigui Zhai. They often have new and interesting things.)
Kelibu explained steadily.
(The shop owner's daughter—Fubo Youye—should be working today. Clever kid. She knows everything about Chenghuiping, big or small. She'll have plenty of suggestions.)
The instant Kelibu said "Fubo Youye," the warmth drained out of Qianye's expression.
His face froze.
The pupils of his green eyes tightened by the smallest degree. His brow drew together into a shallow frown.
Jane, still linked to his arm, felt the sudden tension immediately.
Qianye didn't answer. He didn't even look toward Shigui Zhai.
He held himself still for a few seconds, as if forcing calm into place. Then he inhaled quietly and spoke in a voice slightly lower than before—carefully, deliberately polite.
"I see… Thanks for the suggestion, Kelibu. We'll… consider it."
He didn't even manage his usual tidy farewell.
Instead, almost reflexively, he took Jane's hand and turned away—walking briskly in the opposite direction from Shigui Zhai.
His pace was faster than normal. His grip on her was just a little too tight, as if he needed distance immediately, as if he were fleeing something that had suddenly stepped into his peripheral vision.
Jane let him pull her without resistance. Beneath the hat brim, one brow lifted.
She didn't ask yet.
She only followed, then glanced back through the edge of her sunglasses—one quiet look at Shigui Zhai, and at Kelibu standing there, seeming faintly confused.
"Sorry! Sis—sorry, I bumped into you!"
"It's fine. Watch your step, young man—and you as well, ma'am."
After Qianye apologized to a "random passerby" he'd nearly collided with, he kept dragging Jane until they reached the sugar-water shop on the corner—Barabara.
It wasn't noon yet. The line was short. The familiar sweetness of jasmine and peach mingled with the white steam rolling off the pot.
"Boss, one bowl of jasmine taro dessert."
Qianye's voice carried a faint breathlessness. He released Jane's hand and spoke to the owner—then, as if belatedly remembering she existed, he turned toward her.
"Do you… want one too?"
Jane removed her sunglasses. Her blue-green eyes held calm inquiry—and a quiet, knowing kind of understanding.
She looked at the complicated expression still clinging to Qianye's face and shook her head.
"One bowl is fine, thanks."
She guided him to a folding table in a quieter corner. Sunlight filtered through banyan leaves overhead, scattering shifting specks across their shoulders and hair.
"Alright," Jane said, leaning in slightly. Her voice dropped—gentle, but steady in a way that didn't allow escape.
"Now tell me. Your reaction when you heard that name… wasn't normal. That girl—Fubo Youye. You know her? Did something happen? Something bad?"
Qianye's body tightened. He avoided her gaze at once, staring down at the rough wood grain of the table.
His fingers curled unconsciously, knuckles paling.
The dessert arrived—cool mist curling from the surface—but he didn't touch it.
Silence stretched between them. The distant market noise became a soft backdrop.
After a long time—just when it felt like he wouldn't speak—Qianye finally exhaled, almost like a sigh he'd been holding for a year.
He lifted his head. His eyes didn't fully focus, as if he'd fallen into an unpleasant memory. Sunlight touched his face, casting the shadow of his long lashes under his eyes and making him look strangely fragile.
"…I know her," he said at last, voice dry. "Not well. I only met her once. But that experience… it's hard to let go."
He paused, choosing words carefully—trying to sound calm.
"It was about a year ago. I got an emergency call in Chenghuiping. An elderly man living alone collapsed. It was critical."
"The man's children had hired a lot of doctors, but none of them could do more than keep him from getting worse. That wasn't sustainable. In the end, he came to me—knelt on the ground—begged me to help."
Qianye's voice settled into the tone he used when describing a case: objective, clinical… but with something compressed underneath.
"When I arrived, his condition was already terrible. After examining him, I realized it was a cardiac shutdown triggered by old complications. I needed to stabilize him immediately."
His fingertips traced lightly across the table as if replaying needlework.
"I managed to stabilize him. I told him his root issue wasn't impossible—if he took a special formulation I made, then adjusted slowly, it could actually be cured."
His brow tightened again.
"But… the problem was here. After he woke up, he was polite. He thanked me. But he seemed to… trust traditional medicine more."
"He asked—very tactfully—if I could use an herbal prescription for his long-term recovery."
Qianye gave a small, helpless smile.
"At that time, my understanding of herbal medicine wasn't as deep as it is now. But the patient asked, so I did what I could."
"For days I combed every text I could find, tried several old formulas people claimed worked—but either the effect wasn't good enough, or the ingredient combinations caused minor side effects…"
His voice carried the fatigue of those nights.
"In the end, I basically didn't sleep. I finally found a prescription in a damaged, rare book—its notes were vague, but the medicinal logic was incredibly elegant."
"I ran it through my head again and again, confirmed it should work, and the properties were gentle—perfect for the old man's body."
Then his tone sank, and the shadow returned.
"But the ingredients were complicated. Some were extremely rare. I ran across all of Chenghuiping—every herbal shop, including Pingxintang. It took two full days. I begged, I negotiated, I searched—until I finally scraped together… just one dose."
His fingers clenched.
"That afternoon, I carried the medicine bundle—everything I'd spent days obtaining—and I was finally hopeful. I was hurrying to the old man's home, thinking I could finally solve it."
His speed picked up; the anger and panic leaked through.
"In an alley, something shot out from the side and snatched the bundle right out of my hand. I didn't even see it clearly. I only heard scrambling sounds and something like a small animal's cry—then it was gone."
He shut his eyes for a moment, as if he could still feel his heart stopping.
"I went crazy looking for it. That alley, the surrounding streets—I searched again and again. I asked everyone who might've seen something. Nothing. The bundle vanished like it had evaporated."
His voice trembled.
"Do you know what that meant? It wasn't just my work—it was the old man's chance to recover. If the treatment got interrupted, his condition could crash again. Everything could be wasted."
"Then a young man noticed me—tall, wearing a plain tank top, muscular, with red dog ears and red hair. He came over and asked what happened."
"I was so frantic I could've cried. I didn't care anymore—I told him everything."
Qianye continued, remembering.
"After he heard it, his expression was… complicated. Surprised, helpless… and something like he already knew. He told me to wait there. He said he might know who did it."
He paused.
"Not long after, he came back—with a girl."
"Red twin braids. Green eyes. That lively, trickster look… it was Fubo Youye. She looked extremely apologetic, holding my medicine bundle."
"How pretty was she?"
"…Pretty cute."
"Jane! Don't interrupt my memory!"
"Sorry? I'm just curious."
Qianye shot Jane a look—exasperated despite himself—then forced himself back into the story.
"She apologized and said… her pet— a raccoon dog—had stolen it."
Now the suppressed anger finally surfaced. Even a year later, the edge was still there.
"She said it happened because her pet saw me in a white coat. And because its owner—meaning her—had psychological trauma about people in white coats. She'd get sick, tremble all over. The raccoon dog wanted to 'get revenge' for its owner, so it stole my stuff."
He looked up at Jane, green eyes bright with raw disbelief and resentment.
"Jane, can you understand how I felt? I'd worked myself to the bone to find a way to save a patient, and I almost lost everything because of a reason that… childish."
"The old man was waiting at home to take that medicine. I didn't have time, and I didn't have the emotional space to listen to her 'explanation' or 'pain.'"
He inhaled hard, trying to smooth the surge back down, but his voice stayed cold.
"I snatched the bundle out of her hands. I didn't even look at them again. I just let out a cold sound and ran. I had to deliver the medicine immediately. I couldn't waste even one more second."
Qianye lowered his gaze to the dessert bowl, which had long since stopped fogging with coolness.
His voice became heavier, exhausted.
"Later, the old man's condition did stabilize. He got better. But… whenever I think about it—about that girl, and that ridiculous raccoon dog—I still feel…"
He swallowed.
"Uncomfortable."
"I can't accept it. No matter what your reason is, you don't treat something life-or-death like a prank."
He finished. The corner went quiet.
It was as if he'd set down a weight—and also as if he'd sunk deeper under it. His whole aura dimmed.
Jane listened without interrupting, eyes fixed on his face: the crease between his brows, the flush of agitation, the lingering fear underneath the anger.
When he finally stopped—eyes lowered, looking like a stubborn kid who'd been wronged but refused to forgive—Jane sighed softly.
She didn't argue.
She simply reached out and pulled him into her arms.
Qianye stiffened first, instinctively. He tried to lean away.
Jane's arms held him gently but firmly, drawing him against her shoulder.
Her hand patted his back—slow, steady—like soothing a startled animal.
"It's fine," she murmured into his hair, voice stripped of its usual teasing edge. "It's already over."
"I get it. That would piss anyone off. If it were me, I'd probably have done something harsher."
She felt the faint tremor in his body gradually ease, and then continued, quieter:
"But look—your medicine came back. The patient got treated. That's what matters most, right?"
Her fingers combed lightly through the soft hair at the back of his head.
"And maybe… that girl really did have something awful behind it. People don't get that kind of reaction to white coats for no reason."
Jane wasn't demanding forgiveness. She was guiding—trying to keep him from being chained to the bitterness.
"And she did come back to apologize. She returned it. The method was wrong, but at least… she didn't let the mistake keep going."
Qianye stayed against her shoulder. Jane's scent was different from the sugar-water sweetness—cooler, cleaner, with a faint bite that steadied him.
He didn't speak.
He just leaned there, as if he needed to absorb the comfort first before he could even decide what he thought.
While she soothed him, Jane's gaze slid—seemingly casual—to a narrow alley across the street.
Her eyes sharpened, cutting through the moving crowd and shifting light, landing precisely on a figure half-hidden in shadow.
A girl in a sailor uniform and short skirt, red twin braids trembling. Those lively green eyes were now flooded with moisture, loaded with sorrow and self-blame.
She had heard everything.
Her hands were twisted tight into her hem, shoulders hunched like she might start crying any second.
Behind her, a raccoon dog wearing a little hat—her constant companion, A Fu—shifted restlessly.
Jane's mouth moved into an expression so faint it was almost nothing—something complex, unreadable.
She said nothing.
She only withdrew her gaze, tightened her arms around Qianye a little more, and rested her chin lightly on the top of his head.
Sunlight kept flickering through leaves. The dessert shop kept breathing out sweetness. Weifeidi's noise kept rolling onward.
But in that small corner, guilt, release, understanding, and an unresolved knot spread outward like ripples from a stone dropped into water—silent, widening.
"By the way," Jane said after a moment, as if switching topics on a whim, "do you want to get a fortune told later?"
"…Huh?" Qianye blinked, confused. "Why did you suddenly bring that up?"
"Because—"
Jane's smile faltered.
Her lips pressed together, puzzled. She had meant to say something else—something about going to a place not far from here, Qiulongwei—
But Qianye's expression was already questioning, and Jane abruptly laughed it off. She reached up, ruffled his silver cowlick, and teased lightly:
"Because I want to have them tell my fortune… the future for you and me."
She leaned closer, voice turning soft and syrupy.
"…Alright, alright. Let's just treat it as a slip of the tongue, okay? It's not like someone could be setting me up."
And yet, right behind her—unseen—a small, exquisitely made talisman quietly dispersed, the lines of its spell dissolving into the air.
Not far away, inside a "random" shop, that "ordinary passerby" curled their lips into a faint smile, rose from their seat, walked to the door—
and slowly pushed it open.
Join here to read ahead.
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Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
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Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
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Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
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Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 225
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Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
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Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 130
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
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Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 100
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The Most Filial Son Under Heav 75
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Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 60
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Transmigrated as Sukuna 71
Checking In in Demon Slayer 75
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 80
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 66
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 58
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 65
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Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 59
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MYGO Beauties 56
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 45
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Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 36
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 35
The Uma Musume Who Became 30
I'm Definitely Not the King of 35
After Maxing Out Every Class 35
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