Brother Su doesn't look like someone who's used to being served by servants, either.

Three more days drifted by without much to mark them.

For someone like Su Ji, who had been trading blows with a Nascent Soul cultivator not long ago, this kind of eat-sleep, sleep-eat routine was like cramming a storm-tossed dragon into a palm-sized goldfish bowl and telling it to play dead.

...

Snow was falling outside.

Scattered and relentless, with no sign of letting up.

Inside the room, the charcoal fire burned merrily, occasionally spitting a spark with a sharp crackle.

Su Ji lay sprawled on the bed, staring blankly at the carved bedboard above him, feeling like he was starting to mold.

"Senior Brother..."

A fluffy little paw rested on his shoulder, followed by the furry head of a fox wrapped in bandages—only a pair of big, damp eyes showing.

Su Jiu’s voice was muffled, choked with grievance: "I want to transform..."

Su Ji didn’t even lift his eyelids, replying lazily: "Hold it in."

"Wishing helps? If it did, I’d want to become an emperor directly."

"But..." Su Jiu’s claws scratched at his shoulder, hinting at frustration, "That silly woman yesterday... she actually brought me a live chicken!"

At that, Su Ji almost couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Yesterday’s scene had been quite the spectacle.

That girl Yun Yao, with her bizarre way of thinking, had apparently heard some folk remedy somewhere—that a wounded fox needed to eat live prey to regain its strength.

So, out of nowhere, she’d grabbed an old hen, tossed it in front of Su Jiu, and then stood there with a tender expression, urging her to "eat it while it’s warm."

The chicken flapped around Su Jiu’s nest, feathers flying, clucking wildly.

The look on Su Jiu’s fox face was worse than if she’d bitten into a fly.

After all, she was a descendant of the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox. Down on her luck as she might be, she was still a civilized fox who ate cooked food and valued hygiene. Chomping on a live chicken?

That was an insult to her fox dignity!

Su Jiu buried her head in the crook of Su Ji’s neck, her voice trembling as if she might cry: "She just stared at me the whole time... like I was some picky idiot."

"Bear with it," Su Ji said, reaching out to stroke her head—still that same comforting feel. "That’s how it is when you’re living under someone else’s roof. She’s our lifesaver, after all. Her brain might be a bit off, but her heart’s in the right place."

"Besides, I’m not much better off."

Su Ji sighed, reached under the blanket, fumbled for a bit, and pulled out a piece of waste stone that had turned grayish-white, tossing it carelessly into his storage ring.

A small pile of such stones had already gathered in there.

"And I’m still trying to cultivate my Golden Core."

Not that he hadn’t made any progress, though.

It was just that the process felt like sneaking around like a thief.

Every day, when no one was around, he’d secretly squeeze a few spirit stones.

It reminded him of back in school, when he’d pull out his phone under the desk to check messages while the teacher turned to write on the blackboard.

Heart pounding, palms sweating.

Always scared that silly girl Yun Yao might barge in.

Just then.

"Knock, knock, knock."

A very rhythmic series of knocks at the door.

Su Ji and Su Jiu exchanged a glance.

Su Jiu expertly slithered back into her little nest, pulled her pink blanket over her, left only her nose poking out, and instantly slipped into her "weak little pet" role-playing mode.

Su Ji also adjusted his posture, forced the healthy flush off his face, and put on a half-dead, sickly expression.

"Come in."

The door swung open.

A blast of cold wind, carrying snow flurries, rushed in.

It wasn’t Yun Yao, but a young man in a black-and-white Daoist robe who entered.

He had a delicate, scholarly look about his face, and he was pushing a rather oddly shaped wooden wheelchair.

This was Yun Yao’s "long-winded" junior apprentice, Yun Ying.

"Brother Su." Yun Ying nodded at Su Ji, his expression neither warm nor cold, tinged with an air of businesslike efficiency. "The weather’s nice today. Senior Sister worried you might be getting bored cooped up inside, so she asked me to take you out for some sun."

Su Ji glanced at the leaden sky outside, the corner of his mouth twitching.

This is what you call nice weather?

And where’s the sun?

But he knew that more likely, that restless girl Yun Yao had snuck down the mountain to play again, pawning off the task of looking after the invalid to her junior brother.

"Much obliged." Su Ji didn’t refuse, struggling to sit up.

Yun Ying didn’t just stand there; he stepped over to lend a hand. His movements weren’t exactly gentle, but they got the job done, steadying Su Ji as he moved from the bed to the wheelchair.

"This wheelchair was specially ordered by Senior Sister from a carpenter down the mountain," Yun Ying remarked casually as he tucked a blanket over Su Ji’s knees.

"Let’s go."

Yun Ying pushed the wheelchair through the door.

The snow had been swept clean from the courtyard, revealing the gray-blue flagstones beneath.

Though the air was cold, it was certainly much fresher than the stale stuffiness inside the room.

Yun Ying used his spiritual energy to shield them from the wind and snow. Neither of them said a word.

The only sound was the low rumble of the wooden wheels rolling across the stone paths.

Yun Ying maneuvered the chair around the groves at the back of the mountain.

The trees there were mostly cold-resistant pines and cypresses, tall and verdant, their branches laden with white snow—quite a scenic view, actually.

After walking for a while, Yun Ying suddenly broke the silence.

"Speaking of which, we’ve seen each other here and there these past days, but I haven’t formally asked for your name, Brother Su."

His voice was flat, revealing no particular emotion, as if he were asking what they might have for dinner.

Su Ji squinted, leaning back in his chair, and replied lazily: "Su Ji."

"Yun Ying."

After this simple exchange of names, there was another stretch of silence.

"THUD—"

The wheelchair jolted violently as it ran over a raised stone.

Su Ji felt a sharp, agonizing shock run up his tailbone, and he nearly let out a yell.

He winced, twisting his head to look up at Yun Ying with a pained expression: "Brother Yun, I have to say... is there any chance I could get a softer cushion for this chair? This thing is murder on my butt."

Yun Ying glanced down at him and smiled a gentle, harmless smile.

"But, Brother Su, you don’t exactly strike me as some pampered noble who’s used to being waited on hand and foot."

He pushed the wheelchair onward, his tone airy: "Why get so picky now that you’ve landed in our humble little corner of the world? I’m not as easygoing as my senior sister, and I don’t have the time to go find you some cushion."

Su Ji raised an eyebrow.

Oh?

This kid—he looked all refined on the surface, but his words sure were sharp.

He was using a roundabout way to call Su Ji a broke nobody with no right to comfort.

"You’re saying I look like a beast of burden, slaving away for others?" Su Ji wasn’t offended; instead, he chuckled and picked up the thread.

Yun Ying smiled a smile that seemed sincere enough, but the words cut like knives: "Yes."

"Spot on." Su Ji replied dryly, making a mental note to remember this little jab.

The wheelchair rolled on.