Though Lin Wanrong felt a flicker of anger in his chest, he didn't regret what he'd just done. Killing a beauty wasn't exactly a pleasant thought—now, if it was "screwing her to death," that might be worth considering. Channeling his inner Ah Q, he let his imagination run wild with Xiao Qingxuan, soothing his bruised ego with some good old-fashioned fantasizing.
But right now, drenched to the bone, his body burning like a furnace, battered by serious injuries and poison, even if he wanted to "screw her to death," he had the will but not the strength.
Luckily, the spot where he'd come ashore wasn't far from his current crash pad, and with night falling, he didn't have to worry about anyone spotting him.
Lin Wanrong scoped out his surroundings. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he gritted his teeth, dodged around obstacles, and pushed through the pain to hobble back to his place. Along the way, no one paid him any mind. That Xiao chick didn't seem to have sent anyone into the city to hunt him down, which finally let him breathe a little easier.
The moment he reached his doorstep, the last of his strength gave out. He collapsed in a heap, gasping for air in ragged breaths.
An old, shadowy figure shuffled slowly toward him, voice raspy as he said, "You're back."
His empty eye sockets stared blankly, like someone had gouged them out, leaving two hollow pits of flesh—creepy as hell.
Lin Wanrong had been living with him for nearly a month now, so the initial fear had worn off. He nodded. "Yeah, Uncle Wei. Just went out for a stroll—didn't expect to almost lose my damn life."
Since they'd started rooming together, Lin Wanrong had always been straight with Uncle Wei—except about his real origins. That shit was too wild, too unbelievable to spill.
Uncle Wei didn't say a word. He crouched down slowly, pressing two fingers to Lin Wanrong's pulse. After a moment of furrowed silence, he pulled back and said, "You've been poisoned. It's chronic soft-tendon powder—not lethal, but within two hours, your whole body'll turn purple, you'll feel weak as hell, and it'll take twelve hours to shake it off."
Hearing it wasn't fatal, Lin Wanrong let out a long, relieved breath. Guess that little chick didn't go all out to finish me off, he thought. But then he replayed the scene in the water—if the poison had kicked in back then, he'd have been a goner for sure. A chill crept up his spine.
"As for your internal and external injuries, a few days' rest should patch you up," Uncle Wei added. Blind as he was, a quick feel told him everything about Lin Wanrong's wounds.
Knowing his life wasn't on the line perked Lin Wanrong up. The external injuries didn't seem as big a deal anymore, and even the pain felt lighter—though that was probably just his mind playing tricks.
Uncle Wei pressed a hand on him. "Brace yourself—I'm pulling out that little arrow."
Lin Wanrong froze, then grimaced. "Uncle Wei, don't we have any anesthetic? This brute-force approach ain't exactly civilized."
Uncle Wei blinked—or would've, if he had eyes. "What's anesthetic?"
Figures this world's tech is still in the damn dark ages. Guess Li Shizhen and Hua Tuo haven't shown up yet. I'm screwed. Lin Wanrong, unwilling to give up, asked, "You know, something to numb my shoulder so I don't feel it when you yank the arrow out?"
Uncle Wei shook his head. "Never heard of a drug like that. I've got knockout powder, though—you want some?"
Lin Wanrong waved him off fast. "No way!" Take knockout powder with my eyes wide open? That's a joke—I'd end up sick even if I wasn't.
Uncle Wei offered up one of his stinky shoes. "Bite this, then."
"Nope, I'm good!" Lin Wanrong scrambled, looking around until he grabbed two thread-bound books and stuffed them in his mouth. Muffled, he said to Uncle Wei, "Go for it."
Uncle Wei was about to start when Lin Wanrong let out a garbled, "Wait—" Seeing the old man's confused "stare," Lin Wanrong gave an awkward grin. "Uncle, go easy, alright? That's my flesh and blood in there."
Uncle Wei nodded. Lin Wanrong's mind flashed to the little chick who'd fucked him over, rage boiling up as he mentally cursed out her entire family tree.
No point in chickening out now. A steely resolve settled over his face.
Uncle Wei gripped the golden arrow lightly and, with a quick tug, pulled it free. Lin Wanrong bit down hard on the books, his face paling, sweat pouring down, but he didn't let out a single grunt.
Uncle Wei gave an approving nod, admiration etched on his face. He clearly hadn't pegged Lin Wanrong for having such grit.
Growing up in a mountain village by the Han River, Lin Wanrong had a stubborn streak and the tough-as-nails spirit of a country kid. Without it, he wouldn't have aced his way into Peking University as the city's top student. He wasn't at the level of scraping bone to cure poison, but gritting his teeth through an arrow pull? He could handle that.
Uncle Wei handed him the extracted golden arrow. Lin Wanrong turned it over in his hands, inspecting it.
The arrow was pure gold, finely crafted, with a delicate seal-script "Xuan" carved into the shaft.
Thinking back to that fake calling herself Xiao Qingxuan, it clicked. The chick's name was Qingxuan—"Qingxuan" was just a play on the sound.
"Xiao Qingxuan, Xiao Qingxuan…" Lin Wanrong muttered her name twice. It was a damn elegant name—just hearing it painted a picture of her.
This chick made me bleed, so I'll damn well make her bleed too. An eye for an eye, penny for penny—that's how I'll deal with her. A cold smirk curled his lips.
Uncle Wei caught him mumbling the name, a strange glint flashing across his face. "Xiao Qingxuan? You sure her surname's Xiao?"
Lin Wanrong couldn't be certain of her surname, but Qingxuan being her given name seemed solid enough.
Uncle Wei pressed, "Wanrong, tell me everything about how you ran into her today—start to finish."
Uncle Wei was the first person Lin Wanrong met in this world, the guy who'd fished him out of Xuanwu Lake. The gratitude went without saying. So Lin Wanrong laid it all out: what happened by the lake, every word of his back-and-forth with Xiao Qingxuan, no detail spared.
As Uncle Wei listened, a mix of surprise crept onto his face—clearly impressed by Lin Wanrong's bold takes.
When he got to the poem, Uncle Wei's shock deepened. "Wanrong, you really wrote that?"
Back when he'd taken annual leave to climb Mount Tai with colleagues, that damn girl had forced him to haul three or four people's gear. After a rain, he'd slipped on the wet path, tumbled into the sea of clouds, and somehow ended up in this bizarre new world, splashing down in Xuanwu Lake.
If Uncle Wei hadn't happened by to pull him out, Lin Wanrong would've been fish food long ago. That's why he held such deep gratitude and respect for the old man—he shouldn't lie to him about this.
But he also knew how crazy this place was about ancient poetry. To dodge the hassle, he steeled himself and said, "Yeah, Uncle Wei, I came up with it while wandering by the lake. Hope it doesn't make you laugh."
Uncle Wei sighed. "Wanrong, we've been together over a month. This whole time, you've been sitting around, muttering about 'travel' and 'company'—never once saw you crack a poetry book. Only started stepping out these last few days. I figured you weren't into that stuff, but turns out you've got a whole damn canyon of talent in that chest. With just those lines, none of today's so-called geniuses or beauties could touch you."
Lin Wanrong's face flushed red. Xiao Qingxuan had said something similar, and he'd taken it in stride back then. But hearing it from his savior? That hit different—kinda embarrassing.
Still, he didn't feel a shred of shame. Dropped into this world out of nowhere, he needed something to lean on. Might as well call it God's compensation.
If we're talking shameless, that chairman's daughter who'd landed him in this mess took the cake.
Thinking of that infuriating brat sent Lin Wanrong's temper flaring again. He quickly reined it in—sucked in his gut, clenched his ass, calmed down. Compared to her, Xiao Qingxuan was downright adorable.