The next day, before the sun fully rose, Shu Mingye had already given the order. Everything was ready. The carriage stood waiting at the gate. Horses stamped and snorted, sending clouds of steam into the cold morning air. Guards stood in place, silent and steady, though their eyes carried the same weariness as the night that had just ended. The whole courtyard smelled faintly of damp stone, morning dew, and tired determination.
Shu Mingye carried Linyue in his arms. She was dressed in soft white robes, her hair loose, her face pale as moonlight. There was no need to stay in Luyan anymore. They had come, received blessings and scars both. Now they were married, and Master Yin Xue had already said there was nothing more she could do here.
When he left for Luyan weeks ago, he had arranged everything in Shulin for her return. Warm chambers, soft robes, silk bedding. Even the ridiculous wedding pavilion Song Meiyu insisted on, draped in far too many ribbons. He had expected a future to greet them when they returned. He hadn't expected to return like this. He took a step toward the carriage. The wood creaked under his foot. The horses pawed the ground. And then—
"Waaaait! WAIT FOR MEEEE!!"
Shu Mingye stopped, slowly turning his head.
Song Meiyu was running down the courtyard. Her hair was in a lopsided braid, robe half-tied, and in her arms, she clutched an enormous basket that rattled with a suspicious clang every few steps. She half-tripped on a loose stone, caught herself, then kept running.
"You're not leaving me behind! I packed everything. Medicine, food, talismans, and—don't look at me like that, I know what I'm doing!"
The basket rattled louder, something inside giving off a faint thunk like a pan colliding with a jar.
One of the guards blinked. Another coughed into his fist. Even the horses seemed to turn their heads in judgment.
Shu Mingye's eyes narrowed. His voice was cold. "Why would you come along?"
Song Meiyu huffed, still panting as she fixed her crooked sash. "I'm her family and emotional support. Obviously. Do you think I'd let you run off with her like some villain in the night?"
Before Shu Mingye could reply, two more figures staggered into the courtyard. Shen Zhenyu looked calm, as always. But beside him, He Yuying trudged forward, dragging what looked like half a warehouse behind him. Cloth bundles, crates tied with rope, and baskets stacked so high they swayed dangerously.
"I think my spine cracked," He Yuying muttered, glaring at the largest bundle. "She packed rocks. Actual rocks."
"They're dried herbs!" Song Meiyu snapped. "For medicine!"
Shen Zhenyu ignored their bickering. He gave Shu Mingye a slight bow of his head. "We've got the masters' permission. They agreed it's safer if we accompany her."
Song Meiyu crossed her arms and lifted her chin proudly. "That's right. We're here to keep an eye on you. To make sure you don't break your promise and take care of her properly. Think of us as your supervisors."
Shu Mingye's brow twitched. Supervisors. He had half a mind to fling them all into the nearest ditch. His lips parted, ready to argue, to reject, to silence them. But then his gaze dropped to the fragile woman in his arms, her lashes still, her face pale. His chest tightened. He let out a long, slow breath.
"Fine," he said flatly, eyes narrowing into something close to a threat. "But if any of you cause trouble, I'll throw you off the carriage."
His tone was so sharp, so utterly serious, that silence fell. Even the horses flicked their ears back and snorted, as if they too understood he meant it.
With a flick of his hand, his men moved at once. They knew their king. When he gave an order, hesitation did not exist. Within moments, another carriage was prepared and rolled into place behind the first.
He Yuying dropped his bags to the ground with a dramatic thud. "Finally. Some peace." He arched his back with a groan. "I think I lost two vertebrae to those herbs."
Song Meiyu ignored him, already halfway up the first step of the second carriage. She pointed a finger directly at Shu Mingye. "She needs sunlight, warmth, positive energy, and tea brewed at exactly seventy-nine degrees! Not seventy-eight, not eighty. Seventy-nine! And pie. She likes pie. And moon dumplings! Actually—wait. What if sniffing moon dumplings helps her recover? Why didn't I think of that sooner?"
Shen Zhenyu, carrying absolutely nothing, stepped into the carriage without a word.
He Yuying turned and glared at him. "Of course. Of course I carry the mountains while the young master strolls in with not even a feather in his hand. Naturally."
Inside the first carriage was an unconscious bride wrapped carefully in silks. Shu Mingye sat unmoving, his arms cradling her close, his chest the pillow for her head. He didn't react to the shouting outside. Didn't respond to the absurdity. His whole world, his whole focus, was only her.
In the second carriage, Song Meiyu was shoving lotus seed pies into everyone's hands and insisting they were for "emotional therapy." Shen Zhenyu sat in the corner reading a scroll, his calm expression making it clear he was probably studying something useful. He Yuying, on the other hand, was trying to sleep but kept getting jabbed in the ribs by the corner of a basket full of dried roots.
And just like that, two carriages rolled out of Luyan with one unconscious bride, one dangerously devoted groom, one stoic scholar, one overly enthusiastic herbalist, and one exhausted, unpaid luggage boy.
The journey to Shulin had officially begun. And by the looks of it, it was going to be a very long trip.
Inside the first carriage, everything was quiet except for the soft creaking of wheels and the rustle of wind brushing against the curtains. Shu Mingye sat with his back against the carriage wall, his arms wrapped gently around the woman in his lap.
Linyue lay still, her breath faint, her skin cold. He lowered his head, brushing strands of hair from her face. His thumb stroked her cheek gently, tracing the curve of her pale skin. Her lips had lost their color, but to him she was still the most beautiful sight in the world.
Would she keep sleeping like this forever? Or would she wake only to cough up more blood, her body breaking itself again and again?
He didn't know which thought scared him more. He missed her. Her mischievous smile when she teased him. The sparkle in her eyes when she outwitted someone. The way she called him "shameless" when he flirted. The way she made everything messy and bright. He missed all of it. All of her.
He sighed quietly, leaning his head back. "You know," he murmured, almost smiling, "it's not that bad, having you like this."
At least he could hold her like this all the time. She wasn't running around into danger. She wasn't arguing with him or disappearing to help someone else. She was just here. With him. She wouldn't escape from his arms, wouldn't walk away, wouldn't go anywhere. He didn't have to chain her to the bed. Didn't have to lock her in a room like he once half-joked about. She was still. Quiet. His. But somehow, his chest ached more than ever.
He closed his eyes. And without thinking, he pulled her in tighter, pressing her gently against his heart. "Just stay with me, Pie," he whispered. "That's all I ask."
Inside the second carriage, the atmosphere was slightly less tragic and significantly more chaotic.
Song Meiyu had somehow turned half the floor into a picnic area, surrounded by snack jars, teacup, dried herbs, and one suspiciously aggressive ginseng root that kept poking He Yuying in the knee.
"Will sister Linyue be alright?" Song Meiyu asked suddenly, voice soft, hugging her knees.
Shen Zhenyu, sitting quietly by the window, turned his head. "Let's hope so."
He Yuying, sprawled across a pile of luggage, opened one eye. "So, there's really no other lightning cultivator?"