(Lu Shen's POV)
When I opened my eyes, it was still dark outside.
For a second, I thought I was dreaming — the kind of half-conscious haze where everything feels too still. The rain had stopped, leaving behind the faint scent of wet earth and blood. The air was thick, heavy, humming with something I couldn't name.
And then I realized what it was.
Yan Yezhen was glowing.
No, not the romantic "moonlight-kissing-his-cheek" kind of glow. I mean literally glowing. His body was radiating golden light — faint at first, then stronger, like sunlight bursting through cracks. Strange runes crawled across his skin, symbols that flickered and pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
I sat up so fast I almost tripped over my chair. "What the hell—"
> System Alert: Warning! Timeline deviation detected. Protagonist awakening—three years early.
I froze. "Three years early?! What do you mean three years early?!"
> Causation Analysis: Host interference has accelerated bloodline activation sequence.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Oh, perfect. So me saving his life means I've officially broken the plot."
> Affirmative. Please prepare for unpredictable narrative consequences.
"Unpredictable consequences?!" I hissed. "You could at least sound a little less cheerful about it!"
The System didn't answer. Of course. It never did when things were about to explode—
—Which, unfortunately, was exactly what happened next.
A golden pulse of energy rippled outward from Yan Yezhen's body, knocking over every lantern in the room. Light flared, bright enough to burn through my eyelids, and a low hum filled the air — like the sound of a thousand strings vibrating at once. The pressure hit me a second later.
My ears popped. My knees nearly gave out.
"Damn it—" I staggered back, throwing my arm up to shield my face. The energy lashed out again, wilder this time, like a storm that had been waiting centuries to escape. Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor. The windowpanes shattered.
"Yan Yezhen!" I shouted over the roar. "Stop glowing like a damn divine lantern and wake up!"
But he didn't wake. His body arched off the bed, trembling, light pouring from every pore. The golden runes burned hotter, sharper — until I saw the faint outlines of frost forming on his fingertips. Frost. From a golden aura.
"Okay," I muttered through gritted teeth, "that's… new."
The System's voice returned, panicked for the first time.
> Warning! Protagonist's Divine Ice Bloodline awakening at unstable rate! Estimated blast radius: twenty meters!
My heart jumped. "Blast—? Twenty—?! That's the entire courtyard!"
> Host survival rate: 16%.
"Oh, for—!" I lunged forward, slamming my hand on the bed's edge. The air was thick, heavy with power, but I forced my way through it and grabbed his shoulders.
His skin was burning hot and freezing cold at the same time — like holding fire wrapped in ice. "Yan Yezhen!" I yelled, shaking him. "You're not dying again, do you hear me? You already used up my daily panic quota yesterday!"
Another surge hit. Golden energy erupted from his chest, slamming into me like a battering ram. The world blurred — I hit the floor, hard, my ears ringing. The courtyard walls outside gave a sickening crack as the light tore through them.
I could've run. I should've run.
But for some reason — maybe instinct, maybe stupidity — I crawled back to the bed.
He was still thrashing, breathing raggedly, eyes shut tight. His entire body was shaking.
I did the only thing that came to mind. I grabbed him and pulled him against me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "It's fine," I said — to him, to myself, to the gods, I wasn't sure. "You're fine. Just—hold on, okay?"
The golden light flared one last time — and then, all at once, it collapsed inward, sucked back into his body with a violent rush of air.
Silence.
The pressure vanished. The room was a mess — cracked walls, scorched floor, shards of glass everywhere — but the only sound left was the slow, steady rhythm of rain dripping from the eaves outside.
I blinked, breathless, half expecting the System to declare me dead.
> Host health: 47%. Mission progress updated.
I groaned. "Yeah, thanks for the update. Next time, maybe a warning before the apocalypse?"
No response. Typical.
Slowly, I looked down. Yan Yezhen's body had gone still. The faint glow remained, softer now — threads of light curling beneath his skin like veins of molten gold.
His eyelashes fluttered.
My chest tightened.
And then, finally, he opened his eyes.
They weren't brown anymore.
They were blue — not the flat kind, but deep and luminous, the color of glacial lakes and winter skies. Every other person I'd seen in this world had dark eyes. But his? They were alive, burning cold, like they could pierce straight through my thoughts.
He blinked slowly, dazed. His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. "Lu Shen…?"
"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile even though my heart was still hammering. "You're awake. Welcome back from your glowing death episode."
He frowned faintly, trying to move. I could see confusion flicker in his expression — the kind that said he remembered something, maybe flashes of pain and light.
Then his gaze dropped to where my hand was still gripping his wrist. His eyes widened.
"You… saved me again," he murmured.
The words hit harder than they should have.
I cleared my throat, yanking my hand back like I'd been caught doing something illegal. "Don't make it sound so dramatic. I was just—uh—making sure you didn't burn the sect down."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips — tired, but real. "Still… thank you."
I looked away, pretending to examine a broken lantern. "You should thank the three-hundred-year-old ginseng instead. That thing cost more than my entire worth in this world."
He chuckled softly. The sound was quiet, almost fragile — but it made something twist in my chest.
> System Notification: Affection +10. Current Affection: 60.
I blinked. "Sixty already? Wait, that's—"
> Mission Updated → "Maintain Trust until Affection ≥ 100."
"Maintain trust?" I repeated under my breath. "That's not ominous at all."
> Side Quest unlocked: 'Tend to the Protagonist's Recovery.' Rewards: EXP +200, Affection +5, Plot Stability +3%.
I groaned and rubbed my temples. "You really have no shame, do you? Turning near-death trauma into a side quest."
Yan Yezhen tilted his head slightly. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, flashing a strained grin. "Just… talking to myself. Habit."
He looked at me for a long moment — too long. Then he nodded slowly and leaned back against the pillow, exhaustion pulling at his features.
I wanted to say something — to ask how he felt, to check if the healers needed to be called — but the words stuck.
For some reason, I couldn't stop staring at those eyes.
Cold, impossibly bright, but not empty. Not anymore.
And I remembered the book. I remembered how this was supposed to happen three years later — after betrayal, after loss, after everything that made him hard and untouchable.
But now, because of me, he'd awakened early.
Because of me, the plot was broken.
Maybe that should've terrified me. But watching him breathe, alive and steady, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.
> System Reminder: Caution. Host interference has permanently altered narrative trajectory. Unknown consequences may arise.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered under my breath. "You keep saying that. I'll deal with it later."
Outside, the clouds shifted. Moonlight spilled through the broken window, painting the room in silver and gold.
Yan Yezhen's lashes fluttered as he drifted back to sleep. His breathing evened out.
I sank into the chair beside the bed, every muscle aching, my clothes still damp.
"Three years early, huh," I whispered. "Guess we're really rewriting the story now."
The System didn't answer, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I could feel the world shifting — like the first ripple of a stone cast into still water.
And for the first time since I landed in this damned novel, I wasn't sure if I was saving the protagonist… or dooming us both.