"Huachu… my precious daughter…" Duke De'an sobbed until his voice cracked, tears streaming down his deeply wrinkled face. "Get up and look at Father… Father was wrong. I shouldn't have forced you like that…"
His grief was raw, nearly delirious.
"But that poor teacher—he's not a good man! Even now, he won't come see you. Not even once!"
Song Yinjian stood quietly to the side and listened for a moment. He already understood, more or less, what had happened.
He walked over slowly and spoke with deep regret, his tone heavy with sympathy.
"Duke De'an, Miss Huachu was pure and kind—like the finest jade in this world. To fall into the hands of a beast in human skin… it truly is the cruelty of fate."
Hearing a stranger's voice, Duke De'an slowly turned his head.
His voice was hoarse like a broken bellows, exhausted to the bone. "Who are you? I've never seen you before. Why are you here?" Song Yinjian clasped his hands respectfully.
"Duke De'an. I am Song Yinjian, disciple under Cloud Retainer of Mt. Aocang. I drift through the mortal world so the departed may find rest."
The instant Duke De'an heard that, it was as if he'd been lit like a powder keg.
His face changed violently, and he shouted harshly, "Get out! What nonsense are you speaking?! My daughter Huachu is only asleep! She's just tired—tomorrow morning she'll wake up! Don't you dare speak such madness here and disturb my daughter!"
His arms flailed as he spoke, emotions surging to the edge of collapse. Song Yinjian was speechless inside.
If your daughter could wake up now, you'd probably be the one scared to death. Outwardly, he remained calm and composed.
"Duke De'an, my senior sister can wield Cryo to stop Miss Huachu's body from further deterioration. And as an adeptal disciple, I will ensure she leaves with dignity."
With that, he didn't linger even a heartbeat. He turned and walked toward the hall exit. Just as he was about to step out, Duke De'an's dry voice came from behind him. "Bring your senior sister. As for you… you don't need to come, for now."
Song Yinjian nodded slightly, his reply even. "Understood."
He left the estate—an overwhelming blend of grief and rot—behind him. He moved quickly along familiar streets, returning straight to his shop.
First, he washed thoroughly, scrubbing away the stench that seemed to cling to his skin. After bathing, he changed into clean clothes and walked to Shenhe's closed door.
"Senior Sister," he said softly, voice lowered in request. "I need your help with something." A moment later, the door opened slowly.
Shenhe appeared—cold as frost, like a snow lotus blooming on the peak of a distant mountain: solitary, pure, and untouchable.
Her pale face looked carved from ice and snow, an aura of distance radiating from her very bones.
She looked at him quietly. Her lips parted, and she offered a single word. "Speak."
Her voice was clear and cold, like mountain springwater.
Song Yinjian gathered his thoughts and told her everything he'd seen that morning at Duke De'an's estate.
When she heard that even in such circumstances Duke De'an still clung stubbornly to hope—praying for a miracle that his daughter might return to life—something in Shenhe shifted.
A trace of remembrance flickered in her deep eyes.
Then, without another word, she stepped forward and walked out. Song Yinjian hurried after her to guide the way.
A quarter-hour later, they arrived at Duke De'an's residence.
Song Yinjian stopped at the gate and let Shenhe enter alone. Not long after, Cryo stirred and gathered inside the courtyard.
And the thick stench of rot dispersed—vanishing as if swept away. Soon, Shenhe emerged.
Her expression was as cool as ever. She didn't say anything to Song Yinjian—only continued walking forward in silence.
Song Yinjian quickly followed.
Unlike before, Shenhe didn't return to the Adeptal Rites shop. She headed west.
They crossed the lively streets, leaving the bustle behind, until they reached the outskirts—quiet and sparse.
In front of a house that had fallen into complete ruin, Shenhe stopped.
The walls were mottled and peeling. The roof tiles were broken and incomplete. Wild grass overtook the stone steps, swaying freely in the wind.
And at the foot of those steps, a few bunches of pure white flowers—delicate and small—trembled gently in the breeze.
Shenhe lowered her gaze slightly, eyes lingering on those blossoms. Song Yinjian stood beside her the entire time.
He understood her mood.
In his previous life, he had often stood alone before gravestones, silent for hours. The sun sank gradually, a red-gold disc spilling its final warmth across the land. Shenhe broke the silence at last.
She turned slightly and looked at Song Yinjian, her voice soft. "Junior Brother… was Duke De'an right to do what he's doing?" Song Yinjian paused briefly, then answered seriously.
"The dead are gone. Clinging to what can't be changed will only cause the living more pain. But given Duke De'an's circumstances, it's understandable. No one should blame him—or stop him."
"Why?" Shenhe's emotions stirred, a faint tremor in her voice. Song Yinjian spoke slowly.
"Duke De'an and his wife had two daughters. Their family of four used to live happily enough. Ten years ago, a sudden misfortune took his wife. Five years ago, his eldest daughter died of illness."
He looked toward the fading light.
"And now, the youngest—the one he loved most—has jumped into a well. How could he possibly bear it?"
After hearing that, Shenhe's eyes softened with sympathy. "Junior Brother… please help him more."