The silence that followed was the kind that made you want to punch a wall just to confirm you still existed. Yun Yi stood frozen, one hand still raised, lips half-parted from his aborted attempt to snack on the scroll.
He could feel the heat blooming in his cheeks, and it wasn't the heroic, righteous kind. It was the kind that burned holes in his dignity. His brain was a frantic parade of self-recrimination:
Brilliant. Just brilliant. I get reincarnated into a world of cultivation, handed a mysterious, dangerous system, and my first major act as a master is to try and eat a scroll like a confused goat.
Lin Shan, to her credit, hadn't made a sound. She stood at attention, rigid as a training dummy, her gaze fixed somewhere above his head as though watching a particularly interesting cloud. He couldn't tell if it was professional discipline or sheer, catatonic disbelief holding her together.
His humiliation was only interrupted by a flicker in his vision—the faint blue shimmer of a system prompt materializing like a divine intervention.
[Biometric link requires direct physical contact with qualified target.]
For a heartbeat, Yun Yi nearly sagged in gratitude. Not because the problem was solved, but because the universe had finally thrown him a rope out of this pit of mortification.
Physical contact. That's it. Just… touch her hand. Easy. A completely normal request between a city lord's son and his guard. Totally ordinary. No reason for anyone to think I'm deranged.
Then the reality of it hit him: he was going to have to ask for her hand. Out loud.
Panic flared in his chest again. If he asked politely, it would sound awkward. If he tried to explain, he'd have to admit he'd been trying to gnaw on a scroll, which was… no. Just no.
Only one solution remained: sheer, unblinking authority.
Okay, think like a CEO. Or a Mafia boss. A deep, gravelly voice, he coached himself. No, too fake. How about a cold, indifferent, aristocratic tone? Yes, that's it. Unimpressed. Uncaring. Utterly in command.
He straightened his back, locked his jaw, and let his voice drop into a tone that said, I command battalions and burn villages before breakfast.
"Lin Shan," he said, his voice cracking slightly on the first syllable before he wrestled it into a lower register. "Give me your hand."
Her head jerked slightly, her eyes narrowing behind her mask.
"And do not let go," he added, "no matter what happens."
For a moment, she didn't move. Her posture remained locked, but something in her gaze shifted. It wasn't quite rebellion, but the flicker of a soldier caught between a direct order and every self-preservation instinct she possessed.
Then, slowly, she extended her gloved hand.
Yun Yi took it, trying to appear as if this were all part of some grand, calculated ritual. The second their fingers met, a new system overlay appeared in his vision:
[Biometric Scan in Progress… 30 seconds remaining]
He could endure pain. He could endure fear. But he was not emotionally prepared for thirty seconds of holding a woman's hand while both of them pretended it wasn't the most bizarre thing that had ever happened.
The "Do Not Startle" warning gnawed at him. Now, every tiny movement felt like it could trigger a reality-shattering event. His mind began to overcompensate:
Don't squeeze too hard. Don't loosen your grip. Don't make eye contact. Wait, maybe I should make eye contact? No, that's worse. You'll look like you're proposing. Gods above, what if she thinks I'm proposing? And what is this glove made of? It feels like... leather? Is it spirit-beast leather? Why is she wearing gloves indoors? To hide calluses? Scars? Or maybe a poisoned needle coated in seven-step soul-devouring venom?! Of course, that's it! My life force is draining away, I can feel it! Wait, no, that's just my palm sweating.
The seconds dragged. Twenty-five… twenty…
He tried to focus on anything else: the faint dust motes dancing in the moonlight, the creak of wood from the ceiling beams, the scent of sandalwood still lingering in the room.
Fifteen seconds.
His palm was starting to sweat. Could she feel that through the glove? Probably. Wonderful. Another thing to be remembered for: the clammy-handed young master.
Just then, he felt a tickle in his nose. An impending sneeze. No. No, no, no, not now! He frantically tried to suppress it, focusing on the "Do Not Startle" warning. If I sneeze, she vanishes. Do I have to explain to my parents that I sneezed my new bodyguard into another dimension? They'll disown me. They'll definitely disown me. He held his breath, fighting the urge with every fiber of his being. The tickle subsided, leaving him light-headed.
Ten seconds.
This is fine. Just a standard biometric scan between two professionals. Perfectly platonic. Utterly unremarkable. I am a pillar of dignity and—
Five seconds.
The prompt blinked away.
A new message appeared, bright and cheerful, as if the last thirty seconds hadn't been an exercise in mutual psychological warfare.
[First Minion Acquired. Try not to sneeze too loud in front of her.]
Yun Yi's brain stalled.
…What?
He blinked at the words, rereading them. The sarcasm hit him with the precision of a dagger to the ribs.
Oh, wonderful. The system has jokes now.
The message vanished. But in the real world, nothing else changed. The timer was gone, but his hand was still holding hers. Neither of them moved.
Lin Shan hadn't pulled away. She stood perfectly still, shoulders squared, her gaze locked on him. Her expression was unreadable beneath the mask, but her eyes were wide not with fear exactly, but with a potent mix of confusion, suspicion, and the professional tension of someone waiting for the other shoe to drop.
They were both waiting for the other to make the first move.
One second. Two. Three.
The silence deepened until it felt like a tangible object between them.
Yun Yi, still gripping her hand, slowly looked up from where his mental interface had been.
Their eyes met.
And there it was, the single most awkward stare-down in the history of the cultivation world.
No enemies clashing blades. No rivals trading sharp words. Just a city lord's son and his newly acquired minion, standing in a dead silent room, holding hands like the fate of the universe depended on it.
Neither of them spoke. Neither of them blinked.
And somewhere, deep in the hidden code of his system, Yun Yi swore he could almost hear laughter.