"So," Song Meiyu began, her voice bright but serious as she balanced another dried plum between her fingers, "from what I gathered, the symptoms are different mostly because of cultivation. Regular folks who don't cultivate? They die within two or three days. Super fast."
Shen Zhenyu frowned. He didn't like the image, but said nothing.
Song Meiyu, blissfully unbothered, continued. "The disease starts in the lungs. First, it's just coughing and shortness of breath. Then it gets worse… blood, pain, and…" she paused dramatically, lowering her voice, "…you know. Death."
He Yuying raised one eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Ah yes. Step three: death. Very informative. I feel much better now. You should consider writing funeral poetry."
Song Meiyu waved the comment away. "And here's the really interesting part," she went on, her tone suddenly sharp. "It suppresses the meridians first. Slowly. Then, bam! Blocks them completely. That's why cultivators can hang on for a bit longer. They fight it off at first, but it just eats away at their energy little by little. For regular people… well, they don't really stand a chance."
A heavy silence settled over the group for a moment. Even He Yuying stopped chewing. Then, after a beat, he muttered under his breath, "You really know how to ruin a snack."
Linyue nodded thoughtfully, her calm eyes fixed on the dark horizon. That explained the strange timing they had been hearing about. "So," she asked, "is it contagious?"
Song Meiyu pursed her lips and tapped her chin. "Not likely. I checked a family of four. Three got the disease, one didn't. Guess which one? The one who's a middle-stage water cultivator. He's been taking care of his sick family up close, even feeding them, and he's still healthy."
He Yuying leaned over from his saddle, eyes narrowing. "So, either the disease avoids water cultivators… or it's scared of men who know how to make soup."
Linyue hid a quiet smile behind her hand. "That's still strange though. How did they catch the disease in the first place?"
Song Meiyu threw her head back with a sigh. "Exactly! That's what I don't get either. I even poked the family's chicken. It looked fine too."
Shen Zhenyu turned his head slowly to give her a very long, very tired stare. "You poked the chicken?"
"For science," Song Meiyu said with zero shame. Then she popped another dried plum into her mouth.
As they rode slowly under the quiet night sky, Song Meiyu leaned forward on her saddle. "And…" she said, eyes wide. "The people from richer families and the well-off ones mostly didn't catch the disease."
Linyue tilted her head. "Really?"
"Yep!" Song Meiyu nodded vigorously. "They all ran off to other villages the moment the Weeping Moon ended. Packed up and poof—gone! Even took their chamber pots, I think."
A heavy silence settled over the group again.
Shen Zhenyu's frown deepened.
He Yuying looked unimpressed. "So basically, the poor got sick. The rich didn't and run."
Song Meiyu suddenly perked up. "Oh! I'll call Master Yin Xue again!"
She took out her spirit transmission jade and began talking at full speed. "Master Yin Xue! I saw the village gate. It's old and squeaky! And the first house had this terrible creaking noise. And there's a well that's probably haunted but I didn't check because General Boyi kept giving me nervous looks. Oh! And the chicken! Still fine. I even poked it, just in case!"
The other three sat on their horses in heavy, resigned silence, staring up at the night sky. The stars blinked calmly above them, blissfully unaware of the nonsense unfolding below.
Linyue sat quietly on her horse, the night breeze brushing past her. Her thoughts drifted to what Shu Mingye had said earlier.
"Pie, come back or I'll kiss you."
She let out a long sigh. Would he really kiss her? Shu Mingye wasn't known for empty words. His threats tended to turn into promises. And if she were being honest… she didn't mind it. She had to admit that she liked it. She wasn't sure at first. But now? She kind of expected it. Looked forward to it even. Just a little.
Behind her, Shen Zhenyu's voice suddenly broke through her very private internal drama.
"Linyue," he said, calm but with a hint of suspicion, "are you close to Shu Mingye?"
Linyue snapped out of her thoughts. She turned and nodded slowly.
Shen Zhenyu's voice sharpened. "Since when?"
Linyue thought for a moment, then smiled, eyes twinkling. "Hmm… after I napped for five days straight?"
Shen Zhenyu frowned. "So, do you like him?"
Linyue looked up at the stars, thought deeply for two seconds, then answered without hesitation. "Yes."
Shen Zhenyu's frown deepened so much it was starting to look like a permanent feature of his face. His voice low and serious. "Linyue, you know what kind of man Shu Mingye is. I know he likes you… for now. But have you thought about what might happen if one day he has a change of heart?"
"Then I'll poke his eyes," she answered confidently with a smile.
Shen Zhenyu let out a deep sigh, lips twitching. "Alright," he said. "I'll help you do it."
Linyue's smile softened. She knew what he really meant. He wasn't angry. He wasn't judging. He was worried, like always. Shen Zhenyu wasn't just a teammate. He was like a serious-faced older brother, a half-silent nanny, and their official emotional support swordman. He rarely smiled. Rarely spoke unless needed. But whenever she, Song Meiyu, or He Yuying needed something—even an eye-poking backup plan—he was always there. Offering quiet support, disapproving looks, and possibly snacks.
She glanced at him again. "You're the best, Brother Zhenyu."
He grunted and looked away, though a suspicious twitch tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The journey back to the palace was quiet except for Song Meiyu, of course. She was still happily chattering into her spirit transmission jade, giving Master Yin Xue a full "scientific" report. Not just about the disease, but also about He Yuying's failed attempt to kick open the village gate, the creaky haunted floorboards, and a very suspicious chicken that looked at her the wrong way.
The others didn't interrupt her. They just rode in peaceful silence, admiring the night sky above. The stars were bright, scattered like tiny lanterns, and for a moment, it almost felt like the world had slowed down.
When they finally reached the palace, the group dismounted their horses in perfect silence. Not because they were disciplined, but because they were too tired to complain anymore. Without even thinking about it, their feet carried them toward Linyue's chamber. Somehow, without anyone officially deciding it, her chamber had become their hangout spot. Or their secret base. Or their emergency gossip center. Possibly all three.
The palace, however, was far from the peaceful retreat they were hoping for. Unlike the calm, almost ghostly-silent streets they had passed outside, the inner palace was alive with chaos. Palace physicians sprinted past them with wild eyes, arms piled high with scrolls, herbs, and bubbling concoctions. One man, looking like he hadn't slept for days, carried a book on his head like a tray while dodging a servant with a platter of dried mushrooms. Another physician was muttering under his breath about "reverse spiritual energy flow syndrome" as he waved his hands in vague, mysterious gestures. Clearly, everyone was working themselves into the ground trying to find the source and cure of the strange disease.
Linyue's sharp eyes swept over the scene as they passed. A disease that attacked the lungs sounded deceptively simple. But if no one could find whether the cause was poison, bad air, tainted water, or even a cursed chicken, then curing it would be like shooting an arrow into darkness. Still, she felt strangely calm. Maybe it was because her little chaos team was right here.
She swung the door to her chamber open. The others shuffled in behind her one by one, dropping onto chairs.
Shen Zhenyu sank into the nearest chair with a faint sigh.
He Yuying, on the other hand, didn't even bother with proper seating etiquette. He sprawled sideways across two chairs at once, arms dangling, head tipped back.
Song Meiyu didn't aim for a chair at all. She flopped onto the rug, clutching her half-empty bag of dried plums.
Meanwhile, Linyue quietly prepared tea, her sleeves barely rustling. Her voice calm as she asked, "So… what did Master Yin Xue say?"