51. Nagatomo (Ninth Poem)

"He's also lingering on your soft couch, refusing to leave?"

"You're awake?" Ran Qinghe glanced at Lou Tinglan lying on the bed with annoyance. Seeing that he had finally woken up, she said coldly, "Since you're awake, leave quickly."

Lou Tinglan propped herself up on her arms and sat on the edge of the couch. Her lips were still pale, but there was a faint smile on her lips. "Okay."

He agreed in a deep voice, his voice hoarse from the injury, yet it carried a strange gentleness.

Just as he got off the bed, his body swayed suddenly again. He groaned, clutched his chest, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. His breathing became rapid.

Ran Qinghe wondered why Lou Tinglan was still so weak and frail, even though she had already expelled the resentment from his body.

She knew perfectly well that Lou Tinglan must have infiltrated the Tower of Babel again, which was why he had attracted so much resentment.

Although he tried to suppress his resentment into his dantian and conceal the matter, he could not fool her. Her body was extremely sensitive to spiritual energy and resentment, and even a trace of resentment that he accidentally leaked was enough for her to detect.

However, the only thing she didn't understand was why Lou Tinglan repeatedly entered the Tower of Babel. What was inside that made him risk his life again and again?

Seeing him slowly and deliberately move towards the door, his back revealing an undeniable vulnerability, she finally couldn't hold back and blurted out just as his hand was about to touch the door:

"never mind."

Lou Tinglan paused, but did not turn around immediately.

Ran Qinghe turned her face away from him, her tone stiff and annoyed: "You should rest here first. Senior Brother Lou is so highly regarded by the elders, if something happens to him here, I can't bear the responsibility."

Lou Tinglan slowly turned around, his glassy eyes looking at her, a faint light seemingly flickering within them: "Thank you."

He spoke in a low voice, still hoarse, but seemingly with a faint hint of a smile.

He sat back down on the edge of the tatami mat and couldn't help but cough softly twice. "Could I have a glass of water?"

Ran Qinghe asked incredulously, "You want more water?"

Lou Tinglan explained earnestly, "I haven't ascended to become an immortal yet." Naturally, he needs to drink water. However, he tactfully left the second half of his sentence unsaid.

Ran Qinghe: ...

With a cold expression, she poured a cup of tea, walked over, and handed it to him: "Here, drink this."

Lou Tinglan looked up at her, but instead of taking the cup immediately, she gently grasped the wrist of the woman holding the water glass.

His fingertips were icy cold, weak and powerless from the injury, but the sensation was exceptionally clear, like a snowflake falling on his wrist, stirring a subtle shiver.

"My hands are still a bit weak." He looked at her, his eyes honest, even with a hint of helpless vulnerability. "Thank you for your trouble."

Ran Qinghe's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to shake off his hand, but when she met his pale face, the question on her lips was swallowed back. In the stalemate, she could clearly feel the coolness of his fingertips seeping into her skin little by little.

"Too much trouble." She only complained in the end, but did not pull her hand away. Instead, she carefully handed the water glass to his lips, taking advantage of his gentle grip on her wrist.

Lou Tinglan obediently lowered his head slightly and took small sips from her hand. His breath brushed against her fingers, warm and moist.

After feeding her the water, she quickly withdrew her hand, but Lou Tinglan, as if unintentionally, lightly brushed his fingertips against the soft skin inside her wrist, sending a tingling sensation through her. Only then did he release her hand, as if it had truly been an unintentional action.

Ran Qinghe abruptly withdrew her hand, the faint trace of that caress still lingering on her wrist. She forced herself to remain calm, but a hint of panic crept into her voice as she changed the subject, saying, "Why...why do you keep running to the Tower of Babel?"

Lou Tinglan leaned back on the couch, his eyes slightly closed, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows on his pale cheeks. He downplayed the issue, saying, "It's nothing, just some things that had to be dealt with."

He paused, then, as if testing the waters, asked softly, "Are you bothered by it?"

Whether she answers "I care" or "I don't care," she seems to care about this question.

The room fell silent for a moment, with only the soft breathing of the two of them remaining. The restlessness in Ran Qinghe's heart gradually subsided, leaving only a cooler calm.

She deliberately ignored the ambiguity in her words, simply raising her eyes slightly and replying in a steady voice, "It's just a greeting between fellow disciples."

She subtly distanced herself from him again, letting her wrist, which he had just touched, hang casually at her side.

“The path of cultivation is long, and it would be a pity to be ruined by unnecessary risks.” Her voice was devoid of any emotion. “Since Senior Brother Lou wants to rest here, please make yourself at home. I need to meditate and regulate my breathing. Excuse me.”

After saying that, she turned and went to the inner room, where she sat cross-legged on the bed.

She appeared to be completely meditative, but her mind was not entirely at peace. She could clearly sense Lou Tinglan's disordered breathing, but she still did not ask any more questions.

Lou Tinglan leaned back on the couch, a faint trace of helplessness and self-mockery flashing deep in his eyes. He was indeed weak, forcibly suppressing the resentment tainted within the Tower of Babel. At this moment, his internal organs felt as if they were being torn apart.

At the same time, he knew she had noticed, and the resentment in his body was once again completely expelled. She was always like this, cold on the outside but soft on the inside.

As for the Tower of Babel, he did not intend to hide it, but... even he himself had not yet figured it out.

He silently circulated his spiritual power. Although the resentment had disappeared, certain emotions in his heart were still amplified invisibly.

I don't know how much time passed, but the sky outside the window gradually darkened, and it was already dusk.

Ran Qinghe opened her eyes, her gaze clear and bright, showing no sign of fatigue. She got up, walked to the table, poured herself another cup of tea, and took out a calming pill that she had refined herself.

She walked to Lou Tinglan's bedside. He was not asleep; he had only closed his eyes and was pretending to sleep. His face was still terribly pale.

"Have some water." She handed over the teacup, her tone flat as if she were performing a routine task.

Lou Tinglan opened his eyes, reached out his hand, and this time, he steadily caught the water cup, his fingertips inevitably brushing against hers lightly. He didn't say anything about "not being able to exert any strength," but simply swallowed the pill with the water.

"Thank you." Lou Tinglan stared into her eyes, then suddenly called her name again.

"Ran Qinghe." His voice was soft, yet it sounded exceptionally clear in the room as dusk settled.

"The spirit within that wooden hairpin is not meant to monitor your actions."

She was quite taken aback, genuinely not understanding the origin of the word, so she simply repeated, "Surveillance?"

The spirit within that wooden hairpin wasn't meant for protection, so how could it possibly be used for surveillance?

However, Lou Tinglan thought she was angry and asked her question on purpose. She explained somewhat helplessly, "There is indeed a technique in the Discipline Hall to separate a wisp of the soul for tracking, but I have no such intention and have never thought of confirming your location through the soul."

Ran Qinghe: The soul can actually have such an effect?!

She continued calmly, "So?"

Lou Tinglan explained, "Your spiritual energy surged earlier, so if your spiritual energy gets out of control, this can help you temporarily channel it."

He pulled the wooden hairpin out of his sleeve again. "I have severed my connection with this wisp of spirit. You don't need to worry that it will become a tracking talisman I placed on you..."

She then realized that Lou Tinglan had completely misunderstood.

In his view, she was disgusted by his use of his soul to track her location, which was why she suddenly distanced herself from him and ignored him.

But she was not like that.

The severing of one's soul was not as easy as he made it sound; it required enduring excruciating pain, like being torn apart by bones. He had even severed a wisp of his soul simply because of her indifference.

"Lou Tinglan," she heard her own voice, trembling slightly with disbelief, and couldn't help but ask, "Are you crazy?"

For a possible misunderstanding, for her insignificant "concern", she went to such lengths.

Lou Tinglan was slightly taken aback at first, but then his gaze lingered on her face. "I just..."

He was halfway through his sentence when he realized he didn't know what to say next.

Ran Qinghe turned her face away, avoiding his overly focused gaze. Her heart was beating erratically, not because of the ambiguity, but because of a deeper feeling, a mixture of shock, anger, and... a heartache that she herself was unwilling to admit.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

“I have no suspicion that you are spying on me.” She spoke again, her voice now devoid of its previous coldness. “I also never thought that the wooden hairpin was a tracking talisman.”

She reached out her hand, but instead of taking the wooden hairpin, she gently pushed it back to his side.

"Such a valuable item is beyond my means. Senior Brother Lou, you should keep it yourself."

Her refusal was clear and decisive, with a resolute determination to draw a clear line.

Lou Tinglan's eyes dimmed slightly, and his fingers tightened around the wooden hairpin, his knuckles turning white. He had thought that clearing up the misunderstanding would ease the tension, but he hadn't expected it to lead to an even more complete estrangement.

The hall door was suddenly pushed open excitedly, followed by a shout of "I'm back!"

Shui Rong'er stepped through the door, but the first thing she saw was Lou Tinglan sitting on the soft couch. She went back to the courtyard gate to confirm that it was indeed Ran Qinghe's nameplate before stepping in again.

She always spoke frankly, "Is Lou Tinglan also lingering on your soft couch and refusing to leave?"

In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere in the room froze after just one sentence.

Ran Qinghe: ...

Lou Tinglan bowed politely and said, "Greetings, Junior Sister Shui. I apologize for overstepping my bounds." He forced himself to put the hairpin back and bid farewell to the two of them.

After he left, the air seemed to freeze. Ran Qinghe stood there, her gaze fixed on the soft couch where he had just been sitting, where his presence still seemed to linger.

"Something's not right with you." Shui Rong'er leaned closer, tilting her head to examine her, a look of sudden realization mixed with mischief on her face. "Oh, could it be that you two..."

Ran Qinghe quickly interrupted her, saying, "No, he's just resting here for a while because he's exhausted his spiritual energy. Didn't you say you were going to check if Fu Ji was dead? Why are you back so early today?"

Seeing that she was unwilling to talk more, Shui Rong'er pursed her lips and said, "Of course it's because he's not dead, but his face is as black as if he's been soaking in some ditch."

Ran Qinghe listened absentmindedly, then suddenly spoke again, "Do you know what the consequences would be if the soul were forcibly severed by a technique that separates the soul from the spirit?"