Chapter 24: Two People in One Courtyard, Three Meals a Day, Four Seasons
Time seems to have really slowed down in this forgotten farmyard, stretching out long and soft.
Under Su Qinghan's meticulous care, Shen Ye's wounds healed day by day, the new flesh itching slightly, a sign of life returning. Meanwhile, Su Qinghan's injuries, nurtured by Shen Ye's care and tranquility, gradually healed, a healthy blush finally appearing on his pale face.
This small courtyard became their isolated island from the world, and also their tacit home.
The daytime is divided into orderly sections by a silent tacit understanding.
In the early morning, just as the sky was beginning to turn pale, Shen Ye would rise. Unlike before, the first thing he did upon waking was not to check the surrounding security. Instead, he would go to the water tank and fill it with clear mountain spring water. Then, he would pick up the axe, which was too heavy for him, and walk to the corner of the yard.
“Crack!”
The dull, rhythmic sound of chopping wood would punctually serve as the morning bell waking up the courtyard. Su Qinghan would often listen to this steady, powerful sound, half asleep and half awake. There was no hint of murder in that voice, only the most simple sense of strength that belonged to life, which made her feel inexplicably at ease. She would open the window and see the tall man, shirtless, sweat running down his smooth muscles, gleaming with a healthy luster in the morning light. His chopping movements were as focused and efficient as his sword practice, as if each axe stroke had been carefully calculated, and the chopped wood was evenly sized and neatly stacked aside.
After washing up, Su Qinghan would spread out the herbs Chen Ye had gathered from the mountains, one by one, on the sun-warmed stone slab in the courtyard. She knew these herbs well; some could invigorate blood circulation and dissolve stasis, while others could soothe the mind. She wondered how he could distinguish between these complex herbs. Perhaps a top assassin must also be a master of pharmacology.
With her slender fingers, she carefully sorted the roots, stems, and leaves of the herbs, her movements gentle and focused. The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on her plain dress and her serious profile.
He chopped wood and she dried medicine.
One stood in the east of the courtyard, the other in the west. One expended his energy and sweat, the other immersed in tranquility and the aroma of medicinal herbs. They rarely spoke, rarely even looked at each other, yet the entire courtyard's aura felt complete and harmonious because of their presence. The air was strangely intertwined with the fragrance of pine wood and herbs, forming a unique atmosphere called "stability."
Lunch was always simple. Ever since that "kitchen disaster," Chen Ye's cooking skills had improved significantly under Su Qinghan's "remote guidance." He was still not good at speaking, but he poured all his heart into his three meals a day.
He would use freshly chopped wood to light a gentle fire and cook freshly washed rice into a pot of soft, glutinous, and sweet white porridge. Sometimes, he would fish out a few plump grouper from the cracks in the rocks of the mountain stream and steam them using the simplest method to preserve their pure flavor. And for the rabbits or pheasants he hunted in the forest, he learned to cook them using Su Qinghan's method, adding a few of her dried herbs, and the resulting broth was thick, white, and fragrant.
Every time, he would fill a bowl with food and bring it to Su Qinghan. She would take it, finish it silently, and then nod to him gently.
That nod was the highest praise for all his efforts. Shen Ye's always stern face would relax, and a glimmer of satisfaction would flicker in his eyes, one he himself hadn't noticed.
The afternoon is even more lazy.
Chen Ye would repair fences eroded by wind and rain, or reinforce loose eaves. He was incredibly skilled with his hands, and anything he touched would be as solid as new in a few seconds. Meanwhile, Su Qinghan would pull up a bamboo chair and sit under the eaves, either reading or resting his eyes.
Once, she was engrossed in reading an old medical book she'd found somewhere. A mountain breeze blew past, knocking one of her coats, which had been drying on a bamboo pole, to the ground. Just as she was about to get up, a shadowy figure was quicker than her.
Chen Ye picked up the pale blue coat and brushed off the dust. He stood before her, holding the garment, unsure of what to do. Should he hand it to her? Or hang it back up to dry? For a man accustomed to dealing with swords and weapons, a soft garment, still scented with a woman's fragrance, seemed a little too hot to handle.
Su Qinghan looked at his bewildered appearance and felt a burst of laughter in her heart. She stretched out her hand and said softly, "Give it to me."
Shen Ye handed her the clothes, and his fingertips accidentally touched her hand.
Her hands were cool and delicate like jade, while his hands, from years of holding a sword and recent hard work, were covered with a thin layer of calluses and scorching heat.
That brief, light touch was like a weak electric current, causing both of them to freeze at the same time.
Chen Ye quickly withdrew his hand, turned around, and walked away quickly, a hint of panic in his back that he couldn't hide. Su Qinghan stared blankly at her fingertips, where his scorching heat seemed to still linger. Her cheeks flushed uncontrollably.
The air in the courtyard seemed to become a little ambiguous because of this.
At night, when dusk falls and the chirping of insects in the mountains gradually rises, the courtyard will usher in the quietest moment of the day.
In the room, a dim oil lamp was lit, dispelling the darkness and creating a small, warm world.
Shen Ye would sit at the side of the table, taking out the soft animal hide and repeatedly polishing his short sword, Setsuna. Under the light, the blade shone like mercury, cold and deadly. But at this moment, under the man's focused and gentle movements, the weapon seemed to lose its murderous aura, becoming a work of art that needed to be carefully cared for.
Su Qinghan, on the other side of the table, had stopped reading those boring medical books and instead found a collection of poetry from somewhere. She read slowly, her delicate brows sometimes relaxed, sometimes furrowed. The light outlined her soft profile, and her long eyelashes cast a quiet shadow beneath her eyelids.
He polished his sword while she read.
One is immersed in the cold world of weapons, the other is wandering in the warm ocean of words.
The flame of the oil lamp would occasionally crackle, releasing a small spark. Apart from that, there was no other sound in the room. Yet, this silence was not awkward or dull; instead, it was filled with a strange harmony and perfection.
Their worlds were originally two extremes: one walking alone in the darkest shadows, the other struggling in bloody hatred. But at this moment, in this tiny space, under the light of a single lamp, their worlds strangely intersected and overlapped. There was no conflict, no exclusion, only a tranquility that was close to "home."
One night, the wind blew and the temperature dropped sharply.
Su Qinghan was half asleep when she felt something heavy on her body, as if something had covered her. She forced her eyes open and saw Chen Ye gently covering her with a thick bearskin mattress, his movements as gentle as if he were placing a rare treasure. After doing all this, he didn't pause, but returned to his simple wooden bed and lay down in his clothes.
Su Qinghan wrapped herself tightly around the bearskin, which smelled of sunshine and a hint of pine. A warm feeling spread from her limbs to her heart. She looked at the figure, whose back was turned away, as silent as a mountain, and her eyes suddenly felt warm.
This man never said anything sweet, and he was even reluctant to express a simple concern. But he would remember that she was afraid of the cold, and would silently cook the food softer, refill her cup of hot tea while she was reading, and would immediately pick up her clothes when they were blown off by the wind.
His goodness is hidden in these silent, clumsy, yet meticulous actions.
day to day.
They were like an ordinary couple who had been together for years, living a simple life of one yard, two people, three meals a day, four seasons a week. He farmed, she wove; he worked outside, she took care of the house. There were no vows of eternal love, but there was a tender warmth everywhere.
Su Qinghan found that it had been a long time since he had been awakened by the image of his father's tragic death in his dreams. The deep hatred seemed to be washed away by the plain warmth that continued day by day, becoming a little vague and distant.
She even began to feel dazed.
She would watch Shen Ye chopping wood in the yard, forgetting that he was a cold-blooded assassin with blood on his hands. She would drink the fish soup he cooked, forgetting that she was a Six-Door Divine Constable carrying a deep blood feud and walking on the edge of a knife.
At this moment, he was just Shen Ye, a man who would light fires, cook for her, chop wood and fetch water.
And she was just Su Qinghan, an ordinary woman who was taken care of by him and longed for this warmth.
If... if life could always go on like this, how great would that be?
This thought, like a quietly planted seed, took root and sprouted uncontrollably in the softest corner of her heart. She knew it was a luxury, a poison, but she couldn't resist and indulged in it.
This was the most peaceful and happiest time she had lived since her father passed away.
Hatred seemed to be temporarily diluted by this ordinary warmth. She even began to feel dazed, forgetting who she was and that he was a cold-blooded assassin. She only knew that when she saw him, her heart was at peace; when he looked at her, his eyes were warm.
That's enough. At least for now, it's enough.
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