As the door opened, a blast of hot air hit Zhou Jiayu.

The wind was scalding, searing the skin, unbearable for most. But Zhou Jiayu’s unique constitution spared him discomfort. He stepped slowly into the house, sensing the temperature was unnaturally high, the air warping with heat.

“Sir?” Zhou Jiayu called softly for Lin Zhushui. He’d been to Lin Zhushui’s residence before but wasn’t familiar with its layout, knowing only that it had multiple floors with unclear purposes.

“Sir…” Calling out, he headed for the stairs, recalling the third floor housed Lin Zhushui’s bedroom from a past visit for tattoo embroidery, though unsure which room.

“Sir!” Zhou Jiayu shouted as he moved, noticing drastic changes in the decor. Every corner held small talisman arrays, centered with jade stones and flanked by bright yellow cinnabar talismans. Approaching them, he felt wisps of cold, but they were a drop in the bucket against the house’s heat. Anxiety mounting, he raced up to the third floor, calling nonstop.

The house offered no reply, steeped in eerie silence, the rising temperature screaming that Lin Zhushui was in grave trouble.

Luckily, Zhou Jiayu’s constitution proved vital. The higher he climbed, the denser the fiery aura, until the third floor’s corridor was shrouded in red, flame-like mist, obscuring the path.

“Sir, Sir!” Certain Lin Zhushui was here, Zhou Jiayu groped forward, checking each room meticulously, terrified of missing him.

Finally, at the corridor’s end, he found his target in the master bedroom.

“Sir!” The door ajar, Zhou Jiayu pushed it open to see Lin Zhushui slumped by the window, wreathed in searing red mist, so hot it seemed ready to ignite. His eyes were half-closed, seemingly unconscious, unresponsive to Zhou Jiayu’s loud calls.

Zhou Jiayu’s heart clenched. He rushed in, knelt beside Lin Zhushui, and propped him up. “Sir, Sir, what’s wrong?”

Lin Zhushui’s body was limp, stirring faintly at Zhou Jiayu’s touch. His long lashes quivered, and he whispered, “Hot…”

Seeing Lin Zhushui so frail, Zhou Jiayu nearly panicked. In a flash of desperation, he recalled their time at Sheshan, when his own chill was eased by Lin Zhushui’s blood. If his extreme yin constitution helped then, his blood might aid Lin Zhushui now. Scanning the room, he spotted what he needed. Gently laying Lin Zhushui down, he darted to a corner, smashed a decorative porcelain vase, and picked up a shard.

“Sir.” Zhou Jiayu climbed onto the bed, cradling Lin Zhushui. Gripping the shard, he sliced his arm.

The sharp porcelain tore skin, blood welling instantly. Zhou Jiayu held Lin Zhushui with one hand, guiding the blood to his mouth with the other.

An unconscious person shouldn’t swallow easily, but Zhou Jiayu’s blood seemed to draw Lin Zhushui instinctively. His lips parted, and he began swallowing unconsciously.

“Mmm…” Zhou Jiayu felt Lin Zhushui’s scorching lips suck at his arm, his tongue occasionally brushing the wound. Amid the pain, an odd itch crept in, eliciting a soft hum from Zhou Jiayu.

His blood proved potent. As Lin Zhushui swallowed, the fiery mist around him thinned, and the temperature dropped.

Worried it wasn’t enough, Zhou Jiayu cut another gash, feeding him again.

After more blood, Lin Zhushui’s eyes fluttered open. Zhou Jiayu saw they glowed a vivid red, a stark contrast to his usual ascetic demeanor, lending him an alluring, almost demonic charm.

“Sir!” Thinking he was regaining consciousness, Zhou Jiayu exclaimed, “Are you feeling better? If it’s not enough, I’ll give more.”

Lin Zhushui’s eyes drooped, exuding cold indifference. Propped in Zhou Jiayu’s arms, he braced himself and sat up slowly.

Zhou Jiayu watched, puzzled by his actions.

Silent, Lin Zhushui reached out, startling Zhou Jiayu as his fingers pressed against his lips, thumb rubbing heavily.

“Sir?” Zhou Jiayu flinched, reflexively pulling back.

The retreat seemed to anger Lin Zhushui. His other hand clamped Zhou Jiayu’s nape, forbidding further movement.

Fear gripped Zhou Jiayu. Lin Zhushui’s gaze held a ruthless edge, devoid of his usual gentle smile. He radiated a beastly aura, reason stripped away, leaving primal instinct.

“Sir…” Zhou Jiayu’s voice trembled.

Lin Zhushui said nothing, fixating on Zhou Jiayu’s quivering lips. Then, he leaned in.

“Mmph!” Their lips met, Zhou Jiayu’s eyes widening in disbelief. His first instinct was to push away, but Lin Zhushui anticipated it, easily pinning both his hands with one.

It was a rough kiss, less a kiss than an unconscious demand. Zhou Jiayu felt oxygen drain, his head spinning, struggling to process the moment.

He was kissing Lin Zhushui—or rather, Lin Zhushui was kissing him.

As the reality sank in, Zhou Jiayu’s initial fear faded. Blood rushed to his head, and his resisting hands softened, resting lightly on Lin Zhushui’s shoulders.

So… so happy, Zhou Jiayu thought dazedly. He felt Lin Zhushui nibble his lower lip, gentle and cautious.

Was this joy? Zhou Jiayu felt strength ebb from his body, mistaking it for bliss until Ji Ba’s voice blared: “Breathe, Zhou Jiayu, breathe—you’re suffocating yourself!” Ji Ba’s frantic, rare curse showed its urgency.

Gasping, Zhou Jiayu sucked in air, the weakness easing as oxygen returned.

Not joy, but near-death from lack of air, Zhou Jiayu thought miserably. For a first kiss, his inexperience was mortifying. Tears welled from oxygen deprivation, spilling down his cheeks.

Lin Zhushui, gazing down, gently wiped them away with his thumb.

“Sir,” Zhou Jiayu whispered.

Lin Zhushui remained silent. His earlier frenzy had subsided, his crimson eyes fading back to the pure black Zhou Jiayu knew.

“Sir?” Thinking he was recovering, Zhou Jiayu didn’t expect Lin Zhushui to close his eyes and slump onto his shoulder, asleep. His breathing steadied, his face etched with exhaustion, the prior heat clearly having drained him.

Caught off guard by Lin Zhushui’s sudden sleep, Zhou Jiayu hesitated, then carefully laid him on the bed. He bolted downstairs, rushing out to the anxiously waiting Lin Jue and others.

Lin Po had come too. He stood beside Lin Jue and hurriedly asked when he saw Zhou Jiayu rush out, “How is it?”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “The Yang energy has been temporarily suppressed. Sir is asleep now, but I don’t know where the formation went wrong.”

“I’ll go in and check with you,” Lin Jue said immediately.

Zhou Jiayu nodded.

Lin Po also wanted to follow, but Lin Jue stopped him, telling him to stay outside and keep watch in case something happened so he could react in time. Lin Po could only reluctantly agree.

Lin Jue pulled Zhou Jiayu inside. Zhou Jiayu, afraid she’d see the wound on his hand, kept his right hand hidden behind his back. But as soon as they entered, Lin Jue noticed. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbed Zhou Jiayu’s arm. After carefully checking and confirming that the wound wasn’t too serious, she said, “When we’re done here, I’ll help you take care of this wound.” She sighed softly, then solemnly said, “Jiayu, thank you. This is a debt the Lin family owes you.”

Zhou Jiayu shook his head. “You’re being too polite, Shibo. If not for Sir… I might have been in trouble a long time ago.”

Lin Jue shook her head, as if wanting to say something more, but in the end, she let the matter drop. After asking about Lin Zhushui’s condition, she led Zhou Jiayu straight to the back of the house.

Following Lin Jue all the way, Zhou Jiayu finally realized that there was actually a backyard here. It was beautifully designed—with rocks, flowing water, pavilions, and corridors—like a miniature Jiangnan garden.

In the middle of the backyard was an open space, where a large formation was drawn on the ground. At its center lay a piece of jade.

This jade was probably the formation’s core. But when Lin Jue and Zhou Jiayu got closer, they saw a huge crack running through it. Fine cracks spread from the main fracture deep into the stone. Even someone like Zhou Jiayu, who knew nothing about jade, could tell this piece was ruined.

“How could this happen?!” Lin Jue’s expression changed dramatically. She immediately took out her phone and called Lin Po. “Where’s the spare jade? Bring it over right away. Yes, quickly!”

Zhou Jiayu stepped forward and touched the jade, finding it surprisingly hot—almost burning. Startled, he said, “This jade is warm.”

“Maybe the stone itself was defective…” Lin Jue said uncertainly. Though the jade had been bought by Shen Musi, every piece was always checked by Lin Zhushui personally. Defective jade like this should never have made it into the formation. But right now, nothing could be confirmed. Lin Jue was only guessing.

Lin Po moved quickly—within five or six minutes, someone was pushing the spare jade over. When he saw the damaged jade inside the formation, he also looked shocked. “How did this happen—”

“I don’t know either,” Lin Jue said. “Let’s fix the formation first. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Lin Po nodded.

Shen Yiqiong and the others came in with him. They worked together to replace the jade in the formation, after which Lin Jue restarted the formation.

As the formation reactivated, Zhou Jiayu clearly felt a cold aura rise from within.

“Come on, let’s go, hurry.” Lin Jue called out, and everyone quickly left the small building before the formation fully activated.

After the jade was replaced, the effect seemed much better. Zhou Jiayu saw the flames around the house diminish considerably, while that refreshing coolness began to spread from the house again.

Seeing this, Lin Jue finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on, Jiayu, let’s get that wound of yours taken care of.”

Only then did the others notice Zhou Jiayu’s injured hand. Since it had been cut by a porcelain shard, the wound looked quite nasty—skin peeled back, red flesh visible underneath. Shen Yiqiong quickly fetched medical supplies and watched as Lin Jue disinfected the wound.

“We’ll stop the bleeding for now, but you need stitches at the hospital,” Lin Jue said. “You cut it with porcelain?”

Zhou Jiayu nodded. “From the shard in the corner of Sir’s inner room…”

Lin Jue sighed. “Actually…”

“Hm?” Zhou Jiayu prompted.

“Well… you…” Lin Jue seemed embarrassed, hesitating for a moment before quietly saying, “Actually, any liquid would’ve worked.”

Zhou Jiayu stared blankly at her, not immediately grasping what she meant.

Seeing his confused expression, Lin Jue painfully clarified, “In the end… you two kissed, right?”

Fortunately, there were only the two of them in the room. The others were either tending to Lin Zhushui or busy elsewhere; otherwise, Zhou Jiayu surely would’ve exploded on the spot. Even so, when he heard Lin Jue’s words, his face turned bright red. He opened his mouth to deny it, but Lin Jue pointed at his lips. “They’re swollen.”

“…” Zhou Jiayu touched his lips and found they really were swollen, with a tear at the lower lip. Luckily, everyone’s attention had been on his hand earlier—or they’d definitely have noticed.

“I… I wasn’t trying to take advantage of Sir, I swear!” Zhou Jiayu stammered. “I really didn’t mean to—”

Lin Jue looked at him, amused and exasperated, thinking: I know you didn’t. You’re so timid—even if someone wanted to take advantage of you, you’d probably panic. How could you possibly take advantage of anyone else?

“But Sir was half-unconscious, and he’s so strong… I couldn’t push him away.” Exposed so thoroughly, Zhou Jiayu panicked. “Shibo, please don’t tell Sir. I’m afraid he’ll get angry.”

Lin Jue’s eyes filled with affection, like a mother-in-law gazing at her silly, shy daughter-in-law. She said gently, “Alright, I won’t tell. But, my dear Jiayu, have you ever wondered why—of all his disciples—Zhushui treats you so differently?”

Zhou Jiayu answered without thinking, “Because he feels cooler near me?”

“…” Lin Jue was speechless for a moment. That actually sounds… like the right answer. She sighed. “You’ve never been in a relationship, have you?”

Zhou Jiayu looked away awkwardly.

“Zhushui hasn’t either,” Lin Jue whispered.

Zhou Jiayu froze.

Looking at Zhou Jiayu’s stunned expression, Lin Jue suddenly felt that early romance might not be such a bad thing after all. Like gaining some experience before the final boss fight, so one wouldn’t be completely lost when the time came—not knowing what gear to equip… Of course, this applied just as much to Lin Zhushui. Observing Zhou Jiayu’s expression, Lin Jue finally decided not to tease this adorable ‘child bride’ anymore. The poor thing was injured; she couldn’t bear to bully him further. After this summer passed, she’d sit her foolish son down for a proper talk.

Even so, Lin Jue didn’t give up entirely. She took a different approach, saying that Lin Zhushui would need care, hoping Zhou Jiayu could shoulder this responsibility.

“After the formation is repaired, can I enter Sir’s courtyard?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Lin Jue nodded. “Yes. The repaired formation won’t be as effective as before, but it should barely get Zhushui through the summer. I’ll give you some talismans—keep them on you and you should be fine.”

Zhou Jiayu happily agreed, glad he could help care for Lin Zhushui.

“Let’s go. We need to get to the hospital,” Lin Jue said after bandaging Zhou Jiayu’s hand.

It was only then that Zhou Jiayu remembered his wounded arm; during their earlier conversation, he’d felt no pain at all, but now the wounds burned fiercely.

At the hospital, both wounds required four stitches each. Zhou Jiayu thought it was no big deal—just minor injuries.

But when they got home, the others forbade him from entering the kitchen. Shen Yiqiong rolled up his sleeves, declaring he’d make chicken soup for Zhou Jiayu, only to be mercilessly stopped by Lin Jue.

“I’ll just order delivery,” said Lin Jue. “I’m afraid if Guan’er drinks your chicken soup, he might never get up again.”

Shen Yiqiong muttered, “Is it really that bad?”

Beside him, Shen Musi gave him a please shut up look. Later, Zhou Jiayu finally found out why: Shen Yiqiong had once made chicken soup and tossed in an entire whole chicken—organs, guts, and all. Naturally, the intestines were still filled with chicken droppings… One could only imagine the taste of such a brew.

At the mention of chicken soup, all three people in the room wore expressions of horror, as if recalling a traumatic past—except Shen Yiqiong, who still tried to defend himself, saying he now knew what went wrong and could make a vastly improved version next time.

Of course, that was just talk. When the delivery Lin Jue ordered arrived, Shen Yiqiong dashed over to grab it faster than anyone else.

Out of concern for Zhou Jiayu’s injured hand, Lin Jue had specially ordered black fish soup. As Zhou Jiayu was sipping it, his phone suddenly rang. When he picked it up and looked at the screen, he was surprised—it was Lin Zhushui’s number.

“It’s from my teacher,” Zhou Jiayu said in surprise. “This is the first time he’s ever called me.” He felt oddly flattered. “Is he awake?”

“Answer it,” Lin Jue told him. “See what he wants.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded and pressed the call button.

“Zhou Jiayu.” Lin Zhushui’s low voice came through the receiver. He sounded like he had just woken up, his tone carrying a sleepy, husky depth that made him sound unusually seductive.

“Teacher,” Zhou Jiayu answered.

“Where are you?” Lin Zhushui asked.

Zhou Jiayu blinked. “I’m eating. Teacher, are you hungry? I can make you some porridge and bring it over, okay?”

There was a pause on the other end before Lin Zhushui spoke words that caught Zhou Jiayu completely off guard: “I don’t want porridge. I want you.” Another pause. “Come here.”

As soon as Zhou Jiayu heard this, his ears turned red. He tried to stay calm and gave a quiet “Mm” before hanging up and standing. “Teacher’s awake. He wants me to go over.”

Lin Jue watched him with warm eyes and gently urged, “Go on, don’t worry about anything else.”

Zhou Jiayu was startled by Lin Jue’s expression. “Shibo… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lin Jue said with a soft smile. “Just very happy.”

Zhou Jiayu: “???”

Lin Jue said, “Wait a minute. I’ll get you some talismans to carry with you.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded obediently.

Everyone else in the room was clearly confused by this exchange but had the good sense not to ask. Even the usually dense Shen Yiqiong opened his mouth and then wisely shut it again.

A moment later, Zhou Jiayu left with the talismans Lin Jue gave him, practically bouncing with joy on the way to Lin Zhushui’s residence.

He went straight to the third floor and found Lin Zhushui sitting by the bed in the same room as before. Lin Zhushui had his eyes closed, but he clearly sensed Zhou Jiayu’s approach and softly called out, “Zhou Jiayu.”

Zhou Jiayu tensed up again. He took a deep breath to calm himself and slowly stepped into the room. “Teacher.”

“Come here,” Lin Zhushui beckoned him.

Zhou Jiayu walked over and sat down at the edge of the bed.

Lin Zhushui reached out and gently took Zhou Jiayu’s wrist. “Did I drink your blood?” he asked.

The wound on Zhou Jiayu’s arm was still there; clearly, there was no hiding this. With no other choice, Zhou Jiayu nodded.

“Does it hurt?” Lin Zhushui asked.

Of course it hurt—it was flesh and blood, after all. But with Lin Zhushui holding his hand like this, it somehow didn’t seem to hurt anymore. Zhou Jiayu suddenly remembered something he’d once heard: Love can make a person low, low to the ground, but in their heart they are joyful, and from the dust, flowers bloom. In this moment, he completely understood that feeling. He felt like he’d do anything Lin Zhushui asked—even if he asked for his life, Zhou Jiayu would gladly give it.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Zhushui seemed a little flustered at Zhou Jiayu’s silence—an emotion he rarely showed. “Does it hurt badly? Did they treat it properly? Is it serious?”

Zhou Jiayu shook his head and softly said, “Teacher, it doesn’t hurt.”

Lin Zhushui’s expression softened. “How could it not hurt?” he murmured. His fingertips gently touched the bandaged area—so light, so careful. He had smelled the scent of medicine and blood the moment Zhou Jiayu stepped into the room; there were two wounds.

“Zhou Jiayu,” Lin Zhushui said, “thank you.”

Zhou Jiayu’s eyes curved in a bright smile. “Teacher, you’re too polite. I’d willingly do anything for you.”

---

Author’s Note:
That line about blooming in the dust is originally from Zhang Ailing.

As for the “car” (romantic scene), let’s wait until it’s fully mutual. For now, here’s a little tricycle for you to enjoy. The author happily rode a tricycle around in circles.