Zhao Yanran stood at the door, bathed in moonlight, which cast a faint silver glow over her.
She glanced back at Chen Yang, her eyes filled with complex emotions, as if she wanted to say something. In the end, she merely sighed softly and turned to leave.
Just as she lifted her foot, her body suddenly trembled, and she staggered, almost falling.
Chen Yang instinctively reached out to support her, but was shocked when he touched her arm.
Zhao Yanran's body was frighteningly hot, and beneath her skin, crimson markings could be seen faintly moving, like living creatures.
"What's wrong?" Chen Yang quickly steadied her, noticing her rapid breathing and the fine beads of sweat on her forehead.
Zhao Yanran barely managed to stand, her voice weak, "It's nothing... just the residual poison of the Love Curse acting up occasionally..."
Before she could finish, a small silver bell at her waist rang out sharply without any wind, its clear sound piercing the silent night.
It seemed to be urgently summoning something.
In just a moment, a figure swiftly approached from afar, moving so fast it left only a trail of afterimages.
It was none other than Senior Brother Yang, Yang Tianming.
His expression was stern, and he immediately recognized Zhao Yanran's condition.
"The Love Curse is acting up again?" He pulled Zhao Yanran from Chen Yang's arms, his tone severe, "Didn't I tell you to rest and avoid emotional disturbances during this time?"
Zhao Yanran leaned weakly against his shoulder, her face flushed, her breathing increasingly rapid, unable to speak.
Yang Tianming cast a cold glance at Chen Yang, his gaze as sharp as a knife, "What did you say to her?"
Before Chen Yang could respond, he had already picked Zhao Yanran up and strode towards Chen Yang's simple bedroom.
Kicking the door open, he placed Zhao Yanran on the crude wooden bed and turned to Chen Yang, shouting, "Get out! I need to detoxify Yanran."
Chen Yang stood his ground, his fists clenched, "She's my wife, why can't I..."
"Wife?" Yang Tianming sneered, waving his sleeve as a surge of powerful spiritual power burst forth, "A mere servant dares to say such things?"
Chen Yang felt a massive force slam into his chest, sending him flying uncontrollably, landing heavily in the muddy courtyard.
The door slammed shut in front of him with a bang, even reinforced with a soundproofing array, simple yet sufficient to block the prying of a first-level Qi Refining cultivator.
Chen Yang struggled to get up, his chest tight with discomfort.
The gap between the seventh and first levels of Qi Refining was starkly evident at this moment.
With just a casual wave, he was left powerless to resist.
He stood in the courtyard, staring at the tightly closed door. Though he couldn't hear the sounds inside, he could see the shadows of figures moving against the window paper.
The feeling of helpless humiliation surged in his heart once more, stronger than ever.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash from inside, like the sound of the wooden bed collapsing.
Chen Yang's heart tightened, and he couldn't help but move closer to the window, peering through the cracks.
He saw the wooden bed he had slept on for months now shattered into pieces, Zhao Yanran pressed beneath Yang Tianming on the remaining bed boards, their clothes in disarray, Yang Tianming's hands roaming over her body.
Zhao Yanran's face was flushed, her eyes dazed, as if in pain yet also in pleasure, soft murmurs escaping her lips.
Chen Yang staggered back a step, his heart wrenching in agony.
He crouched down, covering his ears tightly, unwilling to hear any more.
But the soundproofing array was not perfect, allowing faint sounds to leak through, each tiny noise like a blade slicing into his heart.
Time passed excruciatingly slowly, each moment an ordeal.
Chen Yang crouched in the courtyard, burying his head in his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He hated his own powerlessness, hated this cruel world, and hated even more the woman who had once sworn eternal love with him, now entwined with another on his bed.
He didn't know how much time had passed when the door finally creaked open.
Chen Yang looked up to see Yang Tianming stepping out first, his clothes slightly disheveled, but his expression satisfied.
Zhao Yanran followed behind him, her face still flushed, her hair a bit messy. Though her clothes had been tidied, the previous disarray was still evident.
Most glaring was her awkward gait and the noticeable red marks on her neck.
Yang Tianming glanced at Chen Yang, a mocking smile on his lips, as if looking at an insignificant ant.
He wrapped an arm around Zhao Yanran's waist, deliberately kissing her forehead in front of Chen Yang, "The Love Curse is temporarily suppressed, but it will take a few more treatments to stabilize. I'll come to your place tonight."
Zhao Yanran nodded gently, her gaze quickly shifting away from Chen Yang, as if afraid to meet his eyes.
Chen Yang opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found his throat dry, unable to utter a sound.
He watched Zhao Yanran nestle in Yang Tianming's embrace, the two walking away side by side, not sparing him another glance.
The moonlight stretched their shadows long, gradually disappearing at the end of the herb garden path.
Chen Yang stood alone in the courtyard, staring at the still-open door, the room inside in disarray, the wooden bed he had slept on for months now reduced to splinters.
The air was filled with a peculiar scent, a mix of Zhao Yanran's usual fragrant sachet and an unfamiliar musk.
He slowly walked into the room, stepping on something. Looking down, he saw it was Zhao Yanran's fragrant sachet, usually worn at her waist, likely dropped in the earlier chaos.
Chen Yang bent down to pick up the sachet, his fingers trembling slightly.
The sachet still carried her warmth and scent, yet it was tainted with someone else's presence.
Outside, a distant bell suddenly tolled, the sound of the Greenwood Gate disciples' evening class bell, long and solemn, as if reminding him of the distance between him and that world.
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Proofreader & Editor: Peter Pan