The courtyard gate creaked open, revealing a man with a rugged, square-jawed face. It was Wang Yu. With his thick eyebrows and wide eyes, he usually carried a boisterous, cheerful grin.

However, the moment he spotted the figure seated on the stone stool, his expression froze. His gaze darted frantically between the two people in the courtyard before locking onto the woman’s hair.

There, the Cold Plum Reflecting Snow Hairpin shimmered, its faint light dancing under the afternoon sun.

“Wei… Senior Sister Wei?”

Wang Yu’s voice cracked, jumping an octave before he hurriedly choked it back. He scrambled forward, bowing so deeply his forehead nearly hit his knees.

“I didn’t know you were here, Senior Sister! Please, forgive my intrusion.”

Wei Zhaoli was a legend within the Divine Wood Sect. As a core disciple, her status was leagues above an inner disciple like Wang Yu. He remained locked in his bow, fine beads of sweat erupting on his brow.

He shot a desperate, meaningful look at Shen Xian, transmitting his voice privately: Junior Brother Shen, what’s going on? Why is Senior Sister Wei in your courtyard?

Shen Xian remained leaned back, perfectly composed. Miss Wei just came to deliver some medicinal pills, he replied smoothly.

Deliver pills? Wang Yu’s eye twitched.

A core disciple personally delivering medicine to a new arrival? It sounded like a fever dream. He couldn’t help but steal another glance at her.

Wei Zhaoli sensed his gaze and looked up. Her eyes were cool and distant, her regal aura returning the moment an outsider appeared.

That single look made Wang Yu stiffen. He immediately withdrew his spiritual sense, terrified of being caught eavesdropping via soul transmission.

“And who is this?” Wei Zhaoli asked, her tone haughty and detached.

“Senior Sister Wei, I’m Wang Yu, Shen Xian’s neighbor,” Wang Yu blurted out, straightening his back like a soldier on parade.

Wei Zhaoli gave a shallow, graceful nod. “Shen Lang is new to the sect. I hope Junior Brother Wang will look out for him in the future.”

“Of course, of course!” Wang Yu agreed reflexively.

Then, the realization hit him like a physical blow. Shen Lang? Since when did anyone address the lazy heir so intimately?

His eyes wandered further, noticing the jade pendant hanging from Wei Zhaoli’s waist. It was green jade with gold-patterned outlines—a near-identical match to the one Shen Xian was currently idling with.

A terrifying thought took root in Wang Yu’s mind. His jaw dropped. “W-wait… your jade pendants…”

Wei Zhaoli looked down at her waist, then glanced at Shen Xian with a trace of soft helplessness. Shen Xian caught her eye and nodded toward his neighbor.

“It is exactly what you are thinking, Brother Wang,” Shen Xian said.

“What I’m thinking?” Wang Yu’s voice trembled. “You two couldn’t be…”

“Betrothal tokens,” Shen Xian stated flatly.

Clatter!

The wine pot slipped from Wang Yu’s hand, shattering against the stone floor. Amber liquid splashed everywhere, but he didn’t even blink. He stood there, mouth agape, looking back and forth between the “Salty Fish” and the Sect Goddess.

Wei Zhaoli rose, smoothing her sleeves with effortless elegance. “I should be going.”

Given her status, staying while a guest was present would only invite unnecessary gossip.

“I’ll see you out,” Shen Xian offered.

“No need,” Wei Zhaoli replied. She paused at the gate, her voice softening just a fraction. “I shall return tomorrow.”

Shen Xian watched her disappear around the corner of the bamboo grove. Only then did Wang Yu let out a breath so long it sounded like a deflating balloon.

“You’re actually engaged to Senior Sister Wei?!” Wang Yu barked, still reeling.

Shen Xian raised an eyebrow, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t you see the evidence for yourself?”

Wang Yu sucked in a sharp breath of cold air. “Truly… you are a direct descendant of the Shen Family. I underestimated you.”

His expression suddenly turned grave. He stepped closer, whispering urgently.

“Junior Brother, you mustn’t go out alone. If the others find out your fiancée is the sect’s goddess, you’ll become public enemy number one. They’ll skin you alive!”

He reached into his robes and fished out a crumpled, yellow paper talisman.

“Take this. It’s a Concealment Talisman. The grade isn’t high, but…”

Shen Xian looked at the crooked, shaky ink lines on the paper and smiled. “Did you draw this yourself, Brother Wang?”

“Ahem!” Wang Yu’s face turned beet red. He scratched his head sheepishly. “It might be ugly, but it works!”

He suddenly grabbed Shen Xian’s shoulder, his eyes burning with curiosity. “Quick! Tell me! How did you do it?”

Shen Xian chuckled, pouring a fresh cup of tea. “Do what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Wang Yu stamped his foot. “That’s Wei Zhaoli! Half the men in the Divine Wood Sect are too scared to even look her in the eye, and you’ve already got the betrothal jade? Teach me your ways!”

He slumped onto a stool, sighing in defeat. “If I’d known you were a master of romance, I would have asked for lessons yesterday.”

“Didn’t you say women only slow down your artifact refining speed?” Shen Xian teased.

“That’s different!” Wang Yu slapped his thigh. “That’s Senior Sister Wei! She’s a talisman genius! And she’s so…”

He caught himself and glanced at Shen Xian, worried he’d overstepped. Shen Xian simply continued tidying the tea set, unbothered.

Wang Yu leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “So… is she always that cold? I heard even the Talisman Hall elders tremble when she’s angry.”

Shen Xian remained silent, a mysterious half-smile on his face.

Wang Yu smacked his own forehead. “Ah! I get it! A unique secret technique! You used some legendary charm, didn’t you?”

“You’re overthinking it,” Shen Xian said. “It was an arranged meeting between families. Nothing more.”

“Bull!” Wang Yu pulled a tattered notebook from his storage bag and licked the tip of a brush pen. “I’m taking notes. What was your opening line? What gift did you give her?”

Shen Xian caught a glimpse of the title on the notebook: Eighteen Techniques for Chasing Women. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“This is for academic research!” Wang Yu insisted. “For the benefit of all lonely cultivators! Poor Junior Brother Li… he’s loved her for three years and hasn’t even dared to say hello.”

Shen Xian shook his head and gave him a brief, simplified version of their engagement. After the explanation, Wang Yu sat in stunned silence for a long time.

“Ah…” Wang Yu finally sighed, looking dejected. “It really is a world that only cares about looks.”

“I thought we were going to drink?” Shen Xian asked, amused.

Wang Yu pointed sadly at the puddle on the floor. “My wine is gone.”

“Then drink mine.” Shen Xian reached into his sleeve and produced a jar of Drunken Immortal Wine from the Shen Family cellars.

The moment the seal was cracked, the rich, heavenly aroma filled the courtyard. Wang Yu’s eyes practically turned into gold coins. His depression vanished instantly.

“You have to promise me,” Wang Yu said, his eyes glued to the bottle. “When you two get married, I get an invite.”

“That depends,” Shen Xian teased. “What kind of wedding gift are you prepared to send?”

“The best! I’ll forge you something extravagant!” Wang Yu declared solemnly. He grabbed his cup, ready for the pour. “Definitely the best.”

Shen Xian filled the cup to the brim. “Then I’ll be waiting.”