Chapter 47: Her Love Language

"Ow," she hissed, shivering violently. "So cold. Why is it so cold?"

She turned to look at Wangchen.

He hadn’t moved. He was staring at her. His eyes were wide, dark, and filled with an emotion so intense it was almost terrifying.

The red glow was gone. Xie Wangchen’s Blackening Value had dropped from 90% to a safe 35% in seconds.

"You came, Young Master," Wangchen whispered.

"Of course I came," Ji’an chattered, hugging herself to preserve warmth. Her wet robes were starting to freeze in the ambient chill of his Ice Qi. "The System nearly gave me a heart attack. Do you know how much soap I ate? It tasted like poison! Poison, I say!"

Wangchen didn’t laugh. He looked at her wet hair plastered to her neck. He looked at the way the wet gray fabric clung to her shoulders.

Even though the artifact hid her gender, the sight of her so vulnerable, so messy, and so fierce on his behalf... it broke something inside him.

"You are freezing," Wangchen said hoarsely.

He dropped Winter’s Sigh into the snow. He didn’t care about the sword.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

"Whoa— hey!" Ji’an stiffened as she was pulled into a crushing hug. "I’m wet! You’re wearing white! You’ll get dirty!"

"I don’t care," Wangchen buried his face in her cold, wet neck. He didn’t use Ice Qi. He reversed his cultivation flow, forcing his body to generate pure, physical heat. "You are cold. Let me warn you."

Ji’an stood there, stunned. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, fast, erratic, powerful. She could feel the tremors in his arms.

He wasn’t hugging her like a brother. He was hugging her like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood.

"She called you mud," Wangchen mumbled into her skin, his voice thick with suppressed rage. "I wanted to kill her. I wanted to tear her apart."

"I know, I know," Ji’an sighed, slowly relaxing into the embrace. She patted his back awkwardly with her spatula-holding hand. "But murder is bad for business, Little Puddle. And I’m not mud. I’m a chef. Mud is just unrefined clay."

"You are not mud," Wangchen pulled back slightly, his hands gripping her shoulders. He looked into her eyes, his gaze burning. "You are..."

He searched for the word.

The sun? The moon? My life?

"...You are an idiot," he finished softly, his voice trembling. "Running out here with wet hair. You will get sick."

"I have the Five-Grain body," Ji’an grinned weakly. "I don’t get sick. I just get hungry."

Wangchen didn’t smile. He reached up and touched her wet cheek. Then, he channeled his Qi.

A gentle, warm breeze began to circulate them. Steam rose from Ji’an’s clothes as Wangchen used his immense spiritual power to dry her instantly.

It was a delicate, precise control of energy that would have impressed Elder Qin.

Within seconds, Ji’an was dry and warm. Her hair fluffed up into a messy halo.

"Better?" Wangchen asked.

"Much," Ji’an sighed in relief. "You’re a handy hair-dryer, Wangchen."

She stepped back, sensing the atmosphere was getting a little too... intense.

"Anyway! Crisis is averted now that the princess is gone. You also didn’t kill anyone. Good job. Now, I have to go back to the kitchen before the Steward realizes I’m gone. I have a pork shoulder braising."

She picked up her spatula and turned to leave.

"Young Master," Wangchen called out.

Ji’an paused. "Yeah?"

Wangchen stood in the middle of the path, the frost melting around him.

"Next time," he said, his voice ringing with a terrifying promise. "If anyone insults you again... do not stop me."

Ji’an looked at him. She saw the Villain in his eyes, not the mindless monster, but the calculated protector.

She smiled, a little sadly.

"Next time," she agreed softly. "But let’s hope next time, I’m at least wearing dry pants."

She waved and vanished into the forest.

Wangchen watched her go. He reached up and touched his own chest, where her wet form had pressed against him.

"My life belongs to you, Young Master," he whispered to the empty air, repeating the words he had thrown at the Princess.

But this time, it wasn’t a defiance. It was a vow.

[System Alert: Villain’s Loyalty: MAX.]

[Warning: Villain’s Obsession: ENTERING DANGER ZONE.]

***

The ascent back to the Eternal Cloud Peak was a journey through a painting of white and gray.

The higher they climbed, the more the world fell away, leaving only the biting wind, the crunch of boots on ancient snow, and the silent, towering presence of the pine trees that stood like sentinels guarding the sect’s most reclusive elder.

Lin Ji’an walked slightly ahead, her hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth.

She was humming a nervous, off-key tune, a habit she had when she was thinking too hard.

Behind her, Xie Wangchen matched her pace perfectly. He didn’t speak. He simply watched the back of her head, his gaze heavy and tangible.

The rage that had nearly consumed him on the Cyan Bamboo Path had receded, bottled up and shoved deep down into the freezing abyss of his dantian.

In its place was a simmering, anxious need to keep her within his line of sight.

[System Notification: Blackening Value stabilizing at 35%. Warning: Target’s emotional dependency is rising.]

Ji’an ignored the ding. She was too busy mentally cataloging the contents of her spatial bag.

’I need to distract him,’ she thought frantically. ’He looked like he was about to eat that Princess alive. And that too was not in a fun way. I need to override that memory with something positive. Will something sweet and sugary do the work?’

Food was her love language. It was also her diplomacy, her weapon, and her apology.

They reached the perimeter of the barrier that marked Elder Qin’s personal domain. The air here shimmered with a formidable restriction spell.

"Alright, Little Puddle," Ji’an stopped and turned around, forcing a bright smile onto her face.