"I will wait for you, Young Master," Wangchen whispered, his voice husky. "Count the seconds. Do not be late, and don’t make me wait too long, hmm?"

Ji’an stood there, her mouth slightly open. Her brain was frantically trying to process the data and failing.

’He... he kissed my hand. Is this a custom in his village? Is this how disciples say goodbye? Why is my face burning? Why do I feel like I just signed a contract with a devil?’

She laughed nervously, a high-pitched, strangled sound.

"Ha... haha! Right! Counting seconds! Very precise! Okay! Good talk!"

She yanked her hand back, not violently, but with the desperation of someone pulling their hand out of a fire.

"I... I gotta go! Cultivate diligently! Reach the bottleneck! Bye!"

She turned and practically fled, activating her movement technique to blur down the mountain path, leaving a trail of panicked dust in her wake.

Xie Wangchen stood alone in the snow.

He watched her retreating figure until she disappeared into the tree line.

He lifted his hand, the hand that had held hers, and touched his own lips. He could still taste the faint, sweet scent of her skin.

Slowly, the cold, stoic mask he wore for the world dissolved.

A dark, complicated smile spread across his face. It wasn’t the innocent smile of the boy who ate her fried rice.

It was the smile of a wolf who had just realized the fence around the sheep was broken.

’She didn’t push me away.’

The thought echoed in his mind, clear as a bell.

He had tested the waters, pushing the boundary of "brotherhood" into the realm of ambiguity.

A kiss on the hand was not something friends did.

If Ji’an had been disgusted, she would have wiped her hand. She would have scolded him; she would have hit him with that spatula.

But she didn’t.

Her face flushed, and her pulse had jumped so fast that he felt it under his fingertips. She had looked flustered, yes, but not repulsed. She clearly looked like... she was affected.

’He is oblivious,’ Wangchen realized, picking up the box of desserts. ’He thinks I am just a clingy younger brother. He tolerates my touch because he pities me, because he thinks I am lonely.’

He opened the box. The sweet scent of osmanthus wafted up.

He took a piece of the jelly and placed it in his mouth. It was sweet, melting on his tongue.

’Good,’ Wangchen thought, his eyes narrowing with calculation. ’Let him think like that for now. No matter how tough he acts on the surface, he still doesn’t understand the matter of the heart.’

The "Black-Bellied" nature of the Villain, the trait that made Xie Wangchen a terrifying antagonist in the original novel, f’If he tolerates a hand kiss today... Perhaps tomorrow he will tolerate a hug that lasts too long. Then a touch on the face. Then...’inally woke up.

No, it was always there to tell the truth. Just that Wangchen didn’t bother to show off.

It wasn’t directed at destroying the world. It was directed at capturing one person.

’If he tolerates a hand kiss today... Perhaps tomorrow he will tolerate a hug that lasts too long. Then a touch on the face. Then...’

He would boil the frog. He would slowly, methodically desensitize Lin Ji’an to his presence, his touch, his scent, until the day came when Ji’an wouldn’t even realize she was trapped in his web.

He would make himself indispensable. He would make himself a habit she couldn’t break.

"Two days," Wangchen whispered to the wind. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

He turned and walked back toward the Eternal Ice Cave.

His step was no longer heavy with loneliness. It was purposeful.

"I need to be stronger," he murmured. "Strong enough so that when he finally realizes what I want... he won’t be able to run away."

.

.

.

Inside the Eternal Ice Cave, the temperature was low enough to freeze blood in seconds.

Wangchen sat on his ice bed. He placed the box of desserts next to him.

He didn’t eat them all at once. He took out one piece of Red Bean Mochi.

He closed his eyes and began to circulate his Qi. The Ice Heart Sutra roared to life in his veins. Usually, the cold made him numb. It made him forget his emotions.

But today, he fueled the cultivation not with emptiness, but with desire.

He visualized Lin Ji’an’s face. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The way she defended him against the Princess.

The way she had looked just now, flustered and blushing in the snow.

Every image was a log thrown onto the fire of his determination.

’Protection,’ he thought. ’She wants to protect me. It is sweet. But it is wrong.’

In this world, the strong devoured the weak. The Princess had attacked him because she thought he was weak. If Lin Ji’an hadn’t arrived...

Wangchen’s Qi spiked.

’No. I will not let her fight my battles. I will become the nightmare of this Sect. I will make the name Xie Wangchen synonymous with death, so that the moment anyone sees me standing behind her... they will kneel.’

He took a bite of the Mochi. The red bean paste was sweet, sticky, and lingering.

"Get used to me, Ji’an," he whispered into the darkness of the cave. "Because I am never letting you go."

***

Meanwhile, in the warm, bustling kitchen of the Outer Sect, Lin Ji’an was aggressively kneading dough.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

"Stupid Puddle. Stupid hand-kissing custom. Stupid handsome face."

She punched the dough with unnecessary violence.

The Steward, who was peeling potatoes in the corner, watched her with concern.

"Boss?" he ventured timidly. "Is... is the dough an enemy?"

"The dough is complicated!" Ji’an shouted, tossing flour into the air. "It’s sending mixed signals! It’s acting all clingy!"

She stopped, leaning over the counter, staring at her right hand.

She could still feel the phantom sensation of his lips on her skin. It burned.