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"Gu Changjin, you've been unconscious for four days," Rong Shu managed to hold back her tears, only for them to surge once more. "Your heart even stopped for a moment. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up."

Gu Changjin smiled.

He had waited so long just to see her again.

How could he bear not to awaken with her by his side?

His gaze held a touch of obsession and longing.

When he held her ashes and entered Qingyan Temple, all he had wished for was a single glimpse of her.

He assumed that upon truly seeing her, he would feel content.

But humans were creatures of insatiable greed and unquenchable desire. Now that he had seen her, he yearned to keep looking at her, day and night, over and over again.

Closing his eyes only for a moment, he eagerly opened them once more.

It was as if a single breath of delay caused him immense distress.

"Don't cry, I'm fine, I'm alright now." He tenderly wiped away the increasing moisture on her face. "It's all my fault for not waking up sooner and scaring you."

Rong Shu bit her lip, gradually stemming her tears.

The young couple appeared deeply affectionate at this moment. Despite having many questions, Daoist Qing Miao knew it was not the right time to intervene.

Just as he was about to leave the cottage and give Rong Shu and Gu Changjin their privacy, the latter called out to him.

"Venerable Daoist Qing Miao—"

Daoist Qing Miao halted his steps, turning to face Gu Changjin with his fan in hand. This esteemed prince, before his coma, had no idea of his daoist name and only addressed him as "Daoist." Now, with the use of "Venerable Daoist Qing Miao," not only did he know his title, but there was also a hint of familiarity in his tone.

"Thank you, Daoist, for your assistance," Gu Changjin said solemnly.

In his previous life, in the underground palace, Daoist Qing Miao had spared no effort in helping him set up the formation. Without that, he would never have seen Rong Zhaozhao even in death.

But Venerable Daoist Qing Miao shook his head. "Why thank an old Daoist like me? The old Daoist has already gained much from your presence, Your Highness, as it allowed me to delve deeper into Daoism."

He raised his hand, revealing the fourth crack on his palm fan. "Your Highness might not know that many Daoists can never attain this state in their lifetimes. Therefore, there's no need for your gratitude. The karma between you and this old Daoist has been settled today."

The cracks on the fan reflected his Dao heart.

Qing Miao sighed, "This old Daoist once believed that people were blinded by a single leaf, hence their relentless pursuit to annihilate our Qing Heng Sect. But today, I've come to realize that while I blamed others for being shortsighted, wasn't I also doing the same? From now on, there will be no more Qing Heng Sect in this world, only Qingyan Temple."

Without waiting for Gu Changjin's reply, he turned around and walked out of the cottage in a few strides. He collided with his young disciple who was holding a pot of porridge, waved his hand, and smiled. "One bowl won't be enough for the two of them. Go warm another pot."

Still trembling from fear, the young disciple pointed at the ominous dark sky and whispered in a tiny voice, "Master, was that... divine wrath just now?"

Qing Miao followed his gaze into the night sky and replied slowly, "It's over now. Someone has already made a trade with Heaven, giving all they had to reclaim everything. In this world, death is powerful, but sometimes love is even more powerful."

There was a hint of regret and sorrow in Qing Miao's voice that even he himself couldn't detect.

The young disciple was utterly confused.

Seeing his disciple still hadn't grasped the meaning, Qing Miao couldn't help feeling frustrated. He huffed coldly, "Hurry up and cook more porridge!"

The voices of the master and disciple gradually faded away.

Just then, Daoist Qing Miao was standing right outside the door, delivering his words with a robust voice that Rong Shu could clearly hear.

Daoist Qing Miao had said that someone had traded everything they possessed to reclaim all that belonged to him.

She was sharp-minded and well aware of what the old daoist meant by "all he possessed" and "all that belonged to him."

Rong Shu lowered her gaze.

All the joy, sorrow, and relief since Gu Changjin's awakening suddenly condensed into a profound pain within her.

Her heart felt pierced by a thousand needles, causing her lips to turn pale and her fingers to tremble slightly.

To avoid Gu Changjin noticing anything amiss, she stood up and turned away, saying, "I'll fetch some medicine. Your wound on the left chest hasn't fully healed yet. You need to apply it daily, and today's dosage hasn't been applied yet."

Gu Changjin acknowledged her with a soft "hum," but didn't let her go. Instead, he gently held her wrist and looked at the side of her face that she deliberately averted. "Zhaozhao, you don't have to bear any burden. I'm doing this for myself."

He was willing to sacrifice everything he had to alter her fate, even though it originated from her, but ultimately, it was for his own sake.

It was because he couldn't come to terms with her death.

It was he who refused to let go of her.

And these feelings should not be a burden to her.

How could Rong Shu not understand him?

It was precisely because she understood him that her heart ached so profoundly!

"I know," Rong Shu said without turning back. She suppressed the dull pain in her heart and, with her eyes stinging, deliberately changed the subject with a lighthearted tone. "Master Baoshan said that the abbot's medicine is not available outside. You should use more of it these few days!"

Gu Changjin looked at her slender shoulders and neck, then released his grip and replied, "Okay."

When Rong Shu returned with the medicine, her complexion had returned to normal.

She skillfully untied his belt and pulled open his upper garment. Scooping out a small green glob of ointment from the medicine bottle, she gently applied it to his wound.

Her movements were incredibly gentle, and her expression was extremely focused.

She was afraid that if she applied too much pressure, it would hurt him.

Gu Changjin had never been one to fear pain, but at this moment, he was particularly savoring her meticulous tenderness.

Back when they were in Wutong Lane, she had cared for him in the same way.

Each time she applied medicine to his wounds, her eyes would redden as she begged him not to get hurt again.

Little did she know then that injuries were an all too common occurrence in his life.

Before she came to Wutong Lane, it was Chang Ji and Heng Ping who attended to his wounds.

How could those two men control their strength?

Gu Changjin didn't mind; after all, he wasn't afraid of pain, so whether the pressure was light or heavy made no difference to him.

But she cared deeply. The first time she saw Chang Ji dressing his wound, her face turned pale as if she were the one experiencing the pain. The second time, she took the medicine from his hand and personally tended to his injury.