The sprawling residence in Liuye City loomed before us, a grand yet understated testament to Ruan Yanjun's power. Unlike his opulent estate in Henmei District, this property was modest by comparison—but still vast enough to make me feel out of place. Situated in the heart of Wun Empire, its manicured gardens and serene courtyards offered a deceptive calm, belying the storm of relentless training that awaited me.
"We'll rest here for a week before continuing," Ruan Yanjun declared, his tone as commanding as ever, as he accompanied me to my room with a pair of servants leading the way.
Rest?
I highly doubted that word meant the same to him as it did to me.
True enough, the next morning, he announced an extended training schedule: three hours at dawn and another three in the evening.
By the end of the first day, my body felt like it had been pummeled by a mountain spirit. My muscles screamed in protest, my lungs burned, and the ever-present sickness gnawed at me from within. Ruan Yanjun, of course, remained unfazed. He believed my will alone could conquer whatever poison was ravaging my body.
Each session ended the same way: I collapsed in the dirt, coughing violently, only to be carried back to my room. There, he would force another vile concoction down my throat—bitter brews that he claimed might help me recover. "Might" being the operative word.
The nausea these so-called remedies caused was unbearable, and any hope of improvement in my condition felt like a distant dream.
One night, after another grueling training session, I lay sprawled on the bed, too exhausted to do more than breathe. The bitter taste of his latest "medicine" lingered on my tongue, making me grimace. Meanwhile, Ruan Yanjun sat at a low tea table just a few feet away, a scroll in his hands. A scholar had delivered it earlier that day, and he had been engrossed in its contents ever since.
"Lord Ruan," I said, my voice hoarse but determined.
"Mm?" he hummed, his gaze not shifting from the scroll.
"Are you experimenting on me again?" I asked bluntly.
His noncommittal hum made me question whether he had even registered my words, but after a beat, he finally replied, "Safe, I can guarantee. I'd never give my A-Fan anything harmful."
The way he called me gave me the shudders. "Why do you keep calling me that? Your 'A-Fan'?"
He glanced up briefly, his dark eyes gleaming with something I couldn't place. "Are you not?"
I frowned. "I'd prefer if you addressed me formally. Luo Fan will suffice."
"Calling you 'Luo Fan' makes it sound as though we're mere acquaintances," he said, his gaze returning to the scroll. "We're far closer than that."
My frown deepened. "Lord Ruan, what exactly do you think we are?"
His lips quirked into a faint smirk. "A-Fan, are you truly that oblivious? Haven't you figured it out yet?"
"I haven't," I retorted, irritation creeping into my tone. "So please enlighten me, so I can correct whatever misunderstanding you're harboring."
He sighed, finally lowering the scroll. "Never mind. Think what you will. I'll think what I will."
Frustration bubbled within me, but I chose to let it go. There was no point in arguing with someone as maddeningly stubborn as him.
"I don't think these medicines are working," I said, steering the conversation to safer ground.
"Indeed, they're not," he admitted without hesitation.
I shot him a sharp glare. "Then why are you still giving them to me?"
"Like you said, it's an experiment," he replied smoothly, as if that justified everything. "They're completely safe, so it doesn't hurt to try."
"I'm not some test subject for your experiments," I snapped.
He turned to face me fully this time, his expression uncharacteristically solemn. "A-Fan, we've exhausted all conventional methods to cure you. Even the one who created the poison can't help you. What choice do we have but to search for a cure ourselves?" His gaze softened, though his voice remained firm. "I'm working for you, day and night. Every decision I make is with you in mind. So instead of complaining, show a little appreciation for my efforts."
Guilt tugged at my chest. Lowering my head, I murmured, "I apologize."
He offered me a faint smile. "Go to sleep. You'll need your strength for tomorrow's training." His voice, though still commanding, carried a rare note of gentleness.
I sighed, dread pooling in my stomach at the thought of another brutal session. The words "dawn" and "night" had come to mean only one thing – torture.
"Are you not sleeping in your room?" I asked hesitantly.
"We had a deal," he said simply.
"We're in your residence," I pointed out. "Your guards are everywhere. You don't need to worry about me running away."
"Until I'm certain I can trust you, you're staying where I can see you," he said, his voice firm with finality.
I let out a resigned sigh, knowing there was no point in protesting. Rolling onto my side, I turned my back to him, my gaze fixed on the cold, unyielding wall. "Fine. Goodnight," I muttered, my tone clipped.
"Goodnight, darling," he replied smoothly, a teasing lilt in his voice.
My shoulders stiffened, and I pressed my lips into a thin line, willing myself not to respond. But the playful edge in his words sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine, the term of endearment lingering in the air like a challenge I refused to rise to.