When dawn broke over Baihe Village, the storm clouds gradually retreated, leaving behind a soaked landscape. Water dripped steadily from the eaves of every rooftop, forming puddles that reflected the wan light. The once-harrowing gale had subsided to a series of sporadic gusts, and a delicate morning fog rolled in, veiling the muddy roads in ghostly tendrils. A faint golden hue spread over the horizon, but no one in Baihe dared to call it a sunny day just yet.
Inside Lan Zhuoran's home, the atmosphere felt heavy with fatigue. Neither he nor Madam Qiu had slept much, keeping vigil over the still-unconscious stranger. Her fever had flared during the night, causing delirious murmurs and restless tossing. Madam Qiu had alternated cold compresses and herbal brews to keep the infection at bay, while Lan Zhuoran dozed fitfully against the wall, one hand always near the mysterious metal bundle in case the stranger awoke in confusion.
Shortly after sunrise, she finally stirred. Lan Zhuoran, roused by her soft moan, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and approached. Her face remained pale, but her gaze was more focused than before. He knelt beside her, feeling an unexpected relief that she was conscious again.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, as though loud speech might break the fragile calm.
The woman swallowed, voice scratchy. "A bit better," she managed, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings. She lifted her bandaged arm, inspecting Madam Qiu's handiwork with bleary curiosity. "Did… you treat me all night?"
Lan Zhuoran nodded. "Madam Qiu did most of it, really. I helped where I could." He watched her reaction carefully, noting the cautious gratitude in her eyes. She tried to sit up but winced, placing a hand against her ribs.
Madam Qiu, who had momentarily stepped outside to gather fresh water, returned just then. She carried a clay pot and a small basket of herbs. "You're awake. Good," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "I need to check that wound again once you've had something to drink. There's porridge on the hearth, too."
A subtle tension underpinned her words, as if uncertain whether the stranger could be trusted. Still, hospitality ran deep in Baihe Village, and it was unthinkable to deny help to someone in need. The woman seemed to sense this unease. Carefully, she met Madam Qiu's gaze.
"Thank you… I owe you both my life. My name is Yin Feiyan," she said, voice thin but steady. "I don't want to bring trouble to your door. If I could leave immediately, I would."
Madam Qiu's expression softened, though she remained guarded. "Well, Yin Feiyan, you'd have collapsed in that storm if Lan Zhuoran hadn't spotted you. Rest now, and we'll talk about your plans later."
Lan Zhuoran observed the way Yin Feiyan's hand reflexively moved toward the metal bundle, which lay beside her pillow. "How's your arm?" he asked, attempting to redirect her thoughts.
She exhaled softly, as if reminding herself to stay calm. "Throbbing, but better than last night. You bandaged it well."
A moment of silence passed before Lan Zhuoran worked up the courage to speak about the obvious question. "That object of yours… you told me it was important, that someone wanted it for power. Are we in danger just by having you here?"
Yin Feiyan's gaze darkened. She brushed her fingertips over the cloth covering, and for an instant, her eyes seemed haunted by memories. "Truthfully, yes. If they find out I'm here, they won't hesitate to harm anyone in their way." Her voice dropped. "I'm sorry for that. I never intended to drag innocent people into this."
From the corner of his eye, Lan Zhuoran saw Madam Qiu's worried frown. He felt his own stomach knot as well. The villagers in Baihe had little experience with deadly conflict. Most of them cultivated small fields, raised livestock, and occasionally traveled to nearby markets to trade. Real strife was something they heard about in distant rumors, not in their quiet enclave. Yet here was a wounded traveler, entangled in a pursuit that smelled of lethal intent.
"I can't just turn you away," Lan Zhuoran said finally. "You're injured. Your pursuers might still be close. Besides…" He paused, remembering the fleeting metallic gleam he had glimpsed beneath the wrappings. "…there's no telling what you're carrying or why it's worth spilling blood. But I can't pretend it doesn't concern me now that you've involved our village."
Yin Feiyan nodded, resignation mingling with gratitude. "I never meant for any of this to happen. All I can tell you is that it's a relic—an artifact of considerable significance. It was entrusted to me by my mentor, with instructions to deliver it safely to someone in the capital."
Madam Qiu snorted softly at the mention of the capital, her brow furrowing. "That's a long way from here. And full of political factions, might I add."
"All the more reason they want it," Yin Feiyan responded, letting her gaze drift to the bundle. "Tech guilds, martial clans—there are many forces with vested interests. But this… relic… it's dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands."
The conversation cast a chill over the tiny house, despite the lingering humidity from the now-receded storm. For a few moments, no one spoke. Outside, the rustling of leaves and the drip-drip of water from the eaves provided a rhythmic backdrop to the tension inside.
Eventually, Lan Zhuoran cleared his throat. "Baihe is remote. Maybe that gives us time. If your pursuers aren't sure where you went, we might have a few days to figure out next steps. But if they do track you here…"
Yin Feiyan closed her eyes, as though picturing the potential consequences. "I don't want any harm to come to this place. You've shown me kindness. The least I can do is depart as soon as I'm able, so no one else gets drawn into this."
Madam Qiu regarded her with a mixture of pity and caution. "Don't rush headlong into danger. Your fever only just broke, and that arm won't heal overnight."
Lan Zhuoran felt a swell of admiration for both women. Madam Qiu, always practical and caring, and Yin Feiyan, whose determination shone despite her weakened state. Somewhere within him, a spark kindled—a sense of responsibility, perhaps, or the stirrings of a more daring spirit. He had always dreamed of traveling beyond Baihe, of testing his martial skills in a wider world. Could this be the opportunity he had unknowingly waited for?
He helped Yin Feiyan adjust the blanket over her legs. "For now, let's keep you hidden. I'll talk to Elder Shui about the situation. She's the closest thing we have to a leader, and she'll know if anyone suspicious is asking questions. If your pursuers come poking around, we need to be prepared."
Yin Feiyan nodded, relief evident in her features. "Thank you. And… I'm sorry."
Those two words, spoken with quiet sincerity, tugged at Lan Zhuoran's conscience. He gave a small, reassuring smile, then stood and made his way to the door. Even though the sun had risen, the day felt dim, as if carrying remnants of the storm's darkness. Outside, the smell of wet earth greeted him, reminding him that nature's tempest had passed, at least for the moment.
Stepping onto the slippery walkway, Lan Zhuoran cast a final glance over his shoulder. Inside, Yin Feiyan hugged the relic protectively while Madam Qiu gathered more herbs. His heart pounded with an odd mix of excitement and trepidation. Baihe was home, but the world beyond it beckoned with secrets—and perils—beyond anything he had known. Whether he wanted it or not, a new chapter of his life had begun with the storm's first drops.