These days Mu Bai had already figured out the system’s patterns. It was loudest when triggering events from the original story, constantly sending persona-collapse warnings; at other times it didn’t interfere much.

If there were no night scenes, it would quiet down after midnight.

So Mu Bai borrowed a few sets of men’s clothes from the few senior brothers in the valley and stopped wearing skirts at night.

“Come up and have a seat?” the man in the tree said.

Mu Bai was taken aback, realizing it was the voice that had come from deep within the forest at dusk.

The two black-clad guards from daytime didn’t seem to be around. After a moment’s hesitation, he climbed the rope ladder up to the treehouse.

The man asked, “Young hero, you don’t know lightness skill?”

Mu Bai turned his head and met his eyes directly.

That look was hard to describe—inky and profound, like moonlight sinking, yet from the depths a translucent sheen shone through, like a jet-black jade.

Mu Bai was stunned for a moment, then looked away: “No.”

He climbed into the treehouse and realized that from here he could see the lotus pond at the center of Qinglian Valley in one glance. The flowering season had not yet arrived; only floating lotus leaves dotted the pond, bright and clear under the moonlight like a round mirror.

“The scenery here is beautiful,” the man said.

As he spoke, his gaze drifted into the distance, his fringed eyelashes casting a calm silhouette.

Mu Bai momentarily thought he was looking at an old man who had weathered the world and returned to simplicity.

Like the sort who could shave his head and instantly become a Buddha.

The way the other person looked so peaceful made him let his guard down a little. He brushed the fallen leaves off a branch, responded as he moved to sit down on the side closer to the treehouse: “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?”

“Su Mo.” the person answered.

“Oh.” Mu Bai blinked, then suddenly furrowed his brow, “Huh?”

He registered it and quickly scooted back, but he was so shocked that his hand didn’t steady the branch in time. His whole body wobbled and he lost his balance, tumbling downwards.

The height wasn’t enough to kill him if he fell, but it would still hurt if he actually hit the ground. Mu Bai instinctively closed his eyes, and then caught a faint scent of sandalwood as the breeze brushed past.

By the time he came to, he was already firmly on the ground.

“The young hero really doesn’t know lightness skill.” Su Mo released him, spun, and flew back up the tree.

His movements were so fast Mu Bai only glimpsed a trailing shadow.

The next day, he saw the fabled prince of Wuti Kingdom sitting in a wheelchair, his face pale and his manner feeble, covering his mouth as he coughed incessantly.

After his surprise, Mu Bai couldn’t help but feel a flicker of suspicion.

In the original text, Su Mo stirred up bloodshed and mayhem across the jianghu; though he wasn’t the main villain, he was more cunning than one.

Not to mention anything else, just his feigned frail and sickly demeanor alone could win an Oscar in the modern era.

No one knew what plot he had in mind by limping into Qinglian Valley—Mu Bai didn’t seem to remember this scene from the book?

After Qin Jiuge finished taking Su Mo’s pulse, she was at a loss. She glanced at the disciples behind her, then suddenly beckoned to Mu Bai and said, “Xiao Bai, come out.”

The disciples ahead all stepped aside, and Su Mo peered through the gap to see Mu Bai dressed in women’s clothing, wearing light makeup.

He slightly raised an eyebrow, his face betraying no emotion, and said in a calm voice, “We meet again.”

Qin Jiugе asked, “You two have met? When was that?”

Su Mo answered unhurriedly, “Yesterday evening.”

Mu Bai exhaled, his curled fist loosening slightly.

It seemed Su Mo hadn’t recognized him in men’s clothing.

He stepped forward: “Senior sister, what did you call me for?”

Qin Jiugo pulled Mu Bai aside: “His Highness the Prince wants you to diagnose him.”

“Me?” Mu Bai pointed at himself. “I can’t even identify all the herbs yet.”

Qin Jiugo frowned. She had also wondered why the Prince specifically requested Qin Mu Bai to treat him, and only after hearing that the two had met yesterday did a vague suspicion form in her mind.

Could it be that they took a liking to each other?

To be honest, she wasn’t willing to let the young master marry into the Wuti Kingdom, but since the other party came from royalty and held high power and rank, she couldn’t afford to offend them, so she casually instructed Mu Bai, “It doesn’t matter, go ahead and give it a try.”

Su Mo’s leg ailment left even her helpless; Mu Bai couldn’t possibly cure it, so it would be better to find other disciples to look after him.

Mu Bai glanced at Qin Jiuge, then at Su Mo. The latter gave him a weak smile, then lifted his sleeve to cover his mouth as he coughed, as if trying to cough his lungs out.

If he hadn’t seen this guy scaling eaves and running along walls yesterday, Mu Bai would have thought his illness was terminal.

What is he playing at, putting on such a big show?

Mu Bai walked to the wheelchair, lifted the cloth draped over Su Mo’s legs and glanced twice, then asked, “Your Highness, where does your leg hurt? How long has it been?”

Su Mo’s voice was weak: “Jinyi.”

“In attendance.” The black-clad female attendant beside him said, “His Highness’s leg has been numb for over a month.”

Qin Jiuge said, “I examined His Highness yesterday but haven’t found the root of the illness yet. I did administer acupuncture, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

A feigned illness, of course, couldn’t be traced to any real cause.

Mu Bai crouched down, pinching the flesh on Su Mo’s leg with his fingers and twisting hard.

“Feel anything?”

The weak smile on Su Mo’s face stiffened for a moment; he shook his head.

“Seems the illness really is severe.” Mu Bai said, then moved to another spot and twisted again, asking, “How about here?”

Jinyi couldn’t bear it any longer and was about to stop him, but Su Mo raised a hand to halt him: “It’s all right.”

Mu Bai released his grip, rolled his wrist, then suddenly swung his fist and slammed it down with force.

Su Mo and the wheelchair beneath him were nearly lifted off the ground by that punch.

“Cough! Cough cough…”

Qin Jiugo shouted, “Xiao Bai!”

The system in Mu Bai’s head also issued warnings, buzzing all at once.

When he recovered, he saw Su Moyou cast him a faint glance and say in a cool voice, “Miss, your medical skills are indeed superb; after that round of pounding, my leg has actually regained some feeling.”

Mu Bai: “?”

The few people around were dumbfounded.

Su Mo continued, “From now on, you’ll have to look after Miss Qin.”

With him saying that, Qin Jiuge could only instruct, “Very well. Xiao Bai, from now on you will stay with His Highness the Prince until his leg heals.”

Mu Bai: “……”

After Qin Jiuge led the other disciples away, two men in black stepped forward to push Su Mo’s wheelchair.

Was stopped by his master’s raised hand.

“Ahem, cough cough… Miss Qin.”

“What?”

“May I call you Little Bai from now on?”

“Do as you please.”

Su Mo paused, then said in a calm voice, “Xiao Bai, take me back to my room.”

Mu Bai was startled, then realized this meant he was being asked to help push the wheelchair.

He could clearly walk on his own, yet insisted on ordering him around.

He was about to refuse when two men in black moved closer; from their stance, if he so much as uttered a “no,” he’d probably be taken down on the spot.

Mu Bai thought for a moment, then reluctantly placed his hand on the wheelchair.

The mountain path was steep, so he deliberately walked over the rough patches, determined to make Su Mo suffer a little more.

Su Mo remained silent. It wasn’t until they returned to the treehouse, dismissed the two attendants, and Su Mo told Mu Bai to close the door that he spoke softly, “Miss Xiao Bai, you’re returning kindness with enmity. How have I provoked you?”

Mu Bai asked bluntly, “Your leg was fine—why are you pretending to be lame?”

That question stopped Su Mo. He looked up at Mu Bai for a moment, as if unsure whether the other truly knew or was trying to trick him, so he dropped the subject and changed the topic: “Xiao Bai, pour me a glass of water.”

Mu Bai: “?”

He really treated his present-day self like a servant.

He clenched his fists, and his head started nagging again: “Warning! Warning! Do not perform actions inconsistent with the original character.”

Mu Bai waved his hand impatiently: “I know, I know, his martial arts are clearly better than mine, I can’t beat him either.”

“Xiaobai, who are you talking to?”

Mu Bai, pouring water, answered angrily, “None of your business.”

Su Mo slightly curved the corner of his eyes imperceptibly, then coughed twice: “Xiaobai, bring me my cloak.”

“Xiaobai, come grind the ink.”

“Xiaobai, push me to the Peach Blossom Grove for a walk.”

“Xiaobai…”

Busy until night, Mu Bai finally dragged her tired body back to the treehouse and, burying her head, slept a long, deep sleep.

In the dream he even heard Su Mo ordering him, “Xiaobai, come sleep with me.”

Startled, he jerked upright in bed, drenched in sweat.

The angrier Mu Bai grew, the more he fumed. He opened the window hole to take a look; outside was pitch black, no stars or moon—judging by the time, the midnight hour had passed.

He dug a white long dress out of the wardrobe and put it on, then opened the bundle he’d brought, took out a tin of cheap lip balm, melted it over the candle flame, and rubbed it on his lips, face, and dress.

She swept the waterfall-like black hair over her forehead one last time, checked the terrifying effect in the brass mirror, then floated and drifted as she pushed the door open.

Su Mo’s room still had its light on; he heard a strange noise outside and set his brush down on the table.

The door was already locked; if an assassin wanted to come in, they could only get through the window opening.

Su Mo raised his head and saw a deathly pale face suddenly emerge from that black, gaping hole, flashing a bright red tongue at him.

Even the prince, who was used to bloody scenes, was startled by this sight; once he recovered, he immediately drew the folding fan hung at his waist.

The moment the fan opened, several poison-coated silver needles shot out.

The ghost reacted quickly as well, leaning back and disappearing at once.

Su Mo walked to the locked door, hesitated for a moment, and instead of pushing it open to give chase, he blocked the window opening with something.

The next day Mu Bai saw his eyes rimmed with dark circles and asked with great concern, “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Su Mo was silent for a moment, then said softly, “There was a haunting in my room last night.”

“Haunting?”

“Yes, a white-clothed female ghost.”

Mu Bai raised his sleeve to hide half his face. “Eek, that’s truly terrifying.”