After washing up and returning to his room, Yan Zhen entered the Crystal Stone Space as usual. Under the supervision and guidance of the Beautiful Female Master, he practiced drawing the Fire Symbol.
Once he finished, she was about to give him a head massage when Yan Meng’er arrived outside with a late-night snack. Yan Zhen had no choice but to go open the door.
Yan Meng’er set down the food, clearly gearing up for a heart-to-heart chat with her cousin—and to crash on his bed into the bargain. But Yan Zhen wasn’t about to indulge her. He hauled his overly clingy cousin sister out the door.
He was just about to head back into the Crystal Stone Space when he suddenly remembered a minor side plot from the script. In it, he practiced drawing the Fire Symbol without any medicinal aid or a massage from the Beautiful Female Master. The next morning, he woke up with a splitting headache, as if he were burning up with a forty-degree fever, and had to call in sick.
The scene didn’t serve much purpose. It simply highlighted how difficult it was to draw the Fire Symbol and underscored the importance of medicinal support, nudging him toward gathering herbs. There was virtually no character interaction, and the System hadn’t marked it as a key plot point he had to follow.
Even so, Yan Zhen—ever committed to faithfully recreating the script—suddenly felt an urge to play out this segment.
He deactivated the Star Shifting Fire Seal, lay down on the bed, and drifted off to sleep quietly.
The night passed uneventfully.
The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Yan Zhen woke up.
He woke up in pain.
His head felt like it was about to split open, throbbing with excruciating agony. It was as if someone had jammed a massive stone inside his skull, weighing it down unbearably.
“This is bad—I really overdid it. No wonder he had to call in sick. Just getting out of bed in this state is pure torture.”
Unknowingly, Yan Zhen fell asleep again. He didn’t stir until Yan Meng’er came to rouse him for breakfast.
When he opened the door, he told his cousin that he wasn’t feeling well and asked her to help him request a sick day from Mentor Yu Xuan.
Seeing Yan Zhen’s face as pale as a sheet, Yan Meng’er jumped in fright. Then she suddenly recalled the one time in her previous life when Yan Zhen had called in sick. She hurried off to fetch Mentor Yu Xuan.
Yan Ruyu and Mi Xue’er, who had been eating breakfast, were also alarmed and came rushing to Yan Zhen’s room to check on him.
“Yan Zhen, what’s wrong?”
The four beauties gathered around his bedside, their faces etched with concern. The way they furrowed their brows made it seem like they were the ones in pain.
Yan Zhen felt a bit embarrassed by the fuss. Anyone who didn’t know better might think he was dying of some terminal illness—it was that dramatic.
“It’s nothing serious. Just a headache. I should be fine after sleeping it off for a day.”
Even as he said this, his condition was visibly dire. How could the four of them possibly believe it was no big deal?
Mentor Yu Xuan sat on the edge of the bed and circulated her Water Mystic Force. She gently placed her jade-like hand on the crown of his head, trying to ease his pain, but it had little effect.
After all, this was the agony brought on by Divine Soul Pulsation. Ordinary Mystic Power couldn’t soothe it. Yan Zhen planned to trigger the System’s skip function to jump straight to recovery.
But he couldn’t do that with them still there. He couldn’t even enter the Crystal Stone Space to ask the Beautiful Female Master for help in front of them.
“You don’t need to worry about me. Go to class. By the time school lets out, I should be mostly better.”
The more he insisted, the more worried they grew—especially Yan Meng’er, whose eyes were turning red, on the verge of tears.
“Meng’er isn’t leaving. Meng’er wants to stay with Cousin.”
In her previous life, they hadn’t lived together, so they only knew he’d sent someone to call in sick—they had no idea his condition would be this severe.
Yan Zhen was helpless. He was genuinely touched by their concern, but if they didn’t leave soon, the pain would kill him… So he toughened his tone a little:
“You staying here won’t help anyway. You’ll just disturb my rest. Be good and go to school.”
Mentor Yu Xuan chimed in:
“Yan Zhen’s right. You won’t accomplish anything by staying. Leave him to me. I don’t have any classes today, so I’ll take care of him. You three head to school first.”
Yan Zhen had a bad feeling upon hearing this.
—No, Mentor, you should go to class too! You can’t neglect all your other students just for one disciple!
The three girls were persuaded to leave by Mentor Yu Xuan, but she herself stayed behind.
Yan Zhen felt like he couldn’t hold out much longer. The intense pain made him clutch his brow and let out a muffled groan.
“Yan Zhen!”
Mentor Yu Xuan’s expression shifted. She reached out to help him up, letting him lean against her chest. One arm wrapped around his waist while the other gathered Water Mystic Force and pressed it to his forehead.
Unfortunately, the effect remained minimal.
Water Mystic Force could only calm the mind and spirit—it couldn’t alleviate pain from the Divine Soul. That would require specialized healing techniques, the domain of Pill Refiners.
“Could this be an injury to your Divine Soul?”
Mentor Yu Xuan had a vague inkling, her brows knitting even tighter. This was a serious issue.
But on second thought, it didn’t seem likely. Yan Zhen was only at the Mystic Practitioner Realm; he shouldn’t even be touching the realm of the Divine Soul.
“How about I take you to the academy to see a Pill Refiner? They might have a way to treat it.”
“No—Mentor, don’t. I don’t want to move right now.”
Yan Zhen didn’t dare claim he was fine—that would only deepen her worry. But then he heard her say:
“Then I’ll go fetch a Pill Refiner from the academy?”
“No need, Mentor—don’t go! Just let me rest like this, okay?” Yan Zhen’s head was swimming, and he ended up coquettishly pleading to keep her in place. “You smell so nice and feel so soft. Being like this actually makes my head hurt a little less.”
He had to admit, pillowing against Mentor Yu Xuan’s soft bosom and inhaling her elegant fragrance made him feel surprisingly comfortable.
Mentor Yu Xuan blushed at his words, inwardly protesting that her chest wasn’t some miracle cure for headaches.
But she could sense the dependence in his voice.
He was usually so independent and self-reliant, yet illness had reduced him to such vulnerability—like he’d shrunk ten years younger. It was a little endearing.
With that thought, a swell of maternal instinct rose within Mentor Yu Xuan, like dough fermenting and expanding. After a brief hesitation, she quickly slipped off her shoes and socks, drew Yan Zhen close, and eased them both down onto the bed. Her mature, voluptuous form served as his soft cushion.
“Rest well. Your mentor will stay with you.”
As she spoke softly, Mentor Yu Xuan stroked the top of Yan Zhen’s head, like a mother soothing a child to sleep.
Exhausted beyond endurance, Yan Zhen buried his face in the undulating valley of her bosom and sank into deep slumber.
He slept until nearly dusk before slowly waking.
A lingering, hangover-like ache remained in his head, but it was far better than that morning.
Opening his eyes, he met Mentor Yu Xuan’s beautiful, serene sleeping face—less than three inches away.
With each breath, the beautiful mentor’s warm exhalations brushed his face, carrying a faint orchid scent.
One of her lotus-root arms was wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing their bodies close from head to toe.
Yan Zhen blinked, lost in thought: How had he ended up sleeping in the same bed as Mentor Yu Xuan?
