Yun Rao smiled slightly, picked up a black piece, her gaze fixed on the board, her voice casual. "No matter how deeply you study, there will always be things you can't reach." As the black piece settled, she glanced at An Ziyuan. "Just like the Ziyun Pill. At least, I don't know how to configure it." An Ziyuan's expression remained calm, his eyes on her, his voice steady. "Miss, what kind of poison do you wish her to treat? You have several poisons within your body." Yun Rao looked at him with a touch of surprise, then recalled that he had once taken her pulse and that he was a disciple of Liu Mozi—his medical skills must surely be outstanding. It was therefore no surprise at all. Yet An Ziyuan did not look at her; he simply continued playing, his voice calm. "Miss Yun, have you lived in Youming Valley since birth?" "No," she replied. As soon as she finished speaking, An Ziyuan lifted his gaze to her. She felt slightly embarrassed under his steady gaze, and said lightly, "I actually moved there later." "Ah?" "Yun Rao smiled slightly, "I really don't know what's going on—formerly, I thought I was from that place, but later I realized it wasn't quite that simple." With a casual shrug, she shifted the topic and casually asked, "As Master Wusu mentioned, it was the young lord himself who tended to my wounds. Thank you, young lord." As she spoke, she lifted her head and noticed that An Ziyuan gave her a quiet, steady glance before shifting his gaze elsewhere, his porcelain-faced expression slightly unusual. Yun Rao frowned in mild curiosity, "What's wrong, young lord?" An Ziyuan turned back to her, clenched his fist lightly at his lips, and cleared his throat softly before gently steering the conversation, "Have you recovered from your wound now?" "Yes, quite well, thank you." Yun Rao reached out instinctively to touch the wound, but her hand missed it entirely. Only then did she become aware that the spot was far too... intimate. The mask beneath her face suddenly blazed with heat, spreading all the way to her ears. She now understood why An Ziyuan’s expression had seemed so peculiar earlier. Since she had regained consciousness, the dressing changes had always been handled by an unnamed young woman. When Wuchang mentioned that An Ziyuan had personally attended to her wounds when she was unconscious, she hadn’t thought much of it. But now, reflecting on it carefully, she realized that to treat the wound, one had to remove her clothes—lying naked across the nine-heaven celestial being’s serene presence. Her face grew even hotter, unsure whether the blush had seeped through the thin layer of skin on her face. She simply couldn’t bear to stay any longer. Just thinking about the day when she had been bare, with An Ziyuan’s hands gently moving over that area, made her feel deeply ashamed—she now felt as though she had somehow desecrated the celestial purity and sacred radiance of the nine-heaven immortal. Her hand, stiff at her chest, slowly withdrew. Yun Rao lacked even the courage to look at An Ziyuan, her head bowed low, striving to keep her voice steady. "Your Grace, I still haven't fully recovered. I can't endure the wind for long. I shall return to rest now." With that, she hurried to rise, only to stumble slightly—unaware that her broad sleeves brushed against the table, and as she stood up, the sleeve inadvertently knocked over the box containing the black pieces, sending the pieces scattering across the floor. "An Zi yuan spoke calmly, his expression unchanged. "Shy? Would she be shy?" Unchang couldn't help raising his voice, turning to his refined and elegant mistress. "Master, what has she done to you?" An Zi yuan glanced at him. "What could she possibly do to me?" Then, he rose slowly and returned to his room, leaving Unchang utterly puzzled. Yun Rao returned to her room and immediately buried herself in the bedcovers. For several days, she dared not look directly at An Zi yuan. Eventually, after that day, An Zi yuan no longer sent meals specially to her room—she had to share meals with him at the table, three times a day. All day long, she faced his ethereal beauty, especially those deep, still, and endless black eyes. And then, without realizing it, she found herself imagining whether those very eyes had once watched her bare form. Even the most delicious dishes began to taste bland. "Miss Yun, isn't the food rather unpalatable? You've been eating only the rice and main dishes, hardly touching the side dishes these days." For several consecutive days, Yun Rao had only been holding her bowl, silently picking at her meals, prompting Wu Chang to kindly inquire. After such a long period of getting to know her—especially after witnessing her critically injured and unconscious—Wu Chang had gradually grown more reserved toward her, his initial strong reservations now deepening. "Ah? Not at all. The food is delicious," she stammered, lifting her gaze to Wu Chang with some embarrassment, carefully avoiding Anyi Ziyuan's eyes, while quietly夹ing a spoonful of vegetables. "Recently, you've seemed rather unusual. What's wrong? Is the wound still painful?" Wu Chang asked. He found it easier to remain composed when he didn't mention his own chest, but as soon as he brought up Yun Rao, he grew increasingly uneasy, so he hurried his eating, finishing quickly and setting down her bowl before making to leave. "Even more unusual," Wu Chang remarked, watching her retreating figure. Yun Rao heard him but feigned not to, continuing her way toward the door. As she approached the entrance, she didn't notice someone entering, having kept her head bowed. Without realizing, she bumped into the person. "Oh..." A soft gasp, Yun Rao lifted her gaze, still not quite able to make out the face before her when the girl who had been knocked over suddenly widened her eyes, her voice now slightly sharp. "Who are you? How come you look exactly like me?" A little jolt went through Yun Rao's heart. She looked up, and there, indeed, stood a face identical to the one she now wore—no introduction needed; the real one had arrived. Su Ran. With Su Ran came Su Yan and several others she didn't recognize—likely fellow martial heroes. Everyone was momentarily puzzled upon seeing two Su Rans at once. "Hey, are you listening? Who are you, exactly?" Su Ran said, noticing Yun Rao hadn't responded, and raised her voice. Yun Rao glanced at Su Ran. Perhaps from wearing this face so long, she now felt a strange familiarity—especially the spirited, slightly impetuous look in Su Ran's bright eyes, which made her feel as though she had seen her before. "Su Ran, Su Yan—when did you arrive?" An Zi-yuan's calm voice echoed from behind, and he had already risen, making his way this way. When Su Yan saw Zi-yuan approaching, she pouted and said, "Zi-yuan, who is she? Why does she look exactly like me?" Su Yan also turned to Zi-yuan, asking, "Zi-yuan, what's going on? Isn't she the magical sect demon girl you brought back from Yu Family Manor last time?" Upon hearing the words "magical sect demon girl," the group who had come with them instantly radiated hostility, their swords at their waists tensing and ready to move.