Qian Renxue Cried

"...The seventh variant application of angel power... requires soul power to flow backward through the meridians for three full circuits... but... but it hurts so much..."

"Father said that if I couldn't do it, I wouldn't deserve to be his daughter..."

Qian Renxue's little face was filled with confusion and pain.

As Ning Lin listened, he understood.

So this favored daughter of heaven was nothing more than a child crushed breathless beneath the weight of expectations.

He thought for a moment, then picked up a pebble from beside him and gently flicked it toward a nearby tree.

Tap.

The pebble struck the trunk with a soft sound.

That crisp sound made the little girl hugging her knees whip her head around like a startled rabbit.

Her golden eyes, filled with an inborn wariness and pride, swept over every corner of the garden.

At last, her gaze settled on the boy in filthy servant's clothes beside the laundry room.

"Who are you?"

"This isn't a place you should be."

Ning Lin did not answer her. He merely walked calmly over and stopped three paces in front of her.

His gaze fell on the thick tome, several of its pages wet with tears.

"Three backward circuits. It hurts, doesn't it?"

Ning Lin spoke in a voice so flat that he might have been discussing something utterly unrelated to him.

Qian Renxue's little face instantly flushed crimson. As though he had exposed her secret, she was both embarrassed and angry.

"No! It doesn't hurt at all!"

She stubbornly denied it, but instinctively tucked the book closer against her chest.

"Nonsense! You don't understand anything!"

Ning Lin did not argue with her. He simply said:

"When the flow reverses through the meridians, it feels like ten thousand ants gnawing at your heart, scorching your bones and burning your sinews. The first circuit is still bearable. The second drives the pain into your marrow. The third makes you want to die."

His description was frighteningly precise.

Every word was like a needle piercing Qian Renxue's most vulnerable nerves.

Her golden eyes widened as she stared at the boy before her, who was a little younger than she was. For a moment, she forgot how to speak.

She had never told anyone about these sensations.

Her father only asked whether she could do it. Her teachers only taught her how to do it. No one had ever asked whether it hurt.

"How... how do you know?" Qian Renxue's voice grew faint.

"Because I hurt too."

Ning Lin pointed at his clothes, washed so often they had faded, with footprints on them that had yet to dry.

"Getting beaten by the instructor every day hurts too."

"Not having enough to eat, going hungry—that hurts too."

"Pain is a feeling. Once you get used to it, it doesn't hurt as much."

There was no complaint or grievance in his voice, only a matter-of-factness far beyond his years.

Qian Renxue froze.

She looked at the faint scrapes on Ning Lin's face and his thin, small frame. Then she thought of how she had just cried over the pain of training, and a complicated feeling suddenly welled up inside her.

So there were other people in this world who felt "pain" just as she did.

Perhaps... even more pain than she felt.

"My name is Ning Lin," he offered.

Qian Renxue was silent for a moment before speaking softly, with some reluctance.

"Qian Renxue."

"I know." Ning Lin nodded.

"Her Highness the Saintess of Spirit Hall. Of course I know."

Qian Renxue's cheeks warmed again. She disliked being addressed by that title. It meant standing high above everyone else, and it also meant loneliness.

Yet when Ning Lin said it, there was not the slightest flattery or awe in his voice. It was as though he were saying the most ordinary name imaginable.

"What... what are you smiling at?" Qian Renxue had noticed the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Nothing."

Ning Lin let his smile fade.

"I just thought it wouldn't be good if someone saw Her Highness the Saintess sniveling."

"Don't you dare tell anyone!" Qian Renxue instantly bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"I won't."

Ning Lin shook his head.

"But if you keep crying here, someone will notice sooner or later."

He paused, then added:

"If it hurts, don't force yourself to keep training. Go for a walk, or... find someone to talk to. It'll help a lot."

With that, he said no more. He turned, picked up the huge pile of dirty clothes, and went into the laundry room.

Qian Renxue stood there alone in a daze, watching his back disappear through the doorway.

Find someone to talk to...

Who could she talk to in this glittering, magnificent Papal Hall?

From that day onward, the little garden outside the laundry room became the two children's secret hideout.

Ning Lin was still the servant with abysmal aptitude, held up by the instructor every day as an example of failure, cursed at and beaten on the training grounds.

Qian Renxue was still the lofty Saintess, surrounded by countless expectations and pressures, required to devote every moment to training and study.

Their worlds should have been two parallel lines that never crossed.

Yet every evening, after Ning Lin finished washing the clothes and Qian Renxue finished her day's meditation, they would come here without needing to arrange it.

"Ning Lin, look!"

Like someone showing off a treasure, Qian Renxue brought a delicate pastry out from behind her back. Golden osmanthus blossoms adorned its top.

"I secretly took this from Father's snacks. It's for you!"

Ning Lin looked at the golden, tender pastry. Wisps of steam rose from it, carrying the sweet fragrance of osmanthus.

He did not immediately reach for it.

"Will His Holiness the Pope notice that you took it?"

"If he does, will he punish you?"

Qian Renxue wrinkled her little nose and pushed the pastry straight into his hand, a hint of pride in her manner.

"Father wouldn't care about something so trivial."

"Eat it! Otherwise it'll get cold."

Only then did Ning Lin break off a small piece and put it into his mouth.

It melted on his tongue, sweet without being cloying.

It was the most delicious thing he had eaten in either of his two lifetimes.

He ate slowly, savoring every bite.

Qian Renxue sat beside him with her chin propped in her hands, watching him with sparkling golden eyes. She looked as happy as if she were eating it herself.

"Good, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ning Lin nodded.

"I'll steal you another one tomorrow... bring you another one!" Qian Renxue hastily corrected herself.

Ning Lin handed the remaining pastry back to her, more than half of it still uneaten.

"You have some too."

Qian Renxue shook her head and patted his shoulder like a little adult.

"You're too thin. Eat more."

"You don't even know—you came last again in today's assessment."

Although she lived in the Saintess Hall, she always had ways of finding out what happened at the Junior Soul Master Training Institute.

The corner of Ning Lin's mouth twitched. He said nothing and merely finished the pastry in silence.

"Did that Instructor Wang scold you again?" Qian Renxue pressed.

"Yes."

"He said I was a disgrace to Spirit Hall, and that taking in trash like me was a waste of food," Ning Lin repeated calmly, as though telling someone else's story.

Qian Renxue's little face flushed red with anger, and her fists clenched.

"He's talking nonsense!"

"When I grow up, he'll be the first one I fire!"