Making Up: If You Weren't My Good Friend, I Wouldn't...

Lin Qingyun suspected Xiao He of deliberately provoking him, but when he met He Zhuoming's gaze, he found not a trace of malice in her; she was simply stating the facts.

Lin Qingyun argued back, "That wasn't true—it was a joke."

He Zhuoming: "I don't joke with life-saving benefactors of mere passing acquaintance."

Lin Qingyun twitched the corner of his mouth, offering a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What's it to me? I like it this way."

He Zhuoming took the wooden sword and held it in her hand—but still ignored Lin Qingyun, continuing to walk ahead.

Lin Qingyun crossed his arms. Watching her head off in the wrong direction, he made no move to correct her. With a cold smirk, he silently trailed behind He Zhuoming.

A vicious thought crossed his mind: *Go ahead and snap at me now, give me the cold shoulder, push me around all you want. We'll see how you cry when you can't find your way out!*

And he absolutely would stay by He Zhuoming's side; not because he was free, and not because he was circling around her, but because he wanted to witness with his own eyes He Zhuoming's tearful realization of her mistake, and then her sincere apology.

When He Zhuoming came clinging to his leg and begging for forgiveness, he would reject her without mercy—

What should he say then? Right, he'd throw her own words right back at her!

"Didn't we cut ties? I don't travel with rescued fools I barely know."

"Not talking to me, huh? I can't hear you now!"

...

The sky darkened quickly. He Zhuoming managed to find a river by following the sound of water before the last traces of light vanished.

Because she didn't know how to start a fire by hand.

She had resolved not to speak to Lin Qingyun. Even if he followed behind her with an olive branch in hand, He Zhuoming refused to acknowledge him or ask for his help with a fire.

On a clear night, the riverbank was brighter than elsewhere due to the water's reflection, so there was no need to worry about fumbling in the dark.

It also solved the problem of washing up.

He Zhuoming crouched by the river, plunging both hands into the water—after nightfall, the river's chill rivaled that of a well, and the cold made her hiss.

Lin Qingyun walked over to her side and set down a roll of clean silk and a small medicine bottle. "Rinse your wound, then apply the medicine. You'd better not die before you can repay me."

"But I'm more magnanimous and kinder than Xiao He. If unfortunately your wound gets infected and you die, I'll definitely dig you a wide, deep grave."

He Zhuoming withdrew her dripping hands, picked up the medicine bottle, and turned her back to Lin Qingyun.

Lin Qingyun circled around to face her, clearly displeased. "How come you didn't say thank you?"

He Zhuoming raised her head, her face taut with a blank expression. "Thank you. Once I get down the mountain, I'll buy new cloth and medicine to repay you."

Lin Qingyun: "No need to repay me. I'm very generous—this is a gift. Heh, I'm nothing like those people who fly off the handle and break off friendships over nothing."

He Zhuoming turned around again, keeping her back to Lin Qingyun. She gritted her molars and applied the medicine to her palm, head bowed.

Even as she used the medicine Lin Qingyun had given her, He Zhuoming couldn't help but feel he was utterly unbearable. She would never speak to Lin Qingyun again, never smile at him, and absolutely never cry in front of him!

She would become an emotionless cultivation machine, refining herself into an emotionless supreme expert, then coldly repay her debt and coldly leave Lin Qingyun behind!

When she returned to the modern world, she would buy the full set of the protagonist's merchandise, and then coldly lock it all deep in a storage closet—letting it gather dust, never seeing the light of day!

He Zhuoming thought furiously, feeling a pang of sadness at her own corruption, then comforted herself: Lin Qingyun deserved all of this!

Before the black-clad young man left, faking his death might have been excusable, but even after the enemy was gone, he kept up the charade. He had seen how hard she dug the grave, how sorrowfully she recited the eulogy, and he stayed unmoved... She had offered him her true heart, and this was how he treated her!

As she thought about it, her vision blurred, and she couldn't help but sniffle and cry: the medicine Lin Qingyun gave her really stung on the wound.

But Lin Qingyun was nearby, and He Zhuoming was afraid he'd see her crying, so she just plunged her head straight into the river water—her head had barely submerged when a force grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her up.

The collar choked her, sending her into a coughing fit. Lin Qingyun's shocked voice rang in her ear: "Why are you so hot-tempered? I only said one true thing, that I'm more generous and kinder than you, and you're already trying to drown yourself?"

He Zhuoming froze at his words, and only after a few seconds did the anger sluggishly catch up. She wiped the dripping water from her face with her hand.

But the medicine smeared on her palm washed into her eyes with the water, and her eyes immediately turned hot and painful—He Zhuoming burst into loud sobs. Because she was crying so hard, she couldn't spare the breath to argue back at Lin Qingyun.

Lin Qingyun scratched the back of his head, not even noticing he'd tousled his short hair. All he could think now was how troublesome Xiao He was. Why was she crying again?

He was the victim here and he hadn't cried! Why was Xiao He wailing so loudly?!

His hands went up, then down. He walked from He Zhuoming's left to her right, then from her right back to her left. He lifted his sleeve to wipe her face, but seeing his own filthy sleeve, he sheepishly lowered it.

Lin Qingyun stared at her for a long while, then finally spread both hands in defeat. "Xiao He, stop crying. Your hair's a mess. Crying like this, you're even uglier than the first time we met."

He Zhuoming was furious, crying and snapping back: "You're the ugly one! You had corpse spots all over back then—even uglier than me!"

Lin Qingyun: "No, I still looked good even with corpse spots. I couldn't possibly be uglier than you crying."

He Zhuoming: "We've already cut ties. Don't talk to me. Whether I cry ugly or not is none of your business—and I wasn't trying to drown myself! I was washing my face! I wouldn't drown myself over some big liar who's just a mere acquaintance!"

With that, He Zhuoming twisted around, turning her back to Lin Qingyun, and continued scooping water from the river to wash her face.

Under the repeated rinsing of the river water, the bloodstains smeared across her neck and chin washed away. A knife wound that ran from her jaw down to her neck was now left bare, starkly visible on her skin.

The wound was shallow; only the middle portion had broken skin, while both ends were merely slightly red and swollen.

Lin Qingyun suddenly reached out, gripping He Zhuoming's chin and tilting her face upward.

He Zhuoming slapped at his arm a few times in irritation, but Lin Qingyun didn't move an inch. He only asked, "He cut your neck with a knife?"

He Zhuoming pried at his fingers with all her might, refusing to answer his question. But his grip was strangely firm; the harder she struggled, the less she could break free, and her jaw was beginning to ache from the pressure.

She was determined not to speak to Lin Qingyun. Even if she couldn't pry his hand off, she wouldn't talk to him. So she just glared at him with displeasure.

He Zhuoming now found Lin Qingyun even more detestable—she didn't believe for a second that his question about the wound came from concern. If he really cared, he wouldn't be yanking her chin around so forcefully. They hadn't made up yet, and He Zhuoming refused to speak with a stranger of a savior who didn't respect her.

Their gazes locked for a long moment, and in the end, it was Lin Qingyun who let go first.

He Zhuoming rubbed her jaw and quickly turned her face away, leaving him only the back of her head.

Still, reminded by Lin Qingyun, she couldn't help touching the wound on her neck—it hurt quite a bit.

She couldn't resist craning her neck to look at the water's surface, studying the wound's shape through her reflection. It seemed shallow; it probably wouldn't leave a scar.

Lin Qingyun crouched nearby, ruffling his own hair until it stuck up like a hedgehog's.

Seeing that He Zhuoming refused to look at him or speak to him, he let out a long, quiet sigh and asked, "Are you really that angry?"

He Zhuoming said nothing, merely shifting farther away from Lin Qingyun. Nonchalantly, Lin Qingyun scooted closer, closing the gap. "Xiao He tricked me too, didn't she? When we first met, you told me you were going to seek refuge with relatives—that was pure nonsense, right? I didn't even complain."

He Zhuoming: "It's completely different! We had just met back then; you weren't my good friend yet. Besides, I only told a tiny lie. It didn't hurt your feelings."

Lin Qingyun: "So when did we become good friends?"

He Zhuoming thought for a moment, then said, "After we buried the villagers' bodies together. Sharing hardship makes you a good friend."

Lin Qingyun: "Since we're good friends who've shared hardship, then Xiao He, you—"

Before he could finish, He Zhuoming covered her ears, stood up, and walked along the riverbank.

Cut off mid-sentence, Lin Qingyun rose and followed her.

The river rushed downstream, and the two figures trailing behind them drifted along with the current.

Fuming, He Zhuoming walked faster and faster. She walked for what felt like ages until her energy gradually gave out. A glance out of the corner of her eye at the river showed Lin Qingyun still following behind.

Tired, she simply crouched down where she stood.

Lin Qingyun circled around to face her and crouched as well. He drew the soft sword from his waist and held it up—the Wuyi Sword transformed into a swallow holding a flower in its beak, flapping its wings and landing on He Zhuoming's knee.

He Zhuoming fought the urge to squeeze the little bird. Her gaze traveled past it to settle on Lin Qingyun.

Lin Qingyun crouched softly, arms resting on his knees, back fully arched, half his face buried in the crook of his arm. What remained most visible was his pair of thick-lashed eyes.

At the moment their eyes met, Lin Qingyun blinked—the swallow holding a begonia flower leaned forward, its fluffy head gently rubbing against He Zhuoming's still-damp cheek.

He Zhuoming didn't know whether the swallow's gesture came from its own awareness or from Lin Qingyun's will.

After a moment of silence, Lin Qingyun spoke: "I won't lie to you again."

He Zhuoming: "You also have to apologize to me."

Lin Qingyun paused. A moment later, he squeezed three awkward syllables from his throat: "...I'm sorry."

He Zhuoming reached out, cupping the flower-holding swallow in both hands, pressing inward gently to squeeze the little bird, and said cheerfully, "I forgive you."

Lin Qingyun: "But you were pretty harsh with me too. I didn't do it on purpose. Sure, my lie was a bit bigger than the one you told, but you were way too loud when you talked to me."

He Zhuoming raised her eyes to look at him—her eyes were round and bright, her brows thick and dark. When she wasn't deliberately stiffening her face into a cold expression, there was a clean, handsome quality about her.

And with the soft roundness of her cheeks, the raw youthfulness in her brow and gaze, that handsomeness carried a boyish charm that blurred gender lines.

Lin Qingyun stared at her face, and in an instant, he completely forgot how he'd been nursing his grievance, fantasizing about her kneeling and begging for mercy.

He saw only He Zhuoming, and he clearly felt her looking back at him—that overpowering sense of being seen enveloped Lin Qingyun once more.

He Zhuoming spoke slowly, her tone softening. "I wasn't being harsh... Fine, I was a little wrong too. I'm sorry."

Listening to her speak, Lin Qingyun felt an unprecedented bashfulness. "Actually, you weren't that wrong either... Are we still cutting ties?"

He Zhuoming shook her head. "We've apologized to each other. That counts as making up—no more cutting ties. But you can't lie to me like that again. Here," she pointed at her own chest, "Even though no one stabbed me here, when you let me down, it hurt a lot. If you weren't my good friend, I wouldn't feel this awful."

After a pause, He Zhuoming added, "What I said in the eulogy was sincere. If someone had killed you, I think avenging you would have mattered more to me than going home—about this much." She held up her index finger and thumb, showing Lin Qingyun about half a finger joint's length.

It was only a tiny amount, but it made Lin Qingyun's heart leap with joy. He smiled despite himself, the dimples drifting back onto his cheeks.

But beyond the happiness, dissatisfaction crept in.

*Why did I only meet Xiao He now?*

*Why am I only befriending Xiao He now?*

*Xiao He is so interesting—I should have known her the moment she was born. Who arranged for her to grow up away from me? They can go die.*