324. Gentle

Qian Renjue held the canvas tightly, carefully unfolding it to examine it closely.


It was indeed a portrait of him, wearing the attire he’d once worn at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan.

The resemblence was uncanny: golden hair flecked with gold dust, purple eyes as brilliant as violets, and a smile as warm as sunshine.

Qian Renjue thought to himself that perhaps he could no longer smile that softly.

It was difficult to imagine how many times Liu Erlong must have painted him to capture such intensity.

With a slight, thoughtful frown, Qian Renjue put down the canvas

But behind the canvas was the face of Liu Erlong—a face beautiful yet weary, her bright, dark eyes glistening with unshed tears as she looked straight at him.

She had woken up and sat up silently, and a gentle breeze stirred the lake outside, creating ripples, while a chime hung under the eaves above him sang a delicate melody.

The breeze also blowing the golden and black hair.

Qian Renjue carefully placed the canvas back on the table and spoke softly, “Dean Liu, I’ve come as promised.”

Tears began to flow from Liu Erlong’s eyes as she choked out, “Ah Jue, I knew… I knew you will come.”

Seeing her trembling, tearful expression, Qian Renjue’s brows knitted in sympathy.

With politeness, he asked, “Dean Liu, may I come in and sit for a while?”

“Of course… of course…” Liu Erlong hastily wiped her tears, her voice tinged with a desperate plea.

She turned around to wipe her tears and, anxious to bring him in, fearing he might leave.

Watching her, Qian Renjue felt a subtle helplessness—he could see her tears but couldn’t understand why she cried

He walked to the door on his own and met her there.

Her simple robe couldn’t hide her full, shapely figure, her body exuding a natural maturity and allure.

"Ah Jue... "

She raised her hand, about to reach for him, but stopped halfway, realizing the young man before her no longer held memories of her, and looked at her with unfamiliar eyes.


With pained voice, she lowered her hand and averted her gaze, her voice catching as she said, “Your Highness, please come in.”

Seeing her sorrowful and tear-streaked face, Qian Renjue was momentarily silent.


The words he wanted to say faded, and he could only offer, “I’m sorry.”

“No… it’s not your fault,” Liu Erlong shook her head repeatedly, quickly wiping her tears, and muttered, “It’s my fault, for going back on our promise.”

Without any memory of her words, Qian Renjue could only remain silent.

Realizing this, Liu Erlong tentatively grasped the edge of his sleeve, her voice gentle yet trembling, “Your Highness, please come inside.”

“Mm.” Seeing the pleading in her eyes stirred an ache in Qian Renjue’s heart.

How many years of torture had made her so humble?

Liu Erlong cautiously led him inside, glancing back with every step, as if afraid her Ah Jue might disappear again.


Qian Renjue let her guide him to the small but neat living room, taking a seat by the tea table.

Liu Erlong sat carefully beside him, half-perched on the seat, her rounded figure trembling as she suppressed her tears.

Pushing a tray of pastries toward him, she said in a gentle voice, “Your Highness, I made these myself. Please try one.”

“Thank you.” Qian Renjue accepted without hesitation.

The pastries, both in shape and color, matched his taste perfectly.

Picking one up, he glanced at Liu Erlong and softly reassured her, “Dean Liu, you don’t need to call me ‘Your Highness’.”

Hearing this, Liu Erlong was shocked.

“Ah Jue, I…” Liu Erlong bit her lip, her tears spilling over once more, though this time mingled with faint happiness.

Her Ah Jue was still as gentle as ever, trying to comfort her even if he doesn't know her

Qian Renjue chewed the pastry, surprised at its familiar taste—precisely like Bibi Dong’s creation

Liu Erlong watched him anxiously, “Ah Jue, is… is it not to your taste?”

“It’s good.” Qian Renjue shook his head, looking deep at Liu Erlong with a tinge of heaviness in his heart. “It’s very good.”

Relieved, Liu Erlong smiled through her tears, nodding quickly. “Ah Jue, I’ll make some tea for you.”

“Alright,” Qian Renjue nodded, observing her graceful, practiced movements and sighing inwardly.


As he ate the sweet pastry, he tasted not only sweetness but also Liu Erlong’s enduring love and resilience.

Savoring the fragrance of tea, he asked, “Dean Liu, may I ask… when did you first enter in that dream?”

Liu Erlong’s hands faltered slightly, her face clouding.

But she wouldn’t lie to Qian Renjue. Lowering her head, she replied quietly, “After that ridiculous wedding…”

“I see.” Qian Renjue frowned slightly.

He knew what she referred to—it had likely happened over a decade ago, back when he was under Qian Xunji’s care, yet to awaken his spirit.

In fact, he hadn’t used the Yellow Dream Millet technique until half a year after becoming a holy son, when he was still under ten years old.

Seeing his frown, Liu Erlong hurried to explain, “Ah Jue, I… nothing happened between us… nothing at all.”

“Yes, I understand.” Qian Renjue replied calmly, but a faint sense of disgust lingered despite his best efforts to mask it.

Liu Erlong’s face turned pale—she wasn’t sure if his aversion was directed at her or someone else, or perhaps both.

Unable to express her regret, she quietly poured the tea, her fingers trembling as she handed him a cup.

“Have some tea, Ah Jue.”

“Thank you.” Qian Renjue took the cup, their fingers brushing briefly, a light touch that left Liu Erlong’s face flushed.

“Ah Jue, would you like to hear a story?”

Hope flickered in her eyes, but Qian Renjue gently shook his head.

“Dean Liu, a story is in the end is just—a story.”