The Sect Leader of Verdant Peak Sect had endured many humiliations.
He had once been chased by a wild goose across five rice terraces.
He had accidentally invented a cultivation technique called "The Cabbage Shuffle" after slipping on a wet turnip.
He had even survived being named "Most Eligible Husband" in three separate marriage festivals—without applying once.
But this—this was a new low.
"Open your mouth, Sect Leader Jiang," Lin Wuyue said sweetly, holding a porcelain spoon of suspiciously red soup.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's glowing. Soup should not glow."
She leaned in, voice lowering like a villainess unveiling her master plan. "It's spicy."
He leaned back. "That's not spice. That's malice in liquid form."
Around them, the open-air dining pavilion buzzed with excitement. Cultivators sat in neat rows beneath colorful paper lanterns strung like constellations across the night sky. The "Not-A-Wedding Banquet" was in full swing, with an absurd number of dishes themed after vegetables, poetry, and "spiritual harmony."
There was "Lettuce Live Together Stir Fry."
There was "Two Hearts One Vine Stew."
And, for reasons no one dared question, "Cabbage-Flavored Mooncakes."
Jiang Chen's table, however, had become ground zero for romantic sabotage.
"Just one bite," Wuyue said, lifting the spoon again. "The disciples are watching. You don't want them to think you're scared."
"I'm not scared. I'm wise. There's a difference."
"You once drank something you found in a puddle because you thought it looked 'mysterious.'"
"That was before I knew puddles could contain chili oil."
Wuyue's eyes glittered. "So you are scared."
He opened his mouth—to argue—and the spoon found its target.
The second the soup hit his tongue, Jiang Chen knew he had made a mistake.
His body froze.
His soul fled.
His cultivation flared in a desperate attempt to extinguish the fire that had just detonated in his mouth.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" he choked.
"Spicy Spiritual Broth. It purifies meridians," Wuyue said, far too calmly for someone actively committing war crimes via cuisine.
"IT'S PURIFYING MY DESCENDANTS!"
A nearby disciple held up a scroll and declared, "Master Jiang has accepted Sister Wuyue's Flame-Feeding Technique! Their harmony is complete!"
Another whispered, "He's crying. From joy, obviously."
Jiang Chen slammed a hand on the table. "THOSE ARE NOT TEARS OF JOY! THAT'S MY INTERNAL ORGANS WEEPING!"
Wuyue offered him a bun.
He took it.
Bit into it.
It was stuffed with more chili.
He coughed, his face going redder than a demonic tomato. "Why is there chili inside the anti-chili bun?!"
"That was a test."
"A TEST FOR WHAT?!"
"To see if you'd still trust me."
He stared at her. She was smiling—mischievous, elegant, and entirely unapologetic.
"…You're enjoying this."
"A little."
Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes. "You want me to suffer."
"I want you to adapt," she said, softer now. "You've been running from everything that scares you. Emotions. Rumors. Relationships. Fire."
"It's not fear. It's called being reasonable."
Her voice dropped lower. "Then be unreasonable. Just once."
The disciples were now whispering excitedly again.
"Did you see that look? So intense!"
"They're spiritually synchronizing again!"
"It's like watching a cultivation drama in real life!"
Jiang Chen leaned forward, dropping his voice to a hiss. "Stop looking at me like that in public. They'll start drafting wedding invitations again."
"Would that be so bad?" she said, too sweetly.
He flinched like she'd slapped him with a steaming scallion pancake. "YES. I want peace."
Wuyue tilted her head. "You think peace means loneliness?"
"I think peace means not being dragged into a fake marriage by cabbage-fueled propaganda!"
She chuckled. "You could've walked away."
He looked at her.
She looked back.
The silence stretched.
"You didn't," she said.
He looked away. "That's because—because—shut up."
"Mm."
And then she leaned just a little closer and added with a smile, "Your ears turn red when you're flustered."
"They do not! That's the chili oil!"
"Oh, is it?"
"It is!"
"Hmm. Let me check."
And then, to his eternal horror, she reached up and gently touched his ear.
It was warm.
Too warm.
He practically evaporated.
Across the pavilion, Elder Goose honked dramatically from atop a table, flapping his wings and crowing, "THE VOWS HAVE BEEN SEALED BY FLAME AND BLUSH!"
Someone released celebratory fireworks.
Another disciple passed out from excitement.
Jiang Chen stood up so fast he knocked over a soup pot. "THAT'S IT—I'M TAKING A WALK. A LONG ONE. INTO THE MOUNTAINS. POSSIBLY FOREVER."
He stormed off.
Wuyue called after him, "Remember to take the spicy buns!"
"NEVER!"
As he disappeared down the misty path lit by fireflies and the haunting echo of goose hymns, Jiang Chen rubbed his burning face and muttered to himself.
"This is fine. This is manageable. I'll just hide in the cabbage patch. No one goes there after dark…"
But as he reached the edge of the garden, he found a new horror awaiting him.
Pei Yun.
Holding a scroll.
"We need your help, Senior Brother!" she said brightly.
"No."
"But we're staging a romantic play in your honor!"
"NO."
"And we've written you into the script!"
"Absolutely—wait, what?"
Pei Yun opened the scroll.
At the top, in bold calligraphy: "The Burning Bond: A Tale of Soup and Soulmates."
Starring: Jiang Chen as himself.
And Lin Wuyue as "Beloved Spice Demoness."
"I will fake my death," Jiang Chen muttered. "Don't test me."
"You already died once. Remember? The cabbage explosion? It's canon now."
He turned and saw Wuyue walking toward them, waving.
She looked radiant in the lantern light, holding a plate of dumplings and smiling like nothing in the world was wrong.
Maybe… maybe not everything was.
But he would never admit that.
Ever.