Sending Lin Yunsi off and giving Wei Lin instructions wasn’t enough; today was truly not a day of peace.

People kept coming in waves, nearly overwhelming Wei Lin. By midday, even people from Die Meng showed up, saying they had some issues to report—apparently sent by Yu Yinyin herself.

If there was real business to discuss, he couldn’t just dismiss them casually.

Yin Jiuxiao put on a serious face. He knew that if things were delayed, Lin Qinghen would probably be even angrier when he woke up.

But Lin Qinghen was still asleep, and judging by his current state, he’d likely sleep until afternoon. And even when he woke up, he probably wouldn’t be in any condition to see people.

Yin Jiuxiao didn’t want anyone disturbing them, yet there were too many people to simply dismiss. He worried about the noise, so he went out to handle it himself. From the crowd gathered outside, he chose two people—one from Die Meng and one from the Alchemist Association—and invited them to sit in the outer hall, sending everyone else away.

However, he wasn’t Lin Qinghen, so his presence didn’t exactly satisfy the crowd. The Die Meng representative seemed fine, but the person from the Alchemist Association clearly wasn’t pleased, his face darkening.

“Where’s Master Lin?” they demanded.

“He’s resting,” Yin Jiuxiao replied. “If there’s anything urgent, tell me. I’ll handle it; it’s all the same.”

With Wei Lin standing beside him, the others didn’t dare object. Under Yin Jiuxiao’s guidance, they began speaking, albeit with suppressed irritation.

A bunch of trivial things were reported, most of which Yin Jiuxiao let pass from one ear to the other. But amidst the usual daily matters, one issue caught his attention—Die Meng’s main reason for sending someone.

“We’ve found that some of the townsfolk aren’t being honest about their farming,” Die Meng’s representative reported. “Some of them are trying to earn more by coming up with their own ideas. They’re not using the seeds we issued and have set aside small plots of land to secretly plant more valuable ling zhi. Some have even tried building makeshift structures, layering levels to plant more,” he continued. “There are also all kinds of other disobedient actions—they’re just not following our arrangements, which has already led to mistakes.

“We’re wondering if we should put a stop to it?”

The main issue was that none of this technically violated the meng shi, so it was a tricky situation. The workers were unsure.

Lin Qinghen had always been cautious, usually thinking through every detail. But he hadn’t specified this kind of behavior in the meng shi. He’d never intended to dictate how the townsfolk managed their own little plots of land.

When Die Meng noticed the issue, they didn’t immediately scold anyone, as Yu Yinyin had a good sense of Lin Qinghen’s temperament. But something didn’t sit right. Although it wasn’t time to distribute the medicinal water yet, the cost of mass-producing seeds for Yellow Tier ling zhi wasn’t cheap.

With the meng shi’s leeway for error, many people were pushing its limits, experimenting with new ideas, which meant extra costs on Die Meng’s side.

For now, it hadn’t caused any major issues, as most people were still following the rules. But Die Meng was concerned that if this continued unchecked, it might lead to trouble. Yu Yinyin hadn’t dealt with it yet, hoping to get a clear answer from Lin Qinghen.

The Alchemist Association also knew about the situation. While Die Meng wanted Lin Qinghen’s opinion, the Association’s stance was clear—fewer surprises would be better. Their suggestion? Simple: add a few more rules, and the townsfolk would have no choice but to comply, making everything more predictable and secure.

After hearing this, Yin Jiuxiao thought for a moment and replied, “I’ll discuss this with Qinghen. But I disagree with adding extra clauses. As long as they’re not violating the meng shi, let them be.”

The Die Meng representative lowered their head, deep in thought. But the Alchemist Association member shot Yin Jiuxiao a sharp look, clearly not agreeing with his stance.

While the Yin family had noticed the recent changes in Yin Jiuxiao, the Alchemist Association members hadn’t fully seen it yet. At most, they’d only heard rumors. Yin Jiuxiao had no jurisdiction over the Association, and they only respected Lin Qinghen.

“Master Lin might not feel the same way, no?” the Association member said. “Why not bring him out to say a few words, so we can feel at ease.”

The Alchemist Association held great trust in Lin Qinghen, but none in Yin Jiuxiao. And now, speaking up, they even seemed to defend Lin Qinghen: “The citizens of Lei City are truly fortunate but ungrateful. They’ve been given the best possible path, yet they refuse to follow it. How could their own ideas compare to Master Lin’s arrangements? If you ask me, it’s only because Master Lin is too kind-hearted. If the Medicine Garden had taken charge, everyone would fall in line, and we wouldn’t be seeing these issues.”

Hearing this, Wei Lin felt a jolt of worry, immediately glancing at Yin Jiuxiao’s expression. The words weren’t polite. Nobody in the Yin family would dare speak to him like that anymore, lessons learned through blood and tears.

Wei Lin feared that if Yin Jiuxiao grew upset, he might discipline the person on the spot, and this particular alchemist, being delicate, might not survive.

But Yin Jiuxiao was in a remarkably good mood today, the best mood he’d been in for a while, and didn’t seem angry at all. He just gestured for them to quiet down.

“I understand Qinghen well. He wouldn’t mind if people had their own ideas on top of his. In fact, he’d probably be thrilled,” Yin Jiuxiao explained. “Making mistakes is normal when trying new things. A few small issues don’t matter. And if anyone comes up with something good, he’d reward them heavily. Just let them do as they will.”

The Die Meng representative, hearing this, relaxed. His message was clear. Lin Qinghen had emphasized before that if he wasn’t around, Yin Jiuxiao’s words were to be taken as his.

“Understood. We’ll proceed as you’ve instructed.”

The Die Meng representative bowed and prepared to leave, only leaving behind one final message: “We know our Master Lin has been busy, but things outside are heating up. Many areas could use his guidance. If he has time, it’d be good for him to take a look, even if it’s just a glance.”

Yin Jiuxiao nodded, indicating he’d pass on the message. He knew some matters, despite handling them himself, still needed Lin Qinghen’s awareness.

These days, he knew not to hold him back completely. It was like flying a kite—let it fly a little, reel it back a little. He had it all planned out.

But the Alchemist Association member had zero tact. Dissatisfied, he held onto the Die Meng representative, preventing them from leaving. “Don’t go yet! We haven’t seen Master Lin. He’s the one in charge. How can a few words from someone else settle this?”

The Association member looked at Yin Jiuxiao like he was some kind of devious fox, even suspecting that he was hiding Lin Qinghen on purpose.

To him, Master Lin was a rare genius. The ling zhi he cultivated was unmatched, and the elixirs sold through Die Meng were famous for surpassing others, even with the same ingredients. Even President Mu Jiu had to concede to his skill. Some members of the Alchemist Association admired Lin Qinghen, even revered him.

In their eyes, Lin Qinghen was almost perfect, his only misfortune being his unlucky marriage. Due to a twist of fate, he ended up wed to this fox-like Yin Jiuxiao.

President Mu had previously mentioned that Yin Jiuxiao’s clinginess was the reason Master Lin remained confined to his courtyard, while this fox now used Master Lin’s name to throw his weight around—utterly absurd!

“What do you know? You’re just talking nonsense, taking things into your own hands! Where have you locked up Master Lin? You—mmph!”

Before he could finish, the Die Meng representative quickly covered his mouth.

“Apologies, Young Master Yin,” the Die Meng representative, a Spirit Master, easily restrained the alchemist. “He’s gone mad. He’s misspoken. I’ll take him away immediately.”

Yin Jiuxiao waved them off, hinting for them to leave before he genuinely lost his temper. He’d already made his point clear and didn’t want to waste more time disciplining anyone. Why waste time on this when he could go back to holding Lin Qinghen?

If not for dealing with these people, he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.

No one else knew, but today Lin Qinghen was as soft as sugar, almost as if you could take a bite and melt into him.

The whole bed carried his scent, but Lin Qinghen himself had an even stronger scent—a faint, grassy smell that was usually fresh but now, after last night’s events, had a hint of allure, making it hard for Yin Jiuxiao to leave.

The mere thought of it made his heart itch. As soon as he handled everything, he returned to the room, instructing someone to prepare some congee, to be brought in shortly.

When he finally returned quietly, his first glance went straight to the bed.

Lin Qinghen was still lying there, but he seemed to have changed his position, now with his back facing him.

Yin Jiuxiao took a few steps forward, wanting to get on the bed and hold him for a bit longer, but as soon as he touched the bed, Lin Qinghen stirred.

He had just woken up and, upon hearing the noise, guessed who had returned. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes fixed on Yin Jiuxiao, silently watching him.

The corners of Lin Qinghen’s eyes were still red, making him look pitiful.

The memories of last night were still fresh, and as Lin Qinghen opened his eyes, it took him a while to realize what day it was.

His head hurt—dazed, throbbing, confused like mush—and after waking up, he could hardly move, his whole body tingling, especially certain parts aching terribly.

This was even after Yin Jiuxiao had applied medicine in the morning. Last night’s throbbing pain was indescribable, something he didn’t even want to think about.

The fox-like Yin Jiuxiao looked into his eyes with a guilty expression—if only a little.

But he paused only for a moment, his thick skin allowing him to climb onto the bed, pull Lin Qinghen into his arms, give him a kiss on the cheek, and change the subject as if nothing happened: “Qinghen, you’re awake? Would you like to eat something? I just asked someone to prepare congee. Maybe…”

“I don’t want anything to eat. I have no appetite,” Lin Qinghen replied, his voice hoarse, his eyes full of reproach. “Yin Jiuxiao, you’re such a bastard.”