Zhou Song lifted the wooden table with both hands, moving it into position, then stood up and stretched his right wrist. After nearly ten days of rest, he’d mostly recovered.

Over the last couple of days, he’d been able to handle lighter chores and even started cooking for himself again. During his recovery, however, every mealtime, either Lin Erzhu or Aunt Wu would bring him food, as if the two households had coordinated it somehow.

But…

Zhou Song lowered his gaze, unconsciously rubbing his wrist. Aside from that first day, Shen Qingzhu hadn’t come by to bring him food again. Since then, Aunt Wu had been the one to deliver his meals each day. Zhou Song figured Shen Qingzhu might have felt it was inappropriate to come by, fearing that being seen bringing food to a Qian Yuan like him would only fuel gossip. That must have been why he’d stopped coming.

Zhou Song agreed this was for the best—avoiding needless trouble. But he couldn’t shake a faint sense of disappointment.

He sighed softly, turning around to retrieve his bow and arrow from the wall, along with other gear he’d need for the mountain. It had been days since he last went hunting, and he felt as if his bones were stiffening. Today’s weather looked good, so he decided to go hunt some game as a gesture of thanks for the two families’ care over the past few days.

Yes, he only wanted to express his gratitude.

Now that the busy farming season had passed, most of the villagers were free. The weather was cooler, so people often gathered to chat along the way. As they saw Zhou Song with his bow, they’d ask if he was heading up the mountain, and he nodded in response.

On the path toward the mountain, he could already hear the rush of water from the river, mixed with the voices of women laughing and chatting as they did laundry.

Zhou Song didn’t pay much attention as he walked by, but upon getting closer, he noticed Wu Lanshu among the women.

“Zhou lad, heading up the mountain so early?” One of the chatting women called out, waving to him.

Wu Lanshu turned her head at the sound.

Zhou Song paused. “Yes, it’s been a while since I went up, so I thought I’d stretch my muscles a bit.”

The village women, used to him frequently going up the mountain, merely smiled and reminded him to be careful. Only Wu Lanshu, glancing at his right hand, asked, “Is your injury fully healed?”

At her words, Zhou Song lifted his right hand, turning his wrist to show her. “It’s fine now, Aunt. No need to worry.”

Relieved, Wu Lanshu still cautioned him, “Alright, but don’t overdo it. A sprained joint may seem healed, but it’s still fragile.”

Zhou Song nodded, assuring her he knew his limits.

As he turned to leave, Wu Lanshu dropped her gaze back to her washing, recalling something. She had wanted to mention that her young master had gone up the mountain out of curiosity, so if Zhou Song encountered him, he might encourage him to return early. However, thinking about it, she held her tongue. After all, one was a Qian Yuan and the other a Kun Ze, and mentioning this would make them seem overly familiar, which could fuel rumors if overheard by others.

Especially since… since returning from town last time, she had often felt that Zhou Song’s attitude toward her young master was too subtly affectionate, enough to raise suspicions. To avoid misinterpretation or gossip, she preferred to steer clear.

Having decided, Wu Lanshu lowered her head and continued her washing. Enough; the young master is no longer a child. He’ll return once he’s tired.

Zhou Song, unaware that the one he often thought of was up on the mountain, slung his bow and followed the narrow trail upward.

At the base of the mountain, the wild fruit bushes were already picked clean. Even the youngest children in Qi Shan Village frequently wandered these parts to play. The shallow slopes were safe enough; the worst one might face were a few scratches from thorns. The village parents let their children run around here, seeing it as a way for them to blow off steam while bringing back some firewood, wild vegetables, or fruit.

The deeper he walked into the forest, the quieter it grew. Even the cicadas seemed fewer lately, with only the occasional birdcall breaking the silence.

Zhou Song moved cautiously, observing his surroundings. Every so often, he’d crouch down to check the bushes, looking for signs of rabbits.

Wild rabbits were extremely vigilant, often digging several exits to their burrows, making it nearly impossible to catch them without careful observation.

Following the tracks he found, Zhou Song moved forward, his steps light.

Pushing aside some tall grass, he spotted a rabbit in the distance, crouched down, nibbling on grass. He slowed his movements, unstrapped his bow, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and carefully nocked it, drawing the bowstring back as he aimed.

The rabbit continued munching, its little ears twitching now and then, looking adorably oblivious.

Unfortunately for it, the person aiming at it wasn’t going to be swayed by its cuteness. Zhou Song’s hand released the bowstring without hesitation.

Just then, an unexpected movement occurred.

Someone stepped out from behind a tree on the other side of the rabbit, startling it. The rabbit bolted, and Zhou Song’s arrow missed, embedding itself into the ground a half-foot in front of the newcomer.

The person, visibly startled, took a step back, bumping into a tree and letting out a muffled grunt.

Zhou Song, initially relieved the arrow hadn’t hit anyone, went still when he recognized the person’s face. He quickly hurried over.

Shen Qingzhu had seen the rabbit and was just approaching when it suddenly dashed off, frightened by the sound of his steps. Before he could feel disappointed, an arrow whizzed by, landing close to his feet. Reflexively, he stepped back, hitting his back painfully against the tree.

“Are you okay?!”

Before Shen Qingzhu even had time to rub his back, a familiar figure was already in front of him, voice filled with concern.

Startled, he looked up to see a familiar, handsome face. “Zhou Song?”

Zhou Song didn’t answer, instead glancing at Shen Qingzhu’s shoulder, which was pressed against the tree trunk. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Reminded by Zhou Song’s words, Shen Qingzhu felt the ache in his shoulder more acutely. Raising a hand to his shoulder, he moved it slightly. “A little.”

Zhou Song, his hand reaching out, paused mid-motion and looked down, feeling both frustrated and guilty. “I’m… sorry…”

As he was rubbing his shoulder, Shen Qingzhu glanced up, noticing Zhou Song’s guilty look. He chuckled. “It’s not your fault. I was the careless one.”

He knew better than to wander aimlessly in the forest.

Zhou Song shook his head. “I frightened you.”

The tall, strong man looked like a scolded puppy, drooping and dispirited. Shen Qingzhu suddenly had the urge to pat his head, curious if he’d find a pair of floppy dog ears hidden there.

He laughed at the thought and changed the subject. “Are you here to hunt?”

“Mm.” Zhou Song nodded.

Seeing Zhou Song still looking downcast, Shen Qingzhu asked, “How’s your hand?”

“It’s all better,” Zhou Song replied immediately, showing him by moving his hand.

“That’s good,” Shen Qingzhu nodded. “Otherwise, I’d feel guilty.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just an accident,” Zhou Song replied, his voice full of sincerity. He couldn’t bear hearing Shen Qingzhu blame himself.

Shen Qingzhu’s smile grew, “Then what happened just now wasn’t your fault, either.”

Zhou Song opened his mouth but couldn’t find a response.

If he continued to insist it was his fault, it would imply that Shen Qingzhu was also to blame.

Realizing he was caught in Shen Qingzhu’s logic, Zhou Song could only nod obediently.

“Now, that’s better.” Shen Qingzhu removed his hand from his shoulder, the pain mostly faded. He straightened, looking at the arrow stuck in the ground. “Too bad. If I hadn’t come over, you would’ve caught that rabbit.”

“It’s fine. I can always try again,” Zhou Song shrugged, walking over to the arrow. Instead of pulling it out, he snapped it with his foot, as if venting his frustration.

Shen Qingzhu was momentarily surprised by Zhou Song’s action, then chuckled but said nothing.

With the arrow dealt with, Zhou Song turned back to him. “Why did you come up the mountain alone? It’s dangerous.”

For a moment, Shen Qingzhu was at a loss. He remembered that this was a shallow part of the mountain, where even the village children often came to forage for wild vegetables. But to Zhou Song, it seemed as if he had ventured deep into a perilous forest.

Shen Qingzhu said nothing, but Zhou Song, worried he’d been too harsh, softened his expression. “I didn’t mean to scold you; I was just concerned you might not be familiar with the area and wander too deep.”

Amused by Zhou Song’s nervousness, Shen Qingzhu reassured him, “I understand.”

Zhou Song finally relaxed. His hand opened and closed, hesitating before he finally summoned the courage to ask, “If you’re not planning to go back down just yet, would you… like to come along and watch me hunt?”

His invitation came partly from his own selfish desire and partly because he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Shen Qingzhu to wander alone, fearing another mishap like earlier.

To his relief, Shen Qingzhu readily nodded. “If it’s no bother to you, I’d love to.”

“It’s no bother at all,” Zhou Song answered quickly. How could it possibly be a bother?

With Shen Qingzhu at his side, Zhou Song slowed his pace, occasionally reminding him to watch his step.

In his usual hunts, Zhou Song would sometimes set traps, digging pits and placing sharpened stakes covered with dry grass to catch animals. But such traps ruined the animal’s fur and were dangerous, so he only used them in remote parts of the mountain where people rarely ventured.

With Shen Qingzhu around, he certainly wouldn’t go that far.

“Wait,” Zhou Song said suddenly, lifting a hand to listen.

Shen Qingzhu froze, holding his breath as he waited.

Zhou Song turned, speaking in a low voice, “Follow me quietly.”

Shen Qingzhu, sensing the tension, nodded.

After reminding him, Zhou Song led the way, moving quietly while drawing an arrow.

They rounded a thicket, and in the distance, a wild pheasant appeared, scratching the ground and clucking softly. Zhou Song had detected it from this sound.

He stopped, drawing his bow and adjusting his aim as the pheasant moved.

Shen Qingzhu’s gaze fell on him.

The muscles in Zhou Song’s arms flexed as he drew the bow, his figure strong and steady. With his intense focus, his expression grew cold, his gaze sharp and intimidating.

He looked vastly different from the silly, puppy-like Zhou Song that Shen Qingzhu usually saw.

Shen Qingzhu, unbeknownst to himself, watched him with a gaze tinged with fascination.

With a soft whoosh, the arrow shot out, piercing the pheasant’s neck before it could make a sound.

“Well done.”

A voice praised him from the side. Zhou Song turned, his fierce aura melting away, his ears turning slightly pink.

Shen Qingzhu’s approving smile grew. “Very impressive.”

Feeling the warmth spreading from his ears to his cheeks, Zhou Song quickly averted his gaze, mumbling, “It’s nothing.” Then he hurried over to retrieve the pheasant.

Shen Qingzhu, understanding his friend’s shyness, remained where he was, watching Zhou Song in the dappled sunlight with a smile.

He was pure-hearted—a rare and precious quality indeed.