Return to Before the Villain’s Corruption

Qin Donglin had been staying in Lin'an City these days, in the courtyard house that Ruan Yuan had purchased.

It was the height of spring and summer, when flowers, grass, butterflies, and insects emerged in abundance from dense thickets and lush green patches. By morning, the courtyard buzzed with the hum of insects, and nameless birds chirped leisurely from the branches—even without visitors, the place was lively.

When Qiu Shi arrived, Ruan Yuan was lightly tilling the top layer of soil with a floral hoe. She pulled a small sachet from her sleeve, opened it, and poured out a fine, golden-hued sand that shimmered under the sunlight. It clung softly to the soil before being absorbed entirely.

At this time of year, the midday sun was not harsh but carried a gentle warmth, gilding everything in a radiant glow. The small courtyard nestled in the countryside seemed like a corner unfurled from a painting.

"Aunt Ruan."

By the time Qiu Shi reached the courtyard, she had already composed herself. Her voice was sweet and coquettish, carrying the unique charm of a young girl’s playful affection—enough to melt anyone’s heart.

"Little Shi?"

Ruan Yuan wore a loose, pale gray robe, resembling a Daoist garment, the kind she donned while tending to plants. Leaning on her slender floral hoe, she turned and smiled warmly at Qiu Shi. "Here to see Donglin?"

Over tens of thousands of years, Qiu Shi had come looking for Qin Donglin countless times. So much so that now, whether it was his parents or his trusted subordinates, they would always greet her with this teasing question—ostensibly an inquiry, but in truth, a gentle ribbing.

"I came to see you too, Aunt Ruan."

When Qiu Shi wanted to charm someone, her words dripped like honey, every syllable sweet and endearing.

Ruan Yuan had only Qin Donglin as her son, and she genuinely adored and indulged this girl, the daughter of a close friend who had been betrothed to him since childhood.

As a result, Qiu Shi’s status in Liugi Mountain was practically on par with Qin Donglin’s—she was treated as half a master of the household.

A maid handed Ruan Yuan a clean handkerchief, and she carefully wiped the soil from her fingers. After exchanging a few quiet words with Qiu Shi, she gestured toward a row of small houses to the north with a knowing smile. "Donglin returned late last night. He just finished practicing his sword and is probably freshening up inside now."

"Take him with you for breakfast later."

Ruan Yuan gave Qiu Shi’s hand a playful squeeze. "If you don’t come, he won’t pay me any attention."

Cultivators placed little importance on culinary pleasures—eating and drinking were mere pastimes, something to indulge in occasionally for amusement.

But Qin Donglin couldn’t even be bothered with that. He’d rather bury himself in a secret chamber or a sword hall than waste energy on such trivialities. Ruan Yuan often complained that he was as dull as a block of wood—only when Qiu Shi was around did he seem to come alive.

And Ruan Yuan loved seeing that spark in him.

"Go on."

She patted Qiu Shi’s hand and thoughtfully set up a barrier around the northern houses.

Almost the moment she stepped past the barrier, Qiu Shi’s smile faltered.

If the previous absurdities had felt like a dream, then the repeated strange occurrences now left no room for denial.

What if those were real—events that had already happened, or were yet to come?

Qiu Shi couldn’t help but wonder: If that day, she had stubbornly stood her ground with her family over Cheng Yi’s matter, and Song Chengshu, in a fit of anger, had issued a secret kill order—what then? If she had discovered it and fled the city overnight with the still-unconscious Cheng Yi…

In such a scenario, she wouldn’t have reached out to Qin Donglin with a sound transmission jade, and even if he had come to Lin'an City, he wouldn’t have barged into the main city.

Would she have left everything behind in a fit of defiance—her status, her home, her family, her friends, even the musical path she had trained in since childhood?

She couldn’t stop imagining that scenario. If all of it were true, what would their reunion have been like?

Her fleeing with Cheng Yi would have confirmed the rampant rumors. Even if both the main city and Liugi Mountain declared their betrothal null, it wouldn’t have mattered. Born a prodigy, how could Qin Donglin—with his prideful nature—tolerate the open mockery and veiled jabs?

It would have been the greatest stain on his reputation.

Put another way: If Qin Donglin had run off with another woman, leaving her to face endless gossip, she would have drawn her sword and run him through the next time they met.

She almost wished he would.

At least that would be better than the cold indifference of strangers.

The house was right in front of her. Qiu Shi tried several times to force a smile, but each attempt felt stiff and unnatural. In the end, she crouched outside the threshold, staring blankly at the distant blue sky, her thoughts a tangled mess.

Cheng Yi.

Just what kind of existence was Cheng Yi?

How had he managed to manipulate both her and Mo Ruanruan so effortlessly?

In these two incidents, was he truly above suspicion?

Was he really just a kind, selfless helper—completely innocent?

When Qin Donglin pushed the door open, Qiu Shi merely lifted her eyes listlessly. Recognizing him, she silently lowered her lashes again, like a dejected little creature that had lost all hope in life, not even bothering to shift her body.

"Song Qiushi."

Qin Donglin seemed to have just finished washing up. The ends of his flowing black hair were still damp, beads of water clinging to them. He wore a loose, moon-colored outer robe casually over his shoulders, revealing a long neck and swathes of skin as pale and smooth as cold jade. His entire demeanor exuded a lazy, slightly impatient air, his voice slightly hoarse as he spoke: "You’re playing door guardian at my place first thing in the morning?"

There ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‍was an innate aggressiveness and an overwhelming sense of pressure about him.

Qiu Shi didn’t move, burying her face in the crook of her arm, too dispirited to speak.

For once, she didn’t jump up to retort.

Qin Donglin raised a brow, eyeing the small, curled-up figure on the ground before delivering a terse command: "Get up."

After a long pause, Qiu Shi mumbled sullenly, "No."

In the past, Qin Donglin would have simply turned on his heel and walked inside, and within moments, she would have peeked out from behind a beam, sneaking glances at him.

After all, once she was in front of him, she never let him have a moment’s peace—that was just her usual way.

But today, her mood was clearly off.

Qin Donglin stopped beside her. After a brief hesitation, he crouched down, pressing his fingers to his temple as if worn down by her antics. "Who upset you this time?"

"You."

Qiu Shi’s muffled reply came without hesitation.

Fine.

Qin Donglin straightened up, deciding he couldn’t be bothered with her.

Before stepping inside, he tossed out carelessly, "I’m going into the training chamber. Entertain yourself."

"As for this door," he glanced at the doorframe, pausing briefly, "you can squat here as long as you like."

The moment he finished speaking, Qiu Shi shifted slightly. She tilted her small face up, brows furrowed, and said, "My legs are numb."

Cultivating immortality, only to end up with legs going numb from squatting for a while.

Others cultivated the path to immortality—she must have been cultivating a joke.

Qin Donglin stared at her for a long moment, but she didn’t show even a hint of guilt or embarrassment. With a resigned sigh, he turned back and held out a hand to her, his tone far from gentle: "Get up already. Go back wherever you came from."

Qiu Shi’s slender fingers, delicate as spring onions, slowly settled into his palm. With a slight tug, he pulled her up—she was as light as a wisp of cotton, barely any weight to her at all.

The moment she was on her feet, Qin Donglin withdrew his hand. But as if discovering something fascinating, she turned his palm over, studying it closely before asking, "How come you have calluses?"

As a swordsman, it would be strange if his hands didn’t bear calluses from years of wielding a blade. Yet the way she said it—soft, surprised, as if it were some rare phenomenon—nearly made even Qin Donglin second-guess himself for a moment.

A vein twitched faintly at his temple. He was starting to get a headache. Expressionlessly, he pulled his hand back. "Must you always be so improper?"

What kind of girl just grabs a man’s hand to inspect it?

Qiu Shi let out a slow "Oh," looking a little unhappy but, for once, not making a fuss. She was surprisingly well-behaved.

After that, she trailed behind Qin Donglin like a little shadow, following him wherever he went.

Only when he stopped abruptly at the entrance to the training chamber did she realize—too late—and bump into him. She stumbled back, clutching her nose with a sharp hiss.

"I’m going into the chamber." Qin Donglin tapped the plaque hanging above the door with a long finger, his phoenix-like eyes lowering to gaze down at her. "Why are you following me?"

"You do your training. I won’t disturb you."

Qin Donglin took a deep breath. Leaning against the doorframe, he mustered the last of his patience before forcing his voice to soften. "Out with it. What’s really going on? Who upset you, or what do you want?"

Qiu Shi shook her head, the tip of her nose tinged red, her eyes rimmed with a faint flush.

Qin Donglin had the sudden intuition that if he refused her one more time, the tears welling in her eyes would start falling like pearls.

He couldn’t help wondering if she’d spent too much time with that notorious crybaby from the Celestial Clan lately, picking up the skill effortlessly.

"For the next few days, I’m sticking with you. Wherever you go, I go."

Qiu Shi spoke as if completely oblivious to his expression, her voice still muffled and stubborn.

Qin Donglin frowned, locking eyes with her, his expression dark enough to scare children into crying.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them entered the training chamber one after the other.

The chamber was sparsely furnished, with only two meditation mats. A pocket dimension had been set up inside, vast enough for unrestricted sword practice.

"Stay back. If you get hurt, don’t come crying to me."

With a look that clearly said I can’t be bothered with you, Qin Donglin waited until Qiu Shi had retreated to the edge before tossing a protective barrier around her. Only then did he pick up his sword.

The sword in his hand was a fine weapon, its name given whimsically by Qiu Shi in a moment of inspiration—Autumn Water Sword. It sounded like something a woman would wield, and Qin Donglin had initially been reluctant to use it. But she chattered endlessly in his ear, calling it "Autumn Water" over and over until, with time, the name grew on him, and he resigned himself to using it.

Qin Donglin’s features were strikingly beautiful, especially when his hair was loose and his robes draped carelessly, like an ancient painting brushed with effortless grace—as if he were an immortal who had stepped out of an old scroll.

He raised the sword, its aura surging forth, slicing the surrounding spiritual energy into fragmented wisps. The sequence of movements had only just begun when—

Qiu Shi suddenly called out to him.

Qin Donglin closed his eyes in a slow, long-suffering blink.

How foolish of him to believe her again—her promises of "absolutely no noise, not a single sound"—when they were nothing but empty words.

Qiu Shi shifted her footing and appeared a short distance away from him in an instant.

"Just one question," she said, holding up a single finger under his watchful gaze. Her expression was unreadable, and after a pause, she asked, "If I—if I ran off with someone else, and you saw me again, would you…?"

Her voice trailed off as Qin Donglin’s brows furrowed deeper, the last three words—"ignore me"—barely more than a whisper.

Silence filled the chamber for a long moment.

Then, Qin Donglin sheathed his sword and let out a low, husky chuckle, the sound sending an eerie shiver down one’s spine in the dim light.

"Ran off with someone," he repeated, rolling the words around with dark amusement before lifting his gaze. "Who?"

"Cheng Yi?"

Qiu Shi sensed the danger instantly and shook her head so vigorously it was like a rattle drum. Her eyes were striking—glistening, clear as gemstones—and her words carried an earnestness that made them hard to disbelieve. "No! I just… had a dream about it, that’s all."

Qin Donglin held her gaze for a long while before finally speaking.

"When you were little, you used to dream about me being chased and beaten by my father."

The next day, she would sob while clutching a bottle of medicine, chasing after him with her tiny, hiccuping steps, terrified he might die from the beating.

"The last time you dreamed, you saw me poisoned."

She forced him to swallow detox pills for three whole days until he fled at the sight of her, refusing to hear the word "dream" for a long time afterward.

"And now, you’ve dreamed of running off with someone."

Then, at the crack of dawn, she planted herself outside his door like a guardian spirit, insisting on following him into the training chamber—claiming it was to oversee his cultivation, when really, it was just another excuse to chatter away.

Qin Donglin rarely strung so many words together. He paused, then added, "Song Qiushi, next time you have a spare moment, instead of sleeping, why not train with Song Yunhe?"

"And if you must dream—could you at least dream of something good?"