Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 1009 - 989. Meet

Chapter 1009: 989. Meet

Qiaoqiao looked down at his own shoes... old, with a little mud and melted snow stuck on them.

Then he glanced at his brother’s shoes across from him—so clean!

He tried his best to mimic how his sister usually acted, calmly nodding: "Alright—it’s just that my shoes are bad, not that I’m bad at working."

Lun Chuan almost burst into laughter.

"Yes." He said firmly: "It’s the shoes’ fault, so I’ll move stuff instead."

He handed over the scarf: "Then could you please wrap up this watermelon for me?"

Qiaoqiao suddenly had a new job and was brimming with confidence: "Sure! I’m great at wrapping watermelons."

Meanwhile, Lun Chuan stared at the two cracked watermelons still left in the box on the ground, catching a faint whiff of sweetness in the chilly air and sighing slightly with regret.

The bottom of the box had been soaked a little by melted snow, but it didn’t affect carrying it. Lun Chuan looked at the cucumbers, eggs, and watermelons already placed in his trunk. Then he glanced at Qiaoqiao, who was engrossed in a quiet battle with the cashmere scarf, and asked curiously, "Are all the things in the back seat meant for me?"

Though Song Tan had sent him photos for confirmation earlier, seeing it in reality was different—the sheer quantity felt overwhelming.

It was simply too much.

Without looking up, Qiaoqiao responded, "Mm-hmm, big sister said since deliveries are usually inconvenient for you, she packed a bit extra—yellow heart cabbage, black cabbage, napa cabbage, round cabbage, lettuce, it’s all there! Oh, and a bit of chili peppers, tomatoes..."

Lun Chuan glanced at the assorted baskets and boxes, tempted to say something but finding himself momentarily at a loss, so he simply continued loading everything.

He had naturally great strength and quickly organized everything into the trunk with just a few moves. As soon as he turned his head, someone behind him spoke:

"Huh?"

...

Song Tan held a grilled sausage and spotted someone unloading things by the car from a far distance. The person likely didn’t wear a jacket after exiting the car and was dressed only in a black, half-turtleneck cashmere sweater that accentuated a long neck and skin as pale as snow.

A baseball cap shaded the upper contours of his face, but she could still faintly make out traces of striking red scars.

"Ugh..." She felt a pang of guilt.

She hadn’t anticipated the scars would spread across his head and face. But what brought an even greater sense of guilt was the fact that his constitution was truly rather unusual—his body now...

Ahem.

Let’s put it this way: for ordinary people, consuming even slightly spiritually enriched food would leave only a tenth stored in their bodies.

For her family, who had been subtly influenced over time, it might store perhaps one or two percent.

But he—he could retain thirty to fifty percent. Over the long term, this meant extended lifespan, good health, and an increasingly excellent physical state. But this also had its limitations; he wouldn’t turn into any sort of Superman.

However, every benefit comes with drawbacks. For example, the abundance of stored spiritual energy in his body made him highly resistant to external pollution, resulting in sensitive skin, leaving him intolerant of...

Certain inconveniences in daily life.

Just little things...

From a distance, he was like a soft moonlit glow distinct from everyone around him—a presence that immediately stood out.

Song Tan felt even guiltier now.

She quickened her footsteps and saw him finishing with the unloading, rolling up his sleeves as if to move onto the next task. She hesitated for a moment, then blurted out—

"...Already done unloading?"

Lun Chuan turned around.

Under the glow of the streetlamp, his features seemed filtered, with even the surprise and humor in his eyes vividly highlighted.

Pausing briefly, he replied, "Mm. Sorry, I got here late."

Saying this, he glanced again at Song Tan. The fair-skinned, radiant young woman before him was quite different from the weary, pitiful figure he faintly remembered, burdened with a deep sense of exhaustion.

Song Tan, now overwhelmed with guilt, felt unable to say anything at that moment. Besides, she’d never been rushed, and if she had been, wouldn’t just one quick call have sufficed? Surely, he would’ve picked up.

She handed the grilled sausage to Qiaoqiao: "Here, eat up quickly before it gets stone cold."

Qiaoqiao exclaimed "Wow!" and eagerly accepted it, clearly abandoning whatever he’d been saying moments ago. Which made Lun Chuan unable to resist glancing at him again.

Then he asked, "Did you guys skip a meal? Want to eat something?"

Song Tan waved her hand: "No need, we’ll just eat at the hotel later—what’s this?"

She picked up the white scarf from Qiaoqiao’s arms, examining its odd arrangement. Somehow, it had been tied into a series of knots, and the final result hung in a way eerily reminiscent of a human head being presented to the Emperor in some dramatic TV series...

Ahem.

Song Tan reined in her wandering thoughts, focusing instead on the faint red stain slowly spreading at the end of the cashmere scarf. She turned her gaze to Lun Chuan:

"Your scarf? Used it to wrap a watermelon?"

Her watermelons were prized, yes—but hardly worth sacrificing a scarf of this quality!

Lun Chuan paused: "Mm, it just slipped a little, and the watermelon fell—don’t worry, the scarf can go to the dry cleaner."

Song Tan finally exhaled in relief. She thought for a moment before turning to Qiaoqiao: "Who dropped the watermelon?"

Qiaoqiao quickly took a bite of his sausage and awkwardly dodged the question: "Sis, my shoes are old! I even made you a snowball—huh, where’s my snowball?"

He started to panic. He had spent ages shaping it!

Lun Chuan couldn’t help but laugh. On snowy days, the crisp air always felt refreshing, putting him in a pleasant mood. Gesturing at a partially melted patch of snow on the ground, he said:

"Is it this? You seemed to have stepped on it earlier..."

It was precisely stepping on this semi-melted pile of snow that caused Qiaoqiao to slip—almost falling over himself.

The watermelon naturally also...

Qiaoqiao instantly wilted: "I stepped on my snowball, and the watermelon slipped too..."

Song Tan immediately pieced it together. She turned her gaze to Qiaoqiao, figuring she’d need to give a proper talk back at the hotel tonight. How could he mess things up and let others take the blame? This benefactor of theirs, what exactly did he do anyway? He certainly wielded words quite masterfully—

Who dropped the watermelon was left completely ambiguous. Was he purposely hedging?

Still, Lun Chuan could at least count as a familiar acquaintance, so Song Tan didn’t hold back. She tugged Qiaoqiao and prompted him: "Hurry up and eat. Afterward, get in the car."

Then she turned to Lun Chuan with a smile: "With the snow falling, I need to hurry back to the hotel... Don’t forget to come to the pig-slaughter feast!"

Thinking further, she added, "I might leave in two days—want to go together? I’ve got a car."

Lun Chuan shook his head: "No need to trouble yourself. I’ll bring my mom and two friends; they’ll be traveling from another province. I hope it won’t be too much of a bother?"

Song Tan waved dismissively, unable to deal with his politeness: "Didn’t I already tell you? My mom’s prepared rooms for all of you. Come on, just bring everyone along—we’ll have ten tables at the feast that day!"

She waved again and added, "You should head back first; it’s so cold."

He wasn’t even wearing a padded jacket.

Lun Chuan wasn’t particularly bothered by the cold. Besides, the outdoor air felt much better than staying inside a car. But after glancing at Qiaoqiao, he didn’t refuse. Offering his thanks, he turned and drove off.

Once in the car, Qiaoqiao exclaimed, "Sis, Brother is so pretty!"

Song Tan was typing a reply to their driver—he’d gone to the nearby Golden Arches for the restroom, queued up briefly, and apologized he’d be back within ten minutes...

It wasn’t much of an issue. Song Tan responded with a word and casually humored Qiaoqiao: "Yes, very pretty."

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