For the next week, Churan did some light exercise every morning after waking up. Shallow Peace had also planned to settle temporarily in this city, occasionally checking on Churan’s condition.
Fortunately, Churan’s illness hadn’t flared up again—a small mercy.
Noticing Churan’s new morning routine, Shallow Peace bought him a treadmill. Churan tried to refuse but finally accepted it. Forbidden from going out freely yet needing exercise, the treadmill became a lifeline.
He couldn’t run fast anyway. In this tiny hospital room, he could barely take a few steps, let alone jog.
Meanwhile, He Yucheng smoothly leveled up to 44 over a week of uninterrupted grinding. Just one level away from learning the UltimateArt—but that was within reach.
Lengjiang still accompanied He Yucheng on daily quests as usual. Occasionally, Churan would initiate voice chats, hoping to draw Lengjiang out of her shell while keeping himself company.
At first, Lengjiang stammered nervously over voice chat, barely forming sentences. By the end of the week, she could finally converse normally with Churan—a small victory.
As for Shallow Peace, she visited Churan sporadically, often bringing medicinal teas. Though bitter, they were harmless and good for him. Churan felt deeply indebted. He silently vowed to be a proper "tutor" if given the chance.
He’d already signed the contract Shallow Peace provided. When he handed it to her, her faint smile carried a fox-like slyness that sent a chill down his spine. It felt less like a job agreement and more like selling himself into servitude.
But the deed was done. Beyond a faint sense of fatigue upon waking, Churan felt no discomfort all week.
Song Qian also dropped by regularly with meals. He’d bumped into Shallow Peace a few times, greeting her awkwardly before sitting far away—her intimidating aura was overwhelming.
Shallow Peace had tried conversing with him too, but Song Qian just froze like a deer caught in headlights. Their exchanges turned into stiff Q&A sessions.
She’d even asked about post-graduation job referrals. But Song Qian came from a wealthy merchant family—he’d never worry about money. That’s why everyone called him "Song Qian" ("Sending Cash").
He knew about Churan’s contract and had discreetly asked Shallow Peace for her address. She told him, knowing he was entrusted by Churan’s aunt to look after him.
…
Beside a luxurious seaside villa, a sleek car approached slowly before halting at the iron gate.
The old butler, sweeping under the midday sun, glanced up. Shallow Peace had mentioned she’d return late. Only she and her sister Xin Qian lived here—who could it be?
His face paled when he recognized the license plate. Panic flashed in his eyes. He dropped his broom, trying to slip past the freshly trimmed hedges toward the villa’s side entrance. But two icy stares pinned him in place.
Resignation settled on his weathered face. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. After a long pause, he trudged heavily toward the gate.
The gate opened. The car rolled in and parked. Two middle-aged men stepped out, both impeccably dressed in formal suits—clearly high-society figures. Yet their faces were storm clouds, ready to burst.
"Master, Madam… why didn’t you tell us you were returning?" the butler stammered, his eyes darting to a curtained window upstairs.
Yes—the villa’s true owners had arrived: Xin Qian and Shallow Peace’s parents.
The man’s thick brows knotted. "Tell you? So you could tip them off?"
The butler’s heart sank. *Disaster.*
Shallow Peace wasn’t home. Only Xin Qian was inside—and her reclusive state was exactly what they despised.
"Are both Xiao Xin and Xiao An home?" the elegant woman asked coldly. Their return was sudden; they’d planned to come back in half a month. No warning. No calls.
Shallow Peace had anticipated Chen Haoxuan might tattle—but she’d expected angry phone calls first. With the company in crisis, her parents shouldn’t have been able to leave. This was beyond her calculations.
They were back. Unannounced.
The butler’s fingers dug into his trousers, damp with sweat. "Miss Shallow Peace is working late… only Miss Xin Qian is home."
He prayed Xin Qian would step out of her room. But it was noon—school hours. Her staying home meant only one thing:
Xin Qian hadn’t transformed into the obedient daughter they wanted. She was still holed up, skipping school entirely.
And the parents’ icy tone already revealed they knew Shallow Peace had lied.
He could only lie about Shallow Peace’s whereabouts. Xin Qian’s presence was undeniable. Once they entered, punishment was inevitable.
Xin Qian was doomed. The butler desperately hoped she’d notice the commotion outside her window—but her curtains hadn’t been opened in years.
"Hmph! That ungrateful girl still won’t repent!" the man snarled, slamming his fist against the car door.
The butler’s face turned ashen. He muttered prayers under his breath, wishing Xin Qian would miraculously glance outside. If she pretended to be studying… maybe there’d be hope. But that was impossible.
"Let it go. At least we have Xiao An. What use is that other daughter?" the woman said, placing a hand on her husband’s arm. The butler’s chest tightened.
*This* was why Shallow Peace disliked her parents.
No one’s perfect. They obsessed over grades and "prospects." That same fixation had crippled their company when it stumbled—making recovery impossible.
"Hmph! Without Xiao An, that good-for-nothing would’ve killed me with rage!" Qian Jingzhen—father to both girls—shoved his car keys into his pocket. He stormed into the villa, fury radiating from every step.
His wife followed, her beautiful eyes blazing with equal anger…
The butler’s hands trembled. The moment they vanished inside, he fumbled for his phone, dialing frantically…
*Beep… beep…* "The number you have dialed is switched off. Please try again later…"
Despair flooded his eyes as he stared blankly at the villa’s upper floor…
…
Shallow Peace lounged happily on a hotel bed, surrounded by shopping bags from her day out.
Even the most composed girls loved retail therapy.
*Vrrt.* Her phone buzzed. She sat up, frowning at the caller ID—*the butler*.
She’d instructed him: only call for emergencies involving Xin Qian. Texts sufficed otherwise. A call meant trouble. But she’d just left Churan’s hospital room—Xin Qian had been happily gaming with him minutes ago. What could’ve happened?
"Hello—"
"Miss Shallow Peace! Disaster! The master… the master and madam are back!" The butler’s voice was ragged, breathless.
Shallow Peace froze mid-gesture. Her face turned to ice. After a long pause, panic broke through. "What?! And my sister? She’ll be—"
"Yes! They’re already upstairs—" The butler sounded like a cornered animal. Frail and old, he couldn’t stop them.
Only Shallow Peace could intervene—but she was provinces away!
She gritted her teeth, forcing calm. Xin Qian would face their parents’ wrath alone. Her fragile psyche couldn’t withstand it without Shallow Peace’s protection.
"I’m heading to the airport now. Watch Xin Qian—she might run away!" Shallow Peace snapped. She stood, icy composure settling over her features as she strode out the door.
Her bodyguards, packing luggage nearby, stiffened at her expression.
"You two—drive. The rest stay."
"Understood!"
