Ji Yuying and Shunya continued walking through the street, ignoring the vendors who still tried to grab their attention.
Ji Yuying glanced at Shunya, then looked down at the bracelet in his hand—as if checking it for a "leak." She sighed inwardly at his innocent absurdity and decided it was time to clarify.
"Honey, bracelets don't leak gas. In fact, no inanimate object can. They're non-living things," she said softly.
Even though he could be childish and frustrating, Ji Yuying never felt truly irritated with Shunya.
She was used to him.
"I see…" Shunya said in a tone that suggested he had just experienced some sort of divine revelation. "But wife, this gas... it's the same as some of the crops I used to harvest when I was farming back in my village."
Ji Yuying froze as if struck by lightning.
She stopped mid-step, her widened eyes staring at him—completely abandoning her usual calm, half-lidded gaze.
Shunya looked at her, puzzled. "Wife?"
Without saying a word, Ji Yuying grabbed his hand and dragged him into a nearby alley, away from the bustling crowd.
What he had just said was not something that should be overheard by others.
Once they were in the empty alley, she extended her divine sense to scan the area for eavesdroppers. Finding no one nearby, she withdrew it and looked straight at Shunya.
"Explain what you mean by those crops," she asked, her tone serious.
Startled by her intensity, Shunya blinked nervously. He wasn't used to this side of her. She always acted strict, but this felt like he was being interrogated.
Still, he answered honestly.
"When I used to farm with my father, our harvests were always better than the other farmers'. I noticed that some of our crops would... gleam a little. They'd be surrounded by this weird gas or fog. I didn't know what it was," he said, scratching the back of his head.
Ji Yuying's heart skipped a beat.
Spiritual crops.
Shunya had just casually described something that cultivators spent entire lifetimes chasing.
The ability to grow spiritual crops from non-spiritual environments was practically impossible—even for someone like her, a supreme immortal in her past life. It required rare formations, spiritual treasures, or sacred lands.
Yet Shunya had done it unknowingly, without any cultivation.
"Why not go back to farming?" Ji Yuying asked after a moment. "I'm healed now. You could ask your uncle to return your land."
"I can't," Shunya said with a small smile. "I traded that land for our house."
Ji Yuying's eyes narrowed.
She had always known that Shunya had given up something valuable to buy their house. But now she realized how badly he had been tricked.
Land near City Lin was worth its weight in gold. Even a single square foot could sell for a fortune.
And Shunya… had exchanged seven thousand square meters of fertile land—land that might still be growing spiritual crops—for a tiny two-story house in a run-down district?
"Your uncle duped you," she said bluntly. There was no point being subtle—Shunya wouldn't understand unless she was direct.
Shunya nodded. "I know. But I wanted to let it go. That land… it was the last gift my father left for me."
His voice turned quiet.
"My father was the first child of my grandparents. He was born mute, and he wasn't very bright. My grandmother hated him for it—said he was useless. But my grandfather, being traditional, at least tolerated him. We were once one of the biggest landowning families in the town."
Ji Yuying remained silent, holding his hand gently as she listened.
"After my grandfather passed away, a small portion of land was given to my father. It wasn't as much as his siblings got, but it was enough for our family to live comfortably. My father started farming. He married a woman from the same village—my mother—but she died giving birth to me. My father raised me alone."
His voice faltered slightly.
"I never went to school. I helped my father on the farm and in the kitchen. Over time, our harvests became better than anyone else's in the region. My father trusted his younger brother—my uncle—and began selling our produce to his food factory."
A trace of bitterness crept into his voice.
"For a while, things were fine. But then, when I turned eighteen, my uncle gave me a red, glowing mushroom. It looked just like the glowing crops we grew—my father loved food made with those. I used it to cook him soup."
Ji Yuying's breath caught.
"I drank that soup too, but I was fine. My father… wasn't. He died from it."
A tear escaped Shunya's eye as he squeezed her hand tightly.
"I don't understand, Yinyin. I drank it too, but nothing happened to me. Why only him…?"
His voice cracked at the end.
Ji Yuying stared at her husband—this kind, naive, honest man who had suffered so much, and never once told her.
Ten years of marriage… and he had carried this burden silently.
Her expression softened. She gently tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips—something she rarely did—quietly reassuring him.
It wasn't your fault.
She didn't need to say it aloud.
Shunya, and his late father, had clearly fallen into a vile scheme.
Though Ji Yuying had seen far worse in her immortal life, the pain felt deeper this time—because it involved her Shunya.
The world might call him an idiot, a fool, even useless or ugly.
But she knew him better than anyone.
And this man—her man—was her bottom line.