Jiang Chen had always prided himself on being a reasonable man.
Calm under pressure.
Poised in the face of chaos.
Untouched by vanity.
But when your own sword was serenading you at dawn, and half the sect's disciples were gazing at you with sparkles in their eyes—
Even he was beginning to question his sanity.
He tried, he really tried, to go back to routine after the whole "confession sword" incident.
He practiced sword forms. Reviewed sect finances. Attempted to teach a class about defensive formations.
But at every turn—
"Look, it's Sect Leader Jiang, the Sword Saint of Romance!"
"I heard if you stand near him, your spiritual resonance improves—because of the purity of his heart!"
"They say he writes poetry at night to calm his mind!"
No, he didn't. He wrote balance sheets. With numbers. And columns. And tragic expenses related to accidental fire damage in the alchemy hall.
He wasn't romantic, he was just tired.
By the time he made it back to his chambers late that evening, all he wanted was one simple cup of tea.
One.
Single.
Cup.
Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.
As he opened the door, he immediately spotted an enormous package sitting square in the middle of his study table.
Wrapped in crimson silk.
With an elegant note on top:
"A gift for the Sovereign of My Heart."
Jiang Chen's eye twitched.
"Who even calls me that?!" he muttered.
Peeling back the note and the silk wrapping, he stared down in mounting horror.
It was…
A book.
An enormous hand-bound volume.
Gilded edges.
Embossed cover.
"Path of the Loving Sword: The Cultivation Manual of Sect Leader Jiang Chen's Journey Through Love and Honor."
"…"
He flipped to the first page.
"Chapter One: How His Eyes Burn Brighter Than Spirit Fire."
The second page.
"Chapter Two: The Gentle Way He Corrects a Junior's Sword Form — An Art in Compassion."
He slammed it shut.
And then flipped it back open again with a strangled noise.
"Appendix One: Compilation of Poetic Sayings Attributed to the Sovereign (Verified by Witnesses)."
"WHO—?!" he choked.
Right on cue, Pei Yun popped her head around the door frame.
"Oh! You got the manual! What do you think?"
He pointed a shaking finger. "Did. You. Do. This."
Pei Yun beamed. "Not entirely! It was a group project."
"WHY."
"Well," she said thoughtfully, stepping inside, "after that Most Swoon-Worthy Swordplay award, your admirers decided it was time to document your legendary ways for future generations. You're an inspiration, Sect Leader."
"I'm not an inspiration! I'm a cultivator who just wants tea!!"
She leaned closer and whispered, "There's even a section on your favorite tea. Page 73."
"I— that's—" Jiang Chen sputtered. "That is NOT public information!"
Pei Yun shrugged innocently. "You talk in your sleep sometimes."
He glared at her.
Then the door slid open again, and Lin Wuyue entered, cheeks faintly pink. She held yet another package.
"Ah, you've seen the book," she murmured.
"You were involved too?!"
"…A little," she admitted. "I just… wanted to make sure your, um, true self was properly recorded."
"My true self does not sparkle!"
Both women exchanged knowing glances.
Lin Wuyue set her package down beside the book. "This is from the outer sect girls."
Inside the box?
Dozens of tiny hand-drawn scrolls.
Miniature portraits of Jiang Chen in various scenes:
Humbly teaching swordplay.
Gazing stoically into the distance.
Offering tea with a faint smile.
Blushing. (He definitely didn't remember blushing like that.)
Each scroll lovingly captioned with phrases like:
"A Glance That Melts Ice."
"A Heart That Guards All."
"A Smile That Could Uplift the Downtrodden."
Jiang Chen sat down very slowly.
Placed his face in both hands.
And groaned.
"Can't I even drink tea in peace anymore?"
Pei Yun plopped into the seat across from him. "Nope."
Lin Wuyue smiled softly. "Not when so many people admire you."
"I don't want to be admired! I want to be left alone!"
Pei Yun poured him a cup of tea. "Too late for that."
He stared forlornly into the cup.
Just then—
Another knock.
A disciple peeked in nervously. "S-Sect Leader Jiang, there's… a delegation here to visit."
Jiang Chen stiffened. "Delegation?"
"They said they're from the Lotus Heart Pavilion… they wish to present you with an honorary title."
Pei Yun snorted into her sleeve.
Lin Wuyue bit her lip.
"…What title?" Jiang Chen asked warily.
The disciple cleared his throat and read from a scroll:
"The Gentle Sovereign of Blossoming Affections."
"…"
Jiang Chen stood up, the very picture of calm.
Marched to the door.
And closed it.
Firmly.
Then turned around and slumped back into his chair.
"I am not going out there," he declared.
Lin Wuyue's lips twitched. "So you're giving up on your duties?"
He gave her a flat look. "I'm taking a strategic retreat."
Pei Yun added cheerfully, "Your strategic retreat is already trending on the sect message boards."
"I don't even HAVE a message board account!"
"Doesn't matter. Someone's posting on your behalf."
Lin Wuyue handed him a fresh cup of tea.
"I know it's overwhelming," she said softly, eyes warm. "But… for what it's worth… you've changed how a lot of people see cultivation."
Jiang Chen blinked. "How so?"
She smiled. "You showed them that strength doesn't have to be cold. That a leader can be gentle… without losing face."
Pei Yun chimed in, "And that sometimes, when you embarrass yourself publicly… it only makes people admire you more."
Jiang Chen sighed.
"…I didn't mean for any of this."
"We know," Lin Wuyue said gently. "But sometimes… these things choose you."
Pei Yun winked. "Besides. You'll be fine. You're our Sovereign, after all."
He looked from one to the other.
The soft affection in Lin Wuyue's gaze.
The teasing warmth in Pei Yun's grin.
And beneath it all — a growing connection he was no longer sure he could deny.
"…I'll survive," he muttered, sipping his tea.
But deep down, a small part of him wondered—
If being admired by them was really so terrible after all.