The room was simple, with plain wooden walls, a bed, and a small wooden table beside it. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration, only the essentials. A young woman was leaning over the bed, her hands delicately tending to a young man swathed in white bandages.

“Father told me that if you don’t show signs of waking soon, he’ll throw you right back into that river,” she whispered with a soft chuckle. Brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, she continued, “He also mentioned he’s not too happy about how much time I've been spending with you. Says you’re nothing but trouble.”

"It's just... there was something about you, I feel like I can’t leave your side."

She paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before confessing further. “I know I shouldn’t be saying all this to an unconscious stranger, but... you’re a good listener.”

A small smile played on her lips. “It’s weird to think that just a week ago, father fished you out from that lake. Had he not acted so quickly, you would've either succumbed to your grave injuries or...” she shuddered at the thought, “become a meal for one of those monstrous creatures in the lake.”

Engrossed in her monologue, she failed to notice the young man's eyelids flutter open. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room, he found himself staring into the beautiful face of his caretaker. A beauty like this... in the mortal realm? he thought, awestruck.

"It’s time to change the bandages on this leg," she mumbled, moving to undo the bandages wrapped around Hughie's thigh. Suppressing his excitement, Hughie closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness.

The room's stillness was broken when the door burst open with a bang. An older man stormed in, his eyes narrowing at the scene before him. Without a word, he marched up to the bed and delivered a resounding slap to Hughie’s face.

Hughie, caught off-guard, winced from the sharp sting and exclaimed, "What the hell was that for, old man?"

The young woman, her face flushed with surprise and anger, stood up to confront her father. "Father! Why would you do that?"

The old man, unmoved by his daughter's outburst, glanced disdainfully at Hughie. "I knew he was pretending. Trouble indeed."

“But now that the scoundrel's awake, he can change his own bandages."

Hughie's eyes darted around, realizing he had given himself away. He hastily closed his eyes again, trying to feign unconsciousness. However, sensing the imminent arrival of the old man's fist towards his face, he hastily blurted, "Alright, alright, I'm awake."

"Father, he's still too injured," the young woman, concern evident in her voice, interjected. Hughie nodded fervently in agreement.

The father’s face darkened as he addressed his daughter, "Oliviare, it isn’t proper for a young woman like you to be doing this," his gaze then shifted mischievously to Hughie, a somewhat lecherous grin forming on his lips. "I'll handle this," he declared, grabbing a set of fresh bandages.

Hughie's eyes widened in alarm. Why do the old geezers always take a liking to me? he thought desperately. Pain flared across his body as he raised his hand in a stopping gesture. "Uncle is right, I can do it myself."

The old man laughed heartily and tossed the bandages at Hughie, who caught them despite the jolt of pain from the sudden movement. Oliviare smiled softly, providing him with a blanket for modesty as he changed his bandages.

"I'm Oliviare, and this stubborn old man is my father, Brom," she introduced them, explaining that they had found him three days ago, washed up by the lake.

Three days? Hughie was taken aback, not just by the time he'd been out, but also by the fact that mere mortals had managed to save him. I was sure I'd be dead unless some heaven-defying treasure intervened.

Noticing his confusion, Oliviare added, "When we found you, there was a healing herb, Starbloom Euphorbia, attached to your body. I guess it must have been carried by the current.”

A sigh of relief escaped Hughie. Of course. Another one of those serendipitous occurrences in my life. He thought, trying to recall the moments leading up to the river. He had grown accustomed to these bizarre strokes of luck. In fact, he mused, I’d probably be more startled if these strange events stopped happening.

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Two days had slipped by in what seemed like moments. Hughie sensed that activating his Bloodforge Ascension technique might now fully heal him. Yet, an unfamiliar feeling settled in his heart, he realized he wasn’t quite ready to return to the sect. There was something that urged him to linger in this village, and as he listened to Oliviare animatedly discuss the upcoming Moon Blossom Festival, the reason became clearer.

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"I can't wait for the Moon Blossom Festival!" she said, her eyes shining with excitement. "The entire village gathers, there's music, dance, and the best food you can imagine!"

I don’t want to leave her yet, he thought wistfully. Hughie's mind wandered to his past — a time before the sect and the comfort it brought. Having been an orphan, he was familiar with loneliness until his master had found him, giving his life purpose. The thought of the sect made him wonder if anyone would truly miss him. While images of his master and senior siblings flitted through his mind, he dismissed them, They would probably be better off without me.

His train of thought was abruptly halted when Oliviare, her cheeks tinted a delicate shade of pink, asked, "Would you... perhaps, like to accompany me to the festival?"

Caught off guard, Hughie scratched the back of his head, a bit flustered, "I'd love to, Oliviare."

The door burst open, and in marched Brom, grumbling, "Don’t think I won't have my eye on you, lad."

Hughie sighed internally. This old man is really something.

As nightfall wrapped the village in its embrace, Hughie found himself alone in his room. Laid out for him were the clothes Oliviare had provided - simple yet elegant village attire. He swapped his cultivator robes for them, noting that the bandages across his chest remained concealed beneath.

Gazing at his reflection, he wondered, Is this what people consider... a date?

He retrieved a small locket from his storage ring. It was an odd treasure he'd stumbled upon years ago, one that suppressed a cultivator's qi. Why would anyone want to seal off their cultivation? He had often thought, leaving the locket untouched within his ring. Now, he saw its purpose.

Slowly, he placed the locket around his neck. For a brief instant, it emitted a soft purple glow, and Hughie felt his connection to his cultivation cut off, as if severed by an unseen hand. "Hughie the cultivator is dead," he muttered to himself, "Tonight, I am Hughie the mortal."

A gentle knock on the door drew him from his musings. "Enter," he called.

Oliviare stepped in, and Hughie felt his breath catch in his throat. She was dressed in a beautiful gown that accentuated her milky white skin and large brown eyes. She looked radiant and ethereal.

"What do you think?" she asked shyly, her eyes twinkling like the first stars of the evening.

Hughie stammered, momentarily lost for words. "You... you look stunning," he managed finally.

Just as he spoke, Brom appeared at the doorway. His frown deepened as he caught Hughie's words. "You'd better take good care of her," the father warned sternly.

Oliviare's face scrunched into a pout, "Father! Don't be so hard on Hughie."

Brom shook his head, chuckling despite his feigned annoyance. "If I'm not careful, I'll have to answer to your mother in the next life," he said, a hint of longing in his voice.

At the mention of her mother, Oliviare’s head dipped, a shadow briefly crossing her face. Hughie, seeing her sudden sadness, found himself at a loss for words. What should I say?

But then, as quickly as it had come, her gloom lifted. She raised her head, a determined spark in her eyes. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice regaining its earlier excitement.

Hughie nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. "Yes, let's go."

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The festival was a grand affair. Lanterns of every hue illuminated the village square. Musicians played their traditional instruments, filling the air with melodies both haunting and upbeat. Stalls lined the perimeter, offering an array of treats from steamed buns to skewered meats. Children ran around with joyous laughter, while the older villagers danced to the beat of the drums.

Amidst this jubilation walked Hughie and Oliviare, side by side, their arms almost touching but not quite. They moved through the crowd, occasionally stealing glances at each other but quickly looking away whenever their eyes met.

"It's lovely, isn't it? The Moon Blossom Festival only comes once a year, but it always feels magical," Oliviare tried to initiate conversation, her voice a mix of cheerfulness and nervous energy.

"Yes, it's quite different from what I'm used to," Hughie responded, his attention partially on the festivities and partially on her.

Gathering her courage, Oliviare asked the question that had been burning in her mind. "What is it like... being an immortal?"

He sighed, a sound tinged with unexpected sorrow. "Lonely," was all he said.

"And if you had a companion? Would you still feel lonely then?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hughie gave her a sad smile. "I’ve not found an immortal who has captured my heart." I always thought I'd build a harem of celestial beauties, he mused internally, then chuckled silently at his own foolishness. But then, plans have a funny way of changing, don’t they?

"Hughie, do you think a mortal could...steal your heart?" she asked hesitantly.

Time seemed to slow as he gazed deeply into her eyes, causing a rush of color to her cheeks. "I believe she already has," he confessed softly.

Just as Hughie leaned forward, their lips nearly touching, a loud commotion shattered the moment. They turned to see four cultivators descending from the sky, riding swords of gleaming energy.

Hughie's expression hardened as he gripped Oliviare's hand. "Stay behind me," he whispered, a surge of protectiveness overwhelming him.

The cultivators landed with arrogant grace. The leader, brimming with the powerful aura of the Core Formation stage, exuded the haughtiness typical of a young master. His entourage, though only at the Foundation Establishment stage, shared his overbearing demeanor.

"Have any of you villagers seen an injured immortal around here?" one of the lackeys demanded loudly.

A brave villager shook his head, "No, sir, no immortals here."

In a swift, threatening motion, the lackey grabbed the villager by the neck. "You'd best not be lying, old man," he snarled.

Fear took hold, and the poor villager soiled himself, shaking his head frantically in terror.

Things are about to get complicated, Hughie thought, preparing for what might come next.