Chapter 54: Thermal Loop: The Ambiguity Woven by Code

Pei Yue’s question, “Did you already know this jade ornament would recognize you as its master?” pierced Shen Yan’s nerves like a fine needle. Before he could respond, a low hum rose from the center of the pool. The dark blue runes suddenly flared, as if the entire icy veins of the cold pond had been awakened.

The countdown for the thermal loop reached zero.

Golden threads exploded, spreading from the nape of their necks where they touched, extending across their entire bodies. Shen Yan felt a surge of cold energy pour into his Consciousness Sea through his palm. His Source Code Spiritual Root trembled violently, and the phone interface forcibly popped up in his mind—

【Thermal Conduction Protocol v0.9a loading…】

“Alright, alright, stop lagging,” Shen Yan gritted his teeth, his fingertips lightly tapping in the empty air as if typing on an invisible keyboard. “This time, no fancy special effects—just the simplest model.”

He muttered under his breath, “Activate temperature control algorithm. Target body temperature: 36.5 degrees Celsius. Feedback source set to Pei Yue’s surface temperature simulator… Damn it, this thing doesn’t even have a calibration button.”

Golden code slithered like serpents, seeping from his right palm, coiling around the Star-Shattering Token Imitation before slowly spreading along Pei Yue’s meridians. Her limbs were still covered in ice crystals, her breathing faint. She looked like a frozen glass beauty, trapped in time.

“Thermal conductivity efficiency is too low,” Shen Yan frowned. “The system notice says contact area is insufficient… Are you trying to make me take off my clothes?”

As soon as he finished speaking, a new line of green text popped up on the terminal:

【Warning: Thermal medium impedance too high】

【Suggest increasing physical contact area to optimize energy transmission】

Shen Yan rolled his eyes. “Is this a Cultivation system or a dating simulator?”

But there was no other choice at the moment. He took a deep breath, reached up to tear off his soaked outer robe, leaving only a thin inner garment. His arm muscles tensed as he carefully lifted Pei Yue’s upper body, pressing her back against his chest.

The temperature difference was bone-chilling. Her coldness was like a blade, his heat like a furnace. The two forces collided, stirring faint ripples of Spiritual Energy.

“From now on, you’re my constant-temperature server,” he murmured. “Don’t you dare crash.”

Golden code rose from his spine, winding along his arm to her waist, forming a Closed Loop Circuit. The program finally stabilized and began to run. The body temperature monitoring bar slowly climbed—33, 34, 35…

Just as it was about to break through the critical point, Pei Yue suddenly opened her eyes.

The frost on her eyelashes fell away in a flurry. Her gaze was clear but weak. “Program operation… requires skin contact for heat conduction?”

Shen Yan stiffened, almost typing the code into the wrong line. “Y-yes. For efficiency.”

She didn’t speak. Instead, she grabbed his wrist with her hand and gently pulled—

In the next moment, his palm was pressed beneath her clothing, firmly against her chest.

The sound of her heartbeat transmitted through his palm, rapid and clear.

“This way… faster,” she said, then closed her eyes as if she had exhausted all her strength.

Shen Yan’s mind crashed on the spot.

“Holy shit! This operation is way too over the line!” he screamed inwardly. “This isn’t writing code—this is modifying heart rate parameters!”

But his body was more honest than his mind. He didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he instinctively adjusted the output power, allowing the heat flow to permeate her meridians more evenly.

Suddenly, the System Interface began to flash wildly. The once orderly Code Flow started jumping erratically, as if maliciously tampered with.

Immediately after, an unprecedented warning filled the entire screen:

【Warning: You are modifying the heart rate parameters of Pei Yue.exe】

【Detected unauthorized injection of emotional variable】

【Recommend terminating operation, otherwise unknown protocol may be triggered…】

Shen Yan’s pupils trembled violently: “Who allowed you to read this kind of data?! Close background permissions!”

He frantically tapped the virtual keyboard, trying to forcibly restart the protocol, but that warning line remained unmoved, instead flashing brighter and brighter.

Even more bizarrely, the entire cold pond’s dark blue runes suddenly paused for a moment, then transformed into a warm golden color. The water no longer felt piercingly cold, instead emitting a slight warmth, like winter suddenly entering spring.

Pei Yue leaned in his embrace, her cheeks flushed, breathing gradually stabilizing, her lips turning from purple to moist. She opened her eyes, her voice carrying a hint of hoarseness: “The program you wrote… is a bit too sensitive.”

“It’s not the program’s fault.” Shen Yan smiled bitterly, “The execution environment is too dangerous.”

“So you’re now… saving me?” she asked softly.

“What else? Waiting for you to freeze into an ice sculpture for exhibition?” He spoke defiantly, but his hand didn’t loosen, “I’m just running a low-power heat cycle script, incidentally testing the compatibility of the Heaven’s Secret Holder resonance device.”

“Oh.” She responded, actually smiling, “So that pull earlier was part of your program design?”

“Of course!” He spoke confidently, “Modular interactive design, enhancing user experience.”

“Then the user feedback is—” she paused, her fingertip lightly hooking the edge of his palm, “Heartbeat indeed sped up.”

Shen Yan almost compiled the code into a love letter.

“That’s a physiological stress response! An inevitable phenomenon of low-temperature revival!” He stubbornly insisted, “Besides, as a Medical Cultivator, don’t you understand this?”

Pei Yue didn’t refute, just quietly leaned against him, her hair strands brushing his chin, soft and warm beyond words.

“Do you know?” she suddenly spoke, “The Star-Shattering Token should only recognize Medicine Valley bloodline, but it just now… actively responded to you.”

“Maybe I look more like a Heaven’s Secret Holder template?” he chuckled dryly.

“Not appearance.” She shook her head, “Frequency. Your Source Code Spiritual Root, and what mother left… are of the same origin.”

Shen Yan’s heart trembled.

Same origin?

He recalled again that blurred image of the woman with copper coin hair tie. Could it be…

“Don’t think too much now.” Pei Yue seemed to sense his emotional fluctuation, whispering softly, “The program is still running, don’t break the link.”

He nodded, refocusing his mind, calling up the debug panel. Body temperature had stabilized at 36.3 degrees, the cold condition basically suppressed. But the system still hung that embarrassing warning, like an unshakeable popup ad.

“Need to find a way to close this annoying notice.” He muttered, “Could it be that every time saving someone, I’d have to sign a disclaimer first?”

Just as he thought this, a strange movement suddenly occurred deep in the pond’s center.

That Star-Shattering Token imitation actually rotated halfway on its own, talisman patterns reorganizing, revealing a segment of ancient seal script never seen before.

Shen Yan’s pupils contracted sharply: “This code… isn’t preset!”

He quickly screenshot and archived, preparing to reverse analyze later, but just at the moment of capture, the entire jade ornament suddenly scalded hot, Pei Yue groaned softly, her body trembling violently.

“What happened?” Shen Yan immediately tightened his arm.

“Nothing… just a bit…” She didn’t finish her words, suddenly raising her head, looking directly into his eyes, “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Children’s rhyme.”

Shen Yan froze.

Immediately, a very faint melody truly drifted into his ears, seeming to come from underground, yet also directly sounding in his mind—

“One, two, three, four, five, go up the mountain to hunt tigers…”

Every hair on his body stood on end.

This was no ordinary song!

It was the command key for Ye Shi’er to initiate the highest level of permission!

“Damn it!” He abruptly tightened his embrace around Pei Yue. “This place has been tampered with—the entire cold pond might be a living formation!”

His fingertips flew, attempting to sever the program connection, but the System showed no response.

【Protocol locked… Unable to interrupt】

【External signal intervention… Source unknown】

“Don’t force a disconnection.” Pei Yue suddenly spoke, her voice calm. “If you disconnect now, I’ll immediately revert to a frozen state.”

“What then? Wait to be offered as a sacrifice?”

“Then… let it continue running.” She leaned against his shoulder, her tone actually carrying a hint of amusement. “Since you’re my constant-temperature server now, you might as well hold on a little longer.”

Shen Yan glared. “You’re in the mood for jokes at a time like this?”

“Because I believe in you.” She said softly. “You’ll write code that won’t crash.”

These words struck him like a heavy hammer, making his heart feel heavy.

He fell silent for a moment, then suddenly grinned. “Alright, then I’ll write you a version that never goes down.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, channeling all his Mental Power into his Consciousness Sea to recompile the protocol.

“Create new subroutine: Guardian Mode.”

“Trigger Conditions: Abnormal vital signs in Pei Yue.”

“Execution Priority: Highest.”

“Automatic repair mechanism: Enabled.”

“Designation: Exclusive Patch—Pei Yue·Never Offline.”

The moment the Code was set, the System Interface trembled slightly. That line of embarrassing Warning quietly vanished, replaced by a scrolling Log:

【New protocol deployed successfully】

【Bound Device: Pei Yue】

【Connection status: Stable】

【Emotional Variable… Recorded】

Shen Yan didn’t understand the last line.

But he had no time to delve deeper.

Because the woman in his arms suddenly raised her hand, her fingertip gently brushing the corner of his mouth—where a small crack had unknowingly appeared, a bead of blood slowly seeping out.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

“Minor injury.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t affect performance.”

Pei Yue didn’t speak, only gently rested her forehead against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

A warm current circulated between them, Code and Bloodline intertwining like a silent Contract.

In the distance, the Runes at the heart of the pond slowly quieted, as if nothing had ever happened.

Only Shen Yan knew that some things had quietly changed.

For instance, his palm still rested against her chest.

For instance, the rhythm of her breathing was now synchronized with the beat of his Code.

For instance, that line, “You’ll write code that won’t crash”—he actually wanted to make it come true.

(End of Chapter)