Chapter 43 Tang Hui Accidentally Holds an Official Pavilion Meeting

Tang Hui did not expect her life to deteriorate into administrative discussions.

Yet somehow, less than a week after the pavilion received preliminary recognition, she found herself sitting at the central consultation table while disciples argued passionately about furniture arrangements.

“This side should become a waiting area.”

“No, consultation privacy matters more.”

“We need more lantern hooks first.”

“The tea storage is insufficient.”

Tang Hui stared blankly at the increasingly heated discussion around her.

“…Why are all of you emotionally invested in architecture suddenly?”

No one answered.

Because everyone was still arguing.

The pavilion itself buzzed with unusual energy today. Scroll drafts, measurement sketches, and renovation proposals covered nearly every table while disciples wandered through the building debating improvements with alarming seriousness.

Tang Hui felt like she accidentally founded a tiny sect branch.

Deeply concerning development.

Old Chen leaned comfortably against the doorway eating roasted chestnuts while enjoying the chaos.

“You should’ve seen this coming,” he said smugly.

“I absolutely should not have.”

“You created a place people care about.”

“That still sounds fake when you say it.”

Unfortunately, it no longer felt fake.

That was the dangerous part.

Outside the pavilion, afternoon sunlight spilled warmly across the outer market while disciples passed by carrying supplies and festival decorations leftover from Moonheart Peak.

Inside, however, the atmosphere resembled organized emotional disaster.

At some point during the morning, Luo Ming casually suggested gathering opinions before renovations officially began.

This evolved into:

* structural proposals,
* consultation expansion plans,
* tea service discussions,
* and one deeply unnecessary debate regarding decorative plants.

Tang Hui regretted allowing any of this immediately.

Lin Qingyue sat near the records shelf carefully organizing suggestion slips while trying not to laugh openly at the situation.

Qin Yue reviewed formation layouts nearby with calm efficiency, occasionally correcting structural notes when disciples became too ambitious.

Meanwhile Gu Beichen—

naturally—

had already started examining support beams again.

Tang Hui watched him suspiciously from across the room.

“You look far too comfortable during construction planning.”

Gu Beichen glanced toward her calmly.

“The current structure remains unstable.”

“You sound emotionally attached to the building.”

“It shelters you from rain.”

Dead silence.

Every disciple nearby immediately stopped talking.

Tang Hui physically covered her face.

Because honestly—

this man truly learned sincerity and immediately weaponized it accidentally.

Luo Ming leaned back against the window rail looking delighted by the unfolding emotional catastrophe.

“You’re becoming smoother lately,” he remarked.

Gu Beichen frowned slightly.

“…Smoother?”

“Yes. It’s alarming.”

“I’m speaking normally.”

“That’s exactly the issue.”

Several disciples collapsed laughing.

Tang Hui pointed toward the room sternly.

“No one encourages him.”

Far too late for that.

One of the younger disciples suddenly raised a hand enthusiastically.

“Senior Sister Tang, if the pavilion expands officially, should we add private consultation gardens?”

Tang Hui blinked once.

“…Private gardens?”

“For emotional conversations,” the disciple explained earnestly. “Some people panic easily during confessions.”

Actually reasonable.

Disturbingly reasonable.

Tang Hui leaned back thoughtfully despite herself.

The current pavilion truly struggled with privacy sometimes. Half the sect accidentally overheard consultations daily because the walls remained thin and disciples possessed zero boundaries.

A separate garden area could help.

Ah.

No.

Tang Hui caught herself immediately.

She was participating now.

The administration corrupted her spiritually.

Before the discussion could continue further, another familiar disciple hurried through the entrance carrying fresh gossip energy.

Dangerous already.

“Senior Sister Tang!”

Tang Hui sighed internally.

“What happened?”

“The sword hall disciples are fighting again.”

Several pavilion disciples groaned knowingly.

Tang Hui closed her eyes briefly.

“Over what this time?”

The messenger hesitated.

“…Flower arrangements.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Tang Hui reopened her eyes slowly.

“I’m sorry?”

“They both wanted to send congratulatory flowers for the pavilion recognition,” the disciple explained weakly. “Then argued over which arrangement looked more refined.”

Old Chen started choking violently on chestnuts.

Luo Ming outright laughed.

Even Qin Yue looked briefly speechless.

Tang Hui sat motionless behind the consultation desk processing this information.

Months ago these people solved disagreements through duels.

Now they fought over flower aesthetics.

The pavilion truly altered sect culture irreversibly.

Deeply horrifying accomplishment.

“Tell them,” Tang Hui said calmly, “that if they damage each other over decorative plants, I’ll ban both from the pavilion permanently.”

The disciple fled immediately with visible fear.

Reasonable response.

As the room settled again, Tang Hui noticed something unexpected.

Everyone here looked comfortable.

Not performing.
Not competing.
Not carefully maintaining sect status.

Just… existing together naturally.

Lin Qingyue quietly organizing records beside Qin Yue.

Luo Ming teasing nearby disciples casually while pretending not to monitor Qin Yue’s reactions constantly.

Gu Beichen repairing lantern brackets while listening silently to every conversation anyway.

And disciples drifting through the pavilion without hesitation now, treating the space like somewhere safe.

Tang Hui’s chest tightened unexpectedly.

Because somewhere along the way—

this stopped being only her business.

It became everyone’s place.

The realization felt strangely emotional.

Dangerous.

Tang Hui immediately distracted herself by reviewing renovation documents aggressively.

Unfortunately, this failed when Qin Yue approached her table moments later holding revised formation sketches.

“The western wall expansion works,” Qin Yue said calmly. “But the rear courtyard should remain open.”

Tang Hui glanced down at the diagrams.

“…For what purpose?”

“Natural gathering flow.”

Tang Hui stared at her.

“You analyzed emotional traffic patterns.”

Qin Yue paused slightly.

“…Perhaps.”

Luo Ming overheard instantly from across the room.

“You’ve changed.”

Qin Yue looked completely unbothered.

“You’re noisy.”

“Not a denial.”

Tang Hui watched the exchange carefully.

Again—
that ease between them.

No tension anymore.

No guarded distance.

Just familiarity growing naturally through repeated presence.

Like water slowly reshaping stone.

Professional instincts practically screamed now.

Still neither of them fully realized yet.

Amazing.

Truly amazing.

Tang Hui almost wanted to shake them both professionally.

Before she could continue observing suspiciously, Lin Qingyue suddenly approached carrying several folded papers.

“There’s another issue,” she said gently.

Tang Hui immediately distrusted those words.

“What now?”

Lin Qingyue hesitated slightly before handing over the papers.

“…Marriage requests.”

The room quieted again.

Tang Hui blinked.

“…Excuse me?”

“Not for consultations,” Lin Qingyue clarified carefully. “For you.”

Dead silence.

Absolute devastating silence.

Tang Hui slowly unfolded the papers.

Several formal letters stared back at her.

Cultivation family introductions.
Sect disciple invitations.
One aggressively poetic confession involving moonlight and fate.

Tang Hui looked horrified.

“No.”

Luo Ming nearly collapsed laughing again.

Old Chen outright abandoned his stall to witness this properly.

Lin Qingyue looked apologetic but deeply entertained internally.

Meanwhile—

Gu Beichen had gone very still.

Ah.

Dangerous atmosphere shift.

Tang Hui noticed immediately.

The room itself seemed quieter suddenly.

More focused.

Gu Beichen’s gaze lowered briefly toward the letters in her hands before returning to her face.

No obvious expression changed.

But something about the air around him sharpened subtly.

Tang Hui recognized the feeling instantly.

Because she spent months helping cultivators navigate emotions.

And right now—

Gu Beichen looked displeased.

Interesting.

No.

Not that word.

Possessive.

Ah.

Terrible.

Absolutely terrible.

Tang Hui immediately folded the letters shut again.

“These are being rejected.”

One disciple nearby asked cautiously:

“Without reading them?”

“Yes.”

“Very decisive.”

“I support emotional efficiency.”

Tang Hui shoved the letters directly beneath unrelated paperwork before anyone could examine them further.

Then she made the catastrophic mistake of glancing toward Gu Beichen again.

Because unfortunately—

the faint tension around him eased slightly afterward.

And somehow—

that tiny reaction affected her far more than it should have.