Transforming into a stunningly beautiful fox spirit, leaving a scar on the heart of a prodigy.

The rain started to fall.

At first, a few scattered cool breezes struck the broad leaves of the sycamore tree, making a crisp, pattering sound.

Before long, the rain intensified, forming a gray curtain of water that completely covered the mountain valley deep in Luofengpo.

The huge canopy of the sycamore tree forms a natural umbrella.

The beads converge along the veins of the leaves and cascade down the edge of the tree canopy, forming a crystal-clear beaded curtain that isolates the small area beneath the tree from the wind and rain outside.

Gu Xiang loosened his grip.

The person in his arms was a little cold, and the thin red clothes clung to their body, making them look somewhat desolate. He took off his robe and draped it over Su Qing.

Su Qing did not dodge.

She pulled her robe, still warm from his body, closer, and a faint scent of ink and agarwood lingered around her nose. It was Gu Xiang's scent, a comforting aroma.

"I'm hungry." Su Qing raised her head, her fox-like eyes slightly narrowed, and uttered the two words with a matter-of-fact air.

Gu Xiang was stunned for a moment.

Having just experienced both great sorrow and joy, with the tear stains on her eyes still wet, the first thing this person said was that they were hungry.

"Okay," Gu Xiang replied, his voice still a little hoarse.

He raised his sleeve, wiped his face haphazardly, and turned to look at the group of bandits huddled in the bushes not far away, trembling with fear.

The bald-headed gang leader was leading his men to peek around.

When they saw the menacing figure looking over, the group of people were so frightened that they fell to their knees with a thud, banging their heads into the mud and water, not daring to breathe.

"Pot." Gu Xiang said succinctly.

The bald man didn't hear him clearly and cautiously raised his head: "Huh?"

"A pot, firewood, and..." Gu Xiang paused, his gaze falling on Su Qing's bare feet, his brows furrowing, "Go catch two pheasants, the fat ones."

The bald man understood this time. They were telling him to start cooking.

A group of robbers who usually kill and rob are now working harder than the waiters in the restaurant.

Some people carried the pots, some gathered firewood, and some braved the rain to venture into the woods to catch pheasants.

Before long, a bonfire rose in the open space in front of the sycamore tree.

Gu Xiang rolled up his sleeves.

Those hands, which usually hold a vermilion brush and deliberate on matters of state, are now grasping a freshly slaughtered and plucked pheasant. Their movements are somewhat clumsy, yet they reveal a serious earnestness.

He pulled a dagger from his pocket; it was a magical weapon for self-defense, capable of cutting through iron like mud, but now it was being used to slice ginger and scallions.

Su Qing sat on the tree root, looking at him through that invisible barrier, her chin resting on her hand.

The flickering firelight illuminated Gu Xiang's face. He was focused, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he were handling not a chicken, but a memorial concerning the fate of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

"Lord Gu," Su Qing called out to him.

Gu Xiang's hand trembled, and he almost cut his finger. He looked up, his eyes filled with panic: "What's wrong?"

"Too much salt," Su Qing said, pointing to the pot.

Gu Xiang looked down and realized that his hand had slipped, and he had spilled the entire spoonful of salt inside.

He was somewhat embarrassed. He wanted to scoop out the salt, but then felt it was inappropriate, so he had no choice but to bite the bullet and add water.

"It's okay, just drink more water," Gu Xiang said in a muffled voice.

Su Qing chuckled.

That smile stirred Gu Xiang's heart. Looking at that bright face in the firelight, his heart beat much more steadily.

very nice.

She's still here, she still smiles, and she still complains about how bad his cooking is.

The soup bubbled and steamed, its aroma filling the rainy night. Gu Xiang ladled out a bowl and carefully carried it to the screen.

That barrier could stop Su Qing, but it couldn't stop inanimate objects. Gu Xiang's hand passed through the barrier, handing the steaming chicken soup to Su Qing.

"It's hot," Gu Xiang instructed.

Su Qing took the bowl, blew on the oil, and took a sip.

It's too salty.

It was not only salty, but also a bit fishy. The ginger slices were cut too thick, so the fishy smell wasn't masked.

This skill hasn't improved at all compared to three years ago.

"It tastes awful." Su Qing frowned, complaining, but her hands didn't stop, and she kept drinking it.

Gu Xiang sat outside the screen, watching her drink the soup. Rain had soaked his undergarment, and his hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, making him look somewhat disheveled.

But he didn't care.

"I'll learn later," Gu Xiang said. "There's a royal chef in Shendu who's an expert in Huaiyang cuisine. I'll have him teach me when I get back."

"Lord Gu is so busy with state affairs, how could he have time to learn these things?" Su Qing handed the empty bowl back, "I want another one."

Gu Xiang took the bowl, filled it with water, and gave her both chicken legs.

"I'm free." Gu Xiang watched her munching on a chicken leg, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'm free anytime you want to eat it."

The bald gang leader and his men huddled under a tree some distance away to take shelter from the rain. Their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as they watched this scene.

That ruthless man who kills without blinking an eye and crushes a ghost-head knife with one finger is actually henpecked?

The red-clad female demon who struck fear into the hearts of their gang of bandits could actually be eating a chicken leg like a timid wife.

I don't understand this world anymore.

Having eaten and drunk her fill, Su Qing leaned against the tree trunk, feeling lazy and unwilling to move.

Gu Xiang cleaned up the pots and pans and added a few more pieces of thick firewood to the fire. The fire burned even brighter, dispelling the chill of the rainy night.

He didn't go inside the barrier. The space inside was too small, and he was afraid of crowding Su Qing. So he just sat there with his back against the barrier on the damp mud, back to back with Su Qing.

Although there was an invisible wall between them, they could feel each other's body temperature.

"This tree..." Gu Xiang began, his voice low and somber, "What happened to it?"

He had just tried it. The barrier was exceptionally strong; even his righteous aura couldn't break through it. Moreover, the sycamore tree gave him a strange feeling, both intimate and majestic.

"It's protecting its cub," Su Qing yawned. "It's treating me like a phoenix cub, afraid I'll get snatched away by wolves if I go out."

Gu Xiang remained silent for a moment.

"Phoenix essence blood..." he murmured to himself, his hand unconsciously pressing against his chest, "Is it because of this heart?"

Su Qing didn't say anything.

That was a taboo between them.

Years ago, on that bloody night, she ripped out his heart and filled it with her own. Now, though they've met again, the scar remains.

"Does it hurt?" Gu Xiang suddenly asked.

Su Qing was taken aback for a moment, then realized what he was asking.

"It hurt," Su Qing said casually. "It hurt so much I wanted to curse. I thought to myself, when I come back to life, I'm going to catch that heartless man, hang him from a tree, and beat him up."

Gu Xiang didn't laugh.

He turned around and looked at Su Qing's back through the barrier.

"Go ahead and hit me," Gu Xiang said. "Hit me now. Hit me however you want, as long as it makes you feel better."

Su Qing turned her head and met those deep eyes.

There were no jokes in it, only deep guilt and heartache.

"Idiot," Su Qing cursed, her eyes reddening. "If you break something, who's going to cook for me? Who's going to buy me roast chicken?"

Gu Xiang reached out and, through the barrier, gently touched her cheek with his fingertips.

"I'll give it," Gu Xiang said. "This life, the next life, and the life after that, I'll give it all."

It's still raining.

The leaves of the paulownia tree rustled in the wind and rain. The firelight illuminated their faces, casting long shadows that intertwined and became inseparable.

The night at Luofengpo was bitterly cold.

But under these sycamore trees, the warmth was so intense it brought tears to my eyes.

Linjiangxian - Night Rain

I do not complain about the night rain and the tinkling bells; the leaves of the paulownia tree rustle softly.

A small fire on red clay reflects the cold night.

Though the soup is bland, the sentiment it evokes surpasses even the finest jade.

Do not say that there is nowhere to send my longing; I am already in the woods.

He relinquished his official hat and returned to a life of carefree wandering.

So many things in my life, all poured out into this one gourd.