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

A wave of heat hit us.

Chen Xuan pressed his palm against the scorching bronze door panel, his ten fingers gripping the edge of the panel tightly, the veins on his arms bulging out one by one.

The deformed bronze door was forcibly torn open.

The scene inside the door came into view.

The alchemy furnace in the alchemy room was not lit. The spirit fire array was dim, and most of the fluorite lamps on the walls were extinguished. The entire room was enveloped in two kinds of light—a red one and a white one, intertwined, rising from a black iron pot in the center of the room.

Su Chang'an squatted in front of the iron pot.

She reached for the salt shaker, her fingertips slipping through the glass—she missed. She frowned, focused, and then, with a firm grip, pinched some salt and sprinkled it into the pot.

Her long, silver hair hung down, the ends almost poking into the pot. She freed one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, then bent down to stir it.

The iron pot was bubbling away.

White rice grains tumbled in the broth, mixed with a few crookedly cut pieces of medicinal herbs, their colors varying from dark to light. The Phoenix True Fire, compressed into a clump the size of a little finger, nestled at the bottom of the pot, serving as a kindling fire.

The white light emanating from the Celestial Fox's origin was coming from those few spiritual herbs—she was using her primordial power to detoxify the herbs.

Chen Xuan stood at the door, his palm still pressed against the door panel.

His breathing went from rapid to paused, then from paused to a long exhale. It was as if a stone had been pressing on his chest and had just been removed.

Su Chang'an heard the noise and turned around.

She saw Chen Xuan standing at the door, his palms charred black, his face ashen, and his imposing aura of a Great Saint Realm expert still emanating from him, causing the bottles and jars in the alchemy room to rattle loudly.

"...What are you doing?" Su Chang'an stopped eating.

Chen Xuan remained silent.

His gaze moved from Su Chang'an's face to the iron pot, and then back to her face.

His lips moved.

"You're cooking porridge."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. The voice was flat, but the ending note was lowered slightly.

Su Chang'an frowned. She looked down at her own posture as she squatted in front of the pot, then at Chen Xuan's tense expression, and roughly understood what was going on.

"Otherwise what?" Su Chang'an tapped the edge of the pot with a spoon. "What do you think I'm doing here? Making poison to harm you?"

Chen Xuan's Adam's apple bobbed.

He loosened the door panel and put his hands behind his back.

"You didn't say that when you left," Chen Xuan said.

Su Chang'an blinked.

"Do I need to report to you just for cooking porridge?"

"want."

The word was spoken quickly, without hesitation.

Su Chang'an stared at him for a couple of moments. She didn't reply, turning back to continue stirring the porridge. After swirling the spoon in the pot a couple of times, she spoke, her voice a little softer than before.

"The medicinal herbs from the palace are of too high grade; using them directly in medicine would burn your meridians. I've ground down their potent properties using my own essence and mixed them into the rice porridge so it won't burn your mouth."

She spoke casually, as if she were just saying the weather was nice today.

"Your bones have just been set, and too much medicine will cause them to crack. Warm porridge will nourish you and slowly seep in; it's more effective than forcing yourself to swallow medicine."

Chen Xuan stood still.

He watched as Su Chang'an squatted in front of the black iron pot, using the mighty Phoenix True Fire to heat the stove and the Quasi-Emperor-level Heavenly Fox Essence to detoxify the medicinal herbs, all to cook a bowl of porridge.

"Your hand." Su Chang'an didn't even turn his head. "Extend it."

Chen Xuan did not move.

"Chen Xuan".

He pulled his hand out from behind his back. His ten fingers were a bloody mess, already beginning to scab over. The physical body of a Great Sage Realm cultivator heals quickly, but the scars hadn't faded yet.

Su Chang'an put down her spoon and stood up. She walked up to Chen Xuan and glanced down at his hand.

She didn't say "Are you stupid?" or "The door is made of iron, why are you pushing it with your hands?"

She reached out, grasped Chen Xuan's wrist, and turned his palm over. She gently pressed her fingertips against his palm, and a trace of the Heavenly Fox's essence seeped in through the contact surface, cool and soothing the burned nerve endings.

"Does it hurt?" Su Chang'an asked.

"It doesn't hurt."

Su Chang'an raised her head and looked at his face.

Chen Xuan's expression was calm, but his ears were red.

"Stubborn." Su Chang'an released his wrist, turned around and walked back to the pot. "Sit over there and wait. Don't touch the pot, you can't handle the fire."

Chen Xuan found a wooden stool in the corner of the alchemy room and sat down.

The alchemy room wasn't large; he sat there, his knees almost touching Su Chang'an's back. The porridge in the iron pot bubbled and steamed, enveloping Su Chang'an's profile in a layer of white mist.

Chen Xuan looked at the white mist.

He suddenly remembered a long time ago, in that dark cave, Su Chang'an had also squatted on the ground like this, roasting meat for him with demonic fire. At that time, she was still a white fox, with nine tails spread all over the ground. He huddled in the tails, smelling the aroma of meat, and felt that the cave was the best place in the whole world.

"Stop looking." Su Chang'an didn't turn around. "Look at the pot."

"I'm looking at the pot."

"You're looking at me."

Chen Xuan did not deny it.

The porridge had been simmering for about half an incense stick's time. Su Chang'an extinguished the Phoenix True Fire and stirred the pot with a spoon. The porridge was thick, the rice grains had split open, and the medicinal herbs had turned into a pale blue liquid, dissolving in the rice water.

She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and presented it to Chen Xuan.

Open your mouth.

Chen Xuan looked at the spoonful of porridge.

"I can eat it myself."

Your hands are covered in wounds. Open your mouth.

Chen Xuan opened his mouth.

The porridge was warm, not hot.

The rice grains were soft and mushy, carrying a faint medicinal taste as they slid down my throat. Spiritual energy spread from my stomach, flowing along my meridians to my limbs and bones, like a gentle stream, slowly filling in the tiny cracks that hadn't yet been repaired.

Su Chang'an scooped up another spoonful.

"How does it taste?"

"It's too salty."

Su Chang'an paused for a moment.

"...What did you say?"

"Too much salt," Chen Xuan said.

Su Chang'an looked at him. The two stared at each other for three breaths.

"Eat it or not, it's up to you." Su Chang'an shoved the spoon into the bowl.

Chen Xuan reached out and took the bowl, then lowered his head and drank it sip by sip.

The porridge was indeed too salty. It was also a bit burnt at the bottom. The bitterness of the medicinal herb hadn't been completely removed, and mixed with the rice water, it wasn't exactly delicious.

He drank very quickly, finishing the bowl in one go.

"Another bowl, please." Chen Xuan handed over the empty bowl.

Su Chang'an took the bowl without looking at his face. She turned around to scoop the porridge, her lips twitching slightly before she quickly suppressed it.

When the second bowl of porridge was finished, the flying boat shuddered.

It wasn't bumping. It was slowing down.

Chen Xuan put down the bowl and walked to the porthole.

The clouds outside the window thinned. Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps, illuminating a vast expanse of land. In the distance, mountains stretched endlessly, their ridges covered in snow, below which lay vast black pine forests.

At the end of the pine forest stands a city.

The city wall was built of dark blue-black boulders and was over a hundred feet high.

There is a character engraved above the city wall.

The brushstrokes are sharp and powerful, carrying an imposing aura.

Chen. On the crossbeam, there is another line of old characters, mostly eroded by wind and snow, as if left by some unknown person many years ago.

Chen Xuan did not read the line of text.

Su Chang'an glanced at it.

The handwriting was blurry, but she recognized the last two sentences—

The city walls stand majestically, bearing the imperial surname; the windows are closed, and the snow-white hair remains silent.

Su Chang'an walked behind Chen Xuan. She glanced out the window over his shoulder, her gaze lingering on those two words for a moment.

The speed of the airship was decreasing. The array patterns beneath the bronze hull changed color, from blue light indicating movement to red light indicating docking.

"Have we arrived?" Su Chang'an asked.

"We've arrived," Chen Xuan said.

His voice was flat.

Su Chang'an looked at his profile. There was no tension, no hatred, and no fierce grit on his face.

He just stood there, looking out the window at the city.

It's like someone who has traveled far away returning to a place they never wanted to go back to.

Su Chang'an reached out and patted him on the back of the head. The force was light, with a bit of momentum.

When Su Chang'an was halfway through his second bowl of porridge, he paused for a moment.

It wasn't a burn.

It was her divine sense that detected something.

On the second floor of the flying boat, two auras overlapped. One belonged to Chen Daolin, as steady as a mountain. The other—her brow twitched.

That aura felt very familiar. So familiar that it made the hairs on the back of her head stand on end.

But only for a moment. The aura seemed to sense something and withdrew on its own.

It was so fast it was as if it had never happened.

"What's wrong?" Chen Xuan put down his bowl.

Su Chang'an lowered his head and continued stirring the porridge. The spoon swirled twice in the pot.

"Nothing. The salt shaker is empty."

Su Chang'an leaned against the frame of the porthole.

The light from the window shone on her silver hair, so bright it was almost blinding.

She didn't say anything more.

The airship descended slowly. The dark blue city walls grew closer and larger, eventually filling the entire porthole.

Chen Xuan reached out and closed the window.

The poem says—

A bronze boat breaks through the fog and descends to the Central Plains, where phoenix fire simmers the medicinal soup, its aroma thick and rich.

The door is so hot that the person pushes it open without complaining, but the taste of salt makes the customer worry first.

A bowl of porridge and a meal convey deep affection, while half the house is rife with conspiracies and scheming.

The city walls stand majestically beside the imperial residence, while the white-haired man remains silent behind closed windows.