After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

When Xiao Jingyuan came out of Tingxuexuan, his steps were extremely unsteady.

The night breeze carried the fragrance of crabapple blossoms, but he felt it couldn't extinguish the burning heat in his chest.

The sensation from her fingertips still lingered in my palm—the warmth of her body, her taut waistline, and…

Xiao Jingyuan raised his hand to cover half of his face, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

It’s over.

His mind was now filled with the image of Xie Qinglan biting her lip and turning her head away, her reddened neck, her collarbone faintly visible under her bathrobe, and the spot he had touched—there was clearly a reaction there.

This realization set off a fire in his veins that burned all the way from his chest to his lower abdomen, keeping him awake all night.

He tossed and turned on the dragon bed, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Xie Qinglan's face, which had lost its coldness due to the steam. The hoarse "lecher" echoed repeatedly in his ears—it was clearly an insult, but when it came out of his mouth, it was like a hook, pulling at the softest part of his heart.

I finally drifted off to sleep in the middle of the night, but the fire in my head hadn't died down. As it burned, it burned into a dream.

The dream began with a vermilion palace wall.

Xiao Jingyuan stood outside the Lan Yue Pavilion. The midday sun cast a blinding white light on the glazed tiles, making him squint slightly. He heard his own voice, deep and cold, carrying the unquestionable authority typical of an emperor: "No."

Pei Yuning stood before him, dressed in a lotus-colored palace gown, with a bright red flower adorning her temple, making her more beautiful than the flowers themselves. Her fingers twisted a handkerchief, her knuckles turning slightly white, yet she maintained that gentle and dignified smile on her face.

"Your Majesty, I only wish to see Brother Qinglan." Her voice was so soft it seemed to melt. "He has been living alone in Lanyue Pavilion for more than half a year, without anyone to talk to. I am the younger sister he has watched grow up since childhood. If I go to see him and talk to him, he will feel better."

Xiao Jingyuan stood with his hands behind his back, not even lifting his eyelids. Of course he knew Xie Qinglan had no one to talk to—that person wouldn't even say a few words to him, so why would he be in a better mood with Pei Yuning? Why should he?

"I said, no."

Pei Yuning's nails dug into her palms. She was silent for a moment, as if considering her words, then gritted her teeth, as if she had made up her mind, and raised her head.

"Your Majesty, I am not being unreasonable." Her voice softened further, carrying just the right amount of earnestness. "Tomorrow is Qinglan's birthday. I simply wish to send him a bowl of longevity noodles."

Xiao Jingyuan's fingers, which were tucked behind his back, curled slightly.

birthday.

Tomorrow is Xie Qinglan's birthday.

His face still wore that cold and indifferent expression, but something suddenly lit up in his eyes.

He coughed, suppressing his barely concealed excitement, his tone remaining indifferent and authoritative: "You are not allowed to enter Lan Yue Pavilion. Hand the items over to Ye Qi; after verification, if there are no problems, they will be handed over."

Pei Yuning's lips twitched slightly, then she lowered her head, hiding the fleeting resentment in her submissive posture: "Your Majesty, I obey your command."

Xiao Jingyuan didn't look at her again. He turned and strode away, his black dragon robe billowing in the wind on the palace path, his steps as fast as if he were rushing to some urgent military matter. He didn't return to the imperial study, but went straight to the imperial kitchen.

When the head chef of the imperial kitchen saw His Majesty arrive in person, he was so frightened that he dropped the spoon in his hand and knelt down with a thud. Before he could even pay his respects, Xiao Jingyuan grabbed him and lifted him up.

"Teach me how to make noodles."

The head eunuch thought he had misheard: "...Your Majesty?"

"Longevity noodles." Xiao Jingyuan had already started rolling up his sleeves, impatiently rolling the cuffs of his dragon robe up to his elbows, revealing a section of his muscular forearm. "Teach me from the beginning. Kneading the dough, rolling the dough, pulling the noodles—teach me everything."

That night, the lights in the imperial kitchen stayed on until the fourth watch of the night.

Xiao Jingyuan has held a knife, carried a gun, and drawn a bow in his life, but he has never held a rolling pin.

The way he kneaded the dough looked like he was practicing some kind of external martial arts. With each slap, flour flew everywhere, leaving a layer of frost on the cutting board next to him, and even the head eunuch's hat was covered in flour dust.

The first lump of dough was too stiff to roll out; the second lump of dough was too soft and stuck to the work surface; the third lump of dough was finally kneaded to a decent shape, but the noodles that came out were of varying thicknesses, one was broken in the middle, and another was thicker than a chopstick.

Xiao Jingyuan stared at the pile of disastrous noodles, remained silent for a moment, and then said expressionlessly, "Start over."

The head eunuch, who had been standing by the emperor's side all night, was now numb with fatigue. Seeing the pile of discarded dough on the emperor's desk, he couldn't help but whisper, "Your Majesty, why don't I have the imperial chefs prepare some for you to take over?"

"No." Xiao Jingyuan didn't even look up, his hands continuing their work. "I'll do it myself."

As dawn approached, Xiao Jingyuan finally brought out a bowl of longevity noodles that was barely presentable.

Although the noodles were uneven in thickness, at least none of them were broken; the noodle soup was made with chicken broth prepared by the imperial chef, and the oil was skimmed off three times before it was barely clear; he also placed two green vegetables on the side of the bowl and poached an egg.

The fried egg was a little burnt, with an unappealing brown tinge around the edges. He poked at it with his chopsticks, trying to hide it under the noodles, but after a couple of tries, he pulled it back—why hide it? That's just how he makes noodles, ugly is ugly.

He carried the bowl of noodles and, before dawn, personally delivered it to Lan Yue Pavilion.

When the door was pushed open, the hall was quiet. Xie Qinglan was still asleep; the gauze curtains were drawn low, and the silhouette of a person lying on the bed could be vaguely seen.

Xiao Jingyuan tiptoed in, intending to leave the noodles on the table and then go—but then he saw the white porcelain bowl on the table.

It is also a bowl of longevity noodles.

The noodles were stretched thin and even, each strand distinct, coiling neatly in the clear broth. A few goji berries and red dates floated on top, complemented by bright green scallions, emitting a delicate and mellow aroma. Beside them lay a note, written in Pei Yuning's elegant and neat handwriting—"Brother Qinglan, may your birthday be peaceful and healthy."

One bowl is exquisite, the other is coarse.

The two bowls of noodles were placed side by side, creating a rather stark contrast.

His hand unconsciously reached for Pei Yuning's bowl, wanting to take it away and leave only his own bowl.

Reaching the door, he gritted his teeth, went back, and put Pei Yuning's bowl of noodles back in its original place, placing it next to his own coarse bowl of noodles.

He'd probably be happier if someone else celebrated his birthday with him. Besides, that person was Pei Yuning, his only old friend in this cage.

After thinking for a moment, he moved his bowl to a more forward position and glanced at the direction of the bed—Xie Qinglan was still asleep, her breathing steady and long.

The gauze curtains swayed slightly in the morning breeze, revealing glimpses of his dark hair scattered on the pillow and a small section of his wrist peeking out from under the brocade quilt. Xiao Jingyuan forced himself to look away, turned and walked out, gently closing the door behind him.

When he attended the morning court session, he sat on the dragon throne, listening to the ministers present their reports, but his mind wandered off somewhere else entirely.

Although his bowl of noodles didn't look very appealing, Xie Qinglan would probably take a bite out of consideration for his good intentions, even if it was just one bite.

After the court session ended, he did not go to the Imperial Study, but went straight to the Lanyue Pavilion. His heart was pounding when he pushed open the door.

Xie Qinglan was sitting by the window reading a book. The morning light shone through the window and fell on his moon-white brocade robe, making half of his profile almost transparent.

Then he saw the table.

Both bowls of noodles are still there.

The bowl he made sat to one side; the noodles had clumped together, a pale, mushy mess. The fried egg lay forlornly on top, its burnt edges softened and looked even more wretched. All his efforts throughout the night had been wasted. He hadn't touched it.

Pei Yuning had eaten more than half of her noodles, and the soup was almost gone. A pair of green bamboo chopsticks rested on the rim of the bowl, with a little soup still clinging to the tips. The noodle soup had cooled down, and oil clung to the rim of the bowl, but the delicate aroma had not yet dissipated, lingering faintly in the air.

He felt as if something was being gripped tightly in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

He had fried that egg six times before it was done; although it was a little burnt, the yolk in the middle was still runny. He had never put so much effort into anyone in his life. But Xie Qinglan wouldn't even take a bite.

Hearing footsteps, Xie Qinglan looked up and met his eyes, which were brimming with anger and grievance. She frowned almost imperceptibly, then continued to lower her head and turn the pages of her book.

"You're so biased towards her?" Xiao Jingyuan heard his own voice, which was both sour and bitter, as if he had been pulled out of a vat of vinegar.

Xie Qinglan paused in her book-turning, looked up at him, and asked, puzzled, "What did you say?"

"Haven't I treated you well enough these past few days?" Xiao Jingyuan took a step forward, his black dragon robe sweeping across the threshold, stirring up a gust of oppressive wind. "You dislike me that much?"

Xie Qinglan frowned slightly, looking at Xiao Jingyuan's ashen face. She then followed his gaze to the two bowls on the table and vaguely guessed what was going on, but she couldn't understand why Xiao Jingyuan dared to speak to her like that.

His tone remained indifferent and unhurried: "Xiao Jingyuan, what's wrong with you?"

Xiao Jingyuan stared at him, his chest heaving violently, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down several times, as if he had something to say but swallowed it back down.

His eyes reddened, his lips moved slightly, but he said nothing in the end. He turned around, flung open the door, and strode out. The palace door slammed shut behind him with a bang, making the windowpanes vibrate.

Xie Qinglan stared at the slammed door, then at the bowl of noodles clumped together on the table, and remained silent for a long time.

He picked up his chopsticks, reached for the bowl of noodles that had gone cold and looked terrible, and scooped up a clump of noodles to put in his mouth. The noodles were clumped together, cold and hard, salty and bitter, and the scallions were cut into overly large pieces, giving them a raw, spicy taste. He chewed a few times, swallowed, then put down his chopsticks and sighed softly.