The Nightmare Experience of a Useless Person

Drip, drip, drip, until consciousness returned, all that remained in my ears was the sparse sound of rain and an unfamiliar breath.

It was Jiang Zhiyang. His eyes were closed, his lips were slightly parted, and his dry lips and teeth occasionally revealed rapid and rough breathing. His condition was obviously not right.

"Zhiyang, Zhiyang, what's wrong with you?" Qingjun asked in a low voice. The moment she got close to him, she realized that the light scent of soap had been covered by an unusual heat. He had a fever.

"He probably caught a chill last night. It's nothing. Could you help me decoct the medicine on the top shelf of the small cabinet?" His voice was low and hoarse, and his eyes were dim, like a flickering candle about to go out.

"Okay, wait for me." Qingjun replied simply, only to realize later that he didn't know how to cook firewood at all.

Can I use spiritual power? Let's try the fire starter first. The dry pine branches were easily ignited, but in an instant, they turned into tiny specks in the darkness. The firewood was never actually lit! The second time, the third time, and once more, each time it was in vain.

Let's use spiritual power. It's just lighting a fire, it shouldn't be a problem. But no matter how Qingjun uses the spiritual power in his body, he only feels a void. What's going on? Has his spiritual power been damaged to this extent?

The weak flames flickered on the thick firewood, and Qingjun had to keep adding pine branches before he could finally get the stove burning.

Inside the room, Jiang Zhiyang lay motionless in the quilt, but his mind was spinning. He didn't know if he had fainted or fallen asleep; he just felt like he was trapped in a bizarre dream.

There, there were warm embraces, passionate kisses, bright sunshine, endless rain, the persimmon tree was bare, and Mother had run away from the backyard…

His heart was pounding. Was it because Qingjun had pushed him away again? No, he had to hold her tight, he had to kiss her. Ah, his stomach hurt so much. Was he pregnant? Or was he nailed to the wall?

He opened his eyes and realized that his stomach was being pressed hard. It was Ah Lang, that silly dog, lying on top of him. Was he trying to keep him warm?

Seeing that its master had opened his eyes, the wolf let out a few concerned whimpers, leaned over to sniff, and then stuck out its tongue to lick his cheek.

"Ah!" A scream came from outside. Qingjun! Jiang Zhiyang suddenly stood up, pushed A Lang into a fleshy mess, and rushed into the kitchen.

Unexpectedly, the tiny flame had unlimited potential. Thinking that the heat was not enough, Qingjun burned her finger on the scalding hot edge of the pot. She shook her hand, but had no time to take care of it. She hurriedly added two more bundles of firewood to the stove.

"What's wrong!" Seeing Qingjun's anxious expression, Jiang Zhiyang's mind was instantly filled with panic. He held Qingjun's hand, stared at it for a second, and subconsciously put it in his mouth.

Dry lips parted slightly, exhaling wave after wave of warm breath, while inside, soft and moist, a trembling tongue touched fingers, instantly spreading a strange tingling sensation, the brain trembled, and thoughts were emptied.

"Ouch!" As all sensations were filtered out, the scalding mouth only brought a stinging pain. Qingjun subconsciously pulled her fingers out, but she couldn't escape Jiang Zhiyang's palm. She tried to escape again, but Jiang Zhiyang forcefully gripped her wrist and put it into the icy water.

Qingjun breathed a sigh of relief, relieved, but her breath caught in her throat the moment she caught a glimpse of Jiang Zhiyang's face.

His brows were furrowed, his eyes filled with an unprecedented seriousness and gloom, his cold gaze fixed on her reddened fingertips, yet he never once looked up to meet her eyes.

He couldn't even light a fire, nor could he brew medicine. In his haste, he only ended up in a sorry state. The high and mighty god seemed like a helpless fool. Disappointed and at a loss, Qingjun repeatedly berated himself in his heart. What else could he do but watch him like this?

Jiang Zhiyang took out the burnt medicine residue, washed the pot, put in water, and relit the stove. He picked up the iron tongs and took out the firewood that was stuffed inside one by one.

One, two, three, four... The dark, oppressive stove is like a bottomless pit; you can get a piece of firewood as long as you reach out, and it never ends.

Finally, when he pulled out the tenth piece of wood, Jiang Zhiyang couldn't help but laugh.

He looked up, his eyebrows curved, the corners of his mouth turned up, revealing a sharp canine tooth, and he smiled helplessly. But the smile could not hide his sickly appearance, and his weak laughter was still mixed with his rapid coughing.

The dark clouds dispersed, and Qingjun looked at him, her heart finally able to relax for a moment.

Jiang Zhiyang's seriousness was always fleeting. After taking the medicine, he refused to go to sleep, like a spoiled cat, silent but insisting on staying close to Qingjun.

Helpless, Qingjun had no choice but to let him lean on her shoulder. Afraid that the wind was too cold, she had to take off her outer garment and share it with him. Having gotten a little sweetness, the cat took advantage of the situation and buried his head in her arms.

When? When did they get used to this distance? Qingjun didn't know, she just felt that it was good this way, even if they were a little closer, it would be good.

Perhaps it was because the mountains were too quiet, or perhaps the house was too small, but the scenes that could once be easily avoided and escaped were now forced to be faced by Qingjun, to face him, and to face herself.

Rather than burying those tender thoughts in the sand like a guilty conscience, it's better to expose them clearly and openly to the sunlight.

The sun is shining brightly today. Over the past few days, the weather has been intermittently cloudy and rainy, and Jiang Zhiyang's health has fluctuated. However, today is a sunny day.

On the gentle grassy slope, they lay quietly, enjoying the rare sunshine. The grass was fresh beside their ears, and the spring breeze was warming their cheeks. How pleasant it was!

"Qingjun, let's go dig for bamboo shoots later. There must be plenty of fresh bamboo shoots at this time of year."

"it is good."

"We can also pick some mushrooms while we're at it; it's been raining these past few days, so there must be plenty of good stuff."

"it is good."

"It's windy today, so I'll whittle down some bamboo strips and make a kite."

"it is good."

"Qingjun"

"Um."

"Is there anything you particularly want to do?" Jiang Zhiyang turned his head, his nose almost touching Qingjun's.

"Anything you particularly want to do?" Qingjun shook her head. She found everything in this mortal world interesting, but she wasn't good at any of them. Digging bamboo shoots, picking mushrooms, making kites—without exception.

"How could that be? Everyone must have something they particularly want to do, or something they are very good at, right? Aunt Dong can sew clothes, Xiulian likes storybooks, Xiaotao loves poetry, Ali loves lyrics, and Ayu is interested in policy essays." He leaned forward and gave serious examples, as if he were providing Qingjun with a reference answer.

The sole purpose of a pure ruler's existence is to bless all living beings. She needs no tailoring, no storybooks, no poetry or songs, and certainly no political discourse...

"Dancing." Dancing to bestow blessings is perhaps what Jiang Zhiyang calls "something he's good at."

"You can dance! You can dance!" Jiang Zhiyang's eyes widened, filled with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

Dancing is simple. Just swing your arms and twist your body as you please, and the prelude to life will begin. Bare branches will sprout new shoots, and a gentle breeze will bring forth the first peach blossom of spring. The shimmering light will reflect the two or three flocks of birds searching for branches and carrying grass.

"I feel so happy," Jiang Zhiyang said, closing his eyes as the flowing skirt brushed against his brow. "Watching you dance makes me feel so happy."