Luo Luo was lost in a dream.
Behind the pear blossom tree stretched a vast forest of fiery red maples.
Sunlight pierced through the burning crimson leaves, scattering flecks of scarlet and gold onto her body and face. Through her thin white robe, it felt as if she were aflame.
Li Zhaoye sat on a mossy stone slab, tending to his wounds with one knee drawn up.
A battle fanatic, he never seemed to feel pain during fights, often ending up battered and bruised.
Now, his robe hung open carelessly, revealing a firm, sculpted chest. Luo Luo’s gaze inadvertently drifted downward, catching a glimpse of his taut waist.
The riot of red leaves blurred her vision.
Dizzy, she dared not look too closely—only noticing the wound below his collarbone, blood staining his robe like red plum blossoms blooming on snow.
She hesitated, unsure what to say.
Showing concern for Li Zhaoye’s injuries felt unbearably sentimental.
Once, their Master had theatrically fretted over him: "Ahhh, how did you get yourself into such a state again? This old man’s heart aches for you!"
Li Zhaoye merely lifted his eyelids and stretched out his palm.
"Sympathy won’t heal wounds," he drawled. "Pills will. Hand over those seven Heaven-grade Restoration Pills you’ve hidden inside the fourth candlestick’s copper base."
Master: "…?! You little rascal! Are you a treasure-hunting mole or what?!"
Li Zhaoye smirked shamelessly. "So, giving or not? Or should I mention that incident with the sect leader’s chives…"
Master surrendered. "Fine, fine, take them!"
Seizing the opportunity, Li Zhaoye pressed further. "Three ‘fines’ mean three pills—many thanks, oh generous Master!"
He even called him "Master" now. Tch.
Master gritted his teeth. "…Deal."
Li Zhaoye exhaled dramatically. "Ah, well, my junior sister and I already took one each earlier, so you only owe me one. One pill, and we’re even."
Master: "…??!!"
Wait—this brat stole two pills, and now he owed him?!
The memory faded, and Luo Luo couldn’t help but laugh.
She stole a glance at Li Zhaoye before her.
Crimson sunlight bathed him as he sat on the stone slab, his robe still hanging open while he roughly treated his wound, smearing blood everywhere.
Luo Luo’s heart ached.
Li Zhaoye was a practical man—no use for empty words. If you wanted to help, give him pills. Or spirit stones.
But Luo Luo was penniless… Well, she’d never been rich to begin with.
What did she have?
Ah—two roast chickens!
She straightened her face into solemnity and approached him, offering to share the meal.
But he didn’t respond.
Suddenly, a chill crawled up her spine—she remembered. Master had said Li Zhaoye was a "sacrificial rooster," and she was just a "little pheasant."
They were both chickens raised for the New Year’s feast.
The realization struck like ice.
Li Zhaoye had already been slaughtered. Killed, killed, killed, killed…
Terror and agony surged through her chest, thick with the stench of blood. Her breath hitched, her stomach clenched as if gripped by an invisible hand.
Then, abruptly, someone yanked her up and tossed her onto the stone slab.
Luo Luo: "???"
The world spun. The slab wasn’t as hard as expected—more like it was cushioned with fine satin.
A finger jabbed at her, its owner seeming furious.
Her thoughts tangled. "Don’t eat me…" she mumbled, swatting weakly at his hand.
She wasn’t a pheasant. Li Zhaoye wasn’t a rooster.
The man paused, then snorted. "Who’d want to eat you?"
His voice—light, careless, slightly rough—was unmistakably Li Zhaoye’s.
Luo Luo shivered.
Right. If not her, then they’d eat him.
She was cowardly and hated pain, but if one of them had to die… she wanted to protect him.
"No, eat me," she pleaded, her dream-addled mind grasping at his loose collar. "Eat me, you eat me!"
If he ate her, they wouldn’t eat Li Zhaoye.
He pushed her forehead back, but she tilted her face up—her lips brushing his palm.
Muffled against his hand, she kept murmuring, "Eat me, eat me, eat me."
His pupils contracted as he stared down at her like she’d grown a second head.
…It tickled.
…Maddeningly so.
…Since when were lips this soft?
Hers weren’t fully closed, slightly parted like petals that might crumble at a touch.
Her warm breath fanned over his palm, and suddenly his hand could smell—the scent of her mouth unmistakable.
Sweet. Fragrant. As if steeped in flower nectar.
Still, she babbled on, begging him to devour her.
A dreadful premonition prickled his spine. What if she suddenly… licked him?
The mere thought sent a bolt of lightning through him, fire racing down his veins until his vision darkened.
Snatching his hand back, he nearly toppled off the stone slab—only his reflexes saved him from an undignified sprawl.
The god-king laughed in sheer exasperation.
"Am I that stupid to fall for your seduction?" He jabbed a finger at her. "Besides, you’re not even—"
His gaze landed on her face.
In the dim, eerie glow of the palace’s candles, the woman curled on the windowsill looked like a soul-stealing siren.
He shut his mouth.
…Alright, she was beautiful. But he wasn’t fooled.
This woman was clearly scheming, her mind full of indecent thoughts—pining for someone else while trying to tempt him?
Did she think he had no standards?
Glaring, he watched her slump into the pillows, still muttering in her sleep.
Her hair spilled like ink, her lashes fluttering. Between her slightly parted lips lay a glimpse of something too dangerous to dwell on.
With that mouth, she’d asked him to eat her.
His eyes narrowed, crimson flickering in their depths.
Leaning closer, he gripped the nape of her neck and dragged her toward him.
His cold, sharp nose brushed her brow and cheek, their breaths mingling. His gaze dropped to her lips, the faint gleam of teeth behind them.
"Want me to eat you?" he taunted, voice low and wicked.
Luo Luo’s heart quivered, her lashes trembling.
Li Zhaoye’s scent surrounded her—so close, just like that time in the valley.
If she’d known they’d have no future, she would’ve kissed him then.
Just a little closer…
Her lips met his.
Exactly as she’d imagined—thin, cool, the line of them firm and elegant even without looking.
Lost in the dream, she let herself indulge, pressing featherlight kisses to his mouth.
A moment later, she heard a dark, amused chuckle.
Then her lower lip stung—captured by cold, hard teeth. He wasn’t gentle—Li Zhaoye had never been a man associated with the word "gentle."
"Ah." She winced, instinctively trying to raise her hand, but her limbs felt weak and boneless.
He bit down on her lip, as though suppressing a surge of dark fury.
For a long moment, he didn’t move further, only letting out a low, instinctually chilling laugh.
He pressed harder.
Clamping down on the petal-soft flesh, his voice was muffled between sharp teeth: "Eat you? You sure?"
She probably didn’t realize he truly meant it—the way her mind imagined it. Tear her skin, drain her blood, crush her bones.
Luo Luo’s breath trembled. "If you eat me… then don’t eat Li Zhaoye."
He: "…"
He stared at her as if she’d grown a second head, his pupils narrowing to slits, the marks around them tightening.
Li Zhaoye—that pretty-faced nobody her mind kept circling back to.
He’d seen him at the Tai Xuan Sect. Utterly unremarkable, with some screeching woman clinging to him.
What a joke.
He smirked.
"This lord has no such vulgar tastes." Gripping the nape of her neck, he shoved her back onto the soft pillow, his voice a hoarse scoff. "Why would I eat you? What’s so appetizing about you?"
Luo Luo mumbled drowsily, "Roast chicken… is delicious."
He: "…"
So she’d dreamed herself into a roast chicken.
Impressive.
He wiped his lower lip with his thumb.
The taste of her lingered—a haunting familiarity, as though he’d dreamed it a thousand times.
His pulse hammered, breath turned ragged, a restless heat crawling under his skin.
"Appetite."
That was the answer.
By midnight, he’d moved to the far end of the window seat, putting as much distance between them as possible.
He noticed she slept fitfully.
Fidgeting, twisting—like some absurdly beautiful worm. (Luo Luo: Thanks for the imagery.)
After a moment of scrutiny, he concluded: the window seat was too narrow, too hard.
He knocked on it. Definitely not meant for humans.
Not that he was being fussy—this place used to house beasts. Every furnishing prioritized durability and claw resistance. Beneath the thin emerald silk covering was a stone slab.
He chuckled. "Serves you right."
Another moment passed, her constant shifting grating on his nerves.
With an irritated grunt, he stood, hauling her up with one hand.
Luo Luo slumped limply against him.
He carried her back to the bed, tossed her into the plush bedding, threw a quilt over her, and turned to leave.
He barely took two steps before freezing.
Wait.
If she’d sleepwalked her way onto his seat to seduce him, and he just returned her like this… wouldn’t she deny everything tomorrow?
His lips thinned, the marks at his temples twitching, eyes flickering with calculation.
After a long deliberation, he decided—this was an unacceptable loss.
No. She had to know about her sleepwalking habit.
Resolved, he spun around, strode back to the bed, bent down, yanked the quilt aside, and scooped her out of her cozy nest.
Back to the window seat. Just as he was about to set her down, her squirming annoyed him anew.
He hesitated—lowering her, lifting her, lowering her again.
The jostling finally roused Luo Luo.
Blinking groggily, the first thing she saw was his half-open robe, the lean, sculpted chest beneath.
Her gaze drifted up—a striking Adam’s apple, the sharp, elegant line of his jaw.
He was holding her… placing her onto the window seat.
Shock and confusion tangled in her mind.
Just as she was puzzling over it, she heard him mutter to himself, "You crawled into my bed. Don’t even think about playing innocent."
He set her down.
On the window seat.
Luo Luo was utterly floored by his logic.
Smug, he glanced sideways at her—casual, triumphant.
Then met her wide-awake, horrified stare.
Instant petrification.
