Ninth's pupils dilated slightly, as if stunned by those words. The next moment, his Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes lowering as though he didn't dare look at her. Yet almost immediately, his hand reached out, gripping hers tightly before interlacing their fingers, filling every gap between them.
Chu'he lifted her other hand, gently brushing aside the strands of hair obscuring his face, revealing his flushed ears and burning cheeks.
Instinctively, Ninth nuzzled against Chu'he's palm like a highly dependent young creature seeking comfort.
How strange.
A peculiar feeling rose in Ninth's chest.
Every time her fingertips lightly grazed his skin—with such cautious tenderness—it made him wonder if he, too, could be someone's treasured beloved, rather than just a feared demon in the eyes of the world.
The boy's gaze flickered, the red flecks in his eyes rarer and more precious than the usual blue stars.
Chu'he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.
Ninth's lashes fluttered, and he pursed his lips. "Chu'he, why did you kiss me?"
"I'm kissing the treasure I fought so hard to win. I can kiss you whenever I want—why would I need a reason?"
The curve of his lips quivered, unable to suppress a smile. A soft, lighthearted laugh escaped him, dispelling the heaviness in the air. The warmth and vitality radiating from him seemed to sweeten the atmosphere, wrapping around them both.
How strange.
Chu'he felt it too—this inexplicable sensation.
This boy, whom many saw as an ill omen, struck her as pure and beautiful. Just holding his hand felt like grasping the warmth of an entire spring day.
Come to think of it, how should people interact with one another? How should a close relationship be nurtured in a healthy way? And when fear gripped her heart, could she let her beloved know?
He had understood nothing when her lies lured him out of Miaojiang.
Chu'he had grown so accustomed to their playful bickering, to his carefree and easily soothed nature, that she had forgotten—this was Ninth's first time leaving Miaojiang, his first time stepping into the unfamiliar Central Plains, and his first time meeting her family. Of course he would feel uneasy.
In this vast land, his striking appearance marked him as an outsider. With an uncertain future ahead, he had no one to rely on but Chu'he. Yet despite everything, he had still chosen to follow her here.
He had tied his entire existence to her.
A sudden weight settled in Chu'he's chest.
Ninth pressed a hand to his own heart. "Chu'he, my heart feels uncomfortable."
She poked his cheek. "Silly, that's my discomfort you're feeling."
He blinked, processing her words, then placed his hand over her chest. "Chu'he... did I make you feel this way?"
Her eyes stung, turning red. "It's not your fault. It's mine."
How long had he been hiding his fear? She had only just realized it now. If she had been any slower to notice, would Ninth have become another Chongyang?
Some regrets should never be repeated.
Some decisions should no longer be delayed.
Now was the time for her to choose.
As Chu'he leaned into him, Ninth instinctively opened his arms, enveloping her as she nestled against his chest. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head, holding her close.
Chu'he loved the feeling of being wrapped entirely in his embrace, surrounded by his comforting scent, safe and secure.
"Ninth, I want to give you a gift."
His eyes brightened. "A gift?"
"It's a very, very big gift. I can't do it alone—I need Fang Songhe's help."
Ninth fell silent again.
Chu'he lifted her gaze to meet his. "You'll love this gift. Once you have it, nothing in this world will ever separate us again."
His heart skipped. "Really?"
She smiled. "Really."
When Fang Songhe slowly regained consciousness, he found himself in a familiar setting and momentarily froze.
Hadn’t he left the village? How had he fallen asleep and inexplicably returned?
His gaze shifted—only to jerk back in alarm at the sight of two heads, one male and one female, peering at him from beside the bed. He scrambled upright, retreating into the corner and clutching the blanket tightly around himself.
Chu'he crouched by the bed, chin propped on her hands, grinning. "Fang Songhe, you're awake!"
Ninth mirrored her pose, eyes crinkling with delight. "You're awake!"
Fang Songhe swallowed nervously. "What... are you two doing?"
Chu'he nudged Ninth.
Though reluctant, the thought of the gift made him comply. "Stubborn Ox, I want to swear brotherhood with you. From now on, you'll be my elder brother."
Fang Songhe blinked. "Huh?"
Chu'he chimed in, "After all we've been through together, we deeply respect your character, Fang Songhe. Ninth has no other family, and sometimes he needs guidance on important matters... You know me—I'm not the brightest. Small things are fine, but big decisions? I’m hopeless! If you two become sworn brothers, Ninth won’t have to worry about lacking advice anymore!"
Fang Songhe hesitated. "Well..."
Chu'he sighed dramatically. "Ah, Ninth doesn’t understand anything, and neither do I. No one’s ever taught him right from wrong. Now that we’re in the Central Plains, if he gets bored and decides to kill or burn something, it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?"
Ninth tilted his head. "Not a big deal, right?"
Fang Songhe threw off the blanket, sitting upright with solemn dignity. "Ninth and I are fated. Since you hold me in such esteem, I will swear brotherhood with him today. Though the Central Plains differ from Miaojiang, there are still rules to follow. From now on, if you’re unsure about anything, come to me. No more reckless actions."
Chu'he: "Fang Songhe, you’re truly a great man!"
Ninth: "Stubborn Ox, you’re truly a great man!"
Fang Songhe’s expression turned awkward. "If we’re to be sworn brothers, perhaps you should stop calling me that."
The martial world had little use for elaborate rituals. Under the moonlight, Fang Songhe and Ninth each held a bowl of wine, with Chu'he as their witness. One drink later, the oath was sealed.
After downing his bowl, Ninth’s face flushed crimson, and he stood motionless, dazed.
Chu'he, however, quickly pulled Fang Songhe inside.
Ninth swayed unsteadily, stumbling after them—only for the door to slam shut in his face.
His lips pressed into a pout as he drunkenly scratched at the wood. "Chu'he... Chu'he... let me in... I want to be with you..."
The sound of nails dragging across the door sent shivers down the spine.
"Wait a little longer! We’re preparing your gift!"
"No! I don’t want the gift anymore! I want to see you! I want to stay with you!"
"Chu'he!"
"Chu'he!"
"Stubborn Ox, give Chu'he back to me!"
The scratching continued, his alcohol tolerance unexpectedly poor. With red-rimmed eyes and a pitiful expression, he left deep marks on the door like a cat determined to tear the house apart.
Finally, the latch inside clicked open.
The door swung open, and Ninth stumbled forward, his knees hitting the ground. Yet the girl who usually doted on him didn’t rush to help him up.
Ninth’s heart ached even more. He lifted his pale face, and the scene before him left him frozen.
Two white candles burned on the table, and a faded yellow paper—crudely cut into the character for "double happiness"—was pasted crookedly on the wall. It was far from elegant.
Fang Songhe sat stiffly at the head of the room, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Given the circumstances, we must make do. But as the saying goes, 'an elder brother is like a father.' Today, I shall stand as your witness. Though there are no formal betrothal gifts or elders present, these candles and paper shall serve as proof, honoring the sincerity of your hearts."
After reciting the customary words, Fang Songhe still shifted uneasily.
Not long ago, when he first heard Chu'he’s outrageous idea, his immediate reaction was that it broke all conventions. But Chu'he had insisted—her marriage was her own to decide. At worst, they could always hold a proper ceremony later.
All she needed was a witness, someone to vouch for her when she returned home.
"Hero Fang, don’t you think Ninth and I are simply meant to be?"
Fang Songhe couldn’t argue.
A man who had lived his life by the rules, he must have lost his mind to agree to such madness.
Ninth barely registered Fang Songhe’s murmurs. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the floor, his gaze fixed solely on the girl.
The flickering candlelight, ordinary as it was, seemed to illuminate the entire room.
Her figure was ethereal, draped in a piece of red silk she’d scavenged—a makeshift bridal veil—yet she shone like a celestial being descended to earth. No matter how bright the candles burned, they paled in comparison.
Chu'he stepped closer.
For some reason, panic seized him. He retreated two steps, his throat dry, fingers trembling. Everything felt real, yet he feared that if he reached out, it would all shatter like an illusion.
Chu'he advanced three more steps and firmly grasped his hand.
The warmth between them was undeniable.
"Ninth," she whispered, rising onto her toes to murmur another name by his ear. "Chi Yan."
"Will you marry me?"
His voice was tight, nearly hoarse, when he finally spoke. "Chu'he… I don’t want this as a trade."
How long could his clumsy act last?
She must have known already—it was him. He was the one controlling the illusion.
Afraid of the gossip, terrified her family would reject him, worried she’d buckle under the pressure and stop loving him, he had clung to cowardice, trying to trap her here in a life untouched by outsiders.
Now, she wanted to marry him. Was this the price she was paying for her freedom?
Chu'he shook her head. "This isn’t a trade."
Ninth’s voice cracked. "No?"
"Have you forgotten what I told you? I’m the esteemed Miss Chu of the Chu family. Suitors line up from Jiangnan to the farthest deserts. You? You’ve got no house, no carriage, and you’re an illiterate from the backwoods. But you’re the luckiest—because I’m blind enough to love you!"
"I want to be your wife. I want to raise little ones with you."
"And, Ninth, I want to give you more strength."
His vision blurred, confusion clouding his thoughts. "Strength… for what?"
She laughed. "Fool, so you can stand tall against the whispers and tell them you’re the most perfect man there is!"
"Because the fact that I love you alone means you’ve already defeated everyone else in this world!"
The boy’s breath hitched, his expression blank.
He couldn’t see her face beneath the red veil, but his eyes, though misted, seemed to reflect her image clearer than ever before.
The weight in his chest spread rapidly, her scorching words echoing in his ears, threatening to melt his heart beyond repair.
His pale fingers twitched, hooking around her thumb. Then, as if drawing strength at last, he enveloped her hand completely in his larger grasp.
"A wedding… Chu'he, I’ll marry you."
Fang Songhe watched the two figures. Moments ago, he’d lamented his own descent into madness. Now, sipping his tea, he gazed at the young pair—destined, undeniable—and smiled.
Maybe losing his mind once in a while wasn’t so bad.
