Song Tingxue stood at the edge of the collapsed fissure, his brow furrowed. The darkness within was impenetrable, and only after a long while did the faint sound of falling rocks echo from below—proof of its unfathomable depth.
The ground here shouldn’t have split open. It was likely due to the roots of those flowers growing too rapidly, turning the once-solid earth brittle.
"Mr. Song!" Fang Songhe hurried over, panting. "I heard movement here—did something happen to Ninth and Ah'He?"
Not long ago, Fang Songhe had followed Song Tingxue’s figure deep into the passageway, but instead of finding him, he’d lost his way.
Now, seeing Song Tingxue standing alone while the young couple was nowhere in sight, he quickly guessed they might be in trouble.
Song Tingxue’s eyes flickered faintly, a trace of something sinister hidden within. When he lifted his gaze, his expression was grim. "We were ambushed. They fell into the pit."
"What?" Fang Songhe rushed forward, ready to charge in and rescue them, but Song Tingxue pulled him back.
"We don’t know how deep it is. Fang, I know you’re worried, but recklessness won’t help now."
Fang Songhe forced himself to calm down. Song Tingxue was right—and besides, Ninth was no ordinary man. With him there, he and Ah'He should be safe.
The priority now was to find another path to reunite with the missing pair.
Occasionally, small pebbles tumbled down, their sharp clacks piercing the oppressive silence.
Blue fireflies flitted around tirelessly, their faint glow casting a soft hue over the young man’s cold, pale hair.
Ninth sat on the ground, stealing glances at the girl crouched before him.
She held his hand gingerly, visibly disturbed by the gruesome sight, yet she suppressed her instinctive revulsion as she carefully picked out the gravel embedded in his wounds.
Ninth was indeed extraordinary. His hand was severely injured—flesh stripped away, bone exposed. Yet within moments, countless indescribable organisms writhed beneath his skin, twisting and knitting his flesh back together.
In no time at all, the bone was cloaked anew in muscle and sinew.
To be honest, it was a sight far beyond human comprehension—or tolerance.
Chu'He’s eyes were perpetually damp, as if another spring shower might spill over at any moment.
Ninth shifted uncomfortably, flexing his hand. "It’ll heal soon. See? I can already move."
He raised his hand, splaying his fingers. The congealed blood between them tore apart, yet he didn’t so much as flinch.
Chu'He immediately seized his arm, her voice breaking. "You idiot! Don’t you feel any pain?!"
Ninth stared at her, bewildered.
His upbringing had taught him one thing: survival was all that mattered, no matter how broken his body or how ruthless the means. Pain had never been a factor.
Maybe as a child, he’d feared it—but once numbed, it no longer mattered.
Seeing the mist in Chu'He’s eyes thicken, her "golden beans" threatening to fall again, he instinctively deflated. "Fine, I won’t move," he muttered.
To his surprise, Chu'He suddenly threw herself against him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso, her face buried in his chest as sobs wracked her frame.
Now Ninth was frozen stiff, not daring to twitch.
Naive and crude as he was, he was still a blank slate in many ways—yet even he could sense that Chu'He’s attitude toward him had shifted.
What exactly had changed? He couldn’t articulate it. Only that it felt sticky, torturously so.
Ninth’s bloodied hand finally regenerated its skin, pale as ever—or, as Chu'He often teased, "like a corpse’s."
Before, even brief contact with his cold, lifeless aura had unnerved her.
Now, her fingers tentatively, deliberately brushed against his.
"Does it still hurt?"
Ninth shook his head. "No."
Chu'He interlaced their fingers, squeezing his hand.
It was a gesture Ninth had always initiated. Thanks to him, her first attempt at holding hands felt practiced.
Ninth’s pulse quickened. What sorcery was this? Just her touch alone had him breathless.
Chu'He pressed her lips together, then declared:
"You have your quirks—like playing with bugs. I can accept that."
"But from now on, you’re not eating them in front of me."
"And you’re Little Qing’s poop-scooper now! I refuse to clean up after that worm anymore!"
"Most importantly—no more bullying me!"
After this barrage, she glared up at him, fierce. "If we get along well enough after this… we’re getting married!"
Ninth: "…"
"What’s wrong with you? Can’t you understand plain words?" Chu'He, a proper young lady, had just proposed—and he had no reaction?!
Flustered and furious, she grabbed his face, shaking it. "Ninth, listen! I’m a wealthy, beautiful, brilliant, kind-hearted heiress! Men line up from Jiangnan to the frontier just for a chance with me! You, a backwoods nobody with no house, no carriage—whose only redeeming traits are your pretty face, nice voice, tall frame, and good body—should be grateful I’m choosing you!"
"So give me a straight answer! Do you want to be with me or not?!"
It might’ve been a confession, but her delivery was downright bandit-like—where was the demure, blushing maiden act?
"Or… or…" Her voice wavered, a sniffle escaping. "Are you only protecting me because… because I’m your fiancée? And because of Little Treasure?"
Ninth blinked slowly, his ruby-red eyes guileless.
He understood Chu'He less and less.
She couldn’t fight, was easily scared—yet in danger, she’d run straight toward him without hesitation.
She feared him, yet often mustered the courage to yell in his face.
Now she was still shouting at him, as if forgetting he could reduce her to a whimpering mess with a finger.
Strangest of all? He’d forgotten it too.
Only one thought remained: I need to make her feel better.
So he lowered his head and kissed her, swallowing her protests whole.
Chu'he's mind went blank for a moment when suddenly, the corner of her lips stung from a sharp bite. Pushing him away, she snapped, "What are you doing?!"
Ninth's voice was low and accusing, "You said you're my fiancée. You also claimed you might be carrying my child."
Chu'he faltered, guilt creeping in. "So what?"
"I have no memory of you being my fiancée—maybe you lied about that. And whether you’re really pregnant is still unclear—maybe you lied about that too."
Her scalp prickled, her earlier bravado vanishing as she ducked her head and tried to squirm out of his arms.
But Ninth held her wrist firmly. "But one thing is undeniable: you’re the only one who stirs this craving in me—this need to touch you, to feel you close."
Chu'he looked up, meeting his gaze—innocent yet piercing—and her face burned scarlet.
Even if this was his way of confessing, did he have to be so blunt?
Tilting his head, his lashes fluttered as he pinched her flushed cheek. "Come to think of it, every time you kiss me, my body reacts… uncomfortably."
Her eyes involuntarily flickered downward, and she shifted in his lap, restless as if sitting on needles.
"Maybe all kisses make people feel this way. Perhaps I should try with someone else—"
Chu'he slapped a hand over his mouth. "If you dare test that with anyone else, I’ll kill you!"
Ninth relaxed, his eyes crinkling with lazy amusement as he regarded her futile threat. A low, drawn-out "Oh" escaped him, thick with indulgence.
"You’re so terrifying. Guess I’ll stick to just you."
