Left Saber and Right Saber sat down together. "We're actually magnanimous enough not to bother with short people."
Su Lingxi snorted, dragging Wuya back to her claimed spot. "A summer insect cannot speak of ice—I am the magnanimous one."
Murong Meixin sheathed his sword and stiffened his neck. "So what if my new clothes got dirty? My junior sister will buy me new ones anyway."
Murong Meifei: "When did I ever say I'd buy you new clothes?"
White Dove kicked Black Goose, who reluctantly retracted his whip and muttered, "It's fine. My wife has a hard head—one hit won’t hurt her."
White Dove slapped him. "You're the one with a hard head!"
The Demon-Suppressing Guards and Spirit-Patrol Guards continued glaring at each other.
After exchanging a glance, Zhou Xian and Jia Yi raised their hands, signaling their subordinates to lower their weapons and retreat behind their leaders.
"Why aren’t you fighting anymore?"
Ninth seemed displeased.
Resting his chin on one hand, his silver-white hair swayed faintly, accentuating his deathly pale skin and the thick aura of the deceased around him. His crimson eyes, slit-pupiled like his pet green snake, brimmed with madness and an obsession with death.
He smiled. "I was looking forward to a scene of blood and flesh flying everywhere."
For some reason, his bloodlust had been stirred.
In that instant, everyone’s wariness shifted solely to him.
Dozens of murderous gazes clashed with his indifferent one—yet, bizarrely, the former lost ground under the boy’s careless grin.
Ninth lifted a finger, a tiny black spider dangling from it, swaying playfully as he twirled it. To him, everyone in the room was likely no different from this toy.
A jingling sound, paired with light footsteps, broke the tension like an odd melody intruding upon a deadly standoff.
Ninth’s eyes lifted, his lashes fluttering with sudden vitality. The lifeless aura vanished, replaced by eager anticipation.
"Ninth, I did it!"
Chu'he bounded up the stairs, the bells on her anklet still chiming. She squeezed in beside him, pressing close.
"Look, it’s the little Ninth you gave me." She waved a small wooden figurine in her left hand—a gift from him when they first left Miaojiang.
Then she extended her right hand, revealing another crudely carved figurine. "And this is little Chu'he, for you!"
Ninth accepted it reverently, his eyes sparkling as he examined it.
Chu'he’s craftsmanship was abysmal—unfit even for Miaojiang’s puppet-making standards. Yet, to Ninth, it was beautiful.
The tangled hair like dry twigs? Beautiful.
The lumpy, uneven face, uglier than a New Year’s painting doll? Beautiful.
The twisted, jagged body that felt rough to the touch? Still beautiful.
His fingers brushed over raised carvings on the figurine’s feet—two crude circles. His eyes gleamed.
"It’s the anklet I gave you."
Chu'he nodded. "Exactly!"
For days, she’d been secretly working on something, refusing to show Ninth. Today, she’d even kicked him out, muttering, "Just a bit more."
The little green snake nestled in her hair—now wholly loyal to her—had betrayed nothing.
Chu'he glanced at the tense crowd below and belatedly sensed the mood. "Uh… is something wrong?"
The group averted their eyes, muttering, "Nothing," before resuming their seats.
They seemed ready to discuss serious matters—but what did that have to do with people from Miaojiang?
Subtly, they treated Ninth as an outsider. As for Chu'he, since she was dating a Miaojiang boy, she must lack the wits to be a spy for the supernatural faction anyway.
Chu'he leaned closer, whispering to Ninth, "If we’re ever apart, you can look at this little me and think of me."
Carving wood was far harder than molding clay—her hands were nearly ruined.
After the incident where Ninth was threatened using her, she’d been desperate to finish this gift.
She pressed the two figurines together. "Let’s talk quietly. This is little Ninth, this is little Chu'he—they’re a perfect match."
Ninth smiled softly, pointing at himself. "This is Ninth."
Then at her. "This is Chu'he."
His eyes shone. "We’re a perfect match."
Chu'he propped her chin on her hands, grinning. "Exactly."
Ninth bent forward, resting his forehead against hers. Joy overflowed, his blood thrumming beneath his skin.
He kept stealing glances, uncharacteristically shy, fiddling with the figurine. Finally, he murmured, "Chu'he."
"Hmm?"
"Why can’t we say it louder…?" His ears burned red, though he feigned calm, his nails nearly tearing his clothes. "That we’re a perfect match?"
Chu'he caught his restless hand, cradling the figurines together. "Because everyone’s discussing serious business. We shouldn’t interrupt."
The eavesdropping crowd: "……"
They’d keep pretending not to hear.
Chu'he added, "When we marry someday, our names will be on the invitations. Then everyone will know we’re a perfect match."
Marry.
Ninth’s toes curled uncontrollably. He ducked his head, whispering, "Marry… marry Chu'he."
The little green snake on Chu'he’s shoulder suddenly rolled its eyes and flopped onto her lap, belly-up, dazed.
Then—
"BUGS! So many bugs! Junior sister, I’m unclean now!" Murong Meixin’s shriek shook the heavens.
A rustling erupted as insects rained from everywhere—inside, outside, swarming in a dense, feverish haze.
Chu'he checked her feverish little snake, then touched Ninth’s scarlet ears. His face, when he looked at her, was flushed from cheeks to soul, his eyes like crushed sunset.
"Spirit Patrol Guards, protect the Madam and the Young Master!"
"So many bugs!"
"Are the three of us really going to die here?"
"My newly styled hair, my newly styled hair!"
"I'm filthy, I'm filthy now! Junior Sister, come hug me, comfort me!"
"Get lost!"
"The methods of the Miaojiang people are this vicious? That boy's cunning runs deeper than expected!"
"Darling, let's be husband and wife again in our next life!"
"Husband, I love you!"
"Cough, cough, cough!"
"Grandmother!"
"This scholar and the child haven’t bathed in three days, don’t eat us!"
"Damn it all, my inn!"
"The Demon-Suppressing Guards are here, stay calm!"
...
Amidst the chaos, Chu'he felt she had to say something. Just as she opened her mouth, her eyes met the young man’s misty gaze, and under its strange enchantment, her cheeks began to warm inexplicably.
How odd.
They’d already embraced, kissed, and even "slept" together—so why did a single glance still make her heart race?
With unspoken understanding, they both turned their faces away, heads bowed, their flustered gazes burning from head to toe.
Yet their hands refused to part. Instead, their fingers slowly intertwined, clasping tighter and tighter.
