Chu'he and Ninth were both tacitly unwilling to return just yet—Song Tieniu's cooking was practically poison, and even Ninth, who wasn’t particularly picky about food, couldn’t stomach it.
He felt that Fang Songhe must be his natural enemy.
Finding a clean rock to sit on, Ninth eagerly presented a handful of round, crimson wild fruits to Chu'he, cradling them in his hands like a treasure.
"I searched for ages—these are the only ones that are perfectly red and untouched by bugs," Ninth murmured, leaning in to nuzzle against Chu'he. "Eat, Chu'he."
Chu'he accepted the fruits but didn’t immediately take a bite. Instead, she placed them on her lap, then pulled out a handkerchief and grabbed Ninth’s hand, diligently wiping away the purple stains left by the fruit’s juices.
"Did you run off early this morning just to find these?"
Ninth grinned. "You’re such a glutton—you need at least three meals a day to keep from complaining of hunger. Since you’d never survive on that poison, of course I had to go foraging."
He lowered his head, muttering to himself, and obediently spread his fingers, watching as Chu'he’s handkerchief slowly cleaned each one.
Chu'he’s eyelid twitched. "So you’re saying I eat too much?"
"Even if Chu'he eats a lot, it’s fine," Ninth nodded, then smiled faintly. "I’m your husband. It’s my duty to provide for you."
Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to argue, but somehow, she couldn’t muster any anger.
Ninth offered his other hand. "Chu'he, this one needs cleaning too."
Pursing her lips, Chu'he deliberately pinched his hand hard. "Don’t you have hands? Can’t you do it yourself?"
"I do, but I can’t clean them as well as you."
Ninth examined his freshly scrubbed hand—pale, smooth, and spotless. A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Chu'he’s hands are soft, the handkerchief is soft, and even the way you touch me is gentle. I love it. No one’s ever done something like this for me before."
At his words, her movements faltered, her grip on his hand growing even lighter.
"Last night, Ninth mentioned that by the time he was Chongyang’s age, he was already living alone in the Poison Mist Forest," Chu'he murmured, lifting her gaze. "Have you started remembering your past?"
Ninth’s dark lashes fluttered. A brief silence stretched between them before his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Not at all. I don’t recall anything from before. Just a few faint images from childhood, that’s all."
Chu'he studied him, her gaze rippling with unspoken thoughts. She didn’t respond for a long moment.
Ninth leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. His crimson eyes, so close now, held nothing but her reflection—the shimmering light within them seemed to exist solely because of her.
"If I really did regain my memories… you wouldn’t abandon me, would you?"
His tone was playful, as if teasing, but the question lingered in the air.
Chu'he quickly composed herself and snorted. "Whether you remember or not, you’re mine—in this life, the next, and every one after."
"So domineering."
She glared. "You don’t like it?"
Ninth’s eyes sparkled. "I do."
He peeled one of the wild fruits and held it to her lips, grinning with childlike innocence.
Chu'he took a bite. It was sweet—not bad at all.
On their way back through the woods, Ninth, perhaps out of sheer boredom, pulled out the short flute he’d made and insisted on teaching her how to play.
Chu'he had tried before with dismal results. Embarrassed, she turned her face away. "I don’t want to learn."
"If Chu'he masters it, she can summon my gu insects," Ninth coaxed. "Then, even if we’re apart, you could use them to find me. Isn’t that good?"
But Chu'he latched onto another idea. "If I can summon your gu insects… does that mean I could also command them to bite people?"
Ninth nodded. "That’s possible."
Instantly, she clung to his arm, enthusiasm blazing. "I’ll learn!"
He placed the bamboo flute in her hands, guiding her fingers over the holes with his own. His touch was cool, his fingertips brushing lightly against her skin as he adjusted her grip.
"Relax your fingers. Don’t squeeze too hard. Like this…"
His breath tickled her ear. "Try blowing gently. No need for force."
Ninth always carried a pleasant scent, and the longer Chu'he spent with him, the more addicted she became to it.
Though not a patient person by nature, Ninth made endless exceptions for Chu'he. Even when she fumbled clumsily, he found it endearing.
This was his first time as a teacher, and he explained everything meticulously. But soon, he noticed her leaning further into his chest, her hands wandering up his arms, her fingertips tracing his wrists in a way that sent shivers through him.
Looking down, he saw her lashes fluttering, her nose twitching as she inhaled deeply, her body melting against him.
A strange, syrupy warmth filled his chest, softening his voice to something unbearably tender.
"What are you doing?"
Chu'he had barely practiced a few notes before her focus scattered. Gripping his arm, she buried her nose against it, inhaling deeply before lifting her flushed face with satisfaction.
"I’m smelling Ninth."
He tensed. "Do I… smell bad?"
She shook her head, cheeks still pink. "No. It’s intoxicating."
People often spoke of Central Plains women as demure and reserved. Even in Miaojiang, Ninth had never heard of a woman who so freely declared her affection—or who treated her lover like a cat to be nuzzled.
His ears burned. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but his fingers brushed her warm palm, freezing him in place. He averted his gaze, voice stiff with poorly concealed fluster.
"Chu'he, I don’t usually teach. Pay attention and stop fooling around."
She pouted. "Fine." Then, mischief flashing in her eyes, she turned fully toward him, twisting a lock of his white braid around her finger.
"Teacher Ninth, I’ll study hard. But if I don’t learn well… you won’t keep your student after dark, locking her in the schoolhouse to punish her with a ruler, will you?"
Ninth blinked.
Chu'he rose onto her toes, looping her arms around his neck, her smile sweet and sly.
"After all… Teacher Ninth wouldn’t want to lose his teaching post, would he?"
Much of her implication sailed over his head, but something in her tone sent heat coiling through him—a thrilling, forbidden tension he’d never felt before.
Chu'he stated plainly, "I want a kiss."
Ninth was clearly tempted, yet he still pretended to be proper, as if he had truly stepped into his role as her teacher.
"No."
Chu'he tugged at his little braid. "What about a kiss with open lips? Still no?"
Ninth stiffened his neck, refusing to lower his head.
"No? No? No?—Mmph!"
In the end, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He bent down and silenced her noisy mouth with his own.
