“It’s all right, it’s all right.” Cheng Yao immediately pressed down on his hand. “It’s my fault for not explaining it properly. This thing is used to dry hair.”
Zhan Haoting was puzzled. “Dry hair?”
Cheng Yao pointed the hair dryer at the back of his hand and blew on it. “See? It’s warm air. It dries hair very quickly.”
Once Zhan Haoting realized the object posed no danger, he relaxed and lay back down.
The warm air swept gently through his hair. Her fingers threaded through his damp strands, softly loosening the tangled places, while her fingertips occasionally brushed the skin behind his ear.
Whenever that happened, he would tilt his head slightly, looking utterly content, like a lazy cat basking in the sunlight.
“Is the air too hot?” Cheng Yao moved the hair dryer farther away. She pinched up a lock of his half-dry hair, testing its temperature.
Zhan Haoting said nothing. He merely reached one hand behind him and accurately covered the back of hers where it rested beside the bed, his fingertips gently stroking her knuckles.
Amid the hum of the hair dryer, he turned his head to look at her. His gaze was soft and warm. “The ends of your hair are dripping.”
She froze for a moment before realizing that the tips of her hair had fallen against his neck. She hurriedly pulled back.
But he caught her wrist with his other hand and gently tugged her toward him.
The warm air continued to blow. Strands of hair drifted between them as the tip of his nose brushed against her fingers, carrying the clean fragrance of shampoo. The warmth in the air suddenly grew thick and heavy.
Even her breathing slowed for half a beat. She pressed the button, and the hair dryer’s hum abruptly stopped. Before she could withdraw the hand holding it, he gave it a gentle tug.
Caught completely off guard, she fell onto the bed in front of him. When she looked up, she collided with his clear, smiling eyes. They reflected the warm yellow lamplight, as well as her own startled expression.
“Your turn.”
His hand naturally moved to her damp hair.
Cheng Yao undid her hair. The ends, still carrying traces of moisture, brushed against the back of his hand.
He took the hair dryer from her and, feeling his way, aimed it at her head. His movements were clumsy but gentle.
Like her, he used his long fingers as a comb, slowly smoothing out her hair. When he occasionally touched the tips of her ears and saw her flinch, he immediately lightened his touch.
Cheng Yao breathed in the faint scent of body wash on him. Mixed with her own fragrance, it twined into one soft, warm presence.
Unable to resist, she reached out and lightly touched the beads of water on his wrist.
Her heart was peaceful and warm. The gesture had been entirely instinctive.
Zhan Haoting’s movements paused. “Don’t fool around. Dry your hair first.”
His palm covered the back of her neck and drew her closer, letting the warm air envelop them more tightly.
Now that they were even closer, Cheng Yao couldn’t take it anymore. She was afraid she might lose control and pounce on him.
So she pulled free of his hand. “You’re injured. I’ll do it myself.”
A flicker passed through Zhan Haoting’s eyes. He stroked the soft mattress beneath him. After she turned off the hair dryer, he asked, “Can you use magic?”
Cheng Yao laughed. “I’m not a fairy. How could I know magic?”
Zhan Haoting fixed his gaze on her. “Then… are you a demon?”
If she wasn’t some kind of supernatural creature, how else could he explain such extraordinary abilities?
Cheng Yao met his curious, probing eyes.
She tugged at the corner of her lips, forming a curve touched by bitterness and self-mockery. Her voice was as soft as a sigh.
“Just think of me as one.”
Just think of her as a wandering soul from another world—as a “demon” this world could never understand.
Perhaps that would make things simpler.
Zhan Haoting’s entire body shook, and a storm surged through his heart.
She hadn’t denied it!
Yes. If she wasn’t some kind of supernatural creature, how else could he explain everything about her?
And yet he also felt that she was the same as him, that they were both human.
But did it matter what she was?
When he had been at his most desperate and wretched, she had reached out to him again and again, pulling him back from the gates of death and giving him warmth and peace.
She had treated him with such wholehearted devotion and had never harmed anyone. Whether she was human, ghost, or demon—what difference did it make?
Cheng Yao quickly treated his wounds, reminded Zhan Haoting to rest in bed, changed her clothes, and went to the kitchen to cook porridge and mince some meat.
Before long, she brought him a steaming bowl of thick meat porridge.
“Eat something.”
Zhan Haoting caught the enticing scent of meat and rice, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Bracing himself with both hands against the mattress, he actually managed to slowly sit up.
Cheng Yao stared at him in astonishment. “You…”
She covered her mouth with one small hand, overwhelmed by joy.
For more than half a month, he had been like a broken, fragile rag doll, completely unable to move. Until today, he had barely been able to move his arms. She had never dared imagine that he would be able to sit up so soon.
Zhan Haoting beckoned to her.
She hurriedly set down the bowl of porridge and leaned into his arms.
His arms wrapped firmly around her, and he let out a deeply satisfied sigh.
Cheng Yao burst into tears of joy.
She loosely circled his back, her tears landing on the fabric over his shoulder and spreading into a small damp patch.
Zhan Haoting raised a hand and brushed over her hair, his fingertips wiping away the tears on her cheek. His movements were so gentle, as though he were afraid of breaking her.
He lowered his head slightly. The tip of his nose first brushed against her forehead.
“Don’t cry.” His kiss landed on her eyelid, soft as a feather. “If you keep crying, I’m afraid my wounds will start hurting again.”
“You’re just pretending.”
Cheng Yao laughed and rubbed her little face against his chest. “When did you manage this?”
“In the past two days.” He stroked her back. “I owe you so much for everything you’ve done these past days.”
“And your younger brother, too.”
“Yes.” Zhan Haoting’s voice was hoarse. “You and he are both blessings sent to me.”
Cheng Yao laughed. “You’re not calling me a demon anymore?”
Zhan Haoting froze.
Cheng Yao keenly sensed the change in his emotions.
Was he still troubled by her identity after all?
A sour ache rose in her heart. She pulled herself out of his arms and picked up the bowl of porridge.
“Eat first, or it’ll get cold.”
As usual, she began feeding him.
He didn’t open his mouth immediately. Instead, he raised his hand and gently clasped the wrist of the hand holding the bowl.
His fingertips were cold, but his palm was scorching hot.
Cheng Yao’s body stiffened, but she didn’t pull away.
“No matter where you come from, you are mine.” He looked at her, his gaze as deep as the sea, his voice dark and commanding. “The bond between husband and wife, the debt of saving my life, and the loyalty you’ve shown me—I will remember them all to the bottom of my heart and never forget them for as long as I live.”
The room fell silent. Only their faint breathing could be heard.
Warm bedroom light enveloped them.
The earlier probing and suspicion, trust and estrangement—all those complicated emotions tugged at their hearts.
But his words smoothed away the unease in both their hearts, giving rise to an even deeper dependence.
She wanted to say something, but before she could speak, his arm tightened around her waist, and he lowered his lips to hers in a deep, tender kiss.
…
No matter how often Shao Yutong and her daughter were driven away by the others, they never truly left the group. They continued to follow along the outskirts.
At that moment, Shao Yutong moved stealthily through the darkness like a slippery venomous snake.
She circled the group twice, confirming that Zhan Haoting and his wife truly weren’t among them.
How could they have disappeared right under the bailiffs’ noses? Could it be that… they had escaped?
Her heart gave a violent jolt. Her eyes darted around as she told Zhan Yurong to stay where she was. Then she crept over to Feng Xianxian, who was huddled in a corner and shivering from the cold, and made two quiet hushing sounds at her.
Zhan Jinmo was lying far away from Feng Xianxian. He was asleep and didn’t hear a thing.
Still groggy with sleep, Feng Xianxian was startled. When she took a closer look and saw who it was, she rolled her eyes and turned over.
“Second Cousin-in-law.” Shao Yutong moved closer and lowered her voice. “Eldest Cousin and his wife are missing.”
