“Uh, how did it get so broken…” Xin Mei was extremely regretful.
His expression was serious: “It’s fine, I’ll eat it all.”
She sat up wrapped in the blanket and fumbled in the bowl with chopsticks, finally managing to pick up what seemed to be a head-shaped piece of tofu with quick eyes and hands, smiling as she brought it to his mouth: “The head is still here, eat it!”
…Why did this scene keep repeating over and over? Lu Qianqiao numbly swallowed that head. Her tofu was always like this.
“Lu Qianqiao, do you still have to return to the War Ghost clan?”
During the relaxed and pleasant mealtime, she suddenly asked casually.
His feeding motion stopped. After a while, he answered in a low voice: “Mm… some things must be settled. It’s too dangerous, so I can’t bring you.”
“Then when will you leave?”
“…Tomorrow.”
“You mean at dawn? Leaving as soon as day breaks?”
“Mm.”
A warm, soft hand suddenly caressed his cheek. Lu Qianqiao looked at her slight smile: “What’s wrong? Already full?”
Xin Mei stared at him for a long time, then tightened her arms around his neck, the blanket sliding down from her chest. That… spring scene was revealed. Lu Qianqiao immediately felt his arm holding the food bowl stiffen.
“What’s wrong with you? You seem unhappy.” She leaned close and asked in a low voice.
She was sometimes unexpectedly perceptive.
He pulled up the blanket and wrapped her tightly. The spring scene was a small matter, but catching cold again would be a big problem.
“I just can’t bear to leave you,” he said.
Xin Mei opened her mouth in surprise, suddenly reaching out to feel his forehead, then poking her head out to look at the sky outside, murmuring: “No fever… and the sun isn’t rising from the west…”
“…”
He had rarely been so sincere, saying sweet words—why was this her reaction?
“While it’s still dark, you eat while I read you the letter everyone wrote.”
Xin Mei patted his shoulder and turned to rummage through the messy bed for a long time before finally finding that letter crumpled like preserved vegetables. Wrapped in the blanket, she began reading: “Si Lan says, General, I’m sorry! I actually doubted you! I truly deserve to die ten thousand deaths! No! Even dying ten thousand times cannot make up for the heinous crimes I committed against the General…”
There was a long string after that. Among so many demons, his words took up the most space, occupying nearly half the paper. Si Lan had increasingly inherited Manager Zhao’s style recently.
She continued: “Manager Zhao says, General, come back quickly. I can’t bear it alone at the Imperial Tomb.”
He spent his days eating and lazing around, writing about romance when he had nothing else to do—what exactly did he need to bear?
“Sister Yinglian says, I live inside the Imperial Tomb, you live outside the Imperial Tomb. I think of you daily but don’t see you, only shedding a thousand tears.”
This poetry didn’t rhyme at all…
Tao Guoguo and his little brother couldn’t write, so they only pressed handprints on the paper. The little brother’s plump handprint glowed faintly in the darkness. When touched with a finger, a line of consciousness-locked glowing words appeared on the print: [Big Brother Qianqiao! Remember to bring delicious food back!]
They only thought about eating.
…
The long letter was finally finished, and day had already broken. Xin Mei folded the letter and turned back. Lu Qianqiao’s expression was rarely gentle, as if lost in thought.
“Everyone is waiting for you to come home.” She cupped his face and tugged it twice, very seriously. “Lu Qianqiao, you must remember to come home often.”