After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 31

The reception hall of the City Lord’s manor was steeped in a faintly awkward atmosphere.

Yesterday, under the influence of the command spell, Zheng Weiqi had suddenly transformed into a domineering CEO-type heroine, utterly overwhelming the actual cold and powerful Jiang Si. For the first time ever, the imposing young master of the Jiang clan was struck speechless, forced into the role of a delicate, flustered little white flower.

Later, when He Zhizhou led the physician over to check on him, the spell still hadn’t worn off. Zheng Weiqi slapped the approaching hand away and arched a brow with a frosty sneer.
“Did I say you could touch him? Hmm? This hand—are you going to chop it off yourself, or shall I do it for you?”

The physician fell silent, face full of panic, then leaned over to whisper nervously, “How long… has she been in this state?”

In short, Zheng Weiqi was finally carried off, thoroughly bound from head to toe, and the chaotic scene came to an end.

After waking up, she swore she’d never see Jiang Si again. But fate had other plans—today, the Sect Leader, Tian Xianzi, and Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao had all come in person. No matter how unwilling she was, she had no choice but to show her face in the reception hall.

…

“If not for you young heroes, Garan City would have fallen into disaster. We owe you a great debt.”

Setting aside yesterday’s questionable behavior, Jiang Si was still impeccable in public.

Dressed in flowing black robes, his entire presence exuded a calm and distant nobility. The silk trimming on his sleeves swayed lightly as he moved, his figure elegant like jade carved from a tree of immortals. His voice was rich and mellow, carrying the unique refinement of an aristocratic upbringing.

“This one is deeply grateful.”

Seated across from him, Sect Leader Ji Yunkai—still in his childlike form—gave a gentle smile. Due to his short height, he had to lean far over the table, fingers stretched out in an effort to reach the teapot.
“No need for thanks, Young Lord. Subduing demons is the duty of all disciples of the Xuanxu Sword Sect. Especially now—this Demon Lord incident is no trivial matter.”

Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao, seated beside him, gave the teapot a small push toward Ji Yunkai, his expression cool and composed.
“Indeed. Young Lord may not know, but after the great war between the immortals and demons, though the demonic race was gravely wounded and went into hiding, some remnants still scheme to rise again. Their chaos leaves the mortal realms in ruin. Lately, demonic energy has been appearing more frequently. If we had let Xuan Ye escape…”
He trailed off, the implication chilling.

Jiang Si sighed.
“Garan has been sealed for three hundred years. The demons here are like frogs at the bottom of a well… But I imagine the immortal sects didn’t come out unscathed either after that war.”

Zheng Weiqi muttered under her breath,
“So you do know you’re an old relic.”

She tried to keep her voice low, but Jiang Si’s faint glance still landed on her. Not one to back down, Senior Sister Zheng widened her eyes and glared right back, full of righteous indignation.

“Too right,” Tian Xianzi added, unusually solemn. He took a sip of tea before continuing,
“Of the three great swordmasters from back then—Sect Master He ended up like this; Wen Hemian lost all his cultivation and now hides in a secluded valley, refusing to come out; and the one from the Ten Thousand Swords Sect…”
He paused.
“Gone in both body and soul. Not even a corpse remained.”

“Alright, alright,” Ji Yunkai broke in, his smile returning like spring sunshine. His voice was still childish in tone, but every word carried the weight of authority.
“The younger generation has finally made some merit—why are we old fossils lamenting history?”
He turned to Ning Ning.
“I heard Pei Ji dealt a heavy blow to the Demon Lord. How is the child now?”

Ning Ning responded softly, “He’s awake and recovering in the medical hall.”

“Elder Meng Qing’s contribution this time cannot be overstated,” she added.

Tian Xianzi raised a cup of tea and offered it respectfully to the white-haired elder seated nearby.
“To lie dormant by Xuan Ye’s side for years, risking everything for the sake of Garan City… Elder Meng’s dedication is truly admirable.”

Meng Qing shook his head slowly.
“The Meng family has always been loyal to Garan City. I could not allow our ancestors’ name to be disgraced. If anything, it was thanks to the young lord’s strategic planning that the city was saved from falling into demonic hands.”

His tone was modest and calm, barely revealing any emotion. But the girl sitting beside him, Meng Jiaqian, quietly inhaled, her nose turning red with the effort to hold back tears.

Lying low beside Xuan Ye for so many years hadn’t just meant the constant threat of death from a volatile demon lord—it also meant enduring the hatred and contempt of every single demon in the city.

Back then, she’d believed her father had betrayed Garan. She’d shouted at him in anger, even declared their father-daughter relationship severed. Looking back now, it all felt like a dream—fuzzy and distant.

This grand scheme that had spanned over three hundred years… everyone had paid a heavy price.

Meng Qing sighed deeply.
“I have a clear conscience. The only person I failed… is my daughter.”
He turned his gaze toward Meng Jiaqian.
“She’s suffered much, yet I couldn’t be there to protect her.”

Ji Yunkai smiled. Though his voice was still childlike, his words carried quiet strength.
“Your daughter and this young man, Qin Gongzi, both contributed greatly to the battle against Xuan Ye. Such wisdom and selflessness from a child—Elder Meng should be proud.”

The Qin Gongzi in question, Qin Chuan, looked completely baffled. His rugged, scar-covered face twisted into pure confusion as he slowly raised his head.

He sat there blankly for a moment, until something seemed to occur to him—his eyes lit up with sudden interest.
“You guys… you’re elders from the Xuanxu Sword Sect, right? Is Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao here too?”

Oh? Could it be… we’ve got ourselves a little fanboy?

Tian Xianzi chuckled and cast a subtle glance at his senior brother.

Zhenxiao was famously cold and aloof, but every time a junior sang his praises with a few too many flowery words, even he couldn’t stop the faint red from blooming on his cheeks. For a man known as the most indifferent sword cultivator of his generation, that rare display of awkwardness was almost legendary.

As his younger martial brother, how could Tian Xianzi not take this golden opportunity to poke some fun?

“What a shame,” Tian Xianzi said, eyes narrowing slyly like a scheming fox.
“Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao is rather busy today, so he couldn’t attend.”
He leaned in slightly.
“What’s the matter? You dying to meet him?”

The tall, broad-shouldered Qin Chuan paused, then nodded furiously with genuine enthusiasm.
“I really wanna see Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao’s long dragon!”

PFFT—

Zheng Weiqi choked violently, spraying out the mouthful of tea she had just swallowed.

Something told her… she might not make it out of this room alive today.

“L-Long dragon?”

Tian Xianzi hadn’t expected that response. His mouth twitched.
“And… what exactly do you mean by this… ‘long dragon’?”

But Qin Chuan’s face remained honest and earnest, making Tian Xianzi look like he was the one with impure thoughts. Before the elder could recover, Qin Chuan went on, cheerful and oblivious.
“You know, that thing he always uses to poke the female disciples!”

A deadly silence fell.

Everyone froze.

Meng Jiaqian covered her face expressionlessly, Ning Ning and He Zhizhou exchanged a look of utter despair, and the entire hall collectively lost the will to live.

Zheng Weiqi’s smile was brittle, her soul halfway gone.
“Haha, Qin Chuan… what are you even saying? Kids say the funniest things, right? Just nonsense, haha… Come now, drink your tea, drink your tea…”

Unfortunately, the man in question—Zhenxiao—was not amused. His expression was darker than storm clouds as he slowly stood, each step brimming with icy pressure.
“No—go on. Why would Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao ‘poke’ female disciples with a long dragon, hmm?”

Qin Chuan scratched his head, utterly innocent.
“That, I don’t know…”

Qin Chuan, oblivious to the thunderclouds gathering around him, frowned slightly in distress.
“I don’t really get all that lovey-dovey stuff in books,” he muttered honestly.
“But Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao is super strong! One of the books I read said stuff like, ‘He drives the long dragon, nine shallow one deep,’ and ‘dual elements of ice and fire, leaving the female disciples gasping for breath!’ It sounds like some seriously powerful sword technique!”

He paused, then added with hesitation, “It’s just… the female disciples who practice swordplay with him always end up so pitiful. They get pierced clean through by the long dragon, end up all limp and begging him to stop—but he never does. Is that just how sword cultivators are? So… merciless during training?”

PFT—!

Tian Xianzi finally couldn’t take it anymore. The corner of his mouth twitched violently upward in an uncontrollable arc, as if possessed by madness.

Zhenxiao, expression frostier than an arctic glacier, narrowed his eyes. He seemed to have caught on.
“Oh? And what else do you know… about Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao?”
His voice was laced with an eerie calm.
“You admire him that much?”

Qin Chuan grinned with genuine innocence, baring a mouthful of big, honest teeth.
“Of course! I’ve read a ton of books about him—I know everything! I even know his catchphrase!”

…Catchphrase.

Zheng Weiqi’s expression utterly collapsed, her face crumpling like an overworked dumpling skin—wrinkled, pale, and full of despair.

No— her soul screamed. No, Qin Chuan, please—

Even years later, Qin Chuan would never forget the atmosphere in the city lord’s audience hall that day.

The elders of the Xuanxu Sword Sect were all frozen mid-breath, caught between shock and speechlessness. Their young disciples had long since covered their eyes and ears, unwilling to see or hear. The air was so heavy with dread it felt like a funeral was in progress.

And in the eye of this hurricane, the broad-shouldered middle-aged man—Qin Chuan himself—opened his mouth wide and, imitating the cold and seductive tone of a villainous male lead from one of his beloved romance novels, declared with fervor.

“Now I’ll show you… whether I’m a real man! Ugh… HOO-AH!”

That final, inexplicable growl was his masterpiece—his soul’s essence.

He could still remember clearly: every time the sword technique ended in the book, it always concluded with that deep, primal roar from Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao. It was domineering, passionate, dripping with masculinity.

It was the call of the heart.
A selfless offering of love.

Silence engulfed the room like a shroud.

Then, somewhere in the crowd, someone snorted.

Qin Chuan, still oblivious to the increasingly pitch-black expressions around him, added helpfully:
“If you’re curious about the rest, you can borrow the books from Big Sister Zheng. She’s super generous!”

Red Alert—Zheng Weiqi, you are in mortal danger.

Zhenxiao’s expression remained impassive. With a flick of his finger, Zheng Weiqi’s storage pouch flew straight into his hand. He gave it the lightest shake—

Thud.
A few goose-yellow booklets tumbled out onto the floor.

Titles read like weapons aimed straight at the soul:

• • Bloodthirsty Passion: Elder Tian Xian’s Wild Pet

• • Adorable Baby Incoming: Sect Master Too Hard to Handle

• • I Betrayed the Buddha and You Too: My Mother’s Forbidden Romance with Master Mingkong

Each one more eye-searing than the last. Every cover a direct assault on the viewer’s worldview.

But the true horror was the final book.

Zhenxiao, face blank as a stone tablet, picked it up.

Emblazoned boldly across the cover:

“After Being Proposed to by Both Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao and Elder Tian Xian”

Below that, a cheerful blurb was printed—

He—bloodthirsty and ruthless, stunningly peerless—cornered her against the wall with a smirk.
“Woman, I don’t mind playing a forbidden game with you.”

He—free-spirited and devilishly handsome—gripped her hand with red eyes and whispered,
“Among the vast waters of the world, I choose only one ladleful—you.”

When she met Him… and Him, she was destined to drown in a whirlpool of love with no escape.

Worldly dust fades, tears have already dried—who became whose tribulation, and who was whose fate?
She smiled faintly and said—
“Only children make choices. Me? I want the Brother Combo Meal.”

———

The “Brother Combo Meal.” Seriously?

Zhenxiao: “Heh.”

This man rarely laughed. And yet now, that single chuckle sliced through the air with crystalline clarity—sharp and bone-chilling, like the sudden crack of thunder on a clear day.

In webnovel terms, it could only be described as: 60% cold-blooded, 30% mocking, and 10% simmering bloodlust on the verge of detonation.

To put it simply—he laughed like he was about to murder someone. Dismemberment style.

Zheng Weiqi knew immediately—this was bad. Very, very bad. She hurried to salvage the situation, intending to plead:
“Shishu, let me explain—”

But in her panic, what came out was:
“Shishu, let me lie my way out of this!”

…If there was a competition for digging your own grave, she’d already be in the Hall of Fame.

Her words dropped like a stone into a still pond. Silence descended, so thick and awkward it felt like even breathing would be disrespectful.

——As the saying goes, it’s not the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.
Zheng Weiqi didn’t just bring a straw—she brought an elephant and dropped it right on top.

RIP.

He Zhizhou paused for a long, heavy moment before leaning over and whispering, grief-stricken.
“Senior Sister… remember to keep smiling. That way, your ghost won’t be so full of resentment.”

Ning Ning was nearly in tears, clutching her face.
“Don’t worry, Senior Sister. We’re all from the same sect—we’ll take care of you.”

Now that’s loyalty! Zheng Weiqi turned, hopeful. Maybe there was still a way out?

Only to hear Ning Ning softly murmur, “You want gold ingots or paper money? Don’t be shy—it’s the last time we’ll be giving you anything anyway.”

…You backstabbing teammates, shut up already!!

Tian Xianzi tried to hold back a laugh and sighed deeply,
“Senior Brother…”

Zheng Weiqi, proving she truly was his longest-standing personal disciple, blacked out for a second and reflexively blurted out the next line, “Just… don’t beat the kid to death. Leave her a sliver of life.”

…

Meanwhile, chaos reigned in the guest hall, but the medical clinic remained a haven of calm.

Across the awakening city of Jialan, many slumbering demon clans had just stirred. Physicians and apprentices hurried from house to house, leaving only one figure resting quietly in the ward.

Pei Ji.

His daily routine typically involved reading or sword practice—his hobbies were few, and his interests even fewer.

Now with nothing to do, he glanced around the modest clinic before his eyes finally landed on a certain book left behind by Ning Ning—

《My 365 Days with Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao》.

He’d heard them mention it earlier.

Pei Ji had been completely baffled by the way they described it—strange lines, characters that bore no resemblance to the real Sword Sovereign Zhenxiao, and as for those “sword techniques” the book described… Right, he still needed to consult his Master later, and per their agreement, he was due for a sparring session with Senior Sister.

At the thought of Ning Ning, Pei Ji’s heart—originally quiet and composed—was suddenly overcome by an odd restlessness.
It was like an invisible spark had ignited in his chest, smoldering without restraint, searing his heart with a soft but persistent heat.

He didn’t understand the feeling.
Brows drawn in a frown, he said nothing.

With nothing else to do—and still deeply curious about this so-called “Wind and Rain Sword Technique”—he popped a fruit-flavored candy into his mouth, winced through the pain, and got up, intending to grab the book from the wooden table nearby.

“Stop! Stop stop stop! Don’t go over there!”

For some reason, the usually calm and collected Cheng Ying suddenly screeched like a banshee.
Realizing it had overreacted, it cleared its throat with a very forced cough and laughed awkwardly:
“Ahem. I mean, your wounds haven’t fully healed yet, right? You shouldn’t move around too much! That book’ll still be there later—why rush—HEY! PEI JI, YOU LITTLE BRAT! Why don’t you ever listen?!”

Pei Ji ignored it completely.

He walked straight to the wooden table, picked up the book, and returned to sit on the bed with zero hesitation.

Cheng Ying went dead silent. Like a chicken. A guilty one.

Then, without warning, it spoke again—its voice like a dying fish flopping on the dock, making a last-ditch attempt to struggle for life.
“It’s just a normal romance book for girls, okay? What’s there to see? Don’t tell me you’re actually into those messy love-hate dramas between the elders? Come on, don’t waste your time—it’s seriously not worth it.”

Pei Ji had always been quietly rebellious.
The more Cheng Ying told him not to look, the more he had to see what the fuss was about.

His long, pale fingers landed on the cold paper.
He gently flipped to the first page.

Long lashes lowered like curtains, casting a soft shadow across his porcelain-pale face.

Pei Ji’s expression remained neutral as he began to read—but the longer he stared at the words, the darker his gaze became.

…Something was definitely wrong with this book.

A strange thought began to quietly take root in his heart.
Pei Ji, who had never understood these kinds of worldly secrets, braced himself and kept reading.

…Only to find that the plot got even weirder.

[The secluded valley parted gently, and a fragrant stream gurgled through, like falling blossoms in a crystal spring, as tender birds chirped sweetly in the distance.
Zhen Xiao suddenly paused, lips curling into a faint smile. “Beg me, and I’ll give it to you.”
Her eyes welled up in fury. “Shizun… even if you possess my body, you’ll never have my heart!”]

“What does that even mean— ‘possess my body but never my heart’?” Pei Ji’s brows furrowed hard.

Cheng Ying’s voice floated awkwardly in the air, chuckling weakly.
“Yeah, well… cough… the female lead got treated like a sparring tool by Zhen Xiao Sword Venerable. He kept making her ‘practice sword techniques’ in the valley—nonstop. But she didn’t want to spend her life being his sparring partner. She had bigger dreams, okay?”

Pei Ji said nothing, eyes scanning further down the page.

The candy in his mouth crunched, the sweetness bursting with a hint of sour orange.

He had been sheltered, focused on sword cultivation since youth. Though he’d heard whispers of “man and woman matters,” he never truly understood what they entailed.
Which meant the later chapters in the book appeared to him like this:

[Zhen Xiao lowered his head and mouth-mouth’d her lips. Mouth-mouth surged forward, setting off a wave of mouth-mouth. In that moment, lightning mouth-mouth’d and both of them mouth-mouth-mouth-mouth.]
And then: [Zhen Xiao mouth-mouth-mouth-mouth-mouth. She mouth-mouth, mouth-mouth-mouth-mouth to the ninth heaven.]

Even Cheng Ying, the usually shameless spirit, could no longer spin this mess into a defense.

“Author, what the hell—why write something this explicit?! Don’t you know you’re corrupting innocent children?!”

Pei Ji: …

Even someone as inexperienced and naïve as him, someone who still had eggshells behind the ears, could now tell exactly what kind of book this was.

Which explained a lot.
Why, for instance, Cheng Ying had gone unusually quiet when Pei Ji, with a straight face and full sincerity, repeated that infamous line about sparring sword techniques.

Why Ning Ning, who had been reading this very book the night before, blushed furiously the moment he woke up.

“Ha… ha…”

Cheng Ying let out two soul-crushing, despair-laden laughs.
“Don’t read anymore, Pei Xiao Ji… please, just listen to me this once.”

But Pei Ji couldn’t hear it.
His mind had gone completely blank, stunned into a daze.

So that’s what the book was actually about…
And the “Wind and Rain Sword Technique” Ning Ning and the others mentioned last night? Clearly, just some nonsense made up to mess with the clueless Qin Chuan.

And he—he! —had earnestly promised to learn it well and “spar together again someday.”

…What the hell had he even said?

Wait. What did Ning Ning say in reply?

Ah, right.

“If fate allows… we shall spar again.”

A flush crept from the tips of his ears all the way to his cheeks.
The always-cold-faced young man was completely speechless, heart pounding wildly, breath caught in a tangle of chaos.

His bandaged fingers gripped the book tightly, white gauze faintly stained with fresh red seeping through.
From somewhere came Cheng Ying’s voice, soft and awkward:
“Don’t take it so hard… uh, well… Ning Ning understands this stuff already. You’re still young, that’s all.”

But they were clearly about the same age.

Pei Ji gritted his teeth, the panic and embarrassment in his eyes quickly giving way to a dark, sullen intensity.
He said in a low voice,
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Cheng Ying’s reply was a masterclass in evasion.
Its voice floated higher and higher, deliberately off-topic.
“Ahaha… nice weather today, don’t you think? The wind is especially lively. Are you tired? I’m a little tired.”

Then, silence. Complete and utter dead silence.
The spirit-sword had fled into full-on death retreat.

Pei Ji sat there, mind a storm of frustration and confusion, when suddenly he heard a voice from outside the door—a man’s voice, unfamiliar and teasing:
“Miss Ning Ning, here to visit your little junior again?”

Then came Ning Ning’s long, drawn-out:
“Shhh—!”

She must have realized he could probably hear, because she added,
“I was just passing by. Thought I’d take a quick look in.”

Her footsteps grew closer and closer, each one like a death knell pounding against his soul.
Pei Ji’s lips pressed into a tight line as he hastily stuffed “365 Days with Sword Venerable Zhen Xiao” under his blanket.

He looked up—and there she was.

Ning Ning.

Given the severity of his injuries, he ought to be lying down and resting.
So when she saw him sitting upright on the bed, she looked surprised.

“Why are you sitting up like that? You’re going to reopen your wounds.”

She paused, then pulled out a small, pale blue porcelain bottle from her storage pouch.

“Master and the others have arrived. After they finish discussing matters with the Young City Lord about the demon realm, they’ll come visit you. Here—this is the Sect Master’s Condensed Immortal Dew. It’s good for healing and restoring spiritual energy.”

Pei Ji kept his gaze lowered, refusing to look at her.
But when he reached out to take the bottle, he realized she hadn’t let go.

Their fingers met—one above, one below—so close they almost touched.
A gentle warmth seemed to radiate from her skin, brushing faintly against his cold fingers.

His ears were still red.
He slowly lifted his eyes, black as obsidian.

And saw her—leaning closer, gazing intently at his face flushed like the evening glow.

“Your face is really red,” Ning Ning said softly, brow slightly furrowed. “Are you… running a fever?”

She was beautiful.

Unlike many female cultivators in the sect who radiated that aloof, untouchable fairy-like aura, Ning Ning had none of that.
No one would mistake her for some immortal descended from the heavens.

Her beauty was grounded—alive with warmth and vitality.
Her round apricot eyes shimmered like autumn water, always glowing with a hint of mischief.
When she smiled, two tiny dimples would bloom on her porcelain cheeks.

Like a soft, drifting cloud—close enough to touch, yet still floating just out of reach.

And at this moment, she was staring at him without blinking.

Before Pei Ji could say a word, a small, warm hand pressed gently against his forehead.

Startled by the heat, Ning Ning’s eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re burning up. Why do you have a fever?”

Pei Ji choked on air.

It wasn’t like that at all.

She didn’t know anything.

“I’ll go call the doctor—did you kick off your blanket in your sleep or something? You’re not a kid anymore, yet still—”

Ning Ning suddenly paused mid-sentence.
Her gaze froze for a moment, as though a certain long-forgotten detail had just resurfaced in her mind.

She turned her head stiffly toward the table.

Empty.

Not a trace of “365 Days with Sword Venerable Zhen Xiao” in sight.

Ning Ning’s breath hitched.
No way. No way, no way, no way…

That book—
Could it be that Pei Ji had picked it up?

“I, um… I left a book here earlier—”

Her voice was noticeably softer, cautious and testing.
“Do you… know where it went?”

Pei Ji didn’t answer right away.

Expression frozen, he turned his face firmly toward the wall, refusing to look at her.
He was trying—desperately—to wait until the heat on his face faded.

But the moment he thought of that book, the burning flared even hotter.

After a long pause, he finally rasped,
“…The medical hall gets a lot of foot traffic. Someone probably took it.”

Even though the idea of a stranger taking that unnameable little book was horrifying and social-death-inducing, Ning Ning secretly let out a breath of relief.

Thank heavens! Long live the heavens! Ten thousand years!
As long as Pei Ji didn’t take the book—everything was still salvageable!

She truly couldn’t imagine what would happen if that fragile little eggshell of a boy did read it.
That line she tossed out the other night—“Let’s have a friendly spar if fate allows”—was just to smooth over an awkward moment, but from his perspective, it probably sounded vaguely flirtatious.

She opened her mouth to say something more…
But before she could, the boy who had been half-sitting upright in bed suddenly laid down flat—
And pulled the blanket all the way over himself.

Pei Ji’s face was still flushed.
And because his skin was naturally pale—cold as carved jade—that red stood out even more vividly, impossible to hide.

The moment he sensed Ning Ning’s gaze lingering on him, the tips of his ears heated up again.

Without a word, he tugged the blanket even higher—
Until it covered his entire head.

“No need to trouble yourself, Senior Sister.”

His voice was muffled through the covers, stiff and blunt.
But somehow, it carried a tiny hint of… awkward cuteness?

“It’s just a minor illness. I can handle it on my own. You’re free to go do other things—you don’t have to concern yourself.”

Such an ungrateful little wolf cub.

She’d gone out of her way to buy him candy, even stopped by the clinic regularly to check on him—
And now he was kicking her out without hesitation.

Ning Ning pouted and glanced at the neat little stack of candy wrappers at his bedside.

Casually, she asked, “Did you eat them all? How were they? Did you like the taste?”

The lump under the blanket didn’t move.
Pei Ji was silent for a long moment.

Then, in a voice that sounded both awkward and begrudging, he answered softly:

“…Yes. I liked them.”