When the little black sphere activated, it split open from the middle with a jagged, serrated gap that looked like a grinning mouth.

But after Xiang Haikui remarked that the little black sphere was “no longer appealing,” its serrated “teeth” trembled slightly.

It was frightened.

It had misunderstood.

Thinking that Xiang Haikui had always intended to devour it.

Yin Changli didn’t quite understand either. Seeing her glance in the direction where Qu Yue and her companion had disappeared, he suddenly realized what she meant, but still asked in confusion: “What? You like his ornately carved coffin?”

That couldn’t be possible, could it?

Xiang Haikui’s personality might be a bit rough around the edges, but her aesthetic sense was impeccable.

No, one could say she had extremely refined taste.

From the beginning of their acquaintance, she’d always liked to copy his hairstyle—that’s how he knew.

“Hmm? Am I envious of his coffin?” Xiang Haikui questioned Yin Changli’s emotional intelligence for the first time.

Having just returned to her homeland without a phone, otherwise she would have indulged in posting a few melodramatic social media updates.

—”In the end, I was defeated by the details.”

—”In the end, I shouldered everything alone.”

Xiang Haikui patted the Tian Kuang sword case on her back and raised those two meticulously drawn eyebrows on her peach-blossom face: “Don’t you get it?”

Jiu Huang’s coffin-shaped flying treasure was like her ever-present sword case.

His wife, Qu Yue, was essentially his soul sword, hidden within the coffin.

Setting that aside, how romantic to be constantly carried on the back of one’s beloved!

Yin Changli was baffled for a moment, then suddenly understood.

He thought seriously for a moment, then nodded: “I’d have no problem with it, but could you, like Miss Qu, stay quietly in a confined space for more than three hours?”

He’d bet that within a single hour, she would feel suffocated and blast the coffin lid open with her sword.

It wasn’t that his emotional intelligence was low or that he didn’t pay attention to details.

It was that he had grown accustomed to not paying attention to certain things.

Let’s count them:

Their “token of love”: a kitchen cleaver that once chopped him in half.

Their most frequent “physical activity” together: he transforming into a snake, she into a hornless dragon, drilling through mountains to mine ores.

Yin Changli had racked his brains and exerted himself to grow closer to her.

Yet no matter how romantic the scene or intimate the atmosphere, with one moment of carelessness, due to external or internal factors stimulating some nerve of hers, lovers could become brothers in an instant.

Xiang Haikui: …

She couldn’t refute it.

Fine, it was her fault they couldn’t be romantic.

Sulking, Xiang Haikui crawled into the little black sphere and sat behind the table.

Her well-defined fingers rested on the sword case, her fingernails tapping rhythmically.

Almost hypnotically, she sank into thought, inexplicably feeling a sense of crisis.

Her personality wasn’t suited for romance.

Even as an ordinary person, she had that tendency, though back then, at least she had some girlish sentiments, swooning over Senior Jing Ran.

After being kidnapped by Tian Kuang, everything changed completely.

Moreover, he was of the gentle, refined school of “like dew meeting autumn chrysanthemums.”

While she belonged to the bold, uninhibited school of “drinking wine from skull cups.”

They were essentially incompatible.

Before, when he pursued her unsuccessfully, he found everything about her appealing.

Now that he had won her over and life was becoming routine, according to all those love stories she’d read, her flaws would gradually magnify in his eyes.

Xiang Haikui reflected that she should be a spicy little pepper in public, but transform into a soft, sweet cake in front of him.

But that would be far too difficult.

Perhaps she should keep him at arm’s length, give him a sense of crisis?

Yin Changli controlled the little black sphere with his consciousness, locked onto Qu Yue and her companion’s trail, and pursued them.

Though he seemed to be complaining about her, he felt somewhat pleased.

At least when she saw others displaying affection, she felt envious, became dissatisfied with him, and wanted to make demands of him.

The more she demanded of him, the more it showed she valued him.

He understood this principle.

Yin Changli poured tea from the kettle while smiling at her profile.

Suddenly, she also turned her head, their gazes colliding in midair.

It was just a glance, yet it created ripples across the lake of his heart.

Previously, Yin Changli had believed that the human heart was the most poisonous weapon, killing without bloodshed, impossible to defend against.

Now he gradually understood that love was the sharpest blade.

Under its edge, nothing survived, leaving only scorched earth.

Making one willingly surrender arms and armor, happily bowing in submission.

Momentarily overwhelmed by emotion, Yin Changli, still holding the kettle, leaned slightly toward her, preparing to kiss her when she abruptly rose and sat opposite him.

Yin Changli froze mid-movement, only turning his head after a long pause to ask: “What’s wrong?”

She seemed angry.

“Was it something I said earlier that upset you?”

“Oh, no.” Xiang Haikui shook her head. “I’m being distant with you.”

Yin Changli:?

He couldn’t understand this new turn of events at all.

Xiang Haikui sat up straight, snatched the kettle from his hand, and poured herself tea with affected formality: “I was thinking we need to talk.”

“About what?” Yin Changli gave up trying to guess her thoughts and became a silent listener.

“I’ve been thinking seriously about that saying—it’s easier to conquer a kingdom than to keep it, easier to share hardships than to share prosperity.” Xiang Haikui said.

“Mm.” Yin Changli nodded in agreement.

“So, we need to figure out the most suitable way for us to get along…”

Xiang Haikui paused, realizing this sounded like a married couple discussing their future life together.

The two of them should still be in the dating phase, right?

No, this won’t do.

Xiang Haikui waved her hand in frustration: “Never mind, let’s not talk about this.”

But Yin Changli seemed to grasp her meaning and saw this as a good opportunity, encouraging her to continue: “What would you like to talk about then?”

Xiang Haikui had originally intended to drop the subject, but prompted by his question, she continued: “About dating, of course.”

This was exactly what Yin Changli had been waiting for. He rose, circled the table, and in one smooth motion swept her up by the backs of her knees, carrying her horizontally.

Xiang Haikui kicked her legs slightly, careful not to use too much force for fear of hurting him, and exclaimed: “What are you doing?”

Yin Changli smiled: “Didn’t you say we should talk about dating? I’m taking you to the bed to discuss it.”

Xiang Haikui cried out: “Does talking about dating have to happen in bed?”

Yin Changli shook his head, raising an eyebrow at her: “Not necessarily, but I’m rather stupid—I don’t know how to discuss dating any other way. I only know how to discuss it in bed.”

“Fine then!”

Xiang Haikui thought he was teasing her, joking around. From every angle, he seemed the ascetic type who shouldn’t have much interest in bedroom activities.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so traumatized by their dual cultivation experience.

During their time living together, it was Xiang Haikui who struggled more.

Though she could now control Tian Kuang’s evil nature, dragons were naturally lustful. Every time she saw him changing clothes without reservation in front of her, she felt an unbearable itch, like a traveler dying of thirst in the desert who spots water, wanting to pounce on him and drain him dry.

Yet she would always remember how, after their dual cultivation night, he had looked at her as if he’d been defiled, wearing an expression of utter humiliation.

No matter how fiercely her evil fire burned, it would gradually dissipate.

To her surprise, Yin Changli actually carried her past the screen and placed her on a small couch, then leaned down over her.

He played with her hair and whispered in her ear: “I’m being serious, Xiao Kui. May I?”

Looking into those pitch-black eyes, Xiang Haikui’s throat constricted.

She finally realized he wasn’t lying—he was serious, not just playing around.

Great, so much for keeping him at arm’s length.

They’d gotten even closer.

After getting what he wanted, wouldn’t he value her even less?

But then again, it wouldn’t be their first time, so it shouldn’t matter, right?

These thoughts tumbled chaotically through her mind.

His heart was pounding heavily—thump, thump—and hers seemed to resonate with it, beating in sync.

In an instant, all she could hear was the sound of their heartbeats, growing increasingly erratic, making her flush crimson.

“Vulgar! Obscene!” Just as Xiang Haikui was about to yield, the memory of his disgusted expression after their dual cultivation night suddenly resurfaced, impossible to dispel.

She didn’t want to remember, but couldn’t help it—there was a thorn lodged in her heart that couldn’t be removed.

So she straightened her back, forcefully bumped her forehead against his, broke free, jumped to the floor, and ran far away.

Originally, the sword case should have flown after her, but dissatisfied with her cowardice, it played dead and didn’t move.

Xiang Haikui had no choice but to scurry back, grab her sword, and flee again.

Yin Changli was disappointed. He knew the reason but didn’t know what to do about it.

However, seeing her blushing furiously, all flustered and cursing under her breath, he couldn’t help laughing heartily: “Xiao Kui, I find you quite interesting. You can be bold about everything except in bed, where you can’t be bold at all.”

Hearing him laughing and mocking her from behind, Xiang Haikui grew nervous and tripped, nearly experiencing one of those classic romance novel falls on flat ground.

After stumbling but regaining her balance, she gritted her teeth, wanting to turn back to prove herself, to pounce on him and see who couldn’t be bold.

With his current waist strength, did he think she didn’t know?

Even if he temporarily gained the upper hand, in the end, he would still have to beg her.

Xiang Haikui thought about it and found the scene quite amusing.

Besides, the best way to erase the impression he’d left in her mind before was to create a new one.

Dual cultivation wasn’t such a big deal, was it?

It might even help him recover his cultivation sooner—what was there to object to?

After hesitating for a long time, she still didn’t move. The journey to Jiangbei was short, and they had important matters to attend to. They could deal with this after finishing their official business.

So Xiang Haikui only turned back to fiercely curse: “Shameless old lecher!”

And quickly escaped.

Xiang Haikui fled to the entrance of the little black sphere amid Yin Changli’s laughter, patting her burning face.

She had originally wanted to calm herself down, but he had no intention of letting her off, following her and teasing: “Xiao Kui, if you really like Jiu Huang’s coffin…”

“No,” Xiang Haikui didn’t like it anymore. “You’re right.”

Such a confined space—she really couldn’t stand it.

After the novelty wore off, only stifling oppression would remain.

Thinking carefully, the little black sphere was more appealing—spacious, fully equipped, and even while traveling, they could engage in passionate…

What was she thinking??

Just as she began to calm down, blood rushed to her head again.

This wasn’t her true thoughts—Tian Kuang was tempting her.

The blood surging to her head boiled like water at full heat; her scalp was practically steaming.

Yin Changli saw her condition but dared not laugh. If he did, her internal pressure would certainly explode.

Her desire for him wasn’t something to be happy about—it was influenced by the dragon demon blood.

He’d rather have her showing her small temper, throwing tantrums, rolling her eyes at him—that would please him more.

Just now, he didn’t want to dual cultivate with her; he was merely seizing the opportunity to get closer to her.

Xiang Haikui was a woman who liked to take the initiative in everything, preferring confrontation.

Only in matters of emotion was she extremely passive, prone to avoidance.

This applies to all emotions.

After stealing the formation disk, she never saw Xiang Heng again, only sending him letters regularly.

Yin Changli himself had a naturally free-spirited personality, typically going with the flow.

But with Xiang Haikui, he didn’t dare leave everything to fate and time.

He was constantly making active efforts, working harder than he ever had in his youth during cultivation.

Xiang Haikui patted the inner wall, grateful that the fake dragons coiled around the pillars in the hall were constantly exhaling spiritual mist, creating a fog that concealed the steam rising from her head. Otherwise, if he mocked her again, she’d truly lose face.

Through the gaps between the little black sphere’s teeth, she began to peek at the outside world.

Pretending to observe intently, though at the little black sphere’s flying speed, external scenery was reduced to mere streaks.

She saw nothing.

The little black sphere was pursuing Jiu Huang ahead, and Yin Changli sensed their speed beginning to slow: “We’re almost there.”

“Is that so?” Xiang Haikui perked up.

Feeling nervous about returning home, she was eager to see how her hometown had changed after twenty years.

Then she reconsidered, only a year had passed. How much could it have changed?

Her enthusiasm waned again.

“Cover your face.”

Xiang Haikui changed into modern clothes—the outfit she wore when first taken to Earth.

He didn’t need to change his attire; now that a Hanfu revival trend was sweeping China, wearing long-sleeved robes in public was no longer unusual.

Like that young man Jiu Huang, he just needed a half-mask to conceal his face, preventing anyone from photographing him and posting it online.

Xiang Haikui’s hometown, Jiangbei City, wasn’t very large. There was no Special Department branch within the city proper, so their flying vessels could only land in the suburbs near the airport.

Before arriving, Qu Yue had already made arrangements for a car to pick them up.

The driver was an ordinary person without spiritual powers. After respectfully addressing Qu Yue as “Daoist Master Qu,” he handed over the keys and left without getting in the car.

Xiang Haikui could tell he was very nervous, never daring to look up at them, even walking with bow legs as he departed.

“Qu…” Xiang Haikui turned toward Qu Yue, her “guide” assigned by Director Qu Song, wanting to ask something but hesitating.

She stumbled over how to address Qu Yue.

According to Earth birthdays, she was only twenty-two, while Qu Yue was around thirty.

In reality, Xiang Haikui had lived for over forty years, making her older than Qu Yue.

Of course, what truly troubled Xiang Haikui wasn’t this—she wasn’t sure whether to call her “Miss Qu” or “Young Lady Qu.”

Having grown accustomed to addressing people as “Young Master” or “Young Lady” in the other world, suddenly switching to “Mr.” or “Miss” felt strange.

It reminded her of when she called her father “Dad” and he didn’t react immediately.

She had only been gone for twenty years, but her father had been gone for two hundred.

Perhaps she had been too harsh on her father.

Qu Yue knew what she wanted to ask and nodded with a smile: “Yes, our Special Department is affiliated with the state. For coordination purposes, many top officials within the system know about cultivators. When they assign subordinates to assist us, they simply tell them we are Daoist masters serving the country…”

Xiang Haikui listened attentively, occasionally nodding: “I understand.”

“Please get in the car.” Among the three, only Qu Yue knew how to drive, so naturally, she sat in the driver’s seat.

Jiu Huang opened the door and sat in the passenger seat.

Xiang Haikui and Yin Changli sat in the back.

Despite Xiang Haikui’s detailed descriptions, Yin Changli still found everything here quite alien, but being widely experienced, he didn’t show much curiosity.

Xiang Haikui, on the other hand, excitedly punched the seat: “I never imagined I’d get to ride in a luxury car in this lifetime.”

She wasn’t knowledgeable about cars and couldn’t recognize the brand, but it was a luxury vehicle.

If she hadn’t found a way back and remained trapped in another world, even becoming the foremost sword cultivator wouldn’t have allowed her to ride in such a car.

Qu Yue’s smile was both standard and sweet: “If Sister Xiang likes it, I can give you one. We have an idle car at home.” She added, “It has a spiritual sense operating system—Sister Xiang won’t need a driver’s license and can drive it directly.”

Xiang Haikui quickly refused: “How could I accept such a gift?”

“Chinese yuan is quite easy for us to earn,” Qu Yue implied that this was just a small sum.

Indeed, it was a small amount—blindly selecting any treasure from the little black sphere could be exchanged among cultivators for vast amounts of Chinese currency.

But Xiang Haikui had read the rules—items she and her “boss” possessed were classified as foreign goods and couldn’t be directly traded, similar to smuggled items.

Foreign goods had to go through auction channels with extremely strict and complicated regulations.

Having joined the Special Department, Xiang Haikui could choose to receive her salary in either spirit beads or Chinese yuan.

In the “employment contract” she had just signed, with its hundreds of clauses, she had ignored everything except carefully noting the salary amount.

She could buy a house after two or three months.

“It seems I’ll have to rely on you to support me for quite a long time,” Yin Changli laughed awkwardly.

Here, everything had rules, and as a person from another world, he faced even more restrictions.

“Bet you never imagined this day would come,” Xiang Haikui couldn’t hide the smugness in her expression.

The tables had turned—now the boss would be working for her.

Qu Yue understood their little dynamic but, as their “guide,” felt obligated to explain: “Senior Yin, actually, as long as you don’t use spiritual powers and earn Chinese yuan as an ordinary person doing ordinary business, the money is completely legal.”

She nodded toward the passenger seat, “Take my husband as an example. Like you, he’s also from another world, a demonic cultivator skilled in mechanical arts. He crafts intricate mechanisms like substitute puppets, mechanical wings, and such…”

Xiang Haikui had already noticed, from the moment they got in the car, that young man Jiu Huang had taken out a small wooden block the size of a walnut and was carving it with a small knife.

The road conditions were terrible, bumpy, and rough, but this had no impact on his carving work.

He remained completely silent, expressionless, cold as ice, treating everything around him as if it were air.

No, that wasn’t quite right—whenever Qu Yue spoke to them, he would pause his work.

After she finished speaking, he would resume carving.

Qu Yue’s eloquent little mouth seemed like the secret switch that initiated his interaction with this world.

“So, he opened a wood carving shop?” Xiang Haikui observed the small wooden block in Jiu Huang’s hands, which was being carved with the precision of some high-tech device component. Such fine woodcraft could surely fetch a good price.

“No,” Qu Yue seemed somewhat embarrassed as she explained, “He prefers funeral items—making coffins, ancestral tablets, cutting burial clothes, and so on. So he opened a shop specializing in funeral supplies…”

Xiang Haikui: …

No wonder she felt a chill every time she looked at this guy.

Qu Yue’s next words conveyed unmistakable pride: “He discovered this niche himself. I never realized the funeral business could be so profitable.”

Xiang Haikui looked at Yin Changli with a hint of regret: “You have skills too, but with your particular talents… You could only work as a miner in a quarry.”

Qu Yue was slightly taken aback—a miner?

That seemed impossible to associate with Yin Changli.

Before Yin Changli, whose eyelids were twitching rapidly, could explain, Xiang Haikui immediately contradicted herself: “No, that won’t work either—mining sites don’t hire snake workers. You do understand fate calculation, so you could set up a stall under a bridge to tell fortunes… but that won’t work either. Your mouth is too sharp; you’d easily offend people. Miss Qu, if he gets beaten up, would he be allowed to fight back?”

Yin Changli, feeling like his face was being peeled off, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Before coming to Earth, she had repeatedly instructed him to watch his words, avoid sarcasm, be kind to others, not act superior, maintain elegance, and not embarrass her.

He had kept these instructions constantly in mind, but she seemed to have forgotten them entirely.

“I’ve got it!” Xiang Haikui had a sudden inspiration. “You can just transform back to your original form and coil up in a zoo for people to admire—not tiring, and meals provided.”

Yin Changli nodded in agreement: “Good idea.”

Qu Yue couldn’t help laughing: “It won’t come to that. With Senior Yin’s wisdom, there are plenty of opportunities.”

Originally, Yin Changli didn’t mind at all living off Xiang Haikui, but he found the idea of exchanging personal skills for Chinese yuan quite interesting.

Qu Yue was right—in any world, wisdom should be the most valuable asset for gaining benefits.

He asked: “Then, are there any suitable businesses for starting from scratch in a short time?”

“Forget it,” Xiang Haikui waved dismissively. “The quickest, most profitable ventures are all listed in the Criminal Code.”

Her comment reminded Qu Yue: “Jiu Huang.”

With just a glance, Jiu Huang understood, putting down his wood and carving knife, and retrieving a thick stack of books from his storage bracelet.

Not just the Criminal Code, but other legal texts as well. He turned halfway and handed them to Yin Changli.

After Yin Changli accepted them, he silently turned his head back and continued his carving.

About to turn onto the highway, Qu Yue rotated the steering wheel while explaining: “Originally, Senior Yin would only need to understand the rules among cultivators here, but if you want to stay long-term and earn Chinese yuan, it’s best to familiarize yourself with mortal laws as well.”

As expected, Yin Changli thanked her and then said to Jiu Huang: “I’ll make a copy before returning these to you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Senior Yin,” Qu Yue interjected quickly, fearing Jiu Huang might ignore him and cause embarrassment. “He already knows these books backwards and forwards—please keep them.”

The phrase “backwards and forwards” rolled around in Yin Changli’s mind.

Jiu Huang lifted his head slightly, glancing at Yin Changli through the rearview mirror.

Yin Changli caught his gaze.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt that Jiu Huang’s indifferent eyes seemed to express a rare friendliness toward him.

This friendliness might have stemmed from a sense of “shared suffering.”

It conveyed a message: being a son-in-law from another world wasn’t easy.

…

Upon entering Jiangbei city limits, Xiang Haikui suddenly remembered: “Aren’t I still a wanted criminal?”

Back then, when Jing Ran was taken away, she was the only one with him and was suspected of murder, becoming a criminal suspect.

Later, she was abducted from the police station by Yin Changli, and another warrant was issued for her arrest.

“The warrant was rescinded long ago,” Qu Yue assured her. There was no need to worry. “But Jing Ran’s disappearance can’t be explained. In principle, Sister Xiang could resume your former identity and continue your studies, but it might cause numerous complications in your daily life.”

Xiang Haikui understood.

As the car entered a parking lot near the police station and they prepared to exit, Qu Yue hesitantly looked back at Yin Changli.

Yin Changli was puzzled: “Does Miss Qu have something to ask?”

“Senior, could you give me a pair of… your shoes?” Qu Yue was extremely embarrassed.

Yin Changli was truly stunned this time.

Xiang Haikui was also startled—what was going on?

She glanced at Jiu Huang, who continued carving his wooden piece as if nothing unusual was happening.

“Do you know about Xi Spirits?” Qu Yue pointed at her neck. “Xi Spirit Phantom Wave.”

Around her neck hung an oval pendant resembling a small vase that seemed to contain water.

Xiang Haikui needed to use her spiritual sense to see a figure clinging to the edge of the pendant.

A stunningly beautiful man with his lower body hidden in the water inside the pendant, his upper body emerging from the surface, resting his chin on his hands while staring at Yin Changli with gleaming eyes.

“A merman?” Xiang Haikui vaguely glimpsed the colorful fish tail concealed underwater.

“Not a merman. Xi Spirits are ethereal beings formed from sea tides,” Yin Changli explained, having also noticed it. “They live in the sea and cannot come ashore unless they wear someone else’s shoes. Wearing whose shoes, they can transform into the appearance of that person.”

“Phantom Wave likes collecting shoes, especially…” Qu Yue forced herself to continue, “especially those of handsome men.”

“May I?” Phantom Wave spoke for himself, cupping his hands pleadingly. “I was slumbering in the water when the dazzling radiance of your incomparable beauty awakened me. Please grant me a pair of your shoes—I’m willing to exchange all my treasures for them…”

Horrifying! Xiang Haikui felt goosebumps all over, especially from Phantom Wave’s blatant stare. Could he be gay?

Having experienced similar scenes many times, Qu Yue assured them: “Don’t misunderstand—Phantom Wave simply loves beauty, truly. His greatest joy in life is transforming into different types of handsome men each day. He has my husband’s shoes, my brother’s, even my father’s… After transforming, he doesn’t cause trouble—he just enjoys changing his appearance.”

Xiang Haikui sighed in relief.

This sea spirit had good taste, and she felt somewhat proud.

Yin Changli didn’t want others transforming into his likeness and politely declined: “But I…”

He wanted to say he only had this one pair of shoes.

Xiang Haikui would certainly contradict him, saying there were thousands of pairs in the little black sphere.

While he was formulating his excuse, Phantom Wave pleaded again: “If you don’t like treasures, I can write poetry for you.”

Very well. Xiang Haikui was new here, and having one more friend was beneficial, but Yin Changli had to maintain a proper stance—he couldn’t appear eager to curry favor. So he smiled slightly: “Then compose your poem, and I’ll consider it.”

“Wonderful!” Phantom Wave began without hesitation—

A snake lacks the legs of a dragon

A dragon lacks your beauty

When you smile, butterflies dance

When you frown, flowers wither

Mountains, rivers, stars, and seas follow you

Even the compass turns north

Yin Changli didn’t know how to react to this “poem.”

Xiang Haikui was astounded by such blatant flattery.

Qu Yue gently scratched her forehead, covering her eyes.

After exiting the car and leaving the parking lot, they walked toward the police station.

“Senior Yin, Phantom Wave isn’t being insincere—his ‘poetry’ really is of this caliber…” Qu Yue, pestered by Phantom Wave, continued advocating for him.

Xiang Haikui discovered that Qu Yue’s eloquence was truly exceptional and couldn’t help glancing back at Jiu Huang.

Even while walking, he kept his head down, carving.

Jiu Huang: “What are you looking at?”

So he could speak after all! Xiang Haikui had thought he was mute: “I’m looking at what you’re carving.”

“None of your business,” he replied impatiently.

Hey! This guy was quite cool. Xiang Haikui pursed her lips and turned away, looking at Qu Yue’s back instead.

This couple was really interesting—one seemingly autistic, reluctant to speak.

The other was smooth and sociable, chatting with everyone.

Jiu Huang suddenly transmitted mentally, his tone cautious: “Why are you staring at my Liu’niang? What are you planning?”

Xiang Haikui took a moment to process that Liu’niang was probably a term of endearment: “I wasn’t! I was just curious about how you two get along with such contrasting personalities. No, I’m not just curious—as you can see, my man and I also have extremely different personalities. I’m quite troubled by it.”

Jiu Huang glanced at Yin Changli: “Personality? Is that important?”

Xiang Haikui sighed deeply: “Of course it is. When personalities are too different, conversation lacks common ground—it’s like a chicken talking to a duck, or playing the zither to a cow…”

Jiu Huang lowered his eyes, thinking for a moment: “He’s a snake demon, right?”

Seeing his serious contemplation, Xiang Haikui thought he had some advice and nodded eagerly: “Yes.”

Jiu Huang asked in puzzlement: “Then shouldn’t it be a human talking to a snake, or playing the zither to a snake? What do chickens, ducks, and cows have to do with it?”

Xiang Haikui:?