The heat on her face suddenly dissipated completely and became ice-cold again. Fucang was somewhat puzzled. He lifted her chin, and their eyes met.

Her eyes held everything—first immense fear, but it quickly transformed into a kind of helplessness. That layer of profound helplessness then instantly turned into a trace of cold sorrow. Tenderness as fine as spring rain overflowed in wisps and strands from that sorrow, ultimately condensing into fragile dependence.

A thousand flavors, ten thousand kinds of tender affection—he had never seen such an expression before.

She didn’t speak. She seemed somewhat hesitant. From slow to fast, she raised both arms to embrace him, suddenly burying her face in his chest.

Once again she could smell the clean scent on his body, like the wind of the divine realm.

Xuan Yi closed her eyes tightly.

The one who should be saying “don’t leave me” ought to be her. Even if she had a thousand or ten thousand reasons why she would never let herself say it aloud, even if she could be cruel enough to not even think about it, she couldn’t prevent it from overwhelming her at unexpected moments.

She had never feared others’ rejection and dislike. Things like affection were too illusory, as elusive as clouds and mist, while dislike was a solid, tangible bond-like existence. But among so many who disliked her, only he liked her this much, holding her in the palm of his hand. So she always recklessly entangled with him, bringing everything to such a state.

Fucang stroked her head over and over like petting a cat, then suddenly asked: “What’s your name?”

Xuan Yi—didn’t he say it in his sleep talk that day?

She still smiled: “I don’t have a name.”

He didn’t doubt her, only saying gently: “Then what should I call you? Little female ghost?”

“That’s fine.” She was extremely docile.

Fucang’s heart was filled with love for her. He lowered his head and planted another kiss on her forehead, then embraced her around the waist. Her body was as light as a feather—she could be held any way at all. He really wanted to hold her in his palm, keep her in his embrace, take her everywhere.

Xuan Yi hugged his neck and looked down at his passionate eyes. Suddenly she leaned down and bumped her forehead against his, rubbing twice, not knowing if she was acting coquettish or playing tricks. She gently blew a breath of air toward his face. In the past when they quarreled, she always used this move against him, and it worked every time—each time this brute would be so angered by her that his face would immediately turn cold.

What about now?

Who would have thought this youth’s face was as thin as paper? His jade-like face was instantly dyed red. With one hand pressing the back of her head to hold it against his shoulder, he gently scolded her with warmth: “Mischievous.”

Fucang held her with one hand and pushed open the room door. Outside, the sunlight was brilliant, not a cloud for thousands of miles—truly rare fine weather. His spirits were high, and having just experienced deep affection for the first time, he didn’t want to stay in the room.

“I’ll take you to an interesting place.” He smiled at her and strode toward the outside of the Green Emperor Temple.

The carriage in front of the Green Emperor Temple was specially prepared for the Seventh Prince’s travels. Every day without fail, rain or shine, it arrived at the hour of mao. Even during these days when he was bedridden with illness, the coachman and guards dared not slack off. Today, seeing him walk out with steady steps and looking refreshed, they hurriedly bowed in salute.

“Circle around the city once, then leave the city and follow my directions.”

After Fucang spoke, he boarded the carriage and had just sat down when something cool, sweet, and sour was suddenly stuffed into his mouth. He had never liked sweet and sour flavors, so he immediately frowned slightly, but then saw this little female ghost holding a bag of candied plums in her hand, smiling at him.

“Is it good?” she asked, full of anticipation. This was one of her favorite snacks. When Qi Nan handed Fucang’s outer robe to the Chief Spirit Official, he had him bring down a bag as well.

Fucang chewed on the plum flesh and was silent for a moment before nodding. Seeing she was about to offer him half the bag, he quickly stopped her: “…Look over there, an inn.”

He placed her on his lap and lifted the curtain to look outside, but who knew the building opposite was actually a brothel. He raised his hand wanting to cover this little female ghost’s mouth, but he was still too late. She immediately asked: “What’s that?”

Fucang thought for a moment: “That’s a place that sells flowers.”

He held her tightly, afraid she would transform into a wild wind and fly off to snatch back two flowers. Fortunately, her gaze was attracted by street performers. That poor monkey was both doing somersaults and handstands, all for two bites of food. Xuan Yi blew out a breath. A basket of peaches from a fruit vendor nearby was blown over, and the peaches inside rolled all over the ground. The monkey picked them up and devoured them frantically.

“Interesting.”

She turned her head and smiled. The cool, soft breath gently blew on his face again. Fucang couldn’t help lowering his head to kiss her eyelids. The delicate skin his lips touched began to burn again. Though she often made intimate gestures, she was so easily embarrassed. He felt intoxicated and enchanted, kissing down along her cheek, finally landing on her soft lips with some tentative exploration.

For some reason, he actually wanted to bite her—as if from love taken to the extreme arose a faint trace of resentment. He opened his mouth and gently bit her lip, then nibbled and kissed along the shape of her beautiful lips bit by bit. Her rapid and somewhat panicked breathing sprayed on his face, carrying a cold fragrance that made his arms involuntarily tighten around her even more.

She let out a soft moan from her nose. Fucang immediately loosened his grip and said softly: “Did I hurt you?”

Xuan Yi buried her head in his chest again and slowly shook her head. He removed the golden ring that had gone askew in her hair, inserted his fingers into her hair, and slowly combed through it. His fingertips touching her neck were still burning, so he slowly brushed her long hair to one side, revealing a section of her slender neck like jade porcelain.

He bent down and planted another gentle kiss there. She quickly shrank her head to dodge, suddenly feeling him press her toward the carriage wall. These hands had once almost been able to crush her shoulder bones, yet now their strength was so weak—but it was as if she still couldn’t escape. Her wrists were pressed down by him, one hand on each, their fingers interlaced. His voice carried a trace of hoarseness: “Once more.”

Once more.

Xuan Yi no longer dodged. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes slightly, yielding gracefully. Lips rubbed together, gradually transforming into mutual devouring. Their inexperienced tongue tips entangled with each other. He seemed to slowly know how to kiss, lightly teasing and slowly stirring her tongue, entwining and not letting go. Another soft moan came from her nose. Fucang couldn’t help but slip his fingertips into her collar, exploring and teasing along her collarbone as if touching a flower petal.

She struggled slightly, and he moved away from her a bit, but his fingertips were still reluctant to withdraw. They gently circled around her collarbone, then caressed all the way to her chin as if tickling. It tickled so much she moved and laughed chaotically, hurriedly pulling his hand down. Her crimson fingernails scratched at his fingers, then rubbed his nails, and finally traced delicately along the lines in his palm.

Fucang held her hand in his palm to examine it closely. Ten slender fingers, nail polish like fire. He brought it to his lips to bite. She cried “Aiya” and tried to withdraw her hand, but how could he let go? He kissed lightly along her palm, pushed her sleeve to her elbow, revealing an arm like beautiful jade. He opened his mouth and bit again, this time with some force, biting, kissing, and sucking, leaving a mark on it.

Xuan Yi giggled, her voice charming: “You like biting people so much—do you want to eat a female ghost?”

Yes, he really wanted to devour her.

Fucang hooked her waist, as slender as a willow, making her press tightly against him. He quietly held her, his chest pressed against her ear, his heartbeat inside like a drum. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the top of her head. The bones heavy from illness instantly became countless times lighter.

The carriage left the city and proceeded steadily along a narrow and winding mountain road. The wind blew up the curtain. Xuan Yi looked at the overflowing greenery outside and asked lazily: “Where is this?”

Fucang said: “There’s nothing special about this mountain—it’s just a low mountain outside the city. What’s special is the tree at the mountaintop.”

Xuan Yi pricked up her ears and waited for a long time without hearing him say more, so she hurriedly asked: “What’s special about that tree?”

The carriage suddenly stopped. Fucang swept her up in his arms and jumped down from the carriage, smiling faintly: “You’ll know when you see it.”

The mountain wind leisurely met their faces. It was near early autumn in the mortal world. The mountain was covered with pale yellow and old green. The mountaintop was especially lush with greenery. Near the cliff edge stood a giant tree with branches extending across. Each leaf was more than a foot in diameter, with bright red veins covering the emerald green leaves—very peculiar.

This was actually an Emperor’s Daughter Mulberry from the divine realm.