In the late winter season, the first snow fell at Mingxing Palace, falling like pulled cotton for three or four days straight before finally clearing this morning. Mingxing Palace was covered in white snow, and when illuminated by sunlight, it was blindingly bright. Xuan Yi stood on her left leg alone, hopping around inside the icy snow-covered hall, busily pulling down thick curtains.

Half a year had passed since she was injured in the lower realm. The wound that Qi Nan had said would take thirty years to heal had already recovered for the most part in just this short half year. Such a miraculous situation made her very cautious instead—every day she would carefully examine the injury site. However, she hadn’t noticed any abnormalities for now. It was just that as the wound healed, it inevitably itched terribly. Xuan Yi unwrapped the white cloth but didn’t dare scratch hard, only lightly pressing it a few times with her fingertips.

A slight sound of the hall door opening came from the entrance, and someone arrived through the snow. It should be Shao Yi bringing her tea and snacks.

Xuan Yi hopped forcefully to the moon window and pulled it open with a flourish, smiling: “Senior Brother Shao Yi, the refreshments…”

Outside the window, the light was blindingly bright. The visitor wore white robes and black hair, even more dazzling and radiant. It seemed he was about to raise his hand to knock on the door when her sudden opening of the window startled him slightly, and he turned his face toward her.

Xuan Yi immediately wanted to cover her eyes. How unlucky! No wonder she felt like she kept hearing laughter coming from the distance last night—so this guy had returned. Half a year without seeing him, and this guy was still the same. On a snowy day, he still pretentiously wore white clothes, which was simply a second injury to her fragile eyes.

Just as she was about to forcefully slam the moon window shut, she heard his long-absent enchanting voice ring out before her, his tone ice-cold: “Today we’re going to Zhuxuan Yuyang Palace. It’s my turn to escort you.”

Xuan Yi smiled faintly and leaned against the window frame. All the old and new grievances buried in the back of her mind came flooding out again at once. She said softly: “Senior Brother Fucang, I missed you so much. I heard you broke through to some realm—does that mean you’ll be even more proficient at wielding weapons from now on?”

Fucang’s gaze unconsciously fell on her gracefully proportioned feet, but seeming to feel this was inappropriate, he immediately moved his eyes upward. Unfortunately, this Dragon Princess was disheveled from head to toe—her hair was loose, she wore no outer garment, and was barefoot with bare arms, delicate as beautiful jade.

Half a year without seeing her, and she could still shock him.

His gaze could only stop on her face, which was full of mocking expressions, and his tone grew several degrees colder: “Put on your clothes and shoes.”

He wasn’t her father. Xuan Yi paid no attention and remained focused on bickering with him: “But I haven’t eaten yet.”

Fucang said nothing, only looked back at the Comprehensive Tonic Soup that had frozen into a lump of ice under the table. Yesterday when he returned, Gu Ting had mentioned Xuan Yi, saying he’d found an ancient formula for her and was giving her daily doses of Comprehensive Tonic Soup—clearly this soup wasn’t very welcomed by this Dragon Princess.

Oh no, this morning she’d been busy examining her wound and forgot to dispose of that frozen lump of Comprehensive Tonic Soup, and he actually saw it.

Xuan Yi lifted her chin: “I don’t like Comprehensive Tonic Soup.”

Fucang looked at her quietly for a moment, then said flatly: “Right now it’s a quarter before the hour of chen. We leave right at the hour of chen—you still have a quarter of an hour to fix your appearance. Either be dragged along like this, or change clothes immediately. When the time comes, I’ll directly grab you.”

Xuan Yi bit her lip, half-smiling: “I’m improperly dressed—would Senior Brother Fucang still grab me?”

Fucang raised his long eyebrows slightly: “You can try.”

The moon window slammed shut with a thunderous sound. This arrogant princess had clearly gotten angry again.

Fucang leaned against the window below, waiting quietly. He and the Dragon Princess never seemed able to speak peacefully. From when they first met until now, separated by half a year and meeting again, she still spoke provocatively, and he couldn’t help but speak with cold sarcasm. Every time they met, they both bristled with all their quills.

The moon window suddenly opened again, and Xuan Yi’s voice, tinged with resentment, rang out: “I’m hungry.”

He turned his head. This little princess, who always loved to dress up, had already rapidly transformed her appearance. She wore a dark purple robe embroidered with light gold closed-eyed dragons, a moon-white silk wrap hanging on her arms, and her thick long hair was arranged in a slanted circular bun with gold rings adorning it, gleaming brilliantly.

The uniquely dark and elegant incense scent of the Zhuyin Clan rushed toward him. He unconsciously looked down and saw that she had already put on her shoes. Her snow-white calves were buried beneath layered skirts—he couldn’t see the current state of her injury, nor could he see those jade-like feet.

He quickly withdrew his gaze and said flatly: “Endure it.”

Endure it again? Xuan Yi stretched out both hands toward him from her elevated position, her tone arrogant: “Then carry me.”

Fucang had no reaction. Suddenly he reached out his hand, and she only felt her waist and shoulder tighten. In a dizzy spin, he actually lifted her out through the window like lifting a bag, tossed her onto his back, turned around, and walked away.

Her head bumped into his body, hurting enough to make her grit her teeth secretly.

The snow had stopped and clouds dispersed. Bits of golden sunlight scattered on the snow-covered green bamboo by the roadside. Fucang didn’t walk fast, his arm resting at the bend of her knees, her calves swaying with his steps.

He wondered how her injury was now. The Zhuyin Clan healed much more slowly than ordinary divine clans after being wounded, not to mention the demonic poison soft thorns inside her body hadn’t been removed yet. Fucang suddenly gripped her right calf. The white cloth felt dry to the touch with no bloodstains. He was somewhat surprised in his heart. Wangshu Shennu shouldn’t have had time to heal her wounds yet—her injury was healing unexpectedly fast.

A pain came at his neck. The Dragon Princess on his back said nothing but dug several fingernails into his skin, full of threat.

Fucang felt he could even hear the ice-cold words in her heart: Don’t touch me.

The sudden breath stuck in his throat made him narrow his eyes. His hand, which had slightly loosened, slowly tightened again as if in provocation. Before her nails could pierce into his skin, his hand moved like lightning, grabbing both her claws at once, hurting her enough to cry out “Ow!” Then, just like last time in the lower realm, her entire body hung on his back, struggling and squirming.

Crude brute!

“Senior Brother Fucang.” Her voice was soft and delicate, yet full of mockery. “You really don’t know anything about cherishing the fairer sex.”

Seeing he had no reaction, Xuan Yi placed her chin on his shoulder, her breath fragrant: “However, actually, I especially like crude brutes who’ve become even more formidable like this.”

Fucang’s enchanting deep voice carried a trace of faint disdain: “What a coincidence. Divine maidens who become increasingly arrogant and rude like this, I especially dislike.”

“How mean, calling me arrogant and rude.” Xuan Yi viciously blew a breath of air at his ear. “If you want gentle as water, I can do that too.”

He reacted strongly, immediately grabbing her to his front, looking at her coldly.

Xuan Yi smoothed out her sleeves. Even while being held, she maintained an elegant posture: “Senior Brother Fucang, you’ve messed up my clothes.”

Fucang’s face was dark as water. His pitch-black eyes stared at her for a long time, his voice becoming cold and indifferent again: “On this path to the palace gate, if you say one more word, if you move one more time, I’ll tie you up.”

He paused, then after all, carried her horizontally in his arms.

Xuan Yi forcefully turned her face away. She finally felt a tiny bit of regret—why didn’t she learn to fight? That way she could at least beat this bastard into a tattered rag.

Cold wind slowly meandered through the Three Hundred Courtyards. Divine beings left no traces in the snow. Fucang’s snow-white robe hem brushed past the accumulated snow, and snow particles rolled finely with the wind.

The Dragon Princess in his arms was as quiet as a block of wood, yet he couldn’t really treat her as a block of wood. Last time when she was severely injured, the circumstances were special—whether he carried her, bore her on his back, or lifted her, he hadn’t thought much about it at all. But now she was dressed splendidly and beautifully, fragrant aroma overflowing. Carrying her horizontally like this, the feeling was very strange.

For some reason, Fucang suddenly thought of that little loach that loved to burrow into his collar, a cold mass curled up at his chest.

But very quickly, the little loach transformed into the Dragon Princess’s appearance—under the hazy moonlight of the lower realm, her face like jade and porcelain, her full lips, and the bare feet that had just flashed beneath her skirt hem.

He frowned, wanting to drive away this inexplicable thought, but discovered he was powerless to do so.