Fucang couldn’t help but laugh, pulling her sleeve away. This dragon princess who couldn’t tolerate wine vapors had red eyes and nose, tears glistening—as if she’d just had a good cry.

He pulled her into the well-ventilated pavilion at the mountain top: “Stay here.”

He walked back to continue looking at the stone tablet. After a long while, he had just finished memorizing one side when he felt a figure following beside him. Looking down, he saw Xuan Yi with an orange stuffed in her mouth, insisting on staying close to him, also concentrating intently on looking at the heavenly book on the tablet.

These past few days, Fucang had been pestered by her to the point where he had lost his temper. He simply stopped paying attention to her and walked around to the back to continue looking. Before long, she had followed him again, gently grasping his sleeve as if afraid he would run away, even winding it around her hand once.

Fucang couldn’t help but sigh softly. He no longer had the mind to look at the inscription. Seeing that the golden ring in her hair had tilted, he unconsciously straightened it for her, asking in a low voice: “Why do you always use this golden ring?”

The dragon princess had always loved beauty. Her clothes were almost never repeated, yet the ornament on her head was always only this one golden ring.

Xuan Yi lowered her head to pick at the dark silver thread embroidery on his cuff, saying leisurely: “Because it looks good.”

Her thick eyelashes were dewy, carrying a trace of nasal tone. Her speech sounded like she was acting coquettish. Fucang’s gaze unconsciously flowed down her cheek to her fingers. The cloud pattern on his sleeve had nearly been picked apart by her these past few days. She must be an expert at picking apart embroidery—first using her fingernails to loosen it, then pulling out the dark silver threads one by one. Who knew who had taught her.

“Senior Brother Fucang.” Xuan Yi called to him absentmindedly. “After we finish this coursework, can we not rush back?”

Fucang remained silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: “Why?”

Why had she suddenly changed from a princess covered in sharp thorns to soft and sticky taffy?

In his heart were countless questions and vigilance, yet he so indulged her dependence, permitting her various sudden intimacies. He couldn’t stop, yet didn’t dare to be too unrestrained.

Xuan Yi said softly: “Because I still want to stay with you a little longer.”

She didn’t want to return to the ice-sealed, snow-buried Zhongshan yet. She had once been unwilling to leave that place, but now she wasn’t very willing to always remain there.

Her pale pink slender fingernails wandered across the cuff. Her ten fingers were delicate. Fucang watched for a long time, then suddenly reached out and held both her hands in his palm. No longer like before when he would pinch her wrist bones and bend her fingers—his slender hands gently held her hands, as if cradling two clouds.

Her slender fingers hesitantly moved twice, then docilely nestled in his hands.

The soft and sensuous music all around and the enchanting, wild dances, those cheerful voices and laughter, that fragrant wine aroma—suddenly all became extremely distant. Since they had met, the malice and pleasure intricately intertwined, the aversion and attraction impossible to separate—he harbored vigilance, exercised restraint in every way, yet was powerless.

She had already pulled him down from his high platform, falling into the dust.

Fucang used his fingertips to carefully caress her fingers. The response she gave was very hesitant, as if afraid of being tickled. Her fingers curled together, playfully scratching lightly in his palm, as if also scratching at his heart—itchy and tingling.

He tightened his grip on her hand, unable to control his emotions, and brought it to his lips for a kiss. She suddenly pulled her hand back. Fucang bent down to look at her lowered brows and eyes, using his hand to slowly brush aside the long hair by her ear. She dodged slightly, her face flushed bright red, but soon it turned pale.

“…I apologize.” Fucang only felt his neck also burning hot.

Xuan Yi raised her eyelashes and quietly gazed at his dark, profound eyes for a moment, then quickly looked away. Her face didn’t show the shyness or anger he had expected. She seemed preoccupied with something, somewhat puzzled, contemplating something unknown, but in the end continued to lightly pick at the dark pattern on his sleeve with her fingernail.

This inexplicable reaction made his heart sink darkly. He had always been perceptive and cautious, and deeply understood her cunning. Even though his mind was stirred, he had always maintained a trace of wariness toward her rash intimacy.

At this moment, the strange response she gave made him deeply suspicious. He unconsciously retreated somewhat. Xuan Yi tightly grabbed his sleeve as he tried to distance himself, suddenly calling to him in a low voice: “Senior Brother Fucang.”

Fucang gazed at her for a long time, his voice somewhat hoarse: “I have something to ask. Raise your head and look at me.”

She seemed somewhat troubled. Her eyelashes trembled for a long time. Finally she still raised them, but after only one glance at him, she evasively looked away.

Fucang slowly furrowed his brow. Just as he was about to speak, he heard laughter and conversation approaching from far to near on the mountain path steps. There was laughter and conversation everywhere, but among those gradually drawing near was a familiar sweet and gentle voice: “Not having seen you for some time, Little Nine has grown much taller.”

His expression changed slightly. Sure enough, two figures soon appeared ascending the steps. The one wearing dark robes with a fire-red jewel hanging from his forehead was none other than Shao Yi. A goddess in green robes linked arms with him. Unlike other Celestial Fox Clan members, the nine enormous white tails behind her were not restrained, like unpredictable white mist, swaying ceaselessly behind her skirt—no wonder the teacher wanted her tail fur.

The four celestial deities suddenly came face to face at the mountain top and couldn’t help but all feel somewhat stunned. Shao Yi reacted fastest, revealing a trace of a bitter smile: “Oh my, Junior Brother Fucang, little loach, could it be that you’re also here for the teacher’s coursework?”

He spoke correctly.

Xuan Yi looked at him, then at the green-robed goddess beside him. Shao Yi appeared lazy but in fact rarely did useless things. She was called Little Nine, so most likely the Ninth Princess was her. This was bad. The two of them seemed to know each other. She feared he might get there first.

Countless schemes instantly turned in her mind. She suddenly moved her rattan chair and floated before Shao Yi, grabbing his sleeve with a smile: “Senior Brother Shao Yi, what a coincidence meeting here. Did you miss me? Let’s go over there and chat.”

She prepared to forcibly drag him away. Naturally, Celestial Deity Shao Yi, who always felt she was heavy, wouldn’t be able to resist. Who knew that the Ninth Princess beside them, upon seeing Fucang, immediately blushed with a rosy face. She stared at him fixedly, and even the nine large tails behind her all docilely drooped down. Lowering her head, she timidly spoke: “Is this Celestial Deity Fucang? This humble one has long heard of your great name. Seeing you today, you truly live up to your reputation.”

…This was truly finding a village amid dark willows and bright flowers. It seemed that compared to Shao Yi, this Ninth Princess preferred Fucang more.

Xuan Yi felt pleased in her heart. She would rely on him using that face to trick the fox tail fur.

She urged the rattan chair, planning to yield the pavilion to the two of them. Who knew the rattan chair was tightly held by Fucang and couldn’t move at all. Xuan Yi looked up in puzzlement, meeting Fucang’s icy eyes. In the past, his eyes often revealed coldness, but never had it been like now where the chill penetrated to the bone.

“Senior Brother Fucang?” Her voice was like a mosquito’s buzz, her face full of bewilderment. “Go on quickly, make her happy.”

They had come all the way to Qingqiu in the Southern Wasteland. Since they had already taken action, she absolutely would not return empty-handed, and absolutely would not lose to Shao Yi of the Qingyang Clan.

Fucang’s fingers gripped tightly into the armrest of the rattan chair. The rattan chair even made sounds close to shattering because of this. He glanced grimly at Xuan Yi, then suddenly abruptly released his hand, nodding slightly toward the Ninth Princess, his voice indifferent yet polite: “Ninth Princess, my respects.”

Without further discussion, Xuan Yi dragged Shao Yi away. He didn’t resist either, following her down the steps with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. Looking back to see the Ninth Princess blushing and speaking with Fucang, he sighed and lightly pinched Xuan Yi’s nose: “This little loach full of schemes, wasted three days of my time.”

Xuan Yi looked completely innocent: “The Ninth Princess just happens to like Senior Brother Fucang more. What does it have to do with me?”

Shao Yi’s brow slightly raised. He stared at her for a while, then continued to turn his head toward the two celestial deities in the pavilion. He smiled faintly: “Looking at them, they really are more compatible. At a glance, they’re clearly a matched pair.”

Xuan Yi turned back to look at the pavilion. The mountain wind was lifting the robes of the two celestial deities in the pavilion, their hair flying. The two of them stood quite close together, one green and one white. Both took the path of dignified and elegant refinement. They were indeed very well-matched.

She smiled, her expression calm: “They do look good. Senior Brother Shao Yi, are you angry?”

Shao Yi pulled her rattan chair while walking down the steps, saying gently: “What do I have to be angry about? It doesn’t matter if Little Nine doesn’t like me, as long as you like me.”