“What’s wrong?” Seeing Feng Jiu’er like this, Jian Yi’s thick brows furrowed slightly. “Isn’t this the chicken leg you like? Doesn’t it taste good?”

“No.” Feng Jiu’er pushed the chicken leg back into Jian Yi’s hand, lowered her head, and tore off a piece of chicken breast. “I suddenly felt like eating this instead.”

The words had barely left her mouth before Feng Jiu’er regretted them.

Chicken breast was hard to make tasty even back in the modern world, let alone here, simply roasted with no seasoning whatsoever.

But could she really back out of eating it now?

With somewhat mechanical motions, Feng Jiu’er put the piece of chicken breast in her mouth.

The moment she started chewing, she wanted to spit it back out—it really was awful!

Feng Jiu’er glanced up at Jian Yi, genuinely unable to understand how he managed to eat this with such relish every single time.

Jian Yi tore off a slick piece of meat from the chicken leg and held it up to Feng Jiu’er’s lips.

Feng Jiu’er finally managed to swallow the chicken breast in her mouth, then immediately opened wide and bit into the delicious piece of leg meat.

Having grown used to eating this way, Feng Jiu’er liked roasted chicken even unsalted—especially the kind Jian Yi made, fragrant enough to whet anyone’s appetite just from the smell.

“Wife, are you feeling sorry for me?” Jian Yi asked, smiling as he looked at the woman before him.

Feng Jiu’er stared at him, eyes narrowing halfway.

“Who’s your wife?” She picked up the chicken carcass on the leaf and tore off a very small piece of meat from it.

“This young lady was just thinking of swapping with you because you always look like you’re enjoying it so much. Who knows if you’d keep all the good parts for yourself otherwise?”

Having learned from her first bite, Feng Jiu’er tore off only small pieces each time after that.

Sure enough, as long as she didn’t stuff too much in at once and chewed slowly, it wasn’t too hard to swallow.

Jian Yi watched the woman beside him for a moment, then held out his hand, dangling the chicken leg in front of her.

“Eat it, I don’t mind.” He pushed the chicken leg back into Feng Jiu’er’s hands and took the carcass from in front of her instead.

Looking at the tender chicken leg in her hand, Feng Jiu’er had no desire whatsoever to touch the breast meat again.

“Jiu’er, do you know? I used to look forward to someone fighting me over food. Fortunately, you came along.” Jian Yi suddenly said in a low voice.

Hearing his words, Feng Jiu’er unconsciously lifted her gaze to look at him. “Why is that?”

“Have you forgotten? I used to be an assassin.” Jian Yi met Feng Jiu’er’s gaze, the corner of his mouth curving slightly.

“Once, I sat alone on a mountain watching a farmhouse, and the food I was eating tasted of nothing at all.”

Feng Jiu’er watched Jian Yi, blinking, as if trying to picture what that scene must have looked like.

“That day, the farmer caught a wild pheasant and cooked it into a meal,” Jian Yi’s voice went on.

“Their family had three children—five people in all—gathered around a small table, with nothing on it but wild greens and that single bird.”

“One chicken for five people clearly wasn’t enough, but they ate happily, laughing and talking. And as for me…”

Jian Yi lowered his eyes to glance at the chicken in his own hands, the smile at the corner of his mouth turning faintly bitter.

“The chicken I had at the time was much bigger than theirs, but in the end, I didn’t even finish half of it.”

“That day, I finally realized—I don’t actually like being alone.”

In Feng Jiu’er’s mind’s eye, she saw a proud, long-haired man sitting alone atop a mountain, a roasted chicken in his arms, his gaze fixed on a farmer’s home at the base of the mountain.

The solitude in his eyes was the kind that made one’s heart ache just to look at.

As she watched, a glimmer rose in the little girl’s eyes. Jian Yi picked up the other chicken, tore off a piece of meat, and held it out.

“So, Jiu’er… don’t refuse me.”

Feng Jiu’er had never expected that one day, a topic Jian Yi brought up would nearly bring her to tears.

Though she didn’t actually cry—her nose just stung a little, that was all.

Feng Jiu’er opened her mouth, took in the piece of meat Jian Yi offered, and murmured, “Who said anything about refusing you? This meat’s delicious, I want—”

Before Feng Jiu’er could finish speaking, Jian Yi swept out a long arm and pulled her into him.

“Jian Yi, what are you doing?” Feng Jiu’er hadn’t even swallowed the meat in her mouth yet and nearly choked.

Jian Yi held her fast in his arms, looking down at her. “You said you wouldn’t refuse me. Why are you still pushing me away?”

Looking into those earnest eyes, Feng Jiu’er couldn’t help but turn serious herself.

She pushed him away firmly, sat back down in her own spot, and even scooted a little farther back.

“Jian Yi, stop putting your hands on me at the drop of a hat. You’re no match for me, you know that?”

“You like that I eat your chicken, and I like eating your chicken too, but don’t go mixing that up with other things all the time.”

“Men and women shouldn’t touch! Isn’t that the phrase you people are always going on about?”

Feng Jiu’er glared at the man beside her, frowning slightly. “If you keep putting your hands on me, watch out, I’ll cripple you!”

“I happen to be your future husband.” Jian Yi cut in softly, interrupting Feng Jiu’er.

He was, as ever, both this earnest and this naive—like a child, and yet you couldn’t tell at all whether he was joking.

Feng Jiu’er shot him a glare, pursing her lips. “Say that again and watch me cripple you right now!”

“You wouldn’t have the heart to.” No sooner had he said it than Jian Yi raised an eyebrow smugly.

That raised eyebrow finally let Feng Jiu’er breathe a sigh of relief.

When this guy joked around, he did it so convincingly that even she had nearly been fooled.

“You jerk, Jian Yi! I’m going to duel you one-on-one!” Feng Jiu’er glanced at the chicken leg she’d raised up, but in the end couldn’t bring herself to throw it.

“Never mind, nothing beats a good plump chicken leg.”

She bit into the chicken leg, her gaze settling on Jian Yi once more.

“A month from now, we’ll… have a duel. If you lose, from then on you’d better not speak unless I let you!”

“Fine.” Jian Yi looked at the woman with her mouth still stuffed full of meat, and nodded lightly. “If I win, I’ll marry you.”

Suddenly, a snort of laughter sounded from behind Feng Jiu’er.

Qiaomu sat up and stretched her back. “I can’t keep pretending to sleep through this.”

She turned her head to glance at the two of them not far off, then flipped herself lightly over and came to sit beside them.

Qiaomu picked up the water pouch beside her, twisted it open, and took a sip before looking at the pair before her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I really couldn’t help myself, so I woke up. Sorry about that!”

Setting down the water pouch, Qiaomu picked up a chicken and tore off a big, plump leg.

She looked at Jian Yi, raising an eyebrow. “By the way, this is your chicken—you like it when Jiu’er eats your chicken.”

Her gaze shifted, and Qiaomu looked at Feng Jiu’er, continuing, “And Jiu’er likes eating your chicken too—so here’s the real question: can I eat this chicken or not?”

Qiaomu looked at the two of them with a perfectly straight face, but after spouting such nonsense, even she couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

“Never mind, go on with whatever you two were doing. I don’t understand your private language anyway.”

Taking a bite of the chicken leg, Qiaomu’s gaze fell on Jian Yi again.

“Jian Yi, I never expected you’d be so bold on your own… sorry! I’m not sure how to put it.”

“But don’t get mad! I, Qiaomu, am rooting for you—work hard, and who knows, maybe you’ll really pull it off in the end.”