Sharing a Bed

Lu Yan collapsed halfway through, bringing their hot spring trip to an early end.

On the way back, Hong Jiu wouldn't stop grumbling. “I already scoped out the place! The restaurant's location was perfect, right facing the snowy mountains, and they have a fireworks show at night. After soaking in the hot spring, we could've lit some candles and sat by the window to watch the fireworks—do you know how beautiful that would have been?” She spoke with animated excitement, painting a picture of an alternate, nonexistent future.

Sitting next to Lu Yan, Jiang Ci felt a strange sense of guilt. It clearly wasn't her fault, and she couldn't control Lu Yan's episodes, but with every word Hong Jiu grumbled, she felt a slight sting in her heart. Even she found this sudden wave of emotion strange.

“Alright, it's not like Everspring City is going to collapse. We can just go again next year, right?” Yao Wu patted Hong Jiu's shoulder carelessly. Before his hand could even settle, Hong Jiu glared at him, forcing him to retract it. His hand froze in midair, and he sheepishly withdrew it, wiping his palm twice on his robes.

“Sigh, I guess next year is our only choice.” Hong Jiu sighed, withdrawing her gaze as her tone softened. “It's all your fault for not keeping an eye on Shiyi.” Though she was blaming Yao Wu, her eyes drifted over to Lu Yan. He was leaning against Jiang Ci's shoulder, sleeping like a log. His breathing was deep and even, and a corner of the white silk ribbon covering his face fluttered slightly in the wind.

“Fortunately, we'll probably be staying in Everspring City for quite a while,” Hong Jiu muttered. Why on earth had she been so brain-dead as to go to the Central Continent and join the Joyous Union Sect back then? Although it was indeed quite satisfying for two years... cough, cough. She crushed that thought and turned her face to look at the scenery outside the window.

Yao Wu behaved himself for a while after being glared at, but it didn't take long for him to grow restless again. He leaned toward the carriage window, gripping the frame with his remaining hand to stick his head out like a child traveling far from home for the first time. “The night view of Everspring City is actually pretty nice,” he said. No one paid him any attention. Feeling ignored, Yao Wu pulled his head back inside, leaned against the carriage wall, closed his eyes, and pretended to sleep as well.

Lu Yan was sleeping very soundly. It was as if he hadn't slept in ten years; once his eyes closed, he had no intention of opening them again. His head rested on Jiang Ci's shoulder, then slid down into the crook of her neck, nudging toward her throat as if equipped with GPS, relentlessly seeking her warmth.

Jiang Ci tried to loosen her grip, wanting to change positions and stretch her numb arm. But the moment her hand left the back of his, Lu Yan grew restless again. His brow furrowed, his breathing quickened, and his head turned from side to side in the darkness as if searching for something lost. A muffled, discontented sound escaped his throat, like a baby deprived of milk. Jiang Ci had no choice but to hold his hand again, lacing her fingers back into his. Only then did his brow gradually smooth out, his breathing steadying once more. He nudged her shoulder again, finding the most comfortable angle, and fell still.

Jiang Ci looked down at him. His eyelashes were very long, casting a small, fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes. The white silk ribbon covered his eyes. She suddenly wondered what he looked like without the ribbon. When he regained his sight last time, she hadn't had the chance to look closely. She had been too panicked back then, focusing only on pulling her hand away from his wrist, and hadn't dared to look into his eyes at all.

Now that he was asleep, she could look. Unfortunately, the ribbon was still tied.

Hua Er drove the carriage up front, glancing back from time to time. She saw Lu Yan leaning on Jiang Ci's shoulder, and Jiang Ci holding his hand. Their hair was tangled together—white and black, indistinguishable from one another. Her lips twitched, a wave of indefinable emotion surging in her heart—

What did he do to deserve this? She bit her lip and cursed in her mind. Dammit, he even knows how to fake fainting to seduce a girl—no, Jiang Ci isn't his girl. She can only be mine!

Her fingers gripped the reins tightly, her knuckles turning white. The horse snorted and shook its head, not understanding why its master had suddenly pulled the reins so tight.

Before Hua Er could finish cursing in her head, Nannan's voice drifted out from the carriage.

“Auntie! Auntie! I want to hear a story!”

Hua Er's face instantly fell. She looked back—Nannan had woken up at some point and was sticking half her head out from the carriage, her big, shiny eyes staring at her with anticipation.

Hua Er glanced at Yao Wu. He had his eyes closed, leaning against the carriage wall with his mouth slightly open, breathing slowly. What a great actor. Hua Er's eyelid twitched.

She then looked at Hong Jiu. Hong Jiu was looking out the window, her profile turned to her, her lips curved slightly upward as if she were admiring some peerless scenery. But it was pitch black outside, with nothing to see.

Hua Er took a deep breath.

It wasn't that she disliked Nannan. The child was sweet, sensible, didn't cry or make a fuss, and though she was a bit clingy, it was tolerable. The problem was—she had been coaxing her the entire way.

From the moment they left the hot spring, Nannan had been clinging to her like a giant koala. She thought that once they got into the carriage and Nannan fell asleep, she could get a break. Instead, this little ancestor had woken up, full of energy, and was demanding a story again.

She shot Yao Wu a look—one of plea, begging, and near-humility. Yao Wu's eyelid twitched, and then the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward. He didn't open his eyes or respond; he merely turned his face to the other side, shifting into a more comfortable position, and even let out a soft, satisfied sigh.

Hua Er's face darkened.

She didn't believe for a second that Yao Wu hadn't seen her look, nor did she believe he hadn't heard Nannan's voice. She even suspected he was pretending to sleep on purpose—the guy had always been like this. Whenever there was something he didn't want to do, he would "enter meditation," completely unshakeable and unresponsive, only to pop back up full of life once the trouble had passed, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Auntie—”

Nannan's voice grew louder, laced with a hint of grievance. She felt sad, thinking Hua Er was ignoring her.

Hua Er took a deep breath, swallowing the curse words rising in her throat. She turned around and squatted down, her expression switching from "wanting to kill someone" to "warm and gentle" in less than half a second.

“What story does Nannan want to hear?” Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

Nannan tilted her head in thought. “I want to hear a story about a princess and a prince!” Hua Er's smile froze for a moment. She didn't know any. What she hated most in life were stories about princesses and princes, where the princess was always waiting for a man to save her, always weak, kind, and beautiful, always needing a “true love's kiss.” Every time she saw such stories, she wanted to throw the book into the fire. But she couldn't say that to Nannan. Taking a deep breath, she began to make one up.

“Once upon a time, there was a princess...”

As she narrated, she cursed Yao Wu in her mind. Whose child is this anyway? Anyone who didn't know would think I'm the damn mother. Her child-soothing gestures grew more practiced, her tone gentler, but her eyes grew increasingly hollow.

She had become a “miserable adult”—always wearing different masks, forcing smiles, and playing someone she wasn't in front of a child. A sad, thick wall now separated her from her former self.

Yao Wu continued to pretend to sleep, unable to suppress the curl of his lips. Finally free from babysitting duties, he could slack off a bit. If he responded to Hua Er now, he would be the world's biggest fool. Even a doting father gets tired, alright?

The carriage swayed along, and the lamp inside the carriage swung back and forth, casting their shadows on the carriage walls—sometimes long, sometimes short, shifting left and right.

...

The carriage slowed down. Hua Er's voice drifted in from the front, carrying a hint of relief at finally being liberated: “We're here. Get off.”

Hua Er was the first to jump off, her movements as agile as if she had just been released from prison. She inhaled the night breeze deeply, feeling as though she had never breathed such wonderful air in her life. Nannan had fallen asleep again while listening to Hua Er's rambling story, and Hua Er carried her down wrapped in her outer robe. The little girl's face was pressed against her shoulder, her breathing light and her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

Yao Wu got off the carriage and stretched, his empty sleeve swaying in the night wind. He glanced at Nannan in Hua Er's arms, his lips twitching slightly. He didn't say thank you. He walked over, gently brushing aside the stray hairs on Nannan's face with his remaining hand. His fingertip lingered on her forehead for a moment before he withdrew his hand, turned, and went inside the building first.

Hong Jiu followed behind, walking very slowly. Her injuries hadn't fully healed yet, and walking too fast made her ribs ache. Supporting herself against the doorframe, she stepped over the threshold and looked back.

Jiang Ci slowly carried Lu Yan upstairs on her back, walked down the corridor, and pushed open the door to their room.

She placed Lu Yan on the bed, took off his shoes, removed his outer robe, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Lu Yan rolled over to face her, reaching out into the air. He caught nothing, and his brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't wake up.

Jiang Ci stood by the bedside, watching him for a long time.

She pulled over a chair, sat by the bed, and held his hand in hers. His brow smoothed out.

The lamp was still lit. Leaning back in the chair, she stared at his face. The white silk ribbon, his sharp jawline, his slightly pale lips. His long eyelashes cast a shadow under his eyes. She untied the ribbon from his eyes, revealing his entire face.

See? This is much better. Jiang Ci's lips curved. Even when recovering from injuries, his face was always the first to heal. She poked his cheek and whispered softly, “Do you care so much about your looks too?”

She yawned, feeling a bit sleepy. If only my cultivation were still intact, Jiang Ci thought with some frustration. She felt sleepy every night now, unable to do anything.

She leaned against the headboard. Lu Yan couldn't do without her right now, and she also wanted him to have a peaceful sleep. Sitting half-upright, her eyelids grew heavier. Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a bit. It doesn't really count as sleeping together anyway, Jiang Ci thought. Leaning against the headboard, she gradually drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Lu Yan woke up. He wasn't fully conscious, but rather in a daze suspended between dreams and reality.

He felt something warm and soft beside him, emitting a faint fragrance—like jasmine, yet also like cedar. It was fresh and cool, but warmed by body heat. In his daze, he thought the scent was very familiar, as if he had smelled it somewhere before... Right, it was the aromatherapy spray he used to use on his body pillow. The bottle he bought was exactly this scent. It had cost him quite a bit, but a few sprays lasted for days and really helped him sleep when he cuddled it at night.

It had been a long time since he dreamed of Earth. He reached out to wrap his arms around this “body pillow,” pulling it closer into his embrace. So soft, he thought in his hazy state. The sensation was incredibly realistic; his dreams had never been this vivid before.

And why was it warm? He remembered the body pillow he bought didn't have an automatic heating function—he had bought the low-end version, fifty yuan cheaper, which required him to fill it with hot water himself.

He muttered to himself, This dream is way too high-end. It even simulated temperature.

He took another breath of the scent. “So sweet,” he murmured softly, rubbing his face against the “body pillow.” He didn't want to wake up. It was so rare to dream of Earth; he absolutely must not wake up.

He tightly hugged the “body pillow,” burying his face in her hair, his breathing gradually evening out as he sank back into dreamland.

He didn't notice that the “body pillow” in his arms had suddenly tensed up.