Ming Xi carried a few cucumbers to the kitchen and saw Ling Cang already stir-frying.
On the cutting board were diced meat, eggplant, scallions, ginger, and garlic.
The oil sizzled as the ingredients hit the wok, and the aroma instantly filled the room.
Ming Xi swallowed. "Ling Cang, when did you learn to cook?"
Men in Qing Country were generally unwilling to enter the kitchen to cook, believing it was the domain of ge'er and women. His father was the only exception—he loved cooking delicious food for his dad and never paid heed to the saying "a gentleman stays away from the kitchen." Now, Ling Cang was just like his father.
Ling Cang's mind flashed back to the time he read those mundane-life novels in the Jiuyang Palace. He remembered those books described how to prepare each meal in extreme detail. Thanks to his photographic memory, Ling Cang still remembered everything vividly and could practically execute each step.
"I learned it when I was bored in the past."
Fortunately, I was reading farming novels back then.
Otherwise, I might not be able to properly care for my delicate little husband now.
"This dish you're making... I think my father made it too. It was one of his specialties."
Ming Xi brought over a small stool, sat down, and began peeling garlic.
Little Bai nibbled on a carrot nearby.
By the time the sky gradually darkened, Ling Cang and Ming Xi had already finished cooking and were sitting on the kang.
There were two bowls of noodles, a plate of minced meat with eggplant, a plate of stir-fried green beans, a plate of braised pork, Ming Xi's cucumber salad, and a dish of pickled vegetables.
Each bowl of noodles was topped with a poached egg, minced scallions, and minced meat, glistening with oil.
"Eat up. Noodles are easy to digest at night."
Ling Cang handed the chopsticks to his little husband, who was eager to try.
"Mhmm." Ming Xi picked up the chopsticks, mixed the noodles, and slurped them up.
"So delicious!"
Ling Cang placed a piece of braised pork into his bowl. "Eat more."
Ming Xi ate most of the meal. After they finished, washed the dishes, and put everything away, the sky was completely dark.
Ming Xi, stuffed, curled up under the blankets and rubbed his belly.
Ling Cang trimmed the lamp wick, stoked the charcoal fire to make it brighter, and then climbed onto the kang.
He pulled Ming Xi over, held him in his arms, and helped rub his belly.
Ming Xi remembered how Ling Cang had told the crowd seeking an explanation today to ask the person at the back of the group.
"Ling Cang, was the person at the back of the group today that woman's lover?"
Ling Cang rested his chin on Ming Xi's head.
"Probably she had some secret held over her. Maybe he was her lover."
"That woman kept saying she wanted you to take her in, yet she turned around and did that with someone else. Really..."
"Really shameless."
Ling Cang chuckled lowly. "What? Does Ming Xi want me to take her in?"
Ming Xi instantly turned around. "No! You..."
"Didn't you promise to be my husband? Since you promised, you can't think about anyone else."
Ling Cang turned him around to straddle his lap, facing him. "So eager to be my husband, hmm?"
Ming Xi's eyes darted away. "Y-yes. You are my savior."
"Just because I'm your savior?"
Ling Cang's gaze was unusually serious, holding Ming Xi still, making him look at him.
Ming Xi looked at Ling Cang. In the lamplight, this man's brows, eyes, nose, and lips were so handsome.
He knelt up, cupped Ling Cang's face with both hands, and looked down at him.
Their eyes met.
"Because I like you. Don't you like me?" Ming Xi said softly, his eyes curved into smiles.
Ling Cang's arms instantly tightened around Ming Xi's waist.
His eyes flickered. "I like you."
His voice was deep and magnetic, seemingly filled with endless tenderness and attachment.
Those two simple words echoed in the quiet night, making Ming Xi's heart feel as if it were soaked in a honey jar—sweet and blissful.
He couldn't help but lean down and kiss Ling Cang's lips.
"Good answer. This is your reward." After kissing him, he said mischievously.
Just as he was about to pull away, he was pulled back, tumbling into Ling Cang's embrace.
"If it's a reward, one is not enough." He held the person and said with a laugh.
Then he pressed down and kissed him—his brows, the tip of his nose, the corner of his lips. Ming Xi's ears turned red as blood.
"My little husband is truly adorable."
Ling Cang laughed and kissed him again.
Ming Xi's ears were particularly sensitive. After just a few nips, he went limp in Ling Cang's arms, his lips red, panting heavily.
Ling Cang finally released him, swiftly stripped off his outer clothes, and tucked him into the blankets.
"Sleep."
As the Divine Emperor of the Three Realms, since I promised his father to wait three years, I will wait three years.
It was late. Once tucked in, Ming Xi fell into a deep sleep.
Ling Cang smiled and gently tapped Ming Xi's nose.
"You little heartless thing."
The arsonist starts a fire and then falls asleep, leaving me to put it out myself.
He threw off the covers, sat cross-legged on the kang, formed a hand seal, and was surrounded by a faint blue light.
After a few breaths, the light faded.
Perhaps the kang was too warm. Ming Xi moved closer to him, seeking coolness.
Ling Cang lifted the blanket, pulled him into his arms, and gently closed his eyes. The room was warm and cozy, the charcoal fire crackling.
Outside, the bitter wind howled, whipping snowflakes everywhere. Deep in the night, Ming Xi was disturbed by the wind and slept restlessly, frowning and burrowing into Ling Cang's embrace.
Ling Cang raised a hand, wrapped the blanket around him, and held him in his arms.
With his divine sense, he barked, "Scram."
Outside, the wild wind and snow instantly fled beyond the courtyard as if running for their lives.
The light of dawn streamed into the room. Ming Xi rubbed his eyes awake, climbed out of the blankets drowsily, shivered from the cold, and immediately scrambled back in.
Ling Cang casually pulled him closer. The charcoal in the room snapped and burst into flame, instantly devouring the cold air in the room.
Ming Xi reached out and wrapped his arms around Ling Cang's firm waist, pressing his face against his chest. "Old monster."
After cuddling under the covers for a while, they finally got up. Ling Cang first placed Ming Xi's undergarments and padded jacket on the corner of the kang to warm them, then went out.
The wind had been fierce last night, and a layer of ice covered the ground in the morning. He crouched down and touched it, finding it quite novel.
The snow had stopped. The winter sun hung on the horizon, but no warmth could be felt. Ling Cang picked up a broom and swept the snow off the steps section by section.
The door creaked open. Ming Xi, now dressed in his padded jacket, also came out. "Sigh, it's so cold." He shivered.
"Go back inside. Come out when it's warmer." Ling Cang urged.
"It's fine. I'll help you sweep the snow. I won't feel cold once I work up a sweat."
He used to often help his father sweep snow. His father would even teach him how to build snowmen.
"Ling Cang, I'll build a snowman for you."
He squatted down and reached to grab snow with his bare hands.
Ling Cang quickly stopped him and, like magic, pulled out a pair of gloves from his sleeve. The gloves had two round, black eyes on them, like the coal ball spirit his father used to draw for him.
Ming Xi loved them immensely, occasionally touching the little eyes.
Ling Cang swept all the snow over for Ming Xi, propped the broom against the wall, and went to prepare breakfast.
Ming Xi stayed in the courtyard alone, building his snowman.
Knock, knock, knock.
The courtyard gate sounded.
"Ling, young man, are you there? It's the Village Chief."
Just as Ming Xi was hesitating whether to open the door, Ling Cang's voice came from the kitchen. "Xi'er, go open the door."
Only then did he pat the snow off his hands, run over, and draw the bolt.
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