noise
The kiss through the mask at the Spark Festival was like a silent thunderclap, shattering the original tranquility of the Nine Realms.
The expected reprimands and estrangement did not materialize. Jiu Che simply became more silent, his icy eyes quickly shifting away from Qi Yuan like a startled deer when they met, his ears honestly flushing slightly. He tacitly approved of a change, an unspoken indulgence quietly spreading between them.
Qi Yuan accurately captured this indulgence and began to push its boundaries relentlessly.
She was no longer content to stay merely in the study. While Jiu Che cultivated, she would sit on the stone steps nearby with a plate of spiritual fruits, crunching away—the crisp sounds particularly jarring in the quiet cultivation room. Sometimes, she would even suddenly ask him a question at crucial moments when he was guiding his qi circulation.
"Your Highness, do you think that if water-based magic is reversed, it might turn into ice-based magic?"
"Your Highness, do all demons have blue faces, fangs, three heads, and six arms?"
"Your Highness..."
Each time, the smooth flow of immortal energy around Jiu Che would stagnate, causing a slight disturbance. He opened his eyes and looked at the culprit who was resting her chin on her hand, her face full of "inquiry." He wanted to say, "One should not disturb someone during cultivation," but when he met her pure (well-disguised) curious gaze, the words he was about to say were swallowed back, turning into only an almost inaudible sigh. Then he patiently—even earnestly—answered her irrelevant questions.
His cultivation time was thus forced to be shortened. His trusted immortal servant saw this and was anxious, but dared not say anything.
She began to interfere in his daily life. Finding his usual Xue Ding Han Cui (a type of herbal tea) too cold, she arbitrarily replaced it with Jin Jun Mei (another herbal tea) to warm his stomach; finding the sandalwood incense in his study too somber, she somehow obtained a fruity, sweet fragrance to replace it. One day, Jiu Che even discovered that his usual pen pillow, crafted from ten-thousand-year-old cold jade, was gone, replaced by a soft, warm yellow cushion, supposedly woven from the shed fur of some kind of mythical beast.
“That’s too cold, it’s not good for Your Highness’s wrist,” she said matter-of-factly.
Jiu Che looked at the warm-colored cushion that seemed out of place with the cool style of the study, remained silent for a long time, and finally gently placed the calligraphy brush on it.
The most "outrageous" time was when he was reviewing an urgent jade slip about the movements of the demon race, Qi Yuan actually brought over a dish of cinnabar, dipped his finger in it, and drew a crooked little turtle next to a demon stronghold on the map he had spread out, and even said in a self-righteous tone: "I have disliked this place for a long time!"
In that instant, Jiu Che was genuinely angered. This jade slip needed to be archived; how could he allow such a blunder? He frowned at her, his tone unusually stern: "Qi Yuan!"
Qi Yuan was taken aback when he called her by her full name. Then her lips trembled, her eyes welled up with tears, and she looked at him with a pitiful expression, saying nothing and just staring at him.
The nascent flame in Jiu Che's heart was extinguished with a "poof" under her silent accusation, leaving only a helpless sense of powerlessness. He rubbed his temples, and finally took matters into his own hands, carefully erasing the cinnabar tortoise from the map, as if he were the one who had done wrong.
He began to clearly realize that a noisy, vibrant, and completely unruly existence had intruded into his world, which had followed the rules for thousands of years and was as quiet as a deep pool.
She barged in, bringing with her vibrant colors, clamorous voice, and undeniable warmth.
He should have rejected it, and restored order.
But why, listening to the crisp sound of her eating spirit fruit, smelling the unfamiliar sweet fragrance of fruit and wood in the air, and looking at the eye-catching warm-colored cushion on the desk... he felt that this world, which he had guarded alone for too long and which was quiet and somewhat cold, seemed to... finally have a trace of life?
He even started to get used to it.
He was used to hearing her "sudden whims" while cultivating; he was used to the teacup no longer feeling the expected chill, but rather a comforting warmth; he was used to seeing her either tending to flowers or dozing against the bookshelf between reading jade slips.
It was a noisy, somewhat annoying... kind of companionship.
That day, Qi Yuan somehow acquired a string of wind chimes and insisted on hanging them outside the study window. Jiu Che looked at the gaudy contraption made of colorful seashells and bird feathers, which seemed completely out of place with the elegance of Tingxue Garden, and instinctively wanted to refuse.
"Your Highness—" she drawled, clutching the wind chime and gazing at him expectantly, her eyes reminding him of a snowball-shaped spirit beast he had secretly raised as a child.
The words of refusal circled on the tip of her tongue, ultimately becoming: "...Whatever."
So, when a gentle breeze blew by, and the ill-timed wind chimes emitted a crisp yet slightly chaotic tinkling sound, Jiu Che, holding his pen, listened to the sound and watched the swaying light and shadow outside the window. Without even realizing it, the corners of his frozen lips curled up slightly and gently into a small arc.
His world became noisy from then on.
And he... doesn't seem to be disliked.
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