Linyue nodded slowly, her thoughts drifting. Shu Mingye had been busy these days with state matters, endless meetings, and endless scrolls. Now with a new emperor on the throne, things might change… though probably not much. The emperor rarely interfered with other states as long as three rules were followed: demons stayed quiet, taxes arrived on time, and no one launched fireworks into the capital.
Fu Jingtao was finally gone. No more surprise brides knocking at the door. No more poisoned letters written with fake smiles and expensive ink. Maybe that chapter was closed. Hopefully King Shen would not decide to become the next problem. But even if peace held, Shu Mingye leaving for Luyan was another matter entirely. Kings did not simply pack a travel bag, wave cheerfully, and stroll off to meet in-laws. Every step would require planning, guards, permissions, and an army of officials making things more difficult than they needed to be.
Song Meiyu suddenly leaned back with a loud sigh, shattering Linyue's train of thought. "We still have that ridiculously long list of herbs to collect."
Shen Zhenyu said casually, "It doesn't matter. We can go back anytime. Master will only scold us for a while. Maybe throw a teacup. Nothing new."
Song Meiyu nodded in agreement, then brightened and leaned toward Linyue. "That's true. Master probably knew we wouldn't find everything anyway. But honestly, I've grown to like this place. The food is great. The beds are soft. The people are weird but in a good way. I think it's fine if we stay here a little longer before going back."
Linyue's smile lingered as the warmth in her chest settled. Then the waiter arrived with their food, placing the sizzling clay pot rice down with a satisfying clatter. Steam rose instantly, carrying the rich scent of spice and soy that seemed to wrap around all of them.
He Yuying, who had nearly wept just watching the dumplings on the next table, immediately sat up straight. "Finally."
Song Meiyu grabbed a spoon without hesitation. "Quick. Let's eat before someone here starts crying."
He Yuying was already scooping aggressively.
Linyue simply watched him with quiet amusement before serving herself a neat portion. The moment the rice touched her tongue, her brain registered one clear thought. Fire. Bold, numbing, glorious fire. Heat flooded her mouth, tingled across her lips, and climbed into her ears until they felt faintly warm. She did not flinch. Instead, her smile curved faintly as she reached for another bite.
Across the table, He Yuying's spoon slowed halfway to his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he started chewing. Then he fanned his face with both hands and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
Next to him, Song Meiyu puffed her cheeks, tears brimming in her eyes. "Uhhh… it's so spicy. But it's so good," she said between hiccups, blowing on every bite as if that would help (It didn't). Her face was already blotched pink, tears sliding freely as she stubbornly kept eating.
Shen Zhenyu sat perfectly straight, face calm as if nothing in the world could shake him. But under the table, his foot was twitching. His ears had turned a very suspicious shade of pink. When he thought no one was watching, he lifted his cup of soy milk and chugged it down in three large gulps.
Linyue raised an eyebrow at him. He noticed and cleared his throat, voice perfectly even. "Very flavorful."
She nodded, amused, and took another bite of her fiery red rice. Truly, this group could not fight demons without chaos. And apparently, they could not eat breakfast without crying either.
The battle continued. Song Meiyu was openly crying now, her eyes red and watery as she shoveled more spicy rice into her mouth. "It hurts," she squeaked between bites. "But I can't stop eating."
He Yuying's eyes were glassy, his nose pink. But his spoon did not stop moving. He faced the spice like a soldier on the frontlines, silent and determined.
Shen Zhenyu kept his expression blank, but the hand holding his spoon trembled slightly. Every few bites, he would quietly sip his soy milk as if nothing was wrong.
Linyue ate slowly with great focus. Not because she wasn't struggling, but because she was determined not to cough, sneeze, or let a single tear fall. She refused to lose her dignity to a bowl of rice.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the clinking of spoons, the occasional sniffle, and a soft sigh from somewhere in the group wondering why they ordered extra spicy. When the clay pot was finally empty, they all leaned back in silence. Song Meiyu was dabbing her eyes with a napkin like she had just survived the ending of a tragic novel. He Yuying drained his last drop of soy milk and stared blankly into the distance. Shen Zhenyu wiped his mouth slowly with a calmness that seemed completely fake. Linyue took a small sip of soy milk and sat perfectly straight.
Finally, Song Meiyu whispered, her voice still a little shaky, "We won."
He Yuying nodded seriously. "It was a great battle."
Shen Zhenyu cleared his throat and said in his usual calm tone, "It was… a good experience."
Linyue added softly, "It will be a memorable fight."
Then all four of them nodded at the same time.
Across the room, a restaurant worker peeked at them nervously and whispered to another, "Should we… put up a warning sign for the spice level?"
Too late. These four had already survived the heatwave disguised as breakfast. If the demons didn't kill them, the chili probably would.
Song Meiyu sniffled again, her lips still slightly swollen. "Can I order plum juice?"
He Yuying nodded so fast his hair bounced. "Yes. Please. Right now."
Shen Zhenyu gave his quiet approval. "Good idea."
"I want the extra sweet one," Linyue said calmly, though her voice was a little softer than usual. She blinked very slowly, unsure if her taste buds were still alive after the chili.
Around them, the restaurant had grown busier. Waiters rushed past with trays, dodging elbows and chairs, taking orders and delivering steaming hot dishes.
Song Meiyu bravely pushed her chair back. "I'll go order it," she said, standing up with great purpose only for fate to attack.
She spun around and collided directly with a passing waiter carrying a tray piled high with drinks and bowls of noddle soup.
The group watched in perfect silence as the tray tipped.
A bowl of soup lifted into the air.
There was a splash.
A dumpling soared in a graceful arc.
Everyone gasped.
Linyue, who had been foolish enough to believe this outing might pass without incident, blinked once. She should have known better. Peace? With this group? Impossible.
The dumpling didn't land anywhere reasonable. It flew across the table and plopped straight into another customer's bowl. Impressive aim, if only it hadn't splashed soup right into the poor man's face.
Song Meiyu gasped. Loudly.
But fate wasn't done yet. The original bowl of noodles soup followed next. It crashed into the man's lap with a dramatic splorch. A sound that should never happen to pants. Then the rest of the tray gave up entirely. The rest of the items cascaded down in what could only be described as a symphony of disaster. Bowls clattered. One cracked in protest. Spoons jumped to freedom. Chopsticks rolled off like they didn't want to be involved. Drinks hit the ground in slow motion, splashing their contents far and wide.
Song Meiyu gasped again. Somehow louder than the first. Linyue wasn't sure if she was breathing or just collecting gasps like they were spiritual energy.
The waiter stood frozen, holding the now empty tray like it was evidence of a violent crime. The man who had been drenched sat in stunned silence. Broth dripped from his lap. Strand of noodle clung to his sleeve. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head toward them.
Linyue did not like the look in his eyes.
Shen Zhenyu rubbed his temples with one hand.
He yuying pretended to sip his empty cup.
Song Meiyu's voice came out in a whisper so small it could barely be heard. "…Oops."