When Bai Long opened the door to the house, a warm, savoury fragrance greeted him the moment he stepped inside. It drifted gently through the hall, rich and comforting, so unexpected that he paused mid-step.
'What is this smell?'
He followed the aroma into the kitchen, guided by instinct more than reason. Leng Yue stood there, sleeves slightly rolled up, hair tied back loosely, concentrating on the simmering pot before her. The faint glow of her qi danced along the edges of the stove flame, making the scene strangely peaceful.
She glanced over her shoulder the moment she sensed him.
'Oh, you're back? Go sit down. I'm almost done with the food.'
But Bai Long didn't listen. Instead, he remained where he was, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief… as though he was seeing the Ice Phoenix in a completely different light.
"Where did you learn to cook?"
"I have lived for billions of years. How could I not be able to cook?" she replied with a tone that suggested the answer should have been obvious. Then, for the briefest moment, the corner of her mouth lifted.
"Don't tell me you don't know how to make food."
"It's not my fault," Bai Long said defensively. "A junior sister of the sect I was part of always made food for me. And when I became king, the palace cooks handled everything."
The moment those words left his mouth, an unfamiliar sensation pricked inside Leng Yue—sharp, quick, and gone just as fast.
'What is this feeling? Am I getting a cold?'
Her brows tightened slightly, and she pointed toward the windows.
"Can you close those?"
"Of course."
Bai Long moved at once, closing each window until the kitchen was sealed from the night breeze. Then he quietly sat down at the table, not trusting himself to say anything else. He didn't know why admitting such a small detail of his past felt embarrassing—but it did.
A few minutes later, Leng Yue brought the food to the table. She placed a large pot of roasted duck in the centre, steam rising from the crisp golden skin. A bowl of white rice sat beside it, still warm.
"This looks delicious." Bai Long said honestly.
"Thank you. Please help yourself."
They served themselves quietly. The clink of chopsticks, the soft breaths of two cultivators sharing a meal, and the muted hum of the lamp flame filled the space. Though no words were exchanged, the silence carried no awkwardness. Instead, it felt strangely gentle—like the calm that settled after a long day of battling the world.
When they finished, Bai Long rose immediately, gathering the bowls without hesitation.
"What are you doing?" Leng Yue asked.
"I'm going to wash the dishes. It's the least I can do after you made such a dinner."
"Do you even know how to wash dishes?" she teased lightly, her tone carrying a sly edge.
"Sorry but I don't think anyone can mess up something as simple as washing dishes."
Leng Yue watched him for a moment longer than she meant to. Something about seeing the him standing in their kitchen washing dishes by hand… felt oddly grounding.
'Is this how I looked while making dinner?'
When Bai Long finished and wiped his hands, he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning titles until one caught his eye. He pulled it free and went to sit on the couch. Before he could settle, footsteps approached.
Leng Yue walked toward him with the folded quilt from earlier.
"Thank you for this afternoon." she said simply.
"It was nothing. But you should sleep in your own bed." he added, looking at her with mild concern. "You could get a cold if you sleep on the couch."
Her lips curled faintly again. "Okay."
She placed the quilt beside him before picking her own book from the shelf. Instead of returning upstairs, she sat down on the couch right next to him.
Bai Long opened his book once more and continued to read.
Night slowly deepened outside, and with it, the temperature dropped. Bai Long noticed it before Leng Yue did, maybe due to him being slightly weaker than her.
Without speaking, he took the quilt resting beside him and draped it gently over both of them.
Leng Yue blinked, surprised.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked.
"No." Her voice was soft, softer than usual. "But… it's not uncomfortable."
Bai Long returned to his book. Leng Yue returned to hers. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, and neither moved away.
So the hours slipped by quietly as they read, the room lit only by a faint spiritual flame from the lamp.
After a while, Leng Yue closed her book and rested it on her lap. Her gaze drifted toward Bai Long's profile—sharp, calm, and completely immersed in his book.
She hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
"Back then… when you said a junior sister cooked for you… were you close?"
Bai Long paused mid-page. That question caught him off guard.
"Not really. She just insisted on it because she said I didn't eat properly when I was focused on cultivation. She was more like a little sister than anything else."
Leng Yue nodded slowly, though she wasn't sure why the answer relieved her.
"What about you?" Bai Long asked after a moment.
"Me?"
"Did anyone cook for you?"
She shook her head. "No. In the palace, the royal cooks handled everything. Before that… I never stayed long enough in one place to allow attachments like that. Longevity tends to make bonds fade."
Bai Long nodded with understanding.
Then he added calmly, "You cooked well. Better than any royal chef I ever met."
The compliment was simple, sincere, and unexpectedly intimate.
Leng Yue looked away. She didn't want him to see the faint warmth rising in her cheeks.
"Thank you."
They returned to their reading after that, but the atmosphere had shifted—subtle threads of something unspoken weaving between them.
Eventually, when the hour grew late, Leng Yue leaned slightly against the couch, quilt pulled closer around her shoulders. Bai Long noticed her eyelids begin to droop despite her cultivation realm.
"Tired?"
"A little", she admitted.
"Go rest. I'll stay a bit longer."
She nodded, stood, and gathered her book. Before heading upstairs, she paused briefly.
"Goodnight, Bai Long."
"Goodnight, Leng Yue."
Once she disappeared into the hallway, Bai Long closed his book and let out a quiet breath. The warmth lingering in the room felt different—comforting in a way he hadn't ever experienced in all his years.