"THU! WHAT IS THIS?!"
"IS THIS CALLED FOOD?!"
"WHO COOKED IT?!"
"IT DOES NOT EVEN TASTE LIKE IT WAS COOKED TODAY!"
Loud whines filled the hall. People spat their food onto the floor, coughing and gagging.
Lìngxiāo watched in amazement. 'It really was rotten.' He pinched the bridge of his nose, elbow resting on his other wrist.
Chóng Fēi was even more surprised by the unified disgust. "What the fuck are you all saying? My cook is more loyal than any of you."
One man coughed into his sleeve before speaking. "We apologize for our behavior, Dàozǔ. But you should check for yourself."
"Yes, we are not lying."
"Please, check."
"Something is terribly wrong."
"Fine. I will show you." Carelessly, he took a spoonful of lotus soup and put it in his mouth.
A gag rose in his throat. He turned away, took the bowl, and poured the soup out—but instead of saving his side of the floor gracefully, he threw the whole bowl down sharply, without an ounce of gratitude.
Everyone's shoulders hunched at the sharp, violent sound.
Lìngxiāo only searched for what was happening.
"It would be wrong to call it food," Chóng Fēi cursed under his breath, roughly cleaning his mouth. "It is a poison." His gaze fell on Lìngxiāo once more, heavy with suspicion.
"You." He pointed. "How did you notice the problem before even tasting it? That food does not even have a rotten smell or looks."
"I sensed it. I wanted to alert everyone, but unfortunately I was too late," Lìngxiāo admitted.
"Sensed food that is supposed to be visibly rotting?" Chóng Fēi was not satisfied with that description. He stepped closer, his eyes boring into Lìngxiāo.
"Eat yours. Let me see if yours is the same or not." He ordered.
The others said nothing. They waited for Lìngxiāo to take a sip from his lotus soup.
'Is he trying to prove something?'
Lìngxiāo did not waver. His gaze was gentle yet challenging. He had no reason to refuse.
His hand finally reached to take his personal bowl to change—but froze.
The bowl was cracked and now could not be used anymore, exhaled. Bad luck perhaps. He can manage for a single day. 'I have no other choice but to sip from this one.'
Lìngxiāo thought while his golden-brown gaze swept over the room one last time, as if searching for someone else who might also be watching.
Something really was roaming around—unseen by everyone else. Almost mocking them, except for the way it made Lìngxiāo's smile turn a little too fond, a little too knowing, as it moved with strange yet careful steps through the clan.
'Why does he walk… like his fogged feet would hurt?'
The presence stood right behind Chóng Fēi. Only one bloody eye, peering through the thick black fog, stared directly at Lìngxiāo—as if asking permission for something, or trying to tell him something he was not allowed to say.
It did not move. And neither did Lìngxiāo.
The people watched him with strange silence, as if expecting him to conjure dark magic that would solve all their problems.
"What is wrong? Eat. Or are you trying hard to save your taste buds?" Chóng Fēi pressed, his gaze holding that familiar, bored coldness—mixed with something Lìngxiāo had only read about in novellas.
Something twisted.
"I was just checking… if someone without a body was standing beside you or not." Lìngxiāo said with casual respect, his smile never trembling. He held the bowl gently, as if it were made of jade. "Since… I need to protect everyone here. Including… you."
Chóng Fēi blinked hard, disbelief flickering across his face. His shoulders stiffened, as if he really felt a hand placed there. He turned sharply, like a stubborn child being scared by an elder. "Where?!"
People hid their mouths behind their sleeves. Some took deep breaths, others cleared their throats, a few pressed their lips into thin lines—all trying not to laugh at their cruel young master's bravery wearing thin.
'That man… he might never change. The only thing that has changed is that there is no one else he can cling to like he used to.'
Lìngxiāo thought this almost pitifully—yet with something soft and familiar underneath.
The presence seemed to dislike Lìngxiāo thinking even that much about Chóng Fēi. It gave a light tug at the collar of Lìngxiāo's robe, hidden inside his loosely tied hair. No one noticed, and Lìngxiāo did not react visibly.
'Possessive. Are you not…?'
A hot breath brushed his ear in answer—a blow that carried its own emotions, its own message.
Unaware of their silent exchange, Chóng Fēi found nothing behind him. His cheeks flushed hot with humiliation. His eyes reflected pure, wounded pride.
"SILENCE!" He yelled at his people, eyes twitching. "Disloyal people like you would have been better off leaving for that shrine instead of sacrificing my siblings' lives."
The room fell silent immediately. The topic had shifted from tasting food to the very shrine where everything had begun.
"Now will you stand like a statue, or must I force you?" Chóng Fēi glared at Lìngxiāo, done with the others.
Seeing no other way to stop this man from yelling so loud the room trembled, Lìngxiāo exhaled, his eyes shutting lightly. "Alright. I have never disobeyed you anyway."
The room held its breath as Lìngxiāo brought the soup to his lips. Chóng Fēi watched closely.
'I do not smell it as bad now. Nor does it look bad. Let us see what illusion is being played on whom…'
The liquid touched his tongue—lightly cold, and surprisingly fine. It was a good dish, perhaps even better than what the clan's cooks would make. Strange, that only others had found it spoiled. He decided not to let anyone know just yet. The presence might have done it on purpose—it visibly hated everyone else around him.
So he coughed lightly, hiding the swallow. He did not swallow the soup visibly. Like any composed man, he put the bowl back down, wiped his lips clean, and set it aside.
Chóng Fēi blinked, not believing what he saw. "What? Is it bad? Or too good?"
"It really is bad, Chóng Gōngzǐ. I have not lied." Lìngxiāo said quietly, not overreacting, hoping this man would simply accept the answer and leave the bowl alone.
If Chóng Fēi found it fine, he might think Lìngxiāo had done something on purpose. Or worse—they might discover the presence was with him, causing these problems, and this would become the first case he was told to abandon.
Or worse still—what if Chóng Fēi tasted it too, after Lìngxiāo had just put his mouth to it?
He would really vomit whatever little he had put into his system.
"Really? But you did not throw it like we did." Chóng Fēi said suspiciously. Lìngxiāo felt a silent flicker of nervousness.
He could not stand the thought of anyone putting their mouth where he had just placed his.
A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead, hidden behind his brown hair. His pulse quickened, just slightly. His smile twitched faintly. "Unfortunately, I am too aware of my appearance. Perhaps that is why, Chóng Gōngzǐ…"
Chóng Fēi looked at Lìngxiāo, then at the bowl, then at his people. Their mouths moved as if his gaze were a warning.
"Y-Yes, of course! Lìngxiāo Gōngzǐ did not react the way we all did," one spoke first—the one Chóng Fēi glared at directly.
"Indeed. Who thinks about dignity when their mouth is burning with a taste like… like someone's leftover food?"
"We agree with Chóng Gōngzǐ."
"Gōngzǐ only touched the soup with his mouth. He did not even swallow."
"He might not have even smelled it."
Lìngxiāo said nothing. It was clear those people were puppets of this clan, saying whatever Chóng Fēi's gaze commanded.
"See? Now allow me to prove you wrong." Without warning, Chóng Fēi took the bowl from Lìngxiāo's hands.
Lìngxiāo's gaze snapped to him in disbelief. His smile trembled with horrified nervousness—not about what Chóng Fēi might find out, but about watching him taste the same bowl he had just used.
'Oh Lord! Why does he ask for my statements if they are useless? He will not let me investigate properly. And now this nonsense?'