“Like this?” Shen Yu asked earnestly with a completely calm expression.
Song Huaiyan’s mind went blank for another split second before he finally snapped back to reality, utterly unable to string a sentence together.
“It’s a bit hot.” Shen Yu’s fingertips lightly grazed across the earlobe before releasing his grip.
Song Huaiyan’s entire ear was dyed a blazing crimson; of course it was hot.
“That’s not my ear…” He averted his gaze, feigning composure.
Don’t you have ears of your own?
Had he not known Shen Yu’s personality, Song Huaiyan would have suspected the man did it on purpose.
“You should really just go rinse it with cold water.”
“It’s fine.” Pressing his lips together, Shen Yu turned around and carried the bowl over to the dining table.
It was a bowl of the simplest green vegetable and egg noodles.
Delicate, tender noodles submerged in a rich broth, topped with fresh green vegetables and crowned with a golden-brown fried egg cooked to absolute perfection, its yolk still slightly runny.
“When did you learn how to make noodles?” Song Huaiyan found himself genuinely curious.
“You made them before.” Shen Yu brought over the second bowl as well.
Song Huaiyan couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy toward Shen Yu’s innate talent. Truly, whenever a genius set their mind to learning something, there was nothing they couldn’t master.
Yet, glancing back at the chaotic disaster zone of a kitchen, he figured there was still a long way to go.
Sitting across from each other, Song Huaiyan picked up his chopsticks and lifted a mouthful of noodles into his mouth. The noodles were soft and glutinous, the greens crisp, the egg flavorful…
Yet it completely lacked any hint of saltiness.
“Is it bad?” Observing his expression, Shen Yu naturally caught the momentary shift in his face.
“No…” Song Huaiyan hurriedly sucked the noodles into his mouth. “It’s cooked wonderfully, the heat was precisely controlled, both color and aroma are top-notch. It’s just… a bit light on flavor.”
In truth, however, this bowl of noodles probably hadn’t seen a single speck of seasoning.
“It’s fine, eating light is good for you keeps you healthy.” Clutching his bowl, he shoveled down the rest of the noodles in a few quick bites.
Sitting across from him, Shen Yu said nothing more and lowered his gaze to begin eating his own noodles.
After drinking the soup down to the very last drop, Song Huaiyan propped his chin in his hand and watched his junior brother eat. Shen Yu’s long hair was tied back with a ribbon, though a few stray strands still framed his forehead, glistening with a thin layer of sweat that dampened his wispy bangs.
Despite being a person who looked as though he were carved from ice and snow, he was surprisingly sensitive to the heat.
Casually picking up a novel from the side, Song Huaiyan began fanning him with it. Shen Yu lifted his cold, clear phoenix eyes for a moment before dropping his lashes lazily once again, softly veering the emotions hidden in the depths of his gaze.
Resting his chin in his palm, Song Huaiyan looked at him with a growing smile at the corners of his lips, cheerfully fanning him with steady motions.
His little snow-man junior brother had grown up just like that, vibrant and real. Though a bit slender, he possessed an even sharper, more striking elegance than he had in his teens.
Indeed, time only served to make one’s white moonlight an even more intoxicating white moonlight.
His trouser pocket suddenly vibrated. Pulling out his phone, Song Huaiyan saw a message from Song Aiguo: Amulet successfully recovered.
Attached was a photo of the copper coin hanging against his chest.
Looking closely, the newly replaced red cord even had intricate patterns woven into it, making it considerably more delicate. However, the original cord had been embedded with spells he cast himself; when the cord snapped, it meant it had deflected a calamity for Xiao Ai.
He couldn’t help wondering how much of that calamity was tied to that girl.
“Old Yan, Old Yan, open up…”
Ye Wan’s voice drifted in from outside. Opening the door, Song Huaiyan found her standing there in loungewear, clutching her phone with bloodshot eyes and staring at him with a look of profound grievance.
“Quick, quick, bring me a cup of life-saving tea…”
“What happened to you? You look like you got bitten by a zombie.” It was rare to see Ye Wan in such a disheveled state, stepping out without even putting on makeup.
“Don’t ask. Honestly, getting bitten by a zombie would probably hurt less.” Dragging her heavy footsteps like a zombie, Ye Wan trudged into the doorway and collapsed onto a chair. “This pious devotee has lived a balanced life of meat and greens all her life, so why is opening this novel right before bed my karmic retribution? Ahhhh…”
“What kind of novel is this riveting?” Smiling, Song Huaiyan brewed her a cup of calming and invigorating ginseng tea.
“It’s called Records of Qing Shuang. The title sounds all scholarly and unassuming, but to summarize the plot: even after rebirth, my junior brother and I still end up in a tragic dead-end (BE)!” Ye Wan wailed toward the ceiling. “Which kind-hearted soul writes a rebirth novel that still ends in a tragic breakup? Isn’t the whole point of a rebirth story supposed to be ultimate catharsis? I stayed up all night reading it, and even someone as hard-hearted as me was wrung out of a few tears.”
“If it managed to torture your heart, the author must have some genuine skill.” Song Huaiyan handed her the ginseng tea.
“It’s not even that it’s overly agonizing, it’s just that neither protagonist has a mouth.” Ye Wan pinched a tiny fraction of her pinky finger to demonstrate. “They simply refused to talk things out, and then the misunderstandings kept snowballing, escalating into a massive crisis that ultimately went unresolved until the end… Sigh, to think I actually have a soft spot for these cheesy old-school angst tropes.”
Taking a sip of the ginseng tea, she looked up and spotted Shen Yu standing by the doorway.
“Ah, the gorgeous junior brother! He practically walked right out of the pages of a novel!” Biting down on her straw, she glanced back at Song Huaiyan. “Though, looking at you, you’ve still got plenty of charm yourself”
Song Huaiyan grew instantly vigilant: “What kind of crooked idea are you cooking up now?”
Half an hour later, Song Huaiyan and Shen Yu found themselves sitting inside Ye Wan’s studio makeup room.
“Man, junior brother’s hair is so exceptionally well-conditioned! What shampoo does he use?” Styling Shen Yu’s hair, Ye Wan clicked her tongue in admiration. “These facial features are too divine—literally a masterpiece sculpted by Nuwa herself! He doesn’t even need makeup!”
“Quiet. Junior brother’s patience has its limits.”
Song Huaiyan gestured warningly from the side, while Shen Yu sat with his eyes closed, expressionlessly letting the two of them fuss over him.
Half an hour earlier, Ye Wan had been struck by a sudden inspiration, declaring she wanted Song Huaiyan and Shen Yu to cosplay the two protagonists from Records of Qing Shuang. Coincidentally, they were martial brothers, and their looks and aura matched the roles to absolute perfection.
Normally, Song Huaiyan wouldn’t have humored her wild antics, but for some reason, he suddenly found himself really wanting to keep some photographs of Shen Yu.
Secretly, he already had a few stolen snapshots of Shen Yu that had been posted online, but he always felt those angles fell short.
Surprisingly, Shen Yu hadn’t objected either.
“Junior brother’s outfit today is already quite fitting. We just need to tie his hair into a high ponytail and crown it with a hairpiece—the textbook definition of an aloof, ethereal immortal master.” Ye Wan looked very pleased with Shen Yu’s styling before turning to appraise Song Huaiyan. “Your short hair won’t cut it, though. I’ll have to put a wig on you, and then pick out some black robes suitable for an overbearing demonic-lord senior brother.”
“So the character designs in these Xianxia novels always boil down to righteousness versus evil, demonic versus orthodox? And then dressing in contrasting white and black?” Complaining as he worked, Song Huaiyan randomly picked up an eyeshadow palette and dabbed a bit of red shadow around his own eyes. “Surely I don’t have to put on full ‘corruption/darkened’ makeup like this, right?”
“What on earth are you doing to that handsome face of yours?!” Ye Wan shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Step aside and let me handle it!”
When Song Huaiyan finally stepped out in full costume and makeup, Shen Yu was standing inside the photographic studio with his arms folded. A large studio light behind him accentuated his floating white robes, rendering his presence even more transcendent. Smoothing down the front of his own dark robes, Song Huaiyan walked over feeling somewhat awkward.
“We’re just taking a few photos. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just say the word and we’ll stop,” he told Shen Yu.
“Mn,” Shen Yu nodded, offering no other objections.
“Alright, let’s shoot a couple of solo sets first, then move on to the pairs.” Waving her DSLR camera, Ye Wan turned on the wind machine as well.
Facing the camera for the very first time, Shen Yu maintained a stone-cold, “strangers-keep-out” expression the entire time, though fortunately, it fit the character persona to a tee.
After Ye Wan fired off a frantic flurry of solo shots, it was time for the paired portion.
“Old Yan, step forward a bit closer.” Gesturing and directing the two through the camera lens, Ye Wan instructed, “Your gaze! The gaze is what matters! That feeling of a long-awaited reunion—surprise mixed with joy, doubt mixed with restraint. You get it?”
Brewing his emotions, Song Huaiyan lifted his gaze and caught sight of Shen Yu’s face, yet still couldn’t suppress a laugh.
Reenacting past events like this still carried a distinct trace of embarrassment.
“Sorry, Director Ye, it’s pretty hard not to break character and laugh here!” he sighed helplessly to Ye Wan.
“Fine then, just act naturally and I’ll capture some video footage instead,” Ye Wan proposed. “There’s nothing post-production magic can’t fix.”
Lowering his gaze, Song Huaiyan suddenly picked up a prop sword from the side and pointed it directly at Shen Yu: “In our past life, we drew swords against each other, locked in a fight to the death. Now that we’ve been granted a second chance at life… Junior brother, is there anything you wish to say?”
Stepping forward, Shen Yu wrapped his hand around the blade, bringing the tip a mere inch away from his own chest.
“If I were to tell you that everything from before was never my true intention… would you be willing to believe me?”
Looking into those eyes, deep and tranquil as water, Song Huaiyan felt his eyelashes tremble slightly after a long beat before he murmured softly, “If you say it, I will believe.”
Releasing their grips at the exact same moment, the long sword dropped to the floor, leaving only the two of them gazing longingly at one another.
Silently cheering in her heart, Ye Wan thought: Holy crap, this god-tier acting is incredible!
“Alright, perfect! This feels way more cathartic than the original plot ask what needs to be asked, say what needs to be said. What misunderstanding can’t be resolved?” Making an “OK” sign with her hands, Ye Wan beamed. “These clips are more than enough for me to edit a sweet little spinoff alternate ending.”
Gazing at Shen Yu with a subtle ripple in his eyes, Song Huaiyan slowly curved his lips into a gentle, faint smile.
In truth, he had never imagined he would cross paths with Shen Yu once more, nor had he ever anticipated they could stand beside each other in such tranquil peace.
Yet since fate had arranged for them to meet again, perhaps the tangled, hopelessly knotted threads between them hadn’t quite been tied off in a dead end yet.
Flipping through the video clips on her camera and glancing back up at the two men, Ye Wan sidled up beside Song Huaiyan and gave him a stealthy nudge with her elbow. “You two better make sure this ends up sweet!”
Song Huaiyan: ?
“Based on my years of experience reading web novels, you guys definitely still have secrets hiding between you, right?” Ye Wan lowered her voice. “Since a high-cold type like your junior brother can barely string a sentence together most of the time, as the senior brother you need to take the initiative—don’t wait around for a stubborn log of wood to speak up on his own.”
Lost in thought, Song Huaiyan watched as Ye Wan went back to setting up her camera tripod.
“Let’s shoot some more close-ups. That way I can also edit a second version with the original angst-ridden, heartbreak-inducing plot to break my followers’ hearts,” Ye Wan cackled with wicked delight. “The world shouldn’t have to suffer through heartbreak all by its lonesome self we need company.”
To express her gratitude for their friendly appearance, Ye Wan treated them to hot pot afterward. Chongqing hot pot was a first for Shen Yu; initially, Song Huaiyan worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the spice, but to his surprise, Shen Yu handled it quite well. Even though his entire face flushed red from the heat and chili, he continued eating with a totally expressionless face.
In the afternoon, Song Huaiyan took Shen Yu to a nearby furniture mall. After browsing for a long time, he felt none of the options matched Shen Yu’s aura.
Eventually, Shen Yu took a fancy to an antique-style daybed, which was a custom prop made for a film crew with decent craftsmanship and materials. After considerable sweet-talking with the shop owner, Song Huaiyan managed to purchase the daybed along with matching tables, chairs, and cabinets at double the original price.
Once it was delivered, installed, and simply decorated, the study was instantly transformed into an antique-style bedchamber.
Sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, Shen Yu looked like a newlywed bride entering her quarters for the first time.
Finding it rather amusing, Song Huaiyan teased, “Your boudoir has been tidied up for you, milady. Are you satisfied?”
Pressing his lips together, Shen Yu lifted his cool phoenix eyes toward him. “When I first arrived at the Cangyun Sect, you were the one who tidied up my room, too.”
Song Huaiyan froze. Back then, he hadn’t transmigrated to Yunzhou yet; it must have been the original body’s owner, Song Yan.
To this day, he still hadn’t told Shen Yu that he wasn’t the original Song Yan.
“I fell gravely ill back then, and I don’t remember a lot of things.” Deciding the present wasn’t the right time to clear that up, Song Huaiyan offered a vague excuse.
“Was your health… not doing well ever since that time?” Shen Yu suddenly inquired. “Is that why you’re so afraid of the cold?”
…Mn. Song Huaiyan mumbled vaguely.
He remembered how, back then, his cold affliction made him abnormally sensitive to the cold, yet unwilling to show weakness in front of his junior brother, he would always force himself to stand out in the snow with him for hours on end.
Later on, during one of those days, Shen Yu had expressionlessly shoved a warm object into his hands, wrapped in a fur pouch. Upon opening it, he found a hand warmer similar to a traditional hot-water bottle, except instead of hot water, it contained glowing red crystals that emitted continuous heat day and year round without fading.
When Song Huaiyan checked up on it, he discovered those red crystals were Zhurong stones as scorching and unceasing as molten lava, housed in a specialized container designed to insulate against most of the heat to prevent burns.
It was undoubtedly an extremely precious item, yet Shen Yu had casually claimed he just grabbed it at random from the pile of idle items lying around his room.
Presumably thanks to that, throughout the long and agonizing eight years that followed, clutching this tiny hand warmer was how he managed to survive wave after wave of cold-affliction flare-ups.
Just like the first time Shen Yu brought him down from Endless Peak on a flying sword, granting him the courage and hope to keep living in this unfamiliar world. In the trivial, everyday moments of the three years that followed, Shen Yu had been his only friend in the Cangxuan Sect—talking to him, guiding his cultivation, accompanying him through mundane boredom, making him feel that he was truly, tangibly alive, possessing a present and dreaming of a future.
Everyone said that man was cold and heartless.
Yet on that Luochun Mountain where snow flew year-round, every single ounce of warmth had come from him.
Thus, even after the two of them drifted apart, even as they grew increasingly distant, and even despite how deeply Shen Yu had despised and hated him, he still couldn’t let go of, nor bear to discard, that trace of warmth he had once cradled in the palms of his hands.