Suddenly, Qin An turned around.
Cheng Xi was caught off guard, meeting his gaze head-on.
Her heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, she wanted to look away, but felt that would be too deliberate, so she forced herself to stay still, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the hem of her clothes.
"…Earlier," she spoke first, "thank you for speaking up for me."
Qin An looked at her, his gaze somewhat profound, as if lost in thought. He then cleared his throat, "I just thought they were too noisy."
Hearing this, Cheng Xi’s heart, which had just lifted slightly, wobbled and sank back down.
He disliked her so much—how could he possibly want to protect her?
It seemed she had been misreading the signs.
She mentally scolded herself.
She must not do this again.
Qin An shifted his gaze away and turned to enter the house.
Her face was streaked with black and white—he really couldn’t bear to look.
He fetched a basin of clean water and a fresh towel, placed them on the stone steps under the corridor, and looked at Cheng Xi. "Wash up."
Only then did Cheng Xi belatedly remember the soot still smudged on her face, and she felt a bit embarrassed.
"Oh."
She quickly picked up the towel hanging by the basin, dipped it into the water, wrung it out thoroughly, and carefully wiped her face.
The grime was soon cleaned off, leaving droplets clinging to her soft cheeks, making her skin appear fair with a rosy glow—like a dewy peach in the morning, fresh and plump, tempting one to… take a gentle bite.
Qin An’s throat tightened, his gaze inexplicably pausing.
He was startled by his own sudden thought.
He hurriedly lowered his eyes to hide the turmoil within, his voice slightly hoarse as he tossed out, "I’ll go cook porridge."
Without waiting for Cheng Xi’s response, he turned and strode quickly into the kitchen, his retreating figure carrying an unnatural urgency.
Cheng Xi stared at his back, momentarily stunned.
Was he that hungry?
Running so fast.
In the kitchen.
Qin An crouched in front of the stove, bending over to pick up the charred firewood from the ground.
His hand paused halfway.
The image of that face from earlier suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Water droplets slid down her cheeks, hanging from her pointed chin, accentuating the slender, pale curve of her neck.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Stop thinking about it.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and neatly stacked the firewood in his hands.
But the restless heat not only refused to subside—it traveled down his throat, burning through him until he felt utterly unsettled.
The rice in the pot was covered in a layer of ash and could no longer be used.
Gritting his teeth, he stood up to scoop more rice.
As his hand touched the rice bag, that face appeared before him again.
Qin An poured the rice into the basin, his movements heavier than usual as he scooped water, splashing it around.
He stared at the rice in the basin, his brow tightly furrowed.
What was wrong with him?
He had joined the military at fifteen, endured every hardship, witnessed every kind of scene—his heart was as tough as forged iron.
Why was he so unsteady today?
"How many times should the rice be rinsed?"
Cheng Xi’s voice suddenly came from behind.
Qin An’s hand jerked, nearly tipping the basin over.
He turned around.
Cheng Xi stood at the kitchen door, holding the water basin from earlier.
Not only had she washed her face, but she had also wiped her neck. The collar of her shirt was slightly damp, clinging to her collarbone.
Her neck, washed clean, glowed with a pale radiance, framed by damp strands of hair. She looked fresh and clean.
She placed the basin by the stove and leaned in to look at the rice in his basin.
She was very close.
That faint scent of fresh grass drifted over again.
Qin An stiffened for a moment.
"…Three times." His voice was slightly hoarse.
Cheng Xi didn't notice, tilting her head to watch him rinse the rice.
His hands were large, with distinct knuckles, stirring through the grains and water with efficient, graceful movements.
"I remember," she nodded.
But she didn't leave, still standing by the stove.
She had to learn how to use the stove in this era.
She couldn't rely on him every time.
Or burn the kitchen down every time.
She rose slightly on her toes, peering into his basin.
Her arm nearly brushed against his.
That faint grassy scent was closer now than before.
Qin An felt all the blood in his body rush to one place, his entire body tensing rigidly.
He instinctively shifted aside.
At the same time, he felt annoyed.
Annoyed with himself.
She had merely washed her face, merely stood a little closer.
Since when had Qin An become so pathetic?
Cheng Xi sensed him shifting away.
Was he bothered by her being too close?
Finding her in the way?
She straightened up, taking a few steps back, her lips unconsciously pursing as her voice softened: "I just wanted to learn how to cook. I can't have you do it every time."