The two of them planted the pear blossom tree together. Soon, several small mounds of earth appeared in the courtyard. Looking at the little mounds on the screen, Su Xi’s lips curved upward, her heart full of anticipation. Planting trees in the game felt much more rewarding than doing it outside—because time in the game passed faster. She could already imagine those few saplings growing tall and strong by the next year, swaying gently in the wind.
Originally, pear blossom trees were nothing special to Su Xi—just trees, no different from any others.
But now, because of Zai Zai, the pear blossom tree seemed to carry more meaning, fuller and deeper.
When Zai Zai saw pear blossom petals appear in his hands, he would look forward to her arrival. And whenever she walked down the street and happened to see a pear blossom tree in full bloom, she would think of that little mouth-hard-heart-soft boy in the game.
Su Xi held her phone, her eyes curving unconsciously with a smile.
After they finished planting the tree, a layer of snow had already blanketed the courtyard. It was only around four or five in the afternoon in Su Xi’s world, but in the game, it was already zi shi—midnight—the coldest time of the night. Seeing Zai Zai’s fair and clean skin turn pale from the chill, she couldn’t help but poke his little head with her finger, urging him back into the house.
The child was still growing; it was time for him to sleep.
“You’re chasing me off to bed? I’m not sleepy.”
Lu Huan, finally able to feel the presence of the spirit who had always accompanied him, was filled with excitement and joy. Naturally, he felt no sleepiness at all and wished he could talk more with this ghostly deity.
Even if he was the only one talking and asking questions, while the deity could only reply with “yes” or “no.”
Not sleepy, my foot, Su Xi thought, seeing from outside the screen that Zai Zai’s eyes were red from staying up too long and that he secretly covered a yawn with his sleeve. Her “auntie heart” overflowed like a tide—Heavens, even the way his little bun face yawns is this cute. Definitely no need to spend money unlocking the CG version!
Lu Huan went back inside, washed his hands, wiped them dry with a cloth towel, then looked toward the empty space within the room. His eyes and brows were bright as he asked, “But… do you ghostly deities need to sleep?”
Normally, immortals and spirits didn’t need to sleep or eat. But Su Xi was worried that if she said she didn’t need sleep, the curious Zai Zai would only become less willing to go to bed. So she tugged at his left hand to indicate—Yes, ghostly deities sleep too.
Zai Zai immediately grew solemn and said, “Then you must be tired. It’s my fault, pestering you with too many questions.”
Su Xi couldn’t help but laugh. So obedient, huh?
After saying that, Zai Zai looked around, thinking for a moment. Then he turned and walked to the adjoining room, saying to the deity, “Come with me.”
The small compound had quite a few rooms, and Zai Zai had repaired all of them some time ago. They looked neat and well-kept now.
He pushed open the room next to his own, spread out a new quilt, and carefully tidied the space until it was clean.
There wasn’t much furniture inside—just a bed.
Scratching his forehead with a fingertip, he said apologetically to the unseen deity beside him, “I don’t know how or where you usually sleep, but from now on, don’t wander around in the wind and dew anymore. I’m afraid the bigger ghosts might bully you. If you don’t mind, stay here with me for now. This room still lacks some things; I’ll go buy them tomorrow. For tonight, please stay in my room.”
The words appeared on the screen one by one, Zai Zai’s little bun-face filled with seriousness.
Outside the screen, Su Xi was laughing herself to death. Oh no, Zai Zai really thinks I’m a ghost now.
Afraid of other big ghosts bullying me, huh?
Why was he so adorable!
She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of image Zai Zai had conjured of her in his mind. Just earlier, he had been asking her endless questions, and when she finally told him her gender, he had blushed for a long while. If she were an invisible ghost, it shouldn’t matter if they shared the same room, right? Yet after learning her gender, the very first thing Zai Zai said was—two rooms.
Su Xi could barely suppress her wicked urge to pinch his cheeks again. But afraid he might blush for half a day like before, she forced herself to hold back and stifled the impulse with great effort.
…When she’d first started playing the game, Zai Zai had been cold and distant. She hadn’t expected that, though guarded and wary toward outsiders, he would be so fiercely protective and attentive on the inside—a very gentle and careful child.
She worried that if she didn’t “stay” in his room tonight, Zai Zai would feel so forlorn he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Since he couldn’t actually see where the ghostly deity went anyway, she might as well go along with his wishes.
So Su Xi tugged gently on Zai Zai’s left hand and smiled to indicate: “Alright.”
The osmanthus perch they’d cooked earlier had been completely forgotten, now turned cold in the winter night. When Lu Huan returned to his room and put away the three boxes, he prepared to carry the dish of osmanthus perch into the room next door—the one he’d just tidied up.
Su Xi immediately grabbed the corner of his robe—Zai Zai, be good. We’re not poor anymore. We don’t eat food that’s gone cold.
Lu Huan found himself unable to move forward and immediately understood the deity’s meaning—she must be worried the dish had turned cold, and that eating it might make him uncomfortable.
A warm current flowed through his heart. It was such a tiny gesture of concern, yet for him, it was still immeasurably precious… After all, since childhood, no one had ever cared whether he went hungry—let alone whether he ate cold food or not.
It was only a pity she couldn’t share the meal with him.
He turned his head toward the empty air behind him and said softly, “Don’t worry. I’ll put it in the kitchen and warm it up tomorrow.”
Only then did Su Xi release his robe.
Carrying the food box, Lu Huan stepped over the threshold, then turned back to gently close the door for her.
When the door shut, he paused for a moment, unable to help himself from looking back inside.
The room was still empty and silent, but though he couldn’t see her, he knew she was there—perhaps sitting on the edge of the bed, perhaps standing by the window, or perhaps crouching in front of him with a faint, amused smile…
Thinking of this, Lu Huan even began to look forward to the sunrise. In the past, he’d always been alone—his days lifeless and gray—but now, it felt as if a candle had been lit in his heart, its flame flickering with hope.
“See you tomorrow.” Lu Huan gazed at the empty air, starlight glimmering in his eyes.
It was the first time Su Xi had heard those three words from Zai Zai—see you tomorrow. It felt like a small daily promise between them, filling her heart with warmth.
She looked at the tiny figure standing before the door and couldn’t resist reaching out a finger to gently ruffle his little head, full of affection.
“……” Lu Huan’s expression, however, turned slightly puzzled. Why did this ghostly deity treat him like a child? He had already passed his fourteenth birthday—at fifteen, many people were already on the battlefield. He wasn’t a child anymore.
Of course, Su Xi couldn’t possibly know what was going through Zai Zai’s mind. With a face full of tender fondness, she watched him go back to his room to sleep, then opened the in-game shop.
───♡───
Since exams were over and she had nothing else to do, she might as well get to work on building the greenhouse.
Mission Two required a total grain output of two thousand kilograms, and Mission Six involved disaster management and feeding the local people—both related to food production. She had to get the greenhouse system running.
She’d planned to complete it and deliver it to Zai Zai’s manor before exams, but it kept getting delayed.
After specializing in the humanities, Su Xi had no background in physics, chemistry, or biology at all. If not for this game, she never would’ve found herself searching online for things like “the principles of a greenhouse.”
As she buried herself in studying, she couldn’t help but sigh—it was unbelievable that a game was actually making her learn science!
Modern greenhouses had complete systems—cooling units, automated controls, and so on—but clearly, none of those could exist under the game’s ancient setting. So Su Xi simply removed them all.
Given the freezing climate of Yan Country, the two most crucial factors affecting crop yield were insulation and irrigation.
Following the method she’d figured out last time when experimenting with cold-proof shelters, Su Xi exchanged for a simplified greenhouse blueprint in the in-game shop, then pieced it together using wood, candlelight, and other basic materials.
It was like building blocks, but harder than before. It took her several hours to finally assemble a rough, simplified version of a greenhouse.
Su Xi wasn’t sure whether it would actually work, but she placed it in Zai Zai’s courtyard first, then set the blueprint she’d exchanged for from the in-game shop directly on the desk inside his room.
Zai Zai was so smart—perhaps after seeing her greenhouse, he might be inspired and improve it into something even better.
After finishing all that, Su Xi logged off with her heart full of anticipation.
───♡───
Lu Huan lay in the adjoining room but did not sleep all night. Half-reclining on the bed, he gazed out the window at the final snowfall before spring’s arrival. The snowflakes fluttered and danced, and he pressed his lips together lightly, a bright glimmer flickering in his eyes.
At dawn the next morning, he noticed something new in the courtyard—a small structure made of wood and oiled paper, somewhat similar in shape to the previous cold-proof shelter, yet designed in a more novel way. Could this be another ingenious item she had brought, something that might aid in cultivation?
The corners of Lu Huan’s lips curved upward and couldn’t be pressed down for a long while.
He walked to the door of the neighboring room, unsure whether she was still there, and knocked softly. But no one answered—had she gone back to the underworld for some matter?
He and the ghostly deity had made an agreement: whenever she appeared, she would place a pear blossom petal in his hand. So now, even though he felt a faint disappointment at her absence, it was no longer the same anxious uncertainty as before. Instead, a sense of calm settled over him. She must have gone to take care of something. She would come back.
He pushed the door open. The neatly arranged bedding had not been touched, but there was now a blueprint spread out on the desk, and the note he had left the previous night had been taken out.
