With that thought, Lu Huan steadied himself. As usual, he pretended that she was a spirit by his side, and smiled faintly as he said,
“General Zhenyuan’s army will soon depart for the northern frontier. I’ll be accompanying them before long. Since I’ve been relieved of my post at the Ministry of War for the moment, I thought I’d take these few days to pack my things.”
Su Xi nodded outside the screen. That made sense—Main Quest Eleven, which had just appeared, was already marked as an advanced one. It seemed Zai Zai’s imperial path had progressed at least halfway by now. On the journey north, he would have to pass through Yunzhou, and that was precisely where he would save the emperor from the assassination attempt at the palace.
This would probably be the first time he and the emperor met face-to-face—half a year ago, at the night banquet, there had been too many people, and the emperor had been drinking. He likely hadn’t even seen Zai Zai’s face clearly.
But this time, when the emperor and her Zai Zai, the Ninth Prince, met, something was bound to happen.
So she quickly dragged the screen view toward the wardrobe, pulled out all the thick garments, and tossed them onto Zai Zai’s bed while muttering nonstop:
“The northern frontier is freezing cold, and winter’s almost here—you’ve got to bring more warm clothes.”
Lu Huan looked at the words on the screen and at the flurry of wind beside him that swept from the wardrobe and back again, busily helping him pack, and a gentle warmth rippled through his heart.
He pressed his lips together in a small smile and continued folding his clothes, his voice soft:
“Alright.”
Zai Zai was deft at packing. Su Xi, separated by the screen, couldn’t really help. She watched him go under the eaves to take down the lantern and then lift the chest she’d buried in the ground earlier to place it with his luggage. Her eyes widened.
“You’re bringing that for a campaign?”
Now that Lu Huan could finally speak more freely with her, not just ask questions she answered with “yes” or “no,” he was much happier.
“A fourth-rank officer’s salary has increased a great deal,” he said. “I intend to buy a residence in the inner city. I’ll take these with me—they’ll be for our future home.”
Before, whether in Prince Ning’s residence or at the Ministry of War’s official quarters, he had always been living under someone else’s roof or rushing from place to place—none of it had ever truly been home. The outer-city estate only served as lodging for his servants and workers. So the residence he planned to buy now would finally be their first real home.
Su Xi felt a warmth rising in her own heart too. Smiling across the screen, she lifted her hand to rub his head.
“That’s nice,” she said.
But just as her fingertip was about to touch the screen, it froze mid-air.
In the past, Zai Zai had been a tiny round dumpling, soft and sweet, making her want to squish and pat him all the time.
Yet now, Zai Zai seemed to have grown overnight into an impossibly handsome young man.
Sensing her movement, he turned his head slightly. His fine brows and eyes were like melting snow; under the candlelight, his pupils shimmered with a faint glow that made Su Xi’s heart skip involuntarily.
Her fingertip, meant for the top of his head, landed instead on his shoulder—pressing down too hard in a flustered panic.
Inside the screen, his arm nearly popped out of its socket.
“…”
Su Xi hurriedly said, “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to, just used too much strength.”
She could never quite control her force through the screen.
Lu Huan looked up at her, noticing the faint flush on her cheeks… and suddenly, his mood lifted.
“It’s fine. That wasn’t much strength, I can take far more,” he said with a grin, pretending to stay absorbed in packing.
Outside the screen, Su Xi was utterly puzzled. Why on earth was there a little sun beaming above his head now? What’s going on? She’d nearly wrenched his arm off, yet he looked not only delighted but a little smug?
Finally able to converse properly, the two of them couldn’t help chatting endlessly—especially Su Xi, who turned into a complete chatterbox. One moment she was gossiping about Yun Xiupang, the next about that embroidered ball incident… Seeing Zai Zai’s face grow darker and darker, she burst out laughing and hurried to change the topic.
But Su Xi had gone out jogging early that morning and hadn’t showered before flopping onto the sofa to play with Zai Zai for half an hour. Now, covered in sweat, she felt sticky and uncomfortable, so she decided to log off and take a bath.
Before logging off, she gave Zai Zai a quick heads-up.
“I still have something to do, so I’ll head off first. I’ll come find you tonight to play, zai—” Su Xi stopped herself just in time, remembering that Zai Zai didn’t like her calling him that. She bit her lip and smiled, changing it instead:
“Xiao Huan, see you tomorrow.”
Lu Huan wasn’t entirely satisfied with this new name either, but it was still much better than the old one. Reluctantly, he accepted it and asked, “Will you come with me to the northern frontier?”
“Of course! What kind of question is that?” Su Xi answered without hesitation.
Seeing the faint curve of his lips and the ease returning to his expression, Su Xi smiled too. She raised her hand then quickly smacked it back down, determined to correct her habit of always wanting to ruffle his hair. Instead, she reached out and gently tugged his sleeve.
“I’m leaving now. Bye-bye.”
Lu Huan didn’t know what those last two words meant, but he could roughly guess it was something like farewell. So he followed her lead and repeated:
“Bye… bye-bye.”
Outside the screen, Su Xi burst into laughter before finally turning off her phone.
She tossed it onto the sofa, opened NetEase Cloud Music, played a song, then grabbed a towel and headed toward the bathroom.
Meanwhile, on Lu Huan’s side—his screen still open—he stared in astonishment at the brick-like device she had left on the couch.
That thing could sing?!
Lu Huan sat on his bed, waved his sleeve to bring the screen closer, and curiously enlarged the image. Reaching out, he tried to touch the glowing brick lying on the couch. Instantly, the surface lit up, displaying the words “Fingerprint Unlock.”
Lu Huan was utterly amazed. The civilization a thousand years later was far too wondrous. He still didn’t understand what this brick really was—why some people used it to transmit voices, others to play songs, and she could even use it as her screen.
He saw Su Xi walk into one of the smaller rooms.
He hadn’t seen that room before, so he tried switching the screen view over.
Inside, Su Xi stood before a mirror so bright it could reflect like polished bronze, applying some kind of foam to her face. From what Lu Huan could tell, there was a white object beside her that looked somewhat like a toilet, yet also resembled a well.
The lantern was fixed to the ceiling—apparently, a thousand years later, lighting no longer required candles?
He kept packing his things while glancing curiously at her surroundings—until suddenly, Su Xi began taking off her clothes.
Lu Huan’s face flushed scarlet. Before he could even make out anything clearly, he hurriedly shut off the screen.
His heart pounded violently. He went to the desk, drew in a deep breath, and punished himself by copying the phrase “See no evil, do no evil” a hundred times before he finally calmed down.
Lu Huan packed his belongings swiftly. General Zhenyuan’s army was to set off in two days. Mounting his horse, he joined several men he’d met at the archery field before, escorting a new batch of grain and supplies provided by Wan Sanqian, all bound for the northern frontier.
The march was long and arduous. Back when he’d believed Su Xi was a spirit, he had worried about her following him so far. But now that he knew she only needed to unlock certain areas to appear there instantly, he felt reassured.
After several days of travel, when the army set up camp in a village, Lu Huan returned alone to his tent. Closing the curtain tightly behind him, he finally opened the screen again.
The past few days had been all marching; he could only speak to her at night when he was alone in his tent.
At this moment, it seemed to be morning on her side.
Sitting cross-legged on the straw mat, Lu Huan picked up two of the booklets from the long couch in her living room—she called them magazines—and began reading them carefully through the screen, trying to memorize more of her era’s strange new words while waiting for her to wake.
As the sun rose, the door to another room in her house opened, and two middle-aged cartoon-like figures walked out.
Lu Huan smiled slightly. He’d seen them over the past few days—those two were Su Father and Su Mother.
He silently greeted Su Father and Su Mother, but of course, the two of them didn’t know of his existence. They yawned their way through breakfast, left a portion for Su Xi on the long dining table, then grabbed their bags and went out—probably to work, just as he himself would go to the government office.
Lu Huan rose and added more oil to the candle flame on his side, waiting a little longer, but Su Xi’s door still didn’t open.
Because of what had happened last time in the bathing room, he never dared to switch the view to her room lightly.
But today was the day she should be going to xuetang—he had learned from the booklets that in her world, they called xuetang a “school.”
And yet she still hadn’t gotten up.
Lu Huan frowned. The porridge and eggs on the table were almost cold. After hesitating for a moment, he reached through the screen, carefully dragged the interface toward the kitchen, and placed the two items inside a black box.
That thing was called a microwave oven. He had read an advertisement for it in one of those magazines a few days ago. After some experimenting, he found it quite simple to use. Indeed, the technology of a thousand years later was truly convenient.
After a while, he took the plastic container of porridge back out and set it on the table again.
Now it should be warm. His brows relaxed slightly.
But still, Su Xi didn’t come out.
Lu Huan glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of her living room—it was already past the time she normally rushed out to put on her shoes and go to school. A faint trace of worry flickered in his eyes.
He hesitated for two seconds, then finally switched the screen to her room.
And saw—
She was lying on the bed, drenched in sweat, wrapped in a thick quilt, eyes tightly shut, her face pale as paper. Her hands clutched her stomach as she curled up into a tight ball.
Lu Huan’s eyelids twitched violently, and his heart clenched all at once. He shot up from the straw mat in alarm.
