Lu Huan did not understand the mechanism behind these bubbles appearing, he only guessed that they should appear when his inner emotions were rather surging.
Just now, when Su Xi saw a bubble pop up above her own head, she slapped the table and burst out laughing, not shocked at all, but showing the appearance of being long accustomed to it. It seemed that who knew how many bubbles had already popped out above her head before.
…She did not know what strange and bizarre thoughts had appeared in each of those bubbles.
Thinking of these, Lu Huan’s expression grew even darker.
He simply felt that life held no more meaning.
Just like all the boys under the heavens who had let their beloved settle into their hearts, he actually harbored a faint hope inside that Xiao Xi could know those turning-and-tossing thoughts in his heart.
But at the same time he was afraid of her knowing.
He feared that once she knew, she would feel awkward, feel strange, and would never open that brick slab in her hand to come find him again. The dynasty he was in and the world she was in were separated by a thousand years; he feared losing her more than anyone.
Moreover, by then, the two of them would probably no longer be able to maintain even the relaxed, warm atmosphere they had now.
However, judging from Xiao Xi still merely treating him as a little cartoon figure inside a screen, the bubbles above his head should have never spoken the words “like” or “fond.”
Thinking this, although Lu Huan’s feelings were complicated, he still slightly let out a breath of relief.
But each time she opened the brick slab to find him, joy would arise uncontrollably in his heart; when she did not come to find him, he could not control the longing in his heart; and when she came but then said she was going to sleep, although he urged her to sleep, he still had thousands of strands of reluctance in his heart… The emotions related to her were simply too many, utterly impossible to control.
Lu Huan was only afraid that one day, if he was careless, the bubble above his head would mistakenly reveal the thoughts he could not speak.
Thus, the next time Xiao Xi came to find him, he would take a deep breath, strive to focus on the matter before him and on the words he spoke to her, doing his best to keep his inner emotions from fluctuating too much.
───♡───
Su Xi was not a fool, and very soon noticed that Zai Zai was acting a bit strange.
Normally, every few days a bubble would pop up above his head. Even if the bubble had no words, there would still be little suns, little red hearts, or desolate little leaves to express his mood. But ever since that last time when the bubble revealed the thought of “want to return to the capital,” it had not appeared again for quite a long while.
This was not even the strangest part.
Before, because he did not know what direction she was in, whenever he spoke to her, he would subconsciously look toward the emptiness. But recently, the direction he looked toward was extremely fixed—he always lifted his head and looked straight ahead—even if straight ahead was a desk. Could it be that he thought she would stand on the desk to speak to him?
Not only that, sometimes his expression would also seem a bit unusual. For example, that time she slapped the table and burst out laughing; he should not have been able to see her at all, yet the expression on his face carried a kind of stiff lifelessness.
Su Xi thought about it over and over but could not understand, and subconsciously explained it as Zai Zai perhaps having some secret he was hiding from her, something he did not want her to know, which made him act strange.
But what secret could there be between her and him, when they spoke of everything?
Was it something new regarding the Emperor or his background that had progressed, but he could not tell her directly? Or had the disaster in the northern border worsened, making him deeply worried and unable to spare his mind to think of other things? Or was it… some early romance that he felt embarrassed telling mama about? But he was in a military camp, surrounded by bearded cartoon soldiers; where would he get the chance to fall in love early?!
…Su Xi thought until her head hurt and decided not to make wild guesses anymore.
But because of this, after she opened the game, her gaze could not help but linger on Zai Zai for a long time.
Previously she might have been glancing around, looking at the other little officials walking back and forth inside the screen, but now she could not help staring at Zai Zai’s face, watching exactly what was different about him.
But after looking for a long time, Su Xi actually began to gradually develop a kind of—“Zai Zai seems to no longer be a Zai Zai”—feeling.
Previously, from Prince Ning Manor to the Ministry of War, her visuals had always been a cartoon interface; in her eyes, Zai Zai had always been a short-armed, short-legged little milk-dumpling figure. No matter what action he did or what expression he made, it was cute enough to make one spit milk.
Even when he was angry, on Su Xi’s side it was still a round bun-face puffed up, completely lacking any sort of dignity.
But now, each day Zai Zai appeared before her with the title of “Lu Huan, who at seventeen in Yan Country could already marry and have children”—that was right, for some reason, once his sixteenth birthday passed, this title immediately changed, the game system intelligent to a frightening degree.
Add to that the silver armor he wore, the golden beast belt at his waist, the bronze heart-guards at the front and back, and the armored boots he often had no time to remove, making him always appear with slightly messy hair and blood on his cheeks—an entirely battle-worn appearance. He was completely a handsome youth whom no one could tear their eyes away from.
Moreover, he had previously emphasized his height of over eight chi, causing Su Xi to no longer use the top-down viewing angle, but instead the straight-on viewing angle.
This resulted in Su Xi being startled by his tall, slender youth’s height every time, while the surrounding cartoon characters whose original art hadn’t been enabled were even more dwarfed by him, looking like midgets.
Zai Zai’s original art always maintained this teenage form; his occasional frown, his every subtle expression, fell into Su Xi’s eyes with utmost realism, making her press her hand over her heart, thinking: no wonder the daughter of the Minister of War followed him out that day wanting to send him off.
And when he discussed matters with Zhenyuan General and the others, contemplating the formation diagrams, every movement carried an indescribable aura of an ancient person.
The seventeen-year-old youth now—unparalleled in handsomeness—was entirely different from the little milk-dumpling who had not even reached Su Xi’s knee before.
After Su Xi watched him in this mode for a long time, she almost felt dazed; each time she called him “Zai Zai” in her heart, she would stutter for a moment, feeling that the word was hard to say.
But thanks to this lousy game! She wanted to switch back to the original cartoon mode, yet the game actually would not allow her to switch back!
Could this be some kind of forced “easy to go from frugality to luxury, hard to go from luxury to frugality”?!
Su Xi felt a bit depressed. This feeling was like the little Zai Zai she had personally raised suddenly going “pa” and growing up one day; facing the youth’s handsome face, she simply could not call him Zai Zai.
Before, when Zai Zai had not yet passed his sixteenth birthday and was still younger than Su Xi, she could still cheerfully call him “Little Huan.” But now, watching as Zai Zai had already turned seventeen, and by the timeline was even three months older than she was, she could not say “Little Huan” anymore either.
Could someone with a height of over one meter eighty still be considered a Zai Zai?
This sense of dissonance and complexity had originally been only a tiny bit, for she saw Zai Zai every day and naturally would not develop any unfamiliarity.
But that tiny bit of discomfort reached its peak on this day, when she came online and immediately ran into Zai Zai taking off his armor and outer robe!
Su Xi didn’t have time to close her eyes before she saw the youth’s bare upper body inside the tent!
He had just finished patrolling with the troops and had dismounted outside, told two soldiers to guard outside the tent, then stood beside the bed with his back to Su Xi as he removed his armor, his outer robe already half off, picking up the wound medicine on the table to apply to his injuries.
The youth’s skin was like it had been coated with a layer of white glaze—smooth, with beautiful lines; after nearly a year of training and battles, he possessed thin, not exaggerated muscles, carrying a feeling somewhere between a youth’s greenness and a grown man’s steadiness. There seemed to be an arrow wound added to his shoulder, oozing blood, as though tearing apart the beauty and adding a kind of battle-damaged aesthetic.
Su Xi: Damn!
When Zai Zai had still been a little milk-dumpling, she had seen his body while helping him change out of his soaked clothes, but back then his little bun-face body was also soft and white, and nothing could be seen.
She had never expected that in reality Zai Zai’s physique would be this impressive!
She had, just like that, caught a full view of Zai Zai without any warning!
Although Su Xi had no impure thoughts toward Zai Zai, she normally neither looked at explicit images nor had many chances to watch intimate scenes in dramas. Her mind was still rather simple, never having stored anyone’s naked body, and she absolutely never expected that the first she would ever see would turn out to be the game’s little Zai Zai! Her face instantly burned uncontrollably.
Su Xi rubbed her face, striving to calm herself down. He was still injured.
She hurriedly exchanged from the shop a hundred-percent-effective wound-healing medicine, tugged on the outer robe hanging beside Zai Zai, and said anxiously, “How did you get hurt again?”
Whenever Lu Huan was not on the battlefield, he would always keep the screen open. When he lifted his head and saw that she had also opened the brick slab in her hand, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile, and he said, “Just a scrape.”
Su Xi enlarged the screen over his arm, and seeing that it was indeed only a scrape and not a major problem, she finally relaxed a little.
The scrape was on the back of his arm, making it somewhat difficult for Zai Zai to bandage by himself, but Su Xi was also clumsy operating through the screen and could not handle it well. She was afraid she would hurt Zai Zai, so she did not take the initiative to offer to help.
Fortunately, Zai Zai was quick with his hands and feet, and soon bandaged it skillfully, then lowered his head to put on his outer robe.
When he lowered his head to put on the outer robe, his long ebony hair fell like a waterfall over his smooth and powerful shoulder blades, and Su Xi didn’t even know where her eyes should look.
Su Xi felt like crying without tears.
Why—why could this game not return to the original milk-dumpling mode? Now her face was inexplicably hot, and she didn’t dare let the interface remain in the tent.
