Settled—after all, it’s not like I haven’t seen you bathing more than once.
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After a long while, Lu Huan glanced at her, then was the first to speak in a low voice, explaining: “She wants to go to the capital. She has her own legs. It has nothing to do with me.”
Su Xi: “Oh.”
Su Xi also quickly darted a glance at him on the screen, and when he lifted his head, she immediately pretended to look elsewhere: “…I’m tired of all the movies, so I didn’t agree. But shadow puppetry… I haven’t seen it before.”
“Heh, is that so?” Lu Huan pulled at the corner of his lips, smiling skin-deep but not heart-deep.
He suspected that if he hadn’t stopped it just now, Xiao Xi would have accepted that person’s invitation.
Su Xi: …??? Zai Zai, aren’t you getting a little too arrogant lately?!
The youth on the screen pulled at the corner of his mouth, and his face still seemed to carry a faint trace of jealousy, only hidden very well, so nothing showed. His pitch-black eyes stared fixedly straight ahead, as if he were gazing across a thousand years directly at her.
Su Xi lowered her head to look at the screen, and for a moment she actually felt as if she were making eye contact with him—
Su Xi’s breath instantly caught.
She could almost be certain that on his side, he could already see her! Otherwise, these strange things that kept happening to her during this time—the eight hundred meters, the fish soup—all of it couldn’t be explained.
Besides, just now, when she enlarged the screen to look at his other hand behind the desk, he also seemed to sense something, his dark lashes giving the faintest imperceptible flutter.
He should not only be able to see her, but also see the phone screen in her hand?
Su Xi had long since gradually realized that this was not just some game, but that it was actually connecting two real worlds through the guise of a game.
She should have thought of it—why, after reaching one hundred points, the Zai Zai suddenly and forcibly changed from a little milk-doll form into a youth’s form. Perhaps this wasn’t any sort of game reward pack at all, but something the Zai Zai had spent his own silver to switch into.
—In other words, could it be that this so-called one-hundred-point “big reward pack” was actually that the Zai Zai also obtained, on his side, a screen through which he could see her?!
Before, Su Xi had never considered that the Zai Zai might already be able to see her from his end, so when the screen occasionally happened to cut to directly in front of him, and their gazes met, she didn’t think much of it.
But now, with her mind repeatedly galloping with the thought—“perhaps he has long since been able to see me”—the moment Su Xi met his eyes again, it was as if she had been struck by lightning, electric currents crackling as they surged through her blood into her brain, making her break out in goosebumps!
She was in a bustling modern world, while he was in the war-torn Yan Kingdom.
His gaze was deep and focused; he was meeting her eyes—the feeling of a game separated by a screen suddenly vanished, and he seemed as though in the very next second he would pass through the screen, break through the barrier, and appear before her.
Su Xi’s heart suddenly began beating a little fast. As if infected by the redness of his ear tips, her own face gradually began to burn. She moved her gaze away, almost frantic.
Damn it, Su Xi thought, this Zai Zai is way too good at hiding things. During all the time after the one hundred points, he must have laughed at her a thousand times over for not washing her hair!
Thinking of this, Su Xi immediately lost the courage to question him.
Beside her, Gu Qin was holding onto her arm, not noticing what she was doing on her phone, because Gu Qin herself had pulled out a thin little comic booklet, reading it with a lovestruck smile.
Su Xi glanced at her, and after seeing clearly what exactly she was reading, her face instantly drained white, and she immediately snapped her own phone screen shut with a “pa.”
Lu Huan: “…”
Then, Su Xi swiftly closed the little yellow booklet in Gu Qin’s hands—the one with two little figures taking off their clothes and quickly stuffed it into her friend’s backpack.
Then she glanced upward at the air, her face red from ear to ear.
Gu Qin looked utterly bewildered: “What are you doing, the final exams are over, and I’m still not allowed to read a little yellow—?”
Before she could finish speaking, Su Xi slapped a hand over her mouth, growling in frustration: “From now on, don’t read that when you’re beside me.”
Gu Qin couldn’t understand. “Xixi, didn’t you ask to borrow it from me last time? I didn’t lend it to you, and now you won’t let me—”
Su Xi continued covering her mouth.
Su Xi’s vision went dark, thinking, it’s over, all of this old mother’s dignity is gone. The Zai Zai she saw through the screen was diligent and studious at all times, tirelessly hardworking, with immaculate grooming, upright and courteous, capable in both civil and martial skills.
And the version of herself the Zai Zai might be seeing from his side was probably—
someone who didn’t wash her hair if she didn’t go out, wore pajamas at home and sprawled on the sofa with no posture, ate potato chips like a maniac with no self-control, and lay on the bed with her best friend reading BL comics with a face full of blood.
Gu Qin also loved reading little yellow comics. If one day the Zai Zai suddenly felt curious and took a closer look at what Gu Qin was reading, then it would be over—Yan State’s dignified future monarch would be corrupted by her!
Su Xi felt utterly hopeless, not even having the courage to open her phone screen again.
And the plan to go to the street market in the northern border to watch shadow puppets could not be carried out for the time being, because after Su Xi shut off her phone screen, Lu Huan received an imperial decree that had been rushed from the capital by fast horse, ordering the victorious army to return to court as soon as possible, as the palace would hold a celebration banquet for them.
This decree had long been expected, because for a general who had won a great victory, the emperor could not possibly allow him to keep holding troops outside. Naturally, he was anxious to summon the army back, reclaim the military command token first, and then discuss reward and promotion.
However, at this time, another set of rumors spread from the capital.
It was said that the emperor had a Ninth Prince who had been frail and sickly since childhood, and had always lived and recuperated at the Changchun Monastery outside the palace. Many matters of good governance were said to have been done by this Ninth Prince—such as the rescue at Yong’an Temple in the capital, the opening of granaries to relieve famine in the three regions including Fengzhou, as well as preparations of provisions before this major battle—and that this Ninth Prince was now within the Zhenyuan Army, and had also rendered outstanding military service.
This news had only just reached the northern border now, but in the capital it had already been spreading like wildfire.
In truth, this information had naturally not been spread by Lu Huan. The only thing he had done was write a single letter to Longgong Wu.
However, he suspected that after the assassination incident in Yunzhou, the emperor had, on one hand, sent people to investigate his true identity, and on the other hand, also sent someone within the army to watch him. Therefore, before this letter reached Longgong Wu’s hands, it must have already passed through the emperor’s hands.
After learning that he was actually the owner behind those farms, the emperor would certainly seize the opportunity to make a big deal out of it.
First—now that the war in the northern border had been won with great success, the common people credited the Zhenyuan Army for it, and it had little to do with the royal family. The emperor inevitably worried that the General of Zhenyuan might gain public support through this, so at this very moment he needed someone from the imperial family to produce deeds that would make the people grateful and remember them.
What Lu Huan had previously done at Yong’an Temple, the famine relief in Fengzhou, and the preparations of provisions all happened to fit. Revealing now that it had all been done by the Ninth Prince could somewhat calm the people’s hearts, letting them know the imperial family was not doing nothing.
Second—the emperor had long been wary of the General of Zhenyuan having found an heir and intended to seize military power to rebel.
But after discovering that the general’s heir was also someone of imperial blood, the emperor instead felt secretly delighted, believing that bringing back Lu Huan, who had been lost outside all these years, under the identity of the Ninth Prince would certainly catch the General of Zhenyuan off guard.
And then the General of Zhenyuan would not have much time left to find another heir.
Third—within the court, the Crown Prince and the Fifth Prince were now locked in opposition, one relying on the empress and her family, the other running around building his own networks, forming a competitive balance.
The emperor had always wanted to support the Second Prince to rise, forming a stable three-way balance easy for him to manipulate, but the Second Prince had never been able to stand on his own. Thus the emperor actually needed a new, capable prince to fill in.
And precisely then, the Yunzhou assassination incident delivered this Ninth Prince—whom he had not met for sixteen or seventeen years—right to his doorstep.
Because of all these reasons, Lu Huan actually did not need to do much. He only needed to accurately gauge the mindset of the current emperor, place before him exactly what the emperor wanted, and also make the emperor think it was his own clever discovery, letting him believe that he himself was the one playing chess—then he could, without lifting a finger, simply wait for things to settle.
And now, the fact that the news had been allowed to blow into the military camp should also be a kind of test from the emperor. A test of—whether Lu Huan already knew his own identity, whether Lu Huan had any thoughts about the identity of the Ninth Prince or even about the dragon throne, and just how great Lu Huan’s ambition was.
Therefore, when Lu Huan heard these pieces of news, he revealed the reaction he ought to show.
He stopped the soldiers and clerks who were whispering among themselves, and with his hands clasped behind him, returned to his tent with furrowed brows, looking heavily burdened.
Such behavior, to the emperor, was a display of “unable to hide matters, lacking deep scheming,” which made him easier to control. Only then would the emperor trust him more, and only then could he draw closer to his own goal.
At this moment, all the calculations in Lu Huan’s heart were completely unknown to Su Xi’s side.
When it came to official matters and governing subordinates, Lu Huan liked to advance and retreat together with her, but when it came to these intrigues and schemes, Lu Huan did not want her to witness too much.
After all, in her home, with her parents looking so harmonious—though they liked to bicker, they appeared warm and affectionate, and they cherished her dearly.
If she saw the era he lived in, brothers turning against each other, fathers and sons mutually suspicious of each other, it would be like seeing a dark side. Lu Huan did not want her to see those things.
That very day, after receiving the imperial decree, the army immediately set out to return to the capital.
The northern border was still snowing, a vast expanse of white stretching for ten thousand li. The common people who had survived the war knelt all along the long streets to send them off, kneeling all the way until they reached Yinzhou.
When Su Xi logged in again, she found that in the harem section, Liu Ruyan had already disappeared. Could it be that the day she saw the Zai Zai talking to her by the riverside, he had actually been saying something like bidding farewell?
After guessing that the Zai Zai’s side could see her, every cell in Su Xi’s body tightened.
When she returned home, she changed her shoes, walked stiffly to the sofa with mismatched hands and feet, put her schoolbag down, then sat on the sofa ramrod straight, turned on the TV, and seriously began watching—a legal program. Yes, she had to wash away the terrible impression in the Zai Zai’s mind that she loved reading little yellow books.
Before long, Father Su and Mother Su came home, and seeing Su Xi sitting upright on the sofa as if the sun had risen in the west, they were both startled.
Su Xi walked over to help her mother take off her coat, her smile like a robot: “Mom, I’ll take that for you. Dad, I poured you some tea, hurry and rest a bit.”
Lead by example—she must correct her image.
Father Su saw that the tea table really did have steaming-hot tea on it and was immediately flattered, while Mother Su stared suspiciously at Su Xi. She stepped forward and touched her forehead. “Child, are you running a fever? Why are you acting like you’ve lost your mind?”
Su Xi: “…”
Su Xi’s smile was almost frozen. She turned around and went into the bathroom to wash her hair.
Just as she turned on the faucet, Mother Su said in disbelief, “Xixi, didn’t you just wash your hair yesterday? Why are you washing it again tonight? Tomorrow is Saturday and you don’t need to go out. When you don’t go out and don’t see anyone, I’ve never seen you so proactive about washing your hair—”
She paused for a moment, then suddenly realized something and blurted out: “Xixi, are you in puppy love?”
Su Xi was struck dizzy by this sentence, her mind instantly crashing.
A few seconds later, she leapt as if someone had stepped on her tail, turned off the faucet in her hand, rushed out of the bathroom into her room, and shouted with a guilty conscience: “Puppy love? How is that possible? Mom, you’re overthinking it, seriously. I just forgot I washed it yesterday. I’m not washing anymore!”
Su Xi leaned against the back of her door, her heart pounding wildly, her face flushed red.
Puppy love—what the hell? How could she possibly…?
Not being in puppy love means she can’t wash her hair every day? What kind of logic was that?
She merely felt like she was being watched, and her desire to perform arose out of nowhere. There was no way she was going to let the Zai Zai label her as “doesn’t like washing her hair,” “reads little yellow books,” or “can’t tell grains apart, can’t do physical labor, and can’t even finish running eight hundred meters” under his gaze!
Hearing her dad and mom laughing outside, Su Xi wished she could find a hole to crawl into.
With a stiff face, she took out her phone, praying in extreme agitation that the Zai Zai hadn’t seen that embarrassing scene just now.
But the moment she opened the screen and switched to the Zai Zai’s side, she saw the youth stationed outdoors in a tent, trying hard to keep his expression tense—yet still unable to suppress his puffed cheeks, his eyes bright as he looked at her.
Su Xi: “…”
Su Xi exploded: “Lu Huan, I know you can see me already. If you keep laughing at me, I’ll never log in again!”
On the screen, Lu Huan’s expression tightened. The smile that was about to break through on his face instantly vanished without a trace. He put two fingers together and solemnly swore: “I didn’t see anything just now.”
Su Xi suddenly asked, “And when I take a bath, you’ve also never seen anything?”
Lu Huan truly had never seen anything, but he couldn’t help thinking of that moment he almost ran into by accident that day. He forced himself to steady his mind, but because he had nearly caught a glimpse due to sheer coincidence, his words were slightly stumbling: “No.”
Seeing the youth in a red fitted outfit looking exactly like someone who ought to go copy “Do not look at what is improper” three hundred times, Su Xi was furious. She thought he had really seen something. She couldn’t help lowering her head to look at her own figure, which didn’t have much to speak of, and felt even more frantic inside. The main thing was—if he could see her, why didn’t he tell her? At least then she could have washed her hair and changed clothes. She wore pajamas at home every day eating potato chips. This look was too unaesthetic and too annoying, wasn’t it?!
Her image was completely gone.
Su Xi was on the verge of tears. After calming down a bit, she retaliated at the Zai Zai: “We’re even. After all, it’s not like I haven’t seen you bathing more than once.”
She thought the Zai Zai would be struck by lightning, face pale as death—after all, his purity had been stolen. Who would have thought—
On the screen, the youth’s face instantly flushed red with a sudden “pa,” as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He didn’t dare look at her anymore and silently turned his back.
“Ridiculous.”
Then, the little heart that hadn’t appeared for a very long time slowly rose from above his head.
