Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Xiao Mei opened his eyes to find it was already night. He felt uncomfortable all over, as if a steamroller had run over his legs. His stiff shoulders felt like they were filled with cement, and any slight movement threatened to crack them apart. Beside him, Shui Su appeared to be awake, tapping away at his phone in a perfectly poised manner, occasionally enlarging images to scrutinize their contents.
It took a long while for Xiao Mei's body to fully awaken. His hands and feet, still entangled around Shui Su's waist, caught the man's attention as he turned to greet him.
"I'm not feeling well; my body is heavy and painful, and I can't lift myself," he replied. The adverse effects of exhaustion were evident in him; despite being young, he seemed plagued by various ailments. Shui Su, skilled in medicine, had tried many methods to help him recover, but with work taking precedence over rest, it was difficult to achieve lasting results.
Warm hands gently pressed and kneaded each of his discomforts away, alleviating his unease. Xiao Mei leaned affectionately against Shui Su, savoring the care he received.
"I dreamt about our childhood. Dad punished you by making you kneel in the ancestral hall until you were hungry. I couldn't leave the house and ended up kneeling too. In the end, I was hospitalized while you finally came out. Dad said you didn't cry when he beat you, but when he told you I was in the hospital, you cried like a baby, pretending to be deep and serious while cursing me alongside Dad for being foolish. I never told Dad about how you bullied me at school; thanks for that!"
The man chuckled upon hearing this, turning to tuck the blanket around him more snugly before placing a soft kiss on his forehead, as gentle as a feather's touch. Xiao Mei sighed contentedly and relaxed back into the mattress, pulling out his phone from beneath the pillow to check what Song Bunan was doing at that moment.
"Uncle Meng said he made us something delicious and asked whether we wanted to eat in the dining room or in the bedroom," Shui Su said as he opened the window to reveal a starry night sky filled with silver light spilling onto the ground. The entire room was draped in a soft veil of light; however, the cool breeze made Xiao Mei curl up tighter under the covers, expressing his desire to stay in the bedroom.
"Then I'll go fetch it," Shui Su declared decisively before striding out of the room, his footsteps quickly fading down the hallway.
The night at Jiang Family Courtyard was quiet; few ventured outside after dark except for the restless butler Uncle Meng and those on nighttime duties. They were regulars at night, having seen the courtyard transform through various times and even under different conditions than The Mortal Realm.
The Ghost Messengers also enjoyed gathering here sometimes in small groups within the garden, discussing matters while admiring the flowers tended by Uncle Meng and the gardeners. Typically during such times, Shui Su would be present, standing out in his white attire among several dark figures. However, the Ghost Messengers did not have fond feelings for Xiao Mei; as someone disliked by them, he would often be left in the bedroom during these gatherings—playing games or watching movies—but always instructed to remain silent.
As for why he was disliked, he himself had no idea. Shui Su was reluctant to explain further; whenever Xiao Mei asked about it, he would awkwardly change the subject. Song Bunan didn’t mind though; upon learning of Xiao Mei's confusion, he directly asked the Ghost Messengers about it but received only silence in return. After persistent questioning led to frustration on their part, they simply turned away.
"I feel like it's some kind of unspeakable secret," Song Bunan concluded seriously but futilely.
The person on the other end of the line clearly hadn’t gone to sleep yet and responded promptly. The moment Xiao Mei asked when he could visit Jiang Family again, Song Bunan sent over a meme—a greasy cat with a crooked smile—accompanied by text: "I knew it."
"You know nothing," Xiao Mei replied without holding back.
"I knew you would ask me this question, are you going to talk to me about New Life Hospital and the laboratory?" The hamster bared its teeth.
"Knowing that is just pointless chatter."
"Is this how you ask for a favor? Where's your sincerity?" The hamster stomped its foot.
"A bag of cookies," Xiao Mei offered.
"Not enough!"
"Half a bag," Xiao Mei bargained.
"What? You're really pushing it! I want a full bag! All three flavors! Tomorrow afternoon, cookies in one hand and a meeting with people in the other!" The hamster flipped the table.
The phone screen seemed to vibrate with the emojis, and Xiao Mei was laughing uncontrollably on the bed, cursing Song Bunan for being a fool.
On the other end of the line, the person sitting on the sofa was so angry that he was baring his teeth, throwing punches at the cushion.
Xin Yi had gotten used to his partner's sudden outbursts while playing on the phone. Without turning around, he asked what was wrong, and the person beside him began to recount at lightning speed and in a high-pitched voice how unfairly they had been treated during their chat.
Usually, it was about being cheated out of money or goods by Xiao Mei or having their favorite snacks withheld.
"Xiao Mei asked me when I would go to the Jiang Family! And threatened me with cookies!" As the explanation unfolded, Xin Yi felt a moment of joy and began talking to himself, saying, "See? I knew it was about food."
"Do you really like cookies that much?" Xin Yi asked delicately. The person next to him, having finished venting, looked at him with a pitiful expression and nodded seriously, explaining that Uncle Meng, the butler of the Jiang Family, baked the best cookies in the world and went on to detail which flavors he had tried that were beyond compare.
As long as it involves food, Song Bunan can describe it in vivid detail, painting a picture of the dish in one's mind. Of course, if he speaks too quickly, Xin Yi can only feel that the person next to him is so hungry that he starts rattling off a list of dishes.
For instance, right now, Song Bunan has begun to enumerate the seventh flavor of the cookie series—Toffee Cookie. He starts with the history of toffee and ends with how this cookie is baked by Uncle Meng.
Xin Yi scratches his head, feeling even more confused than before. His already drowsy mind hazily thinks that in the next moment, he could drift off to sleep dreaming of the eighth flavor.
“You’re quite good at cooking; why don’t you bake it yourself?” Reason prompts him to respond to Song Bunan's chatter, interrupting the man's incessant talk and giving himself a little space to rest his brain.
Fortunately, the man picks up on this and smiles, though a layer of embarrassment gradually covers his expression as he hesitantly explains that he has tried but ended up baking something that resembled charcoal. “There are things I can’t make either,” Song Bunan admits generously, such as baking.
“I see.” The drowsiness dissipates a bit as Xin Yi passes some fruit on the table. “So you’re great at cooking but completely hopeless at baking?”
With his mouth full, Song Bunan mumbles an explanation about what useful skills he possesses on his culinary skill tree. Most of it is kitchen skills, with baking never mentioned. Xin Yi, not willing to give up, continues to ask why he doesn’t practice baking more. He watches as Song Bunan curls up again, wearing an expression that suggests he has accepted his fate.
“You wouldn’t want a kitchen disaster like me learning to bake. My highest achievement was baking half-cooked egg tarts; my brother ended up in the hospital for a week after eating one.” At this point, both fall silent for a while, an awkward atmosphere spreading between them. Finally, Song Bunan continues the topic: “Later I tried baking Chiffon Cake. I used a lot of ingredients and ended up with a lot of half-raw batter that even the dogs wouldn’t eat.”
This was undoubtedly true. Song Bunan clearly remembers how his well-made Chiffon Cake was thrown out by his brother to a stray dog nearby. A scrawny dog rushed over, sniffed it once, and hurriedly left. Since then, that cake sat there like an exhibit; many animals came and went, sniffing it lightly before observing it and then moving on without any further action.
Xin Yi nods and can't help but laugh.
His drowsiness has completely vanished now, while the person on the sofa beside him munches on fruit and starts yawning, though his eyes still dart around the snacks on the coffee table.
A sense of relaxed comfort spreads within Xin Yi's heart. This unfamiliar feeling makes him somewhat uneasy; his hands and feet feel stiff and cold, yet his heart is warm. This sensation only emerged after moving into Song Bunan's home; just a few days ago it was still subtle, occasionally flickering in and out like something elusive.
But now he fully possesses it, right here in this soft and comfortable sofa. Next to him is a hamster endlessly munching away at its food, occasionally bringing joy through its antics; there’s a cup of hot tea and an oven and microwave heating things up in the kitchen.
"You were daydreaming," Song Bunan said.
Xin Yi snapped back to reality and turned to look at Song Bunan. The man's eyes, hidden behind glasses and bangs, sparkled as he smiled and asked what had caused him to zone out.
"I was contemplating this new feeling I've been experiencing," he replied. "I feel... relaxed."
It seemed almost like a joke, and he realized it only after the fact. As a human, one typically alternates between work and rest; how could relaxation be considered a new sensation? Xin Yi felt a knot forming in his heart, especially under the gaze of Song Bunan's bright eyes.
"That's perfectly normal," Song Bunan said. "Your life in Mighty Falcon was probably just missions and rest, right? You didn't have any hobbies and rushed to complete tasks to pass the time. But now that you've left Mighty Falcon and have your own life, with me as your wonderful companion, it's natural to feel relaxed. And once you get used to this feeling, you'll definitely come to love it."
"Love it?" Xin Yi asked.
Song Bunan nodded vigorously, explaining that once someone finds a place they belong, they naturally want to slow down and enjoy life.
Belonging. Xin Yi chewed on the word in his mind, breaking it down and piecing it back together until he finally tasted its meaning—like the fruit he had just eaten, the afternoon tea, and the egg pancake that Song Bunan had whimsically made by mixing barbecue into eggs.
"Will I feel this sense of relaxation when I go to your place in the future?" He cherished this feeling and didn’t want it to fade away. Yet it felt so unfamiliar; even now that he had a definition for it, it remained elusive, slipping away under the weight of anxiety.
The person beside him stretched out comfortably and shuffled into the kitchen in his slippers. Moments later, he returned with a bag of dried squid. The faintly fishy snack forced its way into Xin Yi's mouth, accompanied by Song Bunan's voice.
He said that as long as one's heart is at peace, one could feel relaxed even sitting in the wilderness—let alone in their own home.
Comment 0 Comment Count