Linyue kept staring at the white fluffy creature curled smugly across her legs.
The creature stared back.
Two very serious pairs of eyes locked. One belonged to her, bloodshot from surviving near-death. The other glowed faintly, round and unblinking, like a celestial marshmallow that had achieved enlightenment.
Her voice came out quiet but steady. "Did Master… Qi Heng create you?"
The white fluffy dog blinked.
Beside her, Shu Mingye's hand froze mid-stroke, fingers still tangled gently in her hair. His head turned sharply. "Pie, what are you saying? Are you feverish again?"
Before she could answer, the white dog threw back its head and let out a long, dramatic howl. Not threatening. Not wild. It was the sound of someone warming up for opera, full of misplaced drama.
Linyue narrowed her eyes. "Do you understand what I said?"
The white dog howled again, a little louder this time, carrying an air of obviousness, as if to say, obviously.
Shu Mingye blinked, then muttered darkly, "If that beast is mocking me, I will—"
"Shh." Linyue raised a finger, ignoring him. Her gaze stayed locked on the white fluff. "Fine. Tilt your head to the right for yes, to the left for no."
The white dog promptly tilted its head to the right.
Shu Mingye's eyes narrowed. "…Did it just answer you?"
Linyue asked again. "So my master really created you?"
The white dog proudly and confidently tilted its head to the right again.
Shu Mingye stared at the spirit beast. "…Is it even possible for someone to create a spirit beast?" he asked, turning to the dog suspiciously.
The white dog tilted its head to the right. Again.
"I'm going to lose my mind," Shu Mingye muttered.
"It's possible for my master," Linyue said, completely serious. "He's transcendence, after all."
The white dog puffed up proudly and tilted its head to the right again.
Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes. "You still call him master after what he did? And that dog… maybe he can only tilt its head to the right."
The white dog, clearly insulted, tilted its head dramatically to the left. As if to say, excuse you.
Linyue smiled, victorious. "See? It's smart."
"Suspiciously smart," Shu Mingye muttered. "Probably plotting something."
"And about my master…" Linyue looked down at the white dog thoughtfully. "Maybe… we made a mistake."
Shu Mingye tensed. "What mistake, Pie? Don't tell me you're still trying to defend him?"
"No," Linyue shook her head slowly. "He's not my master. My master is Qi Heng."
The white dog immediately tilted its head to the right again, like a dramatic ding ding ding.
"See?" she said, smiling faintly. "It knows its master too."
Shu Mingye stared at both of them, deeply troubled. "Pie, what do you mean?"
Linyue took a deep breath. "Do you remember the jade pendant that fell from his sleeve during the fight? I saw the name carved on it. It said… Qi Meng."
Shu Mingye blinked. "Qi Meng? Not Qi Heng?"
The dog suddenly perked up and let out a long howl. A haaaahhh! of confirmation.
Linyue gave a small nod. "Exactly. That explains the familiar feeling in his spiritual energy. Similar, but not the same. Maybe… they're brothers. Or even twins."
The white dog tilted its head sharply to the right. Final confirmation. No take-backs. Then as if that wasn't enough, it wagged its tail so fiercely the air crackled faintly with static.
Shu Mingye sighed, rubbing his forehead. "So… they're two different people. That explains the difference in spiritual energy and personality. The one who saved you and the one who wanted to kill you. Great. Just great. That makes everything more complicated."
Linyue nodded again, though her gaze lingered on the creature at her feet, her thoughts turning in circles.
Meanwhile, the so-called divine beast had already decided its job was finished. It curled back into a neat ball at her ankles and fell asleep without a care, tail twitching every so often as if even in its dreams it was proud of itself.
Shu Mingye glanced at the white fluff with open envy. His voice came out low, almost to himself. "Look at it. Sleeps better than I do."
Linyue blinked slowly at him. He actually sounded sulky. And when the white dog let out a tiny snore, Shu Mingye's scowl darkened further, as if even that was a direct insult to his dignity.
He tore his eyes away with effort and leaned closer to her. His voice softened. "Alright. Don't think too much. You need to rest."
Linyue turned her head and looked at him with big, meaningful eyes. Then she whispered, "…I'm hungry."
Shu Mingye froze.
Wait. Wait just a moment.
That tone… that look… that I'm hungry…
For a brief, dangerous second, his thoughts flew in entirely wrong direction. He coughed hard and straightened his back, his face stiff. "Hungry. For food. Right. Of course."
He very determinedly banished a certain other thought out of his head and buried it in the deepest pit of his soul. Absolutely not. She was injured. She needed comfort and care, not whatever nonsense his brain had just conjured up. What in the heavens was wrong with his brain? He must have short-circuited from stress. Yes. That was the only explanation.
Meanwhile, the white dog snored again, louder this time.
Shu Mingye glared at it.
It was definitely mocking him.
He cleared his throat and forced his attention back to something useful. Reaching behind him, he pulled forward a food basket. "I brought moon dumplings. Your loud companion made an entire pouch of heating-array wrappers to keep them warm. They've basically been stewing in magic. I think they're glowing."
Linyue's lips curved faintly. Pale, weak, but still a smile. Shu Mingye's chest tightened until it was almost painful. He had nearly lost all hope. And now she was smiling at him, speaking to him, asking for dumplings. That tiny curve on her lips was enough to make his heart practically slam against his ribs.
She added in a whisper, "I want soy milk too."
"Yes, yes, anything." Shu Mingye quickly unwrapped the dumplings and checked the temperature. "Not too hot, not too cold. Soft enough, not mushy. Just right." Then he held it before her lips. "Say ah."
Linyue's eyes narrowed, faint amusement flickering despite the weakness in her expression. "I'm not a baby."
"You just came back from the dead," Shu Mingye replied without hesitation.
Her gaze flicked from the moon dumpling in his hand to his face. Technically, he had a point. An annoyingly accurate point. So she leaned forward and took a small bite. She chewed slowly. The sweet lotus paste filling melted on her tongue, warm and soft, sticking just enough to be satisfying. For a brief moment, all the pain and heaviness in her chest faded into the background. Nothing mattered except this: dumpling happiness.
She took another bite. Directly from his hand again.
Shu Mingye stared, unable to look away. His mighty, legendary, stab-you-for-blinking-wrong face had softened into something ridiculously sappy. His eyes never left her face. Her movements were still slow and weak, but the way her eyes brightened lit up something deep inside him. Without realizing it, he smiled. Finally, she was awake. Eating. Complaining. The world made sense again. Maybe, just maybe, his heart hadn't been shattered beyond repair after all.
"Pie," he said softly, "if you want dumplings every day for the rest of your life, I'll personally learn to make them. I'll even wear the silly apron Song Meiyu gave me." The words slipped out before he could stop them. And once spoken, he couldn't take them back.
Linyue blinked, the corners of her lips twitching. "The pink one with the rabbit ears?"
Shu Mingye's face went stiff. "…I'm trying to make a romantic vow here."
The white dog snorted in its sleep, the sound far too much like laughter.
Linyue coughed a laugh. "You should wear it. I bet you'll look adorable."
Shu Mingye groaned, tilting his head back against the carriage wall.
And just like that, inside the quiet, slightly wobbly carriage rolling through the forest of Shulin… there was warmth, laughter, and the comforting smell of dumplings.
It wasn't perfect. But it was theirs.