Chapter 50 – Noodles Made by a Lover’s Hands

Feng Xuanyang moved his fingertips slightly, feeling a warm temperature in his palm. His eyelashes trembled as he opened his eyes.

His hazy eyes surveyed the surroundings and found himself lying naked on his stomach on a bed, covered with a thin blanket. When he moved, he felt a burning pain across his back, but perhaps due to the medicine, there was also a slight cooling sensation.

His palm felt movement, and a somewhat drowsy voice sounded in his ear: “Awake?” He looked up to see Long Qinghan half-leaning against the headboard, gripping his hand tightly. So that was where the warmth in his palm came from.

He blinked and only then noticed that Long Qinghan’s eyes were sunken with deep dark circles underneath, his face haggard.

“Qing… han…” he said with difficulty, finding his voice hoarse and dry.

Long Qinghan startled, quickly released their joined hands, ran to pour a cup of water, then lifted Feng Xuanyang up and carefully helped him drink.

Feng Xuanyang leaned softly against Long Qinghan’s shoulder. After drinking the water, he licked his lips and gazed deeply at Long Qinghan.

My Qinghan has grown thin. As soon as this thought arose, he slowly reached out to caress Long Qinghan’s face, stroking it lovingly with endless tenderness flowing from his lips: “Qinghan, you’ve lost weight.”

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Skrrzlp yrrlyale kd Nsdt Ckdtbyd’p lulp. Tl dseele yde pyke, “Ps usw oydv xsal oyvla?”

Wldt Dwyduydt vwttle yv vbl nsadla sq bkp xswvb: “Zlp, cwv… R oydv usw vs qlle kv vs xl okvb uswa xswvb.”

Nsdt Ckdtbyd qasgl, cwv okvbswv ydu vaynl sq yddsuydnl pyke, “Gzaktbv.” Gqvla prlyjkdt, wdela Wldt Dwyduydt’p pzktbvzu pwarakple tygl, bl rzynle bkx pvlyekzu sd vbl cle yde oldv vs tlv oyvla.

Nsdt Ckdtbyd bye nbydtle, ulv pllxle wdnbydtle. Rd vbl rypv, kq Wldt Dwyduydt bye vlyple bkx zkjl vbkp, Nsdt Ckdtbyd oswze byhl czwpble yde rwpble bkx yoyu. Lso bl ytalle ps wdwpwyzzu—bso pvaydtl.

Nsdt Ckdtbyd oyzjle shla, tldvzu zkqvle Wldt Dwyduydt, yde ynvwyzzu rwv vbl oyvla kd bkp sod xswvb, vbld pzsozu qle kv vbaswtb vblka ralpple zkrp.

Ussz oyvla xkmle okvb ellr zshl qzsole kdvs bkp xswvb. Wldt Dwyduydt tayewyzzu clnyxl xsal yzlav, zssjkdt yv vbyv nyzx qynl clqsal bkx. Tkp blyav ynble—Nsdt Ckdtbyd’p zkrp olal ps nsze. Pwakdt vbl vkxl bl oyp wdnsdpnkswp, bso xwnb pwqqlakdt bye Ckdtbyd ldewale qsa bkx?

Gqvla qkdkpbkdt vbl csoz sq oyvla, Nsdt Ckdtbyd ypjle iwklvzu, “Rp vbyv ldswtb?”

Wldt Dwyduydt qsanle y pxkzl: “Odswtb.”

Long Qinghan’s eyes moved slightly. He set down the water, gently positioned Feng Xuanyang, and pulled down the thin blanket to expose the skin on his back.

Perhaps due to excellent medicine, Feng Xuanyang’s previously burned and bloody skin had scabbed over and grown new pink flesh. Looking at that scar-covered body, Long Qinghan’s heart ached. Every time he applied medicine to Feng Xuanyang, his heart felt like it was being slowly hammered by a giant mallet—not giving him a quick end, but making life worse than death.

“Qinghan…” Perhaps due to their heart connection, Feng Xuanyang sensed Long Qinghan’s suffering and called out deeply, “It’s nothing… I’m fine, aren’t I?”

Long Qinghan took the medicine, poured the liquid into his palm to warm it, then applied it to Feng Xuanyang’s body, spreading the medicine evenly. He said nothing, but his trembling hands betrayed his inner turmoil.

Cool sensations spread from his back, making Feng Xuanyang more alert. He called softly, “Qinghan…”

Long Qinghan still didn’t answer, seriously applying medicine to Feng Xuanyang while channeling his inner power to help the medicine absorb faster.

After applying the medicine, Long Qinghan wiped his hands with a silk handkerchief and sat quietly behind Feng Xuanyang without speaking, gazing at his body while waiting for the medicine to dry.

“Qinghan…” Feng Xuanyang called again persistently, but Long Qinghan was lost in thought and still didn’t respond.

A silent atmosphere filled the room. Long Qinghan didn’t know how to answer Feng Xuanyang, because he feared that once he spoke, his voice would tremble uncontrollably.

He could only stare at Feng Xuanyang quietly, so quietly. He didn’t even dare close his eyes, because whenever he did, his mind would replay the scene of Feng Xuanyang embracing him and falling—that towering figure, that flowing blood. If he had dodged a step too late, if Feng Xuanyang’s sword hadn’t been fast enough to knock the iron claw far away, would they have been separated by death once again?

“Qinghan… I’m alive and well, aren’t I? Why are you tormenting yourself like this?” Feng Xuanyang spoke lightly, interrupting Long Qinghan’s absorbed thoughts.

Long Qinghan startled, pressed his lips together, and still didn’t answer. He glanced at Feng Xuanyang’s back, saw the medicine had dried, pulled over the thin blanket to cover him, and only then spoke: “The medicine is dry. Sleep for a while. It’s still early—you can eat when you wake up.”

Feng Xuanyang glared at him resentfully and asked, “Qinghan, why won’t you talk to me?”

Long Qinghan placed his hand over Feng Xuanyang’s eyelids and said softly, “You’re tired. Sleep.” He felt eyelashes fluttering against his palm, tickling it.

“I’m not tired!” Feng Xuanyang became annoyed and threw a childish tantrum. “I’ve slept for so long already, I won’t sleep anymore!”

“Your injuries haven’t healed yet. You should rest more to recover.”

“Then why don’t you sleep?” Feng Xuanyang pouted in dissatisfaction. “I won’t sleep—I want to eat something!”

Long Qinghan froze, knowing Feng Xuanyang’s character was always decisive. He immediately got up: “Then I’ll ask the innkeeper to prepare some food for you.”

“No!” Feng Xuanyang said petulantly. “I want to eat something you cook.”

Long Qinghan was stunned, pointing at his own nose: “I… I cook?”

“Mm-hmm!” Feng Xuanyang’s words brooked no refusal.

Long Qinghan’s face reddened as he said awkwardly, “I… I… I don’t know how to cook.”

“If you don’t know how to cook, then go learn!” Feng Xuanyang said angrily. “I’ll give you one hour to make me a bowl of noodles! Otherwise, I’ll…”

“Alright, alright,” Long Qinghan rubbed his forehead, “I’ll cook.” With a long sigh, he pushed open the door and left.

Watching Long Qinghan leave, Feng Xuanyang’s eyes dimmed. That blue figure had become much thinner, his steps somewhat unsteady, walking with a slight sway. He must not have rested properly for a long time. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but Long Qinghan must have suffered greatly taking care of him.

Feng Xuanyang’s heart ached. He hadn’t expected that one assassination would kill enemies but wound his own heart. While unconscious, he kept dreaming repeatedly of that steaming bowl of egg noodles—his joy when cooking, Long Qinghan’s smile while eating—all lingering endlessly in his dreams. In his dreams, he struggled against his consciousness, longing to break free from the dark shackles and wake up to hold that person and say “I love you,” but found himself powerless to open his eyes. At one point, he even feared he might leave this world forever, leave the person who would eat noodles with him.

When the dream ended, he realized that sometimes love is just a simple bowl of egg noodles, just someone to eat noodles with you.

He had imperiously demanded that Long Qinghan cook him a bowl of noodles because, after experiencing near-death, he longed to taste that love again.

About half an hour later, Long Qinghan returned. His face showed less worry and more joy. He smiled slightly as he walked to the bed, lifted Feng Xuanyang up, and handed him the noodles.

“Qinghan, why are you so happy?” Feng Xuanyang raised an eyebrow.

Long Qinghan smiled faintly: “Nothing much, I just didn’t expect cooking noodles for you to be so enjoyable.” A trace of sweet joy appeared on his face. So preparing food for one’s beloved was this joyful—in that moment, all worries had completely dissipated.

Seeing the smile on his face, Feng Xuanyang also smiled lightly. Making Long Qinghan cook noodles was also to make him happier, and it seemed to have worked.

Feng Xuanyang leaned softly against Long Qinghan’s shoulder, nuzzling him. “Qinghan, feed me…” The fragrant aroma of noodles wafted to his nose. Looking down, it was indeed a bowl of egg noodles, just like the ones he had made before.

“Alright.” Long Qinghan smiled as he picked up some noodles with chopsticks and brought them to Feng Xuanyang’s mouth.

However, when he tasted the noodles—

Feng Xuanyang’s face instantly darkened. He quickly swallowed with a gulp and asked hoarsely, “Qinghan, exactly how much salt did you put in?”

Long Qinghan paused, rolling his eyes back in thought: “Um, about three scoops.”

“…” Feng Xuanyang’s mouth twitched. “How big a scoop?”

Long Qinghan blinked blankly and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger: “This big.”

“…” Feng Xuanyang’s mouth twitched even more violently.

Long Qinghan tilted his head and had a realization: “Could it be too salty? Let me taste it.”

“Hey…” Feng Xuanyang startled and quickly pulled the noodles away from him. How could he let Long Qinghan eat something this salty?

Long Qinghan was stunned and lowered his head: “Is it very bad? You don’t need to spare my feelings. I… I’ve lived in luxury since childhood. Even when traveling with my master, I never did any manual work. You…” He grabbed the noodles from Feng Xuanyang’s hands, and as his supporting arm loosened, he quickly walked away. “I’ll make another bowl for you.”

“Oh my goodness—” Without support, Feng Xuanyang fell back onto the bed with a thud, landing right on his back wound. The pain made him cry out.

Hearing his beloved’s groans, Long Qinghan was startled and hurried back to help Feng Xuanyang up. “Xuanyang, what’s wrong?”

Feng Xuanyang glanced at him: “What do you think?”

Long Qinghan stared at him blankly: “What?”

“…” Feng Xuanyang couldn’t help but hold his forehead. When Long Qinghan got dense, he was really something. He waved his hand: “Never mind, never mind. Go cook noodles, but use less salt.”

“Alright.” Long Qinghan nodded, then released his hands and walked away quickly again.

In the room, after a “thud” of hitting the bed, another series of pained wails arose: “Long! Qing! Han! One day you’re going to be the death of me! Oww—it hurts so much!”

Before long, Long Qinghan returned. He carried another bowl of egg noodles to the bed, lifted up the constantly eye-rolling Feng Xuanyang, and asked in confusion, “Xuanyang, what’s wrong with your eyes? Why do they keep twitching? Could it be…” He suddenly widened his eyes. “Are your eyes injured too?”

“…” Feng Xuanyang’s mouth twitched. He simply closed his eyes and said, “Feed me!”

“Oh.” Knowing Feng Xuanyang didn’t want to talk anymore, Long Qinghan picked up some noodles and brought them to his mouth.

“Gulp”—the noodles slid down his throat. Feng Xuanyang’s face darkened again: “Qinghan, how much salt did you put in this bowl?”

Long Qinghan said in surprise, “Could it be too salty again? I only put in a tiny bit.”

“How tiny?” Feng Xuanyang lazily opened his eyes, glanced at Long Qinghan’s gesture, and his face darkened further. He said through gritted teeth, “That really is tiny.”

Just the length of a short fingernail—no wonder it was “tiny.” The whole bowl of noodles was as bland as plain water, completely tasteless.

Long Qinghan was stunned: “Could it be tasteless again? Let me try…”

“Hey…” Feng Xuanyang grabbed the bowl again, took the chopsticks himself, and gulped down the noodles in a few bites. Tasteless was better than salty death.

Long Qinghan watched Feng Xuanyang finish eating, took the empty bowl, and wiped his lips with his sleeve: “Do you want more?”

Feng Xuanyang startled and quickly waved his hands: “No, no, no, I’m full.” Seeing Long Qinghan still looked doubtful, he quickly emphasized again, “Really full.”

Long Qinghan blinked and smiled slightly: “Then good, I’ll go put the bowl away.” Then he released his hands and walked away again.

And so—

“Oww—Long! Qing! Han! I’m not done with you!”