Chapter 4
The atmosphere suddenly became heavy and stifling.
I hugged my knees on the hard bed, staring at his tall and lonely back, cursing the damn monk in my heart ten thousand times for being sick.
The silence was unnerving.
Until my stomach growled loudly.
I hadn't eaten anything since noon, and after such intense "exercise," I was starving.
His back stiffened.
A moment later, he walked to the door and came back with two steamed buns, a bowl of plain porridge, and a small plate of pickled vegetables. He set them on the table.
"Eat." Short and direct.
I climbed off the bed and moved over.
The porridge was warm. The buns were so hard they could crack walnuts.
I chewed on the bun while glancing at him.
He stood by the window, staring at the pitch-black courtyard outside, looking like he had entered meditation.
"Aren't you eating?" I asked.
"Not hungry."
"Oh."
I continued chewing my rock-hard bun.
Halfway through, it was too dry to swallow. I pushed the bowl toward him. "Water."
He turned, poured a cup of clear water, and placed it in front of me.
His fingers were long and well-defined. These were the same hands that had pinned me against the broken stone tablet earlier, gripping my waist...
I quickly lowered my head to drink, suppressing the untimely heat rising to my face.
After I finished eating, he cleared the bowls and chopsticks.
I moved back to the painfully hard meditation bed, bored out of my mind.
He lit the lamp, sat at the table, and picked up a scroll of scriptures to read.
He was actually reading.
His brows were lowered, and his side profile looked softer under the dim yellow light, but his spine remained perfectly straight. It was as if the man who had pressed me down so fiercely earlier wasn't him at all.
Keep pretending. Just keep pretending.
Time crawled by.
I couldn't get comfortable lying down and kept tossing and turning. The sound of the fabric rubbing was especially loud in the silence.
He turned a page without looking up. "Behave yourself."
"Your bed is too hard! How am I supposed to sleep?" I complained.
"Don't snakes prefer dark, cold, and hard places?" he replied indifferently.
I: ...
He had a point. I couldn't refute it.
But I was a demon who had cultivated a human form! I had standards!
I lay there feeling wronged for a while longer, but I really couldn't sleep. Everything that had happened today was too explosive. I needed time to process it.
"Hey, Fa Hai," I called him.
He didn't respond.
"Are you really not going to kill me anymore?"
The hand turning the page stopped.
He lifted his eyes. His gaze passed through the dim light and landed on my face. "Do you want to die that badly?"
"Not really..." I shrank my neck. "It's just... your sudden change in business direction is a bit too big. I'm having trouble adjusting."
He put down the scripture and looked at me. "Heaven and earth are cut off. Spiritual energy is exhausted. Killing you brings no benefit to the heavenly way or to the human world."
"Oh, so keeping me as a bed warmer is beneficial?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
I immediately wanted to slap myself.
When would I fix this loose mouth of mine!
His eyes instantly darkened.
I quickly wrapped myself tighter in the thin blanket. "I was wrong! Master! I'll shut up!"
He stood up.
I flinched back in fear.
But he only blew out the oil lamp.
In the darkness, he walked to the bed, took off his shoes, and got on.
The meditation bed was already small. Once he was on it, the space immediately felt cramped.
His warm body temperature and overwhelming presence instantly enveloped me.
I stiffened, not daring to breathe.
He wasn't going to do it again, was he? I really couldn't take it anymore! I would die! My snake life would be over!
He lay down with his back to me, breathing steady.
It seemed... he really just wanted to sleep?
I slowly relaxed and lay in the dark with my eyes open.