Zhu Zhuqing could feel it clearly: this power hadn't just amplified her soul strength and physical resilience—it had also granted her something deeper: an intuitive grasp of combat, of the very laws of killing intent.
"What are you thinking about?"
Dai Chengfeng's voice suddenly broke through her thoughts. Startled, Zhu Zhuqing dismissed the violet glow in her palm instantly.
She looked up—and saw him already back, holding a tray.
He'd changed into simple dark loungewear, his hair still slightly damp—clearly having washed up quickly.
"Nothing," Zhu Zhuqing shook her head, eyes drifting to the tray. "That was fast?"
"The kitchen always keeps meals ready," Dai Chengfeng said, setting the tray on the nightstand. "I just reheated it."
On the tray sat a steaming bowl of white congee, several small dishes of delicate side dishes—cucumber salad, stir-fried bamboo shoots, spiced tofu cubes—and a small basket of translucent shrimp dumplings. Beside them stood a cup of warm milk.
"Wasn't sure what you'd like, so I brought a bit of everything." Dai Chengfeng sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the congee bowl. "Here, have some congee first—to warm your stomach."
Zhu Zhuqing reached for the spoon—but he pulled it away.
"I'll feed you."
"I can do it myself…" she protested softly.
"You can," Dai Chengfeng scooped a spoonful, blew gently on it, then held it to her lips. "But I want to."
His gaze was tender, yet unwavering.
After a moment's hesitation, Zhu Zhuqing relented, parting her lips to take the spoon.
The warm congee slid down her throat, carrying the clean fragrance of rice, instantly soothing her stomach.
Dai Chengfeng watched her swallow before taking the next spoonful.
"Want some side dishes?"
"Mm."
He picked up a piece of cucumber salad—crisp, lightly tangy, with a hint of sesame oil—refreshingly appetizing.
Zhu Zhuqing ate slowly as Dai Chengfeng fed her patiently, his movements so natural it seemed he'd done this a thousand times before.
The room filled only with the soft clink of porcelain and quiet chewing.
Morning light brightened, spilling through the window and wrapping them both in a golden halo.
"You should eat too," Zhu Zhuqing said after finishing a shrimp dumpling.
"I already did," Dai Chengfeng smiled—but still popped a dumpling into his mouth.
He wasn't hungry—but he cherished sharing food with her.
"How's the power integration going?" he asked, offering another spoonful of congee.
"Good," Zhu Zhuqing swallowed. "I can feel its strength, but control still needs practice. My soul rank has increased by at least three levels, and my physical condition has improved significantly."
Dai Chengfeng nodded. "That's good."
Soon, he picked up a tofu cube and held it to her lips.
"Try this."
Zhu Zhuqing took a bite—the rich, savory flavor deep and satisfying.
As she chewed, her eyes lingered on his face.
In the morning light, his profile was sharp yet serene—clean jawline, high nose, thin lips set in quiet focus as he watched the spoon in his hand.
This gentle, attentive man was worlds apart from the fierce, domineering prince of Xing Luo she knew on the battlefield.
"What are you looking at?" Dai Chengfeng caught her gaze and turned.
"Nothing." Zhu Zhuqing lowered her lashes, ears tinged pink.
Dai Chengfeng chuckled softly, not pressing further, and continued feeding her.
The congee bowl emptied quickly; most of the side dishes were gone, only two dumplings remained.
"Full?" he asked.
"Mm. Very full." She nodded. Indeed, warmth spread through her stomach, and her fatigue had eased considerably.
Dai Chengfeng finished the last dumplings himself, then lifted the milk cup to her lips.
"Drink some milk."
Zhu Zhuqing sipped from his hand, small, careful sips of warm milk. A drop clung to the corner of her lip.
Dai Chengfeng's eyes darkened. He leaned down and kissed it away.
Zhu Zhuqing stiffened—but didn't pull back.
The kiss was feather-light, fleeting—gone in an instant.
Yet her heart skipped a beat.
"Sweet?" he murmured, voice rough.
"The milk… is sweet," Zhu Zhuqing whispered, eyes darting away.
Dai Chengfeng smiled, set down the cup, and brushed his thumb over her damp lower lip.
"What are your plans for today?" he asked, placing the tray aside.
"Training. Consolidating the power," Zhu Zhuqing replied without hesitation. "Even though you said to rest, I can't delay integration. I want to go to the training chamber."
"I'll go with you," Dai Chengfeng said immediately.
"Don't you have other matters to attend to?" she asked.
"Nothing this morning," he said casually. "I have one thing this afternoon, but it won't take long."
Zhu Zhuqing nodded, not refusing.
With him by her side, she truly felt more at ease.
"Then… I'll freshen up first." She moved to get out of bed—then froze.
She was still wrapped only in the quilt.
Her clothes…
Her face flushed again.
Dai Chengfeng understood. He walked to the wardrobe, opened it, and pulled out a clean set—her usual black training attire, form-fitting and practical.
"Your clothes were cleaned and dried yesterday," he said, placing them on the bed. "Underwear's in the drawer—help yourself."
With that, he headed toward the bathroom. "I'll run a bath for you. Soak for a bit—eases muscle soreness."
Zhu Zhuqing listened to the sound of running water as he stepped inside.
Only then did she throw off the quilt and slip out of bed.
Her legs wobbled the moment her feet touched the carpet—she nearly lost balance.
Gripping the nightstand, she steadied herself, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
At the wardrobe, she opened the drawer. Her undergarments lay neatly folded—fresh, smelling of sunlight and soap.
She picked out a set, gathered the training clothes, hesitated for a second—then walked into the bathroom.
Steam filled the room. Dai Chengfeng had already drawn the bath; the tub's surface floated with dried petals of some unknown flower, releasing a calming fragrance.
"Water's perfect," he tested the temperature, then stood. "Soak for a while. I'll wait outside."
At the door, he glanced back. "Call me if you need help."
"No!" Zhu Zhuqing said quickly, cheeks burning.
Dai Chengfeng laughed and left, closing the door behind him.
Only then did Zhu Zhuqing exhale in relief. She placed her clothes on the rack and stepped into the tub.
Warm water enveloped her instantly, drawing a sigh of pure comfort from her lips.
She sank in until only her face remained above the surface, eyes closed, letting the heat soothe her aching muscles.
The floral scent was subtle, calming.
After about fifteen minutes, her body felt lighter. She rose, dried off, and dressed in the clean outfit.
The black training suit fit perfectly, making her skin appear even fairer.
She towel-dried her hair until damp, tied it loosely at the nape with a ribbon—and finally stepped out.
Dai Chengfeng stood by the window, gazing into the courtyard.
Hearing her, he turned.
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