Cheng Yang cleared his throat and began softly, his voice calm under the moonlight.
"There was once an ancient kingdom," he said, "where the king was betrayed by the woman he loved. His heart turned to ice. Out of hatred, he took revenge on every woman in his realm. Each day, he married a new bride, and by dawn, she was executed."
Bing Di listened quietly, the flicker of curiosity in her emerald eyes betraying her cold expression.
"The king's cruelty threw the nation into fear," Cheng Yang continued.
"Then, one young woman stepped forward. She offered herself to be his next bride, not out of love, but to end the killing. That night, instead of begging for her life, she began telling a story. A story so captivating that when dawn came, the king spared her just to hear its end."
He smiled faintly.
"But the next night, she started another story, and stopped again at dawn. Again, he spared her. This went on for one thousand and one nights. In time, her tales melted the king's hatred. He fell in love with her… and ended his vengeance."
Cheng Yang rubbed his neck awkwardly.
"I don't remember it word for word. But the meaning stuck with me."
He turned toward Bing Di, eyes gleaming.
"You know, I was thinking… I'm a bit like that girl. Except I don't have wonderful stories. I only have small things to make your life better, until maybe you can't imagine living without me. That way…"
He chuckled, stepping back, "You won't want to eat me."
Before Bing Di could react, Cheng Yang darted away, laughing.
"You dare call me that cruel king!?" she shouted, chasing after him with a playful glare.
They didn't use soul power, just their legs, their laughter echoing through the bamboo grove.
Bing Di lunged; Cheng Yang dodged.
Eventually, they both stumbled into the bamboo rocking chair, breathless, tangled together, and laughing so hard it hurt.
"If life keeps feeling this nice," Bing Di said, her laughter softening into a smile, "maybe I really will give up eating you."
Cheng Yang grinned, brushing sweat from his brow.
"Nice? This? I've just made some iced fruit, learned two more ways to stir-fry, and built a water-cooled air system using groundwater. You call that luxury? We have no electricity, no internet, no mobile phones, not even a game console! When the nights get long, all I can do is hold you and count stars. I'm far from satisfied."
Bing Di lowered her gaze.
"But… It's only ten thousand years," she whispered.
"That's still the future," he said gently.
"If you want to extend our agreement, then we'll talk. Ten thousand years of life together, for a human, that's already a miracle. Humans value life because it ends. That's what makes it beautiful."
She nodded slowly. Just a few days with him had given her more warmth than centuries in the frozen north ever had.
"I'm really happy… being with you," she murmured, burying her face against his chest.
"Will we always stay together? I swear, I won't think of eating you again."
Cheng Yang blinked, caught off guard.
Are we… officially something now?
He smiled despite himself.
"Alright. Deal. I'm not going anywhere."
"Pinky Promise?" she said, raising a pinky.
"Pinky Promise." He wrapped his around hers.
"Swear to die."
"Swear to die," he echoed.
For a while, they stayed like that, two unlikely souls sharing quiet laughter under the starlight.
Then Cheng Yang's expression turned more serious.
"Bing Di," he said, standing up and helping her to her feet.
"There's something I've been hiding from you."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but not with anger.
"Oh? What now?"
He led her to the backyard.
From a pile of metal scraps, he pulled out an iron tube with a wooden handle, then tore open a paper packet with his teeth.
The faint scent of sulfur spread through the air.
"This," he explained, "is called black powder."
He poured it into the barrel, pressed in a conical lead shot, and packed it tight with a rod.
"A smooth-bore flintlock. One of the simplest firearms."
Lifting the gun, he faced her.
"Be ready, a metal projectile will come out fast. Defend yourself."
Bing Di tilted her head.
"You think this human toy can hurt me?"
"Not really," Cheng Yang admitted.
"But it's worth seeing."
He pulled the trigger. The spark flashed, and a sharp crack split the air.
The lead bullet zipped toward Bing Di, and she caught it effortlessly between her fingers.
Steam rose from the bullet, glowing faint red from friction.
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"That's it? I thought you were hiding some devastating weapon. Any Soul Master above four rings could shrug that off. Even surprised, it wouldn't kill one past six rings."
Cheng Yang laughed, lowering the gun.
"You're right. It's weak now, fires one bullet at a time, and takes half a minute to reload. But…"
He paused, eyes glinting with quiet ambition.
"It's only the beginning."
Bing Di gave him a curious look.
"You humans always say that before something explodes."
Bing Di's eyebrows rose.
"You mean you want power to… rule?"
"Not to rule," Cheng Yang said quickly.
He put the gun down and leaned on the table, palms flat on the worn wood.
The lamplight painted the ridges of his hands.
"If someone tries to take our spirit rings ten thousand years from now, if anyone tries to steal what we hold dear, then I want to make sure I don't have to bargain with a blade I can't match. I want a choice, Bing Di. I want to protect what matters."
His voice softened.
"That's why I tinker."
Bing Di turned the bullet between her fingers, watching the smoke curl away.
Her face, usually an expressionless mask of frost, softened in a way Cheng Yang found both infuriating and irresistible.
"So this was all made to stop me when I asked for the marrow?"
Cheng Yang's smile tightened.
"Originally? Maybe. I won't hide it from you. When you told me about Profound Ice Marrow… I realized how powerless I would be. I thought, if I can't stop fate, then I might lose you to it. So I prepared ways to bargain, to deflect. To survive."
He tracked her eyes and saw something shift, hurt, perhaps; a small flare of betrayal.
Bing Di snapped the bullet between two fingers and tossed it back to him, not unkindly.
"You should have told me earlier."
"I know." He caught the lead, thumb flattening the dent made by her grip.
"I wanted it to be a surprise. And because I also wanted to learn how to make things better with you, little comforts, small inventions, so you'd want to stay. It's childish, I know. But it's honest."
He looked up at her, earnest like a boy asking for a second chance.
She studied him for a long time. Then she smiled, small, reluctant, real.
"You human fools are stubborn. Fine. But if you're going to build an army of metal and fire, you have to be smart about it. Power without brains breaks quickly."
Her tone sharpened into something instructive, the way she would reprimand a trainee who wasted an opening.
Cheng Yang brightened.
"Teach me then. Tell me what to do if we face someone stronger than me. Show me how to make one small weapon suddenly useful in a fight against a larger foe."
Bing Di's eyes gleamed.
"Alright. First rule: you never rely only on a single strike. A flintlock's one loud noise can scare an enemy, but it won't win you a duel. Use it to shape the battlefield, create openings, force them to move into your advantage. Second rule: pair it with the environment. A narrow pass, a hidden pit, boiling oil, humans always forget old tricks. Third: teamwork. Your gun and my ice can make a chain of effects."
She mimed a scenario with quick, precise gestures: the crack of a shot, a distracted guard stumbling, the ground slicked with her ice, a second shot driving the opponent off balance. Cheng Yang watched, his mind already turning gears.
He pictured traps, decoys, misdirection, how a slow weapon could be deadly if it were the second domino in a carefully arranged fall.
"Okay," he said at last, his excitement building.
"Show me the practice drill."
They spent the rest of the night in small experiments that were more like games: Cheng Yang set up tin cans, ropes, and a fresh patch of frozen earth; Bing Di practiced releasing thin sheets of sheen ice at remote triggers; he learned how to time a shot to punch a gap where her ice would do the rest.
Each misfire was met with laughter, each successful trick with a shared, satisfied silence.
From Cheng Yang's perspective, the night was education and confession braided together; he was teaching her how to survive alongside human ingenuity, while she taught him how to think like a soldier of the heart, not just a tinkerer in the dark.
From Bing Di's point of view, Cheng Yang was no longer merely a novelty; he was someone stubborn enough to learn, clumsy enough to fail, and humane enough to care.
That mixture was dangerous in the best way.
When the moon dipped low, and the embers of their fires went pale, Bing Di tucked herself into the crook of Cheng Yang's arm and said, almost sleepily.
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