Fei Jin understood immediately. His expression turned serious as he nodded. "Alright, I'll do as you say."
A moment later, Cheng Peng came rushing back, panting for breath. He was holding a small, dark earthenware pot in one hand and a neatly folded, gray-green soldier's uniform in the other.
He handed the items to Song Qingya, then consciously retreated to the courtyard entrance, turning his back to them and standing guard resolutely.
Only the two of them remained in the courtyard.
"Close your eyes."
Song Qingya said softly, her expression earnest, as if she were undertaking a critical mission.
She picked up the pot of soot, dabbed her fingers in the black ash, and began to smear it onto his face, bit by bit.
With a few quick strokes, Fei Jin's handsome face was covered in grayish-black marks. She added two grimy streaks to his cheeks, and he instantly looked travel-worn and weary.
Cheng Peng, bored while waiting outside, peeked through a crack in the window.
