Apology, Not Mockery

He squinted and smiled for a while, but when he saw He Zhuoming still wearing that silly, dazed expression, Tang Shuyu's smile faded slightly. The hand that had been pushing hers away quickly shifted into an intimate interlocking of fingers.

Tang Shuyu asked with a hint of confusion, "What's wrong with you?"

He Zhuoming blinked slowly, her gaze traveling down to his shoulder. His movements were fluid and flexible, and the skin on his neck she had just touched was indeed smooth and clean—so smooth it was as if his head had never fallen off at all.

Yet He Zhuoming knew it had fallen off. In fact, the image of Tang Shuyu's head rolling around in the grass resurfaced in her mind.

Perhaps it was because she'd been exposed to too many live-action horror scenes, or maybe her brain was still too foggy from sleep—though her mind replayed those terrifying images, she didn't feel particularly scared, just a numbing sensation in her head.

She tried to pull her captured hand free, but Tang Shuyu didn't let go, holding on tightly.

He Zhuoming said, "Let go first."

Tang Shuyu grinned and refused, "No—I want to hold on. Are you angry?"

He would act spoiled without any psychological barrier, speaking sweet words while being physically forceful. He simply wouldn't release her no matter what. He Zhuoming shook her arm twice but found she couldn't shake off his grip.

She looked down and tried to pry his fingers off, but Tang Shuyu pretended to shout, "Ouch, ouch—"

He Zhuoming immediately stopped when she heard him cry out, but she still defended herself, saying, "I didn't even use any strength."

Tang Shuyu said, "Because I just put myself back together, so I'm still fragile. Xiao He, you should take care of me!"

As he spoke, he pulled He Zhuoming to her feet and retrieved his outer robe, draping it over his arm.

His gaze swept over the branch she was still clutching. It was clearly a branch of crabapple, with green leaves and vivid red blossoms complementing each other. The red crabapples on the branch were the same as those on the hilt of the Wuyi Sword.

He Zhuoming stubbornly tried again to pull her hand away—but Tang Shuyu averted his gaze and said in a casual tone, "You must be hungry. I know a great restaurant. Let's go."

He Zhuoming looked around. The river rushed on one side, wild grass grew thick and vast, and the setting sun cast a golden-red glow over the weeds.

The scenery was beautiful, but the surroundings were desolate—not a single restaurant in sight, let alone any sign of human habitation.

He Zhuoming was hungry, so she couldn't help asking, "How long until we get there?"

Tang Shuyu: "We'll be there soon!"

He Zhuoming gave a dull "Oh," pouted, and followed behind Tang Shuyu with a sullen expression, using the branch to poke at the grass beside her.

That branch was oddly... tough? Sturdy?

He Zhuoming's thoughts drifted for a moment, unable to find the right adjective—but the branch was indeed resilient. She'd been using it as a walking stick, stabbing it into the ground all this way, and not a single petal had fallen off.

He Zhuoming asked Tang Shuyu, "Although it looks like a branch, since it was broken off from your chest, does that make it one of your bones?"

Tang Shuyu glanced back, then quickly turned his head forward and said, "No, but it's more durable than a wooden sword. If you like, you can keep it as a sword."

He Zhuoming held the branch in one hand and tried a sword flourish. The tip swept lightly through the grass, effortlessly cutting it in half, revealing a sharpness no ordinary branch should possess.

She'd originally thought about poking Tang Shuyu with the branch, but after witnessing its sharpness, she promptly abandoned that idea.

She was only a little annoyed with Tang Shuyu, not out to kill him.

Tang Shuyu had actually told the truth this time. After walking only a short distance, they reached a populated area, and as they followed the main road, the streets grew more bustling, with more pedestrians around.

Having spent so long in the Divine Palace, He Zhuoming felt a surge of energy upon returning to a normal crowd—even if it was an ancient one. It briefly lifted her spirits and distracted her from her worries, making her curiously look around.

Vendors lined both sides of the street. Tang Shuyu slowed his pace and said, "If you like anything, you can go take a look."

He glanced at He Zhuoming's hair and said in a disdainful tone, "Your braids are so ugly. We'll find someone to redo them for you later."

He Zhuoming: "You braided them."

Tang Shuyu nodded but didn't retract his words. "If I braided them like that, I must have been out of my mind at the time."

He Zhuoming looked at him in confusion—Tang Shuyu smiled and smoothly made up a story: "I'm someone who is good at self-reflection and reform. I always acknowledge my mistakes and correct them without hesitation, and I'm not stingy when it comes to criticizing myself."

He Zhuoming: "Really?"

Tang Shuyu: "Of course it's true. Why would I lie to you?"

If he hadn't said that, she wouldn't have remembered the words he'd confessed last night.

He Zhuoming pulled her hand back with force. She acted so suddenly that Tang Shuyu, caught off guard, let her slip away.

His palm suddenly felt empty. Tang Shuyu looked at his own hand, puzzled, then simply reached out again, trying to take He Zhuoming's hand.

But He Zhuoming clasped both hands behind her back, holding her own hands, leaving Tang Shuyu no opening.

She said sternly, "Lead the way. Why are you just standing there? I want to eat."

When Tang Shuyu saw he couldn't hold her hand, he raised an eyebrow, casually hooked his arm around He Zhuoming's elbow instead. She hadn't expected this move, and being shorter than him, she stumbled a step, her body swaying.

But because his arm held her steady, He Zhuoming didn't fall in the end.

Tang Shuyu said in a light tone, "Xiao He, you need to watch where you're going, or you might easily trip."

He Zhuoming retorted coldly, "It's your fault for hooking my arm that I stumbled. If you hadn't, nothing would have happened."

Tang Shuyu mimicked her tone, "It's because Xiao He wouldn't let me hold her hand that I hooked her arm. If she'd let me hold her hand, nothing would have happened."

He Zhuoming said angrily, "I don't want to hold your hand, so I won't. And stop imitating me!"

The moment she finished, Tang Shuyu burst out laughing. Seeing him laugh only made He Zhuoming inexplicably angrier, and she tilted her head to glare at him.

This time, Tang Shuyu had the sense to release her arm and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not mocking you, okay? I was just thinking of something funny."

That was the truth.

Tang Shuyu could simply flip through the puppet's memories and find countless moments where the puppet imitated He Zhuoming's way of speaking.

Even aside from the puppet, Tang Shuyu himself often imitated He Zhuoming's speech. But this was the first time He Zhuoming had actually noticed him doing it—Tang Shuyu just thought it was silly and amusing.

Clearly, He Zhuoming hadn't guessed what he was thinking.

Actually, she hadn't guessed at all.

She just thought Tang Shuyu was spouting nonsense again, so for the rest of the walk, she ignored him. Whatever he said beside her, she responded with a cold snort.

After winding through many streets, they finally reached a restaurant.

The waiter came out, saw they were new customers, and instinctively sized up their clothes. Then he broke into a smile and led them in with great enthusiasm.

Tang Shuyu reserved a private room on the second floor and ordered every house specialty on the menu. He Zhuoming propped the branch against the table, wanting to see what he'd ordered, but not wanting to talk to him, so she folded her arms and leaned by the window, watching the bustling crowd below.

Soon the dishes arrived, filling the table with a feast for the eyes and nose.

He Zhuoming, upholding the principle that anger shouldn't stop one from eating, rolled up her sleeves, sat down, and began eating with a cold face—she was determined not to smile at Tang Shuyu until he apologized.

But he'd ordered way too much, and since he wasn't eating, she only managed to finish half before she was tired and couldn't eat anymore.

Tang Shuyu was still remarking, "Xiao He, I've always known you had a good appetite, but I didn't expect it to be this good."

He reached out and pinched her plump cheek, saying sincerely, "At this rate, even after thirty, you'll still have baby fat..."

He Zhuoming slapped his hand sharply, annoyed. "Who told you to order so much! It's such a waste if we can't finish it!"

Tang Shuyu rubbed his tingling hand, feeling a bit miffed. "If we can't finish it, we'll just throw it away. What's the big deal... Xiao He, has your cultivation advanced again?"

He felt that He Zhuoming's slap just now had been much harder than a few days ago.

Could Xiao He really be a genius?

Tang Shuyu was doubtful, staring at He Zhuoming. But in his eyes, mortal cultivation levels, whether one or nine, looked almost the same. And lacking experience in normal cultivation progression, he hadn't even memorized the levels mortals used to distinguish them. So no matter how he looked, he couldn't determine where He Zhuoming's cultivation now stood.

He Zhuoming had eaten and drunk her fill, but she didn't immediately recover her spirits.

She'd eaten too much and was now drowsy from carb overload, feeling sleepy and still unwilling to talk to Tang Shuyu. She found the recliner in the private room, lay down, and fell asleep from exhaustion.

This time, the sleeping environment was both safe and comfortable, and the room was even scented with calming incense. He Zhuoming finally got a long, peaceful sleep.

When she woke up naturally and opened her eyes, it was already night.

The room was unlit, but the windows were open, and bright moonlight streamed in, bathing the entire room in a hazy, ethereal glow.

He Zhuoming squinted groggily for a moment, and Tang Shuyu's handsome face came into view.

His face was also bathed in moonlight, smiling warmly—he was sitting by the rocking chair, braiding He Zhuoming's hair.

He Zhuoming found it inexplicable. "What are you doing?"

Tang Shuyu: "Isn't it obvious? I'm braiding your hair. It's done!"

He was very proud—because this was the first time Tang Shuyu had ever fixed someone's hair by hand. No matter the result, he'd always be proud of it.

He picked up a bronze mirror from the side cabinet and held it in front of He Zhuoming, as if seeking praise. "Look!"

He Zhuoming half-sat up and leaned over to look into the mirror: two braids again, even more poorly done than last time, but with many sparkling jewels pinned to her head.

Her head was loaded with pearls and jade, and under the moonlight they gleamed and sparkled, like a kaleidoscope spinning.

He Zhuoming's mouth fell open in shock, momentarily forgetting she was still angry with Tang Shuyu.

She reached up and touched her head, finally pulling out a pearl comb from the crowded strands, and said in confusion, "Where did you get all these..."

Tang Shuyu propped his face on one hand, his eyes narrowing into a smile. "They're my own private stash. Pretty, aren't they?"

He Zhuoming: "Mm, they're pretty—all shiny. But they're so heavy. And your braids are just as ugly as last time..."

Tang Shuyu: "How could they be the same as last time!"

He was greatly displeased and cupped He Zhuoming's head to straighten it. "Take a good, careful look—see how neat and symmetrical my braids are. Not a single strand of flyaway hair left out."

He Zhuoming: "That's why my bangs are gone!"

Tang Shuyu: "What bangs?"

He Zhuoming gestured at her forehead and temples in the mirror, angry. "The flyaway hairs I deliberately left here!"

Tang Shuyu said matter-of-factly, "Flyaways ruin the look. Pulling them all back is much nicer..."

Before he could finish, He Zhuoming shoved his hand away and tossed the removed jewelry into his arms.

Her brain, which had been foggy from sleep, was now fully alert with anger—not just because Tang Shuyu had messed up her hair, but also because of all the nonsense he'd spoken earlier.

It was a double dose of old and new grievances.

He Zhuoming snatched the mirror from Tang Shuyu's hand, turned her back to him, and started removing the hair ornaments one by one. As for the two crooked braids, she took those down as well.

Tang Shuyu didn't give up and leaned in closer. "Fine, if you don't like the ornaments, forget it. But my braids should still be acceptable—why did you have to take those out too? I spent a long time on them."

"Yesterday's braid was uglier, and you didn't take that one out. Why take today's out? Did you prefer the last one?"

He Zhuoming couldn't find a comb, so she was using her fingers instead. She wasn't very good at styling hair, and it was getting frustrating, especially with Tang Shuyu babbling on beside her.

Frustrated, He Zhuoming grabbed an ornament and shoved it into his mouth. "Shut up! You're so noisy! Can't you be quiet for a moment?"

"I didn't like either of them! Because they were both equally ugly!"

Tang Shuyu spat out the jade hibiscus hairpin and said with conviction, "You're just saying that in anger—I don't believe it. I definitely did better this time."

He Zhuoming retorted coldly, "No. Both were ugly."

Tang Shuyu: "That's impossible!"

He Zhuoming: "Both ugly."

Tang Shuyu: "That's impossible!"

He Zhuoming covered her ears and shouted, "Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly!"

Her resolve was firm. Even someone as confident as Tang Shuyu couldn't help but listen to her thoughts.

And he found that what He Zhuoming was thinking was also "ugly,"

And also that he was annoying and talked too much.

How could this be!

Tang Shuyu was deeply crushed. He stopped talking, stopped smiling, and listlessly slumped to the side, tilting his head to watch He Zhuoming clumsily comb her hair.

She used a hair tie to make two simple low ponytails and then carefully smoothed her bangs.

Finally, rummaging through the pile of removed ornaments, she picked out two soft, lustrous jade flowers and pinned them into her hair.

With her hair pulled back, exposing her neck, He Zhuoming felt much cooler.

Her body was cool, the food had digested, and she was well rested—her mood improved a bit. She turned to look at Tang Shuyu, wondering what he was up to.

Tang Shuyu was lying on the cabinet nearby, staring at He Zhuoming with a melancholy expression.

Under normal circumstances, Tang Shuyu would never admit he was outclassed. But now, the hair Xiao He had styled really did seem prettier than his own.

Their eyes met, and Tang Shuyu's brows drooped pitifully, hoping He Zhuoming would come over and say something comforting—the act of playing pitiful was evidently effective, because after staring at him for a moment, He Zhuoming actually dragged her chair over to sit in front of Tang Shuyu.

Tang Shuyu's spirits lifted, and he perked up his ears, ready to listen carefully to how Xiao He would console him.

Xiao He was a bit clumsy, and if her words weren't quite right, that was fine. After all, there were plenty of eloquent people in the world; as long as Xiao He had the heart to comfort him, that was enough...

He Zhuoming said seriously, "Tang Shuyu, why haven't you apologized to me yet?"

Tang Shuyu: "?"