Chapter 31: I Have No Such Relatives

Yan Kuang had not slept for long, yet his dreams remained vivid and tumultuous. A stifling sensation in his chest jolted him awake, gasping for air.

Another brush with death.

Yan Kuang slowly opened his eyes. Moonlight spilled into the room, and as he turned his head, he saw Cheng Ruyi slumped over the table, fast asleep beside a burnt-out oil lamp.

Yan Kuang threw off the quilt and tested his movement. The Snow Clarity Pill had proven remarkably effective; he managed to get out of bed and walk steadily toward Cheng Ruyi. He reached out, intending to scoop him up and carry him to the bed.

"Hmm...!"

In his sleep, Cheng Ruyi sensed someone approaching and lashed out with a slap. Yan Kuang caught his wrist and pressed it down, then used his other hand to strike a flint and light the lamp.

"It's me," Yan Kuang said.

"Lord Yan...?" Cheng Ruyi rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Oh, it's you. I thought some ruffian had broken in..."

Cheng Ruyi stood up and stretched, eyeing Yan Kuang in the lamplight. "That really is a miracle drug... to bring someone back from the brink, it’s incredible!"

As he spoke, Cheng Ruyi couldn't help but give a thumbs-up, already calculating that if they could mass-produce this pill, he and Yan Kuang would be living on gold bricks for the rest of their lives.

"I owe you my thanks, Mr. Cheng. If not for your intervention, I would be drinking Meng Po’s broth and heading for reincarnation by now."

As Yan Kuang spoke, he reached out to touch the other man’s forehead. Cheng Ruyi dodged reluctantly and put his hands on his hips. "You, once you’re alive, stop thinking about death... There’s no Meng Po broth here, but there are hot dishes and steamed buns. Do you want some?"

"You're still ill yourself," Yan Kuang remarked. "Did you really go out begging for food without even seeing a doctor?"

"..." For a moment, Cheng Ruyi couldn't find the right expression. He thought to himself that Yan Kuang’s sharp tongue must have been picked up from him. It seemed that being a smart-aleck was highly contagious.

"Lord Yan," Cheng Ruyi said earnestly, "you were much more handsome when you were silent... better, and... deeper."

"Mn," Yan Kuang replied. "Go back to the couch and rest."

Having been awake for a while, Cheng Ruyi finally felt the chill. He rubbed his hands together and asked, "How could I do that? You’re still hungry. Besides... I cooked this myself. Won't you show some appreciation, Lord Yan?"

With that, Cheng Ruyi rolled up his sleeves, and the two walked toward the courtyard together. Yan Kuang spoke first:

"You made this?"

"Of course."

"And here I thought you begged for it."

"..."

Cheng Ruyi gave up on his pride. "Oh, yes, you caught me. It’s swill I begged for... don't eat it, don't you dare eat it!"

Amidst their banter, a fire was lit in the small courtyard. The curling smoke rose into the air, reflecting the full moon in a dreamlike haze.

Yan Kuang picked up a soft rice pastry and took a bite. It had cooled down a bit. The outer layer was soft rather than crispy, and the inside was chewy, but he couldn't taste anything at all.

"Good skill, you could open a shop," Yan Kuang said, chewing the pastry and praising him against his true feelings.

Cheng Ruyi raised an eyebrow. "I didn't make this; it was a gift from the lady next door. She said it’s a specialty of Fengzhou. You’ve traveled all over for work—don't tell me you’ve never had it?"

Yan Kuang shook his head. When he thought of his official duties, they were nothing but killing and fighting for his life. He had never had the time to appreciate the local sights, let alone the local cuisine.

"I understand... too busy, right? It’s fine. You’ve resigned, haven't you? You can make up for it slowly in the future."

As he spoke, Cheng Ruyi used a cloth to set the hot dishes and buns on the table. He didn't forget to tease, "Come, come. Simple fare, no wine or meat... that’s all you can buy in a small place like this. I hope you won't turn your nose up at it, my lord..."

"A meal prepared by the hands that wield a brush unrivaled under heaven—I must savor this properly," Yan Kuang joked as he sat down. He reached for his chopsticks, but the wound on his palm had just scabbed over and felt tight, making it difficult to move his hand.

Cheng Ruyi saw this and found it somewhat amusing, but he didn't want to be unkind by laughing, so he held it in. "Lord Yan, let me help..."

"No need." Yan Kuang felt a bit awkward but insisted on picking up a piece of food and putting it into his mouth.

Cheng Ruyi watched with an expectant gaze.

Yan Kuang froze, then picked up another piece and stuffed it into his mouth.

The food was in his mouth... yet Yan Kuang could not taste a thing.

He hadn't tasted the pastry earlier, but he had assumed it was because he hadn't eaten in so long, or perhaps he had eaten too quickly...

As he pondered, he took another bite. Still, nothing.

*Even if I were chewing on leaves or raw meat, there should be some kind of unpleasant taste,* Yan Kuang thought. *But now, the food in my mouth—it’s not that it lacks salt or oil, it’s just... completely devoid of flavor. It’s as if I am chewing on a piece of wet paper.*

No, even paper had a taste.

Yan Kuang quickly grabbed a bun with his fingers and took a bite.

"Wh... what? Is my cooking that bad?"

Seeing Yan Kuang’s furrowed brow, Cheng Ruyi couldn't help but frown as well, thinking that even if it wasn't to his taste, it shouldn't be that bad...

"No, it’s delicious."

Yan Kuang said this while picking up more food, eating the buns with gusto. He even ate too fast and choked.

A King of Hell choking on his food—what a strange sight. Cheng Ruyi reached out to pat Yan Kuang’s back to help him catch his breath, then went into the yard to get the hot water from the stove and poured him a cup.

"Come, come... eat slowly, drink some water..."

Yan Kuang grabbed the bowl and drank, but it was so hot that he spat it all out.

He had the sense of pain, but no sense of taste.

It seemed his body could no longer withstand the strain, and certain functions were beginning to shut down ahead of time.

Yan Kuang looked at the food on his plate in silence.

"I told you to eat slowly... what, were you possessed by a starving ghost?" Cheng Ruyi hurriedly fished a new handkerchief from his pack and handed it over.

Yan Kuang took the handkerchief to wipe his mouth and realized it was the same one he had used to wipe Cheng Ruyi’s mouth at the wonton stall earlier.

Cheng Ruyi spread his hands. "I washed it, I washed it... but it faded a bit from being soaked in the water. I had bought a new one to give you, but I bumped into a little girl on the way back and used the new one to wipe her hands..."

"It’s not necessary; this is enough." Yan Kuang gently stroked the yellow crescent embroidery on the handkerchief, folded it neatly, and tucked it into his robes.

Yan Kuang picked up his chopsticks again to continue eating, appearing to enjoy the meal immensely. After all, one had to eat even without the sense of taste; starving to death was a painful way to go. He had told Cheng Ruyi this before, and he hadn't been lying.

Seeing Yan Kuang wolfing down the food, Cheng Ruyi assumed his culinary skills had been validated. He was so pleased that he began to babble again, "Oh, which young lady gave you that handkerchief? You treasure it like gold, keeping it even though it’s so old... could it be a childhood sweetheart?"

"My mother’s," Yan Kuang said softly, biting into a bun.

"I truly meant no offense to your mother, Lord Yan, please forgive me..."

Cheng Ruyi hurriedly apologized with a sheepish smile, thinking he had picked the wrong person to tease. He felt a bit sour himself. Although Yan Kuang had never mentioned his family, he could guess that he was likely the same as him...

Without a father or mother.

"It’s fine." Without the sense of taste, eating had become a task for survival. Yan Kuang ate heartily, and before long, he had finished the entire plate of vegetables and two buns.

Cheng Ruyi didn't understand why, but assuming his cooking had improved, he watched Yan Kuang eat with such "relish" that he began to feel drowsy while resting his cheek on his hand.

Before he knew it, his eyes closed, and his head started to nod toward the table.

Yan Kuang caught him with lightning speed, the wound on his palm aching from the impact of Cheng Ruyi’s forehead. Yet, the culprit didn't wake up; instead, he fell into an even deeper sleep.

The King of Hell sighed softly and carried the man to the bed.

The high mountains could not hide the moonlight; it was a rare and quiet night.

...

When Cheng Ruyi opened his eyes again, the space beside him was empty once more. He quickly threw on a robe and stepped out, only to hear the King of Hell’s voice calling from outside:

"The sun is already high, Mr. Cheng. You certainly have a talent for sleeping."

"Is... is it? I thought it was still quite early."

Cheng Ruyi wrapped his robe around himself and wandered out, his eyes widening the moment he saw him.

"Lord Yan... can you perform magic?"

Yan Kuang’s hair, which had been a tangled mess like a bird's nest the day before, was now neatly tied in a high ponytail, not a single strand out of place. The pale, sickly complexion from the poison and blood loss had returned to a healthy glow.

He was even wearing the new clothes Cheng Ruyi had bought for him, his wrists wrapped in bandages, and a long sword tucked at his waist. He truly looked like...

Like a wandering swordsman from a stage play? Handsome, dashing, and righteous...

Cheng Ruyi suddenly understood why his mother had been so obsessed with "becoming a concubine." Aside from looking for a way to survive, there was probably a tiny bit of... selfishness?

After all, people were inevitably... seduced by beauty.

"Lord Yan is truly... truly a fine figure. Even common robes cannot hide—"

"You have a sharp tongue." Yan Kuang looked at Cheng Ruyi’s stuttering appearance and walked slowly toward him. He used two fingers from his bandaged hand to catch Cheng Ruyi’s chin.

Yan Kuang feigned a stern look. "You, on the other hand, look like you’re up to no good. I really should interrogate you properly."

"You forgot? You’ve resigned..."

Cheng Ruyi tilted his head, pushing away Yan Kuang’s stiff fingers. "Since your hand is inconvenient, you shouldn't be using it..."

As the words left his mouth, Cheng Ruyi realized something was off. "Wait, how did you tie your hair?"

"The lady next door saw it and kindly tied it for me," Yan Kuang answered honestly.

"That lady is quite enthusiastic... the soft rice pastry from yesterday was a gift from her too." After saying this, Cheng Ruyi untied his own loose hairband, grabbed his hair a few times, and tied it back up haphazardly.

"Let’s go, let’s go out to eat—"

Before Yan Kuang could finish, a shout erupted from the street nearby:

"Help! Robbery!"

"Someone is stealing the rice pastries in the street!"

A figure flashed by, followed by the neighbor lady, who was chasing after them, panting. Before Yan and Cheng could react, the woman saw them in the courtyard and rushed over to ask for help:

"You two gentlemen, that man stole my pastries! Please, help me!"

Before they could respond, there was a commotion ahead. It sounded like someone had knocked over a cart, and in the ensuing chaos, a loud, arrogant voice could be heard shouting:

"How dare you touch me! I am the Han..."

The crowd began to shout and condemn him, and the man’s voice was drowned out. Yan Kuang frowned.

Cheng Ruyi didn't know the specifics, but seeing the grim expression on the King of Hell’s face, he knew something was amiss.

"Lord Yan? Should we go see what the commotion is about?" Cheng Ruyi asked.

Yan Kuang showed a rare moment of hesitation. Just then, a villager shouted loudly: "Beat him! Beat him until his own mother wouldn't recognize him, then send him to the magistrate!"

"Let’s go take a look." Yan Kuang pushed open the wicker gate and stepped forward quickly, with Cheng Ruyi jogging along behind him.

The crowd was packed tight. Cheng Ruyi stood on his tiptoes but couldn't see a thing. Fortunately, Yan Kuang was tall and caught sight of the situation inside immediately.

A disheveled man was surrounded in the center, a vegetable cart overturned on the ground. The man still maintained an arrogant air, and even as the villagers pointed and cursed, he lashed back with sharp but futile words, refusing to lose his dignity even as he lost the fight.