Transmigrating into the world of Jade Dynasty, I was targeted by the female lead in a reverse romanc

"What is candied hawthorn?" she asked.

"Hawthorns are strung together, coated with syrup, and taste sweet and sour."

"Is it tasty?"

"tasty."

"You cook for me."

"I won't."

"Then you learn it."

"..."

"Fine," she pouted, "I won't make things difficult for you. You've even overcooked sweet potatoes, let alone made candied hawthorns."

Jiang Xiaochuan: "..."

But one day, Jiang Xiaochuan actually managed to get some hawthorns.

He didn't know where he found it; there were no hawthorn trees in the Wu tribe's territory, so he probably used some method to get it from outside.

He washed the hawthorns clean, skewered them with bamboo sticks, boiled syrup, and coated them with the syrup.

It didn't look good. The sugar coating was uneven, some parts were too thick and some parts were too thin, and a few hawthorns were even punctured.

But when he presented it to Linglong, she was stunned.

"Did you do this?" she asked.

"Um."

"Didn't you say you couldn't?"

"I've learned it," Jiang Xiaochuan said expressionlessly. "It's not difficult."

Linglong picked up one and took a bite.

The sugar was a little burnt and bitter, and the hawthorn was a little sour.

She chewed it and swallowed it.

"Is it good?" Jiang Xiaochuan asked.

Linglong didn't answer. She lowered her head, looking at the crooked candied hawthorn in her hand, tears falling drop by drop onto it.

"What's wrong?" Jiang Xiaochuan asked, a little flustered. "If it doesn't taste good, then don't eat it. Don't cry."

"It's delicious," Linglong looked up, her face covered in tears, but she was smiling. "Jiang Xiaochuan, it's delicious. This is the best thing I've ever eaten."

Jiang Xiaochuan watched her cry, watched her laugh, watched her eat the burnt candied hawthorn with tears streaming down her face.

That part of his heart was getting hotter and hotter.

……

One night in the fourth year, Jiang Xiaochuan was awakened by a low sobbing sound.

He lived not far from Linglong's house.

Since Linglong stopped locking him up, he moved to a side room next door. The two of them were separated by a wall, and in the quiet of the night, they could even hear each other turning over.

He put on a coat and walked to the Linglong Gate. The gate wasn't closed properly, leaving a crack.

He peered through the crack.

Linglong curled up on the bed, hugging the blanket, her shoulders heaving as she cried. She cried in a suppressed manner, burying her face in the pillow, her voice muffled, as if afraid of being heard.

Jiang Xiaochuan hesitated for a moment, then gently knocked on the door frame.

"exquisite?"

The crying stopped abruptly, and after a while, Linglong's hoarse voice came: "Come in."

He pushed the door open and went in.

The room was dark, and moonlight shone through the cracks in the window, drawing a thin white line on the floor. Linglong sat on the bed, leaning against the wall, her face still wet with tears, her eyes red and swollen.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Jiang Xiaochuan asked.

Linglong shook her head, then nodded.

"I dreamt about my mother," she said softly.

"I dreamt that when she was being burned, she called my name, begging me to save her, but I couldn't move. I just stood there watching her burn, watching her skin turn black, her hair burn to ash, her mouth opening and closing as she called my name..."

She couldn't continue.

Jiang Xiaochuan had heard Linglong say that her mother was also a witch, who ran away with a man and was later burned alive in front of the altar.

Jiang Xiaochuan sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn't know how to comfort people; he seemed to never know how.

When Xiao Bai cried before—no, Xiao Bai never cried, it was Bi Yao—what did he do in the Dripping Blood Cave? It seems he stayed with her.

He thought for a moment, then reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"That's not your fault," he said.

"How old were you then? Three? Four? What could you do?"

"But I didn't do anything," Linglong said.

"I didn't even cry for her. When she died, I stood under the altar and didn't shed a single tear. People around me praised me, saying I was calm and had the demeanor of a priestess. I was happy at the time because I was praised."

She covered her face, tears seeping through her fingers.

"Why should I be happy? That's my mother."

Jiang Xiaochuan's hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment, then he patted it gently.

“You were too young to understand then,” he said. “Now you understand, so it’s not too late for you to cry.”

Linglong looked up at him.

The moonlight shone on his face, his expression was calm, and there was something indescribable in his eyes, like understanding or pity.

"Jiang Xiaochuan," she suddenly said, "why are you so good to me?"

Jiang Xiaochuan was stunned for a moment.

"I wasn't good to you."

“You do,” Linglong said. “You help me gather herbs, cook for me, listen to my complaints, and watch me lose my temper. You never complain. After my mother died, no one has ever been so good to me.”

Jiang Xiaochuan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know what to say.

"You're not being nice to me," he finally said, "you've never been nice to anyone before."

Linglong looked at him, and tears fell again.

That night, she cried for a long time beside Jiang Xiaochuan.

Jiang Xiaochuan didn't leave; he just sat there, letting her lean on his shoulder. She cried herself to sleep, and even in her sleep, she was still clutching his sleeve, unwilling to let go.

Jiang Xiaochuan looked out the window at the sky gradually turning white and let out a long sigh.

……

Linglong also talked to him about the witch goddess.

"Actually, I don't want to be one," she said once, her voice very soft.

"I want to go out and see the world. I've heard there are seas, deserts, high mountains, and lots and lots of people outside. But I can't go. I have to stay here for the rest of my life, serving the witch god and leading the witch tribe until I die."

Jiang Xiaochuan listened without saying a word.

"Don't you want to say anything?" she asked.

"What did you say?"

"To be honest, there's not much good out there," she said.

"People say that too many people will cause trouble, that the sea will drown people, and that the desert will kill people with thirst."

Jiang Xiaochuan thought for a moment.

"There's really nothing good out there," he said.

"But it's not that bad. The sea is vast and blue, and looking at it makes you feel open-minded. The desert is hot, but there are oases, water, and trees. Too many people can be troublesome, but there are also lively times. During festivals, the streets are decorated with lanterns and colorful decorations, children run around, and adults drink and play drinking games, which is quite interesting."

Linglong looked at him, her eyes shining.

"Have you been there?"

"I've been there."

"Well..." she hesitated for a moment, "could you take me to see it sometime?"

Jiang Xiaochuan fell silent.

The light in Linglong's eyes dimmed, and she turned her face away to look out the window.

"Never mind," she said, "pretend I didn't say anything."

From then on, she stopped talking about wanting to go out.

She continued to do the same things every day, except occasionally, Jiang Xiaochuan would see her sitting by the window, gazing at the mountains outside, looking into the distance, for half a day at a time.

He knew what she was looking at.

But he couldn't say it.

Because he is not a person of this era.

He will have to go back sooner or later, back to his era, back to Xiaobai's side, back to Qingyun, back to...

The thought of her made his heart ache.

What is that girl doing now? Is she still in seclusion at Qingyun Temple? Or has she already emerged and is searching for him all over the world?

He dared not think.

……