Within Jian Zhi’s Xīnyù, in the stark silence following the seed’s failure, Wǎn Lù’s face fell into a mask of profound disappointment.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) "Just as I feared. His soul isn’t just arid; it’s actively hostile, rejecting and vaporising the water. Sigh… And I’m already drained from pouring so much of my aura into forming that tiny seed. I need rest. A full recovery before we can even attempt this again." She turned to deliver this verdict, only to find he had already processed the situation.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Your energy signature has dropped significantly. You require rest. We will reconvene tonight, after you have recovered." His assessment was flat, devoid of sympathy, yet undeniably factual.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) *"*[Her eyes widened slightly] He’s… not demanding immediate continuation? He actually acknowledged the need for recovery. Does he possess a sliver of consideration? Or is this just another layer of his calculations? Tch… Stay vigilant, Wǎn Lù. Guard your energy and your judgment." They withdrew from his inner world.

  Back in his chambers, Wǎn Lù opened the door and trudged into the hallway, her shoulders slumped with a weariness that was both spiritual and physical.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Princess." His voice halted her. She turned, an expression of pure irritation on her tired face. "Follow me."

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) *"He already drained my aura on his barren soul, and now what? I just want my bed. Sigh… Fine."* She trailed after him, muttering under her breath, until he pushed open the door to the palace kitchens.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) *"Why are we *here*? Oh… does he think I need food? Sorry to disappoint, Mr Deadeyes, I’m too tired to eat. [A flicker of amusement] Though, if you *are* about to feed me… that’s unexpectedly… decent. Even if your motives are inscrutable."* Her internal monologue cut short as Jian Zhi took a clean apron and tied it around his waist with practised efficiency. Her eyes went wide, confusion and a strange, anxious curiosity warring within her.

  Jian Zhi moved with methodical purpose, opening clay storage bowls. Lamb, beef, venison… his gaze flicked between them, calculations running behind his eyes. He took a final, assessing look at her pale complexion before making his selection. He retrieved a fresh bowl and placed a raw, crimson piece of beef liver within it. One precise spoon of salt, another of golden turmeric. He washed his hands and massaged the spices into the meat, the motion clinical yet thorough, before rinsing it to strip away the metallic blood-scent. He then gathered mushrooms, onions, ginger, garlic, and a handful of deep green spinach.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) "Can I trust anything he makes? Liver? With turmeric? I’ve had it once back home—grilled. It tasted like softened, creamy metal. I shouldn’t underestimate him, but… I’ll reserve judgment." She watched, silent, as he chopped the mushrooms into substantial, flavour-holding pieces, ground the ginger and garlic into a fragrant paste, and diced the onion.

  At the stove, he placed a heavy iron pan over the flame. When it was just hot enough, he didn’t reach for oil. Instead, he added a spoonful of white, cloudy beef tallow—rendered kidney fat. It melted instantly, releasing a rich, nutty, golden aroma that filled the kitchen. The onions hit the fat with a satisfying sizzle, and he sautéed them until they turned a perfect, translucent gold, their caramelising sweetness mingling with the profound depth of the tallow.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) "Uhm… It’s just onions. But that smell… [Her stomach gave a traitorous, quiet growl] It already smells incredible. My mouth is actually watering. Alright, Mr Deadeyes. You’ve set the expectation. Do not disappoint me now."

  He added the ginger-garlic paste and the mushrooms, stirring until the fungi released their juices and browned, soaking up the foundational flavours. Then came the cubed liver, hitting the hot surface with a fierce sear. A dusting of chilli powder, salt, and more turmeric followed. He stirred the vibrant, sizzling mixture for exactly two minutes before tossing in the spinach and a squeeze of bright lemon juice. One final, vigorous stir, and he pulled the pan from the heat.

  He served her a bowl of steaming rice and a soft, pliable flatbread made from a blend of rice and wheat flour, then ladled the rich, dark stir-fry beside it.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Your physiological cues indicated nutritional depletion and caloric need. Providing sustenance is the logical method to expedite your recovery. Consume this. It is optimised for both nutrient density and palatability. We will make a second attempt tonight during the Hour of the Ox, and consult my mother regarding the initial failure." She simply nodded, her attention captured by the vibrant dish. Picking up her chopsticks, she took a portion of the stir-fry, its spicy, savoury scent finally overwhelming her. She placed it slowly on her tongue, which had been secretly watering throughout his entire performance.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Mmmm… [Her eyes closed in genuine, stunned bliss] *Whoa*. Can you actually cook *this* well? Mmmm… this is the best liver I’ve ever tasted. It’s so soft, almost creamy, but with this earthy chew from the mushrooms, and the little crunch of spinach… and the spice is perfect. Consider this meal a down payment. I’ll repay you tonight with a successful treatment. [She gave a thumbs-up and a warm, grateful smile, then caught his unchanged, impassive expression.] Oh, I-I mean… the dish is excellent. And I will fulfil my part of our agreement tonight. [She quickly returned to eating, slightly flustered.]"

  [Jian Zhi]: "The outcome was predictable. With correct variables and procedure, replication of flavour and texture is guaranteed. Even you could achieve this result. And your performance tonight is not a favour; it is a contractual obligation per our pact."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "'Even me'? What is *that* supposed to mean? Hey, are you implying I’m a bad cook? [The reality of arguing with him while exhausted dawned on her] …Never mind. I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll eat and rest." After finishing the meal, a comforting warmth spreading through her tired body, she retired to her chambers. Jian Zhi returned to his study, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper to begin detailed calculations for the Earth Dragon locomotive route from the Divine Land of Justice to the northern province—and ultimately the capital—of the Azure Mandate Empire. He became so absorbed in the logistical puzzle that he lost all track of time.

  [Jian Zhi]: (Internal Monologue) "The Hour of the Ox approaches its zenith. Inefficient. I will retrieve her. The most logical and discreet point of entry remains her window."

  He slipped out of his own window and crossed the short distance through the cool night air in a swift, silent flight. In her room, the Phoenix Princess was deep in sleep, her features softened and serene in the moonlight. The gentle night breeze whispered through the window, playing with strands of her hair. Jian Zhi landed without a sound and stood immobile beside her bed.

  [Jian Zhi]: "[His voice was a cold, commanding blade in the quiet room] Wake up, Princess. Wake. Up." The sudden, sharp sound jolted her violently from sleep.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Aish! [She startled upright, clutching the blankets] Ahhh! You idiotic, inconsiderate brat! You peeping Tom! Who permitted you to break into my room while I’m sleeping? Get out! Now! [Her voice was thick with sleep and fury]"

  [Jian Zhi]: "The optimal window for the procedure is closing. Entry via the window preserved operational secrecy as stipulated in our pact. Come. We are departing." Without allowing her a moment to protest or even fully wake, he extended his will and drew both their spirits directly into his Xīnyù.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "You absolute tyrant! Stop manhandling people’s consciousness! Ahhh, if not for that damned pact…! Lead the way. Let’s just get this over with." Grumbling, half-asleep, she followed him through the familiar yet surreal landscape of his soul toward the Metal District. There, Lin Wei was already waiting, her spirit glowing with a patient light.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[A massive, unladylike yawn] Are we there yet?" She spotted Lin Wei and immediately straightened, performing a quick, embarrassed bow. "Greetings, Lady Lin Wei. I am the donor for your son’s treatment."

  [Lin Wei]: "I was the one who suggested you. And I must apologise on my son’s behalf for his… nocturnal diplomacy." Her smile was both amused and chiding.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "No, no, it’s quite all right. There’s no need to apologise for him. I’m beginning to understand it’s just his… excitable, childlike enthusiasm. [She managed a tired but genuine smile]"

  After the brief exchange, Wǎn Lù centred herself, pushing back her fatigue, and began the arduous process anew. As her Abyssal Water Phoenix aura began to glow, Lin Wei leaned close to her son.

  [Lin Wei]: "[A whisper meant only for his soul] your soul is rejecting the foreign essence. Your auras must be introduced together, blended. Go to her. Take her hand. Hold it firmly, and let your own aura flow alongside hers." Jian Zhi, ever the executor of a sound plan, walked to Wǎn Lù’s side just as she was focusing on condensing the Water seed. Without warning, his hand closed around hers.

  The sudden, solid warmth of his grasp startled her completely. Her eyes, previously narrowed in concentration, flew open wide, meeting his, which were, as always, calm, dark, and impenetrable. Through their joined hands, he began to release his own aura, a deep, potent, and faintly shimmering crimson-gold energy, weaving it into the stream of her cool, blue Water essence flowing toward the forming seed.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) *"*[Her heart gave a sudden, hard thump against her ribs] Calm down. Calm… down… Why is he holding my hand? How should I react? It’s… the first time. His hand is so large, hardened by training, yet the grip is firm, not harsh. It’s… warm. AISH! Focus, Wǎn Lù! The seed! Should I pull away? But… I need to finish this. And… his aura… It’s helping."

  Their combined efforts—her deep Water and his potent, commanding Dragon-Fire-Metal essence—coalesced in the air. This time, the seed that formed was not a lonely, fragile pea. It was a sphere, luminous and stable, shimmering with an inner light that held both blue and a faint, fiery gold. It hovered, perfect and whole, above the metallic ground.

  The seed had been planted. The first, brutal hurdle was overcome. Now, the silent, waiting question hung in the air of his Xīnyù: Would his desert soul, now marked with a trace of his own essence, accept it? Or would the second, longer battle for integration prove just as fraught?

  compatibility. By blending his own aura with hers, Jian Zhi essentially "signed" the package so his soul wouldn't delete it.

  Question for the Class: Wǎn Lù’s heart rate spiked during the procedure. Was it: A) The surprise of the contact? B) The intensity of his Dragon Aura? C) The fact that she just ate the best liver stir-fry of her life?

  Status Report: The seed is planted. Now comes the Incubation Phase. If you want to see if the seed survives the night (and what happens when Wǎn Lù wakes up still holding his hand), Hit FOLLOW. Let's get the follower count to double digits.