Thank you very much, Mei-jie for the ko-fi! :blobaww:

Actually, Zhu Ming had felt more uncertain than anyone else last night.

Although the literature mentioned that this method of physical interaction was feasible, it also detailed the potential damage rapid loss of spiritual energy could cause to the brain.

At first, he had asked Zhou Zhou to join him, thinking it might help lighten his burden by a feather or two.

But after the two of them fumbled through the process, they quickly realized there was a reason why the technique of channeling spiritual energy was banned in clinical settings.

—It was just too difficult to control the degree of energy transfer.

Zhou Zhou tried helping by prying a few tail feathers: if he transferred too little spiritual energy, the feather he had just pried would snap right back with a whoosh; if he gave too much, the foolish roe deer almost blacked out, coming dangerously close to being entirely drained.

In the end, Zhu Ming had to quickly pull Zhou Zhou aside to let him rest, then took over the task himself.

137. Zhu Ming would never forget that number—it was the total count of tail feathers Dish Soap had.

Halfway through prying, he was already struggling, his vision starting to darken.

But it was too late to regret now. Dish Soap, with its bead-like innocent eyes, was staring at him in confusion. Its plume was a pitiful sight, half of its feathers sticking up while the other half drooped, a ridiculous yet pitiful image beyond words.

Stopping here now, what on earth does it look like?

Zhu Ming’s perfectionism, paired with a touch of obsessive-compulsiveness, wouldn’t allow such a result. He worked until the middle of the night, finally and painstakingly manually spreading all of Dish Soap’s tail feathers into a beautiful display.

The aftermath of severe spiritual energy depletion was like running eight kilometers on an empty stomach. Completely spent, he hadn’t even admired his work for long before collapsing onto the guest room bed, sleeping straight through to now.

Zhu Ming didn’t feel like he had sacrificed anything.

After all, he had signed the agreement, gained a marriage, and secured a top-tier experimental lab pod. He had every obligation to take responsibility for Xi Xianqing’s tail spreaing—this was simply his duty.

But at the same time, he didn’t feel that he had done anything wrong.

“I don’t understand. You were the one who asked me to help you spread its tail.”

Although Zhu Ming hadn’t expected a word of thanks, being berated out of nowhere made him lose his temper. “Regardless of the process, I accomplished the task you asked of me. What exactly are you dissatisfied with?”

His rebuttal was bold and unapologetic, causing Xi Xianqing to widen his eyes silently before giving a cold laugh. “So you still think you did the right thing, correct?”

Zhu Ming, already irritated, raised his eyes. “What did I do wrong?”

Zhu Ming felt that half-lying down like this robbed him of all authority—it was impossible to gain the upper hand while arguing with Xi Xianqing in such a state.

Though he couldn’t stand, he resolved to at least sit at the edge of the bed for a fair face-to-face confrontation.

Who would have thought that just the moment he struggled upright and prepared to speak, a wave of darkness enveloped him?

The overwhelming dizziness hit like a tidal wave. Zhu Ming froze for a moment before silently slumping backward.

Xi Xianqing’s pupils contracted as he quickly reached out to steady him. “What’s wrong—”

Zhu Ming’s gaze lost its focus, and a cold sweat broke out silently on his forehead. He turned his head slightly, teeth clenched. “I… suddenly can’t see anything.”

Blurred vision, fainting, blindness…

Symptoms Xi Xianqing had read about online resurfaced one by one in his mind.

Xi Xianqing’s heart sank sharply. Whatever disagreements they’d had moments ago were now forgotten as he bent over and gripped Zhu Ming’s arm tightly. “You’ve gone blind?”

“Oh, it seems to have returned.”

The next second, Zhu Ming rubbed his eyes. His hand then slid slowly down, pressing against his flat stomach. “It’s not blindness. Probably low blood sugar—I haven’t eaten all day.”

“So hungry,” he murmured, his eyelashes fluttering as he spoke almost to himself. “En, my head’s spinning too. I’m so hungry I can’t even walk anymore.”

Xi Xianqing: “….”

As if you could walk when you weren’t hungry.

Recalling the meal prepared by the resort staff on the dining table, Xi Xianqing let out a slow exhale, turned around and strode briskly out of the room.

The corners of Zhu Ming’s mouth twitched, and called after his retreating back, “I left the white jade bayberries in the freezer. Don’t forget to bring them ah.”

Xi Xianqing’s footsteps halted.

Without looking back, he continued out the door.

After a while, the future representative of District Six returned with a tray brimming with food—pineapple fried rice, chicken skewers, lemon tea, and, of course, a small frosted dish holding the chilled white jade bayberries.

Setting the tray on the bedside table, Xi Xianqing glanced at Zhu Ming. His lips moved slightly, as though he wanted to say something.

Zhu Ming, however, interrupted him with a “stop” gesture, picking up a spoon. “Save the file. Let me eat a few bites first. Once I have some strength, we can resume the argument.”

Zhu Ming was so hungry that he could devour an elephant and decided to start with the most appealing dish on the table—the pineapple fried rice. He scooped a large spoonful, added a cashew, and topped it off with some golden pineapple chunks.

The spoonful, piled high like a miniature mountain, was just about to be devoured in one swift bite. However, the moment the spoon neared his lips, Zhu Ming’s wrist gave a sudden tremor—

The fried rice fell back into the bowl, fluttering down like snowflakes.

Xi Xianqing, who witnessed the entire scene nearby: “…”

Zhu Ming admitted that his earlier weakness from low blood sugar after waking up might have been a bit exaggerated.

But this trembling hand wasn’t an act—his right wrist was genuinely sore. He had spent all of yesterday prying feathers, and the material of the sensor gloves wasn’t exactly soft. The last time his wrist had felt this achy was back in District Seven when he crammed for his medical exams during his teenage years.

Clicking his tongue, Zhu Ming shakily picked up the spoon and tried again.

But Xi Xianqing couldn’t stand watching him struggle any longer. He reached out and took the spoon right out of Zhu Ming’s hand.

Zhu Ming: “… What are you doing?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything. He simply sat down on the edge of the bed.

He exhaled quietly and followed Zhu Ming’s earlier actions, scooped up a large spoonful of fried rice, complete with cashew and pineapple chunks.

Then with one hand holding up the spoon and one hand resting underneath, he raised it to Zhu Ming’s mouth.

Even someone as shameless as Zhu Ming couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about being fed like this.

His face heated up, and he reached out to take the spoon back. “It’s fine. I can do it myself…”

“Eat,” Xi Xianqing said calmly.

With no other option, Zhu Ming leaned in and took a big bite.

The moment the warm, sweet rice filled his stomach, he felt rejuvenated.

When he looked up again, Xi Xianqing was already holding another spoonful, quietly waiting by his lips.

Zhu Ming didn’t bother being polite this time. Starving to the point his eyes turned green, he took spoonful after spoonful, savoring the delicious food. In no time, he had polished off nearly half the bowl.

With his stomach no longer feeling so hollow, he made a request for a change of menu. “I want some bayberries.”

Xi Xianqing paused briefly, then brought over the small dish of bayberries and placed it in front of him.

Zhu Ming didn’t feel right letting Xi Xianqing continue feeding him, so he shakily raised his hand, picked up a bayberry, and popped it into his mouth.

Then, he heard the person’s indifferent voice beside him, “Did you give any to someone else?”

Someone else? Zhu Ming searched around in his head.

“Oh, you mean Zhou Zhou? That kid has been eyeing this box of bayberries for a while.”

Zhu Ming responded, “But then I thought about it, I already finished the box you brought back last time. Miss Shen said this one is the final batch of the season.”

“Besides, these were a favor you got for me. You haven’t even tried them yet, so I decided not to let Zhou Zhou have any. I gave him something else instead.”

Zhu Ming tremblingly held the bayberry between his fingers, he raised it to Xi Xianqing’s lips, his eyes curving into crescents. “Here, try one.”

Xi Xianqing said nothing. He stared at Zhu Ming for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, after a brief pause, he lowered his gaze and bit into the bayberry.

Zhu Ming chuckled softly, rubbing his fingers together. “Tasty?”

​​Xi Xianqing said after a moment, “Not bad.”

Behind him, the green peac0ck flicked its tail and took a step to the side, clearly in a good mood.

Zhu Ming smiled without saying anything and lowered his head to eat one as well.

“I admit it was my fault for not discussing the means to spread its tail with you beforehand.”

The sweet and tangy juice burst in his mouth, making him sigh contentedly. “The number of feathers a bird’s spiritual manifestation really isn’t a joke. I don’t have the guts to pull a stunt like that again for the next assessment photo. I’ll stick to working on the medication for you.”

Xi Xianqing shot him a glance. “If you lack the courage and know the risks to your body, why did you take such a risk in the first place?”

“Because I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working recently. So, for that final photo, I wanted it to be as perfect as possible.”

Zhu Ming’s tone was calm and straightforward. “Otherwise, as a doctor, I’d feel like I hadn’t done my duty. And as your teammate in this assessment, I’d feel deeply regretful.”

Xi Xianqing’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, but he said nothing.

“But Xi Xianqing ya.” Zhu Ming tilted his head slightly and leaned closer, his voice soft as he called out his name. “You obviously care about me. So why can’t you just learn to express it properly?”

Under the warm light, Zhu Ming’s clear amber eyes gleamed with a mesmerizing glow, as if gently coaxing someone to hand over their heart.

Xi Xianqing retorted almost reflexively, “Who cares about you?”

Zhu Ming smiled faintly, laying all his cards on the table. “The white jade bayberries—you clearly got them specially for me. Why couldn’t you just tell me that outright?”

Xi Xianqing: “…”

“And just now, you were clearly worried about me. So why did you have to use such a cold, accusatory tone and bring up divorce?” He asked gently.

The room suddenly fell silent. The air seemed to chill, as if it might freeze solid at any moment. Zhu Ming felt like the person in front of him was turning into a statue.

After a long pause, Xi Xianqing finally spoke. “I didn’t mention the bayberries because I thought there was no need to. It was just a small favor, nothing worth talking about.”

Still being stubborn. Zhu Ming sighed in his heart.

“As for earlier, it’s true that I was a bit anxious and spoke out of turn a bit.”

Then, Xi Xianqing turned his face slightly to the side. “And what I said in front of Teacher Yang… wasn’t what I really meant, either.”

The smile on Zhu Ming’s face faltered for a moment.

Realizing what he’d just heard, he suspected if he was hallucinating. “If I didn’t misunderstand… are you trying to apologize to me?”

Xi Xianqing’s ears were dyed a thin red nearly instantly.

He didn’t deny the apology. Instead, he shot Zhu Ming a glare and added, “But you shouldn’t have given me the cold war, either.”

Cold war?

​​Zhu Ming didn’t react and pointed at himself, “Me?”

Then he pointed at Xi Xianqing. “Giving you the cold war?”

Xi Xianqing avoided direct eye contact, staring at the floral pattern on the curtains instead. After a long moment, he said coolly, “Are you saying you didn’t?”

Zhu Ming was wronged to death, “…When did I ever ah?”

Xi Xianqing’s voice was cold as he accused, “There were several times when we crossed paths in the kitchen, and you ignored me, wheeling yourself away without a word.”

Zhu Ming: “Huh?”

He seriously wondered if Xi Xianqing was talking about someone from a parallel universe. “Ignoring you… in the kitchen?”

“Oh, those times ah.”

Zhu Ming suddenly reacted and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Because I was busy making medicine for you ah”

“Some of the medications require precise timing to monitor their reactions. If I don’t stop the reaction in time, the medicine won’t be effective. Back then, I could only rush out to grab a sip of water. Where would I find time to chat with you?” He explained.

Xi Xianqing shot him a skeptical glance, pursing his lips before presenting new evidence. “And you… didn’t check on Dish Soap for several days.”

“Because you were working most of the time ah.”

​​ Zhu Ming replied, both amused and exasperated. “I did peek through the door crack a few times, but Dish Soap’s tail wasn’t moving at all. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Xi Xianqing fell silent again.

Both of them were quiet for a while.

“Make the most of it while you can. The nerve relaxant you drank will only last for about 20 more hours.”

Zhu Ming casually changed the subject. “Soon, you’ll regain control over Dish Soap. Naturally, his tail will go back to normal, too.”

As he spoke, he happily reached for the sensor gloves on the bedside table. “But I have to say, after the display, I haven’t had a proper look at my masterpiece yet…”

​​Before his fingers could touch the gloves, it was swiftly snatched away by someone.

Holding the gloves in his hand, Xi Xianqing looked down at Zhu Ming with a cold expression. “From now on, I’ll be keeping these.”

“…Just let me touch it once.”

“No.”

Zhu Ming sighed, reluctantly laying back down on the bed, “Okay.”

His pitiful appearance caused a slight twitch in Xi Xianqing’s brow before he quickly turned his face away.

“The last time I wasn’t feeling well from an allergy, you helped me.”

Xi Xianqing said, his back turned as he began tidying up the empty dishes. His voice remained calm and collected. “Fair is fair. If you have any requests, tell me now.”

Zhu Ming blinked in surprise before realizing that this was the great Young Master’s way of offering a truce.

“To be honest, it’s a bit cold.”

Zhu Ming said openly after a moment’s thought. His gaze swept over Xi Xianqing’s attire. “That suit you’re wearing today looks even fancier than the coat you had during my last rehab session.”

Zhu Ming blinked. “I wonder if it’s warm enough to use as a blanket?”

Xi Xianqing glanced at him without a word. After a brief pause, he took off his suit jacket and tossed it over.

Zhu Ming caught it with a smile, slipping his arms into the sleeves without hesitation. He shook them lightly before wrapping the jacket snugly around himself and lying back down on the bed.

​​Bundled up in the luxurious suit, he resembled a small animal wary of the cold, curling up under the covers with a satisfied expression as he soaked in the comfort.

This action of his caused Xi Xianqing to be stunned, “Are you… that cold?”

The loss of spiritual energy was akin to the physical depletion that came after a blood transfusion. It wasn’t something that could be quickly recovered.

Zhu Ming yawned and casually fooled around. “It’s nothing serious. I’ll be fine after a nap.”

​​Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything else and stood up.

“Then I’ll take another nap oh.” Zhu Ming assumed he was leaving and murmured drowsily, “You can spend some more time with Dish Soap. Take more pictures or something. After all, by tomorrow morning, the kid will again—”

With a ‘click’, the room was plunged into darkness.

It was Xi Xianqing who turned off the bedroom light.

Zhu Ming blinked in surprise, momentarily stunned. “Left so fast.”

​​The air was cold and silent in the darkness for a moment.

Then came a faint rustling sound from the other side of the bed.

Zhu Ming opened his eyes in confusion: “…?”

Before he could figure out what was happening, a hand firmly gripped his shoulder. There was a brief pause, and then he felt a gentle tug—

The next thing he knew, his cheek and upper body were pulled into a warm, solid chest.

“Then now…” Xi Xianqing’s voice sounded from above his head, slightly awkward, with a brief hesitation, “…does it feel a little better?”

Zhu Ming’s breathing suddenly stopped.

His mind went blank for a moment as he registered what had just happened. The darkness seemed to slow his thoughts, making it harder to process.

Half of his body was wrapped in a comforting, toasty warmth. After lingering for a moment, Zhu Ming spoke honestly, “Uh… yeah, I think it really does feel a lot warmer.”

His voice was muffled by the fabric, and he wasn’t sure if Xi Xianqing could hear him clearly.

After a long silence, he heard Xi Xianqing give a low, soft “en.”

Zhu Ming lifted his head, about to say something more, but Xi Xianqing’s hand pressed gently on the top of his head. His fingers slid into Zhu Ming’s hair, firmly but wordlessly pushing his head back against his chest.

The hand lingered for a moment, awkwardly adjusting its position. Finally, it settled stiffly on Zhu Ming’s shoulder, hovering briefly before tentatively patting it in a clumsy, light gesture.

“…Then sleep quickly,” He heard Xi Xianqing say.

Author’s Notes:

The big peac0ck shyly yet domineeringly held the little fox into his arms!