If Only He Were My Fiancé...

After thanking him, Zhu Zhuqing began working on the flatbread in her hands.

She carefully took a bite, leaving two neat rows of delicate teeth marks on it.

Even after starving herself to this state, she still maintained impeccable table manners. She chewed in small bites, trying not to make a sound, her back straight and every movement carrying an innate elegance.

Yet a body that had gone three days without food cared little for manners. Her hunger was like a flood suppressed for too long; once the gates opened, it could no longer be contained.

Without realizing it, she began chewing faster and faster, her small bites turning into large mouthfuls.

The fragrance of the flatbread burst across her tongue, and the savory saltiness of the braised beef nearly moved her to tears. She had never imagined food could taste so delicious.

Whether the flatbread was too dry or Zhu Zhuqing had eaten too quickly and eagerly, she suddenly choked hard. Her pretty face flushed crimson at once, but this time it was not from embarrassment—it was because the mouthful of flatbread lodged in her throat refused to go down.

Her eyes reddened slightly as she instinctively raised a hand and pounded her chest, trying to force the food stuck in her throat downward.

Once, twice, three times—her chest trembled wildly beneath the blows.

But that piece of flatbread seemed determined to oppose her, remaining stuck in place and making even breathing difficult.

Just as she was about to run out of breath, a hand holding a silver canteen extended before her.

Zhu Zhuqing froze for a moment. Too desperate to thank him, she snatched the canteen, twisted off the cap as quickly as possible, and tipped her head back to pour the water into her mouth.

"Gulp, gulp, gulp!"

The clear water swept the stubborn flatbread down her throat. At last, she let out a long breath, her entire body going limp as though she had survived a disaster.

"Haah~"

She released a relieved sigh, her chest heaving violently, with tears even glistening at the corners of her eyes from the suffocation just now.

Under the moonlight, her originally cool and ethereal face now looked somewhat disheveled. Yet that gave her a touch more of worldly warmth, making her seem even more vivid and alive than before.

"There's no need to rush."

Yang Jian's voice rang out again, carrying a hint of amusement.

"If that isn't enough, I still have more."

Zhu Zhuqing lifted her head and met Yang Jian's smiling face.

Moonlight fell upon his brows, making his gentle expression appear especially tender.

His eyes were bright, as if filled with starlight. They watched her quietly, without mockery—only a tolerance that inexplicably put her at ease.

Looking at Yang Jian's face, Zhu Zhuqing felt her heart suddenly tremble, as if something had struck it hard.

An utterly inappropriate thought surfaced in her mind without warning.

If only he were my fiancé.

The moment that thought appeared, even Zhu Zhuqing herself was startled.

Her face instantly burned, hotter than at any point before.

She hurriedly lowered her head and shifted her attention back to the flatbread in her hands, wishing she could bury her entire head in the pile of food.

What was she even thinking!

She was someone with a marriage engagement. How could she have such... such shameless thoughts about a stranger she had only just met!

Zhu Zhuqing harshly reprimanded herself in her heart, yet her heart refused to settle down, continuing to pound wildly in her chest.

After finishing two flatbreads and a piece of braised beef, Zhu Zhuqing finally felt her strength return.

The weakness and dizziness that had plagued her for days had mostly faded, and strength surged back through her limbs.

She took a deep breath and tried to restore her usual cool expression. Then she handed the half-empty silver canteen back to Yang Jian. Though her voice was still a little tight, it was far steadier than before.

"Thank you for the meal."

"It was nothing. No need to be so polite."

Yang Jian took the silver canteen and casually put it back into the Soul Tool at his waist, as though it were an utterly insignificant matter.

Once she was full and hydrated, drowsiness came crashing over her like a tide.

Zhu Zhuqing could not help yawning.

Though she raised a hand to cover her mouth with lightning-fast reflexes, that lazy yawn still revealed her exhaustion.

Under the moonlight, a faint blush rose over her snow-lotus-pure face once more. Tonight seemed to be the night she had blushed the most in her entire life.

She had not slept at all for four full days.

While fleeing, she had not dared to sleep, nor could she.

Every time she closed her eyes, she exposed herself to danger. Those pursuers had clung to her like starving wolves, and the slightest lapse would have doomed her beyond redemption.

Now that her pursuers were gone and the danger had passed, the exhaustion accumulated over several days could no longer be suppressed after a full meal. Wave after wave, it battered at her wavering consciousness.

Yang Jian had clearly noticed her drowsiness.

He did not say much. He simply took an unassembled tent from the Soul Tool on his belt and gently placed it before her.

"I have a tent here. If you don't mind, you can borrow it first."

Zhu Zhuqing looked at the tent, warmth rising in her heart.

This man—no, this young man—seemed to have been thinking of her ever since they met.

He had saved her life, given her food, and now he was even offering her his tent.

"Thank you."

She thanked him again, her voice carrying a softness even she had not noticed.

However, when Zhu Zhuqing crouched down and began trying to set up the tent, things went nowhere near as smoothly as she had imagined.

She unfolded the tent fabric and picked up the poles, only to find that she had no idea which pole was meant to go into which connector.

As the third young lady of the Zhu Family, her life had been filled entirely with cultivation under the demands of fate. She had never encountered something like setting up a tent.

She inserted one pole, only for the other end to spring upward. After finally spreading the fabric open, she discovered that it was facing the wrong direction.

She started over, only to find that a pole was missing. She searched through every single part but could not find the vanished pole anywhere.

Half an hour passed.

The tent remained exactly as it had been at the start: a messy pile of fabric and poles scattered across the ground, as if silently mocking her incompetence.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Zhu Zhuqing's forehead, and her face showed both embarrassment and unwillingness.

She did not want to appear too incapable in front of Yang Jian, but the truth was right before her—she really could not even set up a tent.

"I'll help you."

Yang Jian's voice sounded behind her, calm as a mirror-like lake bathed in moonlight.