[-What does he want now?]
He walked over, and the moment he came close, Chu Xuanzhen caught his face in one hand, turning it to the side.
Chu Xuanzhen carefully studied the cheek he had bitten that day, then said, "The mark is still there. Isn't Scribe Shen... physically strong and robust?"
As he spoke, his firm thumb rubbed over the faint red mark.
In the sunlight, despite his ordinary clothes, Chu Xuanzhen seemed like a mortal standing against the light, yet also like a clear raindrop falling onto tender green leaves. There was a brilliance about him that could not be ignored. Shen Yangge saw his own reflection in those pale eyes, at once real and like a nightmare.
Shen Yangge's heart skipped a beat. His breathing stopped for a few seconds before he stammered, "...Maybe it'll be gone tomorrow?"
He spoke slowly, his almond-shaped eyes holding a bewilderment he did not even notice himself.
The deeper meaning in Chu Xuanzhen's eyes remained hidden where it was difficult to catch. He lowered his hand beneath his sleeve and ran his forefinger over the thumb that had stroked Shen Yangge's cheek.
After a short rest, the carriages resumed their journey one after another.
It was not until nightfall that the party made camp on a relatively flat stretch of grassland. Everyone lit fires and took out their rations to eat. No one spoke; it was utterly quiet.
Except for one spot, which was as noisy as merchants hawking their wares in a marketplace.
"Father, I don't want this hard flatbread. I want osmanthus cakes."
A little girl of three or four pleaded pitifully, revealing a mouth missing its two front teeth. The middle-aged man she called Father slapped her across the face and snorted:
"All you know is