She opened her mouth to speak but was rendered speechless by his explosive statement, momentarily unable to find the right words.
Xin Yunmao observed her speechlessness, and his expression grew more certain, as if he had hit the nail right on the head.
Chu Zhishui was about to break down. The suggestion to braid hair was just playing with him? This leap in logic was absurd. She said dryly, "Let's talk about something else, something else."
Xin Yunmao gave her a cold look: "Play something else?"
"..."
Chu Zhishui's ears grew hot. She glanced at the courtyard and quickly changed the subject: "By the way, why haven't the bamboo grown yet? Winter is almost over."
While other plants showed signs of sprouting, the bamboo area had nothing, not even a single green shoot.
Xin Yunmao's body stiffened. He avoided her gaze and swept his eyes over the empty courtyard. Now only the bamboo area remained without any greenery, particularly conspicuous during spring's revival.
Xin Yunmao feigned calmness: "They'll grow soon."
Chu Zhishui questioned skeptically: "But not even one has sprouted?"
"Would you like some fruit?" Xin Yunmao picked up an orange from under the small table. He peeled it with his bare hands without touching the flesh and handed it to Chu Zhishui beside him.
"Thank you," Chu Zhishui accepted with gratitude. Just as she lowered her head to take a bite, she felt a cool breeze and looked up to see spring rain falling in the small courtyard. The fine curtain of rain covered everything like a thin mist, dripping and streaming.
In the next moment, several emerald bamboo shoots burst from the ground, suddenly breaking through the soil and shooting skyward. Their soft, tender leaves unfurled, becoming wet with fine rain, the green leaves swaying in the wind.
The corner of the small courtyard filled with green bamboo, complementing the new classical furniture, like a carefully tended garden. The air was humid, the rain pattered softly, and the fresh scent of bamboo grove drifted with the wind, becoming more enchanting in the spring rain.
The orange was quickly finished, its taste sweet and sour, full of juice.
Chu Zhishui wiped her fingers clean with paper and gripped the back of the rocking chair, smiling: "Divine Lord, you understand plants best. Please explain to me, why did the bamboo grow so tall?"
How could it grow from nothing all winter to full height after one rain? What principle was this?
Xin Yunmao's gaze wandered as he calmly replied: "Bamboo grows quickly during the rainy season."
Hearing this, she shook the rocking chair vigorously, as if trying to shake him to his senses, and exposed: "Isn't the rain all under your control anyway!?"
"..."
Xin Yunmao endured her angry shaking, but knowing he was in the wrong, he awkwardly tugged at his sleeve, not daring to respond. The cuff of his ancient robe had black patterns, like traces of fire scorching, or ink spreading on rice paper.
Chu Zhishui's attention was drawn to the black patterns, and she asked curiously: "Why do you always have these patterns on your clothes?"
She noticed he used to wear mostly dark colors, but now had more light-colored clothing, though they often had black marks, similar to the surface of the Dragon Bone Umbrella.
Xin Yunmao froze. After a long silence, he stole a glance at her and hesitantly probed: "Does it look bad?"
Chu Zhishui: "It's fine. Do you like this style?"
"Because my true form was burned by dragon flames, so these marks remain," he said softly. "Back then, when I cut off one of his claws, he tried to scorch my trunk with black flames, causing our powers to merge."
Chu Zhishui listened to his solemn narration and examined the black patterns, her heart trembling.
"I couldn't originally use fire, but since then I've been able to. The handle of the Dragon Bone Umbrella is made from his severed claw bone," his gaze drifted to the distance, lost in memories as he said coldly, "This is a divine weapon. When he shows up again someday, he'll definitely come looking for me. When that time comes, I'll use the umbrella to break him into eight pieces, ten pieces, twelve pieces."
"That would bring out many Observation Bureaus again," Chu Zhishui sighed helplessly. She picked up his sleeve, stroking the patterns, and asked softly, "Did it hurt when you were burned?"
Xin Yunmao was moved by her gentle tone, his heart trembling slightly, feeling somewhat pitiful: "It hurt, it hurt a lot, it still hurts."
He was still tormented by the dragon flames. The black flames had absorbed the hatred of the dragon god's believers, mixed with human suffering and misery, even polluting his name.
His original name was Yunmao, only becoming Xin Yunmao after the great battle.
Names are heaven's blessing, yet he couldn't purify his name, deeply aware that since his birth and deification, something had been lost, leaving only a regretful void in his chest.
Since the great battle, he had suppressed all emotions, never approaching humans with overwhelming desires, facing the world with detachment. This was because the black dragon flames were a curse fire - if he interacted too much with ill-intentioned mortals, that dark power would emerge and pollute him further.
For a thousand years he had wandered in Huaijiang, still unable to find a solution. Only by her side did he feel better.
Often, he didn't consider himself a god - gods would never be impure and unclean. Rather, she seemed more divine than him.
Hearing him complain like a child, Chu Zhishui blew on the black flame-marked sleeve she was holding and comforted him with a smile: "There, there, let the pain fly away."
"It really is unsightly after all." Xin Yunmao pulled his sleeve back, his expression darkening, clearly bothered. He had always been a clean freak, and now these burn marks were like thorns in his heart.
"Come on, it's just charcoal-roasted bamboo," Chu Zhishui persuaded. "Charcoal-roasted bamboo rice is so fragrant, let's accept these changes!"
Hearing her casual attitude, Xin Yunmao felt somewhat better: "Hmph."
The clear rain tapped against bamboo leaves, adding to the poetic atmosphere.
The human and spirit sat under the eaves watching bamboo and rain. Having just heard his past story, and seeing that he could even mention the dragon god he despised, Chu Zhishui suddenly found some courage to ask a personal question. She carefully said: "Divine Lord, I'd like to ask you a botanical question."
"What is it?"
"When do bamboo usually flower?" She quickly added, afraid of being misunderstood, "Like the bamboo near the courtyard, and the ones by the stream."
As long as she didn't relate it to him directly, there shouldn't be any misunderstanding.
Regular bamboo must be different from plant spirits. Recently, curiosity had been eating at her, but asking him such questions directly felt like harassment, so she could only probe indirectly.
Xin Yunmao pondered: "The bamboo outside the courtyard might flower, but the ones inside cannot."
Chu Zhishui: "Why?"
He frowned: "The courtyard bamboo grew from my rhizomes, like my extensions. I cannot flower."
Those bamboo were still him, changing with his state.
Chu Zhishui suddenly understood: "Oh, so you don't flower." It seemed Hong Ximing was wrong - bamboo spirits weren't the flowering kind.
"It's not that I don't flower, but that I cannot flower," Xin Yunmao furrowed his brows, correcting her precisely.
"Is there a difference?"
His brows knitted slightly, seeming difficult to explain. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he finally spoke: "Didn't I say before that I can't respond to human or spirit emotions? If I were to fall in love, the bamboo would flower."
Chu Zhishui thought of her bamboo knowledge and exclaimed in shock: "So you'll die if you flower?"
"I won't die, but my power would be greatly weakened. The spirit energy would all go into flowering. But bamboo flowering is meaningless - we can grow new shoots from rhizomes, yet flowering is about producing seeds." Xin Yunmao explained, "Besides, flowering doesn't guarantee seeds. If seeds form, power weakens even faster. And the bamboo that grows from those seeds wouldn't be me, yet would absorb my spirit energy to become a new god."
"A new god?"
"Yes. When a new deity is to be ordained, the previous one can sense it. They feel restless inside. As a new god rises, the old must decline - this is what heaven and earth told me when I came into being," he said flatly. "That's why I clearly understand why that dragon wanted to devour me. Before I was born, he too felt troubled."
The laws of heaven and earth have their reasons. If a new god is nurtured, the old god must have issues.
The world's power is always in flux. The black dragon flames would bring the former dragon god's feelings, and thinking of bamboo seeds or new gods also made him anxious, like an instinctive rejection carved into his bones. Of course he would resist flowering. As long as he didn't flower, there would be no new god.
"I see," Chu Zhishui said in a daze. "...How fascinating."
The questions in her heart were finally answered, but somehow she felt a hint of loss. She should be glad he hadn't fallen in love and flowered, as that would bring a series of troubles. Yet her body felt filled with bitter seawater, like walking alone on a deserted beach at night, lonely.
He truly hadn't lied when he said he couldn't respond to any emotions - he had been completely serious.
She could understand his perspective.
Xin Yunmao suddenly noticed her dejection. He quickly turned to look at her and asked, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Chu Zhishui smiled, lifting the teapot. "I'll go inside and brew another pot."
Not understanding the reason for her low spirits, he instantly became worried. His lips unconsciously tightened as he muttered, "...would you like to braid my hair when you come back?"
She seemed to have a great interest in his hair.
She smiled gently. "It's getting late today. Let's do it next time."
Chu Zhishui's silhouette disappeared into the courtyard.
Xin Yunmao rose from the reclining chair, suddenly at a loss for what to do. Just like when his name was tainted, he felt something slipping through his fingers, but could only watch helplessly as it escaped, unable to think of any solution.
He clutched the fabric over his heart, feeling an unbearable tightness in his chest. In the darkness, it was as if a long-dormant seed was about to burst forth recklessly. The seed attempted to break free from its longtime restraint, yet hesitated to advance further due to the black flame's contamination.
Due to the dragon flame's torment, he had suppressed all kinds of emotions, but unlike the malice and hatred from humans and demons, what now surrounded him was an intense and burning emotion. If it didn't erupt soon, he felt he would completely explode. This impulse boiled in his internal organs, threatening to burn him to a crisp, more unbearable than the black flames themselves.
It hurt so much, even worse than when she didn't visit him for two weeks.
Yet they were literally under the same roof.
Moments later, Chu Zhishui returned with the teapot. Though she had composed herself, she found Xin Yunmao standing motionless in the courtyard.
"Why did you get up?" Chu Zhishui said, "I was just getting some water."
Xin Yunmao struggled to describe his inner unease. Lowering his gaze, he asked in a slightly hoarse voice, "Can I still come here in the future?"
"Of course you can," Chu Zhishui replied, puzzled. "Isn't this your temple?"
Seeing her sincere expression, Xin Yunmao felt slightly relieved and finally regained his composure. She had always kept her promises, never going back on her word.
Yet he still felt a sense of loss.
It started with his thoughts being drawn to her, then wanting to see her frequently, and now even meeting her couldn't resolve it. Like a plant desperately reaching for sweet spring water, he felt helplessly stretched in all directions, his heart burning ever more intensely.
She stood right in front of him, but it still didn't feel enough.
Before leaving, the ancient rattan chair was left in the courtyard. Considering that he would need water, Chu Zhishui finally gave him the key. She warned, "You can go to the kitchen to boil water, but don't do anything strange."
He was already lounging ungracefully in the chair, and would probably come to stay after work. After all, the front door was no obstacle to him, so not giving him a key had been pointless all along.
Xin Yunmao stared at the key but didn't reach for it, saying softly, "If you give me the key, does that mean you won't come anymore?"
"I can only come on weekends. I have to live with my parents during the week, you know that," Chu Zhishui said with surprise. "I go home for meals on workdays."
"...Oh." His expression relaxed slightly as he finally took the key, then glanced up at her. "So will you come here for meals on weekends?"
His gaze flickered but remained fixed on her as he casually tested the waters.
"What meals?" Chu Zhishui cursed him inwardly for being so coy. She immediately raised her voice in irritation, "Where would we get food here!?"
He mumbled, "You mentioned bamboo tube rice cooked over charcoal."
"..."
