Chapter 157: A Postscript: A Short While and a Lifetime.

Chapter 157: A Postscript: A Short While and a Lifetime.

The sunset shone through the window frame.

"...Huh?"

Fu Yu looked up and saw that the four corners of the window lattice were carved with patterns of fortune, prosperity, longevity, and happiness. Golden-red light poured in, making the entire window seat lively and festive.

She looked at him.

He was eating seriously, his slender fingers holding chopsticks, eyelids slightly lowered.

Fu Yu gave a slow blink.

He had always preferred a cold, solemn style—like the residence he had created in Yulong City when they first met, all black, white, and gray, so stark it was like a tomb. Even the two golden, gleaming dragons she had brought in couldn't brighten it up.

Later, over the years...

He had to accept her "auspicious and lucky" decorations, but he held his ground—the parts he handled himself were always in a cold, solemn, tomb-like aesthetic.

Now, having died once, he had finally come to like these "vulgar" patterns too.

Fu Yu couldn't help but fiddle with the tip of her chopsticks on the table.

The characters were like round golden ingots; the bamboo chopsticks blocked the light, making it seem as if she had picked them up.

Fu Yu's face lit up with joy.

"Ahem."

Jun Bu Du coughed lightly and set down his chopsticks.

He had finished eating.

Catching his faintly reproachful gaze, Fu Yu raised her eyebrows, feeling a pang of guilt.

She deliberately mimicked his cool and steady tone: "Focus on eating, no playing around—I knoooow!"

He sighed and reached out, taking the chopsticks from her hand.

Fu Yu: "Hey?"

He stood up and walked away directly.

Fu Yu was confused: "Mad? Not letting me eat?"

Just as she was wondering, he came back and placed a clean pair of chopsticks in her hand.

He said, "There's dust on the table."

Fu Yu laughed.

She had almost forgotten—her dead husband had a cleanliness fetish and was a bit OCD.

She shot back, "When I was a kid, I could wrestle stray dogs for a bun. Later, when you weren't around and I lived alone in the village, if a pancake fell on the ground, I'd pick it up, blow on it, and eat it anyway. A little dirt never hurt—it's medicine!"

He thought for a moment.

Without a word, he took back the old chopsticks and placed them back in her palm.

He nodded toward the chopsticks, signaling her to eat: "Cure yourself."

Fu Yu: "..."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a dirty look, then looked down at the chopsticks in her hand.

Sure enough, the tips were covered in dust.

From the back-and-forth, the grease on the tips had congealed, and with the added dust, they looked like incense burners from a ruined temple.

She tried, but couldn't bring herself to put them in her mouth.

Fu Yu: "..."

She glared at him again, and his eyes curved slightly, with an expression that seemed to say, "Go on, eat it—why aren't you eating?"—the bastard.

Fu Yu threw the chopsticks down in frustration.

She was furious: "You ruler demon, you fussy ghost! When you weren't here, I wasn't this particular."

He chuckled: "Then you'll have to be particular for a lifetime."

Fu Yu's heart skipped a beat.

Stunned, she blurted out: "...Yeah, I guess I'll have to be particular for a lifetime."

Their eyes met, and suddenly her eyes welled up.

The memory of their parting was vivid in her mind.

—When I'm not here, can you manage on your own?

—Probably not. I won't get used to it.

—Then you'll have to get used to it for a while.

—Yeah, I'll have to get used to it for a while.

His shadow loomed over her. She tried to turn her face away, but his fingers caught her chin first.

He tilted her chin up.

His thin lips came down, kissing away the tears welling in her eyes.

"If you want to cry, then cry."

That night in bed, Jun Bu Du must have repeated those words a thousand times.