Underneath A Thousand Skies ✔️

73 Foster Son, Don't Be So Crazy (10)

That evening, the house glowed with a soft, domestic warmth. 

Song Jia stirred vegetable soup while the scent of barley porridge thickened the air, steam curling like pale silk. Nian Shou returned with a warm apple tart wrapped in brown paper, its golden crust scented faintly of cinnamon. It felt almost festive, the three of them celebrating their newfound freedom.

Song Jia had pawned the gold and silver she found in the castle's treasury and exchanged them for money, which ensured that they would be able to comfortably live the rest of their lives without any worries.

"How could you be so lucky?" Nian Shou gaped at the number of glittering treasures that Song Jia nonchalantly showed him. "And you found this? Without anyone knowing that it was here?"

"...kind of."

Song Jia rubbed her nose. Of course it wasn't as simple as that. Before she woke up, the whole castle was hidden inside a magical barrier that made it invisible to the common people. It was the curse of the hundred years sleeping princess.

But that was all in the past ah, nothing to do with the present. That ornamental knife which was made specifically to kill her kind, also had nothing to do with her. She was a new Jia, and the rest of her complicated history, with all its mysteries, are all but passing clouds, one must not pay attention to them.

After dinner, she offered to help Xiang Feng take his bath. Such a small and skinny body, she couldn't help but click her tongue in disapproval. A little boy like him must be chubby and cute, just like a delicious, pork-filled meat bun.

Song Jia reached out to take off his shirt, but Xiang Feng turned bright red and stammered, "I...I can do it myself!"

Song Jia paused, and smiled understandingly. Little children ah, they think they're already adults when the smell of their mother's milk had not yet dried. [1]

"Okay, just call my name if you need any help."

She left him to take her own bath, walking down the corridor lit only by candle sconces. 

Song Jia took off her contact lenses, and removed the deep rose ribbon she used to tie her hair back. Both Nian Shou and Xiang Feng decided that Song Jia should take the priestess washroom because she was a girl, and Song Jia didn't disagree. She was fine living with Xiang Feng, but Nian Shou had the same age as her. It would be bad if she continued to act so carefree.

There was a clawfoot bathtub at the center, full of hot water that Nian Shou had heated and drawn. Song Jia admitted to herself that he indeed proved to be useful, more useful than she thought he could be.

Her hair fell down to her waist, and Song Jia slowly sank her whole body into the bathtub. She scooped up a handful of water and watched it flow through her fingers, her mind going into a daze.

Princess Bai Xue was born of a long line of witches. Her mother had seized the throne after the former Queen's death, taking the king merely as consort to strengthen her dynasty. Bai Xue was their daughter, but it was the mother's blood that mattered; power flowed through the matrilineal line. And diluted or not, Bai Xue did not fall short of her mother. She rose to become the most fearsome witch of her age, cold and radiant as snow under moonlight.

Xiang Feng stayed loyal to her until her death, after which he then committed suicide by jumping off a cliff. Song Jia wondered what it was that made him so devoted to her. A bewitching spell? Or...

Song Jia took a deep breath and ducked her head underwater. Her hair fanned out around her like spun gold, drifting weightless in the bath. Underneath the rippling water, the world went muffled and soft, like a song heard through a closed door.

Now that she became Xiang Feng's guardian, she should do her best to pick a nice wife for him.

Bad witches were definitely a big no-no for a daughter-in-law candidate, ah~

After Song Jia finished bathing, she dressed into a flowing white nightgown with long sleeves and a high collar. She was in the middle of brushing her hair when she came across Xiang Feng and Nian Shou sitting on opposite couches in front of the fireplace, studiously ignoring each other.

Song Jia pursed her lips. Since they were going to live together from now on, this simply cannot do. She plopped herself between them and said, "You two, let's play a game~"

Nian Shou spared her a disinterested glance, "Are you a child?"

Nian Shou's gaze stilled. He drew in a sharp breath, and straightened up. He pointed at her face with a shaking finger.

"Your eyes...they changed color!"

"En, en, the color of my eyes is originally like this." Song Jia waved him forward. "Now, let's play a game."

"But they changed color! Your eyes were brown before!"

"I disguised them," she said simply, tone unbothered, as if changing one's eye color were as easy as changing socks. "To avoid trouble. Now come here."

"But— how—"

"Nian Shou." She took his wrist and pulled him down to the rug. "Does it matter?"

Her voice was warm, but firm. A voice that made refusal feel childish.

She glanced to Xiang Feng. "You too. No brooding in corners."

The two of them reluctantly joined her, and Song Jia excitedly showed them the ribbon in her hand.

"Let's play hide and seek!"

Nian Shou groaned. He placed one arm over his eyes.

"I knew it would be something like this."

"Let's pick a person to play the seeker by rock, paper, and scissors," Song Jia continued, ignoring him. "Xiang Feng and Nian Shou, you two go first."

Left with no choice, the two people made a fist and opened their hands. Xiang Feng picked rock, while Nian Shou picked paper.

"Aha!" Nian Shou waved his hand triumphantly.

Xiang Feng lowered his eyes to his closed fist. No one saw the bright light that flashed quickly across his eyes.

"Okay, Xiao Feng, now it's between you and me."

As Song Jia leaned toward him, her golden hair slipped forward to frame her face in a soft, radiant halo. Her eyes, a clear and startling blue, held the wide openness of sky just after dawn. Light seemed to cling to her skin, pale and luminous with the faintest flush of rose, as though she were warmth made flesh. Even her lips, gently curved and delicate, suggested something living, bright, and kind.

And beside her, Xiang Feng was night.

The shadows gathered around him naturally, like they recognized him, the quiet of a moonless night. Her nearness didn't dispel the darkness, but illuminated it — the way sunrise makes mountains look sharper, deeper, more vast.

Xiang Feng's mouth twitched into a bitter smile. He ducked his head, tugging at his hair to pull it over his scar.

[1] Immature and inexperienced; wet behind the ears