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It was now the dead of winter in the Eastern Sea.
All the turbulence from the Inner World seemed to have reached its peak like waves crashing onto a crest. What followed could only be the ebb.
When Li Yuan rose from the bed, Yao Jue, dressed in a soft, milky-white winter robe, was already at his side, helping him into his clothes and boots.
Outside, faint sizzling and clattering sounds drifted in from the kitchen. Li Yuan glanced over and saw Ying Zhuoyao, wearing a moss-green apron, tending to something at the stove amid the warm bustle of rising steam and kitchen smoke.
Not long after, a steaming hot breakfast was served.
Perhaps knowing his temperament, they’d kept things simple but comforting, bowls of noodles, fluffy buns, some crisp, flaky cakes made from a mixture of local spirit herbs and flour, and a few poached eggs, though which bird they came from, no one could...
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