Chapter 302: That's Part of the Dowry
"Fu Hua"—or rather, the Herrscher of Sentience—was still in a deep sleep.
The bedroom door quietly opened a small crack, and the Book of Fuxi floated in without a sound.
She drifted over to the peacefully sleeping girl, who lay on her side, her posture calm and serene. After observing her for a while and confirming nothing was amiss, the book gently settled on the pillow. The girl's smooth, long hair and elegantly traditional sleeves were spread loosely across the pillow. The Book of Fuxi, holding her miniature teacup, took a delicate sip.
"Ha—I'm parched. After such a long tirade, I deserve a break."
Right in front of her was Fu Hua's delicate, fair face. The Book of Fuxi extended a tiny hand and gave her cheek a gentle pat.
"Blockhead or not, all you people who claim to be Fu Hua are such headaches. Did I owe you all something in a past life? Then again, would something like an AI android even have a past life?"
She pondered the idea for a moment before giving up and narrowing her eyes, continuing to sip her tea.
"When I first met you, honestly, it startled me. I know that blockhead's demeanor all too well, so from the start I could tell you weren't her. But you were so adamant you were Fu Hua, and so familiar with those memories… I didn't have much choice but to treat you like her for the time being."
"I never saw you as the blockhead, but I never disliked you either. After all, with that face and those pure, innocent eyes looking at me like that, how could I possibly stay indifferent?"
"Sometimes… I even wished you really were that blockhead."
"You're so simple. That's why you find happiness so easily. Unlike the blockhead, who bottles everything up, making it impossible for people to care for her properly."
"Your world is black and white. If you like something, you like it; if you hate something, you hate it. That kind of person is actually harder to hurt. Remember to keep living like that. Don't imitate that blockhead—good or bad, nothing is more important to her than her strange ideals and principles. She's turned her life into a mess because of it."
"You always listen to me. Not just paying lip service—you actually take my words to heart. If only that blockhead could learn from you. Wouldn't it be nice if she could be a little happier, a little more honest with herself? But no, she insists on bottling everything up. Even when she's smiling, there's always this sorrow in her eyes that never fades."
"…I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."
Cradling her teacup, the Book of Fuxi looked down, her usual lively and mischievous expression replaced by a faint wistfulness.
"Listen to me—don't worry about something as trivial as your identity. Whether you're Fu Hua, the Herrscher of Sentience, or someone else entirely, I know you. And I accept you. I'm sure the blockhead feels the same way."
"So, stop being so stubborn. Be a good girl, alright?"
"Oh, and that cold-blooded Sigurd? I already gave him a good lesson. I scolded him for an entire day, and even landed a dozen punches on his face. I did my best to vent your anger. Though… you did stir up trouble first, so technically we were in the wrong. I couldn't exactly milk the situation. Bit of a shame, really."
"I'm cooking some porridge, I better go check how it's doing."
"Sleep well. Good night."
She gently stroked Fu Hua's face, then smiled and floated out of the room.
…
"She's still not awake?"
"Eh… let's just say she isn't. Sigurd boy, what do you think of the porridge?"
Beside the courtyard stove, the Book of Fuxi held up a normal-sized bowl filled with a bit of porridge and offered it to Sigurd.
He took it and had a sip.
"Hmm, it's almost ready. If she likes it softer, give it a bit more time."
"Then let's let it simmer longer. No rush."
The Book of Fuxi folded her sleeves and floated up, gently landing atop Sigurd's head, settling comfortably among his soft, silver-white hair.
"Sigurd boy, thank you."
"…Huh? Weren't you just yelling at me for being too rough?"
"One thing at a time. I know. Whether that child can stay or not ultimately depends on you. In a way, your attitude is the key. If you shake your head, even the blockhead might not be able to protect her."
"There's no reason for me to refuse an extra high-level combatant. Kevin's worried that the Herrscher of Sentience might pose a threat to Fu Hua's consciousness. Yet, you don't seem to care at all."
Sigurd set down the bowl of porridge he'd tasted and, while tending the makeshift charcoal stove for the Book of Fuxi, spoke matter-of-factly.
The Book of Fuxi tilted her head.
"That kid… being so convinced that she is the blockhead, if anything, proves how much she approves of—maybe even likes—the version of Fu Hua she learned about through those memories. I trust she won't hurt her. Besides, our Immortal isn't that fragile, is she?"
"You haven't known each other that long. It's reasonable to suspect your consciousness has been tampered with by the Herrscher of Sentience."
"Oh, come on. Think about it seriously—if she had that kind of intent and skill, she wouldn't have even made it here to meet you. The blockhead would've dealt with her long ago."
"…True enough."
Sigurd nodded seriously.
He believed in the Herrscher of Sentience's power—but he also had unwavering faith in Fu Hua's millennia of experience and how deeply she cherished those around her.
Then the Book of Fuxi sighed softly and asked:
"Speaking of time… Sigurd boy, how long did it take for you to go from meeting Kiana to reaching the point where you couldn't help but take care of her?"
The question made Sigurd pause mid-motion, slipping into deep thought.
Finally, rubbing his chin, he murmured with a hint of confusion:
"I don't know… it just kind of happened."
"Exactly, time doesn't really matter when it comes to love."
"Fine, you've convinced me. I'll leave that girl to you and Fu Hua. Just make sure she doesn't cause trouble. If I need her later, she better cooperate."
"OK, leave her to us. But hey, since you'll be the one using her, shouldn't you chip in for the food bill?"
The Book of Fuxi floated right in front of Sigurd, rubbing her hands together with a cheeky grin.
Sigurd pondered for a moment, then nodded.
"Sure. Now that I'm emperor, even Mount Taixuan is mine. Feeding one more person isn't a problem."
"Eh!? Wait, what? Since when!? I definitely hasn't heard about this!"
"Well, now you have."
"Hey! That's not fair! Mount Taixuan was bought by my masters—it's supposed to be part of the blockhead's dowry! How can it be handed over to someone else…? Hmm, actually, maybe it's not impossible. Set a wedding date, and once the blockhead's officially married in, I guess the mountain won't matter anymore."
She opened her tiny hands with a wide, gleaming smile.
Sigurd, ignoring her teasing, stirred the porridge in the clay pot and said:
"It's ready. Are you going to take it to her?"
"Tsk—what a brute way to change the subject. Whatever, whatever. Let's have a taste ourselves. No point bringing it over now if there's no one there to eat it."
The Book of Fuxi floated lazily in the air, sounding almost indifferent.
Sigurd turned his head and glanced toward the direction of the villa.
"Yeah… you're right."
He murmured.
Inside Fu Hua's bedroom, the bed was now empty. By the open window, only the thin curtain fluttered gently in the breeze.
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