A Hearth of Their Own
The journey back to the hotel was a blur of elated exhaustion. The next morning, reality solidified with the weight of metal and parchment at the Shrek Academy Academic Affairs Office.
"These are your identity cards," the administrator stated, sliding five palm-sized metal cards across the counter. They were intricately engraved with soul tool arrays and their names. "They are your lifeblood here. Access to dormitories, facilities, the exchange of contribution points—everything is tied to this card. Lose it, and a replacement costs ten thousand contribution points."
Along with the cards came two sets of dark green uniforms, a detailed campus map, and a thick booklet of academy regulations. The weight of it all—literal and symbolic—settled on their shoulders.
Shen Yi met them afterward to guide them to the dormitory district, explaining the academy's core economy along the way. "Contribution points are everything. Earn them through missions, competitions, trade. Spend them on resources, specialized training, knowledge. Federal currency holds little sway here. Your performance has exempted you from tuition and base living fees. Cherish that advantage."
The dormitory building was a graceful, circular structure of pale stone, a far cry from the spartan lodgings they'd heard rumors about. As regular admits, they were assigned individual rooms.
Yao Xuan and Gu Yue, however, had submitted a joint application weeks prior. The clerk at the housing desk handed them a single key with a knowing, benign smile. "Couples' suite. Second floor, west wing."
The suite was spacious—120 square meters of warm, polished wood and simple, functional furniture. A living area, separate bedrooms, a combined study and cultivation space, a full bathroom, and… a compact, fully-equipped kitchenette.
Yao Xuan paused in the kitchen doorway. A memory surfaced, unbidden: Huo Yuhao winning a heart not with grand power, but with simple, shared meals over a fire. Gu Yue, with her analytical grace, and Na'er, with her pure-hearted joy—both, in their own ways, cherished the simple comfort of food. His own culinary skills began and ended with basic sustenance.
But he had resources beyond ordinary means.
While Gu Yue explored the living space, running a hand over the back of the sofa, her expression one of quiet approval, Yao Xuan leaned against the kitchen counter. His mind's eye called up the system interface.
The descriptions promised not just technique, but an artistry that could weave comfort and care into every dish. For someone whose love language was increasingly defined by protection and provision, the investment was obvious.
'For her. For them,' he thought. A thousand points was still a significant sum, but a hundred was a manageable step. He focused.
A stream of knowledge—knife skills, heat control, flavor balancing, the chemistry of ingredients, recipes from a hundred regions—flowed into his consciousness. It settled not as a foreign data dump, but as muscle memory and ingrained understanding, as if he'd spent a lifetime mastering the craft.
He blinked, the world snapping back into focus. He looked at his hands, then at the empty kitchen, seeing its potential.
"This is… adequate," Gu Yue said, coming to stand in the kitchen doorway. Her violet eyes swept over the space, then landed on him. "More than adequate. It feels… separate. Ours." The last word was barely a whisper, a testing of a new concept.
"It does," Yao Xuan agreed, a soft smile touching his lips. He gestured to the kitchen. "And this means I won't have to subject you to my former 'survival rations' anymore."
A genuine, warm spark of amusement lit her eyes. "A significant improvement. I look forward to the evidence." She hesitated, then added, "I can assist. Elemental control is… precise for temperature management."
The offer was both practical and deeply intimate—a sharing of her unique power in the most domestic of settings.
"A partnership," he said, nodding. "Then, for our first meal in our new home… let's see what the academy market has to offer."
The simple domesticity of the plan—shopping, cooking, sharing a meal in their own space—held a profound warmth. It wasn't about grandeur or power. It was about building a foundation, a shared hearth. As they left the suite to explore, side-by-side, the corridor ahead wasn't just a hallway in a dormitory; it was the first step into a shared future, one quiet, earned moment at a time.