Lin Yue let out a small sigh, almost too soft to hear.
"If only there were salt," he murmured, poking the fire lightly with a stick. "Then it would really be perfect."
Feng Lihan heard it anyway.
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he watched Lin Yue turn the chicken carefully, the flames licking the skin until it turned golden and fragrant. The scent of spice filled the clearing, sharp and warm, stirring hunger—and something else—deep in his chest.
"No salt?" Feng Lihan finally asked.
Lin Yue shook his head. "I didn't find any nearby. In my clan, we always had it. Food without salt feels like it's missing a soul." He laughed quietly, but there was a trace of longing beneath it.
Feng Lihan stood up.
"I'll look," he said.
Lin Yue startled. Did he know what is salt"Now? It's already dark."
"I won't go far."
Before Lin Yue could argue about salt , Feng Lihan was already moving, disappearing between the trees like a shadow slipping back into the forest.
Lin Yue stared after him, stunned.
He's really going… just because I said that?
The chicken crackled over the fire. Lin Yue sat back down, hugging his knees again, his gaze fixed on the flames—but his thoughts were no longer steady. His heart beat a little faster, warmth spreading somewhere it shouldn't.
Not long after, Feng Lihan returned.
In his hand was a small, pale stone pouch.
"This," he said, opening it. Inside were coarse white crystals, uneven but unmistakable. "There's a mineral spring nearby. Seven once showed me how to collect it."
Lin Yue's breath caught. "Salt…"
He looked up at Feng Lihan, eyes bright with disbelief and gratitude. "You went just for this?"
Feng Lihan shrugged, as if it were nothing. "You said it would taste better."
For a moment, Lin Yue couldn't speak.
He reached out, carefully taking the pouch, his fingers brushing Feng Lihan's by accident—or maybe not entirely by accident. The touch was brief, but both of them felt it.
"…Thank you," Lin Yue said softly.
This time, when he sprinkled the salt over the chicken, he did it slowly, reverently. The aroma deepened instantly—richer, fuller, alive. Lin Yue smiled, truly smiled, the kind that reached his eyes.
When the chicken was finally done, he tore off a piece and handed it to Feng Lihan first.
"You should try it."
Feng Lihan accepted it, biting in. The heat, the spice, the salt—it was unfamiliar, overwhelming, and strangely comforting.
"…It's good," he said after a pause. "Very good."
Lin Yue laughed, relieved and pleased. "See? Food can change how a night feels."
They ate in silence after that, but it was no longer the heavy, distant kind. The fire burned steadily between them, casting soft light on their faces.
Lin Yue leaned back, satisfied, his shoulders finally relaxed.
And Feng Lihan realized something then—
somewhere between hunting a chicken, searching for salt in the dark, and sharing a meal by the fire, this bond had quietly deepened.
Not declared.
Not named.
But unmistakably there. Feng lihan feel happiness ☺️...