Chapter 26: This old rogue! This old fox!

Sparks flew everywhere as bright orange flames leaped up, bringing warmth and light into the room.

Before long, under Angela’s skilled hands, a rich aroma of meat began to spread through the simple little hut. The earlier embarrassment of being sprayed with water seemed to be washed away quite a bit by this cozy scent of home-cooked food.

When Angela arranged one fragrant yet simple dish after another—braised wild rabbit, stir-fried mushrooms, and cold wild greens—across the long wooden table that Rose had neatly cleaned, the dim little hut seemed to light up instantly, filled with mouth-watering vitality.

Rose sat silently at the table, secretly swallowing a mouthful of saliva. Her silver eyes sparkled with tiny glittering lights as she stared at the food, temporarily forgetting all the awkwardness from earlier.

Soon, a childish voice came from the dining table.

“I’m full.”

Rose gloomily set down the wooden fork in her hand. Her voice was low, carrying a strong sense of frustration.

The extremely shameful water-spraying scene at the stove earlier was now burned into her mind like a brand, making her unable to taste anything.

Only a few drops of oil clung to the fork. She had barely managed to eat one or two bites of the originally tempting duck meat. Surprise and embarrassment pressed on her stomach like heavy stones, leaving her with no appetite at all.

She never wanted to spray anything again in her entire life! Especially not in front of other people!

“Full already?” Angela elegantly sliced the rabbit meat, his purple eyes carrying a hint of teasing amusement as he glanced at the plate in front of Rose, which had barely been touched.

“Eat a bit more. Look, you’ve only tasted a little of each dish, and there’s still so much left.” He pointed at the still-abundant spread on the table. “This is my cooking, don’t waste it.”

Rose looked at the fragrant food before her, but her throat felt as if something was blocking it.

She was indeed hungry, but this young dragon body seemed to have a small appetite. Coupled with her extremely depressed mood, she had eaten less than half her usual amount and already felt full.

More importantly, the “water-spraying incident” made her want to crawl into a hole. She had no mood to enjoy the delicious food at all.

“You eat slowly,” Rose stood up. The chair legs scraped lightly against the rough floor. She only wanted to escape this place that made her feel so embarrassed. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Even while Angela was cooking, she had quietly heated a kettle of water on the small stove in the bathroom. Although her hair had already dried after coming out of the lake, the faint smell of lake water mixed with dust still lingered in her silver strands, making her feel uncomfortable all over.

She desperately wanted to wash away this disheveled state and change into clean clothes, as if doing so could wash away even a little of the earlier embarrassment.

She carefully slid down from the chair that was a bit too high for her and subconsciously glanced at Rest, who was still lying quietly on the floor bedding.

After confirming he showed no movement, she practically fled toward the simple bathroom.

Hearing the wooden door gently close, Angela confirmed that Rose had entered the small compartment. He immediately dropped his elegant dining posture.

He leisurely used the tip of his fork to spear the last piece of roasted chicken butt in his plate, which was slightly browned. Yet his gaze curiously drifted toward the motionless figure on the ground.

“Hey, Miss Rose has left.” He tapped the edge of the plate with his fork, producing a crisp clink. His voice wasn’t loud, but it clearly reached Rest’s ears.

Rest on the ground remained completely still, not even his eyelashes twitching.

The corner of Angela’s mouth curved into a playful arc. He slowly brought the chicken butt to his lips but didn’t eat it. Instead, in an extremely serious tone, as if speaking to the air—or rather, to the person on the ground—he muttered to himself:

“Aiya, if this guy still doesn’t get up…” He toyed with the fork, making the glossy chicken butt sway on its tip, his gaze casually sweeping over Rest’s straight nose bridge. “…I’ll have no choice but to stuff this thing into your nostril and see if it wakes you up?”

The moment his words fell, Angela keenly caught the extremely subtle, almost imperceptible twitch of the right eyebrow of the person on the ground.

Hah, still pretending? This drizzle isn’t enough.

The smile in Angela’s eyes deepened, flashing with fox-like cunning. He decided to up the dosage.

He put down the fork, leaned his body slightly forward, and moved closer to Rest on the ground. Using an extremely sincere voice filled with devilish, tempting allure, he said clearly:

“I’m serious. If you don’t get up, tomorrow morning I’ll take our cute and adorably clueless Miss Rose to the nearest human town, find a priest, and directly press her little hand to stamp the marriage certificate. Mm… for the spouse column, I’ll just write my name!”

“That won’t do.”

A firm, vinegar-filled protest brimming with dissatisfaction exploded from the ground almost instantly.

The “unconscious” Rest suddenly opened his dark red eyes. With a swift roll, he sat up. His black messy hair hung loosely over his forehead, and one hand irritably scratched at it, looking like a large cat forcibly woken from sleep.

Rest glared at Angela with clear displeasure. His handsome face was full of annoyance, especially when he saw the smug, narrowed-eyed cunning smile on the other’s face, which only made him even angrier.

“What? Can’t I enjoy my wife’s thoughtful care for a little longer?” His eyes carried an obvious accusation.

As he spoke, he naturally moved to the empty seat at the table, picked up the fork Rose had used, and unceremoniously stabbed a large piece of rabbit meat into his mouth. Yet his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the simple bathroom compartment, where faint sounds of flowing water and the wooden tub shifting could be heard.

Rest’s chewing slowed down. A faint, hard-to-detect dark light flashed deep in his dark red eyes, and his throat rolled unconsciously.

Taking a bath, huh… He licked the oil from the corner of his lips, his gaze seemingly trying to pierce through the crude wooden door.

“I want to take a bath too…” His voice grew low, carrying an undisguised, primitive, and scorching possessiveness, almost like he was talking to himself, yet also like a declaration.

Angela watched Rest’s current appearance, a mischievous light flashing in his purple eyes. He deliberately dragged out his words:

“Oh? You want to bathe that badly? Then how about…” He leaned forward slightly, nodding toward the bathroom with his chin, his voice full of temptation. “Shall I go knock on the door right now and ask our cute Miss Rose if she minds squeezing one more unconscious big guy into her tiny bath tub?”

“Pfft—!” Rest nearly choked on the rabbit meat he had just stuffed in. He coughed violently twice, his handsome face instantly flushing red—whether from choking or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

“Cut it out!” He interrupted Angela gruffly, then hurriedly shoveled several more big mouthfuls of food, wolfing them down to quickly fill his stomach, as if trying to stuff Angela’s troublemaking mouth with food.

Then, right under Angela’s teasing gaze, he actually lay back down on the spot, adjusted his posture, closed his eyes comfortably, and returned to his standard “severely injured and unconscious” pose.

The entire process was smooth and natural. On the surface, his face didn’t redden and his heart didn’t race—truly an Oscar-worthy performance.

Angela: “……”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Looking at the Demon King on the ground who had instantly fallen “asleep,” black lines almost appeared on his forehead.

The scorching declaration about wanting to bathe was still ringing in his ears, yet this guy’s skin was thicker than the walls of the Demon King’s city.

However, Angela was not so easily fooled. He elegantly wiped the nonexistent oil from the corner of his mouth, picked up the simple wooden cup on the table, and took a sip of water. His purple eyes narrowed slightly as his sharp, blade-like gaze locked onto Rest once again.

As a subordinate and bad friend who had followed Rest through countless battles and life-and-death situations for many years, Angela had seen him in all kinds of miserable injured states. But this time, when they snatched him back from that black-robed madman Satan, Angela found it very strange.

Rest’s aura was indeed as weak as a candle in the wind, and his body had suffered heavy damage. Yet the feeling was more like he was deliberately concealing all signs of life rather than truly being on the verge of death and unconscious.

After being tricked awake by Angela’s marriage-certificate threat, although this guy had shouted about wanting to bathe, his eyes were clear and his movements were fluid. How did he look like a severely injured person who had just recovered from a fatal blow?

Angela reached an extremely clear—and even somewhat absurd—conclusion.

This guy…

Angela’s gaze pinned onto Rest’s “peacefully sleeping” handsome face like a physical force.

He had been faking unconsciousness ever since he was rescued!

It was obviously just to enjoy Rose’s clumsy and embarrassed “thoughtful care”!

It was all to watch his wife anxiously fussing over him! This old rogue! Old fox!!