Hearing this, Qing Zhu narrowed his eyes, his smile growing ever more wicked. He even lifted his brows from time to time, deliberately striking the pose of a rogue who preyed upon innocent maidens, all while casually stroking his chin.
“I used to think the same,” he said leisurely. “But now…” His gaze roamed boldly over Ning Xuan’s figure. “You’ve overturned far too many of my assumptions. If every young master looked like you, it wouldn’t be strange at all for our lords to keep a few pretty boys around.”
“Damn it!” Ning Xuan leapt three feet into the air. “Why does everything circle back to me?! How many times do I have to say it—this… should count as handsome, right? This is style, this is charm, this is charisma, this is masculine appeal! Stop calling it ‘demonic’ this and ‘demonic’ that—say one more word and I’ll cripple you!”
His eyes blazed, his smile bright yet tinged with danger. He crooked a finger, clearly inviting Qing Zhu to try him.
Yet Qing Zhu remained utterly unmoved.
Even Mo Qi, standing to the side, showed none of his former panic or eagerness to intervene. Instead, he watched with calm familiarity, as if such scenes had long since become commonplace.
“Fine, call it whatever you like,” Qing Zhu said dismissively. “Doesn’t change the facts.” With that, he waved a hand, adopting an exaggerated expression of sympathy before wandering off to mind his own tasks.
Ning Xuan snorted, turning away in irritation. He refocused on his work, determined not to be distracted.
Yet as his gaze idly flicked toward the water basin—
He froze.
And could not look away.
Skin like congealed jade, pale as snow—smooth and flawless.
A delicate face no larger than a palm, framed by glossy black hair, tied high yet with a few rebellious strands falling across the brow.
Lips naturally flushed, full and shapely, gleaming faintly as though inviting one to taste.
A straight, elegant nose.
But most striking of all—
Those eyes.
Large, bright, and dark, still carrying a trace of youthful innocence—yet the upward sweep of their corners lent them an unmistakable allure, a seductive charm that seemed entirely at odds with their naïve clarity.
Long lashes fluttered like twin fans.
The confusion and astonishment within those eyes only heightened the contrast—
Transforming an already breathtakingly bewitching face into something both enchanting and disarmingly pure.
Ning Xuan’s mouth fell open.
In the water, the reflection did the same.
He tried to smile—yet failed utterly, his expression stiff as though the heavens themselves had collapsed.
The reflection smiled too.
He straightened slowly, turning away with wooden stiffness. Though he resumed his work, it was little more than pretense.
Under his breath, he muttered ceaselessly—half consolation, half self-hypnosis:
“This… this is definitely handsome… Handsome, not demonic…”
And yet—
The words sounded weak.
Unconvincing, even to himself.
He had thought that this transmigration had not altered his appearance much.
Back in the modern world, his looks had only been considered somewhat refined—
So why, after changing into ancient attire, had it become… like this?
Lost in repetition, Ning Xuan continued his motions mechanically, so absorbed in his own spiraling thoughts that he failed to notice when Qing Zhu and Mo Qi had already left.
Even as noon approached—
Even as the long-awaited meal neared—
He remained oblivious.
Two blows in a single day—
Even if both were self-inflicted—
Were more than enough to leave him reeling.
Suddenly, someone kicked him sharply.
Before Ning Xuan could react, a stern voice rang out:
“Insolence!”
Ning Xuan blinked, still dazed, and let out a simple, “Huh?”
His lack of reaction left the speaker momentarily at a loss.
The two stood there—
One staring down,
The other not even bothering to look up.
Another man waved a hand, dismissing the one who had spoken.
Then he crouched down, leveling his gaze with Ning Xuan. After observing him for a moment, he mused:
“Could he be a fool?”
“The hell did you say?!” Ning Xuan snapped back instantly. “You’re the fool!”
He had only wanted to retreat into his own world for a moment of peace—and even that was denied. Were these people all so idle that they had nothing better to do than provoke others?
Did they take him for some harmless kitten?
He glared upward—
And met a pair of long, phoenix-shaped eyes, glinting with amused curiosity. A faint smile curved the man’s lips.
Ning Xuan paused.
He did not recognize this man.
A stranger.
Instinctively, he glanced to the side, seeking Qing Zhu and Mo Qi—
Only to find them gone.
Left with no choice, he sized the man up, piecing together what little knowledge he had.
A simple dark outfit, tightly fitted at the cuffs and collar.
Black boots.
A long sword slung at his waist.
No ornamentation save for a plain ribbon binding his hair.
Clean. Efficient.
A guard, most likely.
At the same time, the man looked at Ning Xuan—
And burst into laughter.
Unrestrained.
Ning Xuan rolled his eyes.
Is this guy sick? Laughing like that at a stranger?
“Next time you go out,” the man said, still chuckling, “try washing your face first, little kitten.”
As he spoke, his fingers brushed lightly across Ning Xuan’s eye—like a dragonfly skimming water—before he turned and left.
Ning Xuan froze.
The touch felt almost like an electric shock.
No wonder he was on edge—the man’s attitude had been far too casual, too intimate, and his expression impossible to read.
Meanwhile, the man walked away calmly, even raising a hand in farewell.
By the time Ning Xuan returned, Qing Zhu and Mo Qi had only just managed to secure his portion at the crowded dining table.
Seeing him arrive late—half-dazed, covering his face, smeared with ink—
They were utterly stunned.
“Your face…” Qing Zhu began, struggling to keep his expression straight.
That single word—
Was enough to set Ning Xuan off again.
“Again with my face?!” he snapped. “I told you—it’s handsome! Handsome, not demonic!”
“You’ve got a problem with that?!” he added through clenched teeth, forcing a smile. “This is natural charm—you couldn’t imitate it if you tried!”
“……”
Both Qing Zhu and Mo Qi twitched silently.
“Then may I ask,” Mo Qi said calmly, “how did our handsome young master manage to let ink slap him across the face twice while drying books?”
Beside him, Qing Zhu collapsed into laughter.
Ning Xuan blinked.
Lowering his hands, he finally noticed—
Both were stained with ink.
His entire face—
Must be the same.
The memory of the guard’s laughter, the teasing “little kitten”—
The sight of Qing Zhu and Mo Qi nearly choking on their food from laughter—
Hit him all at once.
He didn’t even have time to eat.
With a wail of despair—
“My books!!!”
He bolted.
Toward the stack he had just carefully laid out to dry.
Heaven knew—
If anyone discovered that the perfectly fine volumes from last month had been turned into this disaster—
What kind of fate awaited him.
Futile Devices Scans 
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