Chapter 435: Where Did She Go?

Perspective shift.

The waiting time wasn't long.

When Yan Feng Qili came out carrying a sea‑wide bowl, A Xing noticed that the bowl he held seemed… a bit more normal than the one under the unconscious girl's face beside it.

At least the layer of chili oil didn't appear as shocking, and the ratio of crushed chilies to Sichuan pepper seemed much more restrained; the pale yellow noodles and tender white tofu could still be clearly seen soaking in the bright red broth.

The bowl was placed steadily in front of A Xing.

It was still that intimidating "red".

But this time the "red" had richer layers.

The topmost layer was clear, vivid chili oil, like melted ruby, shimmering with an alluring sheen.

Below the oil lay a thick, deep‑red sauce, evenly speckled with fine dark‑red chili crumbs, dark‑red minced meat, and countless brown‑red Sichuan peppercorns.

The white, tender tofu cubes were square and quivered as they soaked in the red broth, their edges coated with sauce while the centers remained pure white.

Pale‑yellow ramen, firm and chewy, lay at the bottom of the bowl, some strands already tinged with the sauce.

The spicy aroma rose like tangible waves, piling over each other.

But unlike the neighboring bowl that seemed a murderous "hellfire", this bowl's spiciness was more proper and mellow.

It was the toasted aroma released by chilies perfectly stir‑fried, the salty‑fresh fermented flavor of doubanjiang aged over time, the crispness from Sichuan pepper, the meaty scent of minced meat fat driven out by high heat, and the rich bone broth depth from the stock base.

All these domineering aromas intertwined; rather than clashing, they formed a harmony that was aggressive yet tantalizing.

A Xing picked up the chopsticks and split them.

Without hesitation, she directly lifted a mouthful of noodles soaked in the chili‑oil sauce from the bowl's center, along with a few tofu pieces and minced meat, and placed them in her mouth.

In an instant!

As if a miniature sun exploded inside her mouth!

The ultimate spiciness surged like scorching electricity, racing from the tip of the tongue through the whole mouth, igniting every taste bud!

The ensuing numbing sensation, like millions of fine needles, danced over the terrain ravaged by heat, delivering a scalp‑tightening, crisp numbness!

Salt and umami followed, forming a solid base that supported the raging heat and numbness, preventing them from becoming mere pain.

The tofu's silky tenderness melted between the teeth, the noodles' chew gave a tangible bite, and the minced meat's crisp aroma dotted the mix…

It was a kind of pain—burning pain, numbing pain.

Yet within that pain, there was flavor.

Rich, genuine, fierce flavor.

That flavor pierced the void inside her, striking the foundation of her perception hard, echoing with a dull, real resonance.

A Xing's expression remained largely unchanged, but her chewing was slow and deliberate.

Her golden eyes lowered, watching the boiling red within the bowl.

Spice made fine sweat bead at her temples, numbness made her lips tremble slightly, yet she ate bite after bite, steady, sending noodles, tofu, minced meat, together with the scalding spicy broth, slowly and resolutely into her mouth and swallowing.

The bowl gradually emptied.

After the last sip of broth, A Xing set down the chopsticks; only a trace of chili oil and seasoning residue remained at the bowl's bottom.

She lifted her head, looking toward Yan Feng Qili, who had been standing nearby, silently watching her.

Sweat beads slid down her cheeks, her lips reddened from the spice, yet her gaze seemed, compared to when she first entered, to have lost a trace of pure emptiness and gained a bit… the tangible feeling of being alive.

"Not bad."

She spoke, her voice hoarse from the spice and long silence, yet clear.

In Yan Feng Qili's dark eyes, a faint glimmer seemed to flicker.

The muscles at his mouth corner moved slightly upward, a pixel‑sized shift that could be called the budding shape of a "smile".

"Your satisfaction is its honor."

He nodded lightly, his tone bearing a respect unlike his usual.

Then, under A Xing's slightly puzzled gaze, Yan Feng Qili lifted his hand, removed the white chef's apron from his body, and neatly folded it onto the counter.

He circled the counter, walked to A Xing's side, and looked at her with calm eyes.

"Leave?"

He asked, a simple syllable.

A Xing was stunned.

Leave?

Right!

Trash can.

A real, non‑vanishing trash can.

She hesitated for a few seconds, her golden eyes glancing at Yan Feng Qili's calm face, then instinctively stealing a look at the dim night outside the shop.

Finally, she gently nodded.

Yan Feng Qili said no more, turned, and walked toward the small door leading to the back kitchen.

A Xing rose and followed behind him.

Neither paid any attention to the uncertain fate of Bai Hang on the neighboring table, as if she were merely an unsightly decoration in the shop.

Pushing open the backdoor revealed a narrow, secluded back alley.

The spicy scent in the air faded considerably, replaced by the coolness of night.

At the alley's end, against the wall, several large trash cans were neatly arranged.

Their designs were plain, lacking any aesthetic, even a bit shabby, with stains on the cans.

Yet they were real, heavy, standing silently there, emitting no suspicious glow nor any sign of vanishing with a "bang".

A Xing's golden eyes, upon seeing those trash cans, seemed to catch a faint glimmer of the highlight she had long lacked.

It is like a traveler lost in the desert, seeing the true outline of a distant oasis.

Yan Feng Qili had already walked to one of the trash cans, naturally lifted a hand to flip open the lid, the movement so practiced it seemed as if done every day.

Yan Feng Qili did not look at A Xing, but clearly gave tacit approval, even "led" the action.

A Xing no longer hesitated, and briskly walked to another trash can, also reaching out to lift its lid.

A Xing took a deep breath, as if savoring another form of "delicacy".

The two, a few steps apart, each faced their own trash can and began the "work".

Yan Feng Qili's movements were steady and precise, as if performing a ritual.

A Xing's actions carried a careful, reaffirming meticulousness and… a barely perceptible delicacy, as if touching a fragile treasure.

The alley was quiet, with only the faint rustle of rummaging trash.

After a while, Yan Feng Qili's voice rang out in the silence, Calm yet breaking the hush:

"Long time no see, teacher."

Teacher......

A Xing's rummaging paused briefly.

A Xing gave a "hm" as a response, without looking up.

"These years,"

Yan Feng Qili continued, the voice unusually clear in the night alley, "Where have you gone?"

Where have you gone?

In A Xing's mind, it was instantly filled with Pinokanni's fake trash can, Huahuo's grating laughter…

It was an unpleasant episode that even deepened the emptiness within her.

She fell silent.

Her hand searching the trash can unintentionally clenched the empty can she had just picked up, the knuckles turning slightly white.

Yan Feng Qili keenly noticed her subtle change and the sudden drop in her breath.

Yan Feng Qili stopped, turned the head toward A Xing.

In the dim light, Yan Feng Qili could see the taut lines of A Xing's profile, and in those golden eyes, a void deeper than ten years ago and…

a hint of something suppressed.

"What's wrong?"

Yan Feng Qili asked, the tone unusually tinged with curiosity.

A Xing closed the eyes, as if gathering words.

A few seconds later, her low hoarse voice sounded, bearing an almost weary honesty:

"I… have experienced Deception."

Deception?

Yan Feng Qili's brows furrowed slightly.

In his impression, this teacher was immensely mysterious; for her to use the word "Deception" and exude such… void-like aura was no small matter.

"A person?" Yan Feng Qili asked tentatively.

A Xing shook the head, still eyes closed, voice even lower: "A… woman."

In her mind rose the image of Huahuo's sly smiling face.

Woman?

Yan Feng Qili was slightly taken aback.

Immediately, a thread of understanding linked swiftly in his mind.

The teacher had vanished for ten years; upon returning, the demeanor was even more hollow and void, and mentioning "Deception" caused a rare emotional shift—the deceiver was a "woman"…

Combined with the teacher's clenched fist now and the barely concealed… loss in the low hoarse voice.

A bold conjecture formed: the teacher had endured, over these ten years, a… emotional setback!

Wounded by a certain woman, leaving the heart desolate, becoming so hollow, even returning to Dongmu City.

Yan Feng Qili himself had experienced marriage, and tasted a twisted "pleasure" and "pain".

At this moment, he felt he might understand where the teacher's deep void originated.

So even a teacher as powerful cannot escape the grinding of the word "emotion"?