Ticked off of how Xavier looked at him, Zen shot back. "Why can’t it be you?"


    "Because I’m more useful than you," Xavier said, then spun on his heels and descended the stairs, unwilling to entertain Zen’s retorts.


    Hera chuckled at their banter, while Zen found himself breathing heavily with frustration, his mind racing. "Wouldn’t this only reinforce the idea that I’m less useful than Xavier?" he pondered. Despite his internal conflict, Zen couldn’t conjure up a retort, so he begrudgingly trudged to his room to retrieve spare clothes before heading to the bathroom.


    Hera descended the stairs to follow Xavier, who stood near the staircase, seemingly indifferent to the curious gazes of those around him. When he caught sight of Hera descending, he turned his attention to her, as if waiting for her next instruction.


    "Let’s head outside and get the fire started," Hera said to Xavier, leading the way back to the spot where the other participants had gathered for their marshmallow party around a bonfire. Nearby, a neatly stacked pile of firewood awaited, ready to be used.


    Their task was made easier with the neatly stacked firewood. Xavier began piling it up, preparing to ignite the fire. Hera nced over to see him crouched down, only to find that he was already in the process of starting the fire.


    She quickly called out to him. "Wait, Brother Xavier!"


    Xavier’s hands paused in midair as soon as he heard Hera address him with the term ’Brother Xavier.’ He looked up at her as she stood by the clean table, busily seasoning the pheasant.


    "Before we start the fire, could you help me gather some mud?" Hera asked, exining the process. "We need to cover the pheasant with mud and bury it under the fire." It became apparent to Hera that Xavier was unfamiliar with the cooking method for beggar chicken and assumed they would simply cook it directly over the fire.


    Realizing that he almost made a mistake, Xavier pursed his lips in thought. With a determined nod, he carefully ced the lighter back down and swiftly set off to find a suitable container for gathering the mud Hera required.


    Observing Xavier’s expression, Hera felt the urge to console him, to reassure him that he hadn’t made any mistakes. However, her hands were currently coated with spices, and she hesitated to risk transferring any to Xavier’s pristine white hair. Reluctantly, she returned her focus to her own tasks, noting that Xavier had already ventured off in search of the perfect mud for their beggar chicken.


    Hera proceeded to finely chop additional ingredients, carefully stuffing them inside the pheasant to enhance its juiciness and vor. Afterward, she meticulously coated the outside of the pheasant with spices. To prevent any mud from seeping into the crevices of the leaves or any natural oils from the pheasant from leaking out, she wrapped the entire pheasant tightly in tworge lotus leaves.


    Afterpleting the preparation of the second pheasant, Hera set it aside and noticed that Xavier still hadn’t returned with the mud. Uncertain of his whereabouts or how far he had gone to find it, she found herself with idle hands. Deciding to make good use of her time, Hera began digging a holerge enough to amodate both beggar chickens. She ensured there was ample space so that the two pheasants wouldn’t be crowded, preventing uneven cooking on some sides.


    As Hera began to scrape the surface of the ground, she heard a rustle behind her,ing from a dense cluster of bushes. Turning around, she spotted Xavier emerging from behind the foliage, a pail in his right hand. Some leaves clung to his otherwise pristine white hair, and he appeared slightly disheveled, with dirt staining his hands from handling the mud.


    The usually clean Xavier is now looking so different that Hera couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked so out of character. Despite the disarray, there was an endearing quality to his appearance. As Xavier approached, he ced the brimming pail beside the table and wordlessly joined Hera’s side. Without hesitation, he crouched down beside her, took the small shovel from her hand, and began digging for the hole. Hera had already started scraping the surface, leaving behind an outline indicating the desired size of the hole. Now, Xavier only needed to determine the depth required.


    Sensing Xavier’s intent, Hera chuckled once more and ryed to him the depth she desired for the hole. She then nced at the pail of mud, noting its well-mixed consistency—neither too watery nor too thick. With a quick nce at Xavier, she offered a wordless expression of appreciation, her smile widening across her lips.


    She proceeded to coat the outside of the beggar chicken with mud using her hands, ensuring theyer was neither too thick nor too thin. If the mud were too thick, the inside of the pheasant might not cook properly, while if it were too thin, the meat could be overcooked. Given the variability of the fire’s intensity, Hera had to carefully consider all possibilities as she coated both beggar chickens.


    Silently engrossed in their respective tasks, Hera and Xavier worked in unison, their actions guided by an unspoken understanding. Their synchronized efforts gave the impression of a couple who had spent considerable time together, developing an intuitive understanding that transcended the need for verbalmunication.


    Viewers couldn’t help but notice the seamless coordination between Xavier and Hera, prompting them to squeal with excitement as they fervently shipped the pair, eagerly observing every unfolding moment.