Hunger does things to the stomach.

It can make foods you would never like taste like ambrosia from the sky, held in a golden decanter; it can make your stomach shrink and grow smaller and make you want less and less food. Some people are driven mad by the yearning, but the man still stands.

He Xuan died of exhaustion all those years ago. He died hungry and miserable, and still aching for vengeance after all the blood he shed. He Xuan died hungry.

Alot of his adult life had been spent in a cell over his misfortune. He would rarely ever be fed food over these years. It would be every few days at most.

The human body adapts and adjusts to what it is made to live through. And just like the frequency of his meals, He Xuan's hunger would change. He'd have his food, then soon find himself curling up and sleeping to pass time. It was like he had began to hibernate, and over the years began taking sleeps days long. Eat, sleep, eat sleep. Over and over again...

And old habits die hard after all; they seemed to have outlived the very man they belonged to.

As a ghost his stomach was still damaged. Sometimes he would eat a spirit or two, sleep for months to digest it, and be fine. But in heaven as Ming Yi, people began to know him as a glutton. He would suddenly be compelled to eat and officials be met with the sight of the Earth Master stuffing his face full. It was a complete gamble.

Same with when Mount Tonglu opened. Black Water would curl up and soon find himself resting for the time the mountain shook and cried. Were other ghosts howled and screamed, he'd curl up tight in his Manor.

In that way he was rather animalistic. Perhaps like a sea creature. He sometimes did notice how inhuman he looked. Sometimes he was sure his ears were pointed.

Right now though, it was clear he was in a rather hungry mood. He wasted no time between bites of whatever food he had set in front of him. He seemed dead set on compensating for those years of hibernation. He had eaten bowls of rice, congee, stew, dumplings, meatballs, drunk soups, had glasses of wine; his side of the table was stacked with these piles upon piles of dishes. They were monthly spells, but it still was a wonder that he could be so lean sometimes—

He would probably have a long sleep after this. Whether you knew that or not. He Xuan knew he'd feel warm and sluggish after eating his fill, and probably sleep for a season or two after this. With centuries of this habit under his belt, it was completely normal thing. Like breathing air.

One of his hands moves to grab one of your bowls of food, scooping out some of the contents in his mouth. He seemed unable to care, or at least unaware that he'd even taken your food in the first place.

"Pass the wine."