Inside the bedchamber.
Zhang Mingyuan lay on the bed, fast asleep.
His handsome face was stripped of all its usual arrogance and cynicism, leaving only exhaustion.
By the bedside, Bai Lumian, dressed in a green vine gown, offered an apologetic, awkward smile.
“Xue, this... this really isn't my fault.” Bai Lumian spread her hands, looking entirely innocent.
“I was going to tell you about the dosage, but you were in such a rush. Before I could even open my mouth, you had already vanished.”
Su Jinxue shot a cold glare at her best friend.
“Then couldn't you have sent me a message through your spiritual jade?”
“Hehe, I forgot.” Bai Lumian playfully stuck out her tongue.
Forgot?
If she actually sent a message to tell you, how would you two finally seal the deal on a relationship that has been simmering for thousands of years?
I've been shipping you two for thousands of years. If you don't pierce that paper-thin window pane soon, even the heavens won't be able to stand watching anymore!
Bai Lumian complained wildly in her mind, but her face maintained a picture of utmost sincerity, screaming, “I really forgot!”
Su Jinxue was left utterly speechless.
Looking at her friend's “I'm sorry, but I'll do it again next time” expression, she couldn't bring herself to blow up at her.
Fortunately... fortunately, she was a Red Dust Immortal now. If this had happened back when their cultivation bases were still equal...
Today's matter... would probably have really...
Thinking of that possibility, a faint blush uncontrollably crept onto Su Jinxue's cheeks, which she quickly forced down with her cold energy.
“Cough, well, since he's fine now, you two... take your time talking. I still have a cauldron of pills to watch over in Spring-Return Valley, so I'll head out first!”
Seeing that the timing was just right and fearing she would face Su Jinxue's wrath if she stayed any longer, Bai Lumian decisively made an excuse, slipped away, and vanished from the hall in a flash.
Instantly, the vast bedchamber was left with only two people once again.
One sitting, one lying.
One awake, one asleep.
In the air, the remnants of that chaotic and ambiguous atmosphere still lingered, blending the masculine scent of Zhang Mingyuan with her own unique, cold fragrance of frost and snow.
Su Jinxue's gaze fell upon Zhang Mingyuan's sleeping face.
This guy...
For five thousand years, she had seen him high-spirited and dashing, she had seen him draw his sword in arrogance, and she had seen his playful, smirking face that made her teeth itch with annoyance.
Yet, she had never seen him look so quiet and harmless.
His long eyelashes cast a shadow beneath his eyes, his nose was high and straight, and his lips were perfectly shaped.
If only those infuriating words didn't come out of them...
this nemesis of hers was actually quite...
No!
Su Jinxue suddenly snapped out of it. How could she have such a ridiculous thought?
She must have been affected by the medicinal fumes as well!
She stood up, wanting to leave this place that was disturbing her peace of mind immediately.
But as if possessed, her footsteps paused, and she leaned down anyway.
Gently, she pulled up the corner of the cloud-silk quilt he had kicked aside and draped it over him.
After doing this, she herself was momentarily stunned.
Forget it, just treat it as pitying him.
Su Jinxue turned, preparing to leave.
But the moment she took a step, a warm hand suddenly reached out from beneath the quilt, precisely grabbing her wrist.
The grip wasn't strong, but it carried an unyielding stubbornness.
Su Jinxue froze, her immortal energy instinctively rising to shake him off.
“Don't... don't go...”
A slurred, nasal murmur from his dream drifted into her ears.
It was not a command, nor was it his usual provocation...
What kind of emotion was it?
She couldn't decipher it for a moment.
All of Su Jinxue's movements came to a halt.
She could clearly feel the warmth radiating from his palm.
For five thousand years, they had only communicated with clashing swords or bombarded each other with spells. When had they ever shared such a quiet touch?
As if possessed, she actually didn't break free.
Slowly, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Just like that, she let him hold her hand.
The hall was completely silent, save for the sound of Zhang Mingyuan's breathing.
He seemed to have fallen into a deep nightmare.
...
In his dream, there was no Xuanling Realm, no Myriad Snow Palace, and no Qingyun Heaven.
There was only a concrete jungle and the shrill sound of car horns.
His name was Zhang Mingyuan, an ordinary Blue Star office worker who squeezed onto subways daily, stared at computer screens, and rushed to meet KPIs.
He had nagging parents and a group of joking, close friends. His life was plain, yet peaceful.
However, the scene shifted.
An out-of-control truck rapidly grew larger in his vision.
Sharp pain, the world spinning, and then endless darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he had arrived in this unfamiliar world.
It was called the Xuanling Realm.
There were no cheats, no mysterious old mentors, and no divine manuals falling from the sky.
He was just a youth with no background, struggling to survive in this cultivation world where the strong devoured the weak and human lives were treated like grass.
To survive, he fought tooth and nail in the Xuanling Realm, often licking blood from the edge of a blade and seizing opportunities on the thin line between life and death.
He had seen too many people who were calling him brother one day, only to turn into a handful of yellow soil the next, and worse, it was often the result of them turning their blades against him.
He could only rely on himself.
Everything could only rely on himself.
From Qi Refining to Foundation Establishment, from Golden Core to Mahayana...
In five thousand years, he went from a helpless, wandering soul in a foreign land to climbing step by step to the peak of the Xuanling Realm, becoming the revered Sacred Lord of Qingyun Heaven.
Yet in the dead of night, he would still dream of returning to that blue planet.
He would dream of his mother's braised chicken wings, the cigarette his father handed him, and his friends howling like ghosts in a KTV.
“Dad... Mom...”
In his dream, he called out to them over and over again.
But whenever he reached out to grasp them, those familiar faces would turn into bubbles, dissipating in the wind.
Upon waking, there was only a cold pillow and an empty manor.
Zhang Mingyuan had been in this world for over five thousand years, and everything on Blue Star had long since changed beyond recognition.
“Don't go...”
“Don't... leave me all alone...”
On the bed, the man's brow furrowed tightly, his grip on Su Jinxue's hand tightening unconsciously.
That dream-talk was a soul-haunting plea.
Su Jinxue froze.
She looked down at the hand tightly gripping hers.
Five thousand years of clashing swords and flashing blades... at this moment, they all seemed to blur.
The furrowed-brow man pleading in his dream before her eyes, and the arrogant, overbearing Sacred Lord of Qingyun Heaven in her memory, gradually overlapped and then separated.
Which one... was he really?
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