Feng Qingyun’s sentence was a threat among threats. The moment Long Yin heard it, his heart gave a hard jolt, but before he could react, he abruptly felt his arms turn empty.
Feng Qingyun had already finished discerning all of his heart demons… and had recognized his true body.
Which meant next, with their roles reversed, it was Long Yin’s turn to recognize him.
Long Yin stood quietly in place for a moment, then suddenly let out a soft laugh. That fierce, biting last line from Feng Qingyun became, in his eyes, unbearably adorable, like a soft brush sweeping right across his heart, leaving him both nervously on edge and unable to suppress a strange, indescribable excitement and anticipation.
What method would his Little Rose use to make sure he never forgot it for the rest of his life?
Then he lifted his gaze toward the scene gradually taking shape before him.
For a being born from illusion and currently holding half the authority of Heaven’s Dao, an illusion of that level was practically completely transparent. Long Yin couldn’t control it himself, but guessing its direction was no challenge.
However, Long Yin knew clearly that Feng Qingyun was different from him.
His rose’s heart was pure, without a single heart demon. The illusion was born from one’s three souls and seven spirits1, so it could not fabricate heart demons from nothing; naturally, it could not reflect any for Feng Qingyun.
The seven spirits correspond to the seven emotions; ordinary people manifested heart demons through one or several of these, but Long Yin, as the embodiment of Heaven’s Dao and the illusion’s dragon God, was special: he had directly generated seven fully formed heart demons, one born from each spirit. Whether that had anything to do with how he was torn apart and killed in ancient times… Long Yin himself wasn’t sure. And if even he couldn’t tell truth from speculation, he certainly wasn’t going to rely on Feng Qingyun to find out.
As for Feng Qingyun, since he had no heart demons, the illusion could not reproduce anything based on the seven spirits. However, aside from the seven spirits, whether one was human, demon, or spirit, they also possessed three souls: the heavenly, earthly, and mortal.
The heavenly soul, called taiguang, corresponded to one’s original source, the purest longing of life itself, and governed reincarnation. The earthly soul, also called the karmic soul, was the one judged in the Underworld, weighed against one’s sins.
As for he mortal soul, also called the spirit essence, it governed thought, and, to put it plainly, it represented one’s most rational state, stripped of all distractions.
But unlike the seven spirits, which could be separated, the three souls couldn’t be divided unless one died. Which meant that if Feng Qingyun’s illusion was constructed solely based on his three souls, then there would be no such thing as a “real” or “fake” self. Every Feng Qingyun governed by a different soul was still the true Feng Qingyun, just with subtle differences in temperament.
For example, the heavenly soul was said to be pure, gentle, and utterly free of negative emotion.
The illusion beneath Long Yin’s feet shifted and merged until all variations condensed into a single warm light as he walked toward it. After an unknown period of time, his foot stepped onto a stone slab.
The moment Long Yin stepped forward, the gentle white glow burst open, splintering into a small, seemingly perfect world, but when he looked back, he realized that the slab he stepped on was none other than the stone at the Main Gate of the Xiān Gōng Sect.
His heart tightened slightly as snow drifted from the sky.
It was early winter, and a few young attendants swept the steps with their heads bowed, but the stone path remained slick. Following the path in his memory, Long Yin passed the practice grounds outside the Main Hall, then the sword pavilion, and at last, beneath snow-laden pines and cypress, he saw a figure both familiar and strange.
He froze.
A delicate, jade-carved boy stood in the wind and snow, his little face tense with concentration as he practiced sword forms.
The Feng Qingyun he had never seen.
The Feng Qingyun he had missed.
His youth.
Long Yin stood there dazed for a long time as the snow suddenly grew heavier, with flakes landing even on the boy’s long lashes. At last, Long Yin’s throat moved, and he couldn’t help calling softly: “…Qingyun.”
The boy paused, stopping mid-form. He turned in the snow, eyes filled with uncertainty as he looked toward the newcomer.
“This big brother… how do you know my name? Do you know me?”
Of course, he knew him. Even the name Qingyun was one Long Yin had chosen for him. Unfortunately, the Feng Qingyun trapped in the illusion had forgotten, but Long Yin remembered.
Hearing him call “big brother,” Long Yin’s heart softened all over again. He walked forward, brushing snow from the boy’s shoulder, then teased: “Why not call me uncle?”
Feng Qingyun, now half his height, had to tilt his head back to look at him. And yet, there wasn’t the slightest timidity in his expression as he answered earnestly: “You look way too good. How could I call you uncle?”
Long Yin blinked, then couldn’t help curling his lips, his tone immediately turning arrogant as he asked: “Do I look good?”
Feng Qingyun nodded seriously, eyes sparkling. “You’re… better looking than my Senior Brother.”
For the young Feng Qingyun, comparing someone favorably to his Senior Brother was the highest praise he could give. And Long Yin was so delighted he nearly couldn’t press his own smile down, completely ignoring the second half of the sentence as he suddenly lifted the boy into his arms.
“!”
Feng Qingyun startled, immediately dropping his sword to cling to Long Yin’s neck.
“Big brother, why are you lifting me?!”
But with the heavenly soul in control, his guard was nonexistent toward those he liked. Long Yin’s heart melted completely.
“Want to go down the mountain and play?” he asked.
Feng Qingyun’s eyes lit up instantly, but he hesitated, answering: “…Senior Brother doesn’t let me play with others. He’ll get angry.”
“Why mention him?” Long Yin continued to coax. “Ignore those outsiders. Just tell me, do you want to go down the mountain with me?”
Feng Qingyun hesitated, then whispered: “…I do.”
“Doesn’t that settle it?” Long Yin said with a smile.
He didn’t even use his spiritual power as he simply carried the boy, step by step, down the mountain path he once traveled. The snow was lighter now. With the New Year approaching, the world below the mountain was full of festive color.
Feng Qingyun seemed to be seeing human fireworks for the first time, astonished and dazzled, with eyes shining.
As for Long Yin, he didn’t even need to show his demonic charm. A single stick of candied hawthorn, and Feng Qingyun instantly surrendered, dazed and completely coaxed.
Long Yin’s heart nearly melted again, feeling both tender and secretly delighted. After a long moment, he couldn’t help asking: “Little Sword Master, you’ve never eaten candied hawthorn before?”
“No.” Feng Qingyun shook his head. “Senior Brother won’t let me eat things like this. He says five colors blind the eyes, five sounds deafen the ears, galloping and hunting2…”
He had even recited the classics wrong.
“Alright, alright,” Long Yin quickly cut him off, seizing the chance to plant ideas inside his innocent, impressionable mind: “Don’t recite, Little Sword Master. Your Senior Brother is a bastard who just wants to cage you up, keep you from seeing how wonderful the outside world is. That’s why he won’t let you go down the mountain.”
But Feng Qingyun frowned, turning to him: “Senior Brother isn’t a bas…”
However, halfway through the sentence, that beautiful face, crafted entirely to suit his preferences, leaned closer, raising a brow. Feng Qingyun instantly fell silent, caught between guilt and being dazzled.
In the end, he could only stay quiet for a moment, cheeks red as he popped the last hawthorn into his mouth.
Long Yin couldn’t help but laugh. “Little Sword Master, do you like this Lord’s face that much?”
Feng Qingyun’s ears burned. “I… I don’t…”
He had just opened his mouth to retort when the sugar coating under his teeth suddenly cracked, and the sharp sourness of the hawthorn burst out all at once. Feng Qingyun liked sweets. Hit without warning by the sourness, he instantly scrunched his brows, his whole face wrinkling together, and he couldn’t even finish his sentence.
Seeing that, Long Yin immediately said, “If it’s too sour, don’t eat it. Spit it out, I’ll buy you something else.”
But Feng Qingyun held that piece of hawthorn in his mouth and stubbornly shook his head. His eyes were already watering from the sourness, yet he still forced himself to swallow it.
Long Yin’s heart tightened with distress; he patted Feng Qingyun’s back and asked, baffled, “It’s just a stick of candied hawthorn. Why force yourself like this?”
Only after the sourness faded did Feng Qingyun answer softly: “…Because next time, I might not get to eat it again.”
Long Yin froze and did not speak for a long moment. Under the lantern glow, after saying that, Feng Qingyun bit into the next hawthorn. His eyes were red from the sourness, yet he insisted on finishing the entire skewer.
Because deep inside, he believed that fleeting happiness would vanish like a flower in the night. Once the beautiful big brother left, no one would take him down the mountain again.
So he had to cherish it.
Watching him, Long Yin felt as if someone had suddenly clenched a fist around his heart. When Feng Qingyun finally finished the candied hawthorn, Long Yin abruptly scooped him up without a word and headed toward the market. Then, under Feng Qingyun’s stunned gaze, he practically bought out the entire street.
Merchants turned their heads to stare, and Feng Qingyun’s ears turned bright red.
But once all those pastries and snacks were set out before him, he instantly threw all those gazes behind him. They were all ordinary treats that even mortals had eaten countless times. Yet Feng Qingyun looked at them with wide, shining eyes, as if he were seeing a lifetime’s worth of treasure.
However, he had cultivated fasting since childhood. Even if he let himself indulge, he still couldn’t eat much. Just as he was looking regretfully at the leftover snacks, Long Yin lifted a hand and swept all the untouched pastries and fruits into his storage ring. Then, along with the countless spiritual tools and pills inside, he slipped the ring onto Feng Qingyun’s ring finger.
“!”
Feng Qingyun’s eyes widened as he instinctively tried to pull his hand back, mumbling, “This is too valuable. I… can’t take it…”
“You can.” Long Yin cut off his self-effacing words, staring at him steadily beneath the lantern light. “You’re worth it.”
Feng Qingyun froze.
You’re the Little Rose I sought across two lifetimes. Of course, you’re worth everything I have.
Long Yin pinched his cheek gently. Under the warm lights, he murmured, “From now on, I’ll always stay with you. Don’t be afraid.”
The young Feng Qingyun didn’t understand what “don’t be afraid” referred to. After all, he had just experienced the happiest day of his life and had no idea that anything frightening might lie ahead.
He finally accepted the ring, overwhelmed and flustered, yet somehow, the giver seemed even happier than he was. The man said nothing more as he simply stood beneath the lanterns, gazing at him without blinking.
Feng Qingyun couldn’t explain why, but seeing him like that stirred a strange ache in his chest. It was as though Long Yin were desperately trying to retrieve something lost, knowing it was an illusion, knowing it was a dream, yet unwilling to wake up.
And after that, time seemed to speed up.
Long Yin watched with his own eyes as the boy gradually grew up, blossoming into a youth whose elegance drew countless admiring gazes. And what followed seemed like something that could only occur in a parallel world, too beautiful even for dreams.
Under Long Yin’s careful care, the young Feng Qingyun became an adult. During that time, the number of gifts he received became so many that even with storage rings, the rings themselves stacked high like a little mountain.
And like a small, soft little animal, Feng Qingyun hid them all carefully in his sleeping quarters, sitting on his bed to count them each time he returned from a trip down the mountain.
But at some point, while counting, his heart thumped, and suddenly, something changed.
On his hundredth birthday, barely the age of a young adult for a rose spiritual plant, he discovered that he had grown a flower bud.
Feng Qingyun was busy admiring the birthday gift Long Yin had given him. The moment he realized the bud had appeared, he fell onto his bed with a pounding heart, staring blankly for a long time before understanding what it meant. Then, his face turned bright red, almost steaming, and he buried himself in his pillow, unable to get up.
But the awakening of affection, colliding with mutual love, was intoxicating.
……………..
Despite the Xiān Gōng Sect’s wealth, nothing should have been able to move him. Yet on the day he formed his core, Long Yin gifted him a sword. The moment the sword left its sheath, its light pierced straight into the heavens, overshadowing all things, and even his Master stood stunned for several seconds.
Feng Qingyun too stood frozen, unable to believe it. When he came back to himself, he ignored the calls behind him and rushed down the mountain.
And Long Yin hadn’t gone far, standing there as if waiting for him on purpose.
“Long Yin!” Feng Qingyun blocked his path, calling his name directly. “Stop! What is the story behind this sword you gave me?”
Long Yin raised a brow instead of answering. “What, the Little Sword Master doesn’t like it?”
Feng Qingyun’s face heated. “I’m not a Sword Master yet, you keep…”
But the affection in that title was so heavy that he couldn’t bring himself to reject it. Holding the sword tightly, he lowered his head. “…Master says I can’t accept rewards without merit. It’s too precious…”
Yet even as he said so, he still clung to the sword with both arms, absolutely unwilling to let go.
“So… what is this sword made of?”
“It’s not some rare material. It’s just…” Long Yin couldn’t help laughing as he deliberately stretched out the sentence, letting Feng Qingyun wait anxiously, before finishing:
“…my heart.”
Feng Qingyun froze. Then, his face burned scarlet, thinking that Long Yin had seen through his feelings and was deliberately teasing him.
“If you don’t want it, Little Sword Master, then give my heart back.” Long Yin raised a brow again.
Feng Qingyun’s ears flushed. He hugged the sword tight and muttered, “Say whatever you want,” then turned and fled back to the Xiān Gōng Sect.
Leaving Long Yin behind, smiling as he watched him go.
………………..
Despite his embarrassment and irritation, Feng Qingyun had been back in his quarters for only two days when he received several letters from Long Yin. However, the contents were so mortifying that he almost couldn’t look.
“Your husband was wrong, Qingyun. Don’t be angry.”
“My beloved’s bud has opened, may I take a look?”
The phrases made Feng Qingyun blush from ear to the base of his neck. He nearly buried his head under the blankets, but he was inexperienced and easily coaxed.
In a hundred years, no one had ever treated him like that. So after pulling his head out from under the blankets, he shamefully, but happily, reread the letters several times, then forgot all about his Senior Brother and went down the mountain again.
But Feng Qingyun went down the mountain too frequently.
In the end, even Mu Hanyang noticed something was off. Jealous yet restrained by their Master’s strict orders, he could only assign Bai Ruolin to follow and watch him. The little girl loved excitement, so she eagerly demanded to go with him. Feng Qingyun tried to refuse several times, but finally had no choice but to bring her.
She had insisted on watching a play. But when they arrived, the show was all about romantic entanglements, which she didn’t like, yawning in boredom. Yet Feng Qingyun, listening to the play, suddenly felt his heart pounding as he stood frozen in place. He was no longer sorrowful or wistful like in his previous life, but blushing and nervous, barely able to hold his brush. When he finally finished copying the lyrics, he glanced around shyly, as if searching for someone.
“…Big brother?” The girl rubbed her eyes, nearly asleep. But when she saw he was about to leave, she grabbed his wrist, saying, “Senior Brother told me not to let you go find bad people!”
“…He’s not a bad person.”
He’s my beloved.
But he was far too embarrassed to say that aloud.
Bai Ruolin blinked sleepily, about to ask something, when the stage moved on from romance to a war piece, making her eyes brighten instantly. Feng Qingyun silently sighed in relief. Then, just like the warrior in the story, he drew a protective circle around her and whispered, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
The girl nodded without even looking at him, and Feng Qingyun slipped away, carrying the freshly copied poem.
He walked beneath the bustling lanterns, clearly searching for someone. But after circling the entire street, he still hadn’t found him. Just as anxiety stirred, he turned and ran straight into someone’s chest.
“!”
The man’s amused voice sounded: “Where did this little beauty come from? Falling into my arms like this, does your beloved know?”
Heat and happiness rose together in Feng Qingyun’s chest. His cheeks flushed even redder as he lifted his head.
“…Where did you come from?”
“This Lord is everywhere,” Long Yin answered with smugness.
Seeing him act so unseriously, Feng Qingyun grew annoyed and slapped him lightly.
“Alright, alright,” Long Yin laughed, catching his wrist. “Spare me, Little Sword Master.”
Flustered and angry, Feng Qingyun was about to speak again when Long Yin suddenly reached out and placed something in his hair, making him freeze. Feng Qingyun raised a hand and found a hairpin, but when he took it off, he saw a flawless rose-shaped, still in the shape of a bud and not yet blooming.
With that, his face instantly turned crimson.
Long Yin smiled. “How is it? Do you like it?”
Feng Qingyun felt he had been taken advantage of for no reason. Face burning, he muttered while touching the rosebud at the end: “…Such fine Tianshan jade… and you ruined it like this.”
Long Yin raised a brow. “Given to my beloved,” he asked, “how is that ruining it?”
Holding the hairpin, Feng Qingyun whispered, “…It is ruining it.”
But though he said that aloud, his hand still clutched the hairpin tightly, refusing to let go.
Long Yin smiled, but before Feng Qingyun could react, he reached into Feng Qingyun’s arms and drew out the piece of paper, asking, “What’s this?”
Feng Qingyun snapped back to himself, his face instantly heating as if on fire. He lunged to snatch it back.
“Hey! Wait!”
“What is it?” Long Yin narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “Isn’t this for me?”
Feng Qingyun’s breath caught, but after a long moment, he finally whispered, “…Yes.”
“Then what’s there to hide?” Long Yin lowered his gaze. “Let me see what my Little Rose wrote for me.”
Before Feng Qingyun could stop him, Long Yin began to read:
“Only when mountains flatten, and riverbeds run dry,”
Even inside a dream, even having forgotten all that had occurred in reality… hearing his own feeling recited aloud made Feng Qingyun’s heart tighten involuntarily.
Would Long Yin find him foolish? Childish? Too much?
“And the earth moves to become one with the sky,
Only when winter has thunder and summer has snow,
Only then would I be willing to let you go3.”
When the last character fell, Feng Qingyun’s fingers tightened around the hairpin, and the world seemed to fall utterly silent. After who knew how long, Long Yin chuckled softly.
“You’re still young. You don’t understand what ‘a lifetime’ truly means.”
Feng Qingyun’s heart sank. He wanted to argue he was not young at all, but before he could, Long Yin’s tone shifted: “But since this Lord agrees with the sentiment… then a lifetime is a lifetime.”
He then lifted the paper in front of Feng Qingyun, saying quietly, “Let this be the witness. Let Heaven and Earth be the matchmakers. If the Little Sword Master ever regrets this, then you’d be the one abandoning your poor, devoted husband.”
And with that, the very poem Mu Hanyang had once burned in embarrassment was now carefully folded, treated as a treasure, and put away.
Feng Qingyun froze, staring at him in the lantern light. After a long, breathless pause, he muttered: “…I’m not little anymore. I… I’ve already grown a flower bud.” But the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them instantly as his ears flamed red.
“Yes, yes,” Long Yin laughed gently. “Then can I kiss you, little grown-up?”
Feng Qingyun flushed even redder at the new address, but in the end, with trembling lashes, he nodded lightly. Under the lantern glow, the distance between them slowly disappeared, until not even light could slip through. But the kiss did not last long…
…Because once their lips parted, Feng Qingyun seemed bewitched, leaning limp against Long Yin, silent for a long time.
Long Yin blinked and gently released him.
“…What’s wrong?”
Feng Qingyun shook his head, his lashes trembling like the flutter of some dreamlike butterfly’s wing. After a long while, he murmured as if half in a dream:
“Nothing. I was just thinking…”
“…It would’ve been wonderful if I’d met you earlier.”
If you’d been the one to raise me, how wonderful that would have been.
That would be a long, long life. A life without regrets. A life without missing each other. But dreams end.
And when they end, people wake.
Long Yin lifted a hand, brushing Feng Qingyun’s long hair behind his ear. He gazed at him for a moment beneath the lantern glow, then spoke with soft certainty: “You’ve remembered.”
“…You noticed that fast?” Feng Qingyun smiled faintly, lips curved. “Makes sense, though. You’re the Heavenly Dao.”
His tone teased, yet held no resentment or anger, only calm, but Long Yin still swallowed lightly, watching him with caution. Once he was sure Feng Qingyun truly was not angry, he finally relaxed and teased back: “So, what triggered your memory? Was it…the kiss?”
Feng Qingyun didn’t answer, only watching him with gentle eyes. Unable to restrain himself, Long Yin drew closer, whispering: “Recovering your memory with a kiss alone… My Little Rose seems more and more like the spirits in old tales.”
The terrifyingly threatening Feng Qingyun from earlier seemed to be gone. At the moment, he only smiled tenderly back, saying: “And what I am… surely you of all people know best.”
Long Yin wrapped an arm around him beneath the moonlight, leaning close, and Feng Qingyun did not avoid him. After kissing his lips again, Long Yin murmured: “They say those led by the heavenly soul are pure and gentle… Truly, the reputation is deserved.”
Hearing the praise, Feng Qingyun only lowered his eyes, letting him kiss and stroke him without resistance and not a trace of anger. Seeing him like that, Long Yin couldn’t help needling: “So… my Little Rose truly isn’t angry about earlier?”
With that, Feng Qingyun seemed to hear something amusing. His eyes shimmered like fine ripples as he smiled, asking: “What is there to be angry about? I pity you more than anything.”
The words were so impossibly gentle that Long Yin felt his heart melt. It was the first time in either of his lifetimes he’d heard Feng Qingyun speak to him like that, and for a moment, without needing to be asked, he nearly confessed everything.
But the gentler he was, the more dangerous he became, and Long Yin knew that well, so he forced himself to stay firm, preparing to secretly probe his thoughts…
Only to find that under the rule of the heavenly soul, Feng Qingyun’s mind was pure and flawless like untouched jade, with not a single scar or ripple for him to read.
So Long Yin could only pull him closer by the waist and whisper: “Since you pity me so… could you secretly tell me how you plan to punish me once we leave this dream?”
“Then why don’t you tell me first…” Feng Qingyun lifted his eyes, soft as water. “What exactly is this ‘method where no one will die’ you spoke of?”
Long Yin paused, then laughed.
“No wonder my Little Rose is so gentle today. You’ve been waiting to trick me into talking.”
“I wasn’t gentle before?” Feng Qingyun lowered his head with a soft smile, poking at Long Yin’s chest. “If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t.”
“But as you said… under the heavenly soul, I’m the easiest to persuade.” With that, he wrapped his arms around Long Yin’s neck and lightly tapped the man’s Adam’s apple, continuing: “If you confess now, maybe your sentence will be lighter. If you don’t… well, once this chance passes, there won’t be another. Think carefully.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Long Yin said immediately. “I want to see what method my Little Rose has that could stop me from lying for an entire next lifetime.”
His direct refusal rendered Feng Qingyun speechless, so after a moment, he lifted his eyes and asked: “You know… I’ve always wondered. Does His Majesty the Demon Emperor have some… unusual tastes?”
Long Yin gently caught the hand touching his throat and smiled.
“Such as?”
“…For example, if I slapped you right now,” Feng Qingyun lowered his gaze, his voice soft, “I feel like you’d only get more excited.”
“Is that so?” Long Yin paused, then laughed, guiding Feng Qingyun’s hand to his cheek. “Then why don’t you try?”
But with the heavenly soul in control, free of anger, resentment, or malice, Feng Qingyun naturally could not slap him.
“No.” Feng Qingyun smiled with unblemished purity, though his words were not pure at all.
“Someone else will handle you later. No need to rush.”
Long Yin’s breath trembled as he kissed Feng Qingyun’s pale knuckles.
“Then… could I beg the Little Palace Master to at least have mercy later? Tell him to hit more lightly?”
“That won’t do. After all,” Feng Qingyun tilted his head, his smile curling as he tapped Long Yin’s throat again.
“You clearly enjoy it.”
Long Yin’s breath stuttered. He was just about to speak…
When the weight in his arms suddenly vanished once more.
Feng Qingyun had evaporated, light as cloud and mist, and the dream shattered.
It was like a celestial immortal departing the mortal world, granting someone a fleeting dream, then leaving without a trace. Moonlight no longer fell on Long Yin, and darkness swallowed him once more, and just like the countless nights in the dragon’s cave, only loneliness and gloom remained.
In the endless night, the first thing one forgets is the position of their limbs.
Then the shape of their body.
And finally, their heart.
It was said that a human dies twice: once in the destruction of the body, and once when they are forgotten. But in that darkness, Long Yin did not truly vanish, for even if everyone forgot him, there was still someone who waited.
A faint speck of light spread before him, and though he couldn’t see, his sense of smell returned first, as a rich, overwhelming rose fragrance enveloped him, hot and close enough to drown in.
Then came suffocating pressure.
Long Yin seemed to be lying somewhere, with something weighing on him, and over his mouth, something soft, layered, and moist pressed down, almost smothering him.
Then he finally realized, they were roses.
Vibrant, furious roses.
The thorny vines wrapped lovingly around him, but perhaps too lovingly. A small part scraped across his exposed abdomen, slicing open a shallow wound where blood welled up instantly.
Then, a pale hand dipped into that blood and pressed lightly against his firm muscles.
Long Yin sucked in a breath, but found he could not move his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of pale white. Then he lifted his gaze and froze.
There, draped in a green robe, with half his body bare, stood a breathtaking beauty, looking down at him with a predator’s calm. Blood stained the corner of his lips, smudged by his fingertips. A slender, scarlet tongue swept lightly across that trace of red, too beautiful, and too wicked.
It took Long Yin a long moment to understand. The warm, soft pressure against his cheek, besides the roses…
…Was a thigh.
Feng Qingyun’s white, smooth, and exposed thigh.
T.N: I read a NU review left by a dear reader, and they said this novel is maybe just a tiny bit way too romantic for their lonesome self and well, dear friend, it will only get worse from now on :)) You are right, translating this makes me feel like an abused dog hungrily looking at a couple enjoying a 5 stars dinner in some Michelin restaurant while I drool on the window. Just know that I’m with you, let us suffer together ❤️
- I probably said this once before, but here’s a recapitulation: Hun and Po are types of souls in Chinese philosophy and traditional religion. Within this ancient soul dualism tradition, every living human has both a hun spiritual, ethereal, yang soul which leaves the body after death, and also a po corporeal, substantive, yin soul which remains with the corpse of the deceased. Some controversy exists over the number of souls in a person, but a relative consensus states that there are three hun and seven po, with hun representing the lofty, soul ideal, and po being your earthly, mortal desires and feelings. ↩︎
- Fragment of Tao Te Ching byLao Tzu: The five colors make people’s eyes go blind, The five sounds make people’s ears go deaf, The five tastes make people’s mouths brittle, Rushed hunting makes people’s hearts go crazy.Goods hard to come by make people behave harmfully. Because of this, the wise person acts for the belly, not the eye. Hence, he leaves that and takes this. ↩︎
- Fragment of By Heaven! (上邪), also known as Shang Ye!, Oh Heaven!, and Oh God!, a Yuefu poem, a kind of folk poetry, from the Han Dynasty. The same poem Feng Qingyun once sent to Mu Hanyang, but he burned the letter, ashamed of his friends joking about how his little bro was so in love with him. ↩︎
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