ATAVID CH68

After a long time, he heard his own voice—hoarse, exceptionally quiet, as if terrified that this was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. He murmured in a low whisper: “…Jiang Qunyu.”

At this moment, Jiang Qunyu lacked even the strength to lift his eyes. Too lazy to bother with him, he merely reached out and gave a soft tug at a strand of the other’s hair.

Fuck, what on earth is this idiot Wei Xun doing?

Is he trying to starve him to death?!

He knew it. Wei Xun hadn’t found him agreeable for a day or two; he was clearly seizing this opportunity to intentionally starve him!

Still, Wei Xun’s voice was trembling terribly.

With his vision swimming and his head spinning right now, Jiang Qunyu’s mind was a chaotic mess, and he couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering wildly.

Finally, after a long silence, Wei Xun slowly lowered his eyelashes. With utmost care, he extended his hands and gently cradled the black mist mass within his palms.

His hands, usually fair and slender, were currently covered in wounds. Crimson beads of blood dripped one by one onto the cold white jade steps, blooming into dots of striking red.

Jiang Qunyu felt much better after drinking some blood. Seeing the wasted blood, he found it somewhat pitiful and couldn’t resist complaining: “…You really have a lot of blood.”

Wei Xun said nothing.

The draft of wind blowing through the hall came to a stop.

This time, on the third day of the third lunar month in Xiping Year 47, they reunited once more.

Having drunk his fill, Jiang Qunyu stopped drinking. He urged Wei Xun, “Aren’t you going up yet?”

Yet Wei Xun did not move. Instead, he raised his other hand, gently covering the mass of black mist and completely enclosing him within his palms. Jiang Qunyu’s vision suddenly went dark. Before he could struggle, a drop of warm blood softly landed on his soul body.

That blood actually carried a faint bitterness and saltiness.

Jiang Qunyu struggled a bit but couldn’t break free. Furious and annoyed, he opened his mouth and bit Wei Xun’s palm hard, cursing in exasperation: “You vile man! Did you secretly mix something into the blood?”

Wei Xun’s eyelashes trembled slightly. A long time later, once Jiang Qunyu grew tired of his grumbling and cursing, he finally withdrew his hand and said softly, “Jiang Qunyu, you broke your word.”

Jiang Qunyu blanked, unable to recall what he meant, but he was thoroughly startled by Wei Xun’s overly attached tone.

Since when had his relationship with him become this close?

This wasn’t right, was it?

“What broken word?” Jiang Qunyu’s tone was odd.

Wei Xun’s face was pale to the point of being nearly translucent. He slowly lifted his cold, thin eyelids. Whether it was Jiang Qunyu’s illusion or not, he actually felt that Wei Xun’s features were intertwined with sorrow and grievance.

Wei Xun turned his head away, his thin lips pressed into a straight line as he said, “This time it was seventy-eight days and seven shichen. But you clearly promised me that you would wait for my return.”

“New Year’s Eve has long since passed.”

With him putting it this way, Jiang Qunyu finally recalled the original agreement.

Perhaps because Wei Xun’s realm had broken through by another two layers, making his demonic qi increasingly pure, it took only a short moment after drinking the blood for his dissipated soul body to gradually coalesce, shifting back into the familiar form of the handsome youth from before.

Standing on the white jade steps a few levels higher, Jiang Qunyu casually stretched his waist, his features carrying a hint of bewilderment. He couldn’t quite remember his state of mind when he originally promised to wait for Wei Xun, and he was even a bit baffled as to how he had agreed back then.

But thinking about it carefully, the one who failed to keep the promise was indeed him. It was just that he was never one to strictly adhere to commitments by nature anyway. The moment he thought of the reason behind his tragic death last time, a surge of anger flared up in his chest again.

He huffed and complained to Wei Xun: “It’s not like I did it on purpose. You have no idea—I was reading a storybook in the warm pavilion when I ran into Yin Zhu and Wei Miao. Those two actually weren’t dead yet. They were most likely after that useless lotus of yours, but the Nine-Heaven Immortal Lotus had already been hidden well by me. They couldn’t find it no matter how much they searched, so they wanted to use spiritual energy to destroy the top floor.”

“I had originally stored that immortal lotus inside my Qiankun Pouch, but my luck just happened to be terrible and the bag accidentally fell out. To protect that useless lotus of yours, I could only fight Yin Zhu. He originally couldn’t beat me, but who knows where he dug up a strange bead from. After swallowing it, his cultivation suddenly exploded, and in the end, he actually dragged me down to perish together with him.”

The more Jiang Qunyu spoke, the angrier he became. Yet Wei Xun suddenly relinquished all the strength in his body, leaning over slightly to rest his head softly against his shoulder, his voice terribly hoarse: “That immortal lotus… if it’s gone, it’s gone. Jiang Qunyu, are you stupid?”

At worst, he would simply think of another method.

Jiang Qunyu’s entire body froze, his scalp instantly tingling. Feeling that this scene was absurdly bizarre, he instinctively shrank back and spoke in alarm and suspicion: “Have you been possessed by someone?”

Otherwise, why would he suddenly lean against him?

He just felt that ever since waking up this time, Wei Xun was far too abnormal, looking completely like a different person compared to before.

Yet the emotion Wei Xun displayed at this moment clearly leaked an unspeakable strangeness.

Jiang Qunyu could only desperately brainwash himself in his mind: Isn’t it just leaning on a shoulder? In the past, when comforting my bros, I’d throw an arm around their shoulders and pat their backs too. This little matter amounts to nothing.

After a bout of self-consolation, he barely managed to suppress that awkward sense of strangeness in his heart. Keeping a blank face, he thought to himself that Wei Xun couldn’t possibly keep leaning on him like this forever.

Before he could adapt, Wei Xun said softly, “…You are the most important one. Jiang Qunyu, you are the most important one. You clearly promised me that you would wait for my return, but you lied to me.”

“Cough, cough, cough, cough—”

Jiang Qunyu had been letting his imagination run wild, trying his best to associate Wei Xun’s face with a good bro or that white cat that always curled up next to his computer. Hearing these words out of nowhere, he was instantly so startled his entire body stiffened, and he burst into a violent fit of coughing, even the tips of his ears turning bright red.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Wei Xun has really gone mad!

Shocked, he took a large step backward, frantically widening the distance between the two of them.

Inside the Jade Capital Tower, countless eerie blue soul fires floated quietly, rippling out fine and gentle halos of light that fell upon Wei Xun’s face.

The youth slowly raised his eyes. His pitch-black pupils were densely bloodshot, a heavy ring of dark purple-black tracing beneath his eyelids. His complexion was deathly pale without a shred of blood, and his plain white long robe accentuated his thin silhouette. He actually resembled a solitary soul or a malicious ghost that had crawled out from the purgatory of the Nine Serenities, his entire being wrapped in a persistent, bleak coldness.

His gaze rested obsessively on Jiang Qunyu. Jiang Qunyu suddenly felt a bit panicked, and an absurd thought uncontrollably popped into his mind.

He constantly felt as though in the next instant, Wei Xun would lean over and kiss him.

He immediately cut off this terrifying thought. With great effort, he calmed his wildly racing heart, no longer wishing to look at Wei Xun’s bizarre appearance. He turned around and walked briskly up the white jade steps, wanting nothing more than to hurry up and escape.

Yet behind him followed a lunatic. No matter how fast Jiang Qunyu climbed, Wei Xun consistently followed behind him at an unhurried pace—neither too much nor too less, precisely one jade step apart.

Their shadows were pulled very long beneath the eerie blue soul fires. From time to time, as a gentle wind blew past, the shadows would sway slightly, twisting and entangling together like a venomous snake lurking in the dark, waiting for an opportunity to strike. It exuded a piercing chill, pursuing step by step.

Jiang Qunyu’s face was practically twisting.

He had barely recovered a bit of strength, and climbing so many stairs right now left him nearly too breathless to breathe.

It was just that he still hadn’t figured out what exactly was going on. Didn’t he just die once? Why did it feel like Wei Xun had suddenly gone mad after he woke up?

Did things happen this way the previous few times?

Jiang Qunyu thought about it, and they hadn’t.

With great difficulty, Jiang Qunyu finally made it to the top floor. Before he could even catch his breath, he was too panicked and accidentally tripped, tumbling to the floor.

Before he could get up, Wei Xun behind him had already leaned down. A hand so ice-cold it possessed not a single degree of warmth gently grasped his ankle.

That touch was far too freezing. Jiang Qunyu’s entire body stiffened, his pupils contracting abruptly as the panic in his heart instantly surged to the top of his head, leaving him entirely dazed.

He used his other foot to kick at Wei Xun, his heart practically leaping into his throat. He constantly felt that in the next instant, Wei Xun would grip his ankle and drag him right in front of himself.

Fortunately, Wei Xun merely kept his eyelids lowered, casting a flat glance over. His hand rubbed over Jiang Qunyu’s ankle, asking in a cold voice, “Does it not hurt?”

Seeing that this lunatic had no further aggressive movements, Jiang Qunyu hurriedly braced himself against the floor to scramble up, his cheeks flushed from holding his breath as he growled at him: “It doesn’t hurt! Why are you chasing after me for no good reason?”

Wei Xun had already reined in all the emotions around his body—be it sorrow, anger, or the deep, hard-won joy of reclaiming what was lost. He said, “I merely wished to go upstairs. You were the one running the entire time.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

“Then who told you to say those kinds of words? Don’t you find it ominous?” Jiang Qunyu asked.

As the words fell, the aura around Wei Xun’s body turned freezing in an instant, and the surrounding air seemed to solidify.

He lifted his eyes to look at Jiang Qunyu, his gaze piercingly cold as he repeated those words syllable by syllable: “Ominous?”

Failing to notice his abnormality, Jiang Qunyu nodded frankly: “Yeah. Since when did our relationship become so good?”

Wei Xun spoke no further. A faint gloom shrouded his features, and he had inexplicably grown angry again.

Ceasing to speak, he walked ahead on his own accord.

Jiang Qunyu curled his lip, not knowing what he was throwing a tantrum over this time, merely finding him incomprehensible and volatile.

Standing in place, he muttered and quietly cursed for a good while before lifting his eyes to scan his surroundings. Only then did he discover that the entire top floor still remained in a state of ruin, bearing not a single trace of having been repaired.

It was exactly the same as when he and Yin Zhu had perished together—broken beams and ruined tiles scattered across the floor, the wind pouring in from the holes, carrying a bone-chilling cold.

“It’s been so long, why haven’t you repaired the Jade Capital Tower yet?” Jiang Qunyu couldn’t help but click his tongue, truly unable to comprehend what Wei Xun was thinking. In this freezing weather, with the roof broken like this and the cold wind blasting straight inside, didn’t he feel cold?

Wei Xun lowered his eyes: “I don’t want to repair it.”

“…” Jiang Qunyu was momentarily at a loss for words, finally squeezing out a sentence after a long pause: “Your hobbies are quite unique.”

To actually love living in a broken tower—then why did he always fight him for the bed before? So many issues.

He sat down in front of Wei Xun. The wind was somewhat strong, so Jiang Qunyu shrank his neck, leaning closer in front of Wei Xun’s face. Tilting his head, he asked again: “Are you really not cold?”

Wei Xun tugged his lips into a brief smile, his tone stiff: “I am not cold.”

Such a massive temper.

Jiang Qunyu truly couldn’t fathom Wei Xun’s blowing-hot-and-cold disposition, nor could he figure out where he had provoked him. Ultimately being soft-hearted, he magnanimously raised his hand to set up a layer of barrier, completely isolating the cold wind from the top floor. Following that, he said to Wei Xun with an air of jubilation: “Don’t be too moved.”

Wei Xun lifted his eyelids, looking straight at Jiang Qunyu. He asked, “Why do you do this?”

“Because I am kind-hearted,” Jiang Qunyu stated with absolute seriousness.

Wei Xun’s gaze darkened slightly. Failing to receive the answer he desired, he spoke no further, merely locking his gaze straight onto Jiang Qunyu with a hint of stubbornness.

Jiang Qunyu had no mind to deeply investigate the meaning within his gaze. He suddenly recalled a matter of vital importance out of nowhere, immediately speaking up: “Wait, have you seen my Qiankun Pouch?”

He sprang to his feet, beginning to search all over the room.

He remembered that a split second before Yin Zhu dragged him to leap down, he had thrown that Qiankun Pouch upward. It couldn’t possibly have been taken away by Wei Miao, right?!

Jiang Qunyu searched inside and out for a full round but found nothing, sinking into a bout of despair for a moment.

Inside that bag were stored the spiritual stones and demon beads he had accumulated over a long time—too many to count. For it to just vanish like this, his heart ached to the point of nearly vomiting blood.

To his surprise, when he sat back down listlessly, he spotted that very Qiankun Pouch within Wei Xun’s hand.

Jiang Qunyu’s eyes lit up in an instant, his pupils staring sparklingly at Wei Xun, his tone filled with pleasant surprise: “How is it with you?”

As he spoke, he reached out to snatch it, but with a light turn of his wrist, Wei Xun switched directions and hid the Qiankun Pouch behind his back, refusing to give it to him.

Jiang Qunyu: “…Fuck.”

This idiot.

Staring expressionlessly at Wei Xun’s face, which was hard to read for joy or anger, he spoke reluctantly: “Fine. What do you want me to promise you this time?”

Jiang Qunyu appearing this way made him look exactly like a cat caught by the scruff of its neck, left with no choice but to listen obediently.

Only then did the frost within the depths of Wei Xun’s eyes abruptly shatter. His expression softened, and he no longer minded that comment of Jiang Qunyu’s about being ominous. He comforted himself, thinking that perhaps Jiang Qunyu was merely blaming him for failing to protect him well, which was why he spoke without thinking.

Wei Xun had been a favored child of heaven since childhood; whatever he wished to do, he simply did it. Even when he later fell into demonhood and the world condemned him for betraying his sect and slaying his kin, he had never harbored a single shred of regret.

There were very few matters in this world that could cause regret to bloom in his heart, yet each and every one of them arose entirely because of Jiang Qunyu.

He regretted their very first encounter, when he was entangled in demonic qi and possessed a violent temperament, treating Jiang Qunyu with far too much cruelty, filled with defensiveness and ruthlessness.

He regretted the second time, when he believed Jiang Qunyu truly was merely his heart demon, leading him to try every means possible—even holding onto the thought of perishing together—to kill him.

He regretted the third time, deceiving him, when Jiang Qunyu said he hated him.

He regretted the fourth time, failing to protect him well, left with no choice but to watch Jiang Qunyu vanish right before his eyes.

He regretted the fifth time, when his cultivation was entirely dissipated and he became a so-called fallen genius in the mud, unable to even protect himself, left to watch helplessly with a lack of power as he vanished right before his eyes once more.

He regretted the sixth time…

It seemed he had made a mistake yet again.

He was terrified of losing Jiang Qunyu, so he attempted to confine him to a place he believed to be safe.

Yet even so, he still lost him once more.

Furthermore, this time around, he didn’t even know how Jiang Qunyu had died. He could only face this ruined Jade Capital Tower, piecing together the scene at that time over and over again, imagining the way he faced the peril entirely alone.

How did Jiang Qunyu die? Was he afraid when he died?

Therefore, it was only right for Jiang Qunyu to resent him and hate him.

He ought to kill him.

He ought to question him as to why he hadn’t protected him well.

Hating him was fine, cursing him was fine—anything was acceptable.

Rather than appearing like the state before him now, as if that scarce amount of affection between them—which could just barely be considered mutual fondness—had vanished along with the winter of Year 46.

Fortunately, Wei Xun had always been exceptionally capable of self-reconciliation. Very quickly, he found a reason for Jiang Qunyu’s behavior. He thought to himself that Jiang Qunyu truly was a good demon just as he claimed, which was why he couldn’t bear to resent him, the harshest words he could speak being nothing more than that light comment about being ominous.

How could there be a person as good as Jiang Qunyu? Wei Xun thought.

But he didn’t know what he should do anymore. Perhaps he ought to learn to love Jiang Qunyu—love him, love him, love him, love him, love him…

He ought to learn how to better protect him—protect him, protect him, protect him…

He could no longer leave him alone; Cloud Palace was not safe.

He ought to place him completely beneath his very eyelids, binding him to his side to look at him and follow him at every single moment. Only in this way could he truly protect his safety entirely.

He heard his own voice, carrying a panic and unease he hadn’t noticed: “Jiang Qunyu, do you hate me?”

Jiang Qunyu had waited for a long time, assuming he would put forward some highly excessive demand or bizarre question, but he hadn’t expected him to ask this. He merely wished to hurry up and smooth it over so he could get his Qiankun Pouch back, so he said: “I don’t hate you.”

Wei Xun’s tensed body relaxed slightly. He returned the Qiankun Pouch to him, a faint smile curving at the corners of his lips.

That night, the two of them slept together.

Jiang Qunyu was originally unwilling, but Wei Xun said the roof beam in the other room had collapsed and it was very cold.

Jiang Qunyu had no choice but to gnash his teeth and compromise.

Anyway, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.

He thought to himself with zero psychological burden.

Therefore, he naturally didn’t know that after he fell asleep, Wei Xun—just as he had done countless times in the past—intimately gathered him into his arms, his unbridled, dark gaze resting softly upon him, never shifting away for even a single moment.

Terrified that it was a dream, he didn’t even dare to close his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Wei Xun said. “It was my fault.”

……

…………

From then on, Jiang Qunyu felt that Wei Xun had likely gone truly mad.

When he sat beneath the veranda to bask in the moonlight, Wei Xun would quietly accompany him at his side, gazing at the moon together. When he curled up to read a storybook, Wei Xun would take the book over, reading it to him softly word by word. Even when reviewing the memorials sent by the other city lords of the Demon Realm, Wei Xun insisted on moving his desk to guard right beside Jiang Qunyu.

Jiang Qunyu endured it initially, bearing with it for two days, but he truly couldn’t endure it any longer.

Even for brothers with the best relationship, there was no need to be this deeply attached all day long, never leaving each other’s side by an inch, right?

Jiang Qunyu thus recalled Shen Peiqiu in the Blood Moon Pavilion. On a certain occasion, he intentionally brought it up casually again, asking: “How about we go take a look at Shen Peiqiu?”

Jiang Qunyu thought that perhaps going to see Shen Peiqiu could make Wei Xun’s mind turn a bit more normal, leading him to accompany Shen Peiqiu instead of following him all day long.

Hearing this, Wei Xun’s face turned instantly cold, a flash of sinister gloom flitting through his eyes.

He calculated in his mind how many days remained before Shen Peiqiu’s cultivation reached the Great Mahayana Realm. Once that time arrived, he could extract his Spiritual Deer blood and quickly cast him out. Otherwise, Jiang Qunyu would always be thinking of going to see him.

“We aren’t going,” Wei Xun’s tone was icy. He turned his head away. “Jiang Qunyu, do you admire him?”

Jiang Qunyu was dazed, freezing for a good while before reacting. Staring at him with a face full of disbelief, he blurted out: “Are you sick?”

Wei Xun asked him: “Then why do you always want to go see him?”

Jiang Qunyu had never seen a person turn around and falsely accuse someone like Wei Xun. He said testily: “Rest assured, I don’t like men. The person who likes him is you, isn’t it? What does it have to do with me?”

The air turned deathly silent in an instant; even the wind stopped flowing.

Wei Xun slowly turned his head. His eyes were so cold they felt hollow as they rested darkly upon Jiang Qunyu, clearly having been provoked to anger: “You don’t like men?”

“Ha,” he tugged his lips into a brief smile, his gaze resting on Jiang Qunyu’s face without blinking for a second as he asked again, “I admire him? How come I didn’t know I admire him?”

“Jiang Qunyu, just how long are you going to play dumb?”

Jiang Qunyu stared blankly, failing to understand what Wei Xun meant by these words.

He felt inexplicably guilty for some reason, but he still spoke up: “Yeah, I’m straight. Do you understand what straight means? It means I like girls, I don’t do gay stuff.”

Even though I crossed into a BL novel.

And what am I playing dumb about?

Wei Xun is truly incomprehensible.

Wei Xun was truly provoked to a laugh by his anger: “Within the Pillow of Yellow Springs, your heart clearly beat very fast as well.”

“The Pillow of Yellow Springs?” Jiang Qunyu was somewhat bewildered. He asked, “Didn’t I merely save you? Did something else happen back then?”

As the words fell, Wei Xun’s face instantly turned as pale as paper. He turned his head back, staring blankly into Jiang Qunyu’s eyes.

His heart felt as though a piece had been gouged out—empty, aching with a dull throb and a hint of bitterness, nearly robbing him of his breath.

He let out a self-deprecating laugh.

He had vainly hoped to speak with Jiang Qunyu about that early spring that didn’t exist, where they had briefly kissed.

But it was gone.

Within Jiang Qunyu’s eyes lay only complete innocence, retaining not a single shred of a trace from the past anymore.

He had truly and thoroughly forgotten that piece of memory.

Wei Xun wished to say something, but aside from Jiang Qunyu, he no longer possessed any evidence capable of proving the existence of that early spring. Along with it, their first kiss had vanished all the same.