ATAVID CH88

The freezing lake water submerged Jiang Qunyu, and those memories that had once seemed veiled in a layer of thin gauze finally shattered the barriers, cascading into his mind in rapid succession.

In the forty-seventh year of Xiping, the wind sweeping through the Yujing Pavilion carried the faint scent of an unfamiliar flower. Wei Xun had looked at him and said in a soft whisper, “We have shared a kiss before.”

At that time, he had not long awakened for the sixth time. Operating under the assumption that Wei Xun had completely lost his mind, he had tilted back on the bed, laughing uproariously. Yet Wei Xun’s lips had descended just like that, causing Jiang Qunyu to freeze completely on the spot.

In the forty-eighth year of Xiping, Wei Xun kissed him twenty-one times. He forgot.

In the forty-ninth year of Xiping, Wei Xun kissed him forty-four times. He still forgot.

…

In the fifty-first year of Xiping, Wei Xun kissed him countless times. Wei Xun had said, “Do not forget this time, Jiang Qunyu.”

Further back still, it was the deep winter of the sixty-fourth year of Xiping.

A heavy blanket of drifting snow covered the entire courtyard. He and Wei Xun crouched side-by-side in the snow, sculpting snowmen. Turning his head, he caught sight of the crooked, clumsily shaped little snowman in Wei Xun’s hands. Unable to contain himself any longer, a light chuckle escaped his lips: “Wei Xun, the snowman you made is simply too hideous.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Wei Xun turned his head and gently pressed a kiss against his eyes, as soft as falling snow. “Mm. It is not as handsome as the one you made.”

He had been somewhat bewildered, asking Wei Xun why he had kissed him.

Wei Xun replied in a flat tone, “Because I harbor affection for you.”

With the tips of his ears flushing a brilliant crimson, Jiang Qunyu gritted his teeth, refusing to let Wei Xun look at him. He slapped a hand over Wei Xun’s eyes, thinking to himself that he ought to find a quiet place to lie down and properly sort out his chaotic thoughts.

Wei Xun offered a soft laugh. “It matters not. You will likely forget it all in a moment anyway, so there is no need to rush your departure.”

Jiang Qunyu hadn’t understood the meaning behind those words. He simply turned on his heel and slipped away regardless, scaling the apricot tree outside the Yujing Pavilion to let the biting, cold wind buffet him for an entire afternoon.

By the time night fell, he could no longer recall why he had been lying in a tree in the first place.

Thus, he went to seek out Wei Xun. Finding him absent from the Yujing Pavilion, Jiang Qunyu idly wandered over to the main palace, intending to slip through the window to look for him. The moment his fingertips brushed against the window frame—before he could even exert the strength to push it open—the gaze from within the room locked onto him.

The exact instant their eyes met, he froze in his tracks. Wei Xun asked him, “Are you not cold?”

Only then did Jiang Qunyu register the sensation, offering a delayed, “A little.”

His gaze swept across the desk by the window, where two palm-sized snowmen stood arranged side-by-side. Their features were intricately detailed, completely devoid of any past clumsiness. His eyes instantly curved into a smile as he offered a genuine word of praise: “Wei Xun, the snowmen you sculpt are becoming more and more beautiful.”

Wei Xun replied, “One of them was sculpted by you.”

Jiang Qunyu blanked. “When did I sculpt that?”

Wei Xun let out a soft sigh, lightly pinching his cheek. “Utterly hopeless.”

In the eighty-six year of Xiping, Jiang Qunyu finally couldn’t suppress his curiosity any longer, wondering if Wei Xun had sustained some sort of hidden injury. He spent a long time clumsily fumbling around, finally managing to pull apart Wei Xun’s inner robes, only to wake the man up in the process.

Wei Xun stared up at him with a dark, brooding expression. “Not sleeping?”

Jiang Qunyu felt a flash of guilt, yet he forced himself to sound thoroughly righteous: “I was merely curious, that is all! Who told you to act so incredibly secretive lately?!”

Wei Xun replied, “I am simply feeling a little unwell.”

“Where?” Jiang Qunyu asked instinctively.

Wei Xun’s lips curled into a faint smile, a sudden surge of intense desire swirling within the depths of his eyes. Before Jiang Qunyu could even comprehend what was happening, the man leaned over, gently pressing his forehead against Jiang Qunyu’s spiritual vessel.

Operating almost entirely on pure instinct, Jiang Qunyu slowly opened his divine sense without a shred of defense, willingly allowing Wei Xun’s divine sense to penetrate deep into his spiritual palace, intertwining and merging into one.

It was an incredibly comfortable sensation, a numbing warmth that rippled throughout his entire form. Jiang Qunyu felt as though his entire being had been submerged into a soothing hot spring.

In the winter of that very same year, Wei Xun entered a secret realm and retrieved an exceptionally beautiful piece of pale blue jade. Its coloration was light and clear, looking exactly like a patch of starlight crushed into a freezing pool of water.

The moment Jiang Qunyu laid eyes on it, a suffocating ache filled his chest. He secretly deduced that this jade was bound to be gifted to Shen Peiqiu. A sour wave of intense jealousy erupted within him, and the gaze he threw toward Wei Xun carried a distinct, awkward irritation; no matter how he looked at the man, he found him thoroughly displeased.

Later, when Wei Xun requested that he trim his hair, Jiang Qunyu channeled that uncalled-for spark of fury into his movements. He deliberately executed a ruthless cut, shearing off the smoothest, most lustrous lock of hair from the crown of the man’s head.

Yet, he had never anticipated that beneath the pillow, his fingers would brush against a smoothly polished, pale blue safety buckle. It was stunningly beautiful, with red threads and strands of black hair tightly woven together. Jiang Qunyu’s heart began to beat at a terrifying velocity.

When Wei Xun eventually tracked him down, Jiang Qunyu felt a wave of irritation. Why did Wei Xun always manage to find him?

“Why do you always hide in the exact same location?” Wei Xun offered a helpless sigh. “Come down. Let us head back to sleep.”

The safety buckle had thrown his mind into absolute chaos, leaving him restless and unable to sit still for an entire day. Abandoning his attempts to evade him, Jiang Qunyu vaulted straight down from his perch, lifting his head to meet the man’s gaze as he demanded to know why he was gifting it to him.

Wei Xun replied that as long as he looked upon that safety buckle, he would remember him.

Yet, that transient spark of emotion was simply too fleeting. Jiang Qunyu forgot regardless.

He forgot time and time again, and those budding affections vanished repeatedly with each erasure. Wei Xun was left entirely on his own, guarding those memories that Jiang Qunyu might never recall, enduring year after year in absolute isolation.

Within the freezing lake, Jiang Qunyu clutched the spatial pouch tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning stark white. Resting in the center of that pouch was the safety buckle that his past self had treasured so deeply, without ever understanding the reason why.

While those unfamiliar yet intensely intimate memories clashed violently within his mind, a sharp ache tore through his heart as if something were slowly consuming it, the pain so severe it made him want to weep. An endless wave of bitter sorrow climbed up his throat, bleeding into his limbs and merging with the freezing lake water surrounding him, locking his entire body into a rigid chill.

His physical vessel continued to plummet deeper into the depths, cold water forcing its way into his mouth and nose. A suffocating pressure seized him. As he thrashed against the current, a dark dizziness crept across his vision, and his consciousness began to slip away bit by bit.

Just as he was about to completely submerge into the absolute darkness, a steady, powerful force materialized beneath him, firmly catching his descending form.

It was Wei Xun.

He materialized in the water like a silent shadow, the silk ribbon that usually bound his hair long since lost to the currents. His ink-black hair billowed freely through the rushing water, framing his清冷, profound features with an ethereal grace. He simply stared down at the choking Jiang Qunyu, the depths of his eyes completely bottomless.

In the next instant, Wei Xun leaned down, his cool lips sealing over Jiang Qunyu’s. Disregarding the freezing lake water, he breathed a warm, lingering pocket of air into his lungs, slowly reviving the breathing of an entity hovering on the brink of suffocation.

A dense cloud of tiny bubbles continuously rose and scattered between their locked lips, blurring their vision.

Jiang Qunyu stared blankly at the Wei Xun before him, a violent surge of intense sorrow and profound longing erupting within his chest. Even though they were separated by a mere fraction of an inch, an unbidden sensation of a massive void surfaced—as if they were separated by an immense expanse of time, having not seen one another for a long, agonizing duration.

The underwater world was completely dark, save for the weak fragments of light that pierced through the heavy layers of water, fracturing into mottled shadows across their forms. Wei Xun’s ink-black hair drifted wildly through the current, strands brushing softly against Jiang Qunyu’s cool cheek, carrying that distinct, crisp scent unique to him. Extending a long arm, he locked it around Jiang Qunyu’s waist, his grip steady and unyielding as he carefully navigated their ascent toward the surface.

With a loud splash, the two of them broke through the water’s surface. Jiang Qunyu began to cough violently. Wei Xun supported his upper body clear of the water, hoisting him firmly into his arms before striding with measured, steady steps toward the shore.

It was only when they stepped onto the dry earth of the bank that Wei Xun finally set him down.

Jiang Qunyu was completely drenched from head to toe, wet strands of hair plastered against his cheeks and neck in a thoroughly disheveled, dazed state. The moment he parted his lips to speak, he was ruthlessly cut off by Wei Xun’s freezing tone.

“Jiang Qunyu,” the man stated with a mask of pure ice, his thick eyelashes casting slight shadows over his eyes as he parted his lips to deliver a mocking barb. “What exactly does this mean? You state that you do not feel the same way about me, yet why did you risk your neck to retrieve this spatial pouch?”

“It is merely a single safety buckle,” Wei Xun pressed on relentlessly. “Or perhaps you intend to fabricate another excuse, claiming you only dove after it for the sake of the spiritual stones resting inside this pouch?”

Jiang Qunyu remained silent.

Tracking his absolute lack of response, every shred of emotion drained from Wei Xun’s features, his expression turning as cold as absolute frost. Suddenly parting his thin lips, he summoned the lethal weapon he hadn’t touched a single time since Jiang Qunyu’s departure: “Shahun.”

The weapon emitted a sharp screech as a brilliant flash of cold light filled the air, a violent wave of sharp sword intent instantly sweeping across the clearing, dropping the ambient temperature significantly.

In the next fraction of a second, Wei Xun snapped his hand out, grabbing Jiang Qunyu by the wrist and forcing the hilt of the weapon into his palm, locking his fingers over it with an iron grip. Before Jiang Qunyu could even register the action, the man guided that blade-wielding hand and drove it ruthlessly toward his own chest.

Jiang Qunyu’s pupils constricted violently, a massive tremor racking his entire frame as an absolute wave of terror seized his heart. He frantically attempted to slacken his grip and pull back his strength.

Yet Wei Xun’s physical power was staggering; he was completely unable to break free from his hold. He could only watch in absolute horror as Shahun tore through the white fabric of his robes and sliced into his flesh, brilliant crimson blood instantly soaking into the pristine cloth.

Staring at the blooming stain of blood, Jiang Qunyu felt a splitting headache tear through his skull. Driven by equal parts terror and intense panic, his eyes ringed with red as he screamed, “Wei Xun, are you out of your goddamned mind?! You absolute psychopath!”

Wei Xun, however, appeared completely unfazed. Shahun slipped from their fingers, clattering loudly against the stone floor. “I am indeed mad, Jiang Qunyu. I have warned you before—if you ever dare to abandon me again, I shall sever your tendons, strip your skin, and brew your very blood into wine to consume. Therefore, even if it means locking the two of us away in eternal confinement together, I will keep you by my side.”

He lifted his eyes to meet Jiang Qunyu’s, the depths of his gaze swirling with a paranoid devotion that bordered on absolute insanity. “You are free to loathe me, or wish for my slaughter; any of it is acceptable. But you had best love me—because you promised that you would accompany me for eternity.”

Jiang Qunyu stared blankly at him. Both of them were completely saturated with lake water, their wet garments plastered tightly against their skin, outlining their slight forms. Even though a simple invocation of spiritual energy could instantly dry their clothes—and despite the fact that Wei Xun possessed a pathological obsession with cleanliness that was carved into his very marrow—at this exact moment, neither of them possessed the luxury of mind to care about such trivial details.

Jiang Qunyu quietly absorbed those ruthless, bone-chilling declarations. Within the howling wind, he could almost hear the crisp, ringing tones of the silver bell that used to dangle from Wei Xun’s waist.

After a long, heavy silence, he finally opened his mouth, his voice low, raspy, and laced with a slight tremble: “Wei Xun,”

He asked quietly, “Having been forgotten so many times… why do you still harbor affection for me? Are you not tired?”

The savage, lethal threats hovering on the tip of Wei Xun’s tongue ground to an immediate, screeching halt. He blanked for a fraction of a second, his long eyelashes fluttering down.

The terrain of the riverbank sloped gently downward; standing on the slightly lower incline, it made Jiang Qunyu appear a fraction taller than him.

After a prolonged pause, he lowered his head, gently resting it against Jiang Qunyu’s shoulder. Every single defensive spine that had bristled across his form, along with the deep violence and dark brooding he had harbored for over a century, dissolved into absolute nothingness.

“I am not tired,” Wei Xun murmured softly. “It matters not if you cannot remember.”

The tears that had been pooling within Jiang Qunyu’s eyes could no longer be contained, spilling over his lashes and pouring down his cheeks in heavy streams. He had always possessed an incredibly stubborn streak, prioritizing his dignity above all else; even though he was thoroughly overwhelmed by sorrow at this moment, he still craned his neck, deploying a fiercely aggressive tone in a desperate bid to mask his vulnerability. Sobbing heavily, he barked, “Y-You truly have a foul mouth!”

Wei Xun replied softly, “I was wrong. I shall not speak that way again.”

Jiang Qunyu pushed further: “You actually hurled my belongings away!”

“I did not,” Wei Xun stated. “That does not count. I have retrieved a fresh piece of jade; I shall use the strands of hair we sheared on our wedding day to fashion a new one. The previous buckle was only woven with my hair, which was likely an ill omen. Once we swap it for a new one, you will never forget again.”

“That one belongs to me too,” Jiang Qunyu’s voice shook violently. “You possess absolutely zero financial sense! You threw away my spiritual stones and demon beads along with it!”

Wei Xun desperately wanted to counter that he possessed vast hoards of wealth elsewhere, but in the end, he simply whispered, “I was wrong.”

Jiang Qunyu continued to list his offenses: “You actually intended to lock me away. I despise that above all else. Back when we resided in the Yujing Pavilion, I explicitly stated that I wished to venture out into the world with you. Furthermore, during that time, the only entity I could interact with was you, yet you never listened to a single thing I said.”

“The fault lies entirely with me,” Wei Xun murmured against his shoulder. “…Back then, you were always thrusting yourself in front of me to shield me from danger. I was simply terrified of losing you again.”

He offered the confession with absolute, raw directness.

In truth, perhaps reality aligned precisely with Wei Xun’s fears; if he had stubbornly insisted on accompanying Wei Xun out into the world back then, given his volatile mental state during that period, he would have likely departed this realm even earlier, never surviving to accompany the man across those long, grueling years.

“It shall never happen again.”

Though Jiang Qunyu harbored slight doubts regarding the absolute validity of that promise, seeing how swiftly Wei Xun had yielded, his anger began to dissipate.

A patch of fabric on his shoulder had grown thoroughly damp—perhaps from the remnants of the lake water, or perhaps because Wei Xun had wept.

Beside them, Shahun lay discarded on the earth once more, the traces of blood painting the blade remaining wet, looking exceptionally stark beneath the crisp moonlight.

Jiang Qunyu slowly retracted his gaze, staring out across the shimmering surface of the freezing lake. The moonlight poured down from the heavens, fracturing into a vast expanse of silver ripples across the water.

He let out a quiet sigh within his mind, realizing that in this lifetime, he would likely be entangled with this beautiful psychopath for all of eternity.