TBR CH18

When Gu Shishu found Fu Tingxue, the Immortal Lord had already cast off his shackles entirely. He stood upright in the dimly lit cell, and upon seeing the Demon Lord approach, he turned slightly and nodded at him from a distance.

“How did it go?”

Fu Tingxue asked.

“Everything went smoothly. Wusu will be staying here for the time being… There’s no need for you to remain in this place. When the time comes, just put on a show for him. I’ve prepared pear blossom wine—shall we have a drink?”

Gu Shishu should not have thought of inviting Fu Tingxue to drink the moment he saw him in that dark prison cell. For a brief moment, he wrestled with the thought that had suddenly surfaced in his mind. In the end, he decided to take him out first.

Until the words left his mouth, he had not even considered offering the Immortal Lord a drink.

But the thought had come naturally and effortlessly turned into speech.

Fu Tingxue seemed slightly surprised. He hesitated for a brief moment but eventually agreed, only asking softly:

“Why the sudden thought… The Demon Lord still brews pear blossom wine?”

“It’s merely something others brew and send to the Demon Palace,”

Gu Shishu answered rather indifferently, then, as if belatedly realizing something, smiled at Fu Tingxue.

“Rest assured, Immortal Lord. It’s good wine.”

…That was not what he was asking.

Fu Tingxue, of course, did not doubt that the Demon Lord would offer him anything but the finest wine. However, as he gazed into those unconcerned eyes, his pale pupils contracted slightly, carefully concealing his emotions.

“Mm.”

He knew Gu Shishu had forgotten—forgotten the Forgetfulness Elixir he had personally given him.

Meanwhile, Gu Shishu was discreetly observing Fu Tingxue.

The Immortal Lord was adept at concealing his emotions. That was fine. Gu Shishu was like a seasoned hunter, meticulously tracking even the faintest traces, searching for the dust left behind by a butterfly’s wings in a vast web.

Yet even the hunter found himself unable to believe the vulnerability he glimpsed in his prey.

A flicker of sorrow.

Could he, too, feel heartache?

Two people. Two wine cups. And the person before him had never changed.

Fu Tingxue’s skin was porcelain white. Holding a jade wine cup, he seemed even more like a figure sculpted from jade than the vessel itself. He stared at his own reflection in the cup’s surface. As the ripples distorted his image into something blurred and indistinct, he finally lowered his head and took a sip of the pear blossom wine.

The initial taste was sharp, its fiery sting cutting through his senses. But afterward, a lingering floral fragrance spread gently, leaving a soft, lingering aftertaste.

Despite its gentle name, this wine was a strong one.

Gu Shishu drained his cup in one swift motion, then poured himself another.

Raising his cup, he smiled slightly and asked Fu Tingxue:

“Immortal Lord, does this scene not remind you of centuries ago—of you and me?”

Centuries ago.

Gu Shishu wanted to see whether he would avoid discussing the past where they had parted ways, or if he would speak of it openly. The answer lay within his eyes.

Fu Tingxue hesitated for a moment.

Perhaps he was already slightly tipsy. The Immortal Lord pondered for a moment, uncertain, before asking:

“Which time?”

Shen Nian paced anxiously inside his chamber, his fingers twisting together nervously. Every three minutes, he asked the system, “What should I do?”—but the system had nothing new to say. He was merely seeking a sliver of comfort.

“Host has already determined the Yao King’s purpose for coming. He may not stay long. Furthermore, Host can avoid him.”

“Can I just hide for now—”

Shen Nian asked irritably, unable to even eat the spiritual fruits he usually enjoyed. Any escape plan he came up with was promptly rejected by the system.

But before the mechanical voice could respond, he waved his hand, already knowing what it would say. His voice sharpened as he preemptively answered:

“I know it wasn’t easy to progress this far with Gu Shishu. But—but what if I’m discovered? With Wusu’s personality, I won’t meet a good end.”

The system tried to soothe him patiently, but Shen Nian wasn’t listening.

His face pale, he sat down, scrolling through the system’s marketplace over and over. Due to the earlier incident with Jing Qianshan, his points had been significantly deducted—but not to the point where he couldn’t buy anything.

Yet no matter how many times he searched, he found nothing useful.

It was only then that Shen Nian realized—the marketplace’s inventory was entirely designed for courting the target. There was no consideration given to escape or concealment.

At the time he had accepted this system, he had never hesitated. With each privilege it granted him, he had felt like the chosen one, blessed with unimaginable fortune.

But now, even he sensed that something was wrong.

An inconceivable doubt crept into his mind:

“System, after I complete the conquest of the Demon Lord… then what? Where will I go?”

The mechanical voice hesitated for a moment before crackling back to life:

“Host, do not worry. You may choose to return or remain here. This system grants you the right to resurrect in your original world or continue living here.”

“In this body?” Shen Nian’s voice trembled.

The system fell silent for an even longer pause before explaining:

“Rest assured, Host. Your ‘Irresistible Charm’ aura and other tools will not be revoked. If necessary, a new identity can also be arranged for you.”

Before Shen Nian could fully register the subtle unease hidden within that pause, an unexpected event suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

“Host!”

This time, the system spoke without hesitation. “Calculations indicate that the Yao King is approaching. Leave immediately!”

This endless game of chase and escape… Shen Nian thought despairingly.

But what else could he do right now besides delaying him?

“Why is no one here again?”

Wusu found this hard to believe. “I heard that young master Shen practices his swordsmanship here daily.”

His beast-like, murky pupils flickered—clearly, he was unwilling to let this go so easily.

The servants at the door, oppressed by the Yao King’s overwhelming aura, kept their heads lowered, cold sweat trickling down their backs.

“Young Master Shen… had urgent matters to attend to. If Your Majesty would be willing to wait a little longer…?”

The more something remained concealed behind layers of curtains, the more it provoked curiosity.

But after a moment of contemplation, Wusu decided to let it go for today.

After all, coming to the Demon Lord’s palace every day just to catch a glimpse of a beauty was already quite bold. If he insisted on staying in the palace to wait, it would only invite unnecessary gossip.

Besides, it was just a beautiful young man who bore some resemblance to his Nian Nian—was the Demon Lord truly hiding him away like a precious treasure?

Wusu glanced down at his sharp claws, feeling an itch in his fingers—an urge to destroy something. He suppressed the impulse.

The first thing to be destroyed should be his nemesis—the figure still imprisoned underground.

For the past two days, he had been negotiating terms with Gu Shishu while secretly dispatching his most trusted subordinates to retrieve the Qilin Bone from the demon realm. But both matters required patience.

Gu Shishu understood this.

He also expected Wusu to understand—until the goods were delivered, he would have to wait. He would not be allowed to lay a single finger on the Immortal Lord.

Despite his burning desire for revenge, Wusu had no choice but to bide his time.

Yet, the mere thought of Fu Tingxue—once an untouchable paragon of virtue—now bloodstained, his light-colored hair sullied, shackles binding his wrists and ankles, his breath feeble—made Wusu’s blood boil with anticipation.

“Don’t kill him before I get my turn. And don’t let him go mad either.”

This was his one condition. He wanted to torment a fully conscious Immortal Lord, to savor the pleasure of breaking him.

“Fine,”

Gu Shishu barely seemed to register his demand. His smile was casual, his agreement unhesitating.

Wusu thought back to the last time he saw Fu Tingxue—covered in blood, his once-pale hair stained red, his limbs shackled, his breathing weak. He couldn’t help but doubt the Demon Lord’s reliability and decided to hurry his men along with the delivery of their trade item.

“You should go, Yao King. I won’t touch him for the next two days.”

It was a clear dismissal.

Wusu had no interest in exchanging more pleasantries, but just as he was about to step out of the hall, he suddenly stopped and turned back.

“That beauty of yours—when will you let me meet him? If he’s truly unwell, I could take a look. Why hide him away like this, Demon Lord? Surely, you’re not afraid I’d lay a hand on him?”

“Oh?”

Gu Shishu’s reaction was one of mild surprise, as if Wusu’s words puzzled him more than anything.

“What, you mean to say you haven’t seen him even once these past few days?”

Wusu scoffed. Gu Shishu was clearly playing dumb. Shen Nian had avoided him with uncanny precision each time—if no one had been tipping him off, Wusu would never believe it. And if someone within the Demon Palace was aiding him, how could the Demon Lord not know?

Unfortunately, the entire palace was layered with restrictive enchantments. He couldn’t simply track Shen Nian’s aura directly.

In the grand scheme of things, Shen Nian was merely a side dish compared to Fu Tingxue, but the repeated setbacks irritated Wusu nonetheless.

Gu Shishu’s momentary surprise lasted just the right amount of time before he leisurely smiled again.

“I’ve never deliberately kept him from you,” he said with a touch of helplessness. “Perhaps there’s simply no fate between you two. But if you truly wish to see him, I’ll summon him to the banquet when we celebrate the arrival of the Qilin Bone.”

Gu Shishu was practically more of an old fox than Wusu himself.

Despite his impatience, Wusu managed to restrain himself.

Not much longer now. Not much longer.

Fu Tingxue was imprisoned. The Qing Shuang Sword was out of his grasp. For the first time in centuries, his chest no longer ached with the torment of sword intent. In its place, only dark thoughts flourished unchecked.

He would have his vengeance.

And when his beloved Nian Nian was finally free, he would rejoice with him.

Gu Shishu remained seated in the grand hall, lifting his gaze to watch the Yao King’s departing figure.

So weak, yet so arrogant.

Hmph. Someone like him only knew how to prey on the weak. The Sword Sovereign of Qingcheng had stood at the peak of the immortal sects for centuries, and Wusu had never dared to seek vengeance. But the moment Fu Tingxue fell from grace, he came rushing in like a scavenger.

Why hadn’t Fu Tingxue…? No.

Perhaps it was time to push this matter up the agenda.

One side: the Yao King.

The other: himself and Fu Tingxue.

The difference in strength was obvious.

Good.

The Demon Lord dismissed Wusu in his mind, then turned his thoughts back to Fu Tingxue.

“Which time?”

Even Gu Shishu had thought he had forgotten.

He had only meant to refer to that time—the day they had agreed to drink the Forgetfulness Elixir.

He had assumed Fu Tingxue would respond in kind, or perhaps avoid the topic entirely, claiming he had forgotten.

That was fine. Gu Shishu believed he could read even the subtlest shift in Fu Tingxue’s expression, tell whether he was lying.

But when Fu Tingxue had asked that question in return, Gu Shishu suddenly remembered—

There had indeed been another time.

One that was even more like this moment.

The first time Fu Tingxue had ever tasted wine.

The first time he had ever said he liked something.

At first, Gu Shishu had thought he meant he liked the wine.

But then he saw Fu Tingxue’s gaze, unwavering, pale pupils locked onto him. Even while holding a jade cup, he seemed more like a piece of carved jade himself—blurred yet luminous.

Gu Shishu had thought, He’s drunk.

So drunk, perhaps, that he couldn’t even tell whether he was speaking of the wine or of the person in front of him.

He had reached out to steady the intoxicated Immortal Lord—only for Fu Tingxue to tilt his head slightly, his damp lips brushing against Gu Shishu’s cheek in a light, lingering touch.

Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

An unmistakable, genuine kiss.

And afterward, Fu Tingxue had slowly repeated the words once more:

“I like you.”

The tremor of that moment—he had deceived himself into believing he had forgotten it.

But now, it resurfaced in his memory, vivid and clear.

Fu Tingxue…

He had drunk the Forgetfulness Elixir.

Did he still remember?

Would you like me to refine this further for improved flow and emotional nuance?