TBR CH34

 1. Picking Flowers  

The Demon Lord has revived an old habit—plucking a flower each morning to gift to his beloved.  

His technique is practiced and precise, swiftly selecting a snow-dusted, dew-laden branch.  

This tradition traces back to long ago, when Fu Tingxue was still his master. Back then, he often gathered blossoms to adorn the immortal’s austere palace, adding color to its stark elegance.  

During their centuries apart, the white jade vase he had brought remained in its place—dustless, cared for, prominently displayed yet perpetually empty. No one came to fill it with fresh blooms.  

Had there been flowers, they would have been a painful reminder.  

But the vase’s emptiness was its own torment, an unceasing whisper that the black-robed youth who once filled it was gone. The palace stood silent, the immortal’s gaze as lonely as snowfall, lingering on the vase time and again, never daring to breach that hollow space.  

*Gu Shishu no longer loves me*—this was fact.  

*I have not moved on*—this, too, was fact.  

The Immortal Venerable never lied to himself.  

Until that morning, when he opened his eyes to sunlight and breeze spilling through the window, illuminating a branch of pear blossoms in the vase—and the man smiling beside them.  

His dark robes still carried the chill of the outdoors; he had just returned from Little Bamboo Peak.  

Noticing the immortal’s gaze, Gu Shishu set down the vase and drew close. Fu Tingxue, still drowsy, eyes misty, couldn’t say how much of his emotion showed.  

Gu Shishu kissed his eyelids.  

He smelled of morning dew and fresh-cut branches, crisp and cool, utterly intoxicating.  

Fu Tingxue’s fingers trailed up his collar. Though the immortal’s hands were usually cold, they now felt warm against the Demon Lord’s skin, freshly returned from the outdoors. The lightest touch sent heat sparking between them.  

Gu Shishu bent lower, capturing the immortal’s slightly parted lips, swallowing his soft exhales. The kiss tasted like clear spring water, sweet and lingering.  

Half-reclined on the couch, Fu Tingxue melted under the attention, his waist encircled by strong arms.  

“Tingxue, you’re too good,” Gu Shishu murmured against his ear, fingers tracing the marks at the small of his back. “Did you see the pear blossoms?”  

*I saw them, and that’s why I wanted to kiss you.*  

But the thought dissolved into a shuddering breath. Words would only fracture into gasps. His hair spilled like pear petals over the other’s robes.  

So he buried his face in Gu Shishu’s shoulder and let himself be claimed.  

Beyond the Demon Lord’s scent, Fu Tingxue’s blurred gaze caught the white jade vase, its soft glow seeping into his eyes, turning them hazy and bright.  

“Like them?” Gu Shishu’s voice was rough, almost teasing. “I’ll bring you flowers every day from now on. How’s that?”  

…  

And so, on this morning, Fu Tingxue opened his eyes.  

Today’s bloom was different—a twin-plum branch, its cold fragrance laced with the lush crimson hidden beneath icy elegance. The paired blossoms leaned into each other, an intimate promise.  

Who knew where Gu Shishu had found it? He must have planned this for a while.  

“Tingxue.”  

Red threads—spiritual, leaving no mark—had wound around his wrists. Fu Tingxue followed them to their source: the Demon Lord, already dressed in dark robes, his usual wild aura tempered to gentleness in the immortal’s presence. The crimson strands looked startlingly natural against black.  

Gu Shishu extended a hand, amusement in his eyes.  

“Today’s the day we become cultivation partners. Does the Immortal Venerable find this scene to his liking?”  

 2. The Ceremony  

The idea of formalizing their partnership had come up only after the sect leader’s careful probing.  

Centuries ago, Fu Tingxue had prepared for this ritual with Gu Shishu. They had even exchanged heart’s blood in moments of passion, their souls briefly intertwined.  

But fate intervened too swiftly. When Gu Shishu’s demonic blood awakened, his immortal bones were replaced by demonic flesh, and the old pact shattered under the onslaught of his new power.  

A new bond could have been forged—but in those desperate days, neither had the luxury of such thoughts. Survival took precedence, until separation made it moot.  

Now, the matter was finally being revisited.  

Perhaps they hadn’t planned to make it public—

 Though they had considered keeping it private, the sect leader dismissed the idea himself. Neither the Demon Lord nor the Immortal Venerable seemed the type to shy away from love or hide their relationship.  

Frankly, he couldn’t picture these two sneaking around—they practically radiated their devotion, at least in his presence.  

The union of two realm leaders would undoubtedly cause an uproar. The sect leader, fretful to the point of sleeplessness, agonized over every possible scandal before the ceremony. Finally, he sought the Immortal Venerable’s counsel.  

Only then did Fu Tingxue realize the sect leader had likely already deliberated over details as minute as *which region’s jade cups* to serve guests.  

Though the immortal seldom showed interest in worldly affairs beyond Gu Shishu, this drew a faint, startlingly beautiful smile from him—like spring melting frost.  

Gu Shishu, meanwhile, seemed pleased by the sect leader’s thoroughness.  

Neither showed hesitation, which only deepened the sect leader’s anxiety. Tentatively, he asked:  

“Which guests does the Demon Lord and Immortal Venerable intend to… invite?”  

“What do you suggest?”  

Gu Shishu’s question was casual, but the white-bearded sect leader promptly produced a lengthy scroll from his sleeve. Each name bore meticulous annotations. Skimming a few, the Demon Lord found no issue and passed it to Fu Tingxue.  

The immortal glanced through and nodded.  

“Approved.”  

The sect leader, still studying their expressions, felt his relief evaporate.  

“You mean… *all* of them?”  

He’d dug his own grave. While the list was carefully curated, his intent had been for them to *select* attendees. The union of two realm leaders wasn’t an event for just anyone—what if disputes arose?  

Voicing his concerns delicately, he was met with the Demon Lord’s slow, unsettling smile. The oppressive aura around him sharpened, making the sect leader flinch. Gu Shishu’s demonic power exceeded even rumors.  

“If anyone objects, we’ll throw them out.”  

Well. That was one solution.  

In all the realms, who would dare oppose the immortal sect’s foremost master, Fu Tingxue? Who would challenge the Demon Lord?  

Still, such arrogance was unlike the Immortal Venerable’s usual restraint. The sect leader’s gaze flickered toward him—only to find his expression as impassive as ever, seated loftily like carved ice—  

Wait.  

Was that the faintest glimmer of amusement in his pale eyes?  

The sect leader caught only a glimpse, but Gu Shishu saw it clearly. The Demon Lord’s fingers twitched, watching the immortal’s lashes flutter, and felt that familiar itch in his chest.  

This wasn’t Fu Tingxue’s way. Gu Shishu had known that before speaking. Yet not only did he allow it, he seemed to *indulge* it, as if resolved to drown with him.  

How to chronicle this love?  

It deserved the grandest witness the world could offer.  

A once-in-a-lifetime recklessness—a moth, stumbling yet unhesitating, finally plunging into its flame.  

3. Combing Hair

Despite all the prior preparations, even the sect leader had to admit that the bonding ceremony had proceeded far more smoothly than expected.

The most challenging part had, in fact, been sending out the invitations—after all, the news sounded too much like an absurd rumor.

Fortunately, the sect leader had the two of them leave unique spiritual imprints on the invitations in advance, making it impossible to forge. Whether or not the guests believed the rumors, they had no choice but to come in person and verify the truth.

Yet, at this moment, the main protagonists had yet to make their appearance.

From behind, Gu Shishu gently ran a phoenix-wood comb through the immortal’s silver hair, his fingers brushing against it ever so lightly, drawing closer bit by bit to the frost-white nape of his neck.

Fu Tingxue enjoyed intimacy through touch.

Today, the immortal was dressed in a robe as pure as moonlight, a color that suited him best.

However, since this was a day of eternal union, a touch of color was still needed. Gu Shishu’s fingers nimbly wove a red cord into his hair.

The vivid red contrasted beautifully with the varying shades of frost and snow in his attire, making him appear even more strikingly elegant and otherworldly.

Thus, a delicate balance was achieved.

At first glance, Fu Tingxue seemed unchanged—he remained the same aloof and ethereal Immortal Sovereign.

Yet upon closer observation, there were subtle differences.

The rippling warmth in his eyes. The faint flush on his earlobes. The deeper shades of crimson tinting his lips.

At this moment, a red thread was entwined around his wrist, looping around Gu Shishu’s sleeve, its other end already wrapped around the Demon Lord’s wrist.

It was the celestial red thread of fate, symbolizing their bond and longing.

Celestial red threads possessed their own sentience—so long as the two were truly connected in heart and soul, no matter how far apart they were, a mere thought would cause the mark of the thread to manifest on their skin.

Before the Dao Partner bonding ceremony, the red thread was required to be revealed before all, serving as undeniable proof of their genuine love and spiritual connection.

As Gu Shishu carefully combed through his hair, Fu Tingxue sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of where to focus his gaze. His eyes settled on the red thread around his wrist—a deep crimson, like aged red beans.

Beautiful.

And hard-won.

The phoenix-wood comb made one final gentle pass through his hair.

Fu Tingxue remained seated as Gu Shishu set the comb aside and leaned down, placing a kiss on his forehead.

It was only a kiss on the forehead.

A fleeting trace of disappointment flickered in the immortal’s eyes, nearly imperceptible. But they were expected at the ceremony soon—it truly was not the right time for anything more.

And yet, when he met Gu Shishu’s gaze, he saw the same emotion reflected there.

The darkness of his eyes was like aged wine—one could almost become intoxicated just by looking.

There would be time.

They had a lifetime ahead of them.

4. Meeting the Guests

The jade goblets used for the wine were of the finest Hetian jade, their surface glistening under the sunlight—an offering the sect leader was particularly proud of.

The assembled guests were all figures of prominence from across the Three Realms, none of whom were particularly easy to please. Yet, contrary to the sect leader’s expectations, there were no expressions of impatience. Instead, they cast furtive glances toward the palace behind the high platform, curiosity plain in their eyes.

Then, at last, the snow-robed Immortal Sovereign and the black-clad Demon Lord stepped into view.

Their hands were clasped together, fingers entwined.

A palpable air of intimacy spread through the hall.

It was real.

Even with the scene unfolding before their eyes, the guests struggled to process it. They remained frozen in place, momentarily forgetting even to sip their wine.

The sect leader found himself at a loss for words—

Why did this give him such a strange sense of satisfaction? Was this the thrill of being in on a secret before everyone else?

Fu Tingxue lifted his gaze.

His aura, as cold and pure as frost, had not yet dissipated. Dressed in his usual snow-white robes, he stood before an audience rarely afforded even a single glimpse of the high and mighty Immortal Sovereign.

A distant sword aura radiated from him, so piercing that even those present, all esteemed figures in their own right, felt a shiver run down their spines.

Had they not heard that the Sword Sovereign of Qingcheng had once fiercely opposed the Demon Lord, and that his legendary sword, Qingshuang, had been half-destroyed in the battle?

Then why did he show no signs of injury? On the contrary, it seemed as if his swordsmanship had only grown sharper.

Compared to the immortal, whose expression was subtle, Gu Shishu’s emotions were far more apparent.

For the guests, he was the true source of unease. Even now, as they sat in the grand hall, they could not suppress their apprehension.

After all, among the distinguished attendees were leaders of the righteous path. Upon hearing that the Immortal Sovereign was to bond with the Demon Lord, their first instinct had been alarm—had the demon coerced him? Yet the voluntary spiritual imprint on the invitations had left no room for deception.

Caught between reluctance to refuse and fear of offending either party, they had ultimately chosen to come.

But now, what they saw before them—

The immortal’s swordsmanship remained unbroken, sharper than ever.

And on their wrists, the red threads gleamed, a rich, deep red—like the hue of ripened red beans.

The celestial red thread used in Dao Partner ceremonies darkened in color as a reflection of the depth of one’s feelings.

Even a soft blush of red was enough to signify love.

And yet, theirs was so intense—so undeniably deep.

For a brief moment, countless thoughts flickered through the minds of the guests.

But they were shrewd.

Not a single one let their astonishment show.

Instead, one after another, they rose to toast the newly bonded Dao partners.

A delicate golden cup was placed in Gu Shishu’s hand. He simply waved it off with a smirk, then downed its contents in one motion. His throat bobbed with the movement, exuding an effortless charm.

The cup was promptly refilled—this was strong liquor, well-suited for celebrating such an occasion.

Gu Shishu deftly handed the cup to Fu Tingxue, cautioning him to drink slowly. The immortal had never been good with alcohol, and this was particularly strong.

Fu Tingxue studied the liquid for a moment before following Gu Shishu’s lead, swallowing it without hesitation.

As expected, the heat of the liquor burned its way through him, and he struggled to endure it—though only Gu Shishu noticed.

He stood close enough to see the slight gloss of tears welling in Fu Tingxue’s pale eyes, the deepening flush on his lips, and the emotions he kept carefully veiled.

His lips had touched the same spot on the cup where Gu Shishu had drunk from moments ago.

Gu Shishu’s eyes darkened.

He took the empty cup from Fu Tingxue, his fingers grazing over that very spot.

But this time, the immortal did not avert his gaze as he normally would.

Though his expression still carried a trace of shyness, he met Gu Shishu’s eyes with quiet, unwavering sincerity.

This was his beloved.

And Gu Shishu had taught him—

To be honest with the one you love.

So if you look closely enough, you will see—

I love you.