The bedchamber. A jade bed. Silk curtains. Warm incense.
Luo Luo sat motionless on the bed like a wooden doll, watching as the figure drew closer—tall and slender, his shadow stretching across the swaying curtains despite the absence of wind.
The drapery fluttered, and the surroundings fell into an eerie silence. Only the sound of his deliberate, heavy footsteps remained, each step syncing with the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump!
For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw Li Zhaoye.
She must have truly lost her mind—seeing his likeness in a demon, and now in the Divine Sovereign.
Lost in her daze, an indescribably sweet fragrance began to seep from her body, winding and twisting like vines.
It was Yu Fusheng.
The Yu Fusheng she had suppressed with a heart as cold and sharp as a fish-gutting knife now surged back like a dying ember reigniting, spilling from her breath and curling toward that overwhelmingly oppressive figure.
A deafening roar erupted in Luo Luo’s mind.
Amid the ashes, the flames of passion flared back to life.
Yu Fusheng was originally a secret elixir concocted to ensnare the Divine Sovereign—so naturally, the Sovereign himself could also stir the dormant poison within her.
Earlier, it hadn’t seemed so severe. The open space, the strong wind, the crowd—the faint traces of scent had only lingered for a moment before dispersing.
But now, not a single breath she exhaled could escape. It drifted toward him, then back to her, brazenly invading her senses and taunting her pulse.
Her breathing grew warm and unsteady, her mind hazy. The candlelight flickered against the curtains, casting shifting shadows as the Divine Sovereign drew nearer—his silhouette blurring into the likeness of Li Zhaoye.
White silk fluttered and settled, the candlelight painting one Li Zhaoye after another—so many Li Zhaoyes!
Luo Luo: "..."
This was the true stuff of her dreams—everything hazy and intoxicating.
Her thoughts drifted unbidden to that moonlit night in the Forbidden Library, where the scandalous words from those books now ran rampant in her mind, fueled by the seductive glow of the candles.
Words about jade and burning, spring and pleasure, passion and beasts.
Even if it were as the books described—if that terrifying, ghostly lover were to sink his fangs into her flesh, bruise her, shake her, tear her apart—if it were Li Zhaoye turned into a vengeful spirit, maybe... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?
For the first time, Luo Luo truly understood the torment of Yu Fusheng, the all-consuming fire that devoured reason.
She missed Li Zhaoye. Missed him to the point of madness.
The figure that resembled him so closely finally reached the bedside.
Two pale, jade-like fingers parted the silk curtains. A black robe embroidered with seals sank into the bed as he leaned over her, his presence and shadow swallowing her whole like boundless darkness.
He looked down at her.
She sat slumped amidst the cloud-soft bedding, her fingers weakly clutching an embroidered silk flower.
Her eyes shimmered with mist, beneath which rippled a pool of rosy springwater—teetering on the edge of spilling over.
A faint, delicate sound came from within the curtains. Tracing it, his gaze landed on her lips.
Her breaths were light and quick, as if starved for air, forcing her to part her petal-soft lips and exhale in small, honeyed gasps—each one deliberately aimed at him.
Her collar had loosened slightly, revealing skin like porcelain tinged with the hue of sunset, trailing down to the dip of her collarbones.
Further down—he couldn’t see.
He stiffened, frozen in place.
Luo Luo’s breath hitched as she slowly tilted her head up to face the figure looming over her.
Backlit, she couldn’t make out his features, but she could feel the weight of his gaze—like prey pinned under a predator’s stare.
Cold. Powerful. A wild, untamable arrogance thrumming in his bones.
A violent aura seeped from him, unrestrained even by the seals, like the claws of a world-ending demon trailing behind him—devouring all light in its wake.
Darkness surged toward her, his presence both icy and scorching, alien yet hauntingly familiar.
Luo Luo forgot where she was. Forgot who stood before her.
In her delirium, she smiled faintly.
Even if he died and became a vengeful ghost, he’d still come back for me, wouldn’t he?
Summoning what little strength she had left, she pushed herself up, reaching for him with a trembling hand. Her fingers hooked into the folds of his collar, pulling herself closer.
Her fingertips brushed the skin near his collarbone—cold and unyielding as polished jade.
Muddled, she leaned in to kiss him.
Closer.
In the blur, she glimpsed the shadows of his brow and nose, the two crimson marks beneath his eyes. In the interplay of light and dark, his sharp, arrogant features overlapped perfectly with her memories of Li Zhaoye.
Her heart leapt. Li Zhaoye! Li Zhaoye!
The air around them suddenly thickened.
Thwack!
A palm smacked against her forehead.
Luo Luo blinked, dazed. "Huh?"
He shoved her back with visible irritation. "What the hell are you doing?"
Weak-limbed, Luo Luo’s fingers slipped from his robes as she tumbled back into the bedding, landing in a breathless heap.
She peered up at him, confused and wounded.
He hissed through his teeth, jabbing a finger at her nose. "Don’t even think about pulling that act!"
Luo Luo: "…?"
Bewildered, she propped herself up on the jade pillow to study him. At this angle, neither of them was backlit anymore.
Candlelight spilled into the bed, illuminating their profiles—one a picture of languid beauty, draped over the pillow like a dreamy verse; the other bristling with hostility, utterly devoid of romance.
He even took the extra step of yanking his collar higher, covering his throat as if guarding against her advances.
The curtains fluttered apart, the crimson glow finally revealing his face.
He wasn’t Li Zhaoye.
He was the Divine Sovereign.
The Sovereign’s features did bear some resemblance to Li Zhaoye’s—even more refined, in fact. If not for the two sinister crimson marks beneath his eyes, he might have looked even more like a pretty, harmless face than Li Zhaoye ever did.
The fire of Yu Fusheng still raged within Luo Luo, but her heart plummeted.
He wasn’t Li Zhaoye. Of course he wasn’t.
How could he be? Li Zhaoye was dead—shattered on the shore, his meridians severed, his soul scattered to the winds. He would never return.
Luo Luo’s lips twitched in a faint, hollow smile.
The moment she did, the Sovereign snapped at her again.
"Try crying one more time!" His voice was pure menace, the marks under his eyes burning blood-red.
Luo Luo pressed her lips together, bracing against the bedframe to sit up properly. She met his volatile gaze and shook her head.
"I’m not crying."
He narrowed his dark, elongated eyes, scrutinizing her.
His expressionless face was genuinely intimidating. Luo Luo could sense the barely restrained violence in him—like a beast lurking just beneath the surface, ready to tear free.
She suspected this man couldn’t tell the difference between expressions—she was clearly smiling, yet he insisted she was weeping.
Ever adaptable, Luo Luo obliged. If he didn’t want her to smile, she wouldn’t.
Her body still burned with fever, as if ants were crawling beneath her bones. She was not one to shy away from confrontation. Meeting his gaze directly, she cut straight to the point: "Your Excellency brought me back—aren’t you going to sleep with me?"
He blinked slowly.
After a pause, the corner of his lips curled slightly. "Don’t get ahead of yourself."
Luo Luo: "Oh."
"I only said I’d sleep with you," he drawled, resting a hand on his knee, "to mislead those old hags outside. What I truly intend is to break free from this seal and slaughter every last one of them."
Luo Luo’s eyes widened slightly.
It took her a moment to realize—this divine sovereign truly had a god’s intellect and a demon’s cruelty.
Suddenly, he leaned in.
Two eerie crimson marks made his face look unnervingly perfect, like a mask. His gaze pinned her from mere inches away as he posed a lethal question: "Will you—tell anyone this secret?"
His voice was warm, almost affectionate, yet it sent chills down her spine.
He was too close. His presence invaded her senses, overwhelming and arrogant, so much like Li Zhaoye.
Holding her breath, she pressed her lips together and shook her head.
"Truly not?" He tilted his head, studying her before tapping her temple. "I’ll kill everyone—including you. Think carefully. Who would you tell?"
Luo Luo shook her head again. "I don’t know."
The two people she trusted most—one had killed the other.
His expression darkened. "You must name someone."
Luo Luo asked, "Can it be a dead person?"
If death meant reuniting with Li Zhaoye, she’d cling to his side, whispering countless words—perhaps even this divine sovereign’s secret.
He: "..."
He stared at her as if she’d grown a second head.
"Enough. Stop thinking about it," he commanded. "I forbid you to dwell on this any longer."
Luo Luo: "Oh."
Perhaps it was the influence of Yu Fusheng, but her heart felt sluggish, occasionally fluttering as if she were back in some bygone day, idly chatting with Li Zhaoye.
Li Zhaoye had been just as unreasonable.
Whenever she trembled from the memory of that blood-soaked dusk, he would harshly order her to stop thinking.
If she refused, he’d draw his sword and beat her into submission.
The divine sovereign tapped his knee, snapping her back to the present.
"Tell me," he coaxed, smiling, "what kind of person do you think I am? Don’t hold back—speak freely."
His eyes curved, dark pupils glinting with something expectant, almost coaxing.
Luo Luo answered honestly: "The one who suppressed ancient demons for the sake of the world."
She hadn’t meant to, but a few irreverent words bubbled up unbidden in her mind.
Beast. Unlucky womanizer.
The divine sovereign’s presence flickered for an instant.
He smiled, a terrifyingly gentle expression. "Is that so?"
Luo Luo nodded. "Mhm!"
"Good."
He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes fixed on her face before delivering a bombshell: "You probably don’t realize—I can hear the thoughts in your head."
Luo Luo froze.
For a long moment, she simply stared at him, her face devoid of the panic he’d anticipated.
"Impossible," Luo Luo refused to believe it.
He’d claimed she was crying when she clearly wasn’t—how could that be mind-reading?
No way. Absolutely not.
Her stubborn, almost foolish defiance ignited his competitive streak.
He clicked his tongue silently. "From now on, keep those filthy fantasies to yourself! If I catch you imagining me biting your neck or gripping your waist again, I’ll toss you into the sea for the fish to devour!"
Luo Luo’s horror arrived a beat too late.
When realization struck, her mind erupted like a thunderstorm, leaving her stammering: "I—you—"
He smirked in triumph. "You have no secrets from me. That’s why I chose you."
Luo Luo: "..."
She’d thought nothing could shake her anymore.
How naive she’d been.
Crossing his arms, he watched her miserable expression with leisurely amusement.
"No more improper thoughts. And especially," he paused, "no mistaking me for someone else. One more slip, and you die."
Luo Luo: "..."
She wanted to explain that the one she’d fantasized about wasn’t him, but her late husband.
"Even if I don’t want to sleep with you, you’re still mine." His tone was arrogant, almost taunting. "Serve me well, and you’ll be rewarded."
Luo Luo: "Oh."
Suddenly, he grinned. "Prove your worth, and I might even help you take revenge."
"Oh—oh?!" Luo Luo nearly leaped off the bed, barely stopping herself from lunging at him.
Clutching the embroidered quilt, her eyes shone like stars.
"Your Excellency, I’ll go through fire and water for you! No task is too great—I’ll repay this debt with my life!"
She blurted out Chen Xuanyi’s scripted lines from a dreamlike trance.
"Enough." He turned his face away, irritated.
Her radiant enthusiasm was nearly blinding.
After a brief silence, he murmured, "I need to find someone."
Luo Luo nodded eagerly. "Mhm! Man or woman? How old? What do they look like?"
He smiled. "I don’t know. Do those details matter?"
Undeterred, Luo Luo declared, "It’s fine! I’ll find them anyway!"
Her master used to tease her—this girl blooms at the slightest sunshine.
Yes.
Master, Luo Luo thought, this is who I am. Even the faintest hope, I’ll cling to it with everything I have. Does it trouble you, having someone like me as your enemy?
She thumped her chest. "Just say the word, Your Excellency."
"Fine." The divine sovereign smiled. "This person is the reason I live. The meaning of my existence."
Luo Luo: "Mhm. And?"
He shrugged. "That’s all."
Luo Luo: "..."
She’d expected vagueness, but not this level of abstraction.
Struggling to piece it together, she ventured, "Is this person… connected to Your Excellency’s awakening?"
In a tone that cared nothing for her plight, he replied, "No idea."
Luo Luo: "...Then, before Your Excellency regained sentience yesterday, were there any memories?"
Propping his chin, he tapped his knee absently.
The pensive look was uncannily like Li Zhaoye’s.
"Maybe I was a fish?" He said it with utter seriousness. "Walking somewhere, then—plop—lost half my head. Probably."
Luo Luo: "..."
He pondered further. "Or an insect? A bird? Tore out my heart to feed her, but she spat it out? Something like that. That’s it."
Luo Luo: "..."
She understood now. Revenge would have to be her own doing.
:)
The night deepened.
When possible, cultivators still adhered to nature’s rhythm—sleeping at night restored spiritual energy and balanced yin and yang.
The deity lord was probably frightened by the dense stream of indecent thoughts in Luo Luo’s head, so he decided to yield the massive jade bed to her and retreat to the divan by the window.
As he leapt off the bed, he didn’t forget to warn her once more: “You are forbidden to entertain any improper thoughts about this venerable one!”
Oh, now he’s calling himself “this venerable one.”
Luo Luo replied flatly, “Got it.”
Exhausted from the day’s ordeal, she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
That night, she suddenly dreamed of Li Zhaoye.
He was as arrogant as ever, storming into the Tai Xuan Sect with a half-rotten fish missing half its head.
Waving the stinking fish, he pointed at Chen Xuanyi’s nose and hurled the most vulgar insults.
Luo Luo wanted to laugh, but as she did, her nose began to sting.
“Li Zhaoye!”
Knowing she was dreaming, she threw herself at him without restraint, darting into his arms like an arrow.
“Hey, hey hey!”
He pretended to be a proper gentleman, raising his hands in mock innocence, glancing left and right, his eyes and lips curling with mischief.
Luo Luo secretly wiped her tears on his robes, breathing in his scent greedily.
She loved it.
He stayed with her all night. She clung to him, and after a while, he hugged her back.
Resting her face against his chest, she nuzzled him lightly now and then, murmuring a few words.
She was content until dawn.
But the moment she opened her eyes, the sweet dream shattered—her head struck by a thunderbolt of reality.
She was, indeed, lying in someone’s arms.
Except that someone wasn’t Li Zhaoye.
A crease formed between his brows as he frowned impatiently and opened his eyes.
Luo Luo: “...”
Too late to pretend she was still asleep—she’d been caught red-handed.
“...Hah.” He slowly curled his lips. “How bold of you to throw yourself at me.”
Luo Luo wished she could vanish on the spot.
Desperately, she scrambled for an excuse (or rather, a lie).
Then her gaze froze.
She saw the fluttering gauze curtains, the embroidered quilt adorned with hibiscus flowers, the exquisitely carved bed frame.
This wasn’t the divan by the window—it was the bed she’d fallen asleep in last night.
Honest Luo Luo blurted out the truth.
“Your Eminence, it was you who threw yourself at me.”
