Both girls were wise after the event, now speaking with righteous confidence, but back then, caught up in the heat of emotion, they hadn’t cared about ceremony—their relationship had been established simply and decisively.
At that time, Miaojiang was divided between the Witch Sect and the Gu Sect, embroiled in internal strife. As the young master of the Witch Sect, he had to return to Miaojiang.
However, while he had traveled to the Central Plains alone, on his way back to Miaojiang, he was accompanied by his lover.
On the day they left Yangcheng, they passed by the golden ginkgo tree once more.
Up in the tavern, an artist captured their departing figures with his brush, hoping to gift them the painting when they returned.
Little did he know, they would never come back.
They stayed for a while in Wutong Village.
In that small village, she gave people strawberry seeds, treated those who couldn’t afford medical care, and in her free time, she would drag Chi Yan out to fly kites.
Because of her presence, the villagers no longer looked at the white-haired foreign youth with fear. Some even asked when they would marry.
That night, as she flipped through her medical book, unable to focus, she suddenly looked up at the boy beside her, still carving wood, and asked, "Chi Yan, shall we marry?"
His carving knife slipped, nicking his finger.
Neither of them knew the proper marriage customs, so the villagers helped arrange everything—red candles, red "double happiness" characters, and a red wedding dress.
The entire village became their witnesses.
"That wedding was simple, but I loved it. Chi Yan was just as happy as I was." The corners of her eyes curved with a smile. "After marrying him, I felt like I had a home in this unfamiliar world—like I had roots."
Chu'he felt a stir in her heart. Unlike her, this girl had arrived in this world suddenly, adrift like duckweed, unsure of where to go or where she belonged.
Yet, in such unsettling times, she still healed the sick. And when she had no family to rely on, she boldly married someone from another race.
Chu'he’s gaze deepened with admiration. "Your courage is rare in this world."
The girl smiled. "After that, we went to Canghaizhou, Xiaocheng..."
Along the way, they were inseparable. When bored, she would tell him stories, sometimes rambling when her memory failed her.
Seeing a monk begging for alms by the roadside, she asked if he wanted to hear the tale of Tang Sanzang.
When noble ladies passed by, she recounted the story of Lin Daiyu and Jia Baoyu.
Fragments of "Water Margin" and "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" also found their way into her tales.
The most amusing moment came on the day they left Xiaocheng. Pointing at a stream, she laughed, "Have you heard the story of the golden and silver axes?"
Chi Yan shook his head. "No."
After she finished, he asked with innocent curiosity, "Why couldn’t he take all three axes?"
She poked his cheek. "Chi Yan, you’re so greedy."
Hearing this, Chu'he wiped sweat from her forehead, turning away slightly in embarrassment.
"He thought I was angry and suddenly gave me a gift."
Chu'he asked, "A gift?"
The girl’s lips curved. "A tiny, adorable wooden doll."
Carved by Chi Yan over many days, the doll had white hair and wore clothes—a miniature version of him, no larger than a palm. When it first opened its eyes in her hand, its gem-like red pupils were pure and beautiful.
She fell in love with it at first sight.
Holding the little wooden figure under the warm sunlight, she beamed with delight. "So cute!"
The doll blinked, seemingly shy under her radiant gaze, covering its face with its hands but peeking through its fingers with those red eyes.
Surprised, she exclaimed, "Chi Yan, it’s alive!"
Chi Yan leaned against her, smiling. "It’s a puppet carved from ancient heartwood, over a hundred years old. Inside, there’s a golden-eyed silkworm fed with my blood—it mimics my every move."
He gently tapped the doll’s head, and it immediately narrowed its eyes like a pampered pet, letting out a soft "Eeek!"
The girl cradled it in her palms as sunlight streamed through her fingers, casting a golden glow over the wooden figure.
"Does that mean it’s alive?"
"It’s just a lifeless puppet. It doesn’t count as alive."
Gazing into its eyes, she smiled. "But to me, it feels like it has a soul."
At first, Chi Yan had only given her the puppet to make her happy, but later, he regretted it.
She treated it like a child—dressing it, catching bugs for it, even carrying it on her shoulder to bask in the sun.
He knew her affection was an extension of her love for him, but it still irked him. Once, while she slept, he secretly tossed the puppet away—only for it to sneak back, covered in mud, earning her pity.
Truly, the golden-eyed silkworm, nourished by his blood, mimicked its master flawlessly—perhaps too flawlessly!
Amidst their playful bickering, they finally returned to Miaojiang.
"I saw the tide of dead gu worms, the corpses of Miaojiang people strewn across the land. The conflict between the two sects had raged for years, staining even the mountain streams dark red."
Her voice was low and hoarse, as if recounting a nightmare she wished to forget.
"The Witch Sect lost many. Chi Yan’s return turned the tide, but then the Gu Sect suffered heavy losses. I didn’t understand—why would kin slaughter each other? Chi Yan said it might be for territory, secret arts, wealth, or power. Since ancient times, human conflict has always revolved around such things."
"I’ve seen people sacrifice their own families to refine the 'Blood Soul Gu,' and others slaughter entire villages for the 'Golden Silkworm Mother Gu.'"
"And then, their gu worms went out of control."
The rivers of blood brought retribution. They didn’t die by each other’s hands but were torn apart and devoured by the swarming insects. In mere days, the tide of gu worms swept through half of Miaojiang. If left unchecked, not only would Miaojiang vanish, but the Central Plains would also suffer.
"On that day, many outsiders arrived—Castle Lord of Feng Family Fort from Canghaizhou, the master of Murong Manor, even the fort lord from beyond the frontier. Countless martial artists came, and among them, a blindfolded girl sought me out."
She was a serene figure, her eyes covered, unable to see or hear—deprived of sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste. The only sense left to her was speech.
She didn’t think losing her five senses was such a bad thing. The tall guard standing by her side was her best guide.
"Miss Xue, do you still not understand why you were brought here?"
With just those words, she finally realized why Chi Yan’s name had felt so familiar to her from the beginning.
"I once read a book. The world in it was bizarre and fantastical, especially the antagonist—a young man from an exotic tribe. His tragedy wasn’t caused by himself but traced back to someone named Chi Yan from long ago."
Chu'he was startled, raising her head in alarm.
The girl smiled. "It took me until then to remember. To calm the frenzied gu insects, they needed a special person—someone who could offer their flesh and blood, whose body was strong enough to become a cradle for thousands of gu insects to slumber. Only such a person could quell the insects’ ferocity and end the chaos of sorcery."
"Everyone chose Chi Yan, but I didn’t want him to die. He couldn’t die."
If Chi Yan died, then just as the book foretold, a century later, a boy would crawl out of the gu pool—one who despised the world, saw human lives as worthless, slaughtered everyone, and then dragged the shattered world into destruction with him.
"They are all living, breathing people who can laugh and cry, not just flat characters on paper. Suddenly, I had a foolish, overambitious thought—I wanted to save this world."
[The host’s mission is to save this world.]
When Chu'he recalled the words echoing in her mind after being thrown into the cave of test subjects, an intense sense of unease rose within her. But she still lacked enough information to find the answer.
"But I’m not that noble, either. My selfish wish to keep Chi Yan alive came first." The girl lowered her eyes and spoke slowly. "So, I jumped in."
Chu'he snapped out of her daze. "No, there’s only one special person who can master gu poison techniques, whose flesh is strong enough to—"
Chu'he suddenly realized something, her gaze freezing before snapping toward the girl’s abdomen.
The girl’s hand rested gently on her stomach, as if soothing a life that no longer existed. The corners of her lips lifted slightly, but scalding tears rolled down her cheeks, staining her clothes with dark blossoms.
"You guessed right. I gave up my child."
Chu'he was too stunned to think.
The girl clutched her clothes and whispered, "Tell me—Chi Yan survived, and everyone lived, didn’t they?"
She didn’t know what happened afterward, so she couldn’t have known that Chi Yan couldn’t survive alone.
In the end, her sacrifice changed nothing.
Chu'he’s lips twitched into a stiff smile. "Yes, Chi Yan didn’t die. Everyone lived."
