The pitch-black room flickered with faint blue fluorescence, devoid of beds, chairs, or any furniture—only scattered, broken wooden figurines littered the floor, remnants of a past where countless drug-fueled warriors had turned on each other.
Chu'he picked up a figurine missing an arm, and suddenly, the memory of that day in the drug den resurfaced—the crimson-clad youth, his own arm severed, yet still bringing her a bloodstained steamed bun.
A cool presence enveloped her from behind, arms tightening around her as his chin rested on her shoulder, breath grazing the delicate skin of her cheek. Gradually, his body and breath warmed, absorbing her heat.
"Ninth, Ninth…" His voice, clear yet tender, murmured her name between kisses that trailed from her face to her neck, then lower as he tugged her collar aside, his lips brushing the smooth curve of her shoulder.
"Is this where Ninth used to live?" Chu'he asked softly.
He nodded. "Yes."
No one had dared touch his room, leaving it frozen in time, exactly as he’d left it.
Clutching the broken figurine, Chu'he turned to face him. "There’s no food here, no toys, no one to talk to. What did you do when you were hungry? Or bored? Did anyone ever cook for you? Were you allowed to go out and buy little trinkets?"
Ninth gazed at her, eyes alight with quiet radiance. He knew—she was aching for him. "I don’t remember those things anymore," he said.
Since being with her, the dull ache of those memories had inexplicably faded. Now, his mind brimmed with her laughter, her voice, the way she’d kiss or embrace him with unbridled joy.
He plucked the shattered figurine from her hand and tossed it aside, pulling her down onto the fur-lined floor with him.
Chu'he’s raven hair cascaded like a moonlit waterfall across the white rug, strands coiling around Ninth’s fingers like vines creeping through the dark.
Shadows pooled beneath her lashes, veiling a tenderness too fragile for even moonlight to disturb. Her breaths were featherlight, as if a single movement might shatter the hard-won peace between them.
Ninth hovered above her, strands of silver hair slipping over his shoulders to mingle with her black tresses. The intertwining shades filled him with an ineffable sense of stolen fortune.
He’d tainted her—plucked the moon from its lofty perch in the night sky. And among all the souls in this world, he alone was blessed enough to hold it.
"Ninth."
"Hm?"
"I love you so much."
Chu'he’s eyes curved. "I know. But my love for you is just a tiny bit more than yours for me!"
Ninth countered, "Mine’s a hundred percent."
"Then mine’s a hundred twenty!"
"Two hundred."
"Two hundred twenty!"
She’d always insist on that infinitesimal lead.
Such childish rivalry existed only between them.
Unable to resist, Ninth dipped his head, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth before deepening the kiss, savoring the warmth and essence of her.
They were husband and wife, partners, each other’s very souls.
No justification needed—when desire struck, they simply acted. No one in this world had the right to question it.
Ninth wasn’t one for sentimentality, yet inexplicably, every shared moment flashed through his mind.
She was a timid liar, yet she’d turned back amid life and death to carry his broken form from a swarm of insects.
In Xiaocheng, within the tunnel blooming with ghostly flowers, she’d clung to the cliffside beside him—leaping after him just to grasp the hem of his robe.
In Canghaizhou’s wilderness, she’d deciphered the hidden meaning behind the name he gave her. To shield him from threats, she’d provoked a malevolent spirit, "dying" by its hand.
In Wutong Village, that desolate hamlet, she’d seen through his illusion—a fabricated world meant to imprison her away from prying eyes. Yet she’d indulged his madness, marrying him to soothe his insecurities.
In Yangcheng, where any sane person would’ve weighed a city’s populace against one man, she’d stubbornly refused to abandon him.
Time and again, she’d taught him that life shouldn’t revolve solely around her, guiding him to aid those in need.
So he’d made friends—Fang Songhe, Heart Knife, and countless others.
She’d also shown him he could have family.
The boy Chongyang, the cantankerous old man Chu Sheng—both feared him, yet stood firm to protect their kin, because Ninth was the man their daughter loved. To them, he’d become a son.
The food gifted by Commoner Alley’s residents, the flowers from the little girl selling blossoms…
Ninth had never imagined human connections could extend beyond schemes and treachery to kindness and warmth. Without realizing it, he’d turned to find a crowd at his back.
Chu'he had braced herself for Ninth to take her, but mindful of his injuries, she’d hesitated over how to refuse—until his kisses grew uneven, his voice thick.
He collapsed against her, face buried in the crook of her neck, limbs entwining like an unbreakable cage, ensnaring her completely within his shadow.
"Ninth, I can’t lose you."
His arms constricted, knuckles whitening with the force of his embrace, as if he could fuse her into his very bones.
She’d dragged him from hell back to the mortal world, where he’d tasted every joy and sorrow. Having glimpsed such beauty, how could he ever return to the abyss?
"Chi Yan" would never accept it—and neither would he.
That moment on the altar, when Chu'he’s eyes had opened devoid of recognition, his mind had emptied, replaced by a cataclysmic urge to destroy.
Had she not clung to him, he couldn’t fathom the depths of his madness—far surpassing even Chi Yan’s.
With effort, Chu'he lifted a hand to pat his back, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Shh, it’s alright. I’m right here. I won’t leave you. We promised, remember? Together, life after life."
Ninth’s muffled voice was a plea. "Don’t lie to me."
"If I do, you can curse me with a love charm!"
Although Chu'he didn’t know the exact effects of a "love gu," judging by its name, it was probably one of those things that forced people into a state of "heat," something that couldn’t be resolved unless it was… released.
Hmm. Quite indecent.
Ninth lifted his face, his damp crimson eyes fixed on her for a long moment.
Chu'he put on a serious expression. "Really, I’m not lying to you. You’ve already planted the 'Mandarin Duck Gu' in me—what’s one more love gu? Go ahead, plant it in me!"
She was probably the first person in the world to beg for a gu to be planted in her.
Ninth said, "No."
Chu'he was puzzled. "Why not?"
Ninth: "It’ll only make you more excited."
Chu'he: "…"
She had to admit, after being together for so long, he knew her well. Her mind was full of nothing but dirty thoughts—not a single healthy thing in sight.
Ninth pulled her fully into his arms again, pressing her face against his chest. "Sleep."
Chu'he gave a quiet "Mm."
Ninth had been stabbed with a sword and hadn’t fully recovered. Ever since she was taken away, he had been tense. Now, with her in his arms, he finally relaxed and soon fell into a deep sleep.
Even though he was asleep, his arms around her remained tight, and his leg draped over her was heavy, leaving her no room to turn over.
Unable to sleep, Chu'he called out in her mind, "System, you should show yourself now."
A flat, emotionless voice echoed in her thoughts: [It’s good to see you safe, Host.]
Chu'he said, "I met Miss Xue, but I didn’t have time to learn her name. You must know what it is. In this world, even if everyone else has forgotten her, you wouldn’t."
She paused briefly before continuing, "Should I keep calling you 'System,' or should I call you… Chi Yan?"
Silence filled her mind. After a long while, the voice was no longer the lifeless, mechanical tone—instead, it carried a faint ripple of amusement.
A clear, youthful voice, like shards of ice soaked in mountain springwater striking stone, scattered crisply through her thoughts:
"If you wish, you may call me Chi Yan."
