At that moment, Wenren Ying was dreaming.
The weather had begun to turn cold. The days were gradually growing shorter, while the nights slowly lengthened. The power of the sun’s true fire had been diluted by one autumn rain after another, and the core flame burning within Wenren Ying’s body had finally, little by little, begun to subside.
When he slept, the lingering pain throughout his body would vanish completely.
He was having a beautiful dream.
Under normal circumstances, Wenren Ying rarely dreamed… because he could hardly ever fall asleep in the first place.
Even when he did manage to sleep, he was always plagued by nightmares. For many years, there had been a blood-red moon in his dreams. Beneath that crimson full moon, blood and screams were eternal themes.
Later… he would occasionally dream of his life back in the Xuantian Sect. He would dream of his master. His master had been a stern man, but Wenren Ying had always been grateful to him.
Wenren Ying had been twenty when he joined the Xuantian Sect. At the time, his blood poison had flared up. To suppress the murderous impulse it brought, he had driven a knife straight into his own leg. Then, having lost too much blood, he had collapsed in the wilderness.
When he awoke, he was lying in a dry, warm room. Perfected Renhua stood with his back to him, holding a horsetail whisk, radiating the air of an immortal.
At the time… Wenren Ying’s first reaction had been to reach back for his knife. Blood-poisoned demonic cultivators were hunted and despised throughout the Nine Provinces; being caught meant certain death.
Perfected Renhua’s cultivation was far beyond his own. If he had wished, he could have killed Wenren Ying with a single finger.
Yet Perfected Renhua had not done so.
He had merely sighed and said, “Your kindness has not yet been extinguished, yet you bear the blood poison. How pitiful… How pitiful.”
Then he had personally circulated his energy to suppress the blood poison, accepted Wenren Ying as his disciple, bestowed upon him the name Daoist Cloudchaser, and brought him back to the Xuantian Sect.
Without Perfected Renhua, Wenren Ying likely would not have survived to this day.
The reason he so often dreamed of Perfected Renhua was probably because… deep down, he still felt guilty.
Perfected Renhua knew his origins. He knew of Wenren Ying’s hatred, yet he did not approve of his desire for revenge.
He believed that an overly powerful obsession with revenge would obscure one’s true nature. Not only would it damage one’s cultivation, it would also destroy the person entirely, until revenge was all that remained.
How was such a person any different from an empty shell?
His master’s words had been reasonable, but Wenren Ying had not listened. He had resolutely destroyed himself in exchange for the freedom to leave the Xuantian Sect.
It was precisely because of this that Perfected Renhua had become utterly disappointed in him. After that, master and disciple had never seen each other again.
Perhaps it was these little bits and pieces of guilt that caused Wenren Ying to dream so often of his life in the Xuantian Sect.
But today, he did not dream of it.
He dreamed neither of Donghua City nor of the Xuantian Sect.
He dreamed of… Wu Guanyue.
…Little Yue.
He dreamed of Little Yue’s… bedroom. It was a small wooden house, sunlight streaming in through the window and scattering flecks of light across the wooden table and chairs. Even the fresh fragrance of the plants and grasses had been heated by the sunlight until it was warm.
In the dream, he did not hate sunlight. His entire body was bathed in it, yet he was completely relaxed. He lay sprawled out on Little Yue’s bed, waiting for something.
…Did he really not know what he was waiting for?
In the dream, he did not question himself.
Little Yue entered from outside. She was like a stream of liquid, slipping through the crack beneath the door with a quick slither. Then she cautiously glanced outside twice, as though afraid someone might see what was happening in the room.
Wenren Ying could not help curling his lips into a smile as he watched her—his Little Yue.
At last, Little Yue let out a breath, locked the door completely, and slowly turned around to look at him. Her face was slightly flushed.
She looked terribly bashful, as though she had never experienced anything like this before. She approached step by step, and her usually lively twin ponytails swayed with unusual caution.
Oh… Little Yue…
He thought she looked unbearably adorable like this.
Then the adorable Little Yue maintained that adorable, bashful expression as she successively pulled a candle, a whip, an X-shaped frame, and a set of binding ropes from her sleeves.
Wenren Ying: “…”
Wenren Ying: “……”
Wenren Ying sighed, rolled over, and sat up. He reached out, pulled his Little Yue into his arms, and held her against him.
Little Yue wrapped both arms around his neck. Her soft black hair nestled against his shoulder, lightly tickling his neck. It was strange—he had never been particularly sensitive to such subtle sensations, and yet…
In the dream, they seemed to understand everything without needing to say a word.
Little Yue kissed him.
He kissed her back, their lips meeting. Her lips were moist and soft, warm with breath. Her body gradually softened, and she called his name in a breathy, indistinct voice.
“Brother Ying… Brother Ying…”
Her voice slowly grew more fervent. Wenren Ying reached out and laced his fingers tightly with hers. It seemed they had never been this intimate before, yet at this moment, their closeness felt completely natural.
Little Yue wore an expression that seemed to be both pained and blissful, looking somewhat at a loss… How adorable. She was always saying strange things and doing strange things, but in reality, she had absolutely no experience at all…
Little Yue…
Wenren Ying abruptly opened his eyes!
The instant he awoke, he sat bolt upright, every muscle in his body tensing. The movement caused his wounds to split open, and blood seeped through the strips of cloth wrapped around him. He let out a muffled groan of pain… but that was not the point.
The point was…
He… he had dreamed of Little Yue!
Not only had he dreamed of Little Yue, he had also dreamed that he was with Little Yue… that he and Little Yue were…
…What a beast.
Wenren Ying could not help cursing himself inwardly.
He exhaled a long breath and collapsed back onto the bed as though all his strength had left him. His entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His tense muscles refused to relax, and the sweat soaked into his wounds, bringing with it a strange, stinging ache.
The pain and agitation merged together, weaving into a fishing net—a net of sensation—that bound him tightly from head to toe, leaving him unable to escape.
Little Yue… His feelings for Little Yue…
—He had feelings for Little Yue as a man for a woman.
This…
This did not seem like something difficult to notice.
And yet Wenren Ying had never been willing to think too deeply about it. Whenever he found his attention lingering more and more on Little Yue, whenever he could not tear his gaze away from her, whenever he could not set his mind at ease about her safety no matter what he did…
At all those times, he refused to think about it. He merely covered it up, deceiving himself by insisting that Little Yue was simply a cute little sister. Since he had been her big brother for so long, he ought to watch over her properly.
Until he dreamed of her…
Until he dreamed of himself entangled with Little Yue.
Now, he could no longer deceive himself.
He had feelings for Little Yue—not the feelings one had for a friend. He… had fallen in love with Wu Guanyue.
Wenren Ying lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising and falling violently, as though he were enduring some terribly cruel ordeal.
And indeed, he was being tormented by a primitive impulse.
Wenren Ying lowered his head and glanced at himself, then suddenly let out an extremely disgusted “tsk.”
This sensation was hardly unfamiliar to a mature man. He was no green teenager, and he knew perfectly well how to relieve himself… but he remained still.
He did not want to reach out, perhaps because his heart was being tormented by an intense sense of guilt.
Or perhaps because, even if he did reach out, he would only be thinking… thinking of that girl from his dream as he did it. But that would, of course, be a desecration of her.
He… He couldn’t treat Little Yue that way. He couldn’t think about her behind her back while he… touched himself.
Little Yue… Little Yue was such a pure girl.
Yes, she mainly attacked people by yanking down their underwear…
Yes, she always seemed to have all sorts of bizarre tools on hand, none of which anyone knew the purpose of…
Yes, she had forced the Blood Demon Ancestor’s primordial spirit out by those very means…
But Little Yue was still a perfect, pure girl. He shouldn’t… He really shouldn’t…
Wenren Ying suddenly felt terribly restless. A strange self-loathing enveloped him, making him want to punch himself.
Just then, he heard an extremely familiar sound.
The sound of someone picking a lock.
Wenren Ying: “!”
His pupils shrank violently, and Little Yue’s cheerful voice floated in from outside.
“Brother Ying, Brother Ying, I’m here!”
Wenren Ying had insisted on recuperating somewhere other than an inn, so Wu Guanyue had no choice but to come look after him every day.
It wasn’t as though Wenren Ying didn’t enjoy being cared for by her.
But she had come at the worst possible time!
She had picked the lock on the courtyard gate and charged inside like an excited puppy… The problem was, his bedroom door wasn’t locked—and even if it had been, that wouldn’t have stopped her!
Wenren Ying was horrified. “Wait, don’t come in!”
But it was already too late!
Wenren Ying immediately yanked the blankets over himself and pulled them up to his chin.
Bang!
His door flew open, and the evil twin-tails had arrived at the home of her loyal Brother Ying!
Wu Guanyue entered in high spirits, carrying bags and bundles in both hands, then let out a puzzled “Huh?”
“Brother Ying, are you cold? Why are you covered with three quilts?”
Wenren Ying: “…………”
Wenren Ying: “………………”
Wenren Ying turned his head away with extreme awkwardness, seemingly afraid to look at her. His voice was also faintly hoarse, in a way that was difficult to detect.
“…A little. It’s nothing serious.”
Wu Guanyue noticed the thin sheen of sweat on Wenren Ying’s forehead and fell into deep thought.
His forehead was clearly sweating, so how could he say he was cold?
Could it be… that he had a fever?!
When one’s body temperature rose, it could cause waves of chills. Ah, so that was it. Of course. Of course.
Then, the proper way to lower his temperature was…
Wu Guanyue’s face flushed red.
Blushing, yet righteous and utterly fearless, she declared, “This won’t do, Brother Ying. You can’t just keep burning up like this. How about I help you wipe yourself down?”
