AUOF - 103

The handwriting contained no magical spells; it was carved painstakingly with the most primitive and ancient method, stroke by stroke with a carving knife.

[Wind and moon can choose mountains and seas, may you always have a place to rely on.]

She understood what Ji Hengyu wanted to convey.

Those things she tried so hard to hide—her secrets, her unknowable truths—he already knew them all.

Each stroke carved words; each touch soothed her bewildered uncertainty.

“Ji Hengyu, if there were no such curse, would you still treat me kindly?” She softly asked, feeling uneasy due to his tenderness.

Ji Hengyu’s answer was firm: “There is no ‘if’.”

Sang Li pressed further: “Then, if one day the love curse could be undone, would you still...”

Her gaze dimmed momentarily with fear.

Sang Li had completely exposed herself before Ji Hengyu. From beginning to end, she hid nothing.

Sang Li questioned herself: without the silken worm curse, would he still treat her sincerely as he does now?

Ji Hengyu cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

Ji Hengyu asked her: “Do you think I am clear-headed?”

After hesitating for a moment, Sang Li slowly nodded.

“Even though it might be the most powerful love curse in the world, it’s not enough to make me lose my reason. Because I care about you, I willingly let it control me.” As he spoke, Ji Hengyu took her hand, “If you still find it hard to rest assured, then bind me with this curse through countless lifetimes.”

Countless lifetimes—a word so distant.

Before meeting Sang Li, he was so humble that he didn’t dare to ask for even this life.

Ji Hengyu bent down and held her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent of her hair with affection.

He must survive, live beyond today, live beyond tomorrow, even if he becomes the evil spirit everyone in the six realms wants to destroy, he will defy fate.

The emotions in Ji Hengyu’s eyes flickered like a candle on the verge of extinguishing, with only a faint light dancing within.

“Sang Sang, at the beginning of next month, let’s get married.”

Sang Li was taken aback.

Ji Hengyu gently stroked her cheek, “Right here, would you agree to marry me?”

The suddenness of the matter left Sang Li dazed, and after a long while, she barely regained some composure.

Nervously swallowing saliva, her fingers clenched and unclenched, unclenched and clenched again. Finally, she managed to form words, “But my identity... might bring trouble to you.”

Hearing this, Ji Hengyu chuckled softly, “Sang Li, is it possible that I am the biggest trouble?”

Sang Li: “...”

True.

Compared to her, a small fox spirit of the Ling race, Ji Hengyu was the one who governed the six realms’ life and death, causing headaches for the divine domain.

If anyone should be rejected, it should be her rejecting him.

Come to think of it, her confidence soared. She cleared her throat and stood tall, “Alright, then I’ll reluctantly agree to your marriage proposal.”

“Marriage proposal?”

“Yes,” Sang Li said matter-of-factly, “In my current state, I can’t stay in Gui Xu for long. Naturally, you should come to Phoenix Grove. Isn’t this a marriage proposal?”

Ji Hengyu was amused by this twisted logic.

Unlike the mortal world, the celestial realm didn’t have many formalities or distinctions between marrying and being married. If two people wished to unite, they simply needed to hang a contract bell with both their names under the Unity Tree, and from then on, they would be husband and wife.

Since she put it this way, Ji Hengyu naturally wouldn’t spoil her mood and said with a smile, “Alright, then I’ll be marrying into Sang Sang’s home.”

Upon hearing this, Sang Li’s ears turned red.

If he were just teasing, she wouldn’t take it to heart; but Ji Hengyu used the gentlest tone and gaze, making her feel a bit embarrassed.

“It’s time to rest.” Ji Hengyu led her, heading towards the small bed.

Sang Li suddenly became alert.

He lightly pinched the soft flesh on the back of her hand, “Don’t overthink it.”

Sang Li: “...”

**

The two squeezed onto the small bed, hugging each other to sleep. With Ji Hengyu holding her, Sang Li fell asleep quickly.

The night in Chaohuang was so quiet and peaceful. The tiny bamboo house had only her faint breathing. Moonlight filtered through the window lattice, casting a neatly square shadow in a corner of the room.

Ji Hengyu remained awake.

When he felt an obvious pull at his chest, he slowly opened his eyes.

Afraid of waking Sang Li, he carefully slid his arm out from under her neck, got up, casually picked up the outer shirt draped over the screen, threw it over his shoulders, and quietly walked out.

The moonlight scattered into fine pieces.

A figure in deep ink color blended into the melting moonlight, rather inconspicuous.

He was trimming the branches in the courtyard, then went to water every household’s flower beds, fed the chickens, ducks, cattle, and sheep, and finally distributed the collected herbs to those in need. His pace never stopped.

Though seemingly busy, he was doing trivial tasks.

Ji Hengyu silently watched him from behind.

Later, he returned to the small courtyard, holding a branch in his hand.

Just as he was about to plant it, Ji Hengyu appeared soundlessly behind Ji Xun.

Two shadows were cast on the ground.

The taller shadow enveloped the shorter one.

Ji Xun’s movements paused; without turning around, he continued planting the tender green branch with pursed lips.

“Ji Xun.”

Ji Hengyu spoke, his voice emotionless, flat tones like a stone thrown into a dark abyss, creating no ripples, quickly disappearing without a trace.

With the branch planted, Ji Xun finally stood up and bowed respectfully.

Ji Hengyu scrutinized him.

After a moment, he spoke: “Didn’t I tell you to stay in Gui Xu? Why are you here?”

Ji Xun kept his head low: “I made some promises and took advantage of the free time to deliver them.”

The Ling race had given Ji Xun the entry code a year ago, allowing him to come and go freely.

He didn’t appear often, always coming and going unnoticed. Occasionally caught by tribe members or children who didn’t return home, he eventually adjusted his visiting times.

Whether by coincidence or design, his explanation was flawless.

Ji Hengyu lowered his eyelids indifferently. That tender branch swayed pitifully.

“What is this?”

Ji Xun paused briefly, honestly answering, “A mulberry sapling.” He said, “Found it on Sang Mountain.”

Sang Mountain was a small island on the edge of the Southern Sea, covered with mulberry trees, hence the name “Sang Mountain.” However, the mountain’s spiritual energy was mediocre, capable of sustaining only the mulberry trees and nothing else.

He traveled thousands of miles just to pluck a seedling.

Ji Hengyu found it amusing yet couldn’t help but disdain it in his heart.

“At the beginning of next month, I will hold a grand wedding with Sang Li.”

Ji Xun’s figure stiffened obviously; his already restrained aura nearly dissipated at this moment.

His heart ached painfully, nearly unable to maintain composure, yet he remained silent, bowing his head, letting the pain scatter unseen in his eyes.

Darkness shrouded Ji Hengyu’s brow bone.

He was always aloof and cruel, reserving his rare tenderness for Sang Li. Even facing another self created from blood and flesh, he showed no mercy.

Calmly and composedly, he shattered Ji Xun’s unspoken fantasy: “After the wedding, I will reclaim the heart.” Ji Hengyu told him, his voice cold, “Rest assured, during these seven years, I’ve prepared a better vessel for you. At that time…”

Ji Hengyu lightly tapped his index finger on his heart, “You will completely forget everything brought by the silken worm curse.”

Ji Xun trembled, slowly raising his eyebrows to look at Ji Hengyu.

Their gazes met; ferocity spread between them. Ji Hengyu’s eyes remained calm, seemingly waiting for him to do something. In fact, at this moment, Ji Xun could hardly suppress himself. Violence surged in his veins, the silken worm curse swirling around his heart, leaving only one thought in his mind—

Kill him.

The silence stretched endlessly.

After a long while, Ji Xun calmly lowered his brows, then bent his waist in submission: “Yes.”

Ji Hengyu turned and left.

Ji Xun watched his retreating figure. A while later, his chest throbbed heavily.

Through the window he had crafted himself, he saw the couple’s intimacy. Even in deep sleep, the maiden rolled into his embrace dependently.

Ji Xun’s expression was indifferent.

He was always obedient.

Calm, taciturn, skilled at suppression, unlike the impulsive Ji Wu, most of the time he remained silent and unnoticed.

But Ji Hengyu seemed to have forgotten.

He was “Sha,” the accumulated “Sha Soul” formed over eons in heaven and earth. He excelled in concealment, accustomed to hiding in the deepest corners until delivering the final fatal blow to his enemies.

Patience was his greatest strength.

Ji Xun turned, walking step by step into the depths of the night.

—He would wait.

**

Preparing for a wedding in just one month was indeed rushed. Fortunately, the Ling race had ample manpower, and assigning tasks one by one left some breathing room.

The bridal gown was embroidered by the best weavers of the Ling race, using rare materials Ji Hengyu had sourced from Shuitianyun. It was rumored that thousand-year-old mermaid pearls were ground into powder, mixed with fragmented moon gauze, and woven over hundreds of years to form a small piece of thin fabric.

The weavers spoke mystically, and since she hadn’t seen the gown herself, she didn’t know whether it was true or false.

As the bride, Sang Li didn’t need to do much. At this crucial juncture, she shouldn’t wander far from Chaohuang Tree.

Bored, she wandered around or played with the Ling children to pass the time.

Once everything was ready, it was time to send out invitations.

Sang Li’s close friends were all in Gui Xu, especially Si Tu. Considering their identities, she naturally couldn’t openly invite him. After much deliberation, she wrote a letter informing Si Tu of her upcoming marriage to Ji Hengyu.

She also wanted to send letters to Yue Zhuqing, Li Ningxi, and Elder Qi. After obtaining Ji Hengyu’s permission, she sealed the four written letters in envelopes and handed them to Ji Hengyu.

He was also writing something under the lamp.

It seemed to be an invitation too.

Sang Li raised an eyebrow, curious, and leaned closer, “Who are you writing the invitation to?”

“No one.”

Sang Li intended to sneak a peek but saw he had finished writing and stored the letter along with the four on the table, leaving her quite disappointed.

“Really no one?”

Ji Hengyu handed her the letter with a smile, “If you’re curious, open it and see.”

The letter lay glaringly before her eyes.

There was no signature on the letter, nor any indication of who it was specifically addressed to. Sang Li’s curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to take a look. However, upon second thought, his boldness likely meant nothing good, perhaps a trap set to catch her in the act and watch her embarrassment.

—Ji Hengyu was fully capable of such a thing!

Sang Li relaxed her furrowed brows, retracting her fleeting curiosity, waving her hand: “Never mind, I have no intention of prying into your private affairs.”

Ji Hengyu’s fingers holding the envelope wavered slightly, “Really not looking?”

Sang Li’s face was resolute: “Not looking.”

Ji Hengyu coaxed her patiently: “Then I’ll send it out.”

Sang Li nodded emphatically: “Mm, send it, I won’t look.”

A faint laugh echoed in her ear as Ji Hengyu tucked the envelope into his sleeve and walked out of Chaohuang Tree.

Outside Phoenix Grove, he whistled to summon a messenger crane, tying the three letters Sang Li gave him onto the crane.

Now, one letter remained. Ji Hengyu’s lashes fluttered: “Qi.”

A wild wind arose in the sky as Qi descended through the air, kneeling at his feet: “My Lord.”

Ji Hengyu handed him the letter impassively, “Deliver it to Yin Prefecture.” He said, “The Ten Palace Demon Court.”