AUOF - 105

When Sang Li returned home, she indeed saw the letter placed on the table.

The sender was Si Tu. She eagerly opened it, and found several pages densely filled with complaints about her dissatisfaction in Tian Ge and a lengthy recount of how worried she had been due to Sang Li’s lack of communication over the years.

Sang Li found this amusing and could already imagine the expression on the goddess’s face as she wrote these words—indignant yet full of concern.

Sang Li turned another page—

[The divine domain has many eyes and ears; it is inconvenient to exchange letters. The accompanying sound scroll can facilitate communication.]

Sure enough, there was a small, pale yellow scroll underneath.

One side of the scroll was paper-like, while the other shimmered with a faint blue glow. She dipped some ink and tried writing two characters on it—[Si Tu?]

The writing gradually disappeared, and soon after, another line of small characters emerged in the blank space.

[Sang Li?!!]

It truly allowed two-way communication.

Momentarily surprised, Sang Li replied, “Yes.”

The other side quickly responded with hurried, messy handwriting: [Where have you been all these years? I inquired about you with Ji Hengyu, but you didn’t mention anything, not even Elder Shen. I’ve been worried sick.]

Page after page filled with her words appeared.

Sang Li was first touched by Goddess Si Tu’s concern for her, then puzzled. Si Tu and Ji Hengyu were always at odds, yet from the tone of the letter, it seemed they frequently communicated. Moreover, regarding Shen Zhe You, the conflict between them had been intense. Given Ji Hengyu’s nature, he would never leave him alive. Since Ji Hengyu hadn’t mentioned how that matter was resolved, and based on what Si Tu said, could it be that Shen Zhe You was still in Gui Xu?

If so, why hadn’t news of the Ling clan reached the divine domain?

After much thought, Sang Li decided to test the waters.

[I haven’t returned to Gui Xu for many years, nor have I seen Lord Shen recently. I wonder how he is doing in Gui Xu.]

Si Tu casually replied, [What do you mean? He’s probably still keeping an eye on Ji Hengyu, though without much success. I think it won’t be long before the Divine Lord recalls him to Tian Ge.]

Sang Li paused, deep in thought.

It seemed that Si Tu really knew nothing about this. If Shen Zhe You was still in Gui Xu, there were only two possibilities. First, he might already be dead, and Ji Hengyu was merely fabricating his survival through letters. However, this possibility was easily verifiable, and given Ji Hengyu’s nature, he wouldn’t act so rashly.

That left the second possibility: Shen Zhe You was still alive, perhaps held captive by Ji Hengyu in another form, using his identity as the eldest disciple of Tian Ge to serve as cover for obtaining information from the divine domain.

This would explain why Shen Zhe You, despite maintaining contact with the divine domain, hadn’t disclosed any information about the Ling clan.

Si Tu sent another message: [So where have you been all these years?]

Sang Li made up an excuse to placate Si Tu. Seven years wasn’t too long for immortals, and as expected, she didn’t doubt it, swiftly steering the conversation towards their wedding.

Si Tu: [Recently, the nine heavens have been turbulent, and I can’t find a suitable excuse to descend to the mortal realm. In a few days, I’ll personally select a wedding gift to send to you.]

The pitch-black characters seemed to carry warmth. Sang Li smiled faintly, [Thank you, A Tu.]

Si Tu immediately reminded her: [By the way, tell Ji Hengyu to be careful. Recently, Daozun has dispatched various celestial officials to ancient secret realms, seemingly searching for something. I suspect it’s to counter Ji Hengyu.]

Sang Li’s smile faded.

There seemed to be such a plot development in the original story, but unfortunately, she had slept through much of it and hadn’t read the plot details. Relying solely on her friends’ accounts, she had forgotten those remaining contents entirely.

She rubbed her temples forcefully.

With a sigh, she rose to change out of her heavy and cumbersome wedding dress.

Just as she untied the sash, a shadow appeared beneath her feet.

The tall, black silhouette oppressively enveloped her slender figure, startling Sang Li. She summoned her Huagu Ling and turned around, fully on guard.

He stood at the door.

His black attire almost blended into the night, the interplay of light and shadow on his face making him look like a drop of water falling silently into a dark pool, merging seamlessly.

“Ji Hengyu?” Before she could retract her astonished expression, she remained in her defensive stance.

“Ji Hengyu” stood motionless, just watching her, making Sang Li feel a strange unease.

Then he approached, his features clearly reflected in her eyes.

Sang Li scrutinized him carefully, and upon confirming it was him, she retracted her weapon, “You scared me.”

“I apologize,” he spoke, his voice cold and distant.

“Did you win?”

Sang Li examined him thoroughly.

He was whole, limbs intact, without extra scars, appearing to have won.

He didn’t directly answer but noticed the undone silk ribbon at her waist.

“Ji Hengyu” lowered his lashes, his pale, slender fingers lifting the nearly floor-length red satin ribbon. Just as Sang Li thought he was about to do something, he gently retied it, leaving her momentarily stunned.

“Ji Hengyu?”

“I remember the ceremony hasn’t ended.”

Huh?

Then she heard him say—

“Let’s pay respects to heaven and earth once more.”

Sang Li stared straight into his eyes, trying to discern something from those dark pupils.

He waited silently and patiently for her response. Compelled inexplicably, Sang Li nodded.

Ji Xun led Sang Li by the hand to the courtyard.

First, they bowed to heaven; then they bowed to the moon. Finally, during the couple’s bow, “Ji Hengyu” suddenly stopped.

Sang Li looked at him suspiciously.

He softened his gaze, “I always feel abrupt.”

“Abrupt?”

“Because you are too good, so I don’t know what to do.”

Even standing here felt awkward for him.

Sang Li didn’t understand his meaning and impulsively grabbed his cold hands, “Did Yan Jinglou say something to you?” Sang Li comforted him anxiously, “Remember, you are Lord Tianheng. You deserve the best.”

Ji Xun countered, “What if I’m not?”

Sang Li smiled brilliantly, “Then you can only be my Ji Hengyu.”

“I mean...” Ji Xun paused slightly, “Follow me away, anywhere. I will build a courtyard like this wherever you want to stay.”

Sang Li struggled to discern the truth in his words, feeling that it wasn’t something Ji Hengyu would say.

She scrutinized him thoroughly, even checked the moles on his body. If outsiders couldn’t easily enter the Ling territory, she might suspect someone was impersonating him.

“You have unfinished matters, and I can’t leave the Ling clan easily. If our union means abandoning our identities and responsibilities, then this isn’t marriage; it’s a shackle.”

She understood her position and knew Ji Hengyu was constrained.

However, holding such positions meant countless constraints, which were never excuses for neglect or self-destruction. Nothing and no one could justify irresponsibility.

Sang Li sympathized with him, knowing his many difficulties. Words of comfort felt especially hollow against the weight he bore. She also knew Ji Hengyu was proud and would never want even a shred of pity, even if he fell into the mire someday.

Perhaps she unsettled him, but regardless, she would steadfastly choose him.

“Ji Hengyu, we will find a way to suppress the karma and demonic gods. Si Tu’s letter mentioned that the divine domain has been active in ancient secret realms lately. Let’s go in a couple of days; maybe we’ll find something.”

No comfort, no sympathy—she simply wanted to face everything together with him.

Ji Xun felt a searing wound open in his heart.

Absurdly, naively, he wanted to run away with her as “Ji Hengyu.” But even he forgot that she was always clear-headed. How could she truly follow him wandering the world? Even if she did, that might not be what Ji Xun wanted.

Seeing him remain silent, Sang Li wondered if she had spoken too harshly. Carefully observing the changes in his expression, she hooked her pinky finger with his and wiggled it, “Shall we continue?”

Ji Xun’s lips twitched, wanting to smile, but the pain in his chest pulled at all emotions and perceptions, ultimately flattening into a straight line.

Ji Xun’s voice was hoarse: “We’ve already bowed once; no need to bow again.”

“Oh, then...” Sang Li pointed inside the house, “The bridal chamber?”

Ji Xun shook his head and raised his hand to touch her head.

But her hairpins were still in place, her jet-black hair like clouds. His raised hand clenched tightly, finally not landing, slowly retracting and resting by his side.

Ji Xun’s eyes flickered, finding a fitting and proper lie: “Wait a little longer. The remnants of Yan Jinglou’s followers are pursuing me. I must deal with them first.”

“Mm, okay.” Sang Li didn’t doubt him, tilting her head up hopefully, “When will you return?”

—Perhaps he wouldn’t return.

Ji Xun’s Adam’s apple moved, suppressing his emotions under calmness.

Sang Li realized, releasing her hand: “It’s alright, I’ll wait for you at home.”

She walked back into the house, surrounded by the soft, dim glow of the wedding candles.

Before closing the door, she turned and waved in his direction, her cheeks smiling, her eyes brighter than the moon.

Creak.

The wooden door closed.

Only he remained in the courtyard.

Ji Xun grew up in the abyss, witnessing the myriad sufferings of the world as an observer.

The multitude of sorrows—life and death partings, unrequited love—he watched coldly, originally thinking the seven emotions and six desires would never touch him.

Now, his heart shattered, a pain he had never experienced, seeping into his very bones.

The pain turned his throat bitter, rendering him unable to stand here as if dead.

Turning his back, he suddenly saw the bright vermilion red of the “囍” character pasted on the gate, glaring in the deep night. It looked like a pair of crimson eyes, staring directly at him, seemingly peering into his darkness and mocking his incompetence.