AUOF - 122

Sang Sang returned later than expected. Through the window, she heard the familiar footsteps of Ji Hengyu and felt a jolt in her heart. Hurriedly, she shed her clothes and jumped into the bath.

The water wasn’t warm—it was cool, wrapping around her skin like silk. Since snakes preferred the cold, she didn’t find it too uncomfortable.

Leaning against the tub, Sang Sang pretended to doze off. When the footsteps paused at the edge of the tub and someone gently nudged her shoulder, she mumbled and opened her eyes.

A shadow loomed over her. Ji Hengyu stood before her, slightly lowering his head. His raven-black lashes veiled his deep, ink-like eyes as his fingers tested the water temperature. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Realizing the timing was right, Sang Sang rubbed her eyes and feigned waking up: “I accidentally fell asleep.”

“It’s dangerous.”

Ji Hengyu grabbed a towel from the side, wrapped her bare body tightly, and lifted her out of the tub.

Sang Sang clung to his neck, her eyelids glistening with moisture, her expression oddly delighted. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped abruptly when she noticed a leaf clinging to his collar. Upon closer inspection, she saw faint traces of dust on his silver-white robes.

“Did you go out?” Sang Sang picked up the leaf, curiously turning it over in her hands.

Ji Hengyu’s arms stiffened for a moment before he tightened his hold on Sang Sang, placing her on the bed. As he dried her dripping hair, he explained: “That child wandered off again while playing, and the nursemaid couldn’t find her. I helped look for her.” His words weren’t false—when he returned, he had encountered the little girl hiding behind a rockery while playing hide-and-seek. Hearing the nursemaid calling anxiously, he’d carried her out and earned profuse thanks, which delayed him further.

Who could have foreseen the trouble this would cause?

Thinking about how close she had come to falling asleep in the tub, Ji Hengyu grew frustrated with himself.

Sang Sang eyed him suspiciously.

Ji Hengyu, feeling uneasy, avoided her gaze and focused on drying her hair.

After a long silence, Sang Sang asked: “Does Husband like that little girl?”

“I just helped out—it doesn’t mean I like or dislike her.”

Sang Sang said nothing.

She knew Ji Hengyu’s personality best. On the surface, he appeared gentle and kind, but in truth, he was reserved and aloof, only showing affection to those he cared for and avoiding contact with the outside world.

Back in Zhuxi Village, Lin Zhuangyuan had once suggested they open a private school together. But when a group of noisy children stormed into their home, Sang Sang saw a rare crack in her husband’s usually indifferent demeanor.

Perhaps… he liked girls?

Could Ji Hengyu want a daughter?!!

The thought shocked Sang Sang so much that she gasped audibly.

It made sense—her husband was human, and humans often valued having both sons and daughters. Though he had never mentioned it, perhaps deep down, he wanted a daughter to dote on.

“Why are you asking these things, Sang Sang?”

Facing Ji Hengyu’s questioning gaze, Sang Sang swallowed awkwardly, shaking her head. Then, hesitantly, she ventured: “If… if we were to have a daughter, would Husband like her?”

At this, Ji Hengyu froze.

…Having a daughter with Sang Sang.

This was something he had never considered before.

Practitioners of the Dao walked a path of defying fate; upon ascending the immortal ladder, they were destined not to bear children. But the mortal realm was different—mortals cherished the idea of having offspring. Still, Ji Hengyu believed childbirth was an arduous and painful process for women, and he naturally didn’t want Sang Sang to risk her life. Moreover, Sang Sang had never brought it up until now, making this unexpected question even more startling.

If they really had a daughter…

She would undoubtedly be like Sang Sang—lively, clever, adorable, and full of spirit, bouncing around and calling him “Father.”

At the thought of such a scene, even Ji Hengyu couldn’t help but curve his lips slightly.

The smile was faint, but Sang Sang caught it all. Her mind reeled, and she immediately sensed trouble brewing.

—Her husband truly wanted her to have a child.

The problem was… could she, a demon born of a snake, even conceive?

“Sang Sang, do you want a daughter?” Ji Hengyu quickly emerged from his brief fantasy, his gaze deeply fixed on her face.

Sang Sang shook her head first, then, thinking of her husband’s wish, nodded vigorously. Her expression turned pleading, looking pitiful.

Ji Hengyu’s heart tightened, and without realizing it, he held her more firmly.

If Sang Sang wanted a child, he naturally wanted to fulfill her wish—but… as a practitioner of the Dao with a sword-bone core, could he even father one?

This thought troubled the young couple.

That night, both lay burdened with heavy hearts, facing away from each other for the first time. Neither spoke nor acknowledged the other throughout the entire night.

________________________________________

Because of the fire in Zhuxi Village, they had to stay longer at the auxiliary residence in town.

Sang Sang’s thoughts were consumed by the idea of having a child, leaving no room for anything else. She spent the entire day lost in thought in the garden until a maid informed her that Sang Ning had returned. Only then did she rush to the front hall to greet him.

Sang Ning seemed to have something to say to her, but before Sang Sang could speak, he pulled her into the study.

“Brother,” Sang Sang said seriously, “I have something to ask you.”

She rarely acted so solemnly. Recalling the strange events in Zhuxi Village, Sang Ning immediately realized she had something important to discuss. He straightened his expression and waited for her to speak. The next moment, she asked—

“If I were to have a child, would it be an egg or a baby?”

“?”

“??”

“???”

Sang Ning’s pupils contracted and expanded uncontrollably, and his hand trembled involuntarily.

As she remained silent, Sang Sang grew impatient and urged him: “Hurry up and tell me—can I have a baby?”

Can she… have a baby?!

She actually asked such a question!!!

Unbelievable, irrational, incomprehensible! A joke of cosmic proportions!!!

Sang Ning was so overwhelmed with fury that his vision went black.

He had faced countless challenges in his life, but never had he felt as hopeless as he did now.

Supporting himself on the table, Sang Ning slowly sat down, his anger causing his head to spin.

Lowering his head, he massaged his aching temples, struggling to process her words. After a long while, he finally responded: “Does Ji Hengyu want you to bear his child?”

Sang Sang: “No, it was just a sudden thought—I wanted to ask.”

Sang Ning stared at her, his expression complex, wanting to say something but holding back.

Realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, Sang Sang wisely decided it was time to change the subject. With a forced laugh, she asked: “Has the cause of the fire been investigated?”

“…” It wasn’t entirely devoid of conscience.

Sang Ning relaxed his brow slightly: “As for the cause, aren’t you the one who knows best?”

Sang Sang knew she couldn’t fool him and offered a sweet smile instead.

Sang Ning was utterly exasperated with her but couldn’t bring himself to scold her. With a silent sigh, he added: “However, the scene wasn’t marked only by your presence—there were traces left by a practitioner of the Dao.”

At this, Sang Sang recalled the young swordsman she had clashed with the previous day.

“There indeed was a young sword cultivator. In my haste, I spared his life.”

“You’re sure it was just a young sword cultivator?” Sang Ning raised an eyebrow. “When I arrived, the sword qi hadn’t dissipated yet. Judging from the residual sword marks, this person should be the inner disciple of Tiange—the Tianheng Jun, sealed as the Guardian of the World.”

Sang Sang had heard of Tianheng Jun before.

Born of mortals, it was said that his entire village had been massacred during his childhood, and his family perished in that calamity. Later, his destiny awakened, and he ascended the immortal platform, forging his sword-heart. He joined Tiange and became its youngest immortal swordsman.

But hearsay was hearsay—Sang Sang had never crossed blades with him.

“The Three Realms are already uneasy because of that celestial prophecy. With the Divine Domain hunting you down, Brother can’t help but worry. Perhaps…”

Sang Sang understood what her brother was concerned about and gently interrupted him: “I’m no longer the defenseless little girl I once was, Brother. You should trust me.”

Sang Ning pressed his lips together and fell silent.

________________________________________

While the siblings were deep in conversation, Ji Hengyu, disguised, visited a teahouse in town.

He requested a private room and sat gazing at the bustling street below. When a knock sounded at the door, he looked up.

“Senior Brother,” his junior disciple bowed respectfully and took a seat.

Ji Hengyu sipped his tea lightly and listened to his report on recent developments.

Mostly trivial matters unworthy of mention—Ji Hengyu paid little attention, interrupting indifferently: “Recently, tell everyone to be careful. There are traces of a Demon Lord in this area. If they encounter her, it could end badly.”

Demon Lord?

The junior disciple froze momentarily, his heart trembling. “Even her subordinate, Ning Xiaoyao, is enough to give us trouble. This Demon Lord will surely be even harder to handle.”

Since the Demon Lord’s descent, her movements had been unpredictable. Even the Star Diviner of the Divine Domain couldn’t foresee her actions. As the prophesied day of destruction drew nearer, the entire Divine Domain grew increasingly restless.

“When will Senior Brother return to the Divine Domain?”

When to return?

Thinking of his wife’s charming and endearing smile at home, the junior disciple’s casual question inexplicably irritated Ji Hengyu. Brushing it off, he replied vaguely: “Soon.”

“Oh.” Sensing Ji Hengyu’s sour mood, the junior disciple hesitated for a moment. “Then I’ll take my leave for now. I’ll report back if anything arises.”

“Mm.”

As the junior disciple prepared to leave, Ji Hengyu paused, raising his head to call him back: “Wait.”

“What else does Senior Brother need?”

Ji Hengyu hesitated: “I have a friend…”

Before he could finish, the junior disciple’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Senior Brother—you have a friend?!”

Ji Hengyu: “….”

Realizing he had misspoken, the junior disciple hurriedly covered his mouth.

Ji Hengyu grew even more irritable. “He asked me to inquire… if there are any elixirs that aid in fertility.”

Fertility? Elixirs??

The junior disciple’s face contorted, his emotions shifting wildly.

Ji Hengyu’s fingers clenched around the teacup, shame burning in his chest. With a sigh, he turned away. “Never mind, you may go.”

The junior disciple wasn’t slow-witted—he was the sharpest thinker in their sect. Instantly, he understood that Ji Hengyu’s “friend” was none other than himself. Connecting this to his secret married life, it wasn’t hard to guess… Senior Brother wanted a child.

This was indeed a problem.

From the moment they resolved to pursue immortality, they were meant to transcend worldly attachments. But it wasn’t entirely impossible. Take, for instance, the immortal Jue Mingzi, who, after five thousand years of immortality, still bore a child with his Dao companion.

The junior disciple cleared his throat softly. As a Danxiu (elixir cultivator), he had no shortage of medicine.

He pulled out several bottles and vials, handing them over. “These are all for regulating meridians. Senior Brother can try them. Who knows…” Seeing Ji Hengyu’s icy sidelong glance, the junior disciple smacked his forehead and hastily corrected himself: “Your friend might want to give them a try. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

Without a word, Ji Hengyu collected all the bottles and tucked them into his sleeve.

After bidding farewell to his junior disciple, he hurried back home, where he coincidentally ran into Sang Sang, who had just finished speaking with her brother.

“Ji Hengyu, where did you go?!”

Sang Sang waved enthusiastically at him.

Ji Hengyu said nothing, striding forward like a shooting star. Unexpectedly, he swept Sang Sang into his arms.

She let out a surprised “Ah.”

Ji Hengyu kept his gaze fixed ahead, his pace growing urgent. “To the room,” he said. “To make a child.”

Sang Sang was utterly stunned.

Had he… had he become so obsessed with the idea of having a child that he resorted to this level of indecency in broad daylight?!

It was over. Sang Sang’s face turned ashen. It seemed this egg was going to hatch whether she liked it or not.