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Before Wei Changyuan went to see Shi Luoyi, he had spent seven days practicing his sword alone in Kunyang Valley.
When he emerged from the valley, a few of his close junior brothers looked at him with concern. He calmly reassured them: “I’m fine.”
It was only a temporary confusion of his dao heart—he had already made his choice, hadn’t he?
The red plum blossoms in Shi Luoyi’s courtyard were nearly withered. Wei Changyuan vaguely remembered that the last time he had set foot here, he had argued with her, and they had parted on bad terms.
He stood at the gate for a long time, never having felt this door so terrifying before.
How had they come to this point?
Wei Changyuan remembered that when Shi Luoyi was born, he had already been a young child. On that day, his father had been very pleased, solemnly telling him: “The Dao Lord’s family has given birth to a daughter—it is a blessing for our family.”
He had been too young to understand the meaning behind his father’s words. Raised with strict and rigid principles, he wasn’t inclined to favor anyone in particular. However, when the baby in the cradle opened her large, black-and-white eyes and babbled while biting his finger, the boy with innate Sword Bone softened for the first time in his life.
Year after year, he watched her grow up. In the palace of Nanyue, the two children stayed together. Clumsily, he did things for her that he wasn’t good at. His sword drew blood for the first time while protecting her. When she would look at him helplessly after making a mistake, he would say: “Don’t be afraid, your Elder Brother Changyuan is here.”
He knew she was of noble birth, and that he had always been the one reaching upward. She had a childlike nature and didn’t care about him as much as he cared about her. Once, during the mortal realm’s lantern festival, he wrote on a lantern: I wish to spend my life with Luoyi. She, however, wrote: May the world be peaceful, and may Father be well.
His first stirrings of love left him feeling disheartened.
He had picked the first flower of spring for her, taken her for walks in heavy snowstorms. Even when the Dao Lord was in deep meditation, he would defy his parents for her sake, kneeling under the eaves for three days and nights.
His father had thrown a teacup at his head in rage, shouting for him to leave.
Yet, Wei Changyuan endured it all willingly, finding sweetness in his sacrifice.
To grow stronger and gain the ability to protect her, over the past decade, Wei Changyuan had taken on missions and ventured into secret realms for training. Gradually, he and Shi Luoyi no longer shared the same closeness they once had as children.
Sometimes, Wei Changyuan felt exhausted and noticed that Luoyi was slowly changing. For a time, he couldn’t understand her unreasonable behavior after losing her father, her conflicts with fellow disciples, or her stubbornness in making mistakes.
Even after meeting Xiaoshimei, who perfectly suited his ideals, Wei Changyuan had always reminded himself to stay true to his original heart. He had never imagined that one day he would separate Shi Luoyi from his life.
No matter how tired or weary he was, no matter how unruly and willful she became, he had always believed they would have a lifetime together.
Perhaps some things were destined from the start. The day he lent his spirit jade to Xiaoshimei, the first time he reprimanded Luoyi and defended Bian Qingxuan, their bond was irreparably broken.
The snow in the mortal realm had melted, but the cold wind continued to blow.
Wei Changyuan felt cold. He didn’t know how long he had been standing outside Shi Luoyi’s courtyard when Xianghui returned, carrying a basket. Seeing him standing in the freezing wind, she exclaimed joyfully: “Young Master is here! Why haven’t you gone in?”
Xianghui knew nothing, still hoping fervently for their happiness. She pushed open the door and called out cheerfully: “Miss, Young Master is here!”
Wei Changyuan raised his gaze. Across the courtyard filled with nearly withered plum trees, he locked eyes with the girl who had emerged at the sound of his voice.
Shi Luoyi seemed to be waiting for something. Seeing him arrive, she finally murmured softly: “Senior Brother.”
She looked at him, as if understanding everything, and said gently, just like many years ago: “It’s cold outside. Come in.”
They stared at each other for a moment before Wei Changyuan finally stepped into the courtyard. They sat across from each other, separated by a table. On the table was freshly brewed tea prepared by Xianghui.
The girl placed her hands on her knees and quietly gazed at him. Neither spoke.
It had been a long time since Wei Changyuan had studied her so closely. Perhaps because she had now come of age, she had shed some of her childishness. Her hair had grown longer, half tied up, half cascading down. A green silk ribbon fluttered in the wind.
Her eyes were no longer as gloomy and obstinate as they had been in his memories from a few years ago—they had become clear and beautiful once more.
The wind rustled through the branches, and the withered plum blossoms fell throughout the night. As the seasons changed, they sat there facing each other, and for a fleeting moment, Wei Changyuan felt the illusion of marital harmony. Perhaps if they truly were together, years later, they might sit like this, drinking tea in peace and watching the flowers fall in the courtyard.
But an illusion was still an illusion. This time, before Wei Changyuan could speak, Shi Luoyi was the first to break the silence.
“Senior Brother Changyuan, what do you want to say?”
His fists slowly clenched as he struggled to speak: “Luoyi… let’s dissolve our engagement.”
Those few short words were incredibly difficult for him to utter. The phrase “dissolve our engagement” wasn’t the first time it had been mentioned between them.
Long ago, in her attempts to draw her beloved’s attention, the young girl would puff up angrily and declare: “If you keep ignoring me, I won’t want you anymore. Is your sword prettier than me? Senior Brother Changyuan, why do you stare at your sword all day instead of looking at me?”
Yet she was also the most impatient and unable to endure. Often, just moments after saying such things, she would tearfully ask: “Of course I’m the one who matters most, right? You’ll stay with me forever, won’t you?”
This would always make his ears turn red, and he would softly agree.
This time, it seemed no different from any other time. After he finished speaking, the girl didn’t respond immediately.
Wei Changyuan even had the fleeting illusion that she would cry and throw a tantrum at him like she used to.
The tea on the table gradually cooled. What Wei Changyuan received in response was Shi Luoyi opening her hand.
Resting in her palm was a mandarin duck pendant, engraved with their names.
Wei Changyuan’s gaze fell on the pendant, and his face instantly turned ashen. He seemed to understand something, his lips trembling faintly.
Shi Luoyi closed her hand and crushed the pendant, splitting it into two halves.
She pushed the piece bearing Wei Changyuan’s name toward him. She had finally grown up—no more crying, no more tantrums, not even a word of reproach. She took back the small piece that belonged to her, inscribed with “Shi Luoyi.”
As his former fiancée, she seemed somewhat relieved as she uttered her final words: “Senior Brother Changyuan, I hope you find happiness in the future.”
The flowers in the courtyard scattered across the ground. Xianghui smiled as she swept them away.
She had no idea what had transpired inside. Just like before, she was already planning what gifts to prepare for the elders of the Wei family on behalf of her mistress.
She knew that her young mistress had suffered greatly these past few years and always hoped that Luoyi would grow up quickly, escape this cage, and fly to a place of peace.
Thus, when Wei Changyuan emerged, she joyfully rushed forward, intending to ask if he would take her mistress to celebrate today.
Wei Changyuan’s expression was dazed. Without sparing her a glance, he quickened his pace and walked out the door.
His usual courteous demeanor would never allow him to ignore someone like this. Sensing something amiss, Xianghui grew flustered and hurriedly turned to look at the other person in the courtyard.
Bathed in the light, Shi Luoyi was also watching them.
She held a jar of Daughter Red wine, standing gracefully in the wind. Xianghui’s eyes nearly popped out of her head in shock, her panic evident: “Miss, why did you dig out the Daughter Red meant for your wedding? This was prepared by the Dao Lord for you and Young Master. What foolish thing are you doing? Hurry and bury it again!”
Wei Changyuan lowered his head and walked faster, his steps growing more hurried with each passing moment.
The cold wind carried the sounds from the small courtyard to his ears. He heard her gently explain to Xianghui: “Because there will no longer be a Dao partner ceremony.”
Though her words were so forgiving, they caused the tears Wei Changyuan had been holding back, afraid to let anyone see, to roll down his cheeks in large drops.
He didn’t understand why this was happening. Though their love had faded and he had finally laid down his heavy burden, he still felt an unbearable ache.
He told himself he wouldn’t regret it, for in the illusion, the person who walked hand in hand with him was Xiaoshimei, not Shi Luoyi.
Perhaps the reason he felt this pain was simply because she had been the first person he had ever protected for so long. And on this day when she had finally grown up, Wei Changyuan had lost her forever.
________________________________________
Shi Luoyi carried the Daughter Red wine to the back mountain.
In her quest to find the person who had sent her the clay rabbit in her previous life, she ran toward the back mountain, pretending to be heartbroken.
She knew that the more pitiful she appeared, the more likely the elder would show up.
In previous years, when she had been proud and stubborn, she hadn’t received any birthday gifts.
Before doing this, Shi Luoyi wasn’t sure if it would succeed. This life was already vastly different from her past one—she hadn’t harmed Wei Changyuan, nor had she stabbed him through with her sword.
She found the cave where she had hidden herself in her past life.
The cave was small, far too inadequate to shield her from the wind and rain. In her previous life, she had cried there for half the night, trembling until she fell asleep at dawn.
This time, though she was no longer sad and had successfully dissolved the engagement, she still needed to replay the events.
She hid the Daughter Red and curled up into the small cave, trying hard to cry.
After struggling for a while, perhaps because she wasn’t truly heartbroken, she could only rub her eyes until they were red, bury her face in her knees, and pretend to sob.
Curious and uneasy, she wondered if the person would see through her act.
________________________________________
After returning from Qing Shui Village, Bian Lingyu’s condition improved significantly during the day but worsened greatly at night compared to before.
A few nights ago, Ding Bai, waking up at night, discovered him coughing and spitting blood. The young disciple was terrified. Even someone like Ding Bai could vaguely sense that Bian Lingyu was burning away his own life force.
When the oil in the lamp ran out, Bian Lingyu would vanish from the world.
Ding Bai, panicking, told this to Senior Sister Qingxuan, expecting her to share his anxiety. However, she responded ambiguously: “By choosing to take the Soul-Cleansing Pill, he already knew he wouldn’t live much longer. If he doesn’t care, why should you?”
“But…” Ding Bai twisted his fingers nervously, saying, “I always feel that Master seems unhappy this time.”
It wasn’t his imagination—though Master could now walk and move around, he spent even more time in silence.
Bian Qingxuan raised an eyebrow and smiled: “Unhappy? Because touching something only to lose it again is always crueler than never having touched it at all.”
Moreover, Bian Qingxuan knew exactly what troubled him.
She almost felt a sense of malicious delight. After returning from Qing Shui Village, Shi Luoyi hadn’t spared Bian Lingyu a single glance or asked about him even once. From start to finish, he was nothing to her.
Even until death, he would only have one identity—her, Bian Qingxuan’s, brother.
The embrace of the puppet girl by the small boat was the only warmth Bian Lingyu could touch.
But even that warmth was fake—it vanished like smoke in the wind, leaving no trace in Shi Luoyi’s heart.
Lately, Bian Qingxuan had been living quite smoothly. Returning to Mingyou Mountain, she once again basked in the admiration of the crowd. Though they were all fools, with Bian Lingyu retreating into silence and Shi Luoyi appearing lost and dispirited, she felt pleased.
And since Shi Luoyi seemed to completely forget about Bian Lingyu’s existence, she no longer worried about any further interaction between them.
Bian Qingxuan flicked Ding Bai’s forehead, saying: “Tell my brother to give up. In two days, his kind-hearted younger sister will invite him to watch a good show. He’s nothing but a mayfly in someone’s eyes, but there are others who are cherished deeply.”
Take a good look at what you really mean to her.
That day, Ding Bai returned and relayed her message, receiving a chilling glare from Bian Lingyu.
Terrified, he quickly fled.
Master looked terrifying.
But children are curious, and Ding Bai had been waiting under the corridor these days, speculating about the “good show” mentioned by Senior Sister Qingxuan.
After several days of waiting, he finally heard something astonishing.
At dusk, Ding Bai excitedly rushed through the courtyard to find his aloof and difficult-to-approach master, his eyes shining as he said: “Master, guess what I heard today?”
Bian Lingyu was reading in the room, his reaction extremely cold.
Since Bian Lingyu’s return, Ding Bai had inexplicably developed a sense of reverence for him. Carefully, he said: “They say that Senior Brother Wei went to dissolve the engagement with Miss Shi.”
Bian Lingyu paused briefly in turning the pages, indifferently asking: “And then?”
This was the first time Ding Bai had received a response from him. Eagerly, he continued: “They say Miss Shi was extremely angry and refused to dissolve the engagement, even crying after being upset by Senior Brother Wei. Many people saw it—Miss Shi was heartbroken, crying as she ran to the back mountain.”
Ding Bai confirmed he hadn’t misread the situation. After he finished speaking, Master seemed to suppress his anger and sneered.
“She’s always been so capable.”
Ding Bai shrank back, feeling that this wasn’t praise for the pitiful immortal maiden of Buye Mountain. Afraid of provoking Bian Lingyu’s wrath, he quickly scurried away.
Bian Lingyu sat motionless, flipping through a few more pages of the book.
The paper crumpled in his hands, and the bone spikes uncontrollably flew out from his sleeves, revealing his agitation.
The sky hadn’t darkened yet, and the large amount of Soul-Cleansing Pills he had consumed were still effective.
Bian Lingyu frowned coldly, closing his eyes after a moment and extending his consciousness to cover the back mountain.
In the cave, a slender figure trembled and wept. The girl sobbed, her shoulders shaking violently, looking utterly pitiful.
Bian Lingyu watched expressionlessly for a while, feeling a blockage in his chest.
He had seen too many such scenes and thought he had become numb to them. Withdrawing his consciousness, he had no intention of interfering.
After all, once the crying ended, she would still live on strongly.
Just as Bian Qingxuan had said, one day he would die in Hengwu Sect, aging and dying like an ordinary mortal, unable to interfere in her life anymore or continue that laughable obsession. She should learn to harden her heart, to grow cold and detached, and to let go of Wei Changyuan.
However, the annoying calls of partridges in the mountains disturbed his peace of mind.
He knew today was Shi Luoyi’s birthday.
After a long while, Bian Lingyu set aside his book and called Ding Bai in: “Go prepare some clay.”
Though Ding Bai didn’t know what he intended to do, he crisply agreed and quickly brought the clay.
Bian Lingyu was silent for a moment, using his finger as a sword to sever a piece of bone spike from his body.
The bone spikes, which had been restless just moments ago, now remained eerily still, as if accepting their fate. They trembled only when severed, wracked with pain.
Bian Lingyu covered the bone spike with clay. Initially, he had intended to finish the task half-heartedly, but as he worked, the clay gradually took shape—a small, red-eyed rabbit that looked pitiful and forlorn.
Using the bone spike as its core, the rabbit absorbed the overwhelming spiritual energy within it. Its once-dull eyes became lively, delicate, and adorable.
Bian Lingyu didn’t know why, but Jiang Yan’s kites came to mind. To think that in this one act, his actions overlapped with those of a remnant villain.
This realization made his expression grow even colder.
By the time he finished crafting the clay rabbit, dawn was fast approaching. Bian Lingyu rose and headed toward the back mountain.
The forest was heavy with dew, and Bian Lingyu, clad in thin robes, walked against the biting wind for a long while until he finally spotted the girl curled up in the cave, crying herself to sleep.
From afar, he gazed at Shi Luoyi, not stepping closer.
Bian Lingyu didn’t know what exactly Bian Qingxuan had done to make Wei Changyuan propose dissolving the engagement—especially on a day like yesterday.
But he understood what Shi Luoyi wanted.
A blade cultivator’s love was always unwavering, resolute, and without regret. Moreover, she was so proud. What Wei Changyuan had forgotten, she likely still remembered vividly. Without Master Shi Huan, Wei Changyuan was now the person she cherished most in the world.
Even when transformed into a puppet, her gaze lingered on Wei Changyuan longer than on anyone else.
Jiang Yan, even in death, had never found a place in her heart.
A faint sneer touched Bian Lingyu’s brow as he prepared to leave the rabbit behind and depart.
But the sleeping girl in the distance continued to tremble even in her slumber, tears still clinging to her lashes and cheeks.
The more hateful she was, the more pitiable she became.
The unhealed wound where the bone spike had been severed began to throb again, the pain rooting him in place. In the end, Bian Lingyu approached her.
Why are you crying? he thought. What’s there to feel wronged about? With your stubbornness, you’ll get what you want in the end.
Bian Lingyu placed the rabbit down and gently wiped away the tears on her cheek with his hand.
Thinking of how she would wake up to find the birthday gift from her “senior brother,” a flicker of irony passed through his eyes. If she dared to remain sad after seeing it, then she could go cry as far away as possible—just not near the outer disciples.
Shi Luoyi’s eyes were red-rimmed, her nose tip pink. Bian Lingyu’s gaze carried the chill of the morning breeze, yet it lingered on her features for a long while without moving.
An ivory-white hand, at some point, lightly tugged at his robe.
Bian Lingyu’s brows furrowed slightly, but it was already too late. Under his watchful gaze, the girl abruptly opened her eyes.
“Senior…” Shi Luoyi began, looking into Bian Lingyu’s cold, indifferent eyes. Her disbelief widened her gaze, and she swallowed the rest of her sentence mid-breath, choking on her words and flushing crimson.
Birds hopped onto branches, preening their feathers, while the morning breeze rustled through the forest, carrying the fresh scent of earth.
All signs pointed to the fact that this was no dream.
Shi Luoyi was utterly flustered. Meeting Bian Lingyu’s dark, murderous expression upon realizing he’d been caught, she hastily withdrew the hand clutching his sleeve.
She shivered. The owner of the clay rabbit… how could it possibly be Bian Lingyu?!
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