#32: Reactions

The barren mountain stretched endlessly before them, the howling wind mingling with the sound of rain. Shi Luoyi stood under the eaves, summoning her courage as she said, “Since you don’t have someone you like, why don’t you become my Dao partner?”

On the way back from escorting A-Xiu, Shi Luoyi had imagined countless times how Bian Lingyu might react to this proposal. She had envisioned many scenarios—perhaps he would be enraged and tell her to leave, or simply ignore her as if she were spouting nonsense.

Regardless, Shi Luoyi had mentally prepared herself for any outcome.

The heavy rain pounded relentlessly against the ground, splashing into puddles and creating ripples that quickly dissipated.

But Bian Lingyu’s reaction wasn’t anything she had anticipated. After she spoke, his eyes shot up in shock, locking onto her with an expression that went utterly blank.

Shi Luoyi’s face mirrored his bewilderment. What was this? It was unlike any reaction she had imagined.

Bian Lingyu’s hand, resting on his lap, trembled slightly as it clenched his robe. His gaze churned like storm clouds gathering in the sky.

His voice came out hoarse: “Shi Luoyi, do you understand what you’re saying?” Is it because you haven’t fully recovered from your demonic possession, or have I gone mad to hear such words?

His tone was so low that, had Shi Luoyi not been standing close, she might not have heard him at all. By the end of his question, his voice sounded strained, almost breathless, as though it took every ounce of strength to ask her to repeat herself.

Shi Luoyi finally snapped out of her daze, inwardly groaning. See? She knew Bian Lingyu would react this way.

She dared not repeat herself, fearing it would only worsen the situation. Instead, she rushed to clarify: “Don’t misunderstand me—I’m not making any advances toward you. When I say ‘Dao partner,’ I mean a fake marriage. Think about it—this barren mountain is dangerous. Today I was here to protect you, but what if next time I’m not in time and something happens to you?”

“Fake marriage…” Bian Lingyu’s gaze stopped trembling as he pressed his pale, thin lips together tightly.

Not as angry anymore, right? Encouraged by this, Shi Luoyi continued: “What happened today is just the beginning. You wouldn’t want something like this to happen again, would you? Come with me. Though my current situation isn’t great, and I can’t promise you much, I swear this: as long as I’m alive, I’ll make sure you stay safe. If one day you meet someone you love, or if you grow tired of life in the Hengwu Sect and find a place you want to go or something you want to do, I’ll send you on your way.”

Bian Lingyu looked at her. That initial shock, like a hand squeezing his heart until it ached, had nearly caused him to lose composure. But now, realizing he had misunderstood, he forced himself to listen calmly as she spoke.

“Go on,” he said, his tone already returning to normal. He glanced down at his still-trembling hand, quietly moving it to his side so Shi Luoyi wouldn’t see.

“But being with me may also come with risks. The future is uncertain, and I’m not without selfish motives.” From the start, Shi Luoyi had no intention of deceiving Bian Lingyu. She spoke honestly, her voice tinged with both sadness and nostalgia: “I want to return to Bu Ye Mountain. Since my father fell into slumber, it has been under the sect leader’s control. Marrying is the best way to return openly and legitimately. If you agree, it would be ideal. Do you understand what I mean?”

“A fake marriage, each of us taking what we need.” Bian Lingyu’s tone remained flat and unemotional.

Shi Luoyi nodded.

Raindrops fell into the muddy puddles in the courtyard, vanishing instantly and leaving behind murky, swirling water—just like the complexity of Bian Lingyu’s emotions.

The two stood in silence, neither speaking.

Shi Luoyi gazed hopefully at Bian Lingyu, her heart growing uneasy. Would he agree? Or would he still think she harbored ulterior motives, burdened by trouble, and outright reject her?

But Bian Lingyu remained silent, his long fingers pale and jointed, resembling a statue carved from jade.

Anxious and disheartened, Shi Luoyi sighed: “You don’t agree?”

Bian Lingyu’s expression gave nothing away. His dark lashes lowered as he finally spoke after a long pause: “If I don’t agree, will you simply find someone else?”

His question caught her off guard… and Shi Luoyi couldn’t help but laugh: “How could I? If you don’t agree, I’ll put this idea aside for now.”

Marriage wasn’t as simple as plucking a spiritual herb—it required living together day and night, sharing a life. If she didn’t trust Bian Lingyu completely, she never would have proposed it.

Bian Lingyu said: “I’m just an ordinary mortal.”

Though his words were simple, Shi Luoyi unexpectedly understood their meaning.

This statement gave her hope—he hadn’t outright rejected her, which meant he might consider it, right? Her eyes brightened as she said: “My mother was also a mortal. My father knew her life would be but a fleeting moment compared to his own, yet he still chose her without hesitation. Our situation may be different, and the road ahead of us is difficult, but this journey doesn’t require us to walk far together. We only need to endure this hardship side by side. If I outlive you, I’ll take good care of you as you grow old. If I fail against fate and leave this world before you, I’ll ensure you have a good place to go.”

Thinking of how her father had married her mother, sparing no expense despite his humble beginnings, she felt a rare twinge of embarrassment. Still, her voice brimmed with hope: “Will you consider it?”

Whether it was one of her words or the sincerity behind them, something seemed to move Bian Lingyu. The coldness around him melted away. After a long while, he averted his gaze, staring at the puddle on the ground as he murmured softly: “Mm.”

“Eh?” Shi Luoyi blinked, bluntly pressing him for clarification: “Bian Lingyu, does ‘mm’ mean you’ll consider it, or does it mean you agree?”

Before he could respond, Shi Luoyi broke into a smile, joy spreading across her eyes and brows: “It means you agree, doesn’t it?”

For Bian Lingyu, this decision was akin to choosing whether to swallow poison coated in honey. His expression was complex and distant, but he silently nodded.

Shi Luoyi’s eyes sparkled like they were filled with countless stars. Her past and present lives were now irrevocably different. Finally, someone was willing to walk this difficult path with her. Not only had Bian Lingyu forgiven her completely, but she could also return home. In her heart, she now had another family member in this world.

“Pack your things. Once the rain stops, I’ll take you away.”

As the rain grew lighter, Zhao Qiang and a few others emerged from the cave where they had taken shelter, their faces twisted with ill intent.

“Those inner sect disciples should be done by now, right?”

“Who knows if that guy’s still alive.”

A flicker of venom flashed in Zhao Qiang’s eyes as he sneered: “A-Xiu should’ve seen it too.”

She wanted A-Xiu to witness how the man she admired had been humiliated, brought low, and made pitiful. Let’s see if she still liked him then.

The disciples trudged back toward the wooden cabin. They had been trapped in this desolate mountain for years, unable to see any hope. The endless wilderness offered only a bleak future unless an order from the inner sect allowed them to leave. Everyone here shared the same dead-end destiny.

Numb and malicious, they wished misfortune upon others—or for everyone to fall equally into despair.

On their way back, they speculated endlessly about how miserable Bian Lingyu must be. But when they arrived, they didn’t find the scene of ruin or the battered body of Bian Lingyu that they had expected.

The door to the wooden cabin had indeed been kicked open, but the earth smelled fresh from the rain. Chickens wandered leisurely in the courtyard, and the place exuded an air of serene tranquility. Yet, there was no sign of anyone inside the house.

Zhao Qiang and the others searched the entire house and found that most of Bian Lingyu’s belongings were untouched—but he was nowhere to be found.

Thinking of the inner sect disciples’ methods, they couldn’t help but speculate: “Dead? Taken care of by the inner sect disciples?”

Zhao Qiang sneered, disappointed that they hadn’t returned in time to mock him. “So useless they couldn’t even last until we got back.” The group grumbled curses and exchanged vulgar remarks.

Suddenly, someone’s eyes widened: “Wh-what’s that?”

Zhao Qiang turned to follow his gaze and noticed that, at some point, bamboo figurines had appeared in every corner of the courtyard.

The bamboo figurines hovered in the air, faceless yet exuding an eerie coldness.

“Who, who’s playing tricks on us!”

Zhao Qiang was the first to rush out, intending to smash the bamboo figurines down. However, he soon realized he couldn’t leave the house no matter how hard he tried—he couldn’t take a single step beyond the threshold.

Only then did the group panic. The wooden cabin seemed to have transformed into a cage, trapping them all inside.

And at that moment, a pack of demonic beasts slowly encircled the wooden house.

The beasts’ eyes glowed green as they hungrily eyed the group. None of them had ever seen such a sight before. Within moments, their legs went limp, weaker than noodles. One beast alone could devour them all, and now there were too many to count! They surrounded the wooden house, not attacking immediately but instilling an unbearable fear of being torn apart at any moment.

Realizing there was no escape, Zhao Qiang and the others lost all traces of arrogance and malice. Some were so terrified they wet their pants, and they began pleading with the bamboo figurines: “Let us go, please, Master! I know I was wrong—please let me leave!”

The bamboo figurines stood clean and pristine, cold yet tinged with pity.

For a moment, Zhao Qiang shuddered as he recalled the gaze of the young man when he had first arrived.

In that instant, they finally understood what it felt like for those they had deliberately tormented over the years in this wooden cabin.

Once hunters, they were now prey. The souls of those who had died in agony now watched them, unblinking.

Their victims had once felt this same terror—and now it was their turn.

________________________________________

Shi Luoyi knew nothing of what was happening back at the cabin. By the time the rain had just stopped, she had already left the desolate mountain with Bian Lingyu.

Before leaving, she asked Bian Lingyu if there was anything he wanted to take with him.

Bian Lingyu simply shook his head. In the end, he took nothing, pushing his wheelchair out on his own.

But when their eyes met, he lowered his gaze.

Shi Luoyi felt a flicker of awkwardness from his subtle discomfort, which made her feel slightly uneasy as well. After all, from this moment forward, their relationship would be different.

Shi Luoyi had never formed a Dao partnership with anyone in her past or present life—Jiang Yan didn’t count—and she found it both curious and pitiable that her future partner would now share this bond with her.

There were many in this world who claimed to be alone, but none were truly as solitary as Bian Lingyu.

Even long ago, when she had disliked him, Shi Luoyi couldn’t deny that he appeared clean and pure. Now, more than ever, she clearly realized that aside from himself, Bian Lingyu seemed to possess nothing at all.

Her heart softened. After a moment’s thought, she pulled a small rabbit figurine from her sleeve and handed it to Bian Lingyu.

“There, hold onto this,” she said. She remembered she still had her Wish-Fulfilling Lock, but with the heart demons plaguing her this lifetime, she feared she might never find someone she truly loved. It would be better to give it to Bian Lingyu—at least the lock could help nourish his body. “I’ll give you something else later, but this time, you can’t throw it away.”

If he threw it away again, it would hurt her deeply.

Bian Lingyu was caught off guard as a clay rabbit was thrust into his hands. Since it was something he had crafted himself, the rabbit even contained one of his bone spurs, giving it a semblance of life. Its watery eyes gazed up at him, still carrying the lingering warmth of the girl who had held it. Now, passed into new hands, it seemed almost forlorn.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, tightening his grip on the rabbit as he looked at Shi Luoyi.

He remembered how she had accepted Jiang Yan’s kite—so why wouldn’t she accept his things?

Shi Luoyi shook her head. “I like it very much. But originally, I planned to use it to return home. Now I don’t need it anymore—we can go home openly together. Before the wedding, I won’t always be able to watch over you, so it’s better for the rabbit to stay by your side. It can temporarily protect you.”

Upon hearing this, Bian Lingyu gave a soft “Mm” in acknowledgment. He held the rabbit in one hand, unconsciously tightening his grip. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of confusion and unease.

To this day, Bian Lingyu still couldn’t comprehend how all of this had happened.

It was utterly absurd.

His agreement felt even more absurd. Under her impulsive idea, it was as though his emotions were completely out of his control—she could act recklessly, but did that mean he wasn’t thinking clearly either?

The girl seemed to adapt to her new role quickly, but Bian Lingyu struggled to adjust.

This was only the beginning. Could he really act as if nothing had changed, guarding his heart and actions while living alongside Shi Luoyi?