#46: Letting Go

Bian Lingyu lowered his gaze to look at her. The young girl’s cheeks were flushed pink, and her breathing was still slightly erratic. Hearing his denial, she let out a sigh of relief and murmured softly: “Oh, then go ahead and kiss me if you want, but afterward, let’s sleep. We still need to visit Mother tomorrow.”

When he said no, Shi Luoyi believed him, as she didn’t think jealousy was something worth denying. She assumed Bian Lingyu only harbored a shallow fondness for her, after all, she knew her face wasn’t bad.

Before Bian Qingxuan arrived, quite a few cultivators had blushed in her presence.

Bian Lingyu silently gazed at Shi Luoyi for a moment. She stared back with her shimmering, water-like eyes, seemingly asking him wordlessly: You’ve already kissed me, so why aren’t you sleeping yet?

From the moment Shi Luoyi proposed becoming true Dao partners, Bian Lingyu knew she understood his feelings—but only partially.

“I’ll stay like this for a little longer,” he said, burying his head into the crook of her neck.

In the past, their kisses had always been too intense, and he had never dared to linger like this. This was the first time Bian Lingyu held her in a possessive embrace, trying to calm his own emotions. Shi Luoyi felt a bit flustered but didn’t push him away, quietly allowing him to hold her.

His lips remained well-behaved, not venturing lower.

She thought he might be struggling with restraint, so after some hesitation, she kindly suggested: “Or… maybe we can try again next time?”

Her words made Bian Lingyu lift his head to look at her.

Seeing Shi Luoyi’s expression—resigned and bracing herself, her ears red, looking as though she were offering her life to humor him—all of Bian Lingyu’s lingering unease dissipated.

He propped himself up slightly, feeling as though a hand had squeezed his heart, leaving it both aching and warm. He murmured softly: “I know you’re afraid, and I don’t want to force you.”

Shi Luoyi was indeed a little afraid, though she didn’t want to admit it: “It’s fine… not that scared.” After all, it wasn’t like she would die from it.

Bian Lingyu lowered his gaze and asked her: “Back then… did it hurt a lot?”

This was the first time they had spoken about that incident. Shi Luoyi answered vaguely: “I think… it did. What about you? Did it hurt?”

Meeting her bright, dewy eyes, he replied: “Mm, it hurt.”

Not only had he been unable to move her, but her cruel words had shredded his heart inch by inch. Yet all he could do was listen, watch her, and endure the pain that left him bleeding internally.

Hearing this, Shi Luoyi’s expression grew complicated: “If it hurt you too, then why do you still want to now?”

That one sentence shattered the atmosphere between them.

“…” Bian Lingyu released her. “Let’s sleep.”

After a while, when her breathing finally steadied, Bian Lingyu looked at Shi Luoyi. His heart was calm and peaceful. He knew that this—right here, right now—was good enough.

Even if Shi Luoyi didn’t love him, she was still willing to cuddle with him and give him her best. This warmth was, for him, the most beautiful dream before his departure.

He had his mission, and she had her long life ahead, filled with endless beauty and light.

Shi Luoyi didn’t need to see everything; glimpsing the surface-level affection was enough. This way, she would never have to bear heavy burdens and could live happily on Buye Mountain, waiting for her father to awaken.

Outside the window of Southern Yue, the wind howled fiercely. But in Bian Lingyu’s heart, there was only calm and serenity. Even if this moment was fleeting, at least for now, she was his.

The next day, they visited the imperial mausoleum to pay respects to Princess Wan Qian.

Zhao Shu, knowing they would come, had already been waiting at the mausoleum.

Today, he wore casual robes, and his etiquette was impeccable. Beside him stood a masked figure clad in black, their true appearance obscured.

Zhao Shu introduced them briefly: “This is the Grand Master of Southern Yue.”

The Grand Master nodded toward Shi Luoyi.

Shi Luoyi glanced at the Grand Master. It was her first time seeing a grand master completely shrouded in black robes, but even if Zhao Shu dabbled in unorthodox methods, she couldn’t interfere since the Grand Master bore no trace of malevolence.

She and Bian Lingyu entered the mausoleum. Before entering, Bian Lingyu cast a glance at the Grand Master.

That glance was cold, causing the hand the Grand Master had exposed outside their sleeve to retreat further inside.

Noticing his gaze, Shi Luoyi asked: “What’s wrong?”

Bian Lingyu replied: “Nothing.”

After they finished paying their respects and exited, Zhao Shu was still there, but the Grand Master had disappeared. Zhao Shu still hoped Shi Luoyi would return to the palace, but she firmly declined.

Yesterday, Bian Lingyu’s reaction had made her view Zhao Shu with some suspicion. Remembering the consort who bore a three-tenths resemblance to her, she felt uneasy.

As she and Bian Lingyu walked away, Zhao Shu watched them from behind, his gaze growing increasingly sinister.

Thirteen years ago, Shi Luoyi had left the mausoleum without looking back. Even now, despite holding absolute power, some things remained as helpless as they were back then.

Zhao Shu’s gaze shifted from Shi Luoyi to Bian Lingyu, his tone laced with venom: “What right does he have to have her when I cannot?”

The black-robed Grand Master appeared behind him without notice: “Your Majesty simply isn’t strong enough yet.”

The Grand Master’s voice was hoarse, tinged with a faint smile: “I promised Your Majesty long ago that I would help you obtain everything you desire.”

On their way back to the inn, Shi Luoyi sent Hui Xiang to inquire about events in Southern Yue over the past few years.

Wood spirits gathered information much faster than humans, but what surprised Shi Luoyi was that Zhao Shu hadn’t resumed keeping sea spirits. Instead, he had amassed a large number of slaves who were sent annually to the South Sea to collect pearls.

This wasn’t beneficial for either the slaves or the sea spirits, but it wasn’t lethal either, which explained why no one had criticized it.

Frowning at the news, Shi Luoyi reflected on how her mother’s efforts had lasted for decades but were now effectively undone.

“The wood spirits say the new ruler of Southern Yue hasn’t kept any demons.”

This was at least somewhat good news; at least Southern Yue wouldn’t become a target of universal condemnation.

Bian Lingyu asked Shi Luoyi: “Are you going to intervene in the matter of the slaves and sea spirits?”

Shi Luoyi shook her head: “I won’t meddle in this. Father once told me that cultivators must not interfere in mortal affairs. All things under heaven have their own variables. We can ensure peace for sentient beings, but we must not harbor bias.”

“Shi Huan was right. He raised you well.”

Hearing him speak this way, Shi Luoyi couldn’t help but laugh and correct him: “What do you mean ‘Shi Huan’? You’re my husband—he’s your father too.”

Bian Lingyu could vaguely recall Shi Huan’s appearance; he had seen him ten years ago during the battle at the Delusion Sea.

Growing up, Bian Lingyu had never called his own father “Father,” but under the earnest expression of the young girl, he found that the title carried a newfound warmth.

The three of them continued walking toward the inn.

As they walked, Hui Xiang communicated with the wood spirits, her expression astonished. She quickly relayed recent disturbances in the mortal world, including the arrival of Bian Qingxuan and Wei Changyuan to exterminate demons, to Shi Luoyi.

Shi Luoyi listened silently, gazing at the heavy skies over Southern Yue. She couldn’t shake the feeling that a storm was approaching.

As fate would have it, when they returned to the inn, they encountered Bian Qingxuan and her group of disciples checking in.

The innkeeper fawned over Bian Qingxuan, beaming with delight as Bian Qingxuan, still dressed in her signature cyan robes, casually tossed a large pouch of silver coins to her.

Wei Changyuan sat in the lobby with a cold expression, while the disciples trailing behind Bian Qingxuan resembled silent quails.

Hearing footsteps, Bian Qingxuan seemed to sense something and turned to look.

Her gaze deliberately skipped past Shi Luoyi, landing instead on Bian Lingyu. With a faint smile, she said: “Brother, it’s been a while since we last met. How have you been?”

Bian Lingyu gave her a cold glance but didn’t respond.

There was no trace of sarcasm in Bian Qingxuan’s words—her tone was mild and even carried a hint of warmth. To an outsider, it might have sounded like a simple greeting. However, both divine beings knew how brutal their last battle had been. The wound that had pierced Bian Qingxuan’s abdomen still hadn’t fully healed.

Bian Qingxuan was genuinely surprised to see that Bian Lingyu could now stand on his own.

A thought seemed to cross her mind, and her smile faded slightly. She said: “Ah, I forgot—you’ve certainly been doing well.”

After speaking, she finally turned her attention to Shi Luoyi: “Senior Sister Luo Yi…”

Shi Luoyi stared back at her, expressionless, clearly conveying a “Don’t bother—I don’t want to hear your nonsense” vibe.

Bian Qingxuan paused for a moment, her forced smile becoming slightly more genuine. She made no attempt to irritate Shi Luoyi this time—it had been so long since she’d last seen her.

Shi Luoyi remained as vibrant and radiant as ever. After glancing at her briefly, Bian Qingxuan averted her gaze and resumed speaking with the innkeeper.

Once their conversation ended, the group of disciples came forward to greet them. Each face bore traces of awkwardness.

Now that Bian Qingxuan no longer controlled them, they could hardly believe that they had once spoken ill of Shi Luoyi. Over time, traveling with Bian Qingxuan, they had also realized that their junior sister wasn’t as gentle or kind as they had once imagined.

Today marked the first time in many days that Bian Qingxuan had smiled like she used to.

The disciples, having endured the oppressive atmosphere between Wei Changyuan and Bian Qingxuan for so long, found themselves feeling a strange sense of warmth toward Shi Luoyi.

However, Shi Luoyi harbored no particular feelings for them. With a bland acknowledgment, she tugged Bian Lingyu toward their room.

“Junior Sister.”

Shi Luoyi paused mid-step and turned to look at Wei Changyuan.

Truthfully, she had noticed him the moment they entered the inn. Wei Changyuan had changed significantly.

Once hailed as a prodigy with an innate talent for swordsmanship, he had possessed a refined and elegant demeanor. Now, however, he appeared gaunt, his cheeks pale, and his eyes devoid of their former brilliance.

He was no longer the spirited figure he once was, not even resembling the confident young man who had scolded her during her rebirth.

From across the group of disciples, Shi Luoyi felt a pang of regret. Regardless of anything else, her senior brother shouldn’t have ended up like this. But the jade pendant representing their bond had shattered, and the final thread of their connection had been severed when Long Mingzhu cut ties. Moreover, she now had her Dao partner.

In her eyes, Wei Changyuan was now just another ordinary senior brother.

“Senior Brother Wei.”

Wei Changyuan’s gaze fell upon Shi Luoyi and Bian Lingyu’s intertwined hands, a shallow ache spreading through his chest. That day, when he had chosen not to heed Bian Qingxuan’s urging to disrupt Shi Luoyi’s Dao partner ceremony, he had already known this moment would come.

Wei Changyuan had believed he had moved on. When the jade pendant broke in the courtyard and he chose Bian Qingxuan over Shi Luoyi, he thought he had already forgotten their youthful bond.

But ever since his mother’s passing, the image of Bian Qingxuan in his mind had grown fainter and fainter. In his midnight dreams, all he saw were memories of Shi Luoyi.

Wei Changyuan recalled many things that had long since blurred in his memory.

In his dreams, Shi Luoyi was just as she had been in her youth, lying beside him on the grass, gazing at the moon of Buye Mountain from a hillside.

His usually stern face softened with the faint smile of a carefree youth—a smile he hadn’t worn in ages.

He remembered how the pastries he brought for her had been crushed during a demon extermination mission, leaving him embarrassed and hesitant to offer them. Yet she had accepted them with a bright smile, sharing them with him until nothing was left.

When Wei Changyuan awoke, he remained dazed for a long time, only to find his eyes wet with tears.

This was the first time in so long that he had seen Shi Luoyi. She stood on the stairs, hand in hand with her Dao partner, turning her head to look at him across the fractured years. Yet all she offered was a distant “Senior Brother Wei.”

It felt as though the wound in his chest had been torn open again. The lingering pain, which had always been muted, became vividly real today. This injury—one that would likely never heal—was etched deeply into his soul.

Shi Luoyi tilted her head slightly, still waiting for him to speak. Wei Changyuan opened his mouth but found himself unable to utter a single word.

He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Bian Lingyu by her side.

Seeing that Wei Changyuan wouldn’t speak, Shi Luoyi finally said: “If there’s nothing else, Senior Brother, we’ll take our leave.”

Throughout the exchange between Shi Luoyi and Wei Changyuan, Bian Lingyu had been watching her quietly.

If Wei Changyuan had only just begun to feel this pain today, Bian Lingyu had already endured it countless times. For so long, Shi Luoyi’s eyes had held only Wei Changyuan. Bian Lingyu had lingered in the shadows, like a monster yearning for her from afar.

She had never looked at him, never walked toward him.

Bian Lingyu had grown accustomed to it—wherever Wei Changyuan was, he would always feel out of place, abandoned. Just as no matter how high his father’s status or how deep his love, his mother had always favored a lowly gatekeeper.

Every time Bian Lingyu lost to Wei Changyuan, the only way he could salvage a shred of dignity was by pretending not to care—only then could he avoid appearing completely defeated.

Though Bian Lingyu would never admit it, seeing Zhao Shu at most stirred anger within him. But seeing Wei Changyuan evoked a chilling sense of despair that welled up from deep within his heart.

When Shi Luoyi paused and turned back to look at Wei Changyuan, those past memories caused Bian Lingyu to tighten his grip on her hand.

Was he regretful? Did he feel pity for Wei Changyuan?

Was his final fleeting dream about to shatter as well? His lips pressed tightly together. Perhaps letting go voluntarily might have seemed more dignified, but his hand only clenched tighter.

Yet Shi Luoyi’s soft hand remained firmly in his. Bian Lingyu realized that the way she looked at Wei Changyuan now held no trace of lingering affection.

For a moment, he was stunned, as if a cool breeze had swept across an empty plain within him. Only belatedly did he notice countless lush spring trees sprouting forth with vibrant life. This was the first time in ten years since Bian Lingyu had fallen into the mortal realm that he felt himself stepping out of winter’s grasp.

When they returned to their room, there was no sign of anything unusual in Bian Lingyu’s demeanor.

Shi Luoyi suggested: “Let’s not stay at the inn anymore. I have a house in Southern Yue.” She didn’t want to see Bian Qingxuan again.

As she spoke, a faint glow lit up her face.

That house had once been occupied by a monstrous entity, and many years ago, it had belonged to a wealthy merchant’s family. That time, Shi Luoyi had barely survived, but she had been elated. She wasn’t the cursed disaster her fellow disciples often labeled her as. She had succeeded in completing the mission on her own.

She had bound the man-eating monsters, and the deed to the property had fallen into her hands.

“Though it’s been a long time since I last visited, it might be a bit dirty and will need cleaning,” she said.

Bian Lingyu naturally had no objections. Zhu Yan was likely still in Southern Yue, and even if Shi Luoyi decided to leave, he couldn’t abandon this place.

That same day, they moved out of the inn, sparing themselves any further awkward exchanges with the Hengwu Sect disciples.

The house was indeed as she had described—dirty, old, and somewhat dilapidated, though traces of its former grandeur were still visible. For cultivators, however, cleaning was a simple task.

In the evening, Shi Luoyi received a message from Zhao Shu via carrier pigeon.

Bian Lingyu noticed her distracted expression after reading the letter and asked: “What is it?”

“Zhao Shu has invited me to attend a palace banquet.” After a brief pause, she added, her lips pressing into a thin line: “He says he has a method to awaken my father.”

For sixty years in her previous life, she had desperately sought a way to revive her father, but ultimately, she had failed.

Zhao Shu’s offer was practically a guaranteed lure—he was certain she wouldn’t refuse.