#80: Closeness

Seeing Bian Lingyu return, Shi Luoyi felt a wave of relief wash over her.

During the days he had been absent, she found the entire Divine Temple strangely altered—especially the attitudes of Houmi and the Great Priests toward her.

Previously, they had regarded her with suspicion and vigilance, treating her harshly as if waiting to catch her in some wrongdoing. But starting a few days ago, Shi Luoyi noticed that her situation had subtly changed.

Bian Lingyu’s palace, once grand yet cold and minimalist like his personality, was now being filled with items typically provided for long-term female residents. From cultivation-enhancing artifacts to the World-Seeing Mirror for observing the mortal realm, even down to the delicate lotus mist basin for washing hands… all manner of intricate gadgets were delivered.

Shi Luoyi also received several golden beans. When scattered on the ground, these summoned divine servants who obeyed only her commands—and could even have their faces adjusted! This led Shi Luoyi to spend half a day playfully tweaking the servants’ appearances.

By evening, she regretfully stopped herself and began to reflect deeply: How could she let herself be swayed by such sugar-coated distractions? With her identity still unclear and Bian Lingyu away from the temple, what if these elders chose to eliminate her as a “threat,” even at the cost of mutual destruction? No matter how curious she was about the gifts, she dared not touch them—not even the World-Seeing Mirror that allowed one to view the mortal realm.

These divine artifacts were immensely powerful. If they suddenly exploded or if the golden-bean servants turned against her, she wouldn’t stand a chance of evading harm.

When the divine attendants saw that Shi Luoyi had stopped playing, they asked if she wanted to take a walk.

“I can go out?” Shi Luoyi was surprised. She knew that Houmi had secretly ordered someone to keep an eye on her, ensuring she didn’t wander into restricted areas of the temple.

She hadn’t complained to Bian Lingyu about this; she understood the old man’s concerns for the temple’s safety. Given Bian Lingyu’s calm and detached nature, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to have loyal ministers watching over matters he didn’t personally care about.

The attendant replied: “Of course you can. I’ll accompany you.”

After some thought, fearing there might be ulterior motives, Shi Luoyi shook her head: “I won’t go.”

Unexpectedly, after her refusal, the attendants came to inquire every few hours.

“Is there anything you need? Are you feeling bored?”

“Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a walk?”

Shi Luoyi: “….” She shook her head, closed the chamber doors, and said, “I don’t need anything. I’m going to rest.”

The attendants were left helpless, while Houmi and the other Great Priests anxiously waited outside the temple.

“She doesn’t like our offerings? Gongxin, ask Gongying again if there’s anything else young women adore, and send more items!”

Gongxin chuckled: “You’re panicking now? Remember how you treated her before—denying her food, placing her in the most remote quarters, leaving her without conversation. Perhaps she lived better under Qingxuan than here.”

“This… is all my fault,” sighed Houmi, his already white hair growing visibly grayer with worry.

Now that he considered the possibility that Shi Luoyi might be the one who had slept in the depths of the Wandering Sea, he grew deeply uneasy. It wasn’t fear of retribution from her that troubled him—Houmi and the others were willing to accept any punishment. Rather, they feared she might grow to dislike the Divine Temple or harbor resentment toward the Divine Lord. Worse still, she might decide that the Northern Realm was preferable and leave altogether.

Everyone could see that their Divine Lord was inexperienced and awkward. If Shi Luoyi wished, she could easily hurt him.

Once seen as a little spy, she was now practically revered as an ancestor by all.

Heavenly Dao, protect them—if this girl truly was the fated empress, may she not harm their Divine Lord. Bian Lingyu had suffered enough in his youth; he shouldn’t endure hatred or disdain because of their mistakes.

The Great Priests had initially intended to make Shi Luoyi happy or feel welcomed by the temple before Bian Lingyu returned. Instead, their efforts had frightened her so much that she refused to open the door to the attendants.

For two days, Shi Luoyi secluded herself in meditation. As a child, she’d heard palace maids say that condemned prisoners were given a lavish last meal before execution. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Bian Lingyu’s ministers were preparing her for a similar fate, so she barely slept deeply, waiting anxiously for his return.

—Help! The Divine Temple feels terrifying!

Finally, today, Bian Lingyu returned. Overwhelmed with emotion, Shi Luoyi didn’t even bother putting on her shoes properly before rushing into his arms.

“How could you take so long to come back?” Her voice carried traces of sleepiness and, unusually, a hint of plaintiveness. She hadn’t worn an outer robe—the temple was warm as spring—and her thin, pale-pink blouse revealed the delicate outline of her arms.

Unprepared for the soft body colliding into his chest, Bian Lingyu’s divine awareness froze for a moment. Awkwardly, he responded: “I’ll try to return faster next time.”

In truth, he had already returned quickly. Others would have taken at least seven or eight days, but Bian Lingyu had traveled day and night, completing the journey in just three days.

Lowering his gaze, he saw the top of her soft hair. He hesitated, raising his hand—but just as he was about to touch her slender waist, the girl suddenly pulled away. He pursed his lips and silently withdrew his hand, pretending nothing had happened.

“Did you finish everything? Are you hurt?” Shi Luoyi, sensing the chill emanating from him, tilted her head to inspect him closely. She feared he might be concealing injuries, as he often did, hiding wounds beneath his stoic exterior.

“No.”

Seeing that he truly wasn’t hurt, Shi Luoyi tried to pull him toward the bed to rest.

But the Divine Lord remained immovable as a mountain. Puzzled, Shi Luoyi looked up at him, meeting his jade-like, aloof face. Avoiding her bright, dewy eyes, Bian Lingyu murmured: “I should bathe first.”

Shi Luoyi assumed he simply valued cleanliness—even after days of exertion, he likely wanted to freshen up. She naturally didn’t object, nodding and releasing him.

Having gone three days without proper rest, Shi Luoyi’s fatigue finally caught up with her. Originally a mortal cultivator, living in the Divine Temple was far more taxing for her than for divine beings. Now, as drowsiness overtook her, she stared hazily at the Qilin patterns carved into the palace walls, thinking: Bian Lingyu’s bath today seems longer than usual… Perhaps he’s particularly fastidious tonight after his journey.

Moments later, just as Shi Luoyi was about to drift off, someone finally lay down beside her.

Opening her misty eyes, she found Bian Lingyu watching her. Their gazes met, and he pursed his lips, speaking in a calm, steady voice: “I’m… done.”

Shi Luoyi blinked sleepily: “Mm.” Then, let’s rest.

Beneath the silver glow of the divine array, her eyes shimmered with moisture and beauty.

Before Shi Luoyi appeared, Bian Lingyu had never considered taking an empress. Xi Yao had left him with no fond memories, and the very concept of an empress filled him with aversion and rejection.

He had even found Houmi and the others absurd for suggesting that an empress accompany him into the Sacred Birthplace to continue the Qilin bloodline—a meaningless endeavor that would delay his efforts to purge the demonic core. Perhaps thousands or millions of years later, when gravely injured or facing death, he would coldly fulfill his duty like Huanqi, leaving behind heirs to guard the six realms while he faded into oblivion.

Bian Lingyu had believed he would never yearn for or anticipate such things. But on his journey back, he realized otherwise.

He hadn’t needed to expend so much divine energy; he could have waited until dawn to return. Yet, here he was, back in his chambers before the night had ended.

Just as now, he waited for Shi Luoyi to act. Bian Lingyu didn’t know how he had interacted with her before, but the sword-cultivating girl seemed bold and unrestrained. She could provoke Houmi with just a few words, making his ears burn as he listened to the Great Priests discuss matters.

But moments later, her eyelashes fluttered shut, her breathing steadied, and she fell asleep beside him—without asking him to hold her.

……

The Divine Lord remained silent for a long while, finally realizing his misunderstanding. Her words from two days prior had merely been meant to provoke Houmi. He pulled Shi Luoyi’s embroidered blanket over a certain area.

Even someone as aloof as him felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest.

Bian Lingyu stared expressionlessly at the peacefully sleeping Shi Luoyi: “If you say such things again…”

He gazed at her for a long time. The girl remained oblivious, appearing gentle and serene, yet somehow even more carefree. Despite this, Bian Lingyu still couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The divine flowers of the temple opened and closed throughout the night, their fragrance wafting through the half-open window. The night in the divine realm was tranquil and peaceful, and for the first time since falling into the Wandering Sea, Shi Luoyi slept soundly through the night.

The next day, Shi Luoyi seized the opportunity to tell Bian Lingyu about the strange occurrences in the temple.

Speaking of it, she seemed troubled, almost as if the words “I don’t like the temple; it makes me feel so insecure” were written on her face.

For the first time in his life, Bian Lingyu understood the mindset of the Great Priests and Houmi. Gazing at Shi Luoyi, he couldn’t help but wonder—since she was his Dao companion… why hadn’t she sought to be closer to him? Could it be because she felt wronged in the temple?

Thinking back to when he had coldly ordered Houmi to send her away, Bian Lingyu’s expression remained impassive, but unease quietly stirred within him.

Lowering his gaze, he said: “You didn’t like what they sent you? What do you like? I have a private treasury…”

Bian Lingyu’s private treasury contained items passed down through generations of the Qilin clan. He had never desired anything beyond the Heaven-Cleaving Sword that he had inherited and fused with. He hadn’t even bothered to examine the rest.

That same day, the private treasury was delivered to Shi Luoyi.

An overwhelming array of divine artifacts, fragments of ancient treasures, and rare heavenly materials were piled up like a mountain. She had once thought that the wealth of Buye Mountain was impressive, but nothing compared to the sheer magnitude of Bian Lingyu’s inheritance.

Random items from the collection could practically force-feed someone into ascending.

Even more astonishing was that the man who owned all of this said to her: “If there’s still nothing you like, I can go find more.”

“Th-that’s enough,” she finally realized that the others weren’t trying to harm her. “Were they apologizing to me?”

“Yes.”

Shi Luoyi exhaled in relief: “Then tell them I’m not angry anymore. They don’t need to send anything else. Just knowing I’m not from the Northern Realm is enough.”

Bian Lingyu nodded and asked: “Are you still angry with me?”

Shi Luoyi knew he was referring to when he had callously sent her away. Looking at his slightly tense body and aloof demeanor, she shook her head: “No, I’m not.”

“Then why…” He pursed his lips, then stopped under her puzzled gaze. “Never mind.”

In the afternoon, Bian Lingyu explained the matter of the Heavenly Mandate Jade Tablet to her and summoned Houmi and the others to clarify everything. The old man, upright and sincere, bowed deeply to her in apology.

“You may punish me however you see fit.”

Seeing the elderly man nearly kneeling before her, Shi Luoyi quickly helped him up: “It was just a joke—I didn’t mean anything by it. As for the jade tablet, it was an unintended consequence that spared Bian Lingyu further pain. The past can’t be changed, but I hope you won’t misunderstand me in the future.”

Seeing how magnanimous Shi Luoyi was, Houmi felt even more ashamed: “Though you may not hold it against me, I will still accept my punishment.”

Shi Luoyi tried to dissuade him but eventually gave up, feeling both helpless and enlightened. Under such rigid doctrines, it was no wonder that Bian Lingyu had developed such a cold and detached personality.

The divine race truly didn’t know how to raise children.

When they said they would accept punishment, they actually went through with it. Their reason? Disrespecting the empress. Shi Luoyi asked Bian Lingyu to intervene, ensuring that these elderly men wouldn’t endure divine punishment.

“I’m not really the empress anyway. A simple misunderstanding doesn’t warrant such extremes.”

Bian Lingyu glanced at her and acted according to her wishes.

Houmi said: “It’s all my fault for taking it upon myself to arrange the selection of an empress for you. If the empress holds it against you, I’ll explain everything.”

“No need,” Bian Lingyu replied. “She understands.”

“Then…” Houmi hesitated, “Will she stay?”

Bian Lingyu couldn’t answer that question. He feared that Shi Luoyi might dislike it here and prefer the Northern Realm. He remembered the sadness in her tone when she first arrived at the divine realm.

Several remorseful elders eagerly offered suggestions: “Divine Lord, don’t follow the example of the previous master. Be proactive when necessary.”

Uncharacteristically, Bian Lingyu didn’t find their advice annoying and silently listened. Could he be more proactive? Would she reject him?

He thought more deeply than his ministers did. That day, he visited the place where Qingxuan’s divine soul was imprisoned.

As cousins returning to the divine realm, this was the first time they spoke so calmly. Knowing Bian Lingyu’s purpose, Qingxuan carried not only weapons for killing but also a fragment of琉璃 (liuli).

He tossed the liuli fragment to Bian Lingyu: “When will you announce the Northern Realm’s surrender?”

Bian Lingyu caught the liuli fragment: “Tomorrow, Gongxin will go to the Northern Realm to officially take control of the illusion.”

Qingxuan understood the nature of the divine realm’s Great Priests. Gongxin wouldn’t mistreat the Chifeng clan. He said: “This choice is good. Thank you.”

The next day, Zhong Hao came again to plead for Bian Lingyu to hand Qingxuan over to him for punishment. Bian Lingyu simply and brutally replied: “He’s already dead.”

He opened his palm, revealing a wisp of soul energy.

Zhong Hao: “….” He was useless, unable to discern any inconsistencies. Besides, delving deeper into Qingxuan’s case would expose the numerous scandals involving the Chifeng princess. His wife and eldest son were cruel, and Zhong Hao himself wasn’t unaware of it.

Bian Lingyu didn’t particularly like this uncle of his. His words were always icy and sharp: “Stay out of my way unless necessary.”

There was nothing Zhong Hao could do about this strong yet cold nephew and could only agree.

That day, the divine temple announced that the rebel Qingxuan had been executed, and the Northern Realm would henceforth be governed by Great Priest Gongxin. It was no longer a rebel territory. Qingxuan mingled among the divine guards, following them back to the Northern Realm. He had signed a divine contract with Bian Lingyu and sworn to the Heavenly Dao that one year later, he would lead his clan into the Demon Extermination Grounds.

Regardless of success or failure, he would remain there for the rest of his life, never to emerge again. Those of his clansmen who fought until the end would gain freedom.

One year later, Bian Lingyu would use his divine body as a medium to help open the Demon Extermination Grounds for Qingxuan.

On the day Qingxuan left, he cast one last glance at the temple. It shimmered with divine light, blooming with the most beautiful flowers of the divine realm and filled with the richest spiritual energy. Only in such a place could those flowers thrive.

He averted his gaze.

On the same day, Shi Luoyi received a piece of liuli—the key to entering the illusion.

With it, she was no longer at Qingxuan’s mercy. She could now visit her father in the Northern Realm whenever she wished.