Zhao Lixuan had a dream.
In the dream, he was toasting and laughing with the demon immortals at the farewell banquet one moment, and the next, he was back at Xiao Xue Tower twenty years ago, gathering with his old classmates.
It was the same lively scene of newly brewed green ant wine and a small stove fired with red clay.
No matter who he drank with, he didn’t mind. Amid the hazy drunkenness, the one constant between the two dream scenes—past and present—was the person behind him who always wanted to drag him away from the table, and that low, restrained voice in his ear: “Li Xuan, enough. You’re drunk.”
“No more drinking.”
“…”
Later, Zhao Lixuan had seriously pondered why Jiang Chen hadn’t liked him back then.
There were many reasons, but it surely had much to do with his habit of calling friends for parties and banquets, where after just a few cups, he’d shamelessly cling to Jiang Chen in public, babbling “Tiantian” and “Little Sweet Ginger.”
He had been so foolish in his youth.
Something so obvious with a bit of thought—Jiang Immortal Lord was so proud and unyielding that, to avoid being looked down on, he’d gritted his teeth and gone from illiterate to topping both literary and martial exams at Xiao Xue Tower in just a year. What kind of temperament was that?
Yet he’d been tangled up by a playboy like him, cornered anytime, anywhere, with grand public confessions of love.
Zhao Lixuan had been utterly shameless back then, but Jiang Immortal Lord had shame!
As a result, just for being liked by him, Jiang Chen had endured behind-the-scenes mockery like “climbing dragons and attaching to phoenixes” or “a lowly sparrow coveting noble branches,” even being labeled “I thought that Jiang Chen was a steadfast pine from humble roots, but turns out he’s just another social climber trading on his looks!”
Sigh.
Fortunately, all that was in the past.
Now, Jiang Immortal Lord lived more freely and sharply than anyone, no longer caring about rumors or gossip.
Thus the past died like yesterday; henceforth, their paths diverged across vast distances.
It was good this way—he could finally rest easy. Even if they were separated by realms with no further contact in the years ahead, they could be like stars reflecting each other across the night sky, each illuminating their own domain. He was sure he’d still hear of Jiang Immortal Lord’s resounding fame in many places.
Zhao Lixuan truly believed this.
So when he was still basking in that relaxed afterglow, only to be abruptly yanked from sleep by a powerful, almost brutish surge of demon power flooding his meridians, he was utterly bewildered.
His vision blurred, the surroundings pitch-black and dim—it was still the dead of night.
Jiang Immortal Lord’s demon power roared through him like crashing waves, forcibly dispelling all drunkenness. His mind cleared from chaos to perfect clarity, like the tide receding.
Before his eyes…
Jiang Immortal Lord was in his Pear Flower Water Pavilion in the middle of the night, for some reason.
He was half-kneeling by the bed, one hand clamped vise-like on Zhao Lixuan’s wrist, knuckles whitening from the force, veins stark against his pale skin.
Those ink-black eyes churned like dark tides, as if something long imprisoned was frantically breaking free.
“What… is this.”
Each word was crushed out through clenched teeth.
Zhao Lixuan followed his gaze to his own wrist. There, on his skin, a faint golden contract pattern had emerged, glowing fiercely in the thick darkness.
“Answer me.” Jiang Chen’s voice was terrifyingly hoarse.
His grip was iron-tight, his expression savage, barely containing emotions on the brink of losing control.
“You… on your wrist… what is this?”
…
What.
This was…
Zhao Lixuan blanked for a moment, then broke out in cold sweat. In that instant, he truly understood what it meant to reap what you sow.
These past days, he’d been gnawed by sudden memories.
But none hit like this unexpected blow—the harshest, most bitter strike of his life.
The golden pattern blazed mockingly, ridiculing his earlier self-assurances about “yesterday’s death” and “distant reflections.”
He drew a deep breath. The moonlight outside turned stark and blinding, leaving him nowhere to hide.
What was this?
Of course… a Marriage Contract.
Everyone in the Immortal Realm recognized one—no mistaking it.
This was a Marriage Contract.
Between him… and Jiang Immortal Lord.
Ha.
Absurd? Utterly. He and Jiang Chen had never shared mutual love—how could this exist?
But it did! Who told him to commit so many unforgivable idiocies back then? This was the boldest stroke among them!!!
It had happened after they’d parted.
Jiang Chen hadn’t just left—he’d gone to the Demon Bright, never to be seen again. Powerless to stop him and utterly heartbroken, Zhao Lixuan had grasped at straws: tying Red Cords under full moons, placing hibiscus stones under pillows to secure love—every crooked spell. He’d even sought out charlatans promising “guaranteed reconciliation, money back if it fails.”
He’d found this Marriage Contract ritual in some obscure book.
It claimed that with both parties’ Heart’s Blood—even without mutual affection—plus millennial profound ice, thousand-year cinnabar, three drops of morning dew, seven strands of evening glow, one faced the four cardinal directions at midnight, chanted the incantation “Heaven won’t take, earth won’t claim; this forced melon, I’ll wrench anyway” three times, and voila—a contract ignoring all feelings.
Absurd on its face.
But in his frenzy, he’d tried every scam and superstition—what was one more?
Besides, he had Jiang Chen’s Heart’s Blood on hand.
It was originally for Jiang Chen’s sister, Jiang Fu, who was frail from youth and needed a drop monthly for nourishment.
But Jiang Chen had his own chill syndrome, and Zhao Lixuan pitied him carving out blood each month. He’d scoured for an immortal vial to preserve it indefinitely.
Later, when the siblings went to the Demon Bright, he still had half a vial left.
He couldn’t recall which moonlit night, but he’d followed the book’s instructions to the letter, mixing their Heart’s Blood. It was just madness, venting obsession.
Who’d have thought golden light flashed, and the contract formed?
When it actually worked, he was stunned, at a loss.
No mutual love, just blood and a curse—how? Utter nonsense. If anyone could contract their crush with Heart’s Blood, the Immortal Realm would descend into chaos!
Yet the contract existed.
By then, Jiang Chen had been in the Demon Bright for some time.
Zhao Lixuan had considered confessing by letter… but how? “Dear Little Jiang, I accidentally used dark magic with your Heart’s Blood to force a Marriage Contract on us”?
No one could say that—he sure couldn’t!
In the end, he threw caution to the wind. The contract stayed hidden unless actively invoked or triggered by deep emotion or external interference.
So, as long as he kept mum, Jiang Chen wouldn’t know. Unless one day he found true love…
Sigh. He’d deal with the fallout then.
For now, play dumb and limp along!
But soon after, the Unstained Immortal Realm fell to Demon Clan invasion, the world upended, old friends scattered. Years flew by, seas turned to mulberry fields.
So much so that he’d…
Forgotten this blunder entirely!
Even as Jiang Chen gripped his wrist and demanded answers moments ago, he’d stared blankly at the contract.
Wondering how a self-respecting man like him ended up with this.
Now it all came rushing back!
…
Too late.
Far too late! How could he… after twenty years, with Jiang Immortal Lord pinning him down, only then remember?
The situation was disastrous; all explanations rang hollow.
And as if on cue, the sky outside cracked with lightning, thunder rumbling through clouds, a torrential downpour shattering like jade beads.
Flickering lightning made Jiang Chen’s peerlessly handsome face look even more menacing. He stared with poison-laced eyes, churning with resentment thick enough to drown a man.
Zhao Lixuan closed his eyes, forcing calm.
When he opened them, his gaze held unprecedented sincerity: “Jiang Immortal Lord, this matter—my fault, entirely mine, a thousand wrongs and ten thousand errors.”
“But… I never meant to deceive you intentionally.”
“It’s just…”
Thunder crashed outside again. Meeting Jiang Chen’s piercing stare, his throat bobbed with effort.
All this time, words he should have said stayed buried. He’d thought they could fade unspoken, never to resurface.
But at last… sigh. On this final day before parting, amid endless night and pouring rain, under vast heaven and earth, nowhere to hide.
“Jiang Immortal Lord, all those mortal realm days… I’ve always avoided speaking of them because… I was young and reckless then. My actions shame me to this day; I regret them deeply.”
“But please, Immortal Lord, rest assured.”
“I truly harbor no improper thoughts toward you now. Not a shred.”
“If I could redo the past, I’d have stayed far away from the start, given you peace, never entangled you.”
“…”
Rain battered the windows madly.
The night pearls dimmed, light murky. Zhao Lixuan finished.
He slowly raised his eyes, only to see Jiang Chen’s face still icy under the lamp, black pupils darker, seeming even more hateful than before. His clenched jaw and faintly reddened eye corners betrayed fierce restraint.
“…”
Of course.
The past couldn’t be brushed off with a few words.
Even if they’d fought side by side lately, birthing some mutual respect, it paled against Jiang Chen suddenly discovering he’d secretly bound them in a twenty-year Marriage Contract.
How could he not despise this persistent ghost and rage?
In the end, it was all his fault.
Mere regrets were meaningless. Zhao Lixuan paused, then offered sincerity anew:
“Jiang Immortal Lord, I know I owe you much from back then. How about this?”
“My Zhao Clan has some wealth in the mortal realm—estates, treasures aplenty. Even cities, I could manage.”
“Of course, I know you lack for nothing now. Gold, spirit stones, artifacts—you have them all. If those don’t appeal, I have rare cultivation manuals, especially a unique sword manual, one of a kind…”
A cold scoff cut him off.
Emotions surged like blades in Jiang Chen’s black eyes; he itched to carve up this man itemizing compensations.
He’d been waiting for exactly this—how many more cutting barbs this “sincere” face could spit. Immortal Lord Li Xuan never disappointed!
Ha.
He shot to his feet, robes slicing a sharp arc through the humid air.
Leave. He should have left long ago.
Never come, never seek this “last time.”
He’d known all along—from the past decade’s absence, the panicked flight at Moon Hunt. What was he waiting for?
Why cling to vain hopes, repeatedly confirming the vanished affection?
Jiang Linyuan, it’s because you still harbor delusions…
Because you’re shamefully hoping. That’s why you witness his indifference firsthand, hear him dismiss the past, touch his contract with another!
Then he claims regret.
Offers gold, lands, shops, jewels as “compensation”! Calls you his pampered secret lover, and—
Enough, Jiang Chen?
How many more times must you see, how many deaths of the heart?
Walk away.
Reason urged him up, but invisible chains locked his steps. His body decided first—
With a muffled thud, Zhao Lixuan was slammed back onto the bed. Bedding tangled from the force; several large goose pillows tumbled to the floor.
“How… does he treat you.”
Amid rolling thunder, Jiang Chen’s voice rasped terrifyingly. “Does he treat you well?”
“If it’s true, then he treats you well.”
“These past days… where has he been?”
He leaned in close, their noses nearly touching, his warm breath mingling with icy despair: “During the Moon Hunt perilous realm, why… wasn’t he… by your side?”
Thunder crashed outside the window, the oppressive dampness baring its fangs like a vengeful ghost breaking free from its cage—only to be drowned out by the relentless patter of wind-driven rain.
Zhao Lixuan hadn’t actually caught what he was saying in those fragmented murmurs. He was just caught off guard, pinned in place, staring blankly into the madness and shadows swirling in the Jiang Immortal Lord’s eyes—emotions he couldn’t decipher.
He had always known that little Jiang was different from ordinary people, a bit twisted and peculiar…
He got upset easily, turned gloomy at the drop of a hat. Smiles were rare. He always twisted others’ good intentions through the most malicious lens, reading dark motives into them.
So Zhao Lixuan wasn’t surprised by the sudden anger.
He just didn’t understand why it had escalated to this extent.
The Marriage Contract was his fault—he owned that. He’d even sincerely offered compensation. Even if Jiang Chen didn’t care for it, the contract could be dissolved as long as both parties consented.
Sure, taking up the slot of Jiang Immortal Lord’s first marriage was wrong, but most people in the Immortal Realm didn’t fuss over whether it was a first marriage or a third. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?
Yet Jiang Chen’s chest heaved violently, his breathing ragged. He actually started coughing from the sheer fury.
The coughs grew heavier with each one, grating harshly in the room.
At some point, the thunderstorm had passed, leaving behind frosty chill and heavy dew, with only the intermittent drip of water from the eaves.
Seeing him cough so violently, Zhao Lixuan couldn’t help but give him a gentle push. He wanted to grab the loquat syrup that Senior Brother Rumuh had left behind last time, the bottle he hadn’t finished…
But it was just that—a single, very light push.
Truly, barely any force at all.
Yet Jiang Chen suddenly crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing heavily into his arms.
His body was frighteningly cold, and the faint glow of the night pearl washed over his face: pale as plain silk, his lips tinged with a sickly grayish-blue.
“???”
Zhao Lixuan panicked instantly. “Jiang Immortal Lord?”
“Cough…”
A muffled cough rumbled from deep in his chest. Then, dark red blood foam bubbled from those bloodless lips, trickling down his jaw and staining his collar with a glaring splash of crimson.
“………………”
Zhao Lixuan’s mind went blank, on the verge of exploding.
