Chapter 54: Side Story 2

Jiang Chen was slightly stunned.

As he pondered, Zhao Lixuan pulled out a rough clay bowl from behind him like a magician, uncovering the lid to release a thick sesame aroma mingled with milky fragrance. “And this—the sesame paste stewed milk from that shop at the end of the street. It’s run by the old grandma’s granddaughter-in-law now, but the taste is just like before.”

He scooped up a spoonful of the thick, rich paste and brought it to his mouth.

The gritty texture of toasted, ground sesame blended with the silky, tender milk custard. The warm, sweet creaminess slid down his throat, warming all the way to his perpetually cold stomach.

“Sweet…” he murmured softly. “Delicious.”

“Mm,” Zhao Lixuan’s eyes warmed with a smile as he reached out to ruffle Jiang Chen’s sleep-tousled ink-black hair. “Then eat more.”

…

Zhao Lixuan had naturally noticed that Jiang Chen often couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes he would wake and gaze at him beside him for long stretches, lost in a daze; other times, like those countless sleepless nights in the Demon Bright, he would quietly rise and sit alone under the courtyard eaves, staring blankly into the heavy night.

At first, Zhao Lixuan thought Little Jiang’s body hadn’t fully recovered, and his soul still needed mending.

Zhao Lixuan wasn’t in a hurry. He could wait patiently.

But time flowed on like a stream, and in the blink of an eye, they had spent nearly a year in the Mortal Realm.

His old wounds had mostly healed, and they had traveled hand in hand to many places: watching the star-river-like water lanterns floating across Wu City during the Lantern Festival, treading the endless verdant grasslands of Eastern Marsh in spring, standing side by side amid the sunset glow of the western desert to gaze at the solitary smoke over the long river.

Mortal fireworks, mountains and rivers through the seasons—they hadn’t missed a moment.

But soon enough, the one-year mark arrived. The laws separating the Three Realms grew firm: the Immortal Clan had to return to the Unstained Immortal Realm, the Demon Clan retreat to the Demon Realm, and the Mortal Realm would be free of immortals and demons once more, standing independent.

This journey through the mortal world had truly been a stolen dream of leisurely floating life, seized before the realms fully drifted apart.

In the end, the two left the Mortal Realm reluctantly and returned to the Unstained Immortal Realm.

Since his brother Zhao Lanze’s immortal body was being properly nurtured at the Fish Priest Office and might soon return to Pear Flower Water Pavilion, Zhao Lixuan moved out and settled with Jiang Chen into Maple Vine Cottage.

Who would have thought that moving to a place brimming with spiritual energy and drifting auspicious clouds would bring Jiang Chen’s insomnia roaring back?

That night, the moonlight blazed at its peak—a silver disc so full it bordered on perfection, its clear glow spilling down to illuminate the courtyard in crystalline transparency. The fiery maple vines lost their daytime blaze under the moon, turning to a serene, ink-dyed deep crimson.

Zhao Lixuan woke from shallow sleep to find the spot beside him empty. He rose, draped a robe over his shoulders, and stepped into the courtyard.

Jiang Chen sat beneath the most lush ancient maple tree, his back to the corridor building.

Moonlight filtered through the swaying branches and leaves, casting countless shifting light and shadows across his back.

Zhao Lixuan watched him quietly for a moment.

The good news was, after nearly a year of care, the man finally had some weight to him—holding him no longer felt bony, and his cheeks had faintly regained their former handsome contours.

The not-so-good news was, though he spoke more than before and occasionally voiced his attachment and unease directly, it still wasn’t enough.

He fetched an outer robe and walked over, gently draping it over Jiang Chen’s shoulders. “Nightmares again?”

The figure in his arms stiffened abruptly, then let out a soft “Mm,” like clutching a lifeline as he wrapped his arms around Zhao Lixuan’s waist, burying his face deep into the warmth of his abdomen. His voice came muffled: “I woke you up.”

“You didn’t wake me.” Zhao Lixuan sat beside him, gently stroking the back of his neck. “Next time you have a nightmare, you can wake me.”

“I’m different from you—I fall back asleep easily even after waking. Whatever demons or ghosts haunt your dreams, you can call me, tell me all about it.”

The night dew was chilling, his fingertips carrying a faint coolness.

Yet in the hazy moonlight, the eyes he turned toward Jiang Chen brimmed with lunar glow. “Little Jiang, back in the Mortal Realm…”

“That was your home turf. When you slipped out alone at night, I could tell myself you just needed time to recover.”

“But now, you’ve come home with me.”

He explained bit by bit: “If you’re still so uneasy and unhappy here, then it’s truly, completely my fault.”

“Are you trying to make me a failure of an immortal companion?”

He leaned in slightly with a smile. “Wouldn’t that make Immortal Lord Li Xuan a swindler lord? Dragging you from your homeland to marry into this utterly foreign Immortal Court, only to fail at giving you full love and security, leaving you restless and sleepless…”

Moonlight flowed, maple leaves rustled softly.

“No, it’s not…”

Jiang Chen shook his head in a panic. “You treat me so well, you’re so good to me… I’m doing great.”

Great. So happy. Absolutely true.

From the mornings and evenings in Loofah Courtyard to their later travels everywhere, every day felt like a beautiful illusion.

“I’m just afraid,” his voice dropped, hard to voice, “afraid that if I’m always this panicked and unsettled, failing to appreciate my happiness, you’ll get sick of me…”

So after waking in terror, he always hid alone until his heart steadied, the cold sweat dried, tucking away that skittish, startled look before quietly returning to his warm side.

Moonlight like flowing silk softly gilded Zhao Lixuan’s brows and eyes.

It illuminated the helplessness in them, and the faint ache of pity, all the clearer. He seemed to have much to say, but in the end, it dissolved into an indulgent sigh.

He stood, pulling the dazed Jiang Chen up with him, his palm warm as he broke into a smile. “Come on, let’s go back.”

“Since you can’t sleep anyway,” he tugged him along, “let’s head inside and discuss something truly important.”

Jiang Chen’s steps faltered.

Zhao Lixuan looked back, enunciating clearly: “Discuss our wedding ceremony.”

“…”

“What, isn’t this the grand wedding you’ve always dreamed of—ten-mile red procession, hall packed with guests, fine wine overflowing? Didn’t I promise you one?”

“Now that we’re back in the Unstained Immortal Realm, let’s hold it soon.”

“Announce it to the world tomorrow.”

“That way, with our Dao Companion Immortal Contract renewed, everyone will know we’re bound together from here on—sharing joys and sorrows, immortal essence linked. You won’t have to worry I’ll run off, living on the edge and eating unfounded jealousy every day.”

“…”

Jiang Chen gazed at him.

For the first time in this life, he felt enveloped in inconceivable gentleness.

Since he’d begun accepting himself again… those old wounds deep in his body, which surged coldly and sharply every deep night, were warmed, melted, soothed bit by bit by this gaze and these words.

His shell constantly felt sustained warmth, all cracks tenderly mended, leaving a near-luxurious peace and solidity.

And so, for the first time, that deepest-buried, hardest-to-release flicker of fear and sharp pain—buoyed by this unprecedented security—broke free of its chains, mustering courage to reach out.

“Lixuan.”

“Mm?”

“You… did you really, once…”

“Even if it was all my fault, even after twenty years, even with no schemes behind it… I’m still greedily convinced that even if I didn’t reply, even if I treated you that way, you should love me forever.”

He raised his eyes, tears shattering in them, stubborn and obsessive: “But you didn’t, so I wanted to die, hated you more than anyone… See, I’m this selfish, this hopeless.”

Zhao Lixuan froze.

He instinctively leaned closer, reaching out to touch.

But Jiang Chen recoiled half a step, as if scalded:

“You don’t like me anymore… And I’m no better now than back then. You’re just… cornered by my desperate clinging. You’re the type who always thinks of others, would be good to whoever you bonded with…”

By the end, he was choking up.

“Little Jiang.”

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear.” Someone mumbled.

Dead silence filled the courtyard, save for the wind whispering through the maple leaves.

“Jiang Chen, I did have a time… when I truly no longer liked you.”

Jiang Chen clenched his teeth.

Hearing it outright stung far worse than imagined. He stared in disbelief, swaying as he looked at Zhao Lixuan.

“You admitted it… See, you admitted it!”

He’d known all along, yet he was unraveling again.

He didn’t even know what he was aggrieved about—maybe clinging to a shred of hope. Utterly hopeless, defeated, he turned to leave. But as his foot moved, Zhao Lixuan hugged him tightly from behind.

“See, isn’t this good?” Zhao Lixuan’s voice sounded right by his ear. “Little Jiang, you’ve finally said a bit of what’s in your heart, haven’t you?”

“…”

“Actually, if you’re angry or hurt, you can fight with me, yell at me.”

Zhao Lixuan turned him around, cupping his chilled cheeks with both hands, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You can point at my nose and curse me out, demand ‘Just twenty years—how could you change your heart so easily?’ You can insist you’re right and I’m wrong, no need to hold back or bottle it up. You know my temper’s good, I don’t hold grudges—worst case, we trade barbs.”

His thumb gently wiped the dampness from Jiang Chen’s eyes.

“We can make up.”

“You see, in this world, which pair of true-hearted Immortal Couples never quarrels or argues?”

“Little Jiang, I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time too—you don’t need to tread on thin ice every day, afraid that a single disagreement will make me turn and leave. Instead, you should think—we were apart for a full twenty years, and after twists and turns, we still ended up together again. There was a time when… I truly didn’t love you anymore, but later, didn’t I fall for you all over again?”

“This might just be what they call ‘fated.’”

“…”

“Little Jiang, you actually know everything already.”

Jiang Chen was very sensitive.

He knew the distance when he didn’t love him, so naturally, he could see as clearly as fire the burning passion when his love reignited.

Yes, Jiang Chen knew.

He had always known that this affection had nothing to do with pity or sympathy. It was just that too long a wait had worn away his courage and confidence, making him afraid, for the moment, to believe he could be chosen and cherished so firmly once more.

Zhao Lixuan tightened his arms, pulling him deeper into his embrace. Fine, dense kisses fell on his trembling eyelids, his damp cheeks, and finally, with utmost care, pressed onto those tightly pursed lips.

“Ah…”

Just as the affection grew thicker and their kiss became hard to part from, Zhao Lixuan felt his feet lift off the ground. His whole body was swept up into a princess carry.

It happened again.

A hint of indulgence and helplessness flickered in his eyes.