Chapter 91

Xuan Yang’s palm was as warm as ever. It gently brushed over Qixue’s cheek, trailing down his slender neck before clasping the small of his back and pulling him into his embrace.

“Don’t fear me.”

He took hold of Qixue’s hand and whispered in his ear, “After you left that day, I thought about many things. In retrospect, I was indeed in the wrong. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“A Xue, I came tonight to apologize to you. It was all my fault before. I shouldn’t have deceived you, nor forced you to return to Dali Mountain with me.”

“You can resent me, be angry with me. I’ll make it up to you. But I don’t want you to distance yourself from me from now on. If you ignore me, I’ll be heartbroken.”

Qixue was stunned. He hadn’t expected Xuan Yang to apologize to him. For a moment, he felt overwhelmed by the favor, even a bit at a loss: “Holy Monarch, there’s no need for you to apologize to me. I’ve never been angry with you. You’ve done so much for me—how could I blame you…”

Of course, he harbored no resentment toward Xuan Yang. Instead, because Xuan Yang was apologizing to him, for an instant, he felt a surge of intense guilt and remorse: The deity he worshipped was so supremely exalted—how could he make Him lower Himself for his sake?

“You might not blame me, but you certainly fear me.”

Xuan Yang said softly, “You haven’t paid your respects to me for a long time now. But just moments ago, not only did you bow to me, you even avoided my gaze. You’re distancing yourself from me.”

“I just…”

Qixue couldn’t deny it. He bit his lip and explained, “What I’m afraid of isn’t you, Holy Monarch, but that you’ll take me back to Dali Mountain tonight.”

“You don’t want to go back?” Xuan Yang asked. “Your friends in your homeland miss you very much. When they pay homage to me, they often mention your name, praying for your safe return. Don’t you miss them?”

Qixue’s lashes trembled: “I do miss them, but I still have unfinished business here. At the very least, I hope to see His Majesty recover with my own eyes…”

“But what if I told you that Helan Ji can never recover his health?”

Xuan Yang said slowly, “I don’t know what method Xie Shu used, but he somehow saved Helan Ji from the brink of death. Even so, he can extend Helan Ji’s life by at most ten years. After a decade, Helan Ji will still die without fail.”

“During these ten years, Helan Ji won’t have it easy. He’ll be tormented by the backlash of the Nightmare Art at every moment, wracked with excruciating pain throughout his body, until his flesh and bones rot away in agony. Are you sure you want to watch Helan Ji die in torment with your own eyes?”

Qixue’s face paled: “I can use the Dual Cultivation Technique to ease His Majesty’s pain…”

Xuan Yang shook his head slightly: “The Dual Cultivation Technique isn’t some miracle that brings the dead back to life or mends rotting flesh. It can’t save someone on the verge of death. A Xue, there’s nothing you can do. Rather than stay by his side in suffering, it’s better to return to the mountain with me early, prepare for Helan Ji’s reincarnation, and find him a good family to be reborn into.”

With that, he felt Qixue trembling in his arms. He sighed softly and held him even tighter: “I don’t mean to force you. If you insist on staying by his side, I won’t stop you.”

“No… Holy Monarch, I understand what you mean. I will return to Dali Mountain.”

Qixue gripped Xuan Yang’s hand tightly and lifted his teary eyes, pleading with him: “I just want to know… Holy Monarch, can you heal His Majesty’s body, make him completely recover, free from the Nightmare Art’s backlash forever?”

“…”

Xuan Yang fell silent for a moment before answering, “I can, but I have no reason to do so.”

“What if I offer myself in exchange?”

Qixue pulled away from Xuan Yang’s embrace and knelt before him, begging: “As long as Holy Monarch heals His Majesty, I’ll willingly become your divine consort, serving you wholeheartedly by your side from now on, never stepping half a foot out of Dali Mountain.”

Xuan Yang was momentarily taken aback. He looked down at Qixue: “A Xue, you…”

Qixue’s eyes brimmed with grief as he grasped one of Xuan Yang’s hands, imploring his mercy: “Holy Monarch… A Xue begs you. Please heal His Majesty.”

“I know I shouldn’t do this. Everything I have belongs to you, Holy Monarch. I have no right to bargain with you. But… but I have nothing to begin with. I only have myself. I have nothing else to offer in exchange…”

He grew incoherent. Though he had long envisioned trading himself for Helan Ji’s health, concern clouded his judgment. Upon hearing how dire Helan Ji’s condition was, he panicked, unsure how to sway Xuan Yang.

Xuan Yang quickly knelt halfway down to meet Qixue’s eyes levelly. He pressed a hand to Qixue’s lips: “A Xue, don’t say that about yourself. You’re not without anything—because you yourself are the most precious treasure in the world.”

“If you’re willing to marry me, of course I can restore Helan Ji’s health. And I promise you, I will protect his reincarnations for generation after generation. For me, this is a deal more than worthwhile.”

“But A Xue, are you truly willing to marry me for Helan Ji’s sake, never to step foot outside Dali Mountain again? If you’re hesitant, that’s fine. I can give you plenty of time to think it over. But once you decide, there’s no going back. I hope you consider it carefully.”

“I’ve thought it through. I won’t regret it. I’m willing to become Holy Monarch’s wife.”

Qixue took the initiative to lean into Xuan Yang’s arms, wrapping his arms around his waist. He had pondered this for a long time; his resolve was firm. Besides, how could he bear to see Helan Ji suffer in pain? No matter what, he would agree to Xuan Yang’s terms.

“Good.”

Xuan Yang hugged him back, a smile blooming on his lips: “Then from this moment on, A Xue is my fiancée. I will issue a divine decree to the entire Demon Clan, announcing our marriage. The Spirit Fox Clan, who oversee Dali Mountain, will prepare our wedding.”

“Wait, Holy Monarch…”

Qixue tugged at Xuan Yang’s sleeve, hesitating as he said, “A Xue has one more presumptuous request…”

Xuan Yang responded gently: “Go ahead.”

Qixue said softly, “I want to stay in Shangjing a bit longer, to accompany His Majesty more.”

“That’s fine. How long do you want to stay?” Xuan Yang asked.

Qixue carefully observed his expression: “I want to stay for five years…”

“Five years is too long. Two months. I’ll give you at most two months to be with Helan Ji.”

Xuan Yang said, “After two months, Helan Ji’s body will surely be healed. Once you confirm he’s fine, I’ll take you away.”

Two months later would mark exactly one year since Qixue had descended the mountain, in the season of early autumn.

Realizing his departure from here was so near, Qixue’s expression dimmed, his heart filled with bitterness as he replied, “Yes, Holy Monarch.”

Seeing him so saddened, Xuan Yang’s own expression darkened—not directed at Qixue.

“How can I not hate Helan Ji when you call me like this…”

His voice was very soft, like a murmur in a dream: “A Xue, I only hate how much you love Helan Ji. You’re willing to bear his children for him, willing to marry someone you don’t love, even give up your freedom to be confined in the mountains forever. For his mere few decades of life, you sacrifice everything. Is it really worth it?”

“I think it is.”

Qixue lowered his lashes. Despite the pain in his heart, he still revealed a sweet smile: “It’s truly worth it, because I love His Majesty.”

“You love him that much…”

Xuan Yang’s calm expression shattered. He seized Qixue’s wrist in a tight grip—the result of extreme restraint, or else he would have crushed the bones.

His hand trembled, the shudder originating from within himself.

He was the one who controlled Qixue, yet now he was the one shaking all over, not Qixue: “Can’t you love me the same way, A Xue? I beg you to love me, like you love Helan Ji. I want your love too.”

Qixue seemed a bit at a loss: “But… I’ve always loved you very much, Holy Monarch. From birth, I’ve admired you. For a hundred years, I’ve worshipped your god statue every day…”

“Not love for a deity.”

Xuan Yang pressed Qixue’s palm to his chest, letting him feel his racing heartbeat: “It’s the longing and adoration for the one in your heart, like how you love Helan Ji… like how I love you.”

He didn’t understand why he felt such pain. He clearly possessed Qixue now—Qixue was to be his wife, and they would be together forever: a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, like wind scattering fine sand, enough to erase all traces. The long passage of time would surely offset these brief months. He believed Qixue would one day forget Helan Ji.

…He would forget.

Would he really?

Xuan Yang wasn’t certain, for even a deity couldn’t fully control the human heart.

He held Qixue in the palm of his hand, yet felt Qixue was like that fine sand, slipping bit by bit through his fingers.

He had obtained Qixue, yet it seemed he was losing him.

Xuan Yang’s heartstrings tightened to their limit in an instant. Gone was his usual composure; instead, he hugged Qixue with near panic: “I want you to love me just as much.”

“I… I will love Holy Monarch.”

Qixue also reached out to hug Xuan Yang, but guilt filled his face. He knew he could never feel any affection for Xuan Yang. From the first time he worshipped Lady Shanyin’s statue, from the first time he dragged fruits to the altar with his tiny body, it was destined that he would see Xuan Yang only as the god he revered.

Xuan Yang would forever be his god—and only his god.

He promised Xuan Yang gently: “I will love Holy Monarch very, very much.”

“…”

Xuan Yang closed his eyes in heartache.

In the end, he still hadn’t heard those words.

But it was fine, fine… Qixue was his wife. They had infinite, eternal time ahead. One day, his wife would come to love him.