Volume Three: Not Following the Carefree Path, Chapter Ninety-Seven
His hands were large and warm, and whenever he held her, it felt as if the entire world was wrapped around her. A gentle warmth blossomed deep within her heart, filling her with an unshakable sense of peace.
“Huai Gui?”
“I’m here.”
“Do you have another name?” She hesitated to call him that—it felt too ordinary, like calling him by a name anyone might use.
Did he, in his heart, see himself as no different from others?
The young man’s voice faltered, then trembled slightly, yet carried a tenderness so profound it seemed to drown out everything else. “Yes, I do. A Yuan.”
“A Yuan? Which Yuan?”
He chuckled softly. “‘Is it the fleeting life that falls into the nine abysses?’ That Yuan.”
She smiled, teasing, “You must have fallen into the Abyss of Fleeting Life to have such a mindset.”
He said nothing at first, then after a long pause, replied, “Perhaps.”
But why did his tone sound so melancholy?
“A Yuan.”
He was momentarily stunned.
“…Hey.”
“A Yuan.”
“I’m here.”
“A Yuan… will you always be here?”
“I will.”
As long as he was here, that was enough.
“A Jin, let’s stay like this forever, okay?”
Jin Li smiled softly, nodding. “Alright.”
The young man gently pulled her into his embrace, burying his face in her neck. His voice began to tremble, and his body shook slightly.
Whether it was excitement or joy, she could not tell.
His voice quivered, “A Jin, your eyes will get better. They will, I promise. We will be fine.”
Jin Li lifted her hand to stroke his back gently. “Yes, they will.”
His care was meticulous beyond measure. Whether in daily routines or meals, he seemed to intuitively know her preferences, even the little habits she was unaware of herself.
For example: Jin Li liked to drink jasmine tea after lunch, then take a short nap and, upon waking, bask in the sunlight in the courtyard, preferring to drink plain tea at that hour.
She enjoyed waking up to the scent of lotus flowers by the window, their fragrance gently filling the room.
She disliked incense but had a fondness for cedarwood scent—the same scent lingering on the young man’s clothes—along with a faint hint of mint.
For breakfast, she liked peach blossom porridge and steamed buns.
Her clothes were best suited to the seasons.
She disliked jewels, gemstones, and ostentatious hairpins.
Yet the simpler her attire, the more beautiful she appeared.
Perhaps, for her, sometimes foregoing grandeur was a way to avoid conflict, fewer enemies, and less hostility.
One afternoon, Geng Yuan brought her to bask in the sun. The sunlight was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled through the forest, yet she could not hear the sound of bamboo leaves.
“A Yuan, where is this? Isn’t it the Bamboo Garden?”
“This is not the Bamboo Garden; it’s the Listening Rain Pavilion. It’s perfect for healing.”
Jin Li touched the white silk covering her eyes. After half a month of rest, her eyes had significantly improved.
Yet at midnight, she could still faintly hear the young man’s restrained cough.
“Where did you go that rainy night?”
“You were looking for me?”
“No, but I felt you weren’t there that night.”
He exhaled lightly. “That night, I went to the Bamboo Garden to gather medicine. The rain grew heavier, so I went back to change clothes.”
“Did you catch a chill?”
He took her hand and sat down, his voice gentle. “No, I’m feeling well.”
Jin Li harbored a selfish hope—that such days might last a little longer.
“A Yuan.”
“I’m here.”
“I want to see the sunlight.”
He hesitated briefly, then untied the silk from her eyes.
As the white light dimmed, everything outside grew increasingly bright. She opened her misty eyes to find everything around her blurred—both people and objects.
Impatient, she tried to see more clearly, but he held her hand firmly.
“Don’t rush. Take your time.”
She saw his face—blurred, yet with the handsome contours she remembered. She lifted her hand to touch it.
Gradually, her vision sharpened, revealing the young man’s familiar countenance.
Still just as she recalled.
“A Jin?”
His eyes searched hers tentatively. Overwhelmed with joy, she exclaimed, “A Yuan, A Yuan, I can see clearly! I can see clearly!”
He was startled at first, then his happiness overflowed—his excitement hundreds of times greater than hers.
“Really? Really?”
“Really! Truly!”
She rose and ran about the courtyard, with Geng Yuan trailing behind her carefully like a protective elder brother, afraid she might fall.
She pointed excitedly at the pear blossoms. “Look, pear blossoms!”
“That’s a lotus flower.”
Watching her joyful expression, his eyes curved into a smile. “Be careful.”
She approached the water basin and looked into her own eyes.
Clearer, brighter, and even more beautiful than before.
She had feared the demonic corruption would damage her eyes, but instead, they had healed beyond expectation.
“A Yuan.”
She turned to see him, hands behind his back, eyes smiling warmly.
“I’m here.”
“My eyes are really better.”
“Yes, truly better.”
Jin Li smiled and stretched lazily. “Resting for days is unbearably boring.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Rest is done. Naturally, I must find out the whereabouts of the shark demon.”
He stopped her, worry shadowing his gaze. “A Jin, your wounds just healed. You cannot do that.”
“What are you afraid of? I’m much better now, really. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“But I can’t bear to let you go.”
Jin Li smiled teasingly, stepping close to him, caressing his chin. “If you can’t bear it, then come with me.”
“All right.”
He agreed without hesitation.
Jin Li was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. “Promise me one thing—don’t try to be strong, okay?”
“Mm.”
He promised.
They bade farewell to Li Qingmo and left Mount Jiuyi.
But descending the mountain this time was unlike before.
The mortal world was engulfed in flames of war and plagued by disease, as if some monstrous demon had descended upon the land.
“What’s happened?” she murmured, worry deep in her eyes.
Behind her, the young man’s gaze was dark and heavy with concern as he watched her mounted figure.
“A Yuan, let’s go to Lianchuan.”
It took half a day by immortal means to travel from Mount Jiuyi to Lianchuan.
Now it was afternoon, so they would arrive in the dead of night.
Jin Li’s heart brimmed with anxiety. He gently wrapped his arms around her, soothing, “A Jin, don’t be afraid. I’m here with you.”
Though comfort from someone younger felt strange, it carried a unique charm. As a respected lady ruler, being protected and comforted now made her cheeks flush with shyness.
She smiled. “You brat, how old are you, yet you comfort me like this?”
She turned, their eyes meeting.
In his dark pupils shimmered stars. His expression was resolute.
“It will be so.”
No matter what, even if it happened again, I would protect you.
Jin Li’s smile softened. She had initially only sought someone to dispel her boredom, but after several encounters, growing familiarity, and his care for her recovering eyes, she realized the young man’s determination was astonishing.
At first, she thought he was solely devoted to the path of cultivation, but in the end, he was not.
Those who knew her eye condition usually treated it discreetly, letting the matter fade and moving on, yet he did not.
That was rather rare.
“A Yuan, I think… I’ve begun to like you.”
She whispered to herself, unsure if he heard.
The cloud boat sailed through layers of white clouds, the stars brushing across her fingertips.
In an instant, the image of the young man in his celestial robes appeared in her mind.
Moon-white ribbons fluttered at his waist, the white fortune spirit official’s headdress atop his head, golden silk tassels trailing over his shoulders, swaying gently in the breeze.
His smile was like a bright moon cradling her, turning back to reach out his hand.
“Tian Yu.”
Suddenly, the vision vanished.
Jin Li was stunned. Was it a dream? Or a memory?
“A Jin, we’ve reached the Illusory Sea.”
The Illusory Sea was once a place of unparalleled beauty; it was the only sea within the Four Seas whose waters shimmered like clouds and rosy sunset hues.
Legend said the flickering lights on its surface were the fairy dust of true gods.
Whether that was true, no one knew—it harkened back to the era of the Great Wilderness.
If the tale was true, then what she had just seen might have been an apparition of a true god.
He draped a cloak over her shoulders. “It’s cold at night. Keep warm.”
“I’ve noticed you seem to know me very well—my likes, my habits, even the little quirks I don’t know myself.”
He looked at her calmly. “A Jin, do you believe in past lives and reincarnation?”
Leaning against the railing of the cloud boat, watching the clouds roll by, she said, “I never believed in such things.”
“But I do.”
She turned to him. His eyes bore sorrow and deep yearning, mingled with an indescribable love.
“Once, I heard a story. Would you like to hear it?”
“The journey’s dull anyway. Tell me.”
He inhaled deeply, his gaze drifting to the distant stars, his expression filled with endless grief, as if recalling the past.
He began softly, “Once, in the South Sea, there was a merman who witnessed his entire tribe slaughtered. He knew the truth behind their demise and sought justice—praying to gods and buddhas—but was only met with rejection and closed doors. Nearly giving up, in his youth, a fairy gave him hope. So he chose another path. If all the gods and buddhas in the sky could not help, he would take matters into his own hands. But… he was wrong. That thought alone brought him unbearable pain and deep regret.”
His hand slowly withdrew, his head bowed, his voice heavy with anguish as if speaking not of another, but of himself.
“That day, the lotus flowers bloomed brilliantly, the reefs glittered. He planned to use the divine being residing there, and through cunning, finally caught the god’s attention and stayed. He served with his beauty—but how long can such a game last?”
He smiled bitterly. “He tried every means—despicable, vile, clumsy—on that deity. Yet each time, he avoided confronting his own feelings. He had fallen for the god, which was undoubtedly terrible news—a calamity for him. So his actions grew crueler. Knowing the god loved the people, he destroyed them; knowing the god despised betrayal, he betrayed her, deceived her, and nearly sought her life.”
At these words, his voice trembled, perhaps from overwhelming sorrow.
“He even thought that once his plan succeeded, he would take the god away, hide her forever so no one else could find her. But just one step short—just one step—and everything changed. The god left, completely departing his life, as if she had never been there. He panicked and searched tirelessly across the six realms and four continents to find her, only to hear news of her demise…”
“That god… she died?” Jin Li asked quietly.