Jin Ni clung to the doorframe, dawdling and reluctant to leave.
Mu Congyun noticed he still hadn’t left and naturally couldn’t just abandon him to go cultivate.
But asking why he hadn’t left yet would sound like he was shooing a guest away, so he could only stare at Jin Ni in silent confusion.
What else did he want?
If he didn’t speak up soon, Mu Congyun would go train.
However, his habitual expressionlessness made it difficult for Jin Ni to detect the faint trace of bewilderment in his eyes.
To Jin Ni, it simply seemed like the senior brother’s aura had grown even colder, his face stern and icy as he glared—as if he might draw his sword at any moment.
Though the senior brother was undeniably handsome, not everyone could endure that frosty gaze.
Jin Ni immediately felt the pressure.
He didn’t dare act too boldly in front of the senior brother, so his eyes darted around until they landed on Shen Qi.
Seizing the opportunity, he blurted, “I need to talk to Shen Qi about something!”
Shen Qi, who had just been named: ?
He slowly turned his head and fixed Jin Ni with a sinister stare.
Compared to the senior brother, Jin Ni naturally found Shen Qi much easier to handle.
Completely ignoring Shen Qi’s dark expression, he forced his way over with a buddy-buddy attitude and plopped down beside him.
Shen Qi had originally been sitting on a decorative rock in the corridor.
The stone wasn’t particularly large—comfortable enough for one person, but with Jin Ni squeezing in, it became cramped and crowded.
Especially when Jin Ni reached out to sling an arm over his shoulder.
Shen Qi finally had enough and stood up abruptly, pressing his palm firmly against the rock with full force.
The fragile decorative stone shattered instantly. Jin Ni, who had been sitting firmly, was caught off guard and landed hard on his backside. He scrambled up, covered in dust.
Suppressing the smirk tugging at his lips, Shen Qi turned to Mu Congyun and tattled, “He broke your rock.”
Then he leveled an accusatory glare at Jin Ni.
Jin Ni: “…”
Since when did this little tail have so much to say?!
Completely oblivious to Shen Qi’s sabotage, he assumed the rock had been shoddily made.
Flushing red, he muttered to Mu Congyun, “Those Yutang cheapskates must’ve skimped on materials again! I’ll go find Second Senior Sister and have her give them a piece of my mind!”
Without waiting for Mu Congyun’s response, he bolted like his pants were on fire.
He probably wouldn’t dare show his face at Moonlight Hidden Heron for a while.
Shen Qi let out an almost imperceptible scoff.
With Jin Ni gone, Mu Congyun didn’t bother with the broken stone.
He handed Shen Qi a storage pouch.
“Go pick a room. If you need anything else, let your second senior sister know.”
Shen Qi took it with interest and glanced inside.
Aside from daily necessities, it contained disciple robes, spirit stones, and some loose silver for mundane expenses.
Realizing Mu Congyun was now itching for solitude, Shen Qi didn’t push his luck.
He pocketed the pouch and went to choose a room.
After making a show of browsing the options, he deliberately picked the one next to Mu Congyun’s.
When Mu Congyun returned from training, he discovered he had a new neighbor.
“…..”
He stood outside Shen Qi’s door, lips parting as if to say something, but in the end, he remained silent and retreated into his own room.
Fine. If he wanted to live there, so be it.
Meanwhile, Shen Qi sensed someone lingering at his door.
Without turning around, he smirked mischievously.
Twisting the wooden bracelet on his wrist, he flicked the two birds carved into it-now looking rather bald-and murmured to himself, “That dumb rabbit only seems clever.”
He was ridiculously easy to mess with.
At least it made these dull days a little more entertaining.
*
That night, Shen Qi stayed in the room next to Mu Congyun’s.
Given his cultivation level, he no longer needed sleep to rest.
However, since it was his first day at Xuanling and Xie Cifeng had already issued that warning, he suspected Xie Cifeng might be keeping a close watch on him.
Not wanting to act rashly, he chose to cultivate in his room instead.
The foul energy circulated through his meridians like countless blades slicing through them.
Shen Qi sat cross-legged, blood seeping from the corners of his lips, yet his expression remained unflinching.
After a long while, he opened his eyes, his body shrouded in a faint gray mist.
Only when the mist was fully absorbed did he rise to his feet.
Standing by the window, he gazed at the cold moon overhead, his expression grim.
The pain from channeling the foul energy was nothing to him, but ever since his rebirth, his cultivation sessions often dredged up those loathsome memories of the past.
Those rotting, stinking memories had become inner demons, entangling him and preventing any further progress.
Shen Qi stared into the distance and murmured to himself, “If I killed her now, perhaps these inner demons would vanish?”
His human pupils slowly narrowed into the vertical slits of a dragon’s, glinting with icy malice.
Killing intent burned within him. Shen Qi turned on his heel, ready to step out and commit murder.
But the moment he pushed open the door, he collided with Mu Congyun in the courtyard.
Both froze.
Shen Qi instantly shifted his demeanor, looking at him with feigned confusion.
“Shixiong, why aren’t you resting?”
“……”
Mu Congyun didn’t answer.
He couldn’t very well say, Because you’re sleeping next to me, and I’m not used to it.
“What about you?” he asked instead.
Shen Qi lowered his eyes, not bothering to conceal his dark mood.
“I had a nightmare,” he said, half-truthfully.
“About my mother. It frightened me.”
The young man stood there, bathed in the pale moonlight, shadows faintly tracing his face.
This was the first time he had mentioned his parents yet the words he used were “nightmare” and “frightened.”
Mu Congyun didn’t know what he had been through, so he could only offer comfort.
“It was just a dream. Don’t take it to heart.”
But what if the dream was real?
The question circled in his mind before being swallowed back down.
Shen Qi studied him with an odd look, his earlier urge to kill suddenly less pressing.
He recalled the illusion-how that woman had embraced her child despite the danger.
Her frail body had radiated an inexplicable sense of security.
Those two children probably hadn’t felt fear in their final moments, had they?
Children with mothers always had something to rely on.
He also remembered the embrace from earlier that day—one he hadn’t recoiled from, one that had even felt… comforting.
A strange longing stirred within him, crawling up his spine, urging him to reach out and hold the person before him, to experience that sensation again.
Shen Qi clenched his palm, suppressing the sudden surge of desire.
Maintaining his vulnerable, pitiful expression, he whispered, “It wasn’t a dream. It was real.”
He inched closer, watching Mu Congyun intently, reading the reluctance, hesitation, and restraint on his face.
He knew Mu Congyun disliked physical contact, that he was fighting the urge to pull away.
“Mother had other children,” he murmured, weaving truth with lies, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion.
“She abandoned me.”
Slowly, he rested his head against Mu Congyun’s shoulder.
Mu Congyun stiffened visibly.
He shifted as if to retreat but hesitated, staying in place.
Shen Qi curled his lips in triumph, his arms tightening around the other’s waist with increasing boldness.
Their bodies pressed close together, the exposed skin of their necks exchanging warmth.
That hollow, insatiable longing in his heart was finally satisfied.
Shen Qi half-closed his eyes to savor the sensation, releasing a soft sigh.
So this was how it felt.
Shortly after his birth, his mother had left Tianwaitian.
At that time, he was still just an egg in incubation, unaware of what this meant.
Born without protective heart scales and inherently deficient, his hatching had been more arduous than other dragon whelps.
He remained in his egg for a full century, and on the very day he finally broke free, his father abandoned him too.
Yet before his hatching, his father had held great expectations for him, believing he would be a once-in-a-century prodigy of the Zhulong clan, the first to lead their lineage out of Tianwaitian.
The Zhulong patriarch had numerous concubines and no shortage of children.
But Shen Qi was the only one carried by his father’s side daily even before hatching, incubated by the purest fire essence of their clan.
Perhaps because of this, he had developed a trace of spiritual awareness while still in the egg, faintly perceiving the outside world.
He knew that though he had no mother, he had a father who loved him doubly.
Afraid of making his father wait too long, he gathered strength day after day until he could finally break free.
But on that day of hatching, he not only lost his father but became the shame and laughingstock of the Zhongshan Zhulong clan.
He still remembered struggling out of his shell, crawling desperately toward his father, only to meet eyes suddenly turned cold-filled with disappointment and disgust.
The man whose hopes had been dashed wouldn’t even grant him a proper name, saying coldly, “So weak. If you manage to survive, that’s enough. Henceforth, you shall be called Changming.”
Changming. Yin Changming.
A name that branded him with humiliation for seventeen years.
“Father has many children. He found me useless and didn’t like me.”
Coldness crept into his eyes as Shen Qi hid his face, continuing his quiet confession.
Immersed in the wondrous sensation of physical contact, he held the other tightly, giving Mu Congyun no chance to escape.
His nose filled with the crisp scent of grass and trees-Mu Congyun’s unique fragrance.
Yet instead of repelling him, it somehow intoxicated him.
“They thought I didn’t know, but I remember everything.”
Dark tides churned in Shen Qi’s eyes, yet his movements remained gentle, brimming with dependence.
He even buried his face in the crook of Mu Congyun’s neck, nuzzling affectionately.
Like a small animal seeking security.
“Everyone dislikes me. Only shixiong is different.”
Mu Congyun’s heart softened.
He understood all of Shen Qi’s hesitations and insecurities because he had experienced them himself.
And precisely because he understood, he was always more tolerant toward Shen Qi.
He exhaled slowly, no longer resisting the embrace, and somewhat awkwardly returned it, gently patting Shen Qi’s back.
Even his voice unconsciously softened: “It won’t be like that anymore.”
Shen Qi gave a quiet “mm” and held him tighter.
The embrace lasted a long time, until the crescent moon was obscured by clouds, when Mu Congyun finally had to move and pat his shoulder: “Alright, time to rest.”
He almost suspected Shen Qi had fallen asleep.
Fortunately, Shen Qi hadn’t actually drifted off and released his hold upon hearing this.
Freed from restraints, Mu Congyun felt much lighter.
Seeing Shen Qi still standing there motionless, he pointed to the room and urged, “Go rest quickly.”
Shen Qi was still savoring the embrace from earlier.
For the first time, he discovered that such intimate physical contact could be so delightfully addictive.
His eyes gleaming with an odd light, he scrutinized the person before him once more, formulating new plans.
Suppressing the urge to curl his lips into a smile and hiding all malice, he spoke in a tone Mu Congyun could never refuse: “I’m scared alone. Can I sleep with you, senior brother?”