Time flew by, so fast that Su Yun hardly felt it.
In the blink of an eye, the day of his promised dinner with Mo Qingqing had arrived.
For her, it was nothing—every second and minute was agonizing.
But for Mo Qingqing, those few days were an absolute eternity.
Without Su Yun by her side, she felt like she had lost her soul.
Food had no taste, sleep eluded her, she couldn’t even focus on cultivation.
It was as if all her energy and spirit had been drained away, leaving only endless emptiness and panic.
She felt like she had caught an incurable disease, and the root of it was Su Yun.
The longer she was separated from Su Yun, the stronger this feeling grew—so intense that she truly believed she would die without him.
Her mind was filled with Su Yun’s image, impossible to shake.
The cute way his eyes crinkled and his shallow dimples appeared when he smiled.
The faint, clean scent of grass and wood that clung to him, which lifted her spirits just by breathing it in.
His soft, timid voice calling her “Master,” which always easily tugged at her heartstrings.
Mo Qingqing now regretted everything to the extreme.
If only she had treated Su Yun better back then—given him a little more warmth, a little more respect, instead of treating him like a slave she could order around and vent her frustrations on at will.
If only she had cherished his dependence on her, instead of hurting him so recklessly.
If only she had realized her true feelings sooner, instead of only regretting after losing him…
But there are no “if onlys.”
The cruelest thing in the world is that there’s no turning back.
At the academy gate, the setting sun dyed the sky a warm orange-red.
Su Yun stood quietly waiting for Mo Qingqing.
He wore a simple yet exquisite white dress, its hem embroidered with delicate silver threads that made his skin look as pale as snow.
His figure was slender, and his face bore a faint, distant coldness.
Before long, a slightly disheveled figure hurried over.
It was Mo Qingqing.
She wore an expensive black dress, but it couldn’t hide her haggard appearance.
Her eyes were bloodshot, clearly from lack of sleep.
Her face was pale, devoid of any color, and her once exquisite makeup was smudged.
Her hair, though combed, was still somewhat messy.
She exuded an air of defeat, a far cry from the proud, cold, radiant Witch she used to be.
Su Yun was secretly startled to see her like this.
He hadn’t expected Mo Qingqing to become so haggard, nor had he imagined that this once lofty and arrogant Witch would be so unable to do without him.
Even Su Yun found it absurd how much influence he had over her.
The person who used to call the shots and push him around had now become this lost soul because of his departure.
But Su Yun’s face betrayed no emotion.
He still wore that unfamiliar coldness, his eyes calm and undisturbed, as if he had merely accepted an invitation from an ordinary classmate for a simple meal.
“Let’s go. You lead the way.”
Su Yun raised his fair, tender arm, his fingers slender and skin lustrous.
His tone was flat, betraying no emotion.
“Okay.”
Mo Qingqing answered almost immediately.
Her tense nerves instantly relaxed, and she let out a long sigh of relief.
She herself didn’t know why she felt relieved.
Maybe it was because Su Yun was willing to have dinner with her, which gave her a faint glimmer of hope.
Maybe because he hadn’t turned and walked away.
Or maybe just because he was willing to sit down and eat with her.
But her heart was still tight, so nervous that her palms were sweating, and she even held her breath.
She subconsciously reached out a hand, wanting to hold Su Yun and fly to the restaurant like she used to.
But the moment she raised her hand, she saw a faint Mana Halo ripple around Su Yun’s body.
He floated up gracefully, keeping a moderate distance from her.
Mo Qingqing’s outstretched hand froze in midair.
A flicker of shock passed through her eyes, and then she remembered with a dazed feeling.
Su Yun was already an Intermediate Mage too.
He was no longer the little slave who needed to depend on her, needed her protection.
He had his own power now, his own pride.
He no longer needed to revolve around her.
A pang of bitterness struck her heart.
Mo Qingqing silently withdrew her hand and flew toward the restaurant first.
Su Yun followed behind her.
They kept a distance—not too close, not too far—but it felt like an unbridgeable gap between them.
Soon, they arrived at the agreed place.
The storefront looked small, just an unremarkable little wooden hut.
But when they pushed open the door and stepped inside, they found a whole other world inside.
Individual small plazas were separated by invisible barriers.
Some barriers were transparent, allowing guests to see neighboring tables; others were completely sealed, offering excellent privacy with no view inside.
“Welcome—five gold coins per person. The meat and vegetables here all come from Rare Supply Areas across various worlds. To order, simply use the jade plate at your table.”
A sweet voice rang out.
A beautiful girl in a pink dress stood at the entrance, wearing a standard welcoming smile.
But upon closer inspection, one could see that her eyes were lifeless, and there was no soul fluctuation around her.
She was merely an empty shell constructed by Life Law, without self-awareness, only responsible for serving guests.
Mo Qingqing found a semi-enclosed plaza and sat down.
As soon as she was seated, she couldn’t help but speak, her tone ingratiating and cautious.
“So… what do you want to eat? My treat.”
“What to eat…”
Su Yun chuckled softly, his voice crisp but carrying a hint of elusive distance.
He sat down across from Mo Qingqing, crossing his fair, tender little legs and gently swinging the tips of his feet.
The pristine jade plate rested on his lap, its warm luster almost dimming in comparison to his glowing skin.
“I’m not that hungry. How about this, classmate Mo Qingqing… tell me, what did you want to see me about?”
Su Yun’s tone remained flat, but his gaze sharpened as he stared straight at Mo Qingqing, as if he could see through all her thoughts.
Actually, on the way here, he had already formulated a strategy.
If what he wanted was equality in their future relationship, if he wanted Mo Qingqing’s genuine respect, then wasn’t it reasonable to take back the grievances and harm he’d suffered as “interest”?
“Well…”
Mo Qingqing was flustered by Su Yun’s direct gaze.
Her eyes darted away, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.
She had thousands of words in her heart—countless apologies, endless regrets, and countless pleas begging Su Yun to come back to her.
But when it came time to speak, she didn’t know how to begin.
She could only stare at Su Yun, completely at a loss.
Su Yun chuckled again.
This time, there was a hint of understanding in his smile, as well as a trace of mockery.
He slowly set aside the cold facade he’d worn for so long, his eyes becoming frank and direct, without any pretense.
“I mean… could it be that you’ve suddenly realized… you actually care about me?”
It was an unguarded direct hit, like a sharp knife instantly cutting through the hypocritical calm between them.
“…Yes.”
Caught off guard by this sudden bluntness, Mo Qingqing’s mind went blank.
In her panic, she admitted it almost instinctively, her voice weak but carrying undeniable sincerity.
Su Yun didn’t pause.
He pressed on, his tone still calm but carrying an oppressive weight.
“You invited me to dinner… so I could come back to you, right?”
“Then…”
Mo Qingqing looked up, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes as she stared intently at Su Yun, waiting for his next words, waiting for him to nod, waiting for him to say “okay.”
But all she saw was Su Yun’s beautiful, clear eyes—now filled with nothing but indifference.
There was no movement in that gaze, no hesitation, only cold stillness, like a bottomless pool of freezing water, instantly extinguishing all the hope in her heart.
“What are you thinking?”
Su Yun’s voice carried a barely perceptible note of mockery as he gently shook his head.
“I won’t deny it—you did give me a new life. You took me, a homeless orphan, and gave me a place to stay and resources for cultivation.
“But what did you do?”
His voice gradually cooled, the indifference in his eyes replaced by a faint chill.
Those memories he had deliberately buried, those unbearable moments from the past, now surfaced one by one before his eyes.
“Pushing indescribable things into my body—I won’t even go into that.
“Every time, you made me suffer so much pain that I wished I were dead. You never once asked if I was willing.
“Because my body has Rapid Self-Healing, you destroyed it without any limits—I won’t mention that either.
“Whenever you were in a bad mood, you’d torment me without warning.
“When I begged you desperately… you never once let me off.
“I knelt before you, begging you to go easy on me, begging for a little gentleness. But you only got worse.”
Su Yun’s voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from anger, from grievance, from the indictment of the past.
Using his Psychic Power, Su Yun lifted a glass of water from the table and took a small sip.
The cool liquid slid down his throat, calming the emotions churning inside him.
Then he set the glass down, a bright smile spreading across his face, but the smile never reached his eyes.
“I won’t hate you. After all, you gave me the chance to live.
“But we’re even now.
“If you’re willing to continue as my ‘Master,’ I don’t mind. I’ll consider it repayment for preventing others from treating me as a slave.
“But as for me coming back to you…
“Don’t dream about it. Otherwise, I’ll think you’ve switched to the Dream Path and already reached Transcendent Rank.”
With that, Su Yun slowly stood up.
The hem of his white dress swayed gently with the movement, and the indifference in his eyes completely replaced all other emotions.
Without another glance at Mo Qingqing, he turned and walked away, his steps firm and without any hesitation.
His silhouette, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, looked utterly resolute.
He left Mo Qingqing alone, frozen in place.
Her face was as pale as paper, her body icy cold, as if all her strength had been drained, and she slumped into her chair.
Every word Su Yun had said was like a sharp dagger, stabbing straight into her heart, crushing the last shred of hope within her.
She opened her mouth, wanting to call out to him, wanting to say something, but found she couldn’t make a sound.
She could only watch helplessly as Su Yun’s back disappeared from sight.
Tears uncontrollably streamed down her face, blurring her vision.
So… he had remembered all that pain.
So… she really had no chance anymore.
So… her so-called concern and regret were utterly powerless in the face of the harm Su Yun had suffered.
Her heart felt like it had been torn in two.
The pain was so intense she could barely breathe.
Only endless regret and despair engulfed her, drowning her completely.
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