He’d long felt that his place in Su Lingxi’s heart was at risk.
Now was the perfect time to badmouth.
“You guys have traveled together so long… but people are saying, he uses all kinds of dark arts. They hurt others without helping himself. He also doesn’t get along with people from the academy.”
By the campfire, Su Lingxi kicked him and said, annoyed, “Don’t repeat what others say.”
“I’m just being honest.”
Yu Lin’an shrank his leg back pitifully.
“Anyway, Cangwu’s closing soon.”
Two days later, Ye Zhuxu appeared at the end of a narrow path.
He seemed to have waited a while.
When he saw Su Lingxi’s eyes flicker slightly, he pointed to the other side of the road, farther ahead, and asked, “Still want to fight?”
Well, since they were here, of course they’d fight.
A step down offered—might as well take it.
Su Lingxi ditched Yu Lin’an and told him, “If you want someone to kill you, go find Tian Shuang or Yuan Yin. Don’t go to Zhang Jin. Even if you do, it’s useless—he won’t help you.”
She herself didn’t go to Zhang Jin either.
She marked her map, choosing a longer route instead.
Ye Zhuxu glanced at it and asked the question Yu Lin’an didn’t finish:
“Why not go to him?”
His finger traced lightly over the map.
“Soul-capturing magic—it’s easier to handle.”
“Let it go,” Su Lingxi said.
That’s how it had always been.
Whether they argued or fought, no matter who was right or wrong, things would just be left unresolved.
Otherwise, their already fragile relationship couldn’t last.
She added, “He’s claiming the title of ‘Twelve Sorcerers’ to celebrate his wedding. Don’t underestimate the power of a hundred-year-old tree blooming for love.”
Only in the last two months did Su Lingxi begin to learn a few things.
It was nearly impossible to get Ye Zhuxu to talk about his past.
In over a year, he’d never once mentioned where he came from, what academy he studied at, who taught him all his bizarre techniques.
She guessed why he only acknowledged one mentor, and had only one friend.
Everyone has family, mentors, and friends.
People seek warmth.
But not everyone is lucky enough to have a place to return to.
Some are wounded by those they loved, left near death, never able to trust again.
But… sometimes life is too dull, too meaningless. So one might say to themselves—make a friend, spend some time, give some effort.
Get a predictable ending.
Then scoff and say, “See? They’re all the same.”
Still, Ye Zhuxu only had the patience to play that kind of game once.
Because the process disgusted him.
After all that time, Su Lingxi still didn’t know where in Fuyu he lived—sea, island, or city?
Which sea? Which city?
Sometimes, she thought he was actually very cautious, had strong instincts, knew how to protect himself.
He fought fiercely, yet trusted the obviously malicious.
But he wouldn’t tell her anything concrete—wouldn’t dare to be her friend.
He dared approach the fake—but fled from those with real kindness.
He could tell the difference!
Coward.
A stubborn, heart-wrenching coward.
In the blink of an eye, half a year had passed since they left Cangwu.
No matter how great their achievements had been inside, they were slowly fading.
People returned to their regular lives.
But Su Lingxi’s determination had been ignited.
Every night she stared at her incense, thinking hard.
She had an innate talent for incense arts, unmatched by anyone.
But finding someone in a sea of people with no token left behind—that was still too hard.
She kept thinking—if she did find him, she would secretly set a strong tracking spell, so no matter where or when, she could find him again.
Late one night, she finally caught him.
To find him, she even brought out an incense burner—something she never used.
The fragrant smoke filled the air. She used a great deal of power, crossed thousands of miles, and appeared in a quiet room.
At that moment, Ye Zhuxu was sitting by the window, listening to the rain, dozing with a book in his hands.
His long lashes drooped gently, casting a shadow in his eye sockets.
His breathing was soft.
He looked cold and withdrawn, but so beautiful—more than ever before.
And far more guarded.
Su Lingxi had never seen anyone be lazy by the window at home and still set up a barrier.
Almost the moment she arrived, he opened his eyes, and a dangerous aura instantly filled the room.
He looked over coldly.
When he saw it was her, Ye Zhuxu’s eyes showed unmistakable surprise, and he slowly closed them again.
Su Lingxi blinked at him, walked over, politely knocked with her knuckles, her eyes curving into a smile as she spoke openly and cheerfully:
“Brother, it wasn’t easy finding you. This place is way too far. Come back to Wushao City with me. I mean it.”
As naturally as saying, “The weather is great today,” without the slightest hesitation.
Ye Zhuxu looked at her deeply.
Su Lingxi didn’t blink.
Her eyes were round, and when she stayed still, her pupils held a reflection—you could see yourself in them, filled with an intense seriousness.
Ye Zhuxu didn’t know how long he had stood there, or how long his fingers had stubbornly pressed against the spine of the book, or how much force he used.
He only remembered that, in the end, he dismissed the barrier, pursed his lips, tossed the book aside, and followed her back to her home.
Being with Su Lingxi was so sweet, so beautiful—he realized that love could heal all wounds and pain.
It could make you forget the taste of blood and killing, soften all the thorns on your body, and remove all the bad parts of your nature.
It was clear that Wushao City was truly Su Lingxi’s domain.
The neighbors were plenty, and not a single one had anything bad to say about him.
People were surprised that Su Lingxi brought a young man home so early, but she was undeniably impressive—set in stone to become the next of the Twelve Sorcerers, and already studying more advanced arts under the High Priest.
When others asked, she never hid anything.
She nodded and said, “Yes, yes, I worked really hard to bring him back. Spent half a year finding him—it wasn’t easy at all. But when it’s love at first sight, things move fast.”
This left Zhang Jin, who had come to check on her, rolling his eyes and backing out of the door in exasperation.
She had a lot of friends, and word spread quickly—soon, everyone in Fuyu knew.
Maybe she felt it wasn’t right to be so undefined—one evening, fresh from bathing, her hair still wet, Su Lingxi rushed into Ye Zhuxu’s room.
She leaned on his desk, eyes blinking up at him.
He smiled, cupping her flushed cheeks, asking what was wrong.
Her long hair dried slowly in his palms.
By then, Ye Zhuxu hadn’t used a barrier at home in a long, long time.
Still, Su Lingxi knocked on the nonexistent barrier like she was tapping on the last fragile shell around him.
This time, she didn’t call him “brother.”
Wearing her cutest, sweetest expression, she said to him:
“Beautiful one, be with me.”
She knew the key to getting past his defenses:
“No matter what happens, I’ll never fall for someone else, I’ll never leave you.”
She moved closer, looking into his beautiful eyes:
“I mean it.”
***
Later.
After Su Lingxi left, for a long, long time, Ye Zhuxu would dream of that scene.
She would knock twice through the barrier—so straightforward, bold, and warm.
Even snowmen would melt under such a sun.
She would smile and reach out to him, saying:
“Brother, it wasn’t easy finding you… Come back to Wushao City with me.”
She would say: “I mean it.”
She would say: “No matter what happens, I’ll never fall for someone else. I’ll never leave you.”
At first, Ye Zhuxu would always look deeply at her, then part the barrier, reach out his hand, trying to hold her tightly and feel her warmth.
But every time, she would disappear.
All that remained was a broken barrier, a house he couldn’t escape, and the rotting scent of old wood that smelled like blood.
Again and again, he offered her his hand.
And again and again, he was thrown back into false, cruel dreams.
***
In the third year after Su Lingxi left, many things happened in Fuyu.
She even came back seeking medicine for the young emperor.
That year, Ye Zhuxu no longer immediately offered her his hand.
He listened to her words, then asked:
“Really?”
Su Lingxi smiled and nodded.
***
By the eighth year, Ye Zhuxu had changed—more extreme than ever.
The house was now cold and empty, with only him.
The scent of gardenias had long been scrubbed clean by time.
When he dreamed again, he no longer foolishly opened the barrier.
He just leaned silently to the side, waited for her to finish all her sweet, coaxing lies, and then looked up, replying one word at a time:
“Liar.”
***
By the twelfth year, Ye Zhuxu rarely dreamed of her.
Even if he did, her features were no longer clear—just a vague outline from the past.
That year, when she called him “Beautiful one,” he lost control.
He shattered the barrier with his bare hands.
The fragments sliced deep into his flesh like glass.
He gripped her chin tightly, forcing those innocent eyes to look straight at the ugly cracks in his hands, at the madness in his pupils.
He sneered coldly:
“Still think I’m beautiful?”
“Do any of your men have hands like these?”
“Have any of them been tortured by you like this—so much they’d rather die than live?”
***
By the thirteenth year after she left, Ye Zhuxu finally understood:
Love doesn’t ease pain. Love is far more painful than death.
This game called “love,” for him, had only one round—and it was long over.
In this dream, Ye Zhuxu’s eyes were hollow. He didn’t even call her a liar anymore.
Every time she finished speaking, he’d take a step back, hide his gloved hands in the dark, and reject her over and over again, his words cold and full of thorns:
“No.”
No.
He would never—never—believe that liar again.
***
Late at night in Chang’an, all teams were in formation and ready.
Su Lingxi was still working on her threadwork.
There was no more flesh on her fingers—just slender, clean bones, lined with sharp, clean edges.
Ye Zhuxu’s hand, hanging at his side, clenched slowly, very slowly.