“……”
“You didn’t come here just to look, did you?”
“Then did you see me like this?”
Nan Shan said as she slipped one hand into his robes.
Ji Yue’s breathing became slightly erratic, and he quickly grabbed her wrist.
“Like this?”
Nan Shan took the chance to kiss him on the lips.
“……”
“Mm, what did you call me for?”
“You mustn’t…”
“But I can.”
The blanket quickly became a crumpled mess.
Ji Yue’s body grew more and more tense, until he finally gripped her hands tightly and flipped her beneath him before things went completely out of control.
Their positions reversed, eyes met, and both of them were breathing heavily.
“Nan Shan,” Ji Yue said hoarsely.
“Doing this is of no benefit to you.”
Nan Shan didn’t seem to hear him.
She simply stared intently at the hand that was holding her fingers.
After a long moment, she gave a couple of tugs.
Ji Yue paused and loosened his grip slightly.
She moved her fingers and interlocked them with his.
“Warm,” she murmured.
Ji Yue paused.
“What?”
“Your fingers. And your body. They’re warm,” Nan Shan still wasn’t looking at him.
“But I remember, the first time I touched you, you were cold.”
Ji Yue was silent for a long time before saying, “I’m cold by nature.”
He had only warmed his body to avoid frightening her.
Nan Shan gave a soft laugh and looked into his eyes for the first time.
Ji Yue was slightly moved, but still restrained as he tried to reason with her:
“From the moment I brought you back, you and I were already in a deadlock…”
Nan Shan propped herself up and pecked his lips.
Ji Yue froze, then tried to continue, though his voice was hoarse:
“The reason you care so much about me now is just because life on the island is dull. You need something to do…”
Nan Shan kissed him again.
“…But getting too close to me will only bring you harm. I’m already decayed, and you’re still new to this world. Someday, the skies will be vast, and the seas wide, but you—”
“You talk too much,” Nan Shan murmured, releasing him with reluctance, very satisfied with the bite mark she’d left on his shoulder.
Pain throbbed from the mark.
Ji Yue stared at her, a thousand reasons welling up in his heart, but he found himself suddenly speechless.
“When you kidnapped me and brought me back, Immortal Ji Yue, did you not imagine this day would come?”
Nan Shan traced his collarbone, thinking how unnaturally warm his body was. She was only now realizing it.
Truly, lust made people foolish.
“Or did you think you could defy fate, while I couldn’t?”
After she spoke, she paused for a moment.
When she looked at him again, her gaze was more serious.
“I’ll find a way for both of us.”
Ji Yue looked at her fixedly.
Compassion gradually rose in his eyes.
Nan Shan didn’t like the look he was giving her, so she shoved him back onto the bed, pulled his belt free, and blindfolded him with it.
“Nan Shan.” Ji Yue’s voice was dry.
The sudden loss of sight made him uneasy.
“You can refuse me.”
In the darkness, Ji Yue heard her say, “But if you refuse me this time, there won’t be another.”
Ji Yue’s breath hitched, a strange ache spreading from his chest to his limbs.
He couldn’t see her, nor himself—lost completely in confusion and haze.
But even so, he still managed to speak with difficulty:
“I can’t…”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
Nan Shan interrupted.
Ji Yue pressed his lips together and said nothing.
“Immortal Ji Yue?”
Nan Shan didn’t intend to let him off.
After a long silence, Ji Yue finally sighed.
“I can’t.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than he heard a soft, intimate laugh in his ear.
His throat tingled, and just as he was about to speak, his lips were covered by a familiar presence.
“I wasn’t planning to offer incense just now.”
“Immortal Ji Yue, you’ve been trapped by a censer for so many years. Even after falling, you still can’t break free. How could I bear to add another stick of incense to what binds you?”
“I just wanted to see—what kind of thing could cause a god so much pain?”
When the bed curtains fell, the blindfold loosened slightly, and Ji Yue, in his daze, barely caught a glimpse of Nan Shan’s eyes.
They were the most expressive eyes in the world—always clean, always clear.
They held no desire for him… or maybe they did.
It’s just that her desire didn’t disturb his ears, but instead kindled a heat in his body.
“Immortal Ji Yue,” the owner of those eyes curved her lips in a smile and negotiated with him, “Can you stop warming yourself? Your body feels like boiling water right now.”
“Ah…”
“How cold are you, exactly? Let me try,” Nan Shan coaxed him.
Ji Yue thought she must have cursed him.
Otherwise, why else would he, fully aware that he shouldn’t, still go along with everything she did and said?
The heat in his body faded, revealing his true, icy coldness.
Nan Shan shivered from the chill, just as he expected. Ji Yue immediately prepared to channel energy and warm up again, but she caught his fingers.
An ice blade melted into a honey spring, drops of water forming in its wake.
Heat and cold tangled into a painful yet joyful melody, the sky above the Eastern Yi erupting with boiling resentment.
In the bedchamber, Nan Shan, drenched in sweat, said clearly, one word at a time:
“This is what I like.”
Ji Yue closed his eyes.
Red light flickered at his lowered wrist, but in his mind, all he could see was her tearful expression.
In the end, it matched the divination.
He didn’t even know when he had fallen asleep—only that when he opened his eyes, Nan Shan was no longer by his side.
He sat quietly for a long time, gaze falling on the pillow embroidered with mandarin ducks.
Nan Shan had been in Eastern Yi for quite a while now.
The wedding bedding on the bed had long been replaced, yet the pillow was still in use, though its colors had faded.
The room was still filled with the chaotic scent of what had transpired.
Ji Yue pressed his lips together, used spiritual power to cleanse the entire room inside and out, and only then pushed open the door.
“Immortal Lord!”
Shou Xin greeted him cheerfully.
A faint smile touched Ji Yue’s eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, of course.”
Shou Xin handed him a bowl of soup she had prepared in advance.
“Nan Shan asked me to make this for you. She said it’s to help nourish your body.”
Ji Yue: …
“Immortal Lord, why is your face red?”
Shou Xin asked in confusion.
Ji Yue suddenly came back to his senses and coughed lightly.
“N-no, it’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Shou Xin frowned and was about to ask further when he saw Ji Yue’s expression change slightly.
Ji Yue suddenly turned and left.
“Immortal Lord! Where are you going?”
Shou Xin quickly asked.
“To find Nan Shan.”
Ji Yue said as he tore through the void and disappeared.
Shou Xin looked at the bowl of soup in his hands and muttered in frustration, “At least drink the soup. I worked so hard to make it…”
The blood-red sun was now mostly covered in dark spots, and the sunlight falling on the island gradually lost its heat.
Huge waves raged across the sea.
Nan Shan stood in the midst of them, fending off the attacks of resentful energy while struggling to tear open a small gap in the barrier.
It worked—if she could tear faster than the resentful energy could repair, the gap would grow wider and wider.
Nan Shan was fired up and about to give it another push when a figure suddenly flashed by.
Before she could react, she found herself already on the beach.
“What are you doing?!”
she exclaimed, stomping her foot in frustration.
“I was just about to succeed! Why did you stop me?!”
“If I hadn’t stopped you, all your spiritual power would’ve collapsed,” Ji Yue said sternly, for once with a rare cold expression.
Nan Shan was stunned, and only then did she realize that the fake spiritual bone she had created was already full of cracks—over a dozen of them.
If she had pushed her power just a little more, it would’ve broken into pieces.
Though the fake spiritual bone wasn’t durable, it was the key to channeling her spiritual power.
Once broken, her energy wouldn’t circulate, and instead would be blocked up in her other bones—likely tearing her body apart from the inside.
Realizing how close she’d come to disaster, Nan Shan felt a twinge of fear.
But when she met Ji Yue’s eyes, she still stubbornly retorted, “I had it under control.”
“Control, my ass!”
Ji Yue snapped.
Nan Shan blinked, stunned for a moment before hesitantly asking, “Ji Yue?”
“What?”
Ji Yue’s brows were still furrowed.
“…Did you just curse?”
Ji Yue paused, a trace of awkwardness flickering in his eyes.
Nan Shan broke into a grin.
“You really did! I thought I was hallucinating again. Who would’ve thought that the ever-ethereal Immortal Ji Yue would actually swear!”
A faint blush rose on Ji Yue’s cheeks, but he didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry, I was just too anxious,” Nan Shan said, grabbing his hand.
“Don’t be mad at me, okay? I’m really sorry…”
She pouted and whined like she used to with her parents, trying every trick she knew. Ji Yue’s irritation quickly faded.
But even if he wasn’t angry anymore, he still had to set some rules.
“I know what you’re trying to do. I don’t think it’ll work, but I won’t stop you either. Just promise me one thing—don’t act recklessly, and absolutely don’t risk your life.”
On the way here, Ji Yue had already thought it through.
Nan Shan was stubborn by nature.
Rather than forbidding her outright and making her regret it later, it was better to let her try within reason.
Seeing him so serious, Nan Shan immediately nodded obediently.
“I understand. I won’t do it again.”
Only then did Ji Yue reach out his hand to her.
Nan Shan immediately took it.
Ji Yue resisted at first but couldn’t help letting a small smile slip.
“Let go. I need to fix your spiritual bone.”
“Oh… okay.”
So it wasn’t for holding hands.
Ji Yue steadied his breath and slowly guided his spiritual energy into her body.
Nan Shan exhaled and relaxed, letting him work.
After a while, she sensed something wasn’t right.
Ji Yue frowned as well.
The blood-red sun still hung high, and while no one noticed, the dark spots had quietly grown again.
After the tenth failed attempt at repair, a rare heaviness settled over Ji Yue’s expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Nan Shan asked carefully.
Ji Yue looked at her for a long moment before turning away.
“I can’t fix it.”
Nan Shan had already sensed something was off.
Before, if the fake spiritual bone cracked, she could just infuse it with energy and it’d be fine.
But now, even with Ji Yue’s flood-like spiritual power, the cracks remained—only slightly shallower.
“Can we replace it with a new one?”
She asked hesitantly.
Ji Yue remained silent.
“If it doesn’t get better… what will happen?”
Nan Shan asked, growing cautious.
Ji Yue looked at her for a long while, then gently smiled and patted her head.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You’re barely holding on yourself…” Nan Shan muttered under her breath.
Then she noticed him reaching toward her again, so she leaned in and offered her forehead.
Ji Yue paused.
“What are you doing?”
“Aren’t you going to check?”
Nan Shan tilted her head.
Ji Yue was silent for a moment, then said, “No.”
With that, he turned to leave.
Nan Shan watched his back as he walked away.
Suddenly, she was struck by a thought.
The next second, she appeared beside him and clasped his hand tightly with hers.
Ji Yue’s eyes flickered slightly, and he glanced at her.
Nan Shan looked very serious.
“Immortal Ji Yue, what made you change your mind all of a sudden?”
“There’s no point in not changing,” Ji Yue said quietly.
“They’ve already done what they’ve done…”