Chapter 105: Lost and Found
The mission was a failure. They couldn’t hand over the statues. Luo Nianshang didn’t care about the failed mission, but she felt bad for Fu Yuan.
Stars were rarely visible in the Demon Realm. Thanks to the left envoy, they didn’t have to conceal their identities. The city lords even treated them with respect.
Despite its gloomy atmosphere, the Demon Realm’s nights were far more lively than those of the righteous realm. Human desires and malice were on full display, unrestrained and unashamed.
Bai Jingxue, uncomfortable with the open display of hedonism, took Lü Qingyan and left the city.
The statues had been retrieved from the Black River. No more mortals would be drawn to its waters. Every time she tried to do something, it seemed the world no longer needed her intervention.
The crowds bustled around her, their laughter and their shouts a stark contrast to the silence within her heart. She felt lost, disconnected.
The night sky above was a heavy blanket of darkness, devoid of stars. She stood on the branch of a withered tree, her gaze fixed on the empty void.
She stroked Lü Qingyan’s ear, the dog’s soft purrs a comforting sound.
She smiled, her heart softening.
She found a sturdy branch and settled down, Lü Qingyan nestled in her lap. The dog, delighted, rolled around, and Bai Jingxue, chuckling, gently squeezed her ear.
Lü Qingyan, enjoying Bai Jingxue’s affection, glanced at the Black River in the distance, her thoughts drifting to the past.
A river, a bridge, two girls standing on the bridge, bathed in the warm glow of the streetlights, the occasional car rushing past, the silence returning after the rumble of its engine had faded…
Bai Jingxue had always disliked crowds. Lü Qingyan had never imagined she would accept someone as loud and boisterous as Lü Qingyan.
But society had frowned upon introversion. She had pretended to be someone else, forcing a smile, playing the role of a cheerful extrovert, a clown entertaining the masses.
Even she had found her performance ridiculous, a clumsy imitation. The gazes of others had been a cage, trapping her.
Whenever she had felt lost and overwhelmed, she had sought refuge on that bridge, staring at the rushing water, hoping the wind would carry away her troubles.
This scene was so similar, except that now, Bai Jingxue had brought Lü Qingyan with her.
Having spent so much time together, Lü Qingyan understood what Bai Jingxue was thinking.
She transformed into her human form, settling beside Bai Jingxue.
The wind, as if sensing their shared melancholy, lifted their hair, the black and white strands intertwining, a silent promise of their eternal bond.
Bai Jingxue, feeling the weight in her lap vanish, a sense of loss settling in her heart, clasped her hands together, her gaze fixed on the sky, hiding her emotions.
Lü Qingyan leaned back, her hands clasped behind her head. She knew Bai Jingxue needed silence. All she could offer was her presence.
The sky, devoid of moon and stars, was a vast expanse of darkness, its depths unsettling. After a long silence, Bai Jingxue finally spoke, her voice soft. “Do you have any wishes, Qingyan?”
Lü Qingyan turned to her, Bai Jingxue’s eyes, hidden beneath her lashes, dark and unreadable, their depths concealing a multitude of emotions.
Lü Qingyan stretched, her voice light and carefree. “Of course,” she said. “I wish to be with you forever.”
Bai Jingxue wasn’t embarrassed by her directness. They were alone. But Lü Qingyan’s love was a heavy burden.
She had never been truly loved. She didn’t know how to handle this intensity, this unwavering devotion. And the more she tried to reciprocate, the more she seemed to hurt Lü Qingyan.
And that hurt made her feel guilty, her guilt pushing her away.
“Why am I like this?” she wondered.
She chuckled, a self-deprecating sound, then sighed. “Qingyan, I don’t understand.”
Lü Qingyan, hearing the sadness in her voice, her own voice softening, asked, “Don’t understand what?”
Bai Jingxue opened her palm, staring at it, then slowly closed her hand, her voice laced with a quiet despair. “I don’t understand why I’m here.”
In her past life, she had studied diligently, hoping to change her fate. She had worked tirelessly, wanting to escape her family, to become worthy of Lü Qingyan’s love.
She had spent her life chasing after something, her heart filled with a yearning she couldn’t name. Although her family was still alive, she had stopped expecting anything from them. She had faced the world alone, weathering the storms, enduring the judgment of others, until she had become the reliable, responsible adult everyone expected her to be.
But now, in this new life, she felt lost, her purpose unclear. She had wanted to kill the male lead, but someone else had done it for her. She had wanted to solve the problem with the statues, but that had also been resolved.
She couldn’t find her value, and that lack of purpose filled her with a sense of panic.
She suddenly felt incredibly tired. She closed her eyes, her voice a weary whisper. “Can I borrow your shoulder?”
Lü Qingyan, normally delighted by such a request, couldn’t bring herself to be happy. She gently pulled Bai Jingxue down, her lap now supporting Bai Jingxue’s head.
Bai Jingxue, startled by the unexpected tenderness, felt tears stinging her eyes. She quickly covered her face with her hands.
Lü Qingyan, her usual boisterousness gone, her voice soft, understanding that tears, for Bai Jingxue, were a sign of vulnerability, deliberately avoided looking at Bai Jingxue’s face.
“Do you really need a purpose?” she asked, her voice gentle, the warmth in her tone dispelling the chill of the night. “You’ve been through so much. Just rest.”
She knew Bai Jingxue had to figure this out on her own. She wouldn’t offer any advice, only a promise. “No matter what,” she said, “I’ll always be here for you.”
Before Bai Jingxue could respond, she continued, her voice laced with a gentle amusement, “You haven’t changed at all. You might not say it, but I know you think you’re not good enough for me. That’s why you always push yourself so hard. You worked so many part-time jobs just to buy me that birthday present.”
Her voice softened, her heart aching. “You think I’m clueless, that I don’t understand anything,” she whispered. “But Jingxue, I might be clueless about other things, but I understand you better than anyone. But you never understood me.”
“All I want is for you to be with me.”
She longed for a response, but Bai Jingxue remained silent.
“Jingxue?” she whispered, her voice laced with concern.
She gently pulled Bai Jingxue’s hands away from her face, then realized that Bai Jingxue had fallen asleep.
She snorted, her voice a soft complaint. “Always using sleep as an escape. Especially during important moments.”
She pinched Bai Jingxue’s cheek, then, seeing her peaceful expression, her anger fading, she simply poked it gently.
The scene was so familiar, a memory from their past life. She stared at the river, its surface calm and still, a sense of peace settling within her heart.
This was the life she wanted: a life free from worries, a life where someone else handled the burdens, a life where Bai Jingxue didn’t have to be so strong.
She sometimes feared that this life was just a dream, a dream that would eventually end, and they would be back in that world of pain and disappointment.
A shooting star streaked across the dark sky, and she clasped her hands together, her wish a silent prayer: “May Jingxue’s life be filled with happiness.”
The shooting star vanished, then another one appeared, and another, and another.
Following their trajectory, she saw Luo Nianshang, hovering in the air above the Ejian Sect’s highest peak, her sword gleaming in the moonlight. She was gathering stones, tossing them into the air.
The ordinary stones, encased in ice, their surfaces gleaming, created trails of white light as they soared through the night sky.
The Demon Lord, disguised as Yao Yue, her pipa clutched in her arms, stared at the artificial meteor shower, her heart filled with a strange mix of emotions.
She had simply mentioned making a wish on a shooting star, and Luo Nianshang had actually created a meteor shower for her.
She was still lost in her thoughts when Luo Nianshang landed gracefully before her. She didn’t speak, but her gaze held a hint of expectation.
The Demon Lord couldn’t refuse. She placed the pipa across her lap, then clasped her hands together, her wish a silent prayer.
She finished her prayer, then, seeing that Luo Nianshang was about to leave, she quickly grabbed her sleeve. “Master, will you stay and talk with me?” she asked, her voice soft.
Luo Nianshang settled beside her.
The Demon Lord’s heart soared. All her disguises seemed to be effective, but her true form always brought complications.
She remembered the red patterns that had appeared on Luo Nianshang’s face, and the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion’s prophecy. Although she was a demon cultivator, she didn’t want Luo Nianshang to fall to demonic influence.
If she had followed the typical demon cultivator approach, she would have either forced Luo Nianshang into a relationship or dragged her down into the darkness.
If the moon was no longer pure and untainted, then they would be equals.
But she didn’t want that. Luo Nianshang had been her childhood sanctuary, the deity who had given her hope, the courage to survive. She wanted Luo Nianshang to remain on her pedestal.
She masked her true feelings, her voice laced with a feigned sadness. “The path of cultivation is so difficult,” she said. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to maintain a pure heart. Do you ever struggle with your own inner demons, Master?”
Luo Nianshang, staring at the troubled young woman, her thoughts drifting to the past, nodded. “Yes,” she said.
The Demon Lord’s eyes widened, her voice filled with a feigned surprise. “You too, Master?”
Luo Nianshang nodded again. “The world isn’t black and white,” she said, her gaze distant. “Sometimes, it’s hard to distinguish right from wrong. I dedicated my life to eradicating demon cultivators, but once, I betrayed my own principles.”
The Demon Lord assumed this was the source of her inner turmoil. “Betrayed your principles?” she asked, her voice eager.
Luo Nianshang hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze fixed on the horizon, her voice distant. “I was traveling through the Demon Realm in disguise,” she said. “I saved a group of medicine children. But only one survived.”
The Demon Lord’s heart pounded. That story sounded familiar. She had believed she would die in that dark, desolate prison, her only escape death itself.
But perhaps the heavens had taken pity on her. One day, a woman in white had appeared, tearing apart the bars of her cage with her bare hands.
She had been scooped into the woman’s arms, the stench of poison replaced by a faint, cool fragrance.
Her mind had cleared slightly, but her vision had been blurry. She had instinctively struggled, her hand accidentally pulling at the woman’s collar.
She had glimpsed a red mole on the woman’s neck, then darkness had claimed her again.
When she had woken up, the woman, her face ordinary, had been sitting beside her bed. “Do you want to live?” she had asked. “Embrace the darkness.”
Qiu Yingxi had shaken her head. “I don’t want to become like them,” she had whispered.
The woman had been silent for a long time, then she had said, “You can retain your heart, even in darkness.”
She had left a jade slip, then, pausing at the doorway, she had turned back, her voice soft. “Life and death are your choices,” she had said. “But you’ve endured so much, yet your heart remains kind. I believe in you.”
Qiu Yingxi, seeing that she was about to leave, had called out, “What if I fail?”
The woman had paused, but she hadn’t turned back. She had vanished, her voice echoing in the room. “Then I will end your life.”
The Demon Lord, snapping out of her memories, looked up at Luo Nianshang, whose neck was hidden by her collar.
She had recognized Luo Nianshang during their first encounter in the illusion, but even now, she wasn’t sure if she had lived up to Luo Nianshang’s expectations.
But Luo Nianshang was right here. She couldn’t bring herself to ask.
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