Extra 3
No matter how skilled the Demon Lord was at disguise, she couldn’t fool Lü Qingyan’s nose. Lü Qingyan, staring at the Demon Lord, who was strolling through the Ejian Sect in yet another new disguise, her patience finally snapping, dragged her to a secluded spot.
“Don’t expose me,” the Demon Lord warned, dropping the disguise, her voice a low growl, “or else…”
She considered this for a moment, then her expression turned fierce. “Or else I’ll take you and the cat and run away!”
Lü Qingyan, stunned into silence by this threat, then, her anger flaring, she exclaimed, “You’re so annoying!”
The Demon Lord, seeing that her threat had worked, her confidence returning, shifted her tactics, abandoning her disguise’s meek demeanor. She crossed her arms, glaring at Lü Qingyan, her attempt at intimidation slightly undermined by her height.
Lü Qingyan, exasperated, her brow furrowed in confusion, paced back and forth, then she slumped onto the steps, picking at a loose stone, her voice filled with a weary frustration. “If you’re trying to avoid her, why do you keep coming back?”
The Demon Lord had her reasons, but she wouldn’t share them. She shrugged, her voice nonchalant. “Because it’s fun.”
That flippant response made Lü Qingyan grit her teeth. In their past life, she would have punched the Demon Lord, but this Demon Lord was too powerful. She restrained herself.
She glared at the Demon Lord, then, unable to help herself, she offered some advice. “What are you even doing?” she asked. “If you like her, then pursue her! That’s how I got Jingxue.”
The Demon Lord was silent, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains, the sunlight warm on her face. She understood, but Luo Nianshang was… different. She couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenarios.
Her fear of rejection had paralyzed her, making her cling to the familiar, the safe.
But she was also greedy. She wanted Luo Nianshang, completely and irrevocably.
This vulnerability, this hidden tenderness, was her weakness, but she was the Demon Lord. She had her pride.
Explanations were pointless. She shrugged again, her expression carefully neutral, then she turned and left, leaving Lü Qingyan alone on the steps.
A black cat emerged from the shadows, settling down beside Lü Qingyan, then it transformed, revealing Bai Jingxue.
Lü Qingyan, who had known Bai Jingxue was there, sighed, her voice filled with exasperation. “She’s so awkward,” she said.
Bai Jingxue, even if the comment had been directed at her, wouldn’t have been offended.
She waved a hand, a gentle breeze scattering the dust on the steps, then she sat down beside Lü Qingyan, her voice soothing. “As long as they both love each other, and one of them is persistent, it’ll be fine.”
Her words seemed to hold a hidden meaning, but they calmed Lü Qingyan, who leaned against Bai Jingxue, her gaze meeting Bai Jingxue’s.
Bai Jingxue’s gentle gaze calmed the turmoil in her heart, and she reached out, taking Bai Jingxue’s hand, holding it between her own. “Jingxue,” she said, her voice a soft whine, “help me.”
The angry, rebellious girl of their past was fading, replaced by this affectionate, clingy creature.
But this was the Lü Qingyan Bai Jingxue wanted.
There was a solution, but they needed help.
They found She Yuwei staring at a wilted flower on her windowsill, her writing materials untouched.
This was unusual for the usually diligent She Yuwei. Bai Jingxue sensed something was wrong.
Instead of barging in, as she usually did, she knocked softly. “She Yuwei, are you there?”
She Yuwei, startled, quickly invited them in.
Bai Jingxue, stopping her from preparing tea, her gaze fixed on a white flower wreath hanging on the wall, beside She Yuwei’s sheathed sword, noticed She Yuwei’s troubled expression.
“I’ve been having strange dreams lately,” She Yuwei said, her voice quiet. “It’s like I’m experiencing other people’s lives. But it also feels like… me.”
Bai Jingxue, setting aside her own concerns, said gently, “Those aren’t your memories. You’re She Yuwei, not the evil god.”
She Yuwei, surprised by Bai Jingxue’s unexpected kindness, her heart warming, thought of her senior sister, her gentle nature so similar to Bai Jingxue’s, and she smiled.
Then, her expression turning serious, she said, “Although… I have to say, on Er Ya’s behalf, she did fulfill her promise to you.”
Lü Qingyan, hearing Er Ya’s name, her heart leaping, wanted to ask a million questions, but she knew she couldn’t treat She Yuwei like Er Ya.
Searching for another person’s shadow in someone else was unfair.
But she couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What promise?” she asked.
She Yuwei, her gaze lingering on Lü Qingyan’s face, then she nodded slowly. “I remember,” she said. “Did you want to ask something?”
Lü Qingyan, her excitement bubbling over, her thoughts a jumbled mess, could only manage a single word. “Promise?”
Once she had calmed down, Bai Jingxue, her voice gentle, her questions precise, guided the conversation, She Yuwei providing the answers.
Er Ya’s desire to see her friends, her last wish before her self-inflicted death, had transported her consciousness to the future, but she hadn’t found Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan. She had only witnessed the male lead’s first life, his tragic end.
So, using the last of her divine power, she had changed the rules of this world, creating a time loop, its starting point Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan’s arrival, its end the world’s destruction, a cycle repeating endlessly, waiting for their arrival.
And as a result, the cycle of reincarnation had malfunctioned, the souls of the dead trapped, frozen in time, waiting for the loop to reset.
But Er Ya had waited, and they hadn’t come. So she had decided to intervene, to bring them here herself.
It had been a risky move, but she had succeeded, though she had accidentally brought the wrong people. She had intended to spend time with them, as Er Ya, but that was no longer possible.
Er Ya’s consciousness, her final wish fulfilled, her connection to this world severed, had faded when Bai Jingxue had woken up.
“That secret realm you stumbled into,” She Yuwei explained, “it was a side effect of the time loop, the world attempting to repair itself.”
She Yuwei’s guilt intensified. As Bai Jingxue had said, she was just She Yuwei.
Bai Jingxue understood. Memories of Er Ya surfaced: a shy, timid child, her smiles hesitant, her eyes filled with a quiet sadness, her every action carefully considered.
This world’s rules had forced her to endure suffering, to inflict suffering, while her own heart remained kind. She had been tormented.
Bai Jingxue’s gaze softened, and she looked at She Yuwei, her voice gentle. “Don’t let those memories, those dreams, define you,” she said.
She Yuwei understood. “I know,” she said, smiling. “This ordinary, peaceful life… it’s what they wanted.”
But they had digressed. She Yuwei suspected these two powerful cultivators had a reason for visiting her. She felt a surge of anxiety.
Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan were close to the Sword Saint, and She Yuwei knew her own identity as the evil god’s reincarnation could be dangerous.
She imagined being imprisoned, or worse, her face paling.
She was about to plead for mercy when Bai Jingxue, her voice calm, said, “Would you be willing to write a short story for me?”
She Yuwei, confused, blinked. “Huh?”
Bai Jingxue had already calculated the risks. A short story, trapping the Demon Lord and Luo Nianshang together, shouldn’t have any significant side effects.
After all, it wasn’t changing destiny. It was simply accelerating it.
She stared at She Yuwei, her eyes gleaming with a calculating light, her smile gentle, yet somehow menacing.
“This is a deposit,” she said, placing a heavy bag of spirit stones on the table. “There’s more where that came from.”
The sight of the spirit stones, their light glittering, erased She Yuwei’s hesitation. She eagerly accepted the offer, her voice filled with a sycophantic cheerfulness. “Do you have any specific requests, Cat Master?” she asked. “I can write anything.”
Bai Jingxue’s lips curved into a small smile. “Would you dare write a story about the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord?”
She Yuwei, possessing Er Ya’s memories, understood the meaning of “fanfiction.”
Pairing those two was a strange idea, but enemies-to-lovers was a popular trope.
And spirit stones could motivate even the most reluctant writer. She Yuwei, her resolve hardening, grabbed her writing materials, her voice eager. “Tell me what you want.”
Once Bai Jingxue had finished explaining, She Yuwei repeated the request. “So you want them to be trapped in a closed space,” she said, “and they can only leave once they’re… together?”
Bai Jingxue nodded, satisfied. Lü Qingyan, watching this exchange, her eyes wide, her mind reeling, thought, “I didn’t know you could do that.”
She Yuwei, finding the request rather simple, readily agreed, promising to deliver a masterpiece.
As She Yuwei enthusiastically saw them off, Bai Jingxue glanced back at the wilted flower on the windowsill, a wave of sadness washing over her.
That tormented evil god, that fragmented consciousness, driven by hatred and despair, was nothing more than a lingering resentment, a ghost without a soul. And even if she could be resurrected, what good would it do? Her memories were filled with pain. There was no redemption for her.
Lü Qingyan, seeing her somber expression, tugged her sleeve, her voice cheerful. “That was clever, Jingxue,” she said. “But why not be bolder?”
Bai Jingxue, confused, asked, “Bolder?”
Lü Qingyan gestured wildly, and Bai Jingxue thought she was about to start dancing.
“Make it more explicit,” Lü Qingyan said, her voice a mischievous whisper. “Like, they have to do… things… to escape.”
Bai Jingxue understood, and she blushed, remembering the trashy novels she had read in her youth, before discovering the more refined literature of a certain green website.
“Those were dark times,” she thought.
Seeing Bai Jingxue’s embarrassed expression, Lü Qingyan quickly changed the subject.
She Yuwei, back in her room, closed the door, her inspiration flowing.
She was happily writing when a voice, cold and disdainful, echoed in her mind. “Tsk. How cliché.”
She Yuwei, her train of thought interrupted, her voice filled with annoyance, said, “What’s wrong with clichés?! I’ll write what I want!”
The voice scoffed. “How childish.”
She Yuwei, unable to concentrate, set down her brush, her voice laced with frustration. “Stop bothering me! I’m losing my inspiration!”
The voice, its tone mocking, said, “Are you regretting saving me?”
She Yuwei was annoyed, but she understood. The evil god’s harsh words, her prickly demeanor, were simply a defense mechanism.
But she was still incredibly annoying.
She Yuwei stared at the wilted flower on her windowsill, her voice a soft complaint. “I saved you,” she said. “I even gave you a space in my mind. Can’t you be nicer?”
The evil god’s response was swift and decisive. “No,” she said. “But you can choose to erase me.”
She Yuwei couldn’t do that. She gritted her teeth, wondering why this entity was so incredibly irritating.
The evil god was weak now, so weak that even She Yuwei could easily destroy her, but She Yuwei was too kind.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
But a thought suddenly occurred to her, and her mood lifted, her voice cheerful. “Calling you ‘evil god’ seems a bit harsh,” she said. “Why don’t I call you by your human name?”
The evil god’s voice rose an octave, a near-shriek.
“Don’t!”
She Yuwei tried to cover her ears, but the voice was in her mind.
Her head throbbed, and her patience wore thin.
She took a deep breath, forcing a smile, her voice laced with a sweet, menacing tone. “What’s wrong with ‘Cui Hua’?” she asked.
The evil god hated that name. Hearing it now, spoken so casually, she snapped.
She knew what She Yuwei cared about most, having spent some time in her mind, and she attacked without mercy.
“She Yuwei,” she hissed, “I curse you to be forever overshadowed by Piao Miao Xian! May your books never sell!”
Piao Miao Xian was a new author from the Spring Snow Sect. She was talented, and the Ejian Sect disciples had been buying her books.
She Yuwei, already struggling under the Ejian Sect’s restrictions, couldn’t handle this. She gritted her teeth, her voice a defiant chant. “Cui Hua! Cui Hua! Cui Hua!”
The evil god, enraged, retorted, “You’ll never be as good as her! Never!”
Two disciples, passing by She Yuwei’s room, hearing her chanting, their bodies trembling, whispered to each other.
“Is she possessed? Why is she talking to herself?”
“Maybe she’s stressed. The sect’s cracking down on her books. She can’t earn spirit stones anymore.”
“Poor girl.”
They glanced at She Yuwei, her eyes wide, her expression fierce, then they shook their heads and walked away, leaving behind only the echoes of She Yuwei’s defiant chant: “Cui Hua! Cui Hua! Cui Hua!”
***
Cui Hua : Because so many people have misused it for so many years, its original meaning has been forgotten nowadays. It is always a title of a village girl in northern China, which feels drably and unfashionable.(Source: hinative)
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