The deep night of the Barren Wilderness was chillingly bitter.
Even magic robes struggled to ward off such intense cold.
As luck would have it, Xie Shi happened to have a black blanket tucked away inside his spatial sleeve.
It was unknown what kind of animal fur it was made from, but it was remarkably warm.
The blanket was just the right size to comfortably cover both of their figures.
Yet, Song Yan still seemed cold.
His soft body pressed closely against Xie Shi, and his two icy arms wrapped around Xie Shi’s waist, leaving not the slightest gap between them.
A faint, ethereal fragrance continuously drifted into Xie Shi’s nasal passages.
With his ears burning red, Xie Shi could neither pull away nor push him off.
He could only remain stiffly frozen in place, unmoving, closing his eyes tightly to pretend to sleep.
However, his eyelashes trembled like a butterfly on the verge of taking flight, a dead giveaway that his mind was in turmoil and that he certainly wasn’t asleep.
Song Yan curved the corners of his lips and called out to him, “A-Shi.”
Xie Shi’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his eyes, and the vast, boundless starry sky instantly rushed into his gaze.
His throat felt dry. Swallowing with difficulty, he asked, “What is it?”
Instead of answering, Song Yan countered, “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Prompted by those words, Xie Shi had no choice but to turn his head to look at him with a blushing face.
Song Yan’s smile was as radiant as a peach blossom, his brows and eyes brimming with charm, and his pink eyes reflected Xie Shi’s flushed countenance.
Seductively beautiful.
“I-I’m looking,” Xie Shi said honestly.
Song Yan let out a muffled chuckle.
So adorable.
Embarrassed by the laughter, Xie Shi scratched the back of his head and asked Song Yan, “Can’t sleep?”
Naturally, cultivators had no need for sleep; in fact, employees of the Matchmaker Bureau didn’t need it either.
Yet, Xie Shi had a particular fondness for the act of sleeping, though he didn’t even know the reason why himself.
As for Song Yan…
Xie Shi thought back to the dark imprisonment scenes later in the original text, as well as the many times Song Yan had fainted during them.
It was only natural to assume that a succubus would need sleep as well.
Looking at Xie Shi, Song Yan parted his lips and said, “Cold.”
He leaned even closer to Xie Shi.
Perhaps because he disliked wearing clothes, the front of Song Yan’s garments was pulled open slightly, revealing a stretch of fair, delicate neck and chest.
With his movement, a smoke-purple object slipped out from against his chest, catching Xie Shi’s eye.
Before, he hadn’t dared to look at Song Yan’s body and hadn’t noticed the necklace around his neck.
Once he saw clearly what it was, Xie Shi suddenly froze.
It was a piece of smoke-purple crystal, uncarved, gray, rugged, and jagged.
Pierced at both ends and strung on a thin cord, it hung against Song Yan’s chest.
Noticing Xie Shi’s trance, Song Yan followed his gaze and realized his rough-hewn necklace had slipped out.
“Amethyst, found only in the Demonic Abyss,” Song Yan explained. Remembering something, the smile on his face slowly faded, and his voice dropped lower. “It is a memento from my mother.”
Xie Shi looked at the amethyst hanging at Song Yan’s neck.
The reason he was dazed wasn’t because this crystal lacked refinement, but rather, he was reminded of Song Yan’s mother.
Song Yan’s mother was a cauldron raised in captivity by an immortal sect, named Song Yun.
She was called a cauldron, but in reality, succubi possessed no cultivation and could never truly be used as cauldrons.
Therefore, to be more precise, Song Yun was a sex slave.
Those self-righteous cultivators only called her a cauldron to make it sound better for their reputations.
Succubi were naturally delicate, and the only skill they possessed was charm arts.
The way they executed their charm arts was through their eyes.
To avoid falling victim to charm arts and courting disaster, the cultivators gouged out Song Yun’s eyes, replacing them with a pair of glass beads so her beauty wouldn’t be compromised.
Those cultivators placed restrictions on Song Yun, and she theoretically should not have been able to bear children.
Yet perhaps because too much time had passed, the restriction on her loosened.
One day, Song Yun discovered she was pregnant.
Whose it was remained unknown.
Reproduction was already difficult for succubi, which was why their clan was extremely sparse in number.
Song Yun paid a heavy price to secretly give birth to Song Yan.
She kept him hidden and tucked away, living through extreme hardship.
After giving birth to Song Yan, Song Yun’s health gradually failed.
When Song Yan was six years old, she died.
By then, the immortal sect had raised a new batch of succubi.
Among succubi, they would consume each other’s corpses.
They never harmed one another while living, but once a deceased clansman was found, they would quickly devour the body.
This was an unwritten consensus of the race.
Because it was the only way to strengthen their demonic veins.
An extremely tragic method.
Before dying, Song Yun even gave Song Yan an instruction.
Once she breathed her last, he must eat her as soon as possible.
However, Song Yan never waited for that opportunity, one he didn’t even want in the first place.
Because the sect leader of this immortal sect discovered that Song Yun had died.
He did not know that succubi cannibalism was done to grow stronger.
He only thought that succubi devouring their own kind made for a good show.
Thus, on a sunny day, he locked all the succubi inside a cage and threw Song Yun’s fresh corpse in with them.
Blood splattered everywhere, flesh torn from bone.
Not just Song Yun’s, but those of other succubi, and of the cultivators.
The succubi killed themselves, and only a single female succubus survived.
She ate all the dead succubi, then tore through the iron cage and slaughtered every watching cultivator.
Amidst the chaos, Song Yan found only this piece of amethyst.
It was the sole proof that Song Yun had ever lived.
Thousands of Entanglements spent a massive amount of ink describing Song Yan’s past.
Writing why he had such a paranoid personality.
Writing why he so deeply hated being imprisoned, toyed with, and dominated.
Xie Shi finally realized why he was so dissatisfied with the ending of Thousands of Entanglements.
What Song Yan despised and loathed the most was being recklessly trampled upon and humiliated.
This was a tragedy for him, for his mother, and even for the entire succubus clan.
Yet Meng Jingxue imprisoned him, deceived him, and utilized him.
He even wanted to kill him to attain the Dao.
When his attempt to attain the Dao failed, he forced Song Yan to become his kept favorite, subjecting him to daily abuse.
Treating him like an ant at the mercy of others.
Every single thing Meng Jingxue did was a knife stabbed into Song Yan’s spine.
Consequently, after being imprisoned a second time, Song Yan chose to spectacularly immolate himself and die right before Meng Jingxue’s eyes.
Yet Meng Jingxue exhausted every method to resurrect him.
And erased all of Song Yan’s past memories.
Having forgotten his past, Song Yan easily forgave Meng Jingxue.
The two of them achieved a Happy Ending just like that.
This ending left Xie Shi feeling blocked in the chest for three whole days and nights.
Song Yan valued his life so dearly, yet preferred death over submitting to Meng Jingxue.
This ending was practically an insult to him.
If he had to use a single word to describe Xie Shi’s feelings, it would probably be unresigned regret.
A lingering grievance.
He hated this ending belonging to Song Yan.
This ending was unfair to Song Yan.
Song Yan lowered his eyelashes. The boundless starlight fell, yet it still failed to light up his pupils.
He said softly, “It is also the only thing she left behind.”
Recalling the original ending, a dense, aching pain blossomed in Xie Shi’s heart. He desperately wanted to do something to comfort him.
After thinking for a long while, Xie Shi finally remembered that there was a small jar of candy inside his spatial sleeve.
It was stored in a bamboo tube.
Xie Shi hurriedly took out the bamboo tube, poured out an amber-colored candy piece, and asked Song Yan, “Candy, do you want some?”
He was terribly clumsy with words, and regretted speaking the moment the words left his mouth.
That sounded far too dry.
With a slightly flushed face, Xie Shi added in a small voice, “It should still be quite sweet.”
Cultivators mostly practiced Bigu. Seeming not to expect Xie Shi to carry candy with him, Song Yan was first stunned, then lowered his gaze and smiled, looking somewhat nostalgic.
He extended his fair, pink-tinged fingertips and picked the candy from Xie Shi’s palm.
His icy fingertips lightly brushed across Xie Shi’s palm, bringing a hint of itchiness.
Xie Shi couldn’t help but curl his fingers inward, as if trying to retain Song Yan’s departing hand.
Song Yan dissolved the candy piece in his mouth, and the sugary sweetness instantly melted across his palate.
“How is it? Sweet?”
Lifting his gaze, Song Yan saw Xie Shi looking at him with those light brown eyes, full of nervous anticipation.
Unable to hide even the slightest bit of emotion.
His damp tongue rolled the candy piece, pushing it to the other side. An even richer sweetness bloomed in Song Yan’s mouth. His gaze fell upon Xie Shi’s flushed face as he chuckled softly, “Mm, very sweet.”
It was unclear what exactly he was calling very sweet.
Sweet was fine.
Xie Shi instantly let out a sigh of relief.
“In the past, when I wanted to eat something sweet, my mother would go dig a kind of sweet grass root for me to chew on,” Song Yan rarely stripped away the seductive allure between his brows, his expression soft and sorrowful. “After chewing it, my mouth would be full of fibrous residue.”
His eyelashes trembled lightly, and mist welled up in his eyes. Those beautiful pink eyes were as translucent and fragile as crystal.
This speech, combined with this appearance, instantly struck Xie Shi’s already tender and aching heart.
He raised his hand, hesitating for a moment before carefully gathering Song Yan into his embrace.
This embrace was like a timely rain, pouring down onto Song Yan’s soon-to-be-parched body.
He eagerly wrapped himself around Xie Shi, revealing a triumphant smile.
Indeed, this still wasn’t enough.
If possible, Song Yan hoped he could be closer to Xie Shi, closer still.
Deep within his soul, hunger and cold clamored without a moment’s rest, stirring up trouble inside his body time and time again.
It was driving him almost mad.
If only there were no annoying layers of clothing blocking them, Song Yan thought, then he could directly touch Xie Shi’s warm skin, or even chew Xie Shi up and swallow him whole into his stomach.
But he couldn’t do that now.
Everything required taking things step-by-step.
If he scared him away, there would be nothing left.
Song Yan finally behaved. He obediently curled up in Xie Shi’s arms, his two arms hugging Xie Shi tightly.
It was a strength that imprisoned the person so they couldn’t run away, yet wouldn’t make them too uncomfortable.
Xie Shi shifted slightly and found that he couldn’t break free.
Since it wasn’t bound too tightly and he could still sleep, Xie Shi simply let him be.
He gently patted Song Yan’s back, lowering his voice to coax him, “It is all right now. Go to sleep.”
Holding Song Yan tightly, Xie Shi cast his gaze far into the distance toward the brilliant starry sky, finally making up his mind.
He did not want to also become a knife stabbed into Song Yan.
Pressing against Xie Shi, Song Yan gave a soft hum.
Xie Shi patted Song Yan’s back rhythmically, like coaxing a child.
However, by this time he was overwhelmingly drowsy. Before long, strength left his hands, and he drifted into a deep sleep.
Song Yan closed his eyes, and only after hearing the breathing of the person beside him grow smooth and steady did he open them again.
He was held in Xie Shi’s embrace, a clever posture where his head rested right against Xie Shi’s chest, allowing him to hear his steady heartbeat.
Song Yan lay there listening for a moment, then raised his head and placed his own hand on Xie Shi’s chest.
Feeling the vibration of the heartbeat beneath his palm.
Thump, thump, thump.
Regular and powerful.
Everything demonstrated that this person was still alive.
The Barren Wilderness was dead silent, and the countless stars filled the sky like pairs of prying eyes. Suddenly, Song Yan neurotically covered Xie Shi’s face.
Telling him not to be discovered by these prying eyes.
With his mouth and nose covered, Xie Shi let out an uncomfortable murmur.
Only then did Song Yan snap out of it like waking from a dream, hastily retracting his hand.
Xie Shi peacefully fell back asleep.
Song Yan quietly gazed at his face and once more rested his hand on Xie Shi’s chest.
Thump, thump, thump.
Yet Song Yan was still unsatisfied.
A trace of agitation welled up at the bottom of his heart, making him wish his fingertips could press downward, rip open Xie Shi’s chest, grab his heart, and make it beat right inside his own palm.
Only then could he truly feel that this person was alive.
Song Yan infatuatedly stared at Xie Shi’s sleeping face, his fingertips unconsciously exerting force.
Suddenly, a chilling wind swept by, carrying the scent of decay and interrupting his train of thought.
Song Yan raised his head to look.
At the edge of the desert, two clusters of burning blue soul fire flickered and swayed.
A bone spirit had discovered them and was rushing in their direction.
Song Yan’s expression turned aloof. As he looked at it, his pink eyes suddenly lit up, transforming into bloody vertical slits.
It was merely an imperceptible instant, so fast that even the system failed to notice, and his pupils returned to normal.
Meanwhile, the bone spirit in the distance seemed to sense something extremely dangerous and terrifying.
It stiffly halted in its tracks and began to tremble uncontrollably, its teeth chattering together to produce a rattling clack-clack sound.
The soul fire wavered, seeming on the verge of extinguishing the next second.
Before the soul fire could completely die out, the bone spirit let out a shrill screech, turned around, and fled in a panic.
Song Yan closed his eyes, hugged Xie Shi tightly, and obediently rubbed against the crook of his neck.
As if nothing had happened just now, and he knew nothing at all.
This was a calm and peaceful night.
The starry sky was boundless and vast.
The Barren Wilderness was dead silent; between heaven and earth, only he and Xie Shi remained, leaning against each other.