Su Yu no longer attempted to stir that faint light of her Dao Foundation, nor did she try to control her heartbeat or body temperature. She even stopped deliberately recalling the past. Like a plant drained of all moisture, she withered on the stone bed, with only the faint heartbeat beneath the Warm Jade Silk proving she was still alive.
You Li would appear twice each day. Once in the “morning,” bringing a light porridge and personally feeding it to her. Once at midnight, when the Gu poison flared, she would come, holding Su Yu, using her cold body to soothe the burning heat until Su Yu trembled and calmed in her embrace.
The two rarely spoke. When being fed porridge, Su Yu swallowed mechanically, her eyes hollow as she stared at some spot in the dungeon. When embraced, she merely curled up, occasionally letting out faint whimpers like a wounded animal. You Li no longer spoke of “punishment” or “choices,” silently completing these actions before leaving.
But something was quietly changing in the dead silence.
On the fourth or fifth “morning,” when You Li entered as usual with the porridge bowl, she found Su Yu not lying on the stone bed waiting as before. Instead, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet on the cold floor, head bowed, gazing at the red marks on her wrists where the black chains rubbed against her skin.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up. Her eyes were still hollow, but no longer completely lifeless. Instead, they held an extreme exhaustion, like a traveler who had finally given up struggling after a long journey.
You Li paused for a moment, then approached as usual, scooping up a spoonful of porridge and bringing it to Su Yu’s lips.
Su Yu did not open her mouth immediately. She stared at that spoonful of porridge for a long time, so long that the steam from the porridge nearly dissipated. Then, very faintly, she shook her head.
It was not resistance, nor was it defiance—it was a profound weariness that had stripped even the act of eating of all meaning.
You Li’s hand holding the spoon froze mid-air. Her crimson eyes fixed on Su Yu’s pale, gaunt face, as if searching for any trace of pretense. But there was none—only a barren exhaustion.
She set down the spoon, placing the porridge bowl on a small table nearby. Then, she crouched down in front of Su Yu, a posture that made her seem less imposing.
“You must eat.”
Su Yu only shook her head, the movement slight but resolute.
You Li fell silent for a moment, then suddenly reached out and grasped Su Yu’s cold wrist—not with the controlling force from before, but with an awkward, almost clumsy attempt to convey warmth. Her hand was also cold, but compared to Su Yu’s, it at least held the temperature of a living person.
“You’ve grown much thinner,” You Li said, her fingers unconsciously tracing the protruding bones of Su Yu’s wrist. “If you don’t eat, you will die.”
Su Yu’s eyelashes trembled slightly, but she still did not respond.
A long silence fell over the dungeon. Only the sound of dripping water remained, eternal and unchanging.
Then, You Li did something that surprised Su Yu—and perhaps even herself. She picked up the porridge bowl, took a sip, held it in her mouth, and then leaned in close.
This was not a kiss, nor even a conventional act of feeding. It was something more primal, more direct. She pinched Su Yu’s chin, forcing her mouth open, and then transferred the warm porridge from her own mouth to Su Yu’s.
Su Yu froze. The warm liquid slid down her throat, carrying the fragrance of grain and… You Li’s scent. This act was too intimate, too transgressive, even more unsettling than any previous torment—because it stripped away the guise of punishment and retribution, revealing beneath it a twisted, unrefusable form of “care.”
A bowl of porridge was fed to her, sip by sip, in this manner almost akin to feeding a young creature.
After it was finished, You Li wiped the corner of Su Yu’s mouth with a silk handkerchief. The motion was not gentle, but it was meticulous. Her fingertip inadvertently brushed Su Yu’s lip, leaving behind a trace of icy coldness.
“Eat by yourself tomorrow,” she said, standing up and resuming her lofty, overbearing posture, yet there was something different in her tone. “Don’t make me feed you like this again.”
After she left, Su Yu sat dazed for a long while before slowly lying back down on the bed. She raised her hand to touch her own lips, where the warmth of the porridge and a trace of unfamiliar softness seemed to linger.
That night, the onset of the Gu poison came slightly later than usual. When the familiar scorching heat began to spread, Su Yu did not curl up or tremble. She simply lay still, gazing into the darkness above the dungeon ceiling, as if she had already grown accustomed to this periodic torment.
You Li appeared on time. Standing by the bed, she looked at Su Yu’s calm face. A flicker of confusion passed through her crimson eyes, followed by a deeper, more inscrutable emotion.
Instead of picking Su Yu up directly as she usually did, she extended her hand, hovering it above Su Yu’s chest—where the Blood Mark Pact beneath the Warm Jade Silk glowed faintly. Her fingertips were close, yet they did not touch.
“Does it hurt?” You Li suddenly asked.
Su Yu slowly turned her eyes to look at her. Her gaze remained one of weary emptiness, but deep within, an extremely faint ripple seemed to stir. She nodded, the movement slight.
You Li’s fingers descended, but not to press down. Instead, they rested lightly, almost caressingly, over the location of the Blood Mark Pact. The Warm Jade Silk transmitted her warmth, and also conveyed her… cautiousness.
“Endure it a little longer,” she said, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. “It will… pass soon.”
Then she leaned down and gathered Su Yu into her arms. This time, her movements were gentler than ever before; the strength of her embrace was no longer meant to confine, but more like a form of… support. Her chin rested atop Su Yu’s head, her cold breath brushing past her ear.
The scorching heat of the Gu poison gradually subsided within the cold embrace. Su Yu did not stiffen or go limp as she usually did. Instead, with extreme slowness and tentativeness, she buried her face into the crook of You Li’s shoulder.
A subtle, almost imperceptible closeness.
You Li’s body stiffened almost unnoticeably. She did not push away; instead, she tightened her arms.
That night, after the Gu poison subsided, You Li did not leave immediately. She held Su Yu, sitting on the stone bed for a long, long time. So long that Su Yu fell into a deep sleep in her embrace, her breathing becoming even and light; so long that the flame of the crystal lamp flickered and dimmed a notch; so long that even the chill deep within the dungeon seemed to be slightly dispelled by the warmth of their embrace.
In her sleep, Su Yu unconsciously curled up, her cold fingers grasping a strand of You Li’s hair as if clutching a lifeline.
You Li lowered her head, gazing at the pale sleeping face in her arms, at the still-damp tear tracks on her lashes, at the faintly furrowed brow that remained even in slumber.
Then, she sighed—so softly, as if afraid to startle something.
That sigh was too light, light as an illusion, dissipating in the damp air of the dungeon, leaving no trace behind.
But some things had already changed.
The next day, when You Li returned, she brought not only porridge but also a small plate of finely sliced sweet fruit, unique to the Demon Realm. The flesh was a pale purple, emitting a fresh, sweet fragrance.
She said nothing, simply placing the porridge and fruit plate on the small table before taking two steps back to watch Su Yu.
Su Yu remained seated on the edge of the bed, her bare feet on the floor. She looked at the porridge, then at the plate of sweet fruit, and for a long time, she did not move.
You Li did not urge her, only waited patiently.
Finally, Su Yu reached out—not for the bowl, but to pick up a small piece of the fruit with her fingertips and place it in her mouth. The flesh was soft, sweet, with a strange coolness that slid down her parched throat.
She ate one piece, then another. Then, she picked up the bowl of porridge and, sip by sip, finished the entire bowl herself.
Silence filled the entire process. But You Li watched all along, and beneath the frozen surface of her crimson eyes, it seemed as if extremely fine cracks were spreading.
That night, when the Gu poison flared, You Li arrived a little earlier than usual. She did not wait for Su Yu to begin trembling but instead proactively sat on the stone bed and drew her into her embrace.
“It will hurt less today,” she said softly, as if stating a fact, or perhaps making a promise.
Indeed, the Gu poison’s flare-up did not seem as intense as before. Su Yu still sweated, still trembled, but the heart-rending, searing pain had lessened, replaced by a deeper, dull ache, like an old injury flaring up on a damp, rainy day.
She breathed shallowly in You Li’s embrace, tears flowing silently—not the tears of collapse from before, but closer to… tears of grievance.
You Li’s hand patted her back, stroke after stroke—the motion clumsy, even somewhat stiff, yet persistent.
On the third day, You Li brought an outer robe—not the thin, nearly skin-like garment of the Warm Jade Silk, but a deep cyan outer robe with a thick texture and a fleece lining. She draped the robe over Su Yu’s shoulders, adjusted the collar, covering the dark red Blood Mark Pact beneath the Warm Jade Silk.
“The dungeon is damp and cold,” she said simply, her fingers brushing Su Yu’s icy neck, pausing for a moment. “Don’t catch a chill.”
Su Yu clutched the edge of the robe, her fingertips sinking into the soft fleece. She did not say thank you, only buried her face in the collar and took a deep breath. The robe carried You Li’s cold fragrance, along with a hint of… sunlight? Where in the depths of the demon palace could sunlight be found?
She did not ask, and You Li did not explain.
That afternoon, You Li did not leave as usual but stayed a little longer in the dungeon. She even brought an ancient-looking book bound in beast hide and began flipping through its pages under the glow of the crystal lamp. The rustling sound of turning pages echoed strangely peaceful in the dungeon’s silence.
Su Yu huddled in the corner of the stone bed, wrapped in her outer robe, watching You Li’s profile. The lamplight traced the straight line of her nose and the tight curve of her lips. Her crimson eyes were lowered, long lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. For a moment, Su Yu seemed to see Qing Li from a century ago, staying up late reading in the archives—focused, quiet, with only the soft rustle of turning pages.
She stared for too long. You Li seemed to notice, lifting her gaze to meet hers.
Their eyes met. No hatred, no fear, no possessiveness—just a calm, brief look.
Then You Li turned away, returning to her book. Su Yu also lowered her head, burying her face in the warm fur of her robe.
The change was slow, subtle, like frozen earth thawing under the first spring sun, inch by inch.
Su Yu began to eat on her own, though only a little. Occasionally, when You Li was away, she would try to take a few steps within the confines of the stone bed. She even started tending to herself—combing through her tangled hair with her fingers, washing her face and hands with the water You Li left behind.
She still did not speak. Her eyes still held deep exhaustion and emptiness, but that death-seeking, utterly defeated grayness seemed to be fading, bit by bit. In its place was a resigned calm, a fragile balance—as if she had found some small foothold in the depths of despair.
You Li’s change was more subtle. She no longer watched Su Yu with that cold, scrutinizing gaze at all times. When feeding her porridge, her movements were no longer stiff; when holding her, her embrace no longer felt like a claim of ownership. She began to bring small, seemingly meaningless things—a leaf with an unusual shape, a smooth black stone, and one day, even a small, dried branch of an unknown flower with a faint fragrance.
She never said what these were or where they came from, simply placing them on the small table before leaving. Su Yu would pick them up, turning them over in her hands for a long time before setting them back down.
They still rarely spoke. But the silence was no longer filled with oppression and fear. Instead, it had become a way of… coexisting. Two scarred souls, trapped at the bottom of a dark abyss, separated by an insurmountable past and wounds, yet forced to share the same cramped space, the same slow passage of time.
On the seventh day, at midnight, the Gu poison’s onset was unusually mild. Su Yu only felt a brief wave of heat, which soon subsided in You Li’s cold embrace. After it passed, she did not fall asleep immediately but leaned against You Li’s shoulder, breathing softly.
You Li did not leave right away either. She held Su Yu, her fingers unconsciously combing through the other’s long hair, stroke by stroke. She had done this many times before, from awkwardness at first to naturalness now.
The dungeon was quiet, filled only with the faint, almost inaudible sound of their breathing.
Then, Su Yu suddenly spoke. Her voice was soft, hoarse, like the strained pluck of a long-unused string:
“…Is the moon outside full?”
The question came out of nowhere, her voice so light it might have been a dream.
You Li’s fingers stilled in Su Yu’s hair. She looked down at Su Yu’s face, eyes closed as if she had spoken without thinking.
A long time passed—so long that Su Yu thought she would not answer, or perhaps had not even heard—before You Li whispered:
“The moon in the Demon Realm… is red.”
Su Yu’s eyelashes fluttered, but she did not open her eyes. Instead, she gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod—as if she had received a long-awaited answer, or perhaps it was merely an unconscious reflex.
Then she fell silent, her breathing gradually evening out as though she had drifted into sleep.
You Li continued to hold her, fingers lingering in Su Yu’s hair. She lifted her head and gazed toward the small window of the dungeon—if it could even be called a window—that offered no view of the outside world. Deep within her crimson eyes, the flickering flame of the glazed lamp was reflected, yet it seemed as if she could see beyond, to the eternally hanging, blood-red Demon Moon outside.
Some change had begun.