Since that day on the terrace, Su Yu felt that part of herself had died—the Su Yu who would be heartbroken over the destruction of Xuan Yu Zong, who still struggled for dignity, had been forever left before that water mirror reflecting the bloody scene.
But another part, a more primitive, more instinctual self, was slowly awakening under You Li’s meticulous nurturing.
Morning—if there was morning in the demon palace’s dungeon—You Li appeared as usual. This time, what she brought was not Cold Marrow Dew, but a bowl of warm rice porridge, exuding the simple fragrance of grains. The porridge was cooked soft and smooth, dotted with finely chopped green vegetables and some unknown flower petals.
“Eat.” You Li sat on the low stool beside the stone bed, holding the bowl of porridge to Su Yu’s lips.
Su Yu looked at the bowl of porridge and did not move. Her stomach instinctively contracted at the scent of food, emitting a faint rumble—she could no longer remember when she last ate normally. But her lips remained tightly shut, as if clinging to some already meaningless bottom line.
You Li did not urge her, simply holding the bowl and quietly watching her. The light of the glass lamp cast soft shadows on her face, making her look less like a demonic path enchantress and more like a gentle woman caring for a sick sister.
“Don’t want to eat?” You Li finally spoke, her voice flat. “Fine, saves waste.”
She made as if to withdraw the bowl. At that moment, Su Yu’s hand involuntarily lifted slightly—not to snatch the bowl, but an instinctive gesture of reluctance.
You Li saw it and brought the bowl back. “Good girl.”
This word was like a thin needle piercing Su Yu’s heart. She stiffly opened her mouth, allowing You Li to feed her spoonful by spoonful. The porridge was just the right temperature, soft and palatable, with a faint, delicate sweetness. Each swallow nourished her weakened body while also dismantling her last resistance.
The process of eating was quiet, with only the faint sounds of spoon and bowl touching. You Li’s movements were meticulous—she would gently blow on porridge that was too hot and use a silk handkerchief to wipe away residue from the corners of Su Yu’s mouth. This meticulousness frightened Su Yu more than rough treatment.
“The Gu poison will flare up three times today.” After feeding the porridge, You Li said in a conversational tone while tidying the bowl and spoon. “Once at dawn, once in the afternoon, and once at midnight. I will come at midnight.”
She did not say you need me, but I will come. This subtle shift in phrasing implied that she had already acknowledged Su Yu’s need and positioned her own presence as a form of charity.
Su Yu lowered her eyes, staring at the black chains on her wrists.
“You Li.” She suddenly spoke.
You Li’s movements halted, and she looked up at her.
“If one day,” Su Yu said slowly, each word seeming squeezed from the depths of her chest, “I completely become what you want—a puppet that only depends on you, that belongs only to you. What will you do to me then?”
You Li set down the bowl and spoon, stood up, and walked to the side of the stone bed. She leaned down, placing her hands on either side of Su Yu’s body, trapping her between herself and the stone bed. Their faces were very close, close enough to feel each other’s breath.
“I will take you to the highest mountain peak to watch the sunrise,” You Li whispered, her crimson eyes reflecting Su Yu’s pale face. “To the deepest valley to hear echoes, to the most expansive coast to watch the tides. I will teach you the secret arts of the demonic path, making you strong, no longer needing anyone’s protection. I will give you the finest treasures of the entire demon palace, elevating you to a position second only to one, above ten thousand others.”
Her fingers brushed Su Yu’s cheek, gentle as if touching fragile glass.
“And then, when everyone fears and admires you, I will tell you that all of this is because I love you—in my own way, with my own methods, but ultimately, because I cannot bear to lose you.”
Su Yu’s heart pounded violently—not from emotion, but from fear. The future You Li painted was too vivid, too specific, even carrying a twisted beauty. It was not the fate of a captive, but of a favored consort, an accomplice, a meticulously crafted work of art.
“That is not love,” Su Yu said, her voice trembling slightly.
“What is it then?” You Li asked, her gaze terrifyingly earnest.
“It is possession. It is control. It is—”
“It is salvation,” You Li interrupted, her fingertip resting on Su Yu’s lips. “You and I, we cannot go back, Sister Su Yu. But we can move forward together, to a place that belongs only to us. There, there will be no distinction between the righteous path and the demonic path, no division between Sheng Nu and demoness—only you and me.”
“Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” she murmured, as if tempting or questioning herself.
Su Yu wanted to say no, to say it was hell, an abyss, an ending more terrifying than death. But her lips moved without sound. Because at that moment, the Gu poison suddenly flared.
Not the violent, scorching heat from before, but a subtle, lingering itch that spread from deep within her bones, flowing through her blood vessels to every limb. This sensation was more terrifying—not intense, yet omnipresent, as if something were slowly growing inside her, attempting to reshape her from within.
Su Yu’s body trembled uncontrollably, her skin flushing with an unnatural redness. It was a deeper craving, a morbid longing for You Li’s presence.
You Li clearly sensed it. She did not retreat but drew closer, almost pressing against Su Yu’s body. Cold met feverish heat, and Su Yu let out a suppressed whimper.
“Do you need me?” You Li asked, a faint trace of amusement in her voice.
Su Yu closed her eyes, sweat trickling down her forehead. Her reason screamed, but her body betrayed her. She could feel herself involuntarily leaning toward You Li, like a dying person in the desert lunging toward an oasis.
“Please…” she heard herself utter that shameful word, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum.
You Li did not satisfy her immediately. She maintained that distance, allowing Su Yu to feel her presence but not truly touch her. This torment of being so close yet so far was more cruel than direct contact.
“Say it completely,” You Li commanded softly. “What are you begging for?”
Su Yu’s lips trembled, shame washing over her like a tidal wave. She knew this was You Li’s taming, knew that with each surrender, she drew one step closer to the abyss. But she couldn’t control herself—the Gu poison had already eroded too deeply. Her will was like wood eaten away by insects, seemingly intact yet crumbling at the slightest touch.
“Please… touch me…” she finally uttered, tears following her words.
You Li smiled. It was not a smile of triumph, but one of near-sorrowful satisfaction. She reached out, pulling Su Yu into her embrace, her cold body temperature enveloping Su Yu’s feverish form. Su Yu let out a sigh that bordered on relief, collapsing completely into her arms.
This time, You Li did not kiss her, merely held her, one hand gently patting her back as if soothing a frightened child.
“Good girl,” she repeated that word, “I will always be here.”
Su Yu buried her face in You Li’s shoulder, tears soaking the black fabric. She could feel You Li’s heartbeat, steady and strong, a stark contrast to her own frantic pulse. She could smell You Li’s unique, cold fragrance, which now seemed like a kind of analgesic, easing the unbearable itch within her.
The most terrifying part was that she actually felt a sliver of comfort.
This realization plunged her into an icy abyss. She was finding comfort in the arms of the very person who imprisoned her, tormented her, and destroyed everything she held dear. Her body remembered this solace; her nerves had forged new connections—when in pain, You Li was the antidote; when in fear, You Li was the refuge.
“I’m turning into a monster,” Su Yu murmured into You Li’s shoulder, her voice muffled by the fabric, so faint it was almost inaudible.
You Li heard her. Her fingers gently combed through Su Yu’s sweat-dampened hair, her movements as tender as if handling the most precious treasure.
“You are not a monster,” she whispered, her lips almost brushing Su Yu’s ear. “You are merely being reborn. The process of shedding an old shell is always painful, but after breaking free from the cocoon, you will be even more beautiful.”
“I don’t want to…” Su Yu’s voice broke, “I don’t want to become something else…”
“There’s no going back,” You Li’s voice was soft yet carried an irresistible firmness. “From the moment you drank ‘Love’s Entanglement,’ from the moment you watched Xuan Yu Zong fall with your own eyes, from the moment you sought relief in my arms—there is no going back.”
She released her embrace, cupping Su Yu’s face with both hands, forcing her to meet her gaze.
“Look at me, Su Yu,” You Li said, her crimson eyes bottomless. “Remember this moment. Remember how you need me. Remember this feeling. Then admit it—admit that you need me, just as I need you.”
Su Yu looked at her, tears continuously streaming down. You Li’s face wavered in her blurred, tear-filled vision, sometimes clear, sometimes indistinct. She saw Qing Li—that smiling young girl, that junior sister who would crawl into her bed during thunderstorms. She also saw You Li—this bewitching demoness, the one who had destroyed everything she held dear.
The two faces overlapped, the boundary between love and hate completely blurred.
The effects of the Gu poison gradually receded, but the feeling of being reshaped did not disappear. Su Yu felt that a part of her had been permanently altered, as if something had broken through from within, growing wildly, encroaching upon the space that once belonged to “Su Yu, the Sheng Nu.”
You Li wiped away her tears with a finger, her touch as gentle as if handling something fragile.
“Sleep,” she said. “I’ll come again tonight.”
She helped Su Yu lie down, tucked her in with the brocade quilt that carried a cold fragrance, then rose to leave. At the cell door, she glanced back. Su Yu lay on her side, curled into a fetal position, eyes wide open, staring at the shadows on the stone wall.
In that moment, a complex, inscrutable emotion flickered in You Li’s eyes—there was the pleasure of victory, the satisfaction of control, but deeper still, there seemed to be a trace of pain.
The cell door closed, and the dungeon returned to silence.
Su Yu did not sleep. She lay with her eyes open, feeling the remnants of the Gu poison recede slowly like an ebbing tide, leaving behind a strange, hollow sensation. Her body was no longer feverish or itchy, yet it felt as if something vital had been lost—some fundamental structure that had supported her existence.
She tried to recall the mountain gate of Xuan Yu Zong, the incense smoke in the Ancestral Hall, the sound of her senior brothers and sisters chanting scriptures during morning lessons. But those images grew blurry, as if seen through a veil of mist, indistinct. In their place, clearer memories surfaced—You Li’s focused profile as she fed her porridge, You Li’s cold yet steady warmth when holding her, the unwavering certainty in You Li’s voice when she said, “I’ll always be here.”
“No…” Su Yu whispered to herself. “I can’t let this happen…”
She began silently reciting the Heart-Cleansing Mantra, trying to grasp at a final lifeline. But halfway through the chant, You Li’s voice surfaced in her mind, gently interrupting: “Sleep, I’m here.”
Her eyes snapped open, her breathing quickened. This was no illusion—it was a memory. The words You Li had spoken before leaving were now deeply etched into her consciousness, becoming a new mantra.
Su Yu lifted her shackled hands, gazing at her pale fingers. They trembled slightly, not from fear, but from a deeper, unacknowledged anticipation—the anticipation of midnight, of You Li’s return, of that cold embrace that could soothe all pain.
At last, she understood the full scope of You Li’s plan.
This was not mere imprisonment, nor crude torture, but a precise surgical operation on the mind. You Li was gradually severing her connections to the past, then implanting new neural pathways, setting “You Li” as her sole reference point, her only salvation, her only meaning.
And the most terrifying part was that the operation was succeeding.
Su Yu turned over, facing the stone wall. A bead of moisture seeped from the wall, slowly sliding down, glimmering faintly in the dim light. She watched the droplet gather, swell, fall, splash against the stone floor, and vanish.
Just like her.
A drop of water merging into the sea, never to be found again.
The darkness deep in the dungeon was thick as ink. Su Yu closed her eyes, no longer resisting sleep. Just before sinking into the darkness, her final thought was—
If what emerges from the cocoon is not a butterfly, but something darker, then what is the meaning of breaking free?