Sensing Chen Hexuan’s unease, Qi Yu’s heart softened involuntarily. He took the initiative to step forward and wrap his arms around Chen Hexuan’s waist.
When had Qi Yu ever seen his Senior Brother like this?
In his eyes, Senior Brother was always powerful, calm, and invincible. Even when imprisoned, he had never shown a single trace of vulnerability or a need to rely on others.
Qi Yu thought that he must have loved his Senior Brother very much once. It was the kind of love that persisted regardless of whether the man was strong or weak, regardless of his status. He had loved him so much that even now, when that love had supposedly withered, his heart still fluttered at an embrace and ached at the man’s suffering.
Even though he “didn’t love him” anymore, he still wanted to be held like this forever.
Chen Hexuan didn’t know what Qi Yu was thinking; he only knew he wanted to hold this person tightly. He was terrified that if he let go, Qi Yu would die before his eyes. As he felt those hands touch his waist, he tightened his grip.
The moon hung in the sky amidst the falling snow, and the lake was deathly silent. This was the exact scene Qi Yu had once fantasized about. He should have been happy, but his heart felt like a wasteland. The tighter Chen Hexuan held him, the more tragic it felt—tragic because this realization of his dreams only came after his love had died.
Fantasies eventually return to reality, and eventually, they are shattered. Qi Yu’s hands slowly slid down from Chen Hexuan’s back. Just as his fingertips left that warm skin, Chen Hexuan grabbed his hands and looked down at him.
Qi Yu didn’t dare look up. He kept his eyes cast down, terrified that his Senior Brother would see a face covered in tears—fearful that the man would realize he was crying over him yet again.
Chen Hexuan gripped those two hands firmly. His eyes were dark as ink. “Qi Yu, what on earth are you hiding from me?”
His voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion and pain, his tone trembling as if he hadn’t fully emerged from his nightmare. Qi Yu remained silent, afraid that his voice would crack with a sob. He didn’t want to cry, and he didn’t even know why he was crying, but he couldn’t stop. By the time he regained his focus, tears were already tracing paths down his cheeks.
Chen Hexuan stared at the thin, trembling shoulders before him. “Look at me.”
Qi Yu tried to pull away, but Chen Hexuan held his hands tight against his own chest as if afraid he would bolt. “Speak,” he commanded.
So be it, Qi Yu thought. Let him see the tears. I don’t love him anymore anyway. What does it matter? He lowered his head further, hoping the wind would dry his eyes before he was forced to look up.
Perhaps the wind was too light, or perhaps Chen Hexuan’s strength was too great. Just as Qi Yu gave up, Chen Hexuan used one hand to lift his chin while the other kept a firm grip on his hands.
A face stained with tears was revealed. Those beautiful green eyes were clouded with mist, the rims red, and the tracks of tears ran from his eyes to his jawline. His nose was red as if he had been cruelly bullied. Qi Yu gasped slightly, his eyes filling with a look of desolation.
Chen Hexuan let go of Qi Yu’s hands only to grip his waist. His other hand gently brushed away the damp hair clinging to Qi Yu’s forehead. Qi Yu tried to dodge, but with his waist held firm, there was no escape.
“Why are you in such a state?” Chen Hexuan asked, his thumb gently wiping away a tear track, as if he could erase the misery itself.
Being treated so tenderly by the “real” Senior Brother for the first time made Qi Yu’s eyes burn again. He turned his head slightly and forced a smile. “Whether I am in a state or not, what does it have to do with you, Senior Brother?”
Chen Hexuan glanced at his hand, which remained suspended in mid-air where Qi Yu had dodged it. “You are my Junior Brother,” he said casually. “If I don’t look after you, who will?”
Qi Yu couldn’t understand the sudden change in attitude from the man who had coldly rejected him moments ago. Since their relationship shattered, his Senior Brother had never acknowledged their bond—even back at the Xingzhou Sect, he had rarely admitted to it, acting as if Qi Yu were a stranger.
Confused and overwhelmed, Qi Yu turned away, his black hair veiling his profile. “Senior Brother, do you no longer hate me?”
Chen Hexuan stared at him. “I hate you. How could I not?”
But at the same time, he was afraid. He feared that if he didn’t do something now—if he didn’t hold on—Qi Yu would vanish forever, just like in the nightmare. So even with the hate, he had to keep him within reach.
As expected. How could he not hate me? Qi Yu’s lips quirked into a bitter smile, which Chen Hexuan caught instantly.
“If you don’t want to smile, then don’t,” Chen Hexuan frowned. Seeing that smile made his heart throb with pain. He couldn’t stand the tears, so he pulled a clean handkerchief from his storage ring, moistened it with water, and began carefully dabbing at Qi Yu’s face.
The touch of the damp cloth made Qi Yu’s eyes wetter. He stared blankly into Chen Hexuan’s deep eyes. How can someone have such cold eyes but such gentle hands?
“Stop crying,” Chen Hexuan grumbled. “I can’t keep up with the tears.” He didn’t want to be doing this, but he couldn’t stand to see those beautiful eyes weep. As he wiped, he wondered how someone could cry so silently.
Chen Hexuan’s mind drifted to the past. He rarely saw Qi Yu cry, except when they were in bed. Did becoming a Sword Spirit make him more prone to tears? He thought he hated seeing people cry, but with Qi Yu, he felt no impatience—only bitterness. How can someone look so… pitiful yet lovely while crying?
Qi Yu’s face flushed with heat. He didn’t know why he was so emotional. He hadn’t cried when his parents abandoned him, nor when his Master cast him out. He had always believed he was a cold-hearted Great Demon ($Tian Mo$) without desires.
But in front of this man, he was a “real” demon. Even though he was wounded by the knowledge that Chen Hexuan “didn’t want to love him,” he still gravitated toward the man’s vulnerability. He knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. Senior Brother was the only reason he existed; without him, he would have found a forest or a sea to die in long ago. His obsession had kept him alive all these years.
But he was so tired. He didn’t want to live anymore. Even with Senior Brother in this world, living was just too painful. He was too afraid to love anymore.
Chen Hexuan put away the handkerchief and saw Qi Yu spacing out. He picked him up in a bridal carry. Qi Yu, startled, instinctively hooked his arms around the man’s neck. Chen Hexuan carried him to the shore and set him down. “Stay right here. Don’t move while I dress.”
Qi Yu stood obediently, his eyes fixed on Chen Hexuan’s broad, reliable back—a back he had clung to many times, a place he still longed for.
As Chen Hexuan was dressing, he suddenly heard Qi Yu ask:
“Senior Brother, have you… fallen in love with me?”
Chen Hexuan froze. He didn’t speak. He didn’t know the answer. He should have denied it instantly, yet he hesitated before finally saying: “No.”
To make it sound more convincing, he added: “I will never love you.”
How could I love Qi Yu? I could love anyone else, but never him.
Chen Hexuan adjusted his hair crown, fully dressed now, but he was afraid to turn around. Was he afraid of seeing more tears?
He received no response. Chen Hexuan wondered: Did my actions—holding him, wiping his tears—give him the wrong idea again? How can he be so foolish to misinterpret a few mindless gestures?
Finally, he couldn’t help but turn around. Under the moonlight, Qi Yu’s eyes looked like green amber. He smiled, a look of understanding on his face. “Okay. I understand.”
This time, Chen Hexuan saw clearly: there were no more tears on that face.The cycle of “push and pull” continues. Chen Hexuan’s denial is his way of protecting his own pride and identity, but it is effectively severing the final thread of Qi Yu’s hope.