Shu Yang had never imagined he would marry a man. Strictly speaking, he felt he liked neither women nor men; he only liked himself. Therefore, he had never considered spending the rest of his life sharing glory and disgrace with anyone other than himself. If reality demanded that he marry, it would only be out of necessity or to utilize that person to achieve his own ends. Yet, why would he choose to marry this particular person to accomplish his goals? Was it even necessary? Shu Yang was deeply perplexed by his own actions.
To understand why he had resorted to marrying this person, he attempted to draw on a bit of his star energy to illuminate the surroundings and see the face before him. However, he forgot that he had not yet attained immortality and was completely unable to channel star energy.
Shu Yang: “…”
Just as he was about to rise and relight the candles, his wrist was grabbed by the person on the bed. They tumbled backward, rolling together onto the mattress. The figure did not seem intent on harming him; they merely lowered the bed curtains, leaned down, and kissed the corner of Shu Yang’s mouth.
Shu Yang’s eyes widened in shock. “…”
Having lived a life of celibacy for centuries, this single kiss left him flushed with heat, his ears burning uncontrollably. Just as he opened his mouth to scold the intruder, his lips were sealed by another kiss. The person rode atop him, pressing his wrists against the bed, licking at Shu Yang’s lips like a puppy.
Lying on his back and forced into this submissive position, Shu Yang struggled for a moment before flipping the person over and pinning them beneath him. He did not remember ever engaging in dual cultivation with anyone, but his movements in tearing away the garments felt as though he had done it countless times. Without any preparation, the person wrapped their arms around Shu Yang’s neck, pulling him close.
Shu Yang was drenched in sweat. The tip of his nose brushed against the person’s damp, dark hair, which clung to smooth, supple shoulders. A faint, refreshing fragrance—like snowflakes melting into water—wafted from them. The bed curtains swayed in the shadows, and the pale moonlight slanted into the room, casting an angular beam against the wall. Shu Yang remembered nothing of what followed; he acted entirely on instinct, unable even to catch a glimpse of the person’s face before plunging into the depths of gentleness, never to look back.
“Hah!”
A heavy, ragged breath rang out, loud enough to startle Shu Yang. He bolted upright, drenched in sweat. The person who had been resting their head on his lap slid to the floor with a thud.
Shu Yang, still unable to detach himself from Ruan Wei’s sea of consciousness, was filled with terror. It took a long while for him to recite a purification mantra in his mind, forcing himself to calm down. He had nearly drowned in Ruan Wei’s memories, engaging in intimacy with a stranger in that mental space. For someone who cultivated the Way of Ruthlessness, this was tantamount to losing a thousand years of cultivation in an instant.
Fortunately, he had only interacted with a stranger in the sea of consciousness and had only been slightly swayed by mortal desires. He had not seen the person’s face, meaning he had not truly fallen for a specific individual, leaving him a chance to recover. Shu Yang consoled himself with this thought.
However, he remained annoyed and restless. Looking down at the unconscious Ruan Wei on the floor, he felt a surge of displaced anger. He stood up and stepped directly over Ruan Wei’s body.
At that moment, Ruan Wei slowly began to wake. He was dazed, opening his eyes to see Shu Yang’s retreating back, and started in surprise. He opened his mouth to call out, but then seemed to remember something, and his eyes dimmed with desolation. He seemed aggrieved, but knowing it was not the time for such things, he stood up and called, “You…”
Shu Yang did not turn his head, walking further and further away. He was too preoccupied with the embarrassment and confusion of his inadvertent slip into mortal desire to notice Ruan Wei’s expression. He left, leaving Ruan Wei alone as a dragon in the sea of flowers, standing in a daze for a long time before slowly squatting down, hugging his own knees, and burying his face in his arms.
Because he had suffered such a setback in Ruan Wei’s sea of consciousness, Shu Yang felt stifled for several days. He locked himself in his room to meditate for seven days, and only after confirming that his Dao heart was as firm as steel did he venture out. He did not rush to see Ruan Wei, instead sauntering slowly into Qinglin’s courtyard.
The young dragon cub was awake, though he seemed quite gloomy. He sat before a potted orchid, cupping his face in his hands, flicking his tail absentmindedly. He had not yet learned to control his own body.
Seeing this, Shu Yang paused, then crept up behind him and stepped lightly on the cub’s tail. The cub could no longer flick it. He shook himself out of his daze, turning around with angry, wide eyes to see who was teasing him. But the moment he saw Shu Yang, his eyes brightened. He forgot his grudge instantly, reached out with two chubby little hands, and opened his mouth wide: “Ah!”
He wanted a hug.
Seeing the cub’s obedient demeanor, Shu Yang graciously lifted his foot. After intentionally pausing for a moment to watch the cub’s eyes droop in disappointment, he finally leaned down and scooped the cub up.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Shu Yang scolded while walking. “It is dirty.”
The cub tilted his head, seemingly failing to understand why Shu Yang was lecturing him, but he hugged Shu Yang’s neck tightly and rested his head against it, clearly content. He seemed very attached to Shu Yang.
Qinglin was busy with herbs in the garden. Seeing Shu Yang, Ruan Wei, and the cub together, he could not help but be startled. “Why have you all come?”
“I am here to retrieve him,” Shu Yang said before Ruan Wei could speak, as if wanting to clarify that he had not come with Ruan Wei. “How is the dragon cub’s condition?”
“External wounds are easy to treat, but internal ones are difficult,” Qinglin said, placing the herbs on a rack to dry. “This child suffers from a congenital deficiency.”
“A congenital deficiency?” Ruan Wei and Shu Yang asked in unison. “How is that possible?”
“How is it not?” Qinglin turned, casting a deliberate glance at Ruan Wei before quickly looking away. “If a dragon experiences deep sorrow or suffers grievous wounds while carrying an egg, it can lead to congenital deficiencies in the cub.”
“He suffered from headaches earlier because his horns were not growing. Under normal circumstances, dragon horns are like a child’s teeth; they grow naturally when the time is right, without any need for training. Most dragons do not experience such violent headaches.”
“These are symptoms of a congenital deficiency,” Qinglin explained.
“Can… can it be cured?” Ruan Wei appeared deeply worried, an expression that made Shu Yang glance at him with suspicion—he could not understand why Ruan Wei’s attitude toward the cub had shifted from indifference to excessive concern. “Is there a way?”
“If he were an ordinary dragon, yes,” Qinglin said. “But his bloodline is different, which affects his constitution. The means to heal such a deficiency are beyond the reach of a minor immortal like myself. Young Palace Master, you… you understand what I mean, do you not?”
Ruan Wei’s fingertips tightened against his sleeve. After a moment, he nodded silently, lowering his eyes. He asked nothing further, and Qinglin said nothing more. Shu Yang was left listening to their cryptic exchange, utterly bewildered.
Just as he was about to ask, the cub began to fuss again, reaching up to claw at his hair. Shu Yang intended to soothe him, but Ruan Wei stepped forward, took the cub from Shu Yang’s arms, and began whispering the secret to growing dragon horns into the cub’s ear.
The cub had wanted to cry, his dark eyes brimming with tears as he looked at Shu Yang, pleading for a hug. However, finding comfort in Ruan Wei’s arms, he eventually gave in, closed his eyes, and began to chant the mantra Ruan Wei taught him to stimulate the growth of his horns.
For other dragons, growing horns was as simple as a child losing a tooth, but for this cub, it was agonizing. As his scalp began to ache, he chanted the mantra while biting down hard on Ruan Wei’s shoulder. His eyes turned blood red, and the muscles in his jaw trembled with the force of his bite. His teeth pierced the fabric, sinking into Ruan Wei’s skin. Ruan Wei nearly cried out in pain, but he did not move.
His hair shivered until, with a cry of frustration, the cub finally pushed out his left dragon horn. It was tiny and tender, barely ten centimeters long, glowing with an icy blue light as it trembled in the wind. Growing that single horn had exhausted all of the cub’s strength. He lay limply on Ruan Wei’s shoulder, drenched in sweat.
Ruan Wei’s shoulder was shredded, his clothes stained red with blood. Yet, he seemed not to feel the pain, whispering softly to the cub. The cub responded with a languid flick of his tail against Ruan Wei’s waist, clearly impatient.
The sight of the fresh blood on Ruan Wei’s shoulder was jarring. Shu Yang frowned silently, stepped forward, and said to Ruan Wei, “Give the cub to me. Go tend to your wounds.”
Ruan Wei looked at Shu Yang for a moment, then shook his head. “This is a cub of the Dragon clan. I am the Young Palace Master; it is my responsibility to care for him.” The implication was clear: You are an outsider, so do not interfere.
Hearing this, Shu Yang felt an uncharacteristic prickle of irritation. Usually, he avoided contact with others to prevent the accumulation of karmic debt, which would disturb his Dao heart—this was why he intended to use Ruan Wei without growing close to him. He could play at being distant or intimate with Ruan Wei, summoning him and dismissing him at will, but Ruan Wei could not do the same to him.
Shu Yang was selfish and cold-blooded by nature. He demanded Ruan Wei’s obedience; whatever he ordered, Ruan Wei had to do. He would not tolerate Ruan Wei turning the tables and seizing control of their dynamic.
With this, Shu Yang stepped forward, snatched the cub from Ruan Wei’s arms, and pressed his hand against Ruan Wei’s other shoulder. “Go,” he said coldly.
He channeled a soft stream of spiritual energy over the wound on Ruan Wei’s shoulder. But Ruan Wei refused the gesture. He stared at Shu Yang for a moment, swatted his hand away, and backed off. “This is our Dragon clan’s cub. You have no right to interfere, and you are not capable of caring for him properly.”
Furthermore, you must not care for him. Ruan Wei did not voice the final thought, but Shu Yang, repeatedly rejected, grew furious. “I have no right?”
Shu Yang spoke each word with chilling clarity. “I was the one who rescued him from those traffickers. How do I have no right?”
Ruan Wei grew anxious, wanting to explain, but Shu Yang cut him off with a sneer. “And you, as the Young Palace Master, failed to protect your own kin, letting him fall into the mortal realm to suffer. Tell me, Ruan Wei, how exactly did you fulfill your duties?”
“…” Shu Yang had only meant to provoke Ruan Wei into tending to his wounds. To his surprise, Ruan Wei did not get angry. Instead, he looked as if he had been struck by lightning, standing frozen in place. Moments later, his complexion drained of all color, becoming deathly pale.
There was no life left in him.