The moment the words left Shu Yang’s mouth, his heart sank. He instantly regretted them. Although Ruan Wei had defied him regarding the cub, it was hardly a grave offense, and there was no need for such vehemence. This kind of impulsiveness did not suit his persona as the Lord of Purple Star.
Ruan Wei, however, seemed truly wounded by the comment. His face turned deathly pale, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists, and after a long moment, his eyes began to redden.
Shu Yang: “…”
He felt a pang of remorse and grew deeply uncomfortable. Yet, unable to bring himself to apologize, he could only watch as Ruan Wei turned away, lowered his head as if to hide his expression, and hurried away.
With Ruan Wei gone, the cub seemed distressed. He tilted his head to look at Shu Yang, scrambling about as if to jump down, only to be firmly held back by Shu Yang.
“Stay still.” Shu Yang commanded, “Stay put.”
Having said this, Shu Yang set the cub down. After a moment of hesitation, he walked away. However, given his personality, he could not lower his head to apologize. He paced outside Ruan Wei’s door for a night but ultimately could not bring himself to speak the words he intended.
After a few days of lingering, Shu Yang decided to leave Penglai with the cub and Ruan Wei. When they departed, Shu Yang carried the cub, and the distance between him and Ruan Wei felt as vast as the Milky Way. Since they had quarreled, Shu Yang could no longer ask to ride Ruan Wei, nor would he dream of riding a small dragon, so he traveled slowly, riding the wind. His spiritual energy was insufficient for long journeys, so he flew in bursts, stopping frequently. Two days passed in this snail paced travel, and they had barely cleared the borders of Penglai.
Ruan Wei: “…”
He flew ahead, glanced back at Shu Yang and the cub preparing to rest, hesitated, and then doubled back. He descended and lowered his dragon body, flicking his tail to signal Shu Yang.
Shu Yang: “…”
He found it hard to believe that the usually vengeful Ruan Wei would be so magnanimous. He remained silent for a moment, as if verifying the offer, before asking, “You are letting me ride you?”
Ruan Wei nodded, then leaned over to nuzzle the cub. The cub responded by swatting him with his tail, causing Ruan Wei to withdraw sadly.
Shu Yang: “…”
He held the cub’s tail down and, after a moment’s thought, climbed onto Ruan Wei’s back. If the ride is free, why not take it?
Ever since Ruan Wei had nearly crushed his wrist, the cub had taken a dislike to him. Had Shu Yang not restrained him, the cub would likely have jumped off Ruan Wei’s back in a fit of pique. The three traveled in silence all the way to the Dragon Palace.
Upon arrival, Shu Yang resumed his discussions with Ruan Xiuzhen regarding the plan to lure the flower demon out. While everyone gathered in the front hall to attend to Shu Yang, Ruan Wei slipped away to his room. Hidden within his room was a secret chamber, one rarely discovered by others. As the door slid open at the touch of a switch, he carried the cub inside. The chamber was large, empty, and devoid of decoration, save for a lotus pedestal emitting a faint glow. Resting upon it was a dragon egg the size of a human head.
Ruan Wei set the cub on the floor. He watched with complex emotions as the cub curiously eyed the egg and began to crawl toward it. The lotus pedestal was tall; the cub climbed up using all his might. Once steady, he reached out with difficulty, wrapping his arms around the egg hovering in the air.
The egg was covered in intricate patterns, intersecting like rays of light, with a star shaped pattern at the apex, complex and beautiful. Unfortunately, it was already a dead egg. Despite the patterns, there was no radiance; the dragon spirit within had dissipated, and no life was being nurtured inside.
The reproductive rate of the Dragon clan was incredibly low, with an egg appearing only once every hundred years. These eggs were delicate, and the chance of a successful hatching was barely ten percent. Ruan Wei approached the cub, watching him roll the dead egg across the floor. After a while, he whispered, “Are you truly my cub?”
He had always assumed his own child had died long ago. The cub turned his back on Ruan Wei, refusing to acknowledge him or answer his question. Ruan Wei’s eyes grew even redder, and tears spilled forth, rolling onto the floor like pearls. “Are you still angry with me?”
Annoyed by the questioning, the cub became irritable and bit Ruan Wei’s hand, leaving deep teeth marks. The egg rolled away, hitting the corner of the wall with a crisp sound. Hearing this, the cub turned, picked up the fallen egg, and resumed playing with it, flicking the tip of his tail against the shell.
“You cannot play anymore, cub.” Ruan Wei wiped his tears as he sensed Shu Yang’s meeting might be concluding. He stood up, picked up the cub, and returned the egg to the lotus pedestal. “I am sorry, cub. Mother did not take good care of you.”
He stroked the cub’s head, whispering a promise: “Mother will never let you be hurt again.” The cub stared at him for a moment before crawling away, ignoring Ruan Wei’s attempt to hold him.
The cub no longer recognized Ruan Wei. Ruan Wei stood frozen, pacing the chamber neurotically before covering his face and weeping.
Shu Yang, however, remained entirely ignorant of what had transpired between Ruan Wei and the cub. That evening, after concluding his plans with Ruan Xiuzhen, intending for Ruan Wei to disguise himself as a dragon woman to lure the flower demon, he returned to the Dragon Palace, only to find the cub alone.
The cub, missing the egg, seemed listless, lying on the floor and flicking his tail, his dragon horns retracted.
“Why are you here alone?” Shu Yang asked, feeling strange. He picked up the cub and pinched his cheeks. “Where is Ruan Wei? Why is he not playing with you?”
The cub furrowed his delicate brows, opened his mouth, and made a series of unintelligible sounds, waving his arms as if trying to communicate. Finally, unable to speak, he fell silent.
“Fine, fine, stop. I cannot understand you.” Shu Yang rubbed his temples in frustration. “I must teach you to speak one day.”
He set the cub on the floor and gave his bottom a dismissive pat. “Stay here for a moment. I am going to find Ruan Wei. Do not run off.”
The cub crouched on all fours, watching Shu Yang leave, his eyes filled with sorrow. Shu Yang, indifferent to a child’s inner turmoil, went to find Ruan Wei. He had a favor to ask, so he had to swallow his pride and knock on Ruan Wei’s door.
“Ruan Wei? Ruan Wei?” He tapped on the door, eyeing the dim, yellowish candlelight within. “Are you asleep?”
The candlelight in the room flickered and died.
Shu Yang: “…”
A futile attempt at deception.
Since Ruan Wei did not wish to see him, Shu Yang chose not to press his luck, planning to return in the morning. However, it seemed Ruan Wei was intentionally hiding; for three days, Shu Yang saw no sign of him. Only then did it dawn on Shu Yang: Ruan Wei was still holding a grudge. And rightly so; even a saint would be angry after being scolded to his face.
With this realization, Shu Yang set aside his book and looked down at the cub, who was gnawing on an osmanthus cake. He brushed the crumbs from the cub’s mouth and muttered to himself, “You are certainly capable of holding a grudge.”
He picked up the cub, pinched his limbs, and said, “Then I suppose I have no choice but to coax him. After all, I have a favor to ask.”
In the middle of the night, Shu Yang stood before Ruan Wei’s door. This time, he did not knock—knowing Ruan Wei would not open it anyway—and pushed the door open. Ruan Wei likely had not expected Shu Yang to intrude, as there was no ward on the door. The room was dark, and Shu Yang squinted, trying to navigate by moonlight, only to nearly slip and fall over a ball rolling on the floor.
Shu Yang: “…”
He stabilized himself, took a deep breath, and picked up the culprit.
It was a pearl. It radiated a faint spiritual energy, clearly no ordinary object. Legend held that when a dragon wept tears of joy, they watered the people; when they wept in sorrow, the tears turned into pearls. Shu Yang looked down to see the floor covered in pearls, crowded so tightly there was no room to walk.
Is he that heartbroken? Shu Yang thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. He stepped more cautiously, kicking aside the pearls as he approached the bed. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and pulled back the curtains.
The bed was empty.
Shu Yang froze. Nobody here? Where did Ruan Wei go?
He stood in a daze, scanning the room, unable to imagine where Ruan Wei would go so late at night. Just as he debated searching elsewhere, a tiny gap in the wall caught his attention. Curious, he walked over and pressed his palm against it, feeling around until he heard a soft click. A section of the wall receded, and a dark secret chamber was revealed.
Shu Yang: “…”
He was not afraid of secret chambers; his life was built on daring. He crouched and stepped inside. The chamber was clearly designed for a dragon, its ceiling low and cramping his back until he reached the opening. He jumped down, supporting himself against the wall.
He had expected a treasure vault, but the chamber was dark and empty. As he scanned the room, he finally spotted a lotus pedestal in the center. The lotus pedestal was a treasure of the Queen Mother of the West, said to purify and nourish all living things, and it shared a bitter history with the Dragon clan. Why would it be lent to Ruan Wei?
Suspecting it was a fake, Shu Yang approached to inspect it. The moment his palm touched the wall of the closed pedestal, it bloomed. The rotating petals revealed a soft, glowing center, where a haggard looking ice dragon lay curled, clutching an egg that held no life or radiance.
Seeming to sense an intruder, Ruan Wei opened his eyes. He looked at Shu Yang with cold, blood red, needle thin pupils, then wearily buried his head again, pushing the egg closer to his body before closing his eyes once more. The egg in his arms had long since lost its life force; it was a dead egg. Even if Shu Yang had not seen it before, he knew there was no need to nourish a dead egg.
Why was Ruan Wei curling around it?
With this thought, Shu Yang reached out, intending to take the egg to see if there was anything unusual about it. His movement enraged Ruan Wei, who grew agitated, opening his mouth and biting down on the egg to prevent Shu Yang from taking it.
“Let me see it.” Shu Yang patted Ruan Wei’s head. “Let go.”
Ruan Wei glared at him, then slowly released his grip, backed away, and lay on the lotus pedestal, looking listless.
Shu Yang took the egg and channeled his star energy into it, holding it to the light. He confirmed there was no dragon spirit left inside. “This has long been a dead egg. Why do you insist on nursing it?”
Ruan Wei buried his head in his curled body, remaining silent. Seconds later, pearl after pearl appeared, slowly rolling to Shu Yang’s feet.