This was already the countless time Shu Yang had seen Ruan Wei cry. Ruan Wei seemed prone to tears at the slightest word from Shu Yang. Although he always presented a fierce, aggressive front to others, Shu Yang knew that most of the time, he was merely bluffing.
Was this egg, which had nothing to do with him, truly worth such sorrow?
With this thought, Shu Yang leaned down and gently poked Ruan Wei, his tone softening unconsciously. “Young Palace Master? Young Palace Master?”
Ruan Wei flicked his tail but did not look up.
“Alright, do not be sad.” Shu Yang felt goosebumps rise at the sound of his own forced, gentle tone. He vowed that he had never spoken to anyone with such tenderness before. “I was wrong a few days ago. I spoke ill. Will that suffice?”
Ruan Wei buried his head deeper.
Seeing that Ruan Wei remained unresponsive, Shu Yang had no choice but to lift him from the lotus pedestal and place him onto his lap. Ruan Wei curled himself into a ball. Shu Yang stroked his tail and then his scales, which bristled under his touch. Ruan Wei lifted his head, glaring at Shu Yang with bloodshot eyes, his tail slapping rhythmically against Shu Yang’s leg in a display of anger.
“Alright, Young Palace Master, do not be angry.”
Shu Yang let Ruan Wei coil around his arm, enduring the tingling itch of cold dragon scales against his skin, his voice dropping to a low, soothing murmur. “The Dragon clan will have more eggs in the future.”
Yes, the Dragon clan would have new eggs. But Ruan Wei knew in his heart that there would never be another egg between him and Shu Yang. Whether or not the cub was truly the biological child of Shu Yang and Ruan Wei was, in fact, irrelevant. What mattered was that from the moment that cub appeared, Ruan Wei felt he had found a tether. He would not intentionally verify the child’s lineage, for if it were not his, it would only drive Ruan Wei to further ruin.
He knew their original egg had long ago become a dead egg, its dragon spirit lost, preventing it from ever hatching into a complete dragon. Yet, regardless of the truth, the child now beside him could only be his own, never another’s.
At some point, he had shifted back into human form, sitting in Shu Yang’s lap, his eyelids reddening. Shu Yang had wanted him to get down, but seeing the tears still streaming from Ruan Wei’s eyes, his heart ultimately softened.
“Do not cry.”
He reached out and wiped the tears away. “There will be new eggs.”
Ruan Wei shook his head vigorously. His lips moved as if to speak, but he ultimately remained silent, merely lowering his eyes, looking inexplicably pitiful.
Shu Yang paused, then reached out to cup Ruan Wei’s face. Ruan Wei had once had a somewhat round, baby-faced appearance, but for some reason, he had lost weight; the baby fat was gone, leaving behind a sharp, defined chin. He was beautiful, yet less endearing than before.
Shu Yang could not help but pinch Ruan Wei’s cheek. As Ruan Wei began to look agitated, Shu Yang spoke softly. “Ruan Wei.” His tone was indifferent. “It is merely a dragon egg.”
The implication was clear: it was not worth destroying himself over a dead dragon egg. While the Dragon clan’s fertility was low, it did not mean there would never be new life. Shu Yang had intended to comfort Ruan Wei and perhaps make amends for his earlier blunder, but to his surprise, this comment caused Ruan Wei, who had just been shedding tears, to explode.
“That is not merely a dragon egg!” Ruan Wei’s eyes widened, his pupils narrowing. “That is the only dragon egg in this world!”
It was the only dragon egg that belonged to him and Shu Yang!
“…” Shu Yang did not fully grasp the subtext and frowned in confusion. “Is this dead dragon egg that important to you?” He suddenly had an epiphany. “This dead dragon egg… did you give birth to it?”
Ruan Wei: “…”
He stared at Shu Yang, then turned his face away, admitting it quietly: “Yes.”
Shu Yang fell silent for a long time before saying, “My condolences.”
Ruan Wei: “…”
He cast his eyes downward, looking at Shu Yang’s calm, emotionless face. After a moment, for reasons unknown, tears welled up in his eyes again. But this time, they did not fall; they pooled in his gaze, and his lips curved upward as if in a smile. He watched Shu Yang, tilting his head, smiling for a moment before his expression flattened and he turned away once more.
“I ask you this,” Ruan Wei said, wiping his eyes frantically, his voice soft. “If it were you, which do you think is more important: to sever all ties and achieve immortality in eternal solitude, or to spend a lifetime together with the person you love, only to grow old and wither away after a hundred years?”
“…” Shu Yang remained silent for a moment before replying, “Achieving immortality is, of course, more important.”
He said, “I have only one goal in this life, and I will never stray from it.”
“Never change?” Ruan Wei asked.
“Never change,” Shu Yang replied. “Why do you suddenly ask this?”
“Nothing,” Ruan Wei said. “Then, if one day you fell in love with someone…”
“Impossible.” Shu Yang frowned, finding the premise absurd, and answered instantly: “I could never fall in love with anyone.”
“…” Ruan Wei paused, struggling for a few seconds to digest Shu Yang’s words. “If you had once been married to someone, that would not mean you loved them, correct?”
“…” Shu Yang felt a jolt.
Wait. Is Ruan Wei truly posing a hypothetical, or is he saying this on purpose?
Shu Yang had indeed seen himself married in Ruan Wei’s sea of consciousness. In theory, Ruan Wei knew he had been married. But the problem was that he was currently disguised; did Ruan Wei recognize him, or not? Was he testing him, or were these just idle words?
After a moment of internal struggle, Shu Yang answered cautiously. “Correct.”
He continued, “I have never considered marriage with anyone. If such a day were to come, it would surely be for the sake of utility, with no true feelings involved.”
He was unapologetically, clearly, and thoroughly cold-blooded.
Those same words seemed to echo in his ears, crossing the span of a century’s worth of longing and memory, rushing toward him like a gale. But Ruan Wei, oh Ruan Wei, you believed him in everything else; why, for this one statement, regardless of how many times he had said it, did you never believe him?
Ruan Wei stared at Shu Yang’s face in a daze, then clutched his chest, vomiting a mouthful of blood. His reflection in Ruan Wei’s pupils was Shu Yang’s own startled face, before Ruan Wei slowly collapsed, deathly pale.
“Ruan Wei!”
“Excessive emotional fluctuation led to a reverse flow of qi. It is not a serious illness; he will recover after some rest.”
The physician packed his kit, bowed to Ruan Xiuzhen and Shu Yang, and departed. Ruan Wei lay on the bed, pale and restless, muttering someone’s name in his sleep. His voice was too soft for Shu Yang to make out.
Ruan Xiuzhen lowered her head, looked at Ruan Wei, sighed quietly, and left without a word.
The cub lay by Ruan Wei’s bed, his tail flicking rhythmically against the floor, his eyes darting between Ruan Wei and Shu Yang.
“He is fine.” Shu Yang patted the cub’s head. “He will wake soon.”
The cub furrowed his sparse brows, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded, ceasing his tail flicking.
Seeing the cub settled, Shu Yang walked outside. “Clan Leader.”
He did not know whether he should tell Ruan Xiuzhen that he had discovered Ruan Wei’s dragon egg. After all, Ruan Wei had no formal bond with any dragon, so by any standard, this was a pregnancy out of wedlock. “I have a matter I am unsure if I should bring up.”
“Is the Immortal Lord referring to the dragon egg?”
Ruan Xiuzhen knew Shu Yang had carried Ruan Wei out of the secret chamber and must have seen the egg. She offered a smile, though it was filled with infinite bitterness. “There is no need to avoid the topic with you… My child did indeed once give birth to a dragon egg.”
“…” Shu Yang felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of guilt.
He could not fathom why he felt guilty. He adjusted his composure and offered a polite, distant smile. “Clan Leader, rest assured, I shall not speak of this.”
“Hmm.” Ruan Xiuzhen looked toward the room, her gaze resting on the cub’s tail, her expression darkening.
Under Shu Yang’s calm gaze, Ruan Xiuzhen remained silent for a beat. She withdrew her gaze and said, “Immortal Lord. Are you curious as to why I seem indifferent to my child giving birth to a dragon egg?”
Shu Yang replied, “A little.”
Ruan Xiuzhen’s smile grew even more bitter. Finally, she gave up on smiling entirely, turning her face away as she spoke in a low voice. “In truth, I, along with his sister, once warned him. I told him that he and the child’s father were not on the same path. The child’s father possesses a status of great nobility, worlds apart from ours. With Ruan Wei’s fate, it was impossible to give birth to a bloodline of that status. The result would only be a backlash, harming himself.”
Shu Yang nodded, expressing his understanding. “And then?”
“But Ruan Wei is stubborn and would not listen,” Ruan Xiuzhen said. “The egg that was born was indeed a dead egg. Since then, his character has changed completely, leading him to this state: moody, volatile, and terrifyingly paranoid.”
“Does the father know of the egg?” Shu Yang asked. “Why did you not tell him?”
“As I said, the father has a status of great nobility and is not on our path.”
Ruan Xiuzhen’s expression was complex; Shu Yang could not decipher the meaning in her eyes. “After all, the father of the child is an immortal.”
Shu Yang was stunned, his composure slipping. “…”
Whether Ruan Xiuzhen noticed Shu Yang’s unnatural expression, she continued, “Since ancient times, humans and immortals have not intermarried; immortals and divine beasts likewise. The path to immortality is difficult, requiring a powerful, firm mind and exceptional talent. To secretly give birth to an immortal’s seed, attempting to force a connection to the Celestial Realm, is considered a grave crime, interpreted as seeking a shortcut to immortality. It invites destruction by the Heavenly Dao.”
“To protect my child’s life, I initially tried to conceal it as best I could. When we discovered the egg was dead, it saved my child from the excruciating pain of me having to destroy it first.”
In other words, Ruan Wei had committed a grave crime. Had the Heavenly Dao discovered it, not only would Ruan Wei have lost his life, but he could have dragged down the entire Dragon clan. As his mother, Ruan Xiuzhen had only been able to shield him. She could never have revealed the truth; had the Heavenly Dao been alerted, it would have been suicide.
“I understand,” Shu Yang said. “Clan Leader, rest assured, I will not reveal this.”
Ruan Xiuzhen nodded, then shook her head and sighed as she walked away, leaving Shu Yang alone in his thoughts.
So, Ruan Wei’s lover was an immortal.
Shu Yang felt a sense of complexity after receiving this startling information. Which immortal? There had been many immortals undergoing trials over the past millennium; Shu Yang could not fathom who would have such a past with Ruan Wei. Unfortunately, he was currently in the mortal realm. He could not return to the Celestial Realm until he had recovered the other stars, so he had to leave the matter be. He would have liked to have cleared up this mystery.
He was not usually a meddlesome person, but…
Forget it, Shu Yang thought.
Out of pity for Ruan Wei’s plight, when he eventually returned to the Celestial Realm, he would ask for him. He would inquire of that deadbeat immortal who abandoned his wife and child: did he still remember the Dragon clan’s Young Palace Master who had once shared a night of passion with him and even bore him an immortal seed?