The smell of wine and roses pervaded the dark, and ambiguous breaths were slowly exchanged. After a long time, Feng Qingyun squinted his eyes in the hazy light, asking out of nowhere: “Why are there so many fireflies in our corner?”
It was a vague and seemingly irrelevant question. For some reason, when Long Yin heard the word “our”, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “Because they are insects, naturally attracted to flowers,” he answered. “Who told my Little Rose to smell so fragrantly and lead them astray?”
It took quite a long time for Feng Qingyun to react, asking with a frown: “…When did I lead anyone astray?”
Long Yin felt his slow reactions were endearing, so he took advantage of his drunkenness to bow his head and kiss him again. “What do you think?”, he murmured.
Feng Qingyun’s reaction was indeed half a beat too slow. After a while, his ears finally reacted to the situation, turning red. Then, his throat started feeling dry, urging him to take a few more sips of wine.
At the moment, the fireflies that had been previously scattered all over the banquet began to gather in a corner, as if they had suddenly received an order to start some performance. However, Feng Qingyun was not at all interested. Instead, he remembered the place they had seen when they first arrived at the foot of Qingqiu Mountain, turning his head to ask Long Yin: “Do you want to see the Tong Tianpei?”
Although it seemed like a question on the surface, the real meaning of his words was: I want to see Tong Tianpei. Come and accompany me.
“Let’s go,” Long Yin immediately answered with a smile.
The two took advantage of the fact that everyone’s attention was concentrated on the fireflies, so they left quietly under the protection of the night. It could be said that Feng Qingyun chose a really good time. When they arrived in front of the Tong Tianpei, the place was empty, in stark contrast with the lively atmosphere from before.
Feng Qingyun stood at the foot of the Qingqiu Mountain, looking up at the pendant that flickered lightly in the dark, no different from any other ordinary piece of jade in the world.
More than that, there were varieties of colourful jade that were thousands of times brighter and transparent than it. The best it could do was to barely reflect Feng Qingyun’s silhouette, not even as clearly as a bronze mirror.
With his mind still fogged by drunkenness, Feng Qingyun got closer, thinking there was a problem with his eyes. However, the so-called celestial pendant was just an ordinary stone, bringing forward a profound sense of disappointment. Feeling slightly depressed, Feng Qingyun wanted to share his regret with Long Yin, but, as soon as he turned his head, he realized that something was deeply wrong…
…The jade pendant only reflected the figure of one person, completely devoid of Long Yin’s presence.
With a cold wind blowing, Feng Qingyun’s head awoke instantly. Scared out of his body, he suddenly turned to the right, only to see that his man was still there, quietly blinking at him.
In the moonlight, the thought that he was looking at an illusion of Long Yin infiltrated Feng Qingyun’s mind, as deadly as poison.
It was vanity. Vanity that gave birth to a heart demon. It was he who allowed the Dragon God to awake in his world, but, at the same time, Long Yin was born to an illusion, so he naturally had no reflection in the real world.
Feng Qingyun’s heart suddenly fell to the ground, like moonlight covering the earth, and for a moment, he could no longer distinguish dream from reality.
As for Long Yin, he seemed not to be disturbed at all, even having the heart to admit: “This stone is quite accurate. It knows that I don’t belong to this world.”
Hearing his words, Feng Qingyun blurted out what he feared the most in his heart: “Long Yin… Are you real?!”
“Why even ask that?” Long Yin asked, with a vague trace of restrained confusion in his voice.
“…Why not? I’m just thinking that everything is a dream of mine.” Feng Qingyun’s eyelashes trembled slightly before he continued: “What if you don’t exist at all…”
At the thought of that possibility, his chest felt more and more uncomfortable with each breath. Perhaps everything was fake, and even his rebirth was merely an illusion. Maybe, when he opened his eyes next time, he would see the collapsed sky outside and the barren cave that became his grave… All by himself, alone, without his dragon next to him.
Feng Qingyun felt the dark thoughts in his head were on the brink of spiraling out of control, but Long Yin was still in the mood to tease him, as infuriating as before: “Yeah, right. This Lord also hopes that the cowardly me from your previous life didn’t exist at all. Maybe he already disappeared before the world ended.”
Feng Qingyun suddenly closed his eyes.
“What if everything is an illusion?” Long Yin continued to mess around with him, filled with all kinds of bad intentions. “Then so what? You’re stuck with this version of me anyway, Little Rose.”
Who would have thought that Feng Qingyun would react like he had received the biggest blow in his life? Hearing Long Yin’s mocking tone, he suddenly opened his eyes and raised his hand to caress the jade pendant, asking: “Dear God, can you tell me if he came back with me?!”
Long Yin only said those words to make fun of the half-drunk man, never imagining that Feng Qingyun’s obsession was so deep. After taking a breath, he felt a sort of bitterness rising from his throat, too sharp to ignore. However, Feng Qingyun insisted on stepping on his heart, continuing to ask: “Long Yin… Was the person from my previous life also reborn?!”
The Demon Lord felt an unprecedented sense of anger, unable to preserve his gentle persona. He came forward and pinched Feng Qingyun’s cheek, asking: “What the–?”
However, before countless words filled with jealousy and paranoia could exit his mouth, the seemingly dull stone in front of them lit up. Long Yin leaned closer to the jade pendant and opened his eyes wide, feeling it was probably his turn to act half-drunk. After the light dimmed slightly, he saw a slow shadow emerging on the surface of the jade. It was Linshuang Sword Master, holding his sword and facing another man who was missing an arm.
Both Long Yin and Feng Qingyun were stunned.
The Linshuang Sword Master in the reflection looked more mature than the current Feng Qingyun, but his body also seemed to have experienced more wind, frost, snow, and rain, appearing both cold and lonely.
It was the Feng Qingyun of his previous life, battered and defeated, bravely facing the end of the world.
As for the man in front of him, he was resting his ruined body on the cold, stone wall. There was not that much difference between him and the current Demon Lord, only showing the vague shade of a slightly more moody temperament in his eyes and eyebrows. Obviously, he was in front of his so-called archenemy, but there was infinite trust and confidence on his face, as if a sort of victory that only belonged to them was close at hand.
Seeing him, Long Yin couldn’t help frowning, and a sense of being offended suddenly rose from the bottom of his heart. It was not the same scorn and contempt he felt each time he faced Mu Hanyang, but like a wolf, he was still subconsciously vigilant when meeting a worthy competitor.
As for Feng Qingyun, his entire attention fell on the jade pendant. After all, the blood on the missing arm of the demon was so bright, with such an intense shade of red that it made his eyes sting.
However, before the two of them could take a closer look, the reflection on the jade pendant turned blurry and distorted. In its stead, the clear faces of two people appeared for a second, and, this time, Long Yin was no longer absent.
The mirror-like surface reflected the astonishment between their eyebrows, but soon, that image too distorted, and the Tong Tianpei lost its shine, leaving only the vague outline of Feng Qingyun as it had been in the beginning.
The secluded little corner at the foot of Qingqiu Mountain fell into silence again, with only the bright moonlight daring to disturb the peace. Feng Qingyun looked back and blinked at the frowning man behind him, asking with a trembling tone: “You are…”
“Where did his arm go?” Long Yin asked, showing zero intentions of linking himself to that version in Feng Qingyun’s memories. Instead, he sneered and declared: “Looks just like a bereaved dog.”
“Long Yin, Tong Tianpei means that…” Feng Qingyun looked at him, blurting in both astonishment and drunkenness. “You’re back too.”
“It’s just a broken stone, useless for years. Do you believe it?” Of course, Long Yin understood why he was so impatient, and yet… He still seemed unwilling to let Feng Qingyun treat all those versions of him as one and the sameperson.
“…I know it. You just need to remember,” Feng Qingyun mumbled with lowered eyes. He had always been stubborn. In the past, he covered it under the reputation of being the Linshuang Sword Master, but now that he was drunk and no longer belonged to the Righteous Path, the stubbornness in his bones was unapologetically revealed. “I knew it… I knew it from the beginning.”
“What’s there to remember, you–” Long Yin only finished his words halfway, meeting Feng Qingyun’s blinking eyes in the moonlight. That look shook him to the core, so he immediately bit his tongue.
No one could resist Feng Qingyun when he was that full of self-righteousness. So, humoring him was…
…Maybe it was okay.
“…Fine, this Lord will try to remember,” Long Yin seemed to admit. “You see? I’m here now, and I’m obviously real. Are you happy now?”
So it’s fine to treat the me in your past life and the current me as one person.
Feng Qingyun was still drunk, so it took a long time for him to understand the hidden meaning in Long Yin’s words. In the end, he just looked up and said: “…Yes.”
“What’s wrong now, Ancestor?” Seeing he was still despondent, the Demon Lord’s heart jumped, and even the way he addressed him changed. “Are you feeling sorry for me?”
Feng Qingyun lowered his eyes, not daring to look at him. For a moment, his eyelashes started trembling, just like he was about to cry from guilt. “In my past life… I crushed the hairpin you gifted,” he started. “But now I know you took such a long time to carve it…”
Long Yin paused at those words, but deep down, a strange and dark sense of satisfaction rose within him. His gaze fell on the rose hairpin nestled in Feng Qingyun’s hair, slightly crooked from the effects of drunkenness, and he couldn’t help but think: The hairpin you gave, he smashed without hesitation. Even if you died for him, haunting his thoughts endlessly, so what? In the end, you’d still end up forgotten like Mu Hanyang[mfn]Here, Long Yin is talking to the “him” in Feng Qingyun’s past life. At this point in the story, he has no memories of what happened before, so he finds it hard to accept that the past version of him is also him, if that makes any sense. You can look at it this way: Long Yin started life as the Dragon God in some illusion world, forever doomed to remain there. However, Feng Qingyun’s sacrifice allowed him to regain freedom, following him into his world. This is a cultivation novel, so there are probably multiple higher and lower realms. So it makes sense to travel from one to another. As soon as Long Yin woke up, he went to look for his “bride”, the one who freed him, only to arrive at Feng Qingyun’s Dao ceremony with another man, face to face with a “bride” who did not recognise him at all. Seeing him happy, he chose to back off and not interfere with his life, thinking Feng Qingyun would be happier without him. However, in their current lifetime, Long Yin finds out that Feng Qingyun continued to live in pain and misery for the next 300 years, so his “cowardly” choice to leave back then ended up hurting his beloved instead. So he’s unwilling to accept the fact that the cowardly man who kept his mouth shut and allowed Feng Qingyun to suffer endlessly is, in fact, still him, preferring to distance himself from that. He treats that “him” as just an unfortunate bastard who made a mistake, so he deserved to die without anything.[/mfn].
But he knew better than to say such things aloud. If he did, Feng Qingyun would surely be angry.
“It’s nothing,” Long Yin said, putting on a half-hearted smile while playing his part. “But I’ve lost my memory. I don’t remember. So… Why did you crush that hairpin? Did you hate me that much in our past life?”
”…It wasn’t hate,” Feng Qingyun replied softly. “It was because you gave me a peach blossom hairpin. I thought you were mocking me for never being able to bloom.”
Hearing his words, Long Yin didn’t laugh like Feng Qingyun expected. Instead, his expression darkened slightly, becoming unreadable. After a moment, he reached up and removed the crooked rose hairpin from Feng Qingyun’s hair. “You’re about to bloom,” the Demon Lord said softly, adjusting Feng Qingyun’s hair before sliding it back into his bun. “Our Little Palace Master is no longer the little rose that couldn’t bloom for six hundred years.”
Feng Qingyun froze for a beat before flushing with a mix of shame and anger.
”…So you were mocking me!”
“How could that be called mockery?” For the first time in probably ever, Long Yin didn’t take the chance to tease him further, though it was tempting. Instead, he looked at him seriously, saying: “Even without my memories, I know this much. The past me must have felt heartache.”
Feng Qingyun was momentarily stunned. Bathed in the pale moonlight, he looked at Long Yin for a long time. Then, suddenly and without warning, he repeated solemnly: “Long Yin… Once I’ve bloomed, I’ll repay you for everything I owe.”
Long Yin paused at that, raising an eyebrow. In the end, he was left with one thought, barely forming on the tip of his tongue: “This Lord doesn’t need your thanks. Between us, being indebted is just how it’s meant to be.” And yet, before he could speak, Feng Qingyun suddenly shifted the topic: “But… During the blood deed period, you’d better not go too far!”
Forming a second blood pact and what kind of effect it would have on them was something neither had ever spoken of, left as just a silent understanding. Yet now, under the influence of wine, Feng Qingyun brought it up at last.
Long Yin’s lips curled faintly, his expression dark and unreadable in the moonlight. “Already thinking about that, are we… What, have you figured out how you’re going to bloom?”
“Not yet.” Feng Qingyun shook his head while answering. “But judging by how confident the fox patriarch looks, I trust him.” He said it with such straightforward, unguarded trust that it didn’t seem fake at all and yet… Long Yin still narrowed his eyes slightly.
How pitiful, he thought. His little rose was barely a few hundred years old, not even understanding what blooming truly meant for a spiritual plant… But he still tried to face it bravely. The Demon Lord was full of thoughts in silence, but on the surface, he merely smiled and steered the conversation back: “In that case, what exactly counts as ‘going too far’ to you, Little Palace Master?”
Feng Qingyun’s breath caught, and he pursed his lips before replying: ”…Well, if you really do something excessive, I’ll have the chance to get my revenge once the backlash hits! You’d best think carefully before acting!”
“Oh~ so how does my Little Rose plan on taking revenge on this Lord?” Long Yin asked shamelessly, raising a brow. “Are you going to torture me to death, like what you righteous cultivators do to demons in rumors?”
For some reason, Feng Qingyun couldn’t bear hearing the word “death” coming out of his mouth, frowning immediately. “If you can’t speak properly, why don’t you just shut up?!”, he raged.
Long Yin chuckled. “Alright, alright. I was just teasing you. I won’t say it anymore, there’s no need to get so angry…
…Besides, how could this Lord ever bear to bully you?”, he added smoothly. “I’ll just… Help you bloom, that’s all.”
Even drunk, Feng Qingyun knew better than to trust that infuriating mouth of his. He shot him a glare and turned to leave, only for Long Yin to follow behind with a laugh.
………………………..
By the time they returned to the banquet, Bai Ruolin had already been whisked away by her new fox friends to rest inside. However, the festivities were still far from over… In fact, they’d only just reached the peak. Lotus-leafed platters were dancing through the air, each filled with countless cups of wine. Guests could take whatever they liked, but the rule was: once you took a cup, you had to finish it. If you couldn’t, then you had to perform to entertain the crowd.
Because of that, Feng Qingyun didn’t dare take even a single cup. But of course, no rule in the entire world applied to the Demon Emperor. Long Yin insisted on tasting everything, and once he found something delicious, he tried every trick to coax Feng Qingyun into drinking it.
Feng Qingyun had no intention of drinking at first. But ever since he’d learned that Long Yin had also been reborn, even if without his memories, his mood had inexplicably improved quite a bit.
As it turned out, beneath heaven and earth…
He was not alone.
However… To follow him, his man must have paid some price in front of the heavenly Dao. Perhaps that price was, in fact, his memories.
With that thought, the cup of wine Long Yin had been holding to Feng Qingyun’s lips suddenly seemed to have no reason left to be refused. After all, he was always easy to sway once he softened, and now, back at the banquet for only a short while, Feng Qingyun had already been coaxed into downing several more cups.
Just before the alcohol hit him hard and fast, the fox patriarch finally finished his duties for the festival, approaching them with a wine cup in hand. There was also someone else following close behind, a beautiful woman dressed in flowy green robes.
When the two looked up, the woman bowed slightly in greeting. “I am Feng Heju,” she said with a gentle smile. “My Dao companion is a peach blossom spiritual plant, and under Lord Qing Luo’s orders, I’ve come to meet you both.”
“Though everyone gives me face and calls me ‘Lord’, I’m not even worthy enough to be a demon general,” Qing Luo added with a casual wave of his hand. “And since my original form is a beast, I know little about spiritual plants. While the fox clan’s art of illusion might help unlock the path to blooming, the how and when of it all… That needs someone with experience to explain.”
With his head already woozy from wine, Feng Qingyun tried to sit upright as he said: “Thank you, Patriarch. You’ve gone to such trouble… Please, both of you, have a seat.”
Demonic cultivators didn’t stand on ceremony, so Qing Luo and the green-robed woman didn’t decline, sitting down at once. Until that moment, Long Yin had remained silent, but as soon as they sat down, he suddenly asked: “Fellow Cultivator Feng, are you a spiritual plant as well?”
Feng Heju straightened immediately at the question, her posture sharpening with tension as she hurried to reply: “I wouldn’t dare let Your Majesty call me a fellow cultivator, that’s far too great an honor! I’m not a spiritual plant, but when it comes to blooming, based on my experience… Sometimes an outsider sees more clearly than those caught in the center of it. I might even understand more than my Dao companion.”
“No need to be nervous,” Long Yin said, waving a hand dismissively after he heard enough to understand her worry. “This Lord wasn’t doubting your ability. Just curious what kind of existence a spiritual plant would choose as a partner… Nothing more.”
Feng Heju relaxed slightly and gave a small, elegant smile. “My original form is an insect,” she answered. “I imagine that with my Lord’s insight, both of you might have already guessed what kind.”
The insect clans weren’t as secretive about their true forms as the spiritual plants, so her openness made sense.
Long Yin raised his cup and glanced toward Feng Qingyun with a sly look, asking: “Little Palace Master, how about a bet?”
Just as drunk as before, Feng Qingyun was still a beat too slow while responding. “What kind of bet?”
“Who can guess her original form first. The loser drinks.”
Feng Qingyun didn’t say yes or no. Instead, he turned to study Feng Heju’s appearance, saying after a moment: “Miss, may I ask… Are you a dragonfly?”
The woman chuckled, quick to admit: “Your Highness is as perceptive as they say.”
“Looks like the Second Palace Master won,” Qing Luo also laughed. “Your Majesty, time to drink.”
“He never said he accepted the bet,” Long Yin immediately tried to backpedal. “That doesn’t count…” But in the next second, Feng Qingyun raised a cup to Long Yin’s lips, staring him down. “They say a gentleman always keeps his word.”
“But I’m no gentleman,” Long Yin answered while arching a brow. “Who was doubting this Lord’s honesty just a moment ago?”
Feng Qingyun narrowed his eyes, and under the flush of alcohol, he dropped all pretense, his voice turning low and direct: “Are you drinking or not?!” That slender hand holding the wine cup looked as if it were carved from frost and moonlight, paler and more radiant than even the glow of the moon itself.
Long Yin’s breath caught for a moment, accepting his fate on the spot. However, his words were still coated in a layer of pride: “If this Lord says he doesn’t want to drink, what will the Little Palace Master do? Force it down my throat?”
If anyone else were to overhear his words, they might have thought the Demon Emperor was angered. Even the clever and perceptive fox patriarch beside them flinched slightly at the tone. But in truth, Long Yin was only being reflexively stubborn. If Feng Qingyun was willing to coax him just a little bit more… Forget wine, he was willing to down poison with the same expression!
And yet, Feng Qingyun said nothing. Not a single word. He simply raised the wine cup, pressed it to Long Yin’s lips, and tipped it in.
This time around, no demonic Qi was concealing their actions. Every demon at the banquet witnessed the scene, forced into stunned silence, with Qing Luo even widening his eyes in disbelief.
As Feng Qingyun lowered the cup, his pale, slender fingers brushed carelessly across Long Yin’s lips as he muttered in annoyance: “Refuse the offered wine, and you’ll get the punishment cup instead!”
No one dared even breathe too loudly.
The Demon Emperor, who was known for his volatile temper, also went quiet for three seconds, but then unexpectedly smiled. “This Lord has always preferred punishment cups,” he said, voice low and amused. “If the Little Palace Master doesn’t believe me, why not offer another?”
There were so many types of men in the world. Some of them grew furious at a banquet because their friend dared to read a letter out loud, preferring to destroy decades of heartfelt feelings with their own hands rather than risking a slight dent in their reputation…
…While others were forcibly fed wine before a crowd, but still remained calm.
The contrast should have stirred up waves of memories, but Feng Qingyun, at some point, had already forgotten about the first kind. In the end, he only turned his head slightly, still a little dizzy with wine, and said with faint politeness: “Forgive us for the spectacle.”
“Not at all, not at all!” the fox patriarch replied warmly, recovering quickly. “The Fairy Wine Festival is a time for joy and friendship. On behalf of the demon clans, I offer a toast to you both for traveling all this way to join us!”
After another round of pleasantries and a few more drinks, the topic finally shifted to the true reason for their gathering. Feng Qingyun quickly realized why Qing Luo waited until everyone was pleasantly buzzed to broach serious matters. Their minds needed to be at ease.
“Long ago, my husband too could not bloom,” said Feng Heju. “In truth, it’s not just him. Many spiritual plants struggle to bloom, but most don’t understand why or perhaps… They don’t want to understand it.”
“They don’t want to?” Feng Qingyun asked with confusion.
“Yes.” Feng Heju nodded gently. “Blooming signifies a flower demon’s full maturity and flourishing. But those who carry emotional entanglements… They naturally find it difficult to blossom.” As she spoke, she poured another cup for Feng Qingyun before continuing: “So… what is it, deep within Your Highness’s heart, that you can’t get past? What is it you fear… Or dread… About blooming?”
Feng Qingyun froze.
He was afraid… Of blooming?!
He wanted nothing more than to bloom and end that damned blood deed already! How could he possibly fear it?!
The first word that sprang to his mind was absurd.
But Long Yin lowered his gaze, his eyes landing quietly on him. Under that gaze, Feng Qingyun instinctively tried to deflect: “I’m not afraid—”
“There’s no need to answer now,” Feng Heju interrupted softly. “Perhaps, once Lord Qing Luo’s illusion takes effect, the answer will become clear.”
“Your Highness, I only came to tell you this: no matter what you see, you need to face yourself in the dream. Whether it’s pain or joy, desire or disgust… Those are your truest feelings. If even in your dreams you lie to yourself… Then I’m afraid you truly will never bloom.”
Her words were gentle, but Feng Qingyun understood them clearly. For spiritual plants, blooming was meant to be as natural as growing up.
And to be unable to bloom… It could only mean one thing: he had something he couldn’t let go of.
He wasn’t being honest, not even with himself.
The fox clan’s art of illusion would not directly cause him to bloom in the dream, but rather helped him find the root of the problem. Whether he would bloom or not ultimately depended on whether he could face his own heart.
Having understood all of that, Feng Qingyun stopped speaking. After a long silence, he raised the rest of the wine and sincerely toasted them: “Thank you, both of you.”
In his words, he only thanked the two of them, never thanking Long Yin, the man who had accompanied him the entire time. It was obvious that with Feng Qingyun’s upbringing, he wouldn’t deliberately overlook such a thing. It was just that in his heart, there were clear distinctions between closeness and distance, between insiders and outsiders.
As for who had been placed close to his heart, and who was left out of it, it was clear at a glance. Qing Luo, being of the fox clan, could see through the twists and turns inside one’s heart at a glance. In fact, he might have understood Feng Qingyun’s thoughts even more clearly than he did himself, but chose not to expose it, only raising his cup with a smile: “Your Highness is too kind.”
Everyone drank a few more rounds at the banquet, and by the time the celebration fully ended, it was already deep into the night.
The fox clan’s art of illusion was one of their lowest-level innate techniques, with no elaborate chanting or ceremony required. When Feng Qingyun returned to the residence that the fox patriarch had specially prepared for him and Long Yin, he was only asked to lie on the bed. Then, using the tip of one of his tails, Qing Luo gently swept across his forehead, saying: “Please enter the dream, Your Highness.”
Feng Qingyun instinctively wanted to resist the drowsiness, but Long Yin, sitting beside him, said: “Sleep. I’m here.” At his words, Feng Qingyun finally let go and closed his eyes, fully embracing the illusion. And in the very last moment before his consciousness faded completely, he managed, in his drunken state, to tell himself just one thing:
I must bloom.
Only when he finally bloomed would his man stop bleeding for him.
So no matter what the truth inside his heart was, he must bloom.
That single thought became the only thing Feng Qingyun remembered in the dream. And then, he completely lost consciousness, knowing nothing more.
It was said that the dreams brought on by the fox clan were mostly sweet dreams, so those who entered them often did not wish to wake. But as the dream descended, the first thing Feng Qingyun felt was not joy or delight, but pain.
Agonizing pain.
Pain that pierced him to the bone, carving deeply into his soul. It felt like ice freezing inside broken bones, chilling Feng Qingyun’s back, so painful that he nearly lost all awareness. It was only after a long time that he finally recognized what the familiar yet distant pain was…
It was the pain of severing his branches and ripping his buds. The pain that he had long ago deliberately sealed away in the depths of memory, thinking he had already forgotten.
By the time he finally began to adapt to it, what rose in Feng Qingyun’s mind was not the confusion that followed agony, but a sudden clarity, as if the clouds had parted…
Of course, it hurt.
How could it not?!
He cut away one branch after another, ripped one tender bud after another, so how could it not hurt? But what did it have to do with blooming?
Of course, it had. After all, blooming meant growing a new organ and with it, a new source of pain. Since every single one of his newly sprouted buds was plucked, and every new branch never lived long enough to reach maturity, then, of course, his flowers were doomed to the same fate.
So he did not dare to bloom.
If he bloomed, the flower bud would be picked, the petals stripped away, even the stamen would be gouged out by someone, and the pain… The pain would only become even more intense.
Everything he had suffered in the past, he had only endured silently, never daring to complain, thinking that the source of pain was “righteous”. He never dared to question it, since it was a type of fact taught to him since childhood.
Sacrificing oneself was the duty of a righteous cultivator. If he wanted to grow from monster to divine being, he needed the awareness of ‘benefiting all living beings’ and ‘dying for the greater good.’
One must not complain, even less, live with regrets. And yet, though his mind could be indoctrinated, what was carved into his bones could not. Even the most ignorant of larvae knew to seek benefit and avoid harm, let alone a demon who had already taken human form.
So even though he believed his pain was “correct,” even though he genuinely was willing, like the gods and bodhisattvas of legend, to offer his own flesh to save the world…
Feng Qingyun still could not stop that deep subconscious warning that repeated over and over:
Do not bloom.
You must not bloom.
No one will protect your flowers. Not even you.
So the truth was absurd, almost childish, with no grand reason behind it.
He was just a little rose who, because he was afraid of pain, didn’t dare to bloom.
………………………………..
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