Chapter 114

If Ling Qingxiao had approached her with his usual coldness and force, Luo Han might have ignored him. But his vulnerability—it was exactly that which unraveled her.
Just one quietly murmured, “Let’s make up,” and all her resolve melted.
Even though she wasn’t in the wrong, she still felt a guilt that gnawed at her, as if she’d committed some unforgivable sin.
Her tone softened. “This wasn’t a fight. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just...think we have differences.”
“There won’t be any differences,” Ling Qingxiao said. “No matter what you want, I’ll do it for you.”
And that—that was the real issue between them.
Luo Han found it hard to explain. She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. “A relationship is about mutual effort. Give and take. It can’t just be one person constantly yielding. If you have something on your mind, tell me. If I don’t know what you’re thinking, how can I make the right choices?”
“I want us to trust each other. To be happy—not tired.”
It was exactly because he felt such happiness and trust with her...that Ling Qingxiao feared losing it all the more.
Luo Han had grown up in a world filled with warmth and affection. Her parents might have been distant, but her life had been abundant, her studies successful, her relationships full of support. She had always received positive feedback, and thus never feared giving her heart.
But for Ling Qingxiao...it had never been that simple.
His father had always been biased. His birth mother doted on another child. His foster mother harbored only resentment toward him. All his life, he had known nothing but the law of the jungle—cold, cruel, and loveless. Not once had he received warmth.
This—this was the first time he’d truly felt love and support.
He once thought himself immune to affection, that he didn’t need it. But once he had it...he realized—how could anyone not crave love?
Humans were born to live among others. To yearn for love was in their very bones. He was like a man drowning in a frozen lake. After floundering in the cold for so long, the moment he seized a lifeline, his first instinct was to cling with everything he had—so tightly, in fact, that he might drag the rescuer down with him.
He feared anything that might break this fragile peace, which was why he’d made decisions behind Luo Han’s back. He had forcefully resolved the matter of the heart demon and the Demon God, without ever telling her. He thought that as long as he said nothing, as long as he dealt with the chaos alone, then nothing would disturb their love. Everything would remain perfect. Safe.
But that wasn’t a real solution. Even Ling Qingxiao knew it. The heart demon wouldn’t disappear—it would only fester until it devoured him whole.
After all, a heart demon was the manifestation of one’s deepest fear. And his fear...was losing her.
There was no answer to this dilemma. Even if given another chance, Ling Qingxiao would still choose the same path. He tightened his arms around Luo Han, holding her so firmly that it started to hurt. She winced slightly.
She couldn’t bear to see him like this—so desperate, so lost. In the end, her heart softened. “Fine,” she said gently. “If you really don’t want to talk about it now, we’ll let it be for now. We still have time ahead of us. We’ll find a way, one that works for both of us.”
And just like that, this silent, mounting tension was diffused by Luo Han’s mercy. Ling Qingxiao had pushed one more boundary—and once again, her kindness disarmed him.
He didn’t say it out loud, but he’d made a quiet discovery: when he showed weakness, Luo Han couldn’t bring herself to be harsh.
Still holding her, he asked, “Will you always be like this?”
Before she could answer, he murmured his own response: “I shouldn’t be so greedy. As long as you remain close enough for me to reach...that’s enough.”
Luo Han looked at him, exasperated. “You need to trust yourself. And trust me. A relationship shouldn’t be built on control. If two people grow apart, then maybe it’s time to let go—find someone more compatible. Staying together just to hurt each other...that’s not love.”
She didn’t get to finish. Ling Qingxiao silenced her with a kiss.
Unlike his past tentative gestures, this kiss was fierce—possessive. He didn’t hold back. It was more like a conquest than a caress.
She was breathless, her mind blank, and still somehow had room for absurd thoughts: His learning curve really is something. He’s only kissed a few times, and he’s already mastered so much.
He used to tremble just from brushing against her lips. Now, he kissed with skill—pressing, parting, tasting, claiming.
She was forced to lean back, half her body pinned against the windowsill. As she retreated, he followed, until both of them were braced against the window together.
Outside, waves crashed rhythmically against the shore.
By the time he finally let her go, they were both panting. Luo Han caught her breath and narrowed her eyes. “Did you sneak off to read those kinds of books?”
Ling Qingxiao rested a hand behind her, feigning innocence. “What kinds of books?”
“The ones you’ve been so diligently collecting lately.”
“You mean the Records of Marriage Rites from All Realms?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, his voice soft as melting snow. “If you like, we can start planning now.”
Expressionless, Luo Han reached to pinch his waist.
To her surprise, Ling Qingxiao tensed and caught her hand. “Don’t,” he warned, “be naughty.”
She blinked. Since when does he stop me from hitting him? Still, she let it go and said, “Get up, my back’s sore.”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t move for a while. He just gazed at her, then suddenly slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground.
Her feet left the floor unexpectedly, and she instinctively clung to his neck. Her head naturally came to rest on his shoulder.
“Why did you get so worked up just now?” she asked softly.
“Because I didn’t want to hear you say that,” he murmured.
It took her a moment to realize—he meant that line she’d said earlier: ‘If the love is gone, then let each go their own way.’
She sighed. “It was only a hypothetical.”
“There won’t be any hypotheticals.”
So...he hadn’t really listened to anything she’d said, had he?
She had gone on and on about mutual trust and emotional balance, and still he believed that love meant lifelong exclusivity. That if one heart cooled, the other had the right to bind it down.
He was a dragon, after all. And though the dragon race was said to be passionate...Ling Qingxiao was more stubborn than any bird clan she’d met.
Maybe it was the wings, she thought idly. Maybe the wings had made him part bird after all.
One partner for life. And if that partner died, then so too would the dragon—mourning until they starved.
Su Yinyue was the same. In some ways, Ling Qingxiao was just as obsessive. Just as relentless. Just as willing to go too far.
He gently laid Luo Han down on the bed. His hand came to rest on her lower back, beginning to knead. His long fingers moved with practiced rhythm, soothing and firm, even channeling a stream of icy spiritual energy to help relieve her aches.
It felt so good that Luo Han nearly dozed off right there.
Outside, the sound of footsteps approached.
A palace maid stopped at the door and called respectfully, “Miss Luo, are you inside?”
Ling Qingxiao replied, “What is it?”
Hearing his voice, the maid froze. Why is the Immortal Lord in Miss Luo’s room? Her tone turned cautious. “Forgive me, Immortal Lord. His Majesty has prepared a welcome banquet in the garden. He has sent me to invite you and Miss Luo.”
She waited anxiously for a reply, terrified of upsetting such a powerful guest. Finally, from within came that familiar, cool voice.
“…Understood. You may go.”
But his tone didn’t sound particularly pleased.
The maid’s imagination immediately ran wild. This was Miss Luo’s room, and she hadn’t said a single word…
She dared not think further. After giving a hasty bow, she quickly retreated.
Luo Han, who was nearly asleep, couldn’t be bothered to say anything. She had no idea the maid outside had already constructed an entire palace drama in her head.
When the footsteps finally faded, she cracked one eye open and murmured, “You don’t want to go?”
“I don’t want to go,” Ling Qingxiao said bluntly, without bothering to hide his distaste. “I told them not to make a fuss. What’s the point of holding a banquet?”
Luo Han couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re naturally aloof and uninterested in socializing, but others might not feel the same. The people of Dongsha rarely get to meet outsiders. It’s understandable they’d want to celebrate. Besides, we’ve got nothing else to do tonight—why not treat it as a glimpse into another culture?”
Only because Luo Han had said so did Ling Qingxiao agree. With her, everything was different—her presence alone changed the equation. If she was there, he could tolerate anything.
The banquet was held in the palace gardens. By the time the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the sand still retained the warmth of the day while the sea breeze cooled the air—pleasant, gentle, just right.
Clearly, Dongsha’s king had carefully chosen the timing.
When Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao arrived, Zou Jibai was already seated. Luo Han sat down and looked around. “Why are you alone? Where’s Ye Zinan?”
Zou Jibai looked equally lost. “No idea.”
His whole afternoon had been mind-numbingly dull. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao were naturally in their own world, and Zou Jibai didn’t dare test Ling Qingxiao’s patience. He had gone to look for Ye Zinan but couldn’t find him either. Somehow, he ended up the odd one out.
Not long after, Ye Zinan and Feng Yujia finally appeared, one after the other. Seeing that everyone had arrived, the King of Dongsha rose to his feet and raised his cup. “Today, we are graced by the presence of Immortal Lord Ling, who has traveled far to rest in our humble nation. I am deeply honored. This cup I offer in respect to all our noble guests.”
Everyone raised their cups and returned the sentiment. Ye Zinan and the others downed their wine in one go. Ling Qingxiao merely lifted his cup for form’s sake before setting it down untouched.
Naturally, no one dared press him to drink. His very presence at the banquet was already an honor beyond measure.
The King of Dongsha was practically glowing with pride. Ling Qingxiao had not only chosen to reside in his kingdom but had even attended his banquet. With such an illustrious figure present, none of the neighboring nations would dare challenge Dongsha’s authority for decades to come. His rise as the dominant power of the Eastern Seas seemed all but guaranteed.
Delighted, the king drank freely. When he was pleased, his consorts felt emboldened to join in.
The mood among the concubines gradually grew more lively. One of them, dressed in a flowing gown of rosy red, stood up and playfully toasted the king. “Your Majesty is wise and valiant, a true master of statecraft. All that Dongsha is today is thanks to you. This cup, I offer to you with utmost respect.”
The king laughed heartily. Everyone enjoyed flattery, and even more so when it came from a beautiful woman.
Having secured his favor, the favored consort cast a smug glance toward the queen before sitting back down, triumphant. Even in this joyous gathering, the queen’s complexion was pale and weak. She didn’t react to the taunt at all—only lowered her head quietly.
It had nothing to do with Luo Han, but she still found the whole thing distasteful. Feng Yujia was equally displeased. As a phoenix, she was raised with the values of monogamy and lifelong fidelity. Even a phoenix queen, ruler of an entire nation, would never take another husband after her consort passed away.
Bird clans were by nature devoted. Even Ye Zinan frowned at the sight of the Dongsha king’s harem. Feng Yujia’s disgust was written plainly across her face.
Luo Han leaned toward her and whispered, “What exactly is the story here? How does the queen end up getting trampled like this by a bunch of concubines?”
Feng Yujia shook her head. “I don’t know the full details. But I overheard the maids this afternoon. Apparently, the queen and the king were childhood sweethearts. Back then, he was an unpopular prince, while her family wielded immense power in Dongsha. By rights, he should never have been able to marry her. But the queen went on a hunger strike and defied her family’s wishes to marry him anyway. They had a few peaceful years together. Then the king ascended the throne and faced mounting political pressure, and to maintain balance, he reluctantly took other women into the palace. Her family fell from power, and the harem grew steadily larger. Now it’s come to this.”
Luo Han raised a brow. Reluctantly married others to balance power? His body with one woman while his heart remained loyal to his wife?
What utter nonsense.
Call it what it was: betrayal. Cheating was cheating—no need to sugarcoat it with tales of undying love.
She hated men who couldn’t keep it in their pants yet insisted on painting themselves as deeply devoted. There was no “noble reason” for betrayal.
Still, it was their business. Since the queen herself hadn’t complained, Luo Han wasn’t going to interfere. But her opinion of the king had plummeted to rock bottom. She no longer felt any need to feign courtesy. If she disliked someone, she would simply ignore them.
Feng Yujia, too, found such men repugnant. But she had been a princess long enough to maintain a polite smile despite her loathing.
Ling Qingxiao, however, couldn’t care less about anyone else’s romantic affairs. What he did notice was Luo Han’s mood—and the moment he sensed her displeasure, he stood and said he was leaving.
The king panicked at the thought of Ling Qingxiao walking out mid-banquet. “Please, Immortal Lord,” he said, hastily trying to salvage the moment, “there’s no need to be in such a rush. Tonight, the rare Zixing Flowers will bloom on Dongsha Island. These flowers blossom only once every hundred years, and only for a single night. They are said to greatly aid in breakthroughs of the heart and spirit. Would you not care to take a look?”
Ling Qingxiao’s face remained unreadable as he prepared to decline again.
But Luo Han’s ears perked up.
Helpful for breaking through heart demons…
She tugged lightly at his sleeve and whispered, “Let’s go have a look.”
Ling Qingxiao lowered his gaze to her. In a soft spiritual transmission, he said, You don’t need to force yourself for anything. If you dislike this king, we can leave right now. You don’t have to tolerate anyone.
It’s fine, she replied in kind. Scumbags are everywhere. I’m not some moral enforcer—I can’t police the world. It’s enough to keep myself in check. But it’s rare to see something that aids in heart cultivation. Since we’ve come across it, let’s not waste the chance.
Since Luo Han said so, Ling Qingxiao had no further objections. Moments ago, he’d declined—but now, without blinking, he reversed course.
“Very well,” he said calmly. “We’ll trouble Your Majesty to lead the way.”
The King of Dongsha could clearly tell Ling Qingxiao wasn’t the least bit interested. Not daring to linger any longer, he quickly led the group toward the Sea of Zixing Flowers to await the rare bloom. With the king taking the lead, his gaggle of chattering concubines didn’t dare make a sound, all trailing behind him with bated breath.
They hadn’t waited long when the flowers began to bloom.
A full moon hung low over the sea’s horizon, waves crashing in rhythmic cadence. The sands shimmered with a soft, silvery glow. Under this hazy moonlight, vast fields of violet flowers unfurled their petals like something from a dream.
The Zixing Flowers only bloom for a single night. As soon as the first rays of morning sunlight crest the horizon, the flowers begin to wither. The next bloom wouldn't be for another hundred years. The petals begin in a pale lavender hue, deepening in shade the fuller the bloom. When they finally turn near-black, it signals the imminent arrival of dawn.
To reach the peak of beauty...is also to touch the edge of death.
As the purple sea of blossoms slowly unfolded, a dreamlike fragrance floated on the breeze, faint and otherworldly. Many were instantly entranced by the scene. The concubines fidgeted, eager to step forward and admire the flowers up close. The King of Dongsha turned to Ling Qingxiao and said with a smile, “Immortal Lord, the true benefit for one’s heart and mind lies not in viewing from afar. Only by stepping into the bloom can one experience its effects. Would you like to go in?”
Ling Qingxiao nodded slightly. “Very well. But you needn’t follow. We’ll go ourselves.”
With that, he took Luo Han’s hand and said softly, “Come.”
“……” The King of Dongsha’s smile stiffened. He forced a courteous tone. “Since the Immortal Lord has made his arrangements, I shall not intrude. Please, enjoy at your leisure.”
Hand in hand, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao stepped into the sea of violet blossoms. Both dressed in flowing white robes, the drifting petals clung to their clothes like scattered stardust.
The image was breathtaking—like a painting come to life. Those who saw them stood frozen, mesmerized.
Zou Jibai turned to Ye Zinan with a sour expression. “Those two stick together like glue. Seriously, I can’t stand it. Good thing I’ve got you to keep me company. From now on, we’ll just rely on each other, brothers till the end.”
Ye Zinan paused. Then, politely: “No. Just you.”
“Huh?” Zou Jibai blinked, confused—only to see Ye Zinan suddenly crane his neck toward the distance and declare, “You enjoy yourself. I have someone waiting for me.”
And off he went—gracefully strolling toward the phoenix princess to invite her for a walk through the flower field, completely forgetting the brother he'd just abandoned to the night wind.
Zou Jibai stared after them, stunned. Then he glanced at Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao, now small silhouettes beneath the moonlight. It hit him with the force of a sword blow:
One of us has betrayed the brotherhood.
Swallowing his sorrow, Zou Jibai straightened his spine and marched into the sea of flowers—solo, but unbowed.
What, is emotional enlightenment impossible alone? Must everyone pair off? How childish.
As night deepened, mist began to rise from the sea, casting a hazy veil over the flower fields. Luo Han walked for a while, then glanced back—only to find they were alone.
The flower field was vast, but they’d purposely chosen a quieter route. Even so, not hearing a single voice was...unnatural.
She turned to Ling Qingxiao beside her. “Did we just step into another trap?”
No reply.
Frowning, Luo Han turned fully—only to find herself standing alone amidst the flowers. Ling Qingxiao had vanished.
She raised an eyebrow. So that’s the trick behind the Zixing Flower’s reputation for enlightenment—it traps the mind in illusion.