Chapter 96

The spring was clear. Everything below could be seen at a glance.
Luo Han’s eyes widened in shock as Ling Qingxiao’s face filled her vision.
She hadn’t expected the guard to return. She hadn’t expected to suffocate underwater. And she definitely hadn’t expected this—Ling Qingxiao breathing spiritual energy into her...mouth to mouth.
The Qi flowed through the seal of his lips into hers. She couldn’t feel the texture of his lips with water dulling every sensation—but the warmth of the energy he passed to her was unmistakable, like the kiss of the spring itself.
She froze. For several seconds, she didn’t react at all. The spiritual energy had nowhere to go and began to leak from the corners of her lips, bubbling toward the surface.
Above them, Lei Jiu hadn’t moved.
If he saw that trail of escaping energy—
Ling Qingxiao pressed his lips more firmly against hers, sealing off any chance of leakage.
That brought Luo Han back to her senses. Instinct took over, and she swallowed the energy, drawing it deep into her body.
It wasn’t until she did that she realized—this wasn’t just a kiss. It was essentially a deep one. Through the lips, from his Qi core to hers.
Her face flushed even underwater. She barely moved, only for Ling Qingxiao’s hand to tighten around her waist. He held her completely still, his lips locked to hers, one arm wrapped around her, the other anchoring them in place.
Luo Han’s hand hovered near the crook of his arm. She didn’t know whether to push him away...or to hold on.
The warm water, tinged faintly with sulfur, swirled silently around them.
She could see his face clearly—the elegant arch of his brows, the long lashes curling above his closed eyes, and those clear, obsidian pupils reflecting a miniature version of herself. His nose brushed against hers, high and perfectly sculpted.
Even at this distance—especially at this distance—he looked utterly unreal. Drenched, with his hair sticking to his forehead, he still had that otherworldly, untouchable allure.
Luo Han could feel the strength of the hand at her waist. She didn’t know if he was restraining her...or himself.
Lips still locked, bodies pressed close, neither dared to move. It was, technically, just a breath exchange. Neither of them ventured their tongue. Neither of them dared.
Luo Han’s thoughts spun in every direction. She didn’t even notice when Lei Jiu left.
Suddenly, Ling Qingxiao released her. They broke the surface at last, both gasping for breath.
Only then did she realize—the danger had passed.
She floated in place for a long while, stunned. Finally, dazedly, she raised a hand to her lips.
Ling Qingxiao had already reached the shore. When he turned and saw her dazed expression and the way her fingers lingered at her mouth, the tips of his ears turned scarlet.
He quickly turned away and said stiffly, “From what we overheard, Lei Lie set a trap tonight. We need to return immediately.”
“…Okay,” Luo Han mumbled, finally snapping out of it. She began swimming to shore, movements sluggish and clumsy.
Her limbs refused to coordinate. Her mind was still swirling.
Seeing how unsteady she was, Ling Qingxiao reached over and lifted her cleanly from the water—cradling her effortlessly in his arms.
His movement was swift and precise, barely disturbing the surface, save for the ripples trailing in their wake.
Luo Han instinctively wanted to cry out but clamped a hand over her mouth just in time.
She expected the air to feel cold once they left the water. But to her surprise, her clothes and hair instantly dried—save for the damp ends of her hair. Ling Qingxiao’s doing, no doubt.
But his own hair remained wet.
Luo Han sighed softly. She reached out and gently gathered a lock of his hair, using a touch of her spiritual energy to warm and dry it.
Ling Qingxiao felt her motion but said nothing, focused on their escape.
Her fingers played with the ends of his hair. From this angle, she could clearly see the side of his face—sharp jawline, composed expression, breathtakingly serene.
Fresh from the water, his skin was pale and smooth as jade, ethereal yet not at all cold.
And even now...even drenched...he still looked like a god descending to the mortal realm.
Luo Han couldn’t help but marvel—she’d always thought Ling Qingxiao looked his best when he was impeccably put together, every fold of his robes sharp, every movement precise. But now, with his hair damp and tousled, his clothes loose and half-hanging...he was far more tempting than she'd imagined.
Lost in thought, she quietly dried another damp strand of his hair, then reached for the next—and suddenly froze.
Wait a minute. He’d dried her clothes just now.
That meant...even her undergarments—
Before she could spiral further, Ling Qingxiao had already returned to the courtyard, slipping through the window and landing silently in the room. But the moment he touched down, he noticed Luo Han had gone unusually quiet.
What is it? he wondered. But there was no time to ask. He turned to her and said, “Change your clothes. They may have noticed we slipped out.”
He hadn’t even finished speaking when footsteps echoed from outside the courtyard—fast and numerous. Demon folk.
Ling Qingxiao’s heart sank. They were still wearing their black infiltration clothes. If discovered like this, the truth would be laid bare.
There was no time to think. In one swift motion, he scooped Luo Han up, laid her on the bed, and pulled the quilt over her.
Startled, Luo Han gripped the blanket on instinct, her voice still confused: “What are you doing?”
“Shh. Don’t speak,” Ling Qingxiao whispered urgently, glancing toward the window. “There’s no time to change. Bear with it. Just stay quiet. I’ll deal with them.”
With that, he tucked the blanket over her tightly and flicked his fingers. The bed’s canopy slowly fell like rippling silk, veiling the bed in soft, blurry shadows.
Through the dim curtain, Luo Han watched as Ling Qingxiao turned away, rapidly undoing his outer robe. The black garb vanished into his storage ring, and with a practiced movement, he pulled a white robe from the screen and donned it.
He moved fast, his collar slightly askew, strands of black hair still caught beneath the fabric. With a twist of his wrist, he drew them free—the long cascade of hair arcing through the air like ink spilled in water.
Just as he finished dressing, the door burst open with a bang.
Ling Qingxiao sat calmly at the desk, unmoved, and glanced coldly at the intruders. His gaze swept over them slowly, finally landing on the leading demon cultivator, carrying with it a weight that could chill marrow.
“Uninvited guests, barging in during the dead of night—is this how the Lei Lie Palace treats its honored visitors?”
Lei Er had waited at the main hall for far too long. When no activity stirred from the central residence, suspicion gnawed at him. In desperation, he chose to risk storming Ling Qingxiao’s room.
He had fully expected the place to be empty.
He had not expected to walk in on the aloof Ling Qingxiao, robed in white, calmly seated at the table as though waiting for a sparring partner in chess.
An awkward silence fell. Lei Er’s eyes darted across the room, searching for clues.
But there was nothing out of place.
As if Ling Qingxiao had never left.
Lei Er knew something wasn’t right. But with no evidence, he had no choice but to bow and apologize. “Forgive the intrusion, Master Ling. There was an intruder in the palace tonight. We feared they may disturb our guests and came to check. If we’ve overstepped, we beg your pardon.”
Ling Qingxiao placed the game piece back into the wooden box and replied coldly, “A thief in the palace...and the first place you choose to search is my quarters? Are you implying I’m the thief?”
That was exactly what Lei Er had suspected. But with nothing to back it up, he could only fumble for words: “Of course not. Master Ling misunderstands.”
“Whether it’s a misunderstanding,” Ling Qingxiao said, his voice hardening, “we’ll let Prince Lei explain tomorrow himself. Now...leave. Or do you mean to search my private chambers as well?”
The pressure in his tone turned tangible. Lei Er broke into a cold sweat. They were already in the wrong. Reluctantly, he mumbled another apology and backed out with his men, thoroughly humiliated.
Just as they stepped outside, Lei Er noticed something odd—there was no light in the neighboring guest room.
“Why is that room unlit?”
Ling Qingxiao’s heart clenched. He’d forgotten to light the lantern in Luo Han’s room before leaving.
He opened his mouth to cover it up, but before he could speak, a voice drifted from within:
“I’m here. Of course there’s no one over there.”
From behind the screen, Luo Han stepped out in a light inner robe, lifting the curtain with one hand. She hadn’t had time to change fully and had simply removed the outer infiltration clothes, leaving only the underlayer.
Fortunately, celestial attire was designed to be layered. Even with just one layer, it was more modest than half the outfits common in the demon or beast realms.
Still, the sudden appearance of a woman emerging from Ling Qingxiao’s inner chambers made every demon cultivator in the room freeze.
Ling Qingxiao’s brows furrowed. He moved immediately to block their line of sight, pulling a cloak from his storage and wrapping it tightly around Luo Han from head to toe.
Lei Er blinked, processing the scene slowly. He recognized this woman—she had arrived with Ling Qingxiao. But he hadn’t expected this.
So the famous cold-hearted genius of the Celestial Realm, the paragon of restraint who scorned the indulgences of demon and beast clans...had needs just like everyone else?
Without realizing it, Lei Er’s eyes began to change. This was the genius of the Celestial Realm? No better than the rest of the dragon bloodline, it seemed.
The moment Ling Qingxiao saw Luo Han, something in his aura shifted. He wrapped the cloak snugly around her, fingers fastening the clasps with care.
Behind him, someone dared to make a noise. His gaze snapped toward them, sharp as a blade. “Still not gone?”
That was the last straw. Lei Er and his men took the hint and slunk away, thoroughly chastened.
Once they were out of earshot, Ling Qingxiao turned back to Luo Han, his voice low and angry: “Why did you come out?”
“They noticed my room was dark,” Luo Han said, annoyed, tugging at the cumbersome cloak. “If they’d gone there to check, we’d both be exposed.”
She began pulling the cloak off. “Good thing celestial clothes are built like onions. Take off a few layers, and I’m still more decent than most demon royalty.”
“How is that not a problem?” Ling Qingxiao snapped.
But it was too late—she’d already removed the cloak, revealing the thin inner robe beneath.
His eyes darted away. Jaw tight, voice hoarse, he growled, “Put on your clothes. Now.”
Luo Han stared down at herself in disbelief.
Beneath the night-walker’s garb, she’d worn a layer of snow-white inner lining, covered by a cross-collared, dark-patterned middle robe. To allow easier movement, she’d opted for narrow sleeves and a fitted waist. She had simply left off the outermost long skirt and wide-sleeved robe.
And this counted as improperly dressed?
With a resigned sigh, she reminded herself that Ling Qingxiao was an old-fashioned stickler. Out of consideration, she grabbed a loose robe and slung it over her shoulders, barely bothering to tie the sash before sitting down across from him, right where he had been seated moments ago. She reached into the game box and idly picked up a chess piece.
“So, they really did set traps all over tonight, waiting for us to walk straight in? That would mean they still haven’t realized we’ve discovered the Demon-Sealing Stone and the underground palace.”
Ling Qingxiao sat opposite her, but the moment he looked up, his eyes locked on her collar—loose and half-open, revealing a long stretch of graceful neck. The robe she’d tossed on was barely holding together, sleeves slipping, belt half-tied—one tug and it would all fall apart.
His gaze skittered away immediately, unable to linger.
But then it landed on her lips—and instantly, the memory of earlier surged back, making him even more uncomfortable.
“…Probably,” he replied distractedly, though in truth, he hadn’t heard a word of what she’d just said. For the first time in his life, Ling Qingxiao found his focus entirely shattered. He tried to gather his thoughts, struggled for several seconds, and then gave up.
Turning his face away, he cleared his throat lightly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay hidden for a while? Why did you come out?”
Luo Han thought to herself: And let us both awkwardly pull back the blanket later, face to face in silence? Wouldn’t that have been worse?
She had done plenty of mental prep while curled under that quilt, convinced she was over it. But now, seeing Ling Qingxiao so visibly affected, she was starting to feel flustered too.
Putting on a brave front, she said breezily, “It was a judgment call. Everything was for the mission—I get it. We did forget to light the lantern in my room. It was an oversight. Now that it’s been patched, there’s no need to fuss over rules and etiquette. Everyone in our group knows what we’re here for. Even if rumors spread, so what? As long as we have a clear conscience, that’s all that matters.”
Ling Qingxiao tapped a chess piece with absent-minded fingers, the crisp clinks of jade against wood echoing in the quiet. Suddenly, he looked up and fixed her with an intense gaze. “And what if I do have a guilty conscience?”
Luo Han had been trying to gracefully de-escalate the situation, stepping down one verbal staircase at a time. But now—he’d flipped the whole thing on its head.
She tensed instantly. “What...what do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” he said calmly, “that I want to break our deal.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Still, she asked, feigning ignorance, “Which deal?”
“There was only ever one,” Ling Qingxiao said, his eyes locking on hers like twin blades. The pressure was suffocating. Luo Han looked away instinctively.
But he didn’t let up.
“You once said: you saved me once, and in return, I would protect you for a thousand years. Strictly business. No personal ties. And when the thousand years passed, we’d go our separate ways.”
He leaned closer. “But now, I regret it.”
Luo Han had never seen Ling QingXiaolike this—so direct, so unrelenting. She could feel his gaze scorching her skin, burning through every layer of pretense she tried to hide behind.
He didn’t wait for her response.
“What happened today...we can’t keep brushing it off as duty or convenience. Some boundaries, once crossed, can’t be undone. And today—we clearly crossed them.”
He leaned in a little further, voice lower. “If we keep dodging, pretending nothing happened, then I would be the one shirking responsibility. What do you think?”
Luo Han took a long, shaky breath before she could reply.
“So what is it you want, then?”
With a flick of his sleeve, Ling Qingxiao swept away the chessboard and all its pieces. The sudden emptiness in front of her made Luo Han’s nerves jump—there was nothing left to hide behind.
He reached for her hand.
“I used to believe in nothing—not fate, not the heavens, only in myself. But later, I realized...there are some things I want so badly, only the heavens can grant them.”
Her voice dropped instinctively. “Like what?”
“I heard...if you want a destined partner, you make a vow to the heavens.” He smiled faintly. “So I’m making one: I wish for lifelong companionship, for a home full of children and joy. I wonder...would the heavens allow that?”
Luo Han tried her best to keep her face straight, but her lips wouldn’t obey—her mouth twitched up at the corners.
She had felt it, especially after Jiuren City.
No one casually set river lanterns with someone else. No one stared at stars together under the same blanket. And certainly, no one gifted someone else with a flower crown designed specifically for confessions—unless their heart was involved.
And Ling Qingxiao...was not the type to waste time on pointless sentiment.
Luo Han squirmed a little in place, awkwardly tugging at her sleeves. Then she realized she still hadn’t given him an answer.
She cleared her throat, trying to sound proper. “Your wish lacks precision. Children are a matter of fate. Even if the heavens bless a couple, it doesn’t guarantee they’ll have offspring. ‘A home full of children’ is a bit too absolute—even mortals struggle with that, let alone immortals whose fertility is famously low.”
Ling Qingxiao chuckled and leaned closer.
“Alright, then let me rephrase it,” he said. “I want you. I want to watch every sunrise and sunset with you, dive into the heavens and seas with you, share every breath of this lifetime with you. Children, fate, longevity—those are all external things. What I want...is you.”
Luo Han couldn’t help but laugh—but quickly bit it back, schooling her face.
“You’re so bound by responsibility. Are you saying this because you feel obliged after...what happened earlier? Because you think physical contact means you must take responsibility?” she teased lightly. “If so, you really don’t need to worry. I don’t care about that kind of propriety. Besides, it was just our lips…”
Before she could finish, Ling Qingxiao suddenly reached out, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her.
This time, it wasn’t underwater.
Now she could feel it—all of it.
His lips were firm, warm, unyielding. His kiss was not gentle—it was intense, a little clumsy, but burning with intent. He must’ve been testing something new, because his tongue brushed against her lips once—just once—then retreated, unsure of what to do next.
And just when she thought it was over, his teeth nipped at her lip—like a silent demand, a mark.
He finally let go, but his hand remained cupped behind her head, holding her still.
Luo Han sat frozen, dizzy with lack of air. Her thoughts were scrambled, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and throat. She couldn’t even remember how to inhale.
She was very, very sure now—She had just actually kissed Ling Qingxiao. And he was terrifyingly serious about it.
Luo Han stared wide-eyed at Ling Qingxiao.
His eyes were bright—dangerously so. She had never seen him like this before—so assertive, so unapologetically full of desire. It left her utterly dazed. After a long moment, she finally stammered out, “Y-You’re really not doing this out of some sense of duty?”
Ling Qingxiao let out a helpless sigh. “I’m not.”
He paused, trying to figure out where she’d even gotten such a bizarre idea. “Truth be told, I’m not particularly responsible by nature. I’m simply...goal-oriented. I never do anything that doesn’t yield results. As for a man claiming he’s taking responsibility for a woman...that in itself already betrays ulterior motives.”
Luo Han blinked slowly, and their gazes met.
They were so close that she was almost certain her eyelashes were brushing his. Reflected in the depths of his pupils, she saw a miniature version of herself—as if, in this moment, all the heavens and realms faded into illusion, and only the two of them remained real.
Almost entranced, Luo Han softly said, “Okay.”
Right before her eyes, Ling Qingxiao’s gaze lit up like a skyful of fireworks. She immediately felt shy and hurried to cover it up: “Just as boyfriend and girlfriend though—whether we’re actually compatible still needs to be tested.”
Boyfriend and girlfriend?
Ling Qingxiao had never heard such a term. Clearly, their definitions were diverging. But it was their first step—he wouldn’t push. As long as she was willing, that was enough.
As for a title...that was just a formality.
After all, she wouldn’t be able to escape anymore.
Once their feelings were laid bare, Luo Han suddenly felt terribly awkward. She shifted her head ever so slightly, and Ling Qingxiao, sensing it, let go of her.
Luo Han immediately jumped to her feet. “It’s late, I should head back.”
“Alright.” Ling Qingxiao stood as well, gently helping her smooth her robes. “I’ll walk you.”
They walked in silence.
When they reached her door, Luo Han turned back to speak but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m going to sleep now. You...should rest too.”
Ling Qingxiao looked at her and gave a soft nod. “Mm.”
He said he would leave, but didn’t actually move until her door closed and the warm glow of her lantern filtered through the latticework. Only then did he finally turn away.
Inside, Luo Han remained standing at the door, listening to his footsteps fade in the courtyard. When the sound finally vanished into the distance, she let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
She’d been wound up like a coil the entire time. Now, back in her own room, she could no longer contain it. Her lips curled upward as she bent over laughing silently, eyes crinkling with joy.
She wasn’t sure what counted as the luckiest thing in the world.
But being loved by the one you love—surely, that had to be near the top.
Suddenly filled with boundless energy, she glanced down—and froze.
Her clothes were a total disaster. Hair disheveled, sleeves uneven—she looked like she’d been dragged through a windstorm. She had been like this the entire time?!
Mortified, Luo Han leapt for her storage pouch and began sifting through every article of clothing she owned, determined to find the most flattering outfit. Her boyfriend was so good-looking—she absolutely refused to fall behind.
—
The next morning, Luo Han woke earlier than she ever had in her life.
Normally, she’d lie in bed for a while, drowsy and unwilling to move. But today, she shot upright the moment she opened her eyes, quickly got out of bed, and began getting dressed.
Unlike the mortal realm, the Immortal Realm didn’t favor rouge or powders—but that didn’t mean it lacked adornments. Luo Han poured all her focus into preparing. First the makeup was too light, then it felt too heavy. She changed her mind about her outfit more times than she could count, until—A light tapping echoed at the door.
“Are you awake?”
Ling Qingxiao had been waiting outside for a while. At first he’d been patient, but when there was still no response, concern began to creep in. Could something have happened inside?
Just as he raised his hand to knock again, the door swung open.
He was caught off guard—momentarily stunned.
Luo Han stood in a flowing white gown, silver threads shimmering like stardust along the hem. Her outfit was entirely white, but with subtle shifts in hue and texture—simple and elegant, yet exquisitely refined.
As she moved slightly, the light played across her skirt like ripples on a starry river.
Seeing him remain silent, Luo Han grew nervous. “What? Something wrong?”
“No,” Ling Qingxiao returned to himself and smiled. “You look...beautiful.”
He stepped forward and gently brushed a stray lock from her temple, then took her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “The Lei Lie King has returned. He’s in the main hall. It’s time we go greet him.”
Luo Han blinked. “That means...Ye Zhongyu is there too?”
Ling Qingxiao’s expression remained calm, like this name had nothing to do with him. “Yes.”
Luo Han cast him a cautious glance and asked in a soft voice, “Doesn’t that bother you?”
After all, the last time they’d seen each other, Ye Zhongyu had betrayed Zhongshan and fallen from grace. Their final confrontation had been bitter. Could Ling Qingxiao really feel nothing upon seeing him again?
Ling Qingxiao genuinely didn’t care anymore.
“He’s just a nobody. Not worth a second thought.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
In the past, he would never have willingly faced Ye Zhongyu again—let alone attend his wedding. But now…Now he had Luo Han beside him, the woman who would be his future wife.
Attending another’s wedding while walking in with the person he loved? That didn’t sound so bad.
In fact, it might even be...inspiring. He could pick up a few ideas for their own ceremony. Quite useful, actually.