Leng Qingqiu slowly opened her eyes, and the small, familiar yet strange bed came into view. She stared silently at everything around her, as if time had frozen still. This place had once been filled with warmth and laughter, but now, only silence and desolation remained.
She recalled the thatched cottage in the mountains that had once been her home. Every stone and every timber bore the memories of the wonderful times she had spent with Old Man Leng. Yet, things had changed; Old Man Leng was gone, and the place had lost its former vitality.
An endless wave of grief surged in Leng Qingqiu’s heart. It had once been a cozy home, where Old Man Leng’s presence had provided her with boundless love and care. Now, without him, the room was merely a dilapidated shell, unable to offer her the slightest comfort.
She lightly touched the wall by the bed, feeling the traces left by the passage of time. Every detail stirred memories of the past, those happy moments playing in her mind like a film. But with the passing of Old Man Leng, those memories felt distant and illusory.
Leng Qingqiu took a deep breath, trying to calm the pain within. She knew that life had to go on, even if she felt incomparably lonely and lost in this moment. She decided to re-examine the crumbling room, searching for any hidden hope or strength.
Perhaps she could use her own hands to repair the place and restore it to its former glory. Though it would be a daunting task, she was willing to try; it was not only a tribute to Old Man Leng but also a way to find herself again.
Though the heartache remained, Leng Qingqiu found a trace of solace in her actions. She understood that life’s setbacks and losses were not the end, but a new beginning. Only by facing them bravely could she emerge from the shadows and welcome a bright future of her own.
"Old Man Leng, where are you?" Leng Qingqiu scrambled to get out of bed, only to collapse directly onto the floor.
She used all her strength to try to stand up from the cold ground, but her body felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer. No sooner had she put on her shoes than she fell heavily back down by the bed.
A sharp pain pierced her chest, as if a blade were twisting in her heart. Every breath brought agony, a constant reminder of the cruel truth: Old Man Leng had perished in that raging inferno.
She felt like a lonely duckweed, stripped of its roots and drifting in a vast sea of people. Her parents had once been the harbor and spiritual pillars of her life; now that they were gone, she was suddenly lost, unable to find the way home.
At this moment, she deeply grasped the bitter sadness and helplessness behind the saying: "While parents are alive, one still has a place of origin; when they pass, one is left only with the journey home." She knew that from this day forward, she would have to face the storms of the world alone, struggling to walk onward...
Xiangliu entered, carrying a bowl of wild vegetable porridge. He placed it on a side table and walked over to help Leng Qingqiu up.
"Give me back my Old Man Leng! I haven't had a single good day since I met you. Just eat me now; my heart is cold as ash. As you wish, eat me, then go find another human blood bag," Leng Qingqiu said, looking at Xiangliu with eyes full of despair.
"You cannot die. Our fates are bound together," Xiangliu said, pointing toward his heart. "Our hearts are connected. From now on, I will protect you and keep you from harm."
"But can you say my father's death had nothing to do with you? If I kill myself, will you die too?"
"Why don't you try and see?" Xiangliu felt a pain in his heart so severe he could barely breathe—this gu-poison was truly formidable!
"Why won't you let me go? Please, just let me go."
"Once you have entered my sight, you are mine. Don't even think about it. Drink the porridge, and I will take you to a place rich in spiritual energy to cultivate."
"I won't go. I only seek death. Please, help me, make it quick. I want to be with my parents. It has been over a decade since I last saw my mother, and now my father has left me too. I feel that living is truly meaningless. You are so powerful, I will never be able to kill you in this lifetime. Let me die!" Leng Qingqiu, her heart utterly dead, lay on the bed and wept silently. Blood-red tears dripped onto her pillow...
Xiangliu knew well that once a Jiao-people began to shed blood tears, it meant their life was nearing its end. Without hesitation, he struck the stubborn Leng Qingqiu, rendering her unconscious. This young girl had such a strong spirit! Yet, was he not the same? He smiled bitterly, picking her up and feeling her faint breathing, an endless sorrow and helplessness rising in his heart.
He laid her gently on the bed, then sat cross-legged and pressed his palms against her back, beginning to channel his True Qi into her incessantly. His gaze was focused and firm, as if he would use all his strength to save this poor girl. As the True Qi flowed in, the color gradually returned to Leng Qingqiu's face, but Xiangliu’s forehead was soon covered in sweat.
Time ticked by, and Xiangliu dared not slacken for a moment. He understood that he had to persist, or Leng Qingqiu would leave this world forever. He told himself silently that he must save her, no matter the cost.
After a long effort, Xiangliu finally sensed that the injuries within her were under control and her breathing had stabilized. He let out a long sigh of relief, a faint smile of comfort appearing on his face. Exhausted as he was, he felt it was all worth it.
Unknowingly, an invisible thread had bound these two miserable souls together. Watching the girl’s quiet sleeping face, with tears still clinging to her lashes, Xiangliu felt his heart ache uncontrollably. He leaned down and gently kissed the tears away.
"What am I to do with you?" Xiangliu thought to himself. He was an Ancient Great Demon known for being "cruel and ruthless, with a heart like a scorpion." When had he ever softened for a woman? It must be the effect of the gu-poison; he could not possibly have feelings—feelings were merely a hindrance.
He quietly closed the door, afraid that the slightest sound might disturb her. Then, his form stretched out like a nimble bird as he leaped onto the tall locust tree outside the door. He stood firmly among the branches, holding a jar of his treasured peach blossom wine. He pulled the lid off, and a rich, fragrant aroma of wine wafted into the air.
He tilted his head back, raising his cup to the sky as if to drink with the bright, full moon. A light breeze stirred his white robes, making him look like an immortal descended to earth. On this quiet night, he was alone, savoring this rare moment of peace as a faint, lingering sorrow spread through the air...