Winding Python Ridge and Windless Plains were separated by a single river that stretched further than the eye could see. It marked the end of the southern lands and the beginning of the northern lands. Because of this, for thousands of years, the Western Banks were the tensest parts of the Yongxiu region. It wasn’t until Ao Yuxiang moved in that the contingency in the area cooled. When Hongyan Tower was established, just a few hundred years later, the surrounding area became even more peaceful.
Despite this, no one dared to move the territories in the Western Banks. Even normal demon spirits who wanted a place to settle would rather pledge their allegiance than try to carve out a small plot of land for themselves.
Thus, nature was what took over the ruined buildings and broken roads.
“Is there a city gate we have to pass through?” Gui Yin asked.
Langxia shook his head. “This isn’t the upper realm. People come and go as they please. As long as the ruckus they cause isn’t too drastic, people barely pay attention.”
“What freedom,” Gui Yin said. He glanced around. “But is there a reason we can’t fly?”
“It would be too conspicuous,” Langxia said. “Besides, Miss Ao has a strict rule that prohibits flying in her territory. It’s a shoot on sight.”
Gui Yin smiled forcefully. “This…Miss Ao seems like a character.”
“She’s not too bad. Very useful and quite intelligent,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin glanced at him. “Are you two close?”
Langxia glanced back. He raised a brow. “Are you jealous?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far to say that I’m jealous,” Gui Yin said. “More like I’m scoping out the competition. Besides, you never compliment anyone.”
Langxia chuckled. “There’s no competition. Unlike with you.”
Gui Yin scoffed in disbelief. “No competition? You expect me to believe there’s no competition?”
“Yes,” Langxia said. “After all, who would like a maniac like myself? Even though everyone’s a little crazy here, they should at least have standards.”
Gui Yin fell silent. His curiosity was piqued, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask. Seeing his hesitation, Langxia’s smile grew.
“Ask.”
“What’d you do?”
“Windless Plains had a previous owner,” Langxia said. “At the beginning, I just owned Hongyan Tower, then my influence began expanding. The reason I abandoned Devil Desert’s Huigu Palace was not only because I had planned on moving into Kunlun, but also because I didn’t have time to build two territories at once. Those years during the war between ghost cultivators and the righteous faction was when I was tying up loose ends.”
Gui Yin nodded in understanding. “You killed them?”
“Only those that stood in my way,” Langxia said with an innocent expression.
Gui Yin shook his head. “You really are crazy.”
“Are you planning on leaving me then?”
Gui Yin let out a long sigh. “My dear Palace Lord, wouldn’t it be too late now? If I wanted to leave you, I should have done so when you began breaking into my peak and leaving those little notes.”
“Instead, you kept them. I guess we’re both a little crazy,” Langxia said.
“Hey, don’t lump me together with you. At most, I’m just a little odd or impulsive. I wouldn’t go as far to say that I’m crazy. But you?” Gui Yin scoffed.
“But you’re still here. A person who continues to follow a person they think is deranged and crazy is probably the crazier one, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think you’re deranged,” Gui Yin corrected.
Langxia chuckled. “Why, thank you.”
Gui Yin glanced at him and shook his head. “Is that really something to be so happy about? Why? Do people usually say you’re—”
Gui Yin’s words stopped.
Langxia was waiting for the other man to continue, but when he was only met with silence, he glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I forgot what I wanted to say,” Gui Yin said.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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“Even if you don’t need to rest, the beasts need to rest,” Gui Yin said, awkwardly patting his steed. He met Langxia’s gaze and smiled uncomfortably. “Some say silence is agreement, so, we’ll…head this way. This area looks like there may be a cave or something.”
Langxia tugged on the reins of the beast and followed Gui Yin until the two men found a broken, but not too dilapidated home. The two beasts were tied under a ragged stable and given some food to eat. Gui Yin returned inside and found Langxia was already picking at things and cleaning up. He smiled slightly and walked over to help.
Langxia’s hands stilled. He watched Gui Yin toss the blankets to the ground and proceed to dust off the bed. His gaze lowered for a moment before he straightened. He walked over to Gui Yin and tugged at his hand.
“How has your sleep been?”
Gui Yin glanced at him. Langxia had drawn his hand up and pressed his lips against his knuckles. He gently nudged the man away, but didn’t make a move to pull his hand back. He watched as Langxia gently massaged his hand and waited silently for his answer. The small gesture caused butterflies to fly through his heart. For a moment, he couldn’t control his expression and he was forced to avert his gaze.
Gui Yin ended up shrugging nonchalantly. “Not the best. Why do you ask?”
“I ask because it feels like you’ve been avoiding me today.”
Gui Yin glanced at Langxia again.
“Or is there just a lot on your mind?” Langxia asked. He met Gui Yin’s gaze and attempted a soft smile. “Or do you not want to talk about it?”
Gui Yin fidgeted a little before settling down. He softly cleared his throat. “I had another dream. And that dream wasn’t in my perspective.”
“Then, was it in his?”
Gui Yin quickly shook his head. “Goodness no.”
“Then, it must have been in mine,” Langxia said. “What did you see?”
“I saw…a teenager. And at the same time, I saw my entire world,” Gui Yin said. After saying so, he felt so embarrassed that his fingers cringed against Langxia’s palm.
The man chuckled and shifted forward. “And how did your entire world look?”
“…Absolutely plain.”
“Really?” Langxia slowly raised a brow.
“Definitely.”
Langxia sighed and clicked his tongue. “Then, it shouldn’t have been my memories. If I saw my entire world, I wouldn’t describe it as plain. My world is the most beautiful thing anyone would have the honor to behold. I remember, at that time, even if I was sleeping in the next room, I would long to be even closer. Some nights, I would even think to—”
Langxia’s words were stopped by a quick hand to his mouth. The shape of his lips turned upwards against Gui Yin’s hand as his cheeky voice rang clearly within Gui Yin’s mind.
“Darling, you know that won’t stop me.”
“Shut your mouth,” Gui Yin said, his voice carrying no animosity. He sighed and plopped down against the blankets and the still dusty ground. He removed his hand, but it was quickly caught again as Langxia shifted towards his lap to lay down.
“Was that what was bothering you?”
“Why did I see that?”
“We’re connected,” Langxia said. “It isn’t surprising for you to see parts of my memories.”
“Then, do you see mine?” Gui Yin asked curiously.
Langxia shook his head. “I haven’t yet. But I have a theory.”
Gui Yin’s eyes widened. He leaned closer as if the two of them were about to share the universe’s secret. “What theory?”
“My emotional root is recovering,” Langxia slowly said. “So, in that way, being able to feel your emotions isn’t too much of a punishment for me now. I can understand you. Some might even say it will be advantageous for me.”
Gui Yin raised a brow. “And?”
“And so, the Heavens might have given you a glimpse of my past as a last ditch effort to punish me,” Langxia said. He shrugged and offered an impish grin. “Of course, that’s just a theory.”
Gui Yin sat back and frowned slightly. “Why does it feel like you and Heaven have a personal feud?”
“I’m an existence intolerable to Heaven,” Langxia said. He looked at Gui Yin cheekily. “Basically, that means I get their special attention. Isn’t your husband amazing?”
The growing tension in Gui Yin’s chest immediately disappeared. He rolled his eyes. “Who said you’re my husband?”
Langxia’s words overlapped with the sudden kiss. When he thought the kiss would end, it only became deeper. It electrified him deep into his bones, making his fingers curl. His heart hammered and his thoughts became scrambled. He didn’t know what to do with himself, but he knew his body was burning up far more than it should in this cooling weather.
When Gui Yin finally moved back, Langxia could only stare at him silently. There was a rare confusion in those ever-intelligent eyes. It made Gui Yin feel a sense of satisfaction. So much so that he gave Langxia’s reddened lips another light peck.
“You were saying so much dumb stuff I had to shut you up,” Gui Yin said, pushing Langxia away. He pulled at the Qiankun pouch at his side and began to pull out a set of fresh blankets. “Crazy snake.”
Langxia gulped and sat off to the side as Gui Yin fixed up their resting area for the night. His ears thrummed slightly, but he managed to say a few words still: “You know, people usually say I’m cold and heartless.”
Gui Yin glanced at him with a hint of amusement. “Well, I believe that. The reputation you had in the upper realm was crazy. It was to the point that so many people didn’t believe you actually died. They said you were slippery, like a snake. It was like even if you were really gone, your presence would still haunt them. I have to say, I was quite impressed.”
Gui Yin sat down on the bed and smiled up at Langxia. “You could say that’s why I let you keep sending notes. I was interested in what kind of person Huigu Palace’s Palace Lord really was.”
Langxia’s daze faded in an instant. He slowly smirked. “Interested?”
“Mm, interested,” Gui Yin said.
“You weren’t scared?”
“If you actually tried anything, I already knew it’d be easy to get rid of you,” Gui Yin said.
Langxia laughed. He shifted forward again and stuck his face into Gui Yin’s line of vision. He wrapped his arms around Gui Yin’s waist and buried his head into his chest. Gui Yin let out an internal sigh and ran a hand down Langxia’s back. He smiled softly.
“Why are you suddenly so clingy?” Gui Yin asked, pinching Langxia’s exposed neck.
“Are you done being weird?”
Gui Yin stilled in shock. He laughed in a mixture of awkwardness and increduality. “When was I weird?”
“Right. You weren’t being weird,” Langxia chuckled. He stood and He peered outside.
The rainclouds had begun to settle in and the faint sounds of rain hitting the roof reached them clearly.
“We’ll stay here for the night,” Langxia suggested. “Hopefully it’s cleared up by the morning.”
“It’s fine if it hasn’t. We’ll just ride through it.”
Langxia shook his head. “The river at the Western Banks are usually calm, but when met with a rain storm, it becomes torrential. Not to mention, the land around Winding Python Ridge won’t be stable after a rainstorm. The seasons are changing, so the sun won’t be as strong if there are all these clouds. We’d have to be extra if we traveled while it was raining.”
He moved towards Gui Yin and laid down on the barely made bed. He closed his eyes, his arms splayed out like a starfish.
“So, let’s just stay here until the storm settles.”
“Alright,” Gui Yin sighed.
He laid down as well, placing his head against the other’s arm.
The two men remained silent as the sound of rain became more persistent.
Gui Yin could feel the soft circles being drawn on his back. His eyelids felt as if they were growing heavier and heavier, but he fought against his sleepiness. The feeling of seeing secrets that he shouldn’t have seen lingered in the back of his mind. As he forced himself back to drowsiness, he began to softly murmur a story.
“My shizun took me in when I was younger. I wasn’t his first disciple,” Gui Yin said. “I was actually smack in the middle, like I was in my family. There were people older than me, but because a lot of them were from prestigious or well-off families, they were just like a bunch of young masters and misses. I was the only one who knew how to do housework. At some point, most tasks were pushed to me. When Shizun found out, he’d scold them, but I didn’t want to cause disharmony in the peak just because of my presence, so I helped them anyway. Besides, they weren’t bad people. They realized their mistakes after Shizun scolded them.
“It’s pretentious to say, but I was Shizun’s favorite disciple. Even if I wasn’t his first, the title of head disciple fell onto me. And because I had the skills and intellect to back it up, no one argued,” Gui Yin chuckled. “Then, I grew up like that until I was…thirty-one? That’s when Qiao Ceng revealed himself and my Shizun and all my martial siblings sacrificed themselves to seal him.”
Gui Yin titled his head and looked at Langxia, who had turned onto his side at some point to watch Gui Yin.
“Since meeting Qiao Ceng again, everything feels like it happened yesterday,” Gui Yin whispered. He smiled weakly. “It hurts.”
Langxia pulled Gui Yin into a hug and guided Gui Yin’s head to his chest. He placed his chin on the crown of his head and silently dissected the sorrowful feelings that rushed into his soul. Amongst the many, many emotions, he found his own. He lowered his gaze slightly and held Gui Yin even tighter.
“I know I should be over it by now,” Gui Yin said. He shook his head. “If I had faced it head on to begin with, maybe the grieving process would have been shorter.”
“Everyone grieves differently,” Langxia murmured.
“No one grieves like I did,” Gui Yin chuckled, almost self-deprecatingly.
“No matter how you grieve, no one can tell you it’s incorrect,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin’s smile became a little more genuine. He pulled back and looked up at Langxia. “You know, I never told anyone how I was feeling when it happened. It didn’t feel right to whine and complain when I was the source of the problem.”
Langxia’s brows furrowed the slightest bit. Gui Yin’s heart jumped. He shifted upwards and pressed a soft kiss to the furrow and shifted back down into Langxia’s embrace.
“But now I know that wasn’t right,” Gui Yin said. “And it’s because of you.”
Langxia stared over the top of Gui Yin’s head. “I am quite impactful, aren’t I?”
Gui Yin laughed. He teasingly pushed at Langxia’s chest. The man flopped slightly before flipping them over. He laid down against Gui Yin’s chest and closed his eyes.
“I haven’t done anything,” Langxia murmured. “It’s all you. I can say whatever I want and do whatever I see fit, but you are the one who decided to change your mind about things. If you hadn’t, nothing I did or will do would have an impact on you.”
After he was met with Gui Yin’s silence, Langxia shifted to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes.
“Go to sleep, Qinle,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin frowned slightly. He subconsciously reached over and touched Langxia’s arm. “Did you take your medication today?”
Langxia grunted and burrowed his head into Gui Yin’s neck. “I shouldn’t. We’re on a mission. If I take it now, I won’t be at my best. And you’re still recovering, so—”
“If you don’t take it, your arm is going to fall off,” Gui Yin sighed. He sat up and let Langxia slide off of him. He went to Langxia’s belongings and started digging around. “Please tell me you brought it. Otherwise, we’re going back right now.”
Langxia propped himself up and pouted. “I brought it. It’s in that bag.”
After a few more minutes, Gui Yin managed to find the medicine. He looked at the unwilling Langxia and sat down.
“Take it.”
Langxia’s lips pressed together. He glanced at Gui Yin. “But it’s going to hurt.”
“I’ll hug you.”
“It’ll hurt you, I mean,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin rolled his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know you by now? Take it. I’m not afraid of pain.”
Langxia’s face scrunched up slightly, but he still took the medicine in the end. Not too long later, beads of sweat began to form at his forehead. He fell back onto their sloppily made bed and curled in on himself. Gui Yin could feel the spikes of pain, traveling up and down his arm. He looked at Langxia’s pitiful form and scooped him onto his lap. He carefully wiped the sweat from Langxia’s forehead.
“How about we stall our travels tomorrow?” Gui Yin softly suggested.
Langxia shook his head. His voice came out hoarse, in a short gasp, “No. Time is of the essence.”
He shifted closer to Gui Yin and closed his eyes. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. Really.”
Gui Yin frowned, but before he could say anything else, he felt Langxia’s hand squeezing his waist.
“Lay back down,” Langxia said. “Let’s sleep.”
Gui Yin let out a soft sigh, but still complied. He let Langxia plop on top of him like a sack of insentient potatoes, and held him to sleep.
That night was the first night Gui Yin didn’t dream of the past in a long time. He didn’t see Qiao Ceng’s hypocritical face, nor did he see the explosion of lights as the great demon was sealed in the depths of the ocean. He only slept and when he woke up, he was met with Langxia’s peaceful, sleeping expression.
A soft smile graced his lips as he closed his eyes again.
There was no harm in sleeping in a little longer.
i’d classify them as a weirdo4weirdo relationship for sure. Gui Yin forgets he’s like a genius innovator and those folks are never not crazy akxhsjdh
living for the cuddles ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ thanks for the chapter!!
Fr 🙏
Also thank you for the chapter!! <3
100% weirdo4weirdo lmao thanks for reading!
I love their little moments with physical touch, it’s just so wholesome. Must be nice having a significant other….🥲
(Absolutely not eating vinegar)
LOL thanks for reading!