Jinyun watched the pink clouds fly by as they tickled her toes. Her gaze was sharp, like a cat who was preparing to catch a fish. However, her hands never moved from her side, and she only watched as the fishlike clouds swam by.
It wasn’t until she heard movement behind her that she finally looked away from the clouds. But the new arrival hardly made her smile.
“Brat.”
Jinyun rolled her eyes. She stood and walked over to him reluctantly. “Master, when are we going back to the desert?”
“You clearly like it here. Why are you trying to go back to the desert?” Sun Langxia asked as he pulled up the curtains to reveal the inside of his study.
Jinyun’s gaze shifted back and forth. Her little lips were pressed into a pout. “Because…because we’re part of the desert. It’s our duty to protect the people of the desert. Master, the only reason I agreed to follow you was because you said you would return to the desert with me after it was all over. But not only are we still in the plains, we’re in…we’re in the territory of the Celestials!”
Sun Langxia glanced over at the ruby eyes that had become fiery with rage. At the mention of the Celestials, his own chest burned with an anger that flowed through his veins. However, he had long learnt to deal with such anger.
He ruffled the hair of the little spirit beside him. “So, you want to go back?”
“Mn!”
“But our ancestors have long died out. Your own clan was reduced to dust. Even if we return, there’s nothing there for us.”
“But the people—”
“It was never our duty to protect the people,” Sun Langxia said. His gaze darkened. “Our duty was to be bound by the sand until the day it suffocated us and became our grave.”
“Then, why did you help them?” Jinyun snapped.
Sun Langxia met the youth’s gaze. “Me?”
“Yes! You established Huigu Palace to protect the people of the desert, didn’t you? That’s what all the spirits in the desert say! You knew the resentful energy of the Ruby Serpent was out of control, so you spent centuries trying to figure out how to control it. That’s what my granny told me,” Jinyun said. Her fists were clenched at her side as she glared up at Sun Langxia. “You obviously care! Just because you act scary, I’m not going to back down. You want to go back to the desert too, don’t you?”
Sun Langxia remained silent for an unnaturally long time and looked into the slitted eyes that resembled his own. Jinyun was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Just as she was going to shout again, Sun Langxia blinked. But when his eyes opened, they were no longer the color of melted honey. They were a natural brown and the slitted pupils were nowhere to be seen.
“Because I’m also human. And there was once someone who taught me what it was to be human,” Sun Langxia said. He blinked again and his eyes returned to their natural state. “You should be grateful you’re not a mutt like me.”
Jinyun averted her gaze as frustration clouded her mind and vision. Her chest heaved and she stared concentratedly at the ground as she fought back her tears.
Sun Langxia rubbed Jinyun’s short white hair. The girl reached up and swatted his hand away.
“I’m not a hero,” Sun Langxia said as he took his hand back. His finger curled into his palm. “I never claimed to be. I am not righteous. If you believe so, then that is on you.”
“Then why did you save me?” Jinyun snapped.
She remembered the day the cart had turned over and the cultivator had told them to run. She remembered slipping in the sand and she remembered the way everyone had forgotten about her in the chaos. The sand cut through her skin and rubbed her feet raw, but she was still reluctant to leave. She knew that if she followed the others, they would definitely be taken away from the desert.
The desert was her home, where her ancestor had been exiled, where her parents had died, and where her clan had been obliterated. If she was going to die anywhere, she was going to die here.
Just when she had been prepared to bleed out in the sands, just like her mother had, a figure fell over her. His eyes were cold, but there was a trace of pity within them. He had reached out his hand and hoisted her up, only to pass her over to one of his subordinates.
“Why?” Jinyun demanded again, her lips trembling slightly as she looked up at the much taller man.
Sun Langxia lowered his gaze for a moment. In the next, he pinched the girl’s cheeks and gave it a harsh rub.
“Because you looked like me.”
“…What?!”
“I didn’t like that you looked like me,” Sun Langxia said. He released Jinyun and sat down on the ground. His back leaned against the column behind him and he glanced at the little girl again.
It was that gentle look again. It was filled with warmth, despite his cold expression. It was rare, but when it appeared, Jinyun always felt like she had been submerged in a barrel of honey. It was sticky, sweet, and extremely uncomfortable.
“We’re not going back to the desert.”
Jinyun took a deep breath. “I want to!”
“But you already swore a contract with me. Where I’m not going, you are also not going.”
“You—”
“The desert is not a place for a lone child,” Sun Langxia said. He averted his gaze. “If you’re ever not careful, you’ll be swallowed alive. You almost were, weren’t you? Or have these years of comfort made you forget?”
Jinyun pursed her lips and lowered her head.
Spirits aged much slower than humans. Although it had been decades since her mother had been killed and she was kidnapped by Half Moon Cult, she only had the appearance and temperament of a twelve-year-old girl. She still had the memories, of course, but her childish stubbornness persisted.
That was her home. Of course, she would have to return.
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.
“Tbeg jgwr jcv ifur,” Vec Ojcuzlj rjlv. “Cgf atfs kbgxlcu yfaafg cbk?”
Alcsec oilcmtfv ja atf wfcalbc bo tfg ojirf ilwyr. Lfg tfjv qgfrrfv vbkc fnfc oegatfg.
Vec Ojcuzlj rlutfv. “Po la’r gfjiis atf qfbqif sbe’gf kbgglfv jybea, atfc sbe mjc yf ja fjrf. P tjnfc’a jyjcvbcfv atfw.”
Jinyun glanced up.
Sun Langxia spared a rare smile. “I’m human, after all. For however horrible humans are, there is always that hypocritical shred of humanity.”
Jinyun pursed her lips, but still didn’t respond.
“But if you want to go back,” Sun Langxia sighed. “There is little I can do to stop you. However, that would be breaking our contract. If you ever return to the desert without me, we will no longer be master and—”
“You’d abandon me?” Jinyun asked, horror riddled through her voice.
Sun Langxia looked at her patiently. “It would be your choice to leave.”
“But…but where would I go…” Jinyun asked, her eyes tearing up.
Sun Langxia glanced at the pinkish skies. “The world is so large. It would be difficult at the beginning, but when you continue walking, you’ll eventually find the open skies.”
Jinyun felt her nose sour. Unwillingness filled her bones. There was even a tinge of sorrow. The unwillingness was because of Sun Langxia’s stubbornness. The sorrow was because of Sun Langxia’s words. They sounded silly, like what any kind of backwards philosopher would say to comfort someone, but Jinyun somehow knew they were true. Because it was from experience. Sun Langxia’s own experience.
“You’re not even welcomed here,” Jinyun spitefully mumbled. “You’re part human and part exiled dragon. No one in Kunlun even likes you.”
“I know.”
“And you rejected godhood,” Jinyun said. “They’ll hate you even more for being so conceited.”
“I didn’t reject godhood,” Sun Langxia said.
Jinyun glanced up at the man and watched as a genuine smile painted his eyes and warmed his face.
“I traded it for someone much more important,” Sun Langxia said. His lips curved into a gentle smile that he hadn’t even realized appeared. He shifted his gaze to Jinyun. “How about we make a deal?”
Jinyun straightened, her eyes sparkling brightly.
“I will let you go back when you’re of age,” Sun Langxia said. “However, until then, you cannot complain or whine about wanting to return to the desert anymore. Stay here. Experience life. Find something beyond those sand grains.”
To the two of them, the desert was a place of sorrow, death, and torment. It began with the exiling of an ancestor who had never even sinned and it ended with the demise of their loved ones and the near loss of their own lives. But Sun Langxia couldn’t say he didn’t understand Jinyun’s attachment to the desert. He knew what it felt like to miss the hot, rolling sands and the lawlessness of those who lived in the desert. That was why he had allowed Jinyun to remain there until he had needed her help. But now that she was out, he was reluctant to put her back.
The blood that flows through their veins dictate them much more than Jinyun realizes. Their hatred for Celestials, their love for humans, their attachment to the desert—all these things were engrained in their souls. This proved that they were the descendants of the pitiful Southern Dragon. A being so stupid that even after he had been pitted, he never wanted revenge.
Therefore, if Jinyun never leaves the desert, never leaves the shackles that fate had bestowed on her since birth, she would never learn how to truly be free.
And Langxia didn’t want that for her.
If you asked him why, he could give you plenty of reasons.
Because they were related.
Because she was just a child.
Because he finds her pitiful.
Because she reminds him of himself—the child who never got a chance to break free of the desert before the sands swallowed him whole.
“Fate and destiny,” Langxia murmured as he took Jinyun’s hands, “do not dictate your life. We don’t like those Celestials, right? Let’s not let them tell us what we can and can’t do.”
Jinyun stared at Sun Langxia blankly.
“Just be you,” Langxia said. “Not the Ruby Serpent who has the duty to protect the desert. Just you. Alright?”
Jinyun’s little face slowly scrunched up. The tears she had been holding back finally fell forth. She landed in Sun Langxia’s arms and cried and cried. Her words mixed into an incoherent jumble, but none of them truly mattered.
Langxia patiently comforted the child until the skies darkened and the stars shined bright.
Jinyun finally sat up and rubbed her swollen eyes. She sniffled and glanced at Langxia shyly.
“Master…”
“Hm?”
“Can I call you Gege?” Jinyun blurted out. She stilled and quickly tried to remedy her own words. “I-I mean just once! Just…just once. I just…I just think that you’re…quite like an older brother to me. But I also understand if you wouldn’t want that. I mean, we’re distantly related after all, so—”
“Go ahead.”
Jinyun glanced up at Langxia.
“Gege is fine. Langxia-gege is also okay,” he said.
Jinyun’s eyes slowly brightened. She pursed her lips before breaking out into a big grin. She clung onto Langxia’s neck and began a fresh bout of tears.
The child cried and cried until she eventually fell asleep.
Langxia stood and exited his study.
On the other side of the door, a welcomed guest stood with an inquiring look and a bowl of steaming soup.
“What’s this? Asleep?” Gui Yin whispered.
Langxia hummed. He gently patted Jinyun’s back. “She finally stopped throwing a tantrum about going back to the desert.”
“That’s good. That’s good,” Gui Yin mumbled. He frowned slightly and glanced down at the bowl. “Since you two didn’t even come out for dinner, I brought something light for her to munch on, but she’s already asleep.”
“Where’s my food?” Langxia asked.
Gui Yin stared at Langxia indifferently. “You don’t even need to eat, my dear Palace Lord.”
“There is hardly a difference between eating to survive and eating to be fulfilled,” Langxia whispered. “They’re both needed to survive.”
Gui Yin lifted the tray. “Then, do you want this?”
“No, that’s Yunyun’s,” Langxia said. He smiled. “Make me another one.”
Gui Yin rolled his eyes.
“Or how about I make a midnight snack for you?” Langxia asked.
Gui Yin wanted to respond, but Jinyun shifted against Langxia’s shoulder. He pursed his lips and threw Langxia a warning glare. “Go put Yunyun to bed first. We’ll talk later.”
Langxia gave Gui Yin a kiss as he passed by.
When he returned to his room, Gui Yin was already there with a simple meal, laid out at the table. Langxia’s gaze brightened in pleasant surprise. He closed the door behind him and sat down beside Gui Yin. The lord immortal had just opened his mouth to speak, but quickly found that an arm had snaked its way around his waist and he was being pulled onto Langxia’s lap.
Gui Yin’s face flushed. He pushed Langxia weakly and looked down at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Langxia grinned and rubbed his head against Gui Yin’s chest. “Giving you my gratitude.”
“Gratitude,” Gui Yin echoed with a roll of his eyes. He playfully pushed Langxia. “Let me go. How are you going to eat like this?”
“I can eat perfectly fine,” Langxia said. He picked up the chopsticks with his right hand and ate from a few of the dishes to show Gui Yin.
Gui Yin glanced at Langxia’s arm and leaned against him silently. “Finally willing to use your right arm?”
Langxia hummed through a mouthful of food. He swallowed everything and glanced at Gui Yin. “It’s a lot more functional after I awakened my bloodline. It doesn’t hurt much anymore.”
“That’s good,” Gui Yin muttered. He glanced up at Langxia as the man ate his mediocrely cooked food as if it were a palace delicacy. His heart fluttered and he leaned more into Langxia’s embrace. “What were you two talking about for so long? You even skipped dinner.”
“This and that,” Langxia said. He met Gui Yin’s gaze and smiled. “Curious?”
“You know, I don’t actually know that much about you,” Gui Yin said. “I just know about your powers. I know your mother died at a young age. I know the people in your village chased you out. I know you never practiced your handwriting.”
“I practiced,” Langxia defended himself.
Gui Yin narrowed his eyes, but the initial ferocity died out. He snuggled closer. “But I don’t know what happened to you after we separated. Was it very painful? Were you very lonely? How did you feel during those years by yourself before you established Huigu Palace? I feel like you know everything about me, but I don’t even get to know even the tiniest bit about you.”
Langxia listened to Gui Yin’s complaints and felt as if he had just eaten the sweetest candy in the world. He wanted to abandon his meal here and focus on eating something else, but he knew that Gui Yin would be displeased if he ignored his gentle request to learn more about himself. Langxia waffled for a long time before shrugging.
“I just don’t think there’s much to say,” Langxia said. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Perhaps it’s because I stopped experiencing emotions after Qi Du Cult did their experiments, but everything in my life was a blur. I never felt particularly lonely and I didn’t exactly pity myself. The only time I felt any strong emotions was when something about the Celestials or Qi Du Cult came up, but that was anger. I wanted revenge.”
Gui Yin watched as Langxia’s eyes took on a gold glow. He reached up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.
Langxia immediately smiled again. He kissed Gui Yin’s nose. “So, you don’t have to worry about me. On the surface, I would say my life probably doesn’t look great to outsiders, but I felt very little of the pain and sorrow that I should have felt. I suppose Qiao Ceng’s subordinates did me a favor in the end.”
Gui Yin held onto Langxia tightly. When he thought about how Qiao Ceng had despicably come between himself and Langxia and even went as far as to falsify his amnesia to erase Langxia from his memories, he became angry. That man had done so much and he was allowed to be so content in the end. It made his blood boil.
“Don’t make that face,” Langxia said. He pinched Gui Yin’s chin. “I don’t like it when you think about him.”
Gui Yin stared at Langxia in surprise. “How did you know?”
“You’re so even-tempered and sweet, but the only time you look angry enough to murder someone is when you think about that bug,” Langxia said. He nipped Gui Yin’s lip. “He’s completely gone. Don’t think about him anymore.”
Gui Yin pouted. He licked the corner of his lip where Langxia bit him and hummed. He glanced at Langxia and poked his chest. “Is there anything else about you that I can know?”
“You can know whatever you want to know about me,” Langxia said with a smile.
Gui Yin rolled his eyes.
It’s not that he didn’t believe Langxia, but Langxia was also not the type of person to go into great detail about himself. It was as if he found the details of his own life boring. He wouldn’t even complain to Gui Yin when he almost died, so what else could Gui Yin expect?
“What are you planning to do with Yunyun now?” Gui Yin asked.
He had recognized the un-aging little girl the moment he saw her. After all, this girl had been one of the ones in the caravan who cowered in the back and was clearly sustaining horrible injuries. After asking a bit more, Gui Yin realized her identity, which made him even more concerned. Luckily, the mirage of the Ruby Serpent and the resentful energy that was still seeped into the sands of Devil’s Desert would not taint the descendants of the pitiful dragon.
“She’ll stay by my side until she’s old enough to go off on her own,” Langxia said. He hummed. “She can be Huigu Palace’s little princess.”
Gui Yin smiled. “Did you adopt her?”
“Should I? Do you want a daughter?” Langxia asked.
Gui Yin’s face reddened slightly. “How did this become about me?”
“Well, you’re going to be my husband, so of course she would also be your daughter.”
“Stop it,” Gui Yin lightly scolded.
Langxia grinned. He pressed his head against Gui Yin’s shoulder. “No, she won’t be my daughter. She’ll be your sister-in-law.”
Gui Yin rolled his eyes, but didn’t scold Langxia again. “And she agreed?”
“Mn. She was crying while she was calling me gege,” Langxia smiled. “It’s nicer this way, I suppose. I’ll have another pair of hands to manage Huigu Palace.”
Gui Yin watched Langxia eat and smiled to himself. “Do you want to take a trip?”
Langxia glanced at him. “A trip? Where?”
“Anywhere,” Gui Yin said. “We can go back to Half Star Ocean and live a few months there.”
“If you want,” Langxia said with a grin. He set his chopsticks down and hugged Gui Yin by the waist. “But don’t you have your duties as Yunjing Pavilion’s Peak Lord to take care of?”
“Linghuo’s all grown up. He can take care of it,” Gui Yin said with a shrug. He sat up and looked at Langxia properly. “I just want to spend time with you. Just the two of us. We’ve never been able relax together. We were always rushing to do something or go somewhere. Don’t you think that’s such a shame?”
Langxia chuckled. He nodded compliantly. “Alright, whatever you want. As long as you go west, I won’t even think about going east. I’ll follow you to even the ends of the earth.”
Gui Yin smiled. He looped his arms around Langxia’s neck and leaned in for a kiss.
For the longest time, Langxia had only been a wanderer. The only place he considered to be his home exiled him. The only person he wanted to rest with had forgotten about him. He could only watch from a distance as that person’s path diverged further and further from his own. He had nowhere to return to and he did not care for anyone in particular.
He created his own domain—something that he could say he owned, but it felt like a child playing with sand. Although the castle looked magnificent, there was nothing inside. With a simple wave, it would be washed away, never to be seen again. His allies and his attendants were only by his side because they needed him. If he didn’t have the power he held, he was sure he would have never even met them.
Even his very existence was a mistake. The universe and the Heavens despised him. He was unnatural. He was a sin.
The whole world didn’t want him and he didn’t particularly care for this world.
But when he was beginning to grow bored of this existence, that person came back to him.
He was as bright and gentle as Langxia had remembered him. He was patient and caring. He always put others before himself, so much so that he forgot he needed to be cared for too. He was silly. He was a fool. But he was still him.
And the stars, which had always so cruelly told him his existence was meaningless, which told him that he didn’t have a place in this universe, finally showed him a place where he belonged.
Every living being had millions of paths to take, but for Langxia, only one path had a destination.
And it was him.
It had always and only been him.
So, no matter where Gui Yin went, Langxia would follow. Because without him, Langxia would still be an insignificant grain of sand, floating in the vast desert of the universe.
But now, because of him, Langxia finally had a home.
A/N: And that’s it! Thank you so much to everyone who followed me on this journey and were patient with me when the story had to go on its mini hiatuses. I hope you enjoyed the story of how a silly little cultivator realized how loved he was. If you want to know more about my process for “a dream within water”, there will be behind the scenes snippets published on my Ko-Fi for monthly subscribers and one-time supporters (after a month)!
I will see you all again in (hopefully) January, with a new story: “The Young Lord’s Way Out”! Check out the preview of the pilot (a lot has been changed since the first draft though lol), summary, and cover, over on my WordPress!
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
im love them, i love this story, aND HOME!!!!! thank you for writing and sharing (๑˃ᴗ˂)
Thank you so much for coming along for the journey! I’m glad you enjoyed it!!
Thanks for the story<3 Does your next story have a healthy relationship between the main couple btw? I asked this about this story as well before I read it lol
All the content warnings on my wordpress page do not have anything to do with the main couple’s relationship! And as always, there will be TW warnings at the beginning of each chapter and if any part of the story makes you uncomfortable at any time, feel free to drop it :3
That’s great! I don’t mind anything else. I’ll be reading it once it comes out then <3
Nawwwwww I’m gonna miss everyone. I’m glad I decided to read this.
aahh thank you so much for reading!!! ;v; i’m glad you enjoyed it!
This is such an amazingly sweet story, and it has just the perfect amount of angst mixed into it. The plot was just pure perfection, but one point, what exactly are ‘the stars’ LangXia keeps claiming? Is that just him using his prophetic abilities and making it sound all mysterious, or are the stars Gods?
However, the first reason, where he’s trying to be mysterious, is about 90% of the reason he talks about “the stars” lol He likes the confusion and awe it brings people. For some reason, to him, it feels a lot more mystical than just being like “oh yeah, i have this innate power to see visions of the future sometimes”
Thanks for reading! I’m glad you enjoyed it :’D
…and here I thought tis bcs the southern dragon controls the sun > then his surname is Sun (in English term) > sun is a big star > stars helps SLX predict and read fates xD
neways, I love the story and characters (♡˙︶˙♡) Thank you for creating this beautiful work~
nah, he just likes to mess with people LMAO thank youu!!
Thanks so much for the story! It was so beautiful!
thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you , I really enjoyed this story.
THANKS FOR READING!
This was so good 😭😭😭😭
I loved the history and the characters 😭😭😭😭
When I stopped reading for a bit I didn’t knew that it was that close to the end 😭😭😭😭
Thank you for everything!!!
thanks for reading!!!! :DDD i’m glad you enjoyed it!
gah this comment!!! I came back to this after being away for a few days and my heart feels full ;v; thank you so much for reading and commenting! I’m glad you enjoyed the story!!!!!
Gaaaah! I finally had the courage to finish reading this. 🤧
Thank you so much for this wonderful story!
thanks for reading!!!
I loved it, thank you thank you thank you (good things must be said 3 times)
The main and secondary characters are all endearing. I will miss them
aw thank you! i’m glad you enjoyed it ;v;
This was a good story. A fluffy yet angsty tale. I wish there was Snu Snu, but alas not all good BL romances can have everything. 😉
sorry i don’t write nsfw lol thanks for reading