Chapter 17: Death

The boat passed under the bridge and the embankment, just as the bright moon hung from the treetops.

Liu shuang picked up a cup of warmed wine: “Shaoyou, tell me a story.”

His fingers paused: “What would you like to hear?”

“Anything,” Liu shuang said, her eyes devoid of their usual sparkle, her small face buried in the fox fur. Though spring had arrived in the mortal world, she looked sickly and frail.

Liu shuang had lost her heart, but her memories remained. Unsure of what to do, listening to Shaoyou tell stories seemed like a wish she had harbored long ago. Her body moved like a lifeless shell, mechanically acting on the lingering desires of her past.

She had been alone for so long that she sometimes felt as if the paths Shaoyou walked were the ones she should have walked too. The flowing streams and wine cups, the harmonious songs and dances, the countless romantic tales of talented scholars and beauties in the mortal world.

The man before her remained silent for a long while, then began to tell her a story. He wasn’t particularly good at it—his tale lacked novelty and excitement—but Liu shuang listened with utmost attentiveness.

By the time he finished, her long lashes had already closed.

“Shaoyou” suddenly grasped her shoulders, his hands trembling, the force of his grip so painful that Liu shuang’s eyes snapped open.

Seeing his expression, Liu shuang said softly, “I’m sorry, I’m a little tired. Shaoyou, keep talking, I’m listening.”

“Don’t sleep,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“But I’m so tired,” Liu shuang said. “I’ll just rest for a moment, I’ll be fine soon.”

Without waiting for his consent, she was suddenly pulled into a cold embrace. He held her so tightly that it hurt her already fragile body.

She felt the body holding her tremble slightly and wanted to look at his face.

“Shaoyou, what’s wrong?”

He pressed her head firmly against him, preventing her from seeing his expression.

Liu shuang seemed to understand something: “You know I don’t have long to live, don’t you?”

She smiled faintly and reached up to touch his head: “It’s alright, Shaoyou. I’m not very afraid, so don’t be afraid either. Why are you trembling so much?”

“I’m not,” he denied.

His words came out quick and cold, suddenly reminding Liu shuang of someone else. After a long pause, she asked, “Shaoyou, the peace lock I left with you a hundred years ago, can you give it back to me?”

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “I lost it.”

Liu shuang lay in his arms, her tired eyes opening briefly before closing again. The faint gentleness that had surrounded her disappeared, replaced by a subtle chill in the places he couldn’t see.

Liu shuang had never left anything with Shaoyou.

He wasn’t Shaoyou. She had realized it, and so the last breath she had been clinging to couldn’t be released in his arms.

Though Liu shuang had lost the ability to feel joy, she wasn’t foolish. The two of them were so different; she should have recognized it earlier. He was Yan Chaosheng.

But Liu shuang didn’t expose him. Fighting against her weakness, she said to him, “Shaoyou, when it’s daylight, go across the street and buy me a stick of candied hawthorn. I haven’t had one in a long time.”

He remained silent.

“I won’t fall asleep. I’ll wait here for you.”

Only then did he say, “Alright.”

True to her word, Liu shuang stubbornly clung to the last breath, refusing to fall asleep. When the first rays of sunlight fell on her pale cheeks, Yan Chaosheng set her down: “Wait for me, I’ll be back soon.”

Liu shuang wanted to smile, but her face felt stiff, and she couldn’t. She tried to mimic it but had already forgotten how. She said, “Alright.”

He stepped off the boat, and in front of her, fearing she would notice, he didn’t use his ghostly cultivation to teleport away.

Liu shuang slowly sat up, watching him walk away.

She then also stepped off the boat and walked in the opposite direction.

Once she left his protection, the clear sky vanished, replaced by rolling thunder that seemed ready to strike her at any moment.

It had been following her for days. Liu shuang had long known this was her bloodline tribulation, and it had come two months early.

Luckily, she couldn’t feel fear. Liu shuang untied the fox fur, letting it slip from her body. She was dressed in a fiery red wedding gown.

Liu shuang knew she wouldn’t live to see Shaoyou again.

She didn’t know why Yan Chaosheng had come, and in her current state, she wouldn’t dwell on it. Her memories told her to stay far away from Yan Chaosheng. She would rather die under the tribulation than in his arms.

Liu shuang looked up at the dark clouds, sighing wearily. Why did he have to come? It was such a bother, forcing her to drag her exhausted body away.

With that thought, Liu shuang paused, vaguely recalling the girl who had waited day after day on Qingcang Mountain, elated whenever she saw him and Chiyuan together.

But now that he had reappeared beside her, she only felt this way.

A bother.

It turned out that the person she had wanted to wait for and see was no longer Yan Chaosheng.

There was no candied hawthorn vendor on the other side of the bridge. In the end, Yan Chaosheng used his powers to search through the crowd but found nothing.

Frowning, he grabbed a vendor from a sweet soup stall, tossed a spirit stone at him, and said, “Do as I say.”

After a while, the vendor clumsily prepared a stick of candied hawthorn. Before he could offer to redo it, the man had already disappeared, taking the poorly made candied hawthorn with him.

When Yan Chaosheng saw the boat, he pursed his lips for a moment before approaching. He lifted the curtain, and as expected, it was empty.

He lowered his gaze, seeing his transformed face reflected in the river water.

The candied hawthorn fell into the river, ripples spreading and blurring his expression. Yan Chaosheng sat at the bow of the boat, the faint trace of her cold fragrance still lingering in the air.

Yan Chaosheng knew that if he left now, he could still catch up to her.

But he shouldn’t go. He was the ruler of two realms, feared by all in the Eight Desolates. His power was immense, his methods ruthless. And she was just a little immortal grass, heartless and on the verge of disintegration.

Last night, he had already lost control.

He hadn’t done as he had agreed with Wojiang, absorbing the last bit of spiritual energy from her. Instead, he had impulsively chosen to embrace her.

Ripples spread across the water. Yan Chaosheng remembered Wojiang’s words. The divinations of the Kunlun Jimo clan were rarely wrong.

Old Wojiang had said that if he continued on this path, he would one day become the ruler of the Eight Desolates. There was no need for him to chase after a heartless, disintegrating shell.

No one would be so foolish as to not distinguish which path was more advantageous.

Yan Chaosheng was clear-headed. For seven hundred years, he had always known what he wanted and was willing to pay any price for it.

The ghost realm was a mess waiting for him to clean up. The furious Nightmare Princess, the restless clans—every moment he delayed was a waste of time.

Yan Chaosheng abruptly stood and left. After walking several dozen steps, thunder rumbled behind him.

Don’t look back, keep moving forward. He heard a voice say.

He wouldn’t look back. He never regretted anything, never looked back! Since he had never had feelings for her, why go after a broken shell?

Liu shuang pondered for a long time but ultimately returned to the Canglan Blue Immortal Realm.

Using the last bit of immortal energy in her chest, she stumbled to the lakeside. The lake reflected her figure, and she saw that her makeup had smudged, her hair disheveled.

Liu shuang dipped her hand in the water, trying to make herself presentable.

The tribulation thunder above roared menacingly at her. She hummed a song her mother had taught her, embodying the phrase “heartless” to its fullest. She truly had no heart, so she could calmly ignore the fate that awaited her.

The waters of the Canglan Blue Lake were still murky. She had been gone for a few days, and the desolate immortal realm hadn’t recovered, remaining a scene of desolation.

Liu shuang was pleased to see the beauty reflected in the water and thought, if only it would rain.

If a clean, beautiful rain fell, perhaps in a few hundred years, the Canglan Blue would once again be teeming with life.

Perhaps the deities of the Eight Desolates heard her wish, for it began to rain.

The rain quickly soaked her thin clothes. Her wish had come true, so she should have been happy, but no such emotion could be stirred within her.

Raindrops fell into the lake, and she slowly moved to the place where she had been born.

Liu shuang remembered that the elder tree’s true form wasn’t far away. When she was born, she had been so fragile that all the spirits of the Canglan Blue had done their utmost to care for her.

The elder tree had been afraid that the wind would break her branches, and its vast canopy had patiently sheltered her. But now, they were all gone.

The rain grew heavier, a spring rain that could bring life, but the tribulation thunder above became more menacing.

A few days ago, it had been as thick as a finger, but now it was like a giant serpent.

Liu shuang knew better than anyone that she wouldn’t survive this tribulation. Even without the thunder, she couldn’t go on living. Her spiritual consciousness had died the moment she lost her heart.

They say that at the end, people like to recall the regrets of their lives. Liu shuang thought for a long time but couldn’t think of what she regretted.

Perhaps her entire life had been filled with regrets, the blank spaces too vast, and she hadn’t had time to do anything.

The heavy rain pounded her delicate body, and the first tribulation thunder, with the force of a thousand jins, struck down.

The purple lightning struck Liu shuang, tearing her flesh open. Her fingers clutched the dirt, and she looked at the lake that had grown with her in the Canglan Blue.

In her eyes, this spring rain was exceptionally beautiful.

Most people’s tribulation thunder consisted of thirty-six strikes, but hers had eighty-one, each one determined to tear her apart. She was so fragile, yet the heavens seemed to hold her in high regard.

Liu shuang’s eyes grew hazy, her vision blurring. She knew there wouldn’t be a second strike.

She was going to die.

From her chest to her limbs, a gentle pain spread. Fortunately, the sweetness buried in her memories surged forth, a fleeting parade of the happiest moments of her life.

The laughter of the Canglan Blue in the past, her mother’s gentle hands, the beautiful and intricate swing in the courtyard when she was a young lady in the mortal world. Her always stern father, who served as an official in the court, and Shaoyou’s gentle face.

When she made mistakes, Shaoyou would lightly tap her forehead in exasperation, the paths he had walked with her…

At the very end, in her final moments, Liu shuang didn’t expect that her memories would still include Yan Chaosheng.

The first time they had slept together, he had been drunk, smiling at her and asking, “Are you scared?” She had shaken her head, her eyes full of trust.

Yan Chaosheng had chuckled, calling her foolish.

The red quilt had billowed like waves, a night of pleasure. Drunk as she was, Liu shuang had still reminded him, “You forgot to say you love me.”

Yan Chaosheng had remained silent, driving her to the brink of madness.

In the end, she had never heard him say those words.

Liu shuang also remembered the first time she had faced her bloodline tribulation. The sky had been filled with lightning and thunder, and she had known it was coming. Yan Chaosheng had been away with his demon army, and Liu shuang had frantically clutched the Bright Pearl Shaoyou had given her, praying it would help her endure.

She had curled up into a ball, afraid of damaging Yan Chaosheng’s palace and harming her courtyard and Changhuan, so she had quickly found a deserted place to face the tribulation.

As the thunder struck, she had covered her head, not daring to look. Just as it was about to hit her, a figure had shielded her.

Yan Chaosheng had scoffed, almost amused: “Is this how you face a tribulation?”

His face had been livid, but he had let the thunder strike him, the ferocious lightning absorbed into his body. He had grabbed her, mocking her while transferring spiritual energy into her.

Liu shuang had looked up at him in shock, and he had pinched her cheek: “What would you do if I weren’t here? Wait for the thunder to kill you?”

Her heart had raced, the little deer inside her leaping with joy, her eyes bright as she looked at him: “My husband will always be here.”

He had suppressed a smile, but in the end, he had laughed: “Such wishful thinking!”

Now it seemed that all that dependence had been misplaced. Mountains can crumble, and people can leave. In this world, the only one you can truly rely on is yourself. It was a pity she had let Mistress Chu have Shaoyou’s Bright Pearl. She should have found a way to get it back. But now, she had completely excised Yan Chaosheng from her life.

Before the second tribulation thunder struck, Liu shuang’s vision completely blurred.

She had waited for the spring of the mortal world, but she would never live to see the spring of the Canglan Blue. She wouldn’t see the revival of all things, the future of the Canglan Blue.

Liu shuang’s long lashes closed, her fingers loosened, and amidst the storm, the tribulation thunder slowly dissipated.

She died early, so she didn’t see the figure stumbling toward her in the rain.

The once mighty demon lord Yan Chaosheng, in that moment, couldn’t even summon a cloud to ride.