Yu Ying didn’t say a word, her gaze simply fixed, unblinking, on Ni Wenhui.

Ni Wenhui knew that someone was staring at her through Yu Ying’s eyes.

No… it wasn’t someone, but rather something.

Because it wasn’t a person at all.

Ni Wenhui couldn’t remember when it first started appearing by her side, but by the time she became aware of its existence, it had already possessed many of the people around her.

It knew everything about her—things others knew and things no one else did.

It told her that it was the primary consciousness of this world, and it needed to use others’ hands to accomplish one thing: to clear out what didn’t belong to this world.

But it couldn’t directly kill that person. It needed to maintain the world’s balance. It wanted that person to die naturally in some “accident.”

Though it didn’t name names, Ni Wenhui easily figured it out.

That person was Mi Lu.

Mi Lu, who, despite being part of the righteous faction, had followed HuLü Yan to the Demon Realm without hesitation.

It said that everything began because of Mi Lu, and his appearance had caused things to spiral out of control.

If Mi Lu disappeared, it would regain the power to control the world, and then it could easily prevent the impending disaster.

Naturally, Ni Wenhui didn’t believe it so easily.

But by now, she had no choice.

With the Yun Yan Sect tied to the Wen family, they were like ants on the same string—there was no convincing her mother to distance herself from this struggle. Yet she couldn’t just stand by and watch Yun Yan Sect meet the same fate as the HuLü family, crushed in an uneven fight.

This was the only option left she could try.

After organizing the mess of thoughts in her mind, Ni Wenhui took a deep breath, lifted her gaze to Yu Ying, and said softly, “I’ll do as you said, but you must remember your promise.”

“I remember it always. Go without worry,” Yu Ying answered in an odd tone.

Ni Wenhui murmured a low acknowledgment.

Yu Ying didn’t leave. She stayed where she was.

Ni Wenhui waited a moment, then couldn’t help but ask, “Is there something else you want to say?”

Yu Ying’s gaze was unnervingly straightforward, locked onto Ni Wenhui’s face as if she could see right into her deepest thoughts.

Feeling awkward under her gaze, Ni Wenhui touched her face.

Then she saw Yu Ying slowly pull out a stiff smile and said, “There’s no need to feel guilty. You’re just taking back what’s rightfully yours.”

Ni Wenhui was stunned by this.

“Haven’t I told you? HuLü Yan and Mi Lu were never meant to cross paths. You were supposed to be the one closest to HuLü Yan. But Mi Lu took your place and pushed you aside,” Yu Ying’s strange tone carried a hint of temptation. “Mi Lu is just a thief who stole what was yours. Do you still need to care about a thief’s feelings when you’re driving them away?”

Ni Wenhui shook her head. “I’m not thinking about that.”

“Then what are you hesitating about?”

“I just…” Ni Wenhui abruptly stopped, a conflicted expression crossing her face. She stayed silent for a moment, unable to voice her inner worry.

She was just afraid that this wouldn’t change anything, and might even make things worse.

Somehow, she had a bad feeling, as if this matter wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

But she had no other choice.

—

Mi Lu had a very long sleep.

His consciousness felt heavy, as though it had sunk to the bottom of a pool, with waves washing over him layer upon layer, each pressing down more heavily.

After what seemed like an eternity, a faint sense of buoyancy lifted his awareness.

Upward.

And upward.

Higher still.

Finally, he broke the surface.

At that moment, Mi Lu regained a very real sensation: he felt a hand slowly tracing over his cheek, as if carefully sketching the outline of his features. The fingers lingered on his lips before moving downward.

His mind had no time to react, but his body, out of reflex, opened his mouth and bit down on the finger.

The finger’s owner paused, evidently taken aback.

Mi Lu’s eyelashes fluttered, and after a brief struggle, he slowly opened his eyes.

A face was right in front of him, so close that their noses almost touched.

Their eyes met.

In those dark pupils, Mi Lu saw his own pale, confused face. Then, in a flash, a feeling called joy flooded those black eyes, filling them completely.

That beautiful face drew closer, and a pair of cool lips kissed his cheek.

Mi Lu, dazed, loosened his bite.

But the thumb that he had just bitten didn’t pull away. Instead, it gently pressed against his lips, while the other four fingers cradled his chin.

“HuLü…”

Mi Lu barely got out two words before HuLü Yan kissed the corner of his mouth.

HuLü Yan’s warm breath washed over his face, like little pecks, soft and delicate at the corner of his mouth.

This state didn’t last long, though.

When Mi Lu tried to speak again, HuLü Yan’s thumb slipped away, only to firmly cover his lips again.

Mi Lu felt dizzy from the kisses, his oxygen robbed by HuLü Yan. A sense of suffocation crept in, and he had no choice but to press a hand to HuLü Yan’s chest.

Only when HuLü Yan pulled back did Mi Lu take a deep breath, as if coming back to life.

Lack of oxygen had brought tears to his eyes, making everything blurry, including HuLü Yan’s face.

Wiping the tears onto HuLü Yan’s clothes, he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace.

HuLü Yan didn’t move at all, his strong arms locking him in place.

Mi Lu found a comfortable spot in HuLü Yan’s embrace, resting his cheek against HuLü Yan’s chest, letting him hold him in peaceful silence.

But after a moment, something struck him, and he reached to feel his chest.

No pain.

No wound.

The arrow that had pierced his chest left nothing behind, as if it had never happened.

Mi Lu patted his chest through his clothes uncertainly, wanting to check his wound directly. But just as he reached the edge of his shirt, HuLü Yan grabbed his hand.

HuLü Yan looked up at him. “What are you feeling for?”

Mi Lu replied, “Why’s my wound gone?”

“It’s healed.” HuLü Yan hugged him tighter, burying his face in Mi Lu’s neck, and patted his back reassuringly. “It’s fine now. Everything’s fine.”

Sensing something wrong, Mi Lu began to struggle in his arms.

HuLü Yan wanted to let him rest, but Mi Lu’s restlessness kept him moving around.

“Enough.” HuLü Yan rolled over and pressed down on him, warningly squeezing Mi Lu’s waist. “Stop it. I want to sleep a little.”

Mi Lu tilted his chin defiantly. “Let me see you.”

HuLü Yan grumbled. “What’s there to see?”

“Hurry up!” Mi Lu slapped his back without holding back, pushing him and urging loudly, “I want to see you!”

HuLü Yan froze under his slap.

Taking a closer look, Mi Lu finally noticed how pale HuLü Yan was, with faint dark circles under his eyes—signs of exhaustion.

HuLü Yan had visibly lost weight, his cheekbones more pronounced, and his lips a faint bluish hue.

It had been a long time since Mi Lu had seen HuLü Yan look this worn down.

Frowning, Mi Lu grabbed his wrist, lifted his sleeve, and saw the shocking scars on his arm.

Scars, close and neatly spaced, wound from his wrist upwards, like rough ropes coiling towards his elbow.

These were knife wounds.

Though they had healed, their severity was apparent, each cut so deep that the bone must have been visible.

Mi Lu gasped, his grip trembling slightly.

He raised his eyes to HuLü Yan, only to find him calm, as if those scars weren’t even his. He pulled his hand away, placing it lightly on Mi Lu’s back. “It’s all in the past.”

Mi Lu wasn’t a fool; he knew those cuts had been self-inflicted.

Why would someone cut their arm?

Obviously, to draw blood.

And why draw blood?

The answer was even clearer.

There was no metallic taste in Mi Lu’s mouth, suggesting his lips had been cleaned, but he knew he’d drunk HuLü Yan’s blood—a lot of it.

His own strong condition proved it. And so did HuLü Yan’s exhausted state.

Mi Lu felt a knot in his throat.

For an instant, a foreign sensation blanketed him like a dark cloud, heavy as cotton, stuck at his heart.

He heard his own hoarse voice say, “Aren’t you supposed to cherish your life? Don’t you fear bleeding to death?”

HuLü Yan forced a faint smile, pressing his cold lips to Mi Lu’s forehead. “I won’t die. Neither will you.”

Mi Lu was stunned.

HuLü Yan pulled him back into his arms. “We’ll both live well.”

He paused, then added, “It’s snowing outside. Let’s sleep a little and then go watch the snow.”

Mi Lu blinked. “What’s so special about snow?”

“It’s beautiful,” HuLü Yan muttered, “I never found it beautiful as a child. But after losing my sight, I realized snow is truly beautiful.”

Mi Lu pressed his lips tightly.

HuLü Yan closed his eyes and sighed into Mi Lu’s neck. “It’s white, soft, and cool to the touch. Seeing it with you makes it even more beautiful.”

Hearing this, Mi Lu couldn’t respond.

In the next moment, without warning—

Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, unable to stop.

The sensation in his heart expanded, swallowing him whole.

Soreness spread across his chest, stinging faintly.

The dark, narrow little room that had imprisoned him seemed to shatter with a crisp crack, as countless cracks spread across the walls like blooming flowers.

Mi Lu took a deep breath, suddenly rolling over, his expression tense. Almost desperately, he pressed his hands onto HuLü Yan’s shoulders, his voice slightly trembling. “Forget about the snow. Look at me.”

With that, one hand slowly loosened, reaching for his own shirt.