From that day onward, an unclean undercurrent crept into the way Yan Qingge looked at Bai Qingran.
She had seen his every smile and frown a thousand times, yet those once ordinary moments of gentleness now became barbed fishhooks that sank precisely into the softest part of her heart.
The slightest tug brought a gut-wrenching ache.
Whenever she was with him, she would stare dazedly at that peerless face.
Snow-white robes, fox ears twitching faintly—she would lose herself completely, the corners of her mouth lifting into a foolish smile without her realizing it.
Every time this happened, Bai Qingran would helplessly flick her forehead or pinch her cheeks like dough.
“Brother is talking to you. What’s going on in that little head of yours?”
Those narrow fox eyes were filled with the unrestrained spoiling and doting of an older brother for his little sister.
“S-sorry, Brother Qingran.”
Yan Qingge snapped back to herself and lowered her head to hide her expression.
“Is there anything you want? I’ll buy it for you tomorrow.”
“You little rascal.”
A jade finger tapped her forehead as Bai Qingran laughed softly.
“The mung bean cakes from the shop at the foot of the sect mountain—Brother hasn’t had any in a long time. Bring some back for me tomorrow, all right?”
“No way. Their mung bean cakes can’t compare to the ones Brother makes.”
Yan Qingge immediately turned coquettish.
“Make some for me, okay?”
“You little troublemaker. Weren’t you the one asking what Brother wanted?”
Although Bai Qingran scolded her, there was no trace of anger in his voice.
“Bleh.”
Yan Qingge stuck out her tongue and nimbly dodged his hand.
In this small courtyard, their daily playful bickering felt more precious to Yan Qingge than all the gold in the world.
The next day, Yan Qingge contentedly swallowed the last bite of mung bean cake.
She licked her lips, lazily rubbed her belly, and was about to clear the dishes when Bai Qingran’s calm voice sounded.
“Qingge, I have to go out tomorrow. Guard the mountain gate well.”
Yan Qingge’s heart clenched sharply.
Ever since Bai Qingran had taken her in, his absences had grown more and more frequent.
At first it was once a year, then every six or seven months, then every four or five months.
Now he disappeared for days every two or three months.
Each time he returned, his injuries were worse than before.
Dark, ominous qi coiled around him—cold and violent.
That black qi felt familiar yet terrifying.
Every time she drew near, her blood would boil for no reason and negative emotions would surge like a tide, impossible to suppress.
At those moments, Bai Qingran would force his damaged body to keep going and urge her to circulate the Calming Heart Art.
“Brother, can I go with you? Just… just tell me what you’re doing, okay? I’m worried about you.” Yan Qingge stepped forward and clutched his sleeve tightly.
Bai Qingran stroked her head gently.
A sorrow she could not understand flickered in his eyes. “Qingge, you must practice the Calming Heart Art diligently. It is very important to you.
Before long, you will understand what Brother is doing… Brother has already made it very weak.
By then, Qingge will be fine.”
These cryptic words left Yan Qingge confused.
She could only swallow her unease and stand guard over their small courtyard like an immortal stone statue, quietly waiting for Bai Qingran’s return.
***
He was gone for more than half a month this time.
Bai Qingran returned in the dead of night.
This was the worst he had ever been injured. Large patches of his snow-white fox tail—normally as smooth as satin—were scorched black.
Several wounds on his body cut straight to the bone. His entire aura was withered and weak.
With every step he took, the surrounding space seemed to twist strangely, as though something viscous was watching him—and watching Yan Qingge as well.
Yan Qingge stayed by the bedside almost without blinking, her eyes red.
His injuries felt as if they had been carved into her own heart, the pain nearly suffocating her.
“Brother, please tell me what’s really going on. Qingge is grown up now. I can help you share the burden.” Yan Qingge’s voice was hoarse from crying, trembling with near-begging.
“Cough… cough… Qingge, you must master the Calming Heart Art.”
Bai Qingran coughed weakly. His red pupils were unfocused yet gentle.
“Cough… cough… Our Qingge will soon grow into a woman who can stand on her own.”
Bai Qingran fell into a deep sleep. His long lashes cast fragmented shadows beneath his eyes. Yan Qingge sat by the bed.
A strange feeling suddenly rose in her chest. As if possessed, she stopped circulating the Calming Heart Art.
The originally gentle red candle flame in the room flared wildly as if startled.
The firelight stretched and shattered their shadows, twisting and overlapping madly across the mottled walls.
Bai Qingran’s pale, dry lips trembled faintly.
He looked like a delicate flower battered by a storm, falling helplessly into the mud—heartbreakingly beautiful.
Yan Qingge picked up the porcelain spoon with slightly trembling fingers and fed him water.
Her mind was in chaos; the water slipped from the corner of his mouth and seeped into the collar of his white robes, tracing a shocking wet arc.
She reached out.
Her fingertips slid from his cool cheek to the corner of his lips, then pressed gently against the soft petals.
She applied faint pressure, feeling the cool warmth.
A shiver shot straight up her spine to her brain.
She wanted to taste it.
She wanted to know how exquisite it would feel to kiss those lips.
Yan Qingge leaned down.
Her black hair fell and tangled with his messy white strands on the pillow. In her pitch-black pupils burned a possessive desire hotter than the candle flame.
A feather-light kiss landed at the corner of Bai Qingran’s mouth.
Delicate. Soft. The transgressive pleasure made Yan Qingge’s whole body tremble.
She lifted her head and greedily stroked his face. The love in her eyes was no longer hidden—it was so intense it felt almost solid.
Just as she was about to capture those vermilion lips completely, Bai Qingran’s eyelids suddenly twitched.
Bang!
Yan Qingge felt as if she had been struck by lightning.
She tumbled backward in panic and slammed hard into the chair.
What had she almost done while Bai Qingran was injured?
She had tried to take advantage of her master?
Yan Qingge’s chest heaved violently. Her eyes widened.
Guilt, longing, selfishness, and fear tore her apart in that instant.
She didn’t dare look at the person on the bed again.
The candle flame flickered wildly. Yan Qingge fled the room as if escaping for her life.
Never before had she been so terrified of her own desires.
Inside the room, Bai Qingran slowly opened his eyes. They were filled with exhaustion and bitterness as deep as a tsunami.
He raised a weak hand and gently brushed the corner of his lips that had just been kissed.
“Yan Qingge…” A soft sigh echoed in the empty room. “Just now… you nearly killed both of us…”
***
After that night, Bai Qingran changed.
The change was silent yet bone-deep. He no longer joked with her.
His tone became as cold as snow. All the once-intimate gestures disappeared.
The daily meals they had shared every day were now reduced to a single, icy meal once a week.
One day, Bai Qingran stood with his hands behind his back and looked straight at her, his red pupils cold as ice.
“Yan Qingge, you are eighteen now. You are no longer a child. From today on, stop calling me Brother. Call me Master instead.”
Of course she refused. She wanted to argue, to demand answers. But when she met those icy red eyes, Yan Qingge lost her nerve.
She wanted to ask if he had been awake that night. If he… knew what unforgivable thing she had done.
But she was a coward.
She was afraid that once that thin layer of paper was pierced, they would no longer even be master and disciple.
The change happened too quickly, as if her heart were being roasted over and over on a spit. In the sensitive emotions of the young girl, a toxin named “hate” began to grow.
She hated Bai Qingran’s indifference.
She hated his purity. She hated how he could still calmly assume the role of master after such intimacy.
Since you refuse to pay attention to me, I’ll make you so angry that you have no choice but to look at me!
The ridiculous, childish idea grew wildly like weeds in her heart. She wanted to shatter Bai Qingran’s cold mask.
She wanted to see him angry, see him lose control—even if he hit her or scolded her, it would be better than this suffocating distance.
So Yan Qingge brought a girl back.
She deliberately announced in front of Bai Qingran that this was her partner.
Only she knew that when she said those words, it felt as if a blunt knife were slowly slicing open her heart.
Yan Qingge stared fixedly at Bai Qingran, trying to find even a trace of jealousy or pain on that perfect face.
But Bai Qingran simply sat there quietly, like still water without the slightest ripple.
He politely invited the girl to sit, prepared a huge table of delicious dishes, and even opened a bottle of treasured spiritual wine he had kept for years.
“Qingge has grown up and brought back the girl she likes. Master is very happy.”
Bai Qingran raised his cup, his smile so proper it was heartbreaking.
“As long as you like her, Master won’t stop you. Treat her well and take responsibility for the young lady.”
In that instant, Yan Qingge heard her own heart shatter.
She felt like a clown trying to get an adult’s attention by hurting herself, only to receive a bland “you’ve grown up.”
Cup after cup of wine burned bitterly down her throat.
Yan Qingge watched numbly as the girl chatted happily with Bai Qingran, yet she herself could not utter a single word.
She could only seek momentary numbness in the bitter liquor.
She could not remember how she left the courtyard.
In a deserted corner, Yan Qingge finally exploded.
“You were chatting so happily with my master earlier! Is he good-looking? Do you have feelings for him?! Speak!”
The girl was terrified by her ferocious expression and shrank back, sobbing.
“Weren’t you the one who asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend… You still haven’t paid me the rest of the spirit stones…”
Yan Qingge gritted her teeth, her eyes dark. She grabbed a handful of spirit stones from her robe and hurled them to the ground.
“Get lost! Take the money and get out of my sight!”
The girl snatched up the stones and scrambled away.
The plan had failed miserably.
Bai Qingran was unaffected, while Yan Qingge herself was nearly driven mad.
For one brief moment she even wanted to rush back, tear away that eyesore of a white robe, and drag the lofty god completely into the mud.
Even if tomorrow brought an abyss of eternal damnation, she would carve her name into those red pupils.
But when she imagined her own desire-twisted, jealous, and possessive face reflected in those clear eyes, the fear and guilt of defiling a god nearly tore her apart on the spot.
Shing!
The sword left its sheath.
Under the cold moonlight, Yan Qingge swung it wildly, trying to vent the turmoil inside her.
In the end, the sword slipped powerlessly from her hand.
Yan Qingge collapsed to her knees in the moonlight.
She covered her face with trembling hands and let out the long-suppressed sobs.
“I’m sorry… Bai Qingran… I love you… I really, really love you…”
“Why… won’t you look at me again…”