Two years passed in the blink of an eye, swift as a white colt flashing past a gap.
Tomorrow, Yan Qingge would turn twenty.
As a heavenly prodigy of the sect, Heavenly Mist Sect had prepared an extravagantly luxurious birthday banquet for her.
Countless people from every corner of the sect gathered to keep her company as they waited for midnight—the moment she would officially shed her youth and step into adulthood according to the rites.
Yan Qingge had personally written countless gilded invitations.
The only name missing from them was Bai Qingran’s.
In those two years, their relationship had plummeted to freezing point.
After the first girl, Yan Qingge had fallen into a stubborn, self-destructive spiral.
She brought several more girls back, refusing to give up. Without exception, Bai Qingran always maintained that same proper, generous, and perfectly gentle demeanor.
Finally, one day Yan Qingge lost control completely.
She screamed hysterically, demanding to know what feelings Bai Qingran actually had for her. When he answered with “brotherly affection,” rage surged through her.
She snatched up the rattle drum she treasured like a priceless jewel and smashed it violently against the ground.
“Then why did you even pick me up?!”
The sharp, heart-piercing crack of the rattle drum shattering made the world spin.
Yan Qingge’s blood ran ice-cold in an instant.
Regret flooded her.
Panic left her at a loss, frozen in place.
She wanted to apologize, but her throat felt blocked by rusted iron. Not a single sound came out.
The pain and sorrow in those red pupils nearly drowned her, yet Bai Qingran only took a few deep breaths, slowly crouched down, and picked up the fragments one by one.
When he looked up again, his expression was even gentler than before. He stepped forward and gently took her hand. “Qingge, are your hands hurt?”
This was the same gentleness that had once pulled Yan Qingge out of hell.
Now she hated it with every fiber of her being.
What she wanted was a blazing passion that would burn them both to ashes, not this eternally lukewarm, almost merciful tenderness.
She violently shook off his hand, ignoring the shattered look on his face, and slammed the door behind her as she left.
After that, Yan Qingge never returned for their weekly master-disciple meals.
During those cold-war days, she would hide not far from the small courtyard gate and watch the lamp left burning for her inside glow from night until dawn, only to slowly extinguish in the morning light.
Each time, her heart felt as if it were being scraped raw by a coarse file.
She wanted to rush in, hug that cold white figure, and tell him, I’m here. I never forgot to come back for dinner. But she also hated his “heartlessness.”
Yan Qingge unilaterally tried to break the shackles binding them both.
She even harbored vicious thoughts of dragging Bai Qingran into the mud so he would become as filthy as she was.
Yet why—why wouldn’t he ever abandon her?
Some things, like that rattle drum, once broken, could never be mended.
The banquet was livelier than ever.
Countless faces blurred before Yan Qingge’s eyes. Wine cups clinked amid piled-up laughter.
Envy, jealousy, and resentment hid in every gaze—none of them carried genuine, heartfelt concern for her.
Yan Qingge’s heart felt bitterly cold.
She regretted it again. She should not have spitefully left Bai Qingran off the guest list.
She lowered her head in grievance, and her crumpled, tear-streaked face reflected back at her from the wine cup.
At some point the surrounding clamor faded. A familiar floral scent drifted into her nose.
Yan Qingge lifted her head.
Through tear-blurred eyes, that snow-white figure appeared like a solitary moon, arriving exactly as promised.
She rubbed her nose hard and stubbornly turned her face away.
“What are you doing here? I didn’t send you an invitation.”
Before she finished speaking, tears spilled from her eyes.
Bai Qingran walked slowly to her side, took out a plain white handkerchief, and gently wiped away her tears. His voice was soft as a fragile dream.
“I’m sorry. It’s Master’s fault. Even though Qingge didn’t invite me, I shamelessly came anyway. Please don’t cry, all right?”
Tears fell like broken beads, soaking the handkerchief.
Bai Qingran said nothing more.
He patiently kept wiping until Yan Qingge’s sobs finally stopped.
Bai Qingran sat beside her and rested his head lightly on her shoulder.
His voice was gentle yet carried an unmistakable weariness.
“Our Qingge has grown taller. You used to be such a little tail following behind Brother all the time. When did you become taller than Brother? Qingge has become a real adult who can stand on her own now.”
Bai Qingran spoke of the past in a soft, nostalgic murmur.
Yan Qingge listened quietly, as if she had returned to the days when he would sit by her bed and tell her bedtime stories.
Bang!
Pa!
Brilliant fireworks exploded in the sky. Black pupils and red pupils forever etched this fleeting, illusory beauty into memory.
“Qingge, happy twentieth birthday.”
The moment the words fell, the surroundings suddenly froze in eerie stagnation.
People raising their cups to toast her moved as if in slow motion.
Their features stretched and distorted, their voices tearing into ear-piercing static.
Yan Qingge looked down at the wine in her cup. It had become thick, blood-red.
Strange—it had been clear and pure just moments ago!
A chill shot up her spine. She whirled around in panic.
Thank the heavens, Bai Qingran was still there.
Before she could even catch her breath, a massive cracking sound boomed from afar—the sound of the illusion shattering!
The once-grand banquet hall peeled away piece by piece.
Guests dissolved into green smoke.
Everything around them shrank at terrifying speed, collapsing into a despairing silence.
“Brother…” Yan Qingge grabbed Bai Qingran’s hand in terror.
She followed his gaze and saw it locked on the entrance of the hall.
A twisted, deformed mass of pitch-black shadow stood there. Countless tentacles writhed like venomous snakes.
The nauseating, ominous death qi was so dense it had almost liquefied. Yan Qingge’s pupils contracted sharply.
This aura was identical to the black qi that clung to Bai Qingran every time he returned wounded from his mysterious trips.
“Qingge.” Bai Qingran rose abruptly. His red pupils burned with resolute determination. He gently stroked the top of her head.
“We can only succeed. We cannot fail. Circulate the Calming Heart Art! Brother will buy you the last bit of time!”
With those words, the white figure transformed into a solitary streak of cold light and shot straight toward the darkness!
The sword left its sheath.
There was no ringing clash of metal—only the heavy, dull sound of a blade sinking into soft flesh.
Thud.
Black smoke gushed from the wound. Three tentacles stabbed toward him at once.
Bai Qingran twisted his waist with all his strength to dodge.
The black tentacles tore through his white robes, leaving a dark blood trail across his snow-white skin.
The black qi, like a beast scenting fresh meat, frantically burrowed into his meridians.
Bai Qingran’s movements slowed instantly. His face turned paper-white.
The shadow seized the opening, its tentacles morphing into a giant blade that slashed down from above!
In a flash, Bai Qingran raised his sword to block. Boom! The impact shook the space.
The floor tiles beneath his feet shattered.
A streak of crimson slid from the corner of his mouth, shockingly vivid against his pale skin.
“Brother!”
Yan Qingge’s eyes nearly split with rage. She moved to rush forward.
“Don’t move! Circulate the Calming Heart Art!”
Bai Qingran roared, raising his sword once more to tangle with the shadow.
Black and white intertwined in the collapsing void. Every collision felt as if it were shattering their souls.
Just a little longer… soon you’ll be able to kill me, Qingge… Bai Qingran clenched his teeth.
His body was already in ruins inside, but as long as he could carve out this chance for Yan Qingge, even if he was torn to pieces, it would be worth it.
The tentacles swept across with overwhelming force.
Bai Qingran was flung away like a kite with its string cut.
His body smashed through several stone pillars.
A large mouthful of blood mixed with shredded organs sprayed out.
Yan Qingge could endure no more.
She forcibly stopped circulating the Calming Heart Art, grabbed her long sword, and charged straight at the shadow without regard for anything.
But in that instant, bone-chilling cold froze her entire body.
The shadow had been waiting for her to throw herself into its trap!
The moment she was locked onto by the enemy, marrow-deep ice made Yan Qingge’s spine go cold.
She realized she could not move.
Her limbs felt weighted with lead.
The pressure around her was so heavy it seemed ready to crush every bone in her body.
This was an absolute gulf in strength.
The shadow’s killing intent alone had paralyzed her meridians.
Yan Qingge understood that with her current power, she had no chance of defeating the monster before her!
Despair crashed over her like a tsunami, shattering her will to fight.
She smiled bitterly and let go of her sword.
It clattered loudly onto the floor, the sound piercing in the ruined banquet hall.
She stared at the tentacle stabbing toward her heart and closed her eyes in resignation.
So be it. If she could buy Brother Qingran even a sliver of a chance…
A bitter smile tugged at Yan Qingge’s lips.
Tears fell through the air.
With her last ounce of strength, she screamed in her heart, I should have invited you today.
Then I would have told you loudly—I love you! Bai Qingran!
Yet the expected pain never came.
A blood-soaked white figure charged forward and crashed in front of her.
The sound of flesh being pierced exploded beside her ear.
Scorching red splashed across half her face.
Yan Qingge’s eyes flew open.
The scene before her made her body shake violently. Bai Qingran stood shielding her.
That black tentacle had completely pierced through his chest.
His body convulsed in agony.
Snow-white hair clung to his chest, matted with blood.
Those once ruby-like pupils were gradually losing focus, yet they still stared fixedly at her, as if confirming she was safe.
Bai Qingran tremblingly reached out a blood-covered hand and gently pinched Yan Qingge’s cheek.
“You… cough cough… I told you not to come over, silly…”
In the next second, a despairing wail tore through the deathly silent sky.