Chapter 280 The Twenty-Fifth Day of Entering a Xuanhuan Novel

Chapter 280: The Twenty-Fifth Day in a Fantasy Novel

When the two returned to the inn where they were staying, only a dim oil lamp was lit in the main hall. The night-shift waiter was propping up his chin, his head bobbing as he dozed off.

Hearing footsteps, the waiter jolted awake. Seeing An Yi and Xie Xuandu return, he immediately put on an ingratiating smile: "You two are back? It's late and damp out—shall I bring some hot water up?"

A gentle smile appeared on An Yi's face, like moonlight—clear, gentle, and captivating. He gave a slight nod. "Thank you, but no need. We'll manage on our own."

The waiter responded with a string of affirmatives and watched the two ascend the stairs one after the other.

An Yi returned to his room and closed the door behind him.

The room was simply furnished. He washed up, changed into a more comfortable plain silk nightshirt, the sash loose, showing off a hint of his elegant collarbones.

He walked to the window and pushed it open.

A chilly night breeze swept in, tousling his loose black hair.

Outside the window was the inn's courtyard. An ancient, leafy tree stood, casting a deep shadow in the moonlight. Beyond Luzhou City, hazy mountain ridges stretched into the night.

Just then, he heard a knock at the door.

Knock. Knock-knock.

An Yi didn't need to ask who it was.

He didn't turn around, still gazing out the window, and said flatly, "Come in."

The door was pushed open, and Xie Xuandu walked in, closing the door softly to shut out the corridor noise.

"Something wrong?" An Yi finally turned to look at him.

Moonlight streamed in through the wide-open window, spilling over An Yi and bathing him in silver light.

Xie Xuandu, by the door, was half-hidden in shadow.

Xie Xuandu stood by the door, not approaching immediately.

His smile faded, leaving only a hungry, intense gaze—but he quickly forced it down. Something complicated churned in his eyes.

He walked over silently, stopping three steps from An Yi, and pulled out a few old, worn thread-bound books from his wide sleeve, handing them over.

"These are—" Xie Xuandu's voice sounded in the silent room: "what that evil cultivator left—notes on poisons and some unorthodox techniques. The ones I gave you earlier didn't have these."

He paused, his gaze resting on An Yi's calm face: "Since you know my past now, I won't hide anything else. Maybe... you'll find these interesting."

An Yi reached out and took the books.

They had a slight weight to them. He casually opened the top one—dense cinnabar-red notes filled the pages, with strange drawings of herbs and venomous bugs, the brushwork had a sinister feel.

He skimmed a few pages, then closed it, his tone flat: "Magic itself isn't right or wrong—it's just a tool. What it does depends on the heart of the person using it."

"I really am interested."

A smile spread over Xie Xuandu's face. He watched An Yi sit down in the chair by the window. The night breeze lifted a few strands of hair against his cheek, moonlight tracing his profile—cool, clear, untouched by the world.

"An Yi." Xie Xuandu spoke, his voice somewhat low and hoarse. He couldn't help asking again, wanting to hear it from An Yi's own mouth.

"What I said on the street earlier... you really don't care?"

He took two steps forward, stopping in front of An Yi's chair, close enough to catch An Yi's faint, cool scent.

An Yi had already put the books into his storage space, planning to copy them for study later before returning them.

At that, he looked up at Xie Xuandu.

His pitch-black eyes looked especially deep in the moonlight, as if they could swallow all light—and they reflected Xie Xuandu's face.

"I told you already." An Yi's tone was very gentle: "I didn't know, so there was nothing to mind. Now that I do..."

He tilted his head, thinking, then gave a verdict that nearly stunned Xie Xuandu: "I think it's just... that."

"Just... that?" Xie Xuandu repeated the words, like he couldn't process what they meant.

He stepped closer, almost right up to An Yi's knees. The clean scent grew stronger, making him want to breathe it in deep.

He stopped, bent down a little, and looked An Yi in the eye: "But I... I'm not a good person. My reasons for getting close to you aren't pure."

He almost seemed to enjoy emphasizing his own flaws.

An Yi frowned almost imperceptibly. "What's your intent?"

Xie Xuandu looked into those calm eyes, and the want inside him broke free.

He lowered himself to one knee in front of An Yi. From there, he had to look up a little to see An Yi's face.

He pressed his cheek against An Yi's knee, against the soft fabric of his nightshirt.

The warmth and weight on his knee made An Yi flinch a little.

Xie Xuandu looked up at An Yi from below, a strange mix of fragile and obsessed.

His throat moved. His voice came out strange, almost dreamy: "What I want... is you."

An Yi looked down at the fuzzy head on his knee, paused, then pressed a finger to Xie Xuandu's forehead and pushed him back, his voice flat: "I belong to myself."

Xie Xuandu didn't get angry. Still looking up, he pressed on stubbornly: "Then will you take me?"

He paused, his voice softer: "Will you let me?"

He lowered his head, and his warm breath, through the thin fabric, brushed An Yi's leg, tickling slightly.

Xie Xuandu raised a hand, brushing a strand of wind-tangled black hair from An Yi's cheek.

His warm fingertips slid down An Yi's smooth jawline, gentle, finally resting on the side of his pale neck.

Under his fingertips, he felt the steady pulse beneath the skin—beat after beat, like knocking on his own heart.

An Yi lowered his lashes, casting a small shadow, and calmly watched the fingers on his neck.

"Let me... get close." Xie Xuandu murmured, his gaze burning into An Yi's eyes.

His fingertips pressed lightly, leaving a faint red mark, then, as if afraid of hurting him, he let up at once. Instead, he lingered with an almost obsessive touch, stroking the small patch of skin he'd marked.