Chapter 286 The Thirty-First Day of Entering a Xuanhuan Novel
Chapter 286 The Thirty-First Day of Entering a Xuanhuan Novel
Chapter 286: Day 31 of Being Transmigrated into a Fantasy Novel
The instant their skin touched, Xie Xuandu's breath caught completely, leaving only the soft, cool sensation of skin and An Yi's lips, so close he could feel their gentle breath.
"Then let's try it." An Yi's voice was soft: "We've got plenty of time."
Seeing Xie Xuandu's eyes light up with astonishing brilliance, he added, his tone gentle: "I'll take my time falling in love with you."
Not now, but it was a promise for the future.
Xie Xuandu stared at him, stunned, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
Then he wrapped both arms around An Yi and hugged him tight.
He buried his face in the crook of An Yi's neck, breathed in deeply that cool, faint scent that haunted his dreams, and then laughed, the sound tinged with an uncontrollable, almost sobbing joy.
"An Yi..." His voice came out muffled: "I love you so damn much."
He finally said the words that had been circling in his heart for so long.
An Yi felt a little uncomfortable being squeezed so tight, shifting slightly, but he didn't pull away.
Hearing those fervent, blunt words of love right by his ear, the corner of his mouth curled up slightly: "Mm."
He responded: "I like you too, you know."
Not love. Just like.
But that was more than enough.
Caught up in his wild joy, Xie Xuandu held the warm, soft body in his arms, feeling An Yi's gentleness. The desire he'd forcibly suppressed just moments ago began to stir again, rearing its head.
He held An Yi, dipped his head, and his burning lips landed on An Yi's elegantly curved shoulder again. He even clumsily tried to use his teeth to pull open the already loose collar of An Yi's nightgown, trying to explore more hidden places...
An Yi had had enough.
The tender mood from just moments ago was instantly ruined by this pushy move.
He raised his hand, cupped Xie Xuandu's face again, and shoved him back, cutting off his downward advance.
An Yi looked at those phoenix eyes that were practically screaming "I want it," and said, at a loss for words: "Is this really what we're doing on day one of being together?"
Xie Xuandu, having been pushed away, was reluctant to give up. He craned his neck and leaned in to kiss An Yi's face again, his tone stubborn and insistent: "Yes, I do!"
An Yi: "..."
There was just no reasoning with this lunatic.
He didn't bother arguing anymore. With a flick of his mind, he tossed Xie Xuandu out.
The next second, Xie Xuandu's vision blurred and his body went weightless. By the time he came to, he was already standing outside An Yi's door.
The door in front of him clicked shut, crisp and final, right before his eyes.
Xie Xuandu stood in the silent hallway, stunned for a moment.
He raised his hand and touched the spot on his face where An Yi's cool fingertips and that palm print still seemed to linger, then replayed the intimacy of foreheads touching and noses brushing just moments ago, as well as An Yi's words, "I'll take my time falling in love with you"...
Far from being annoyed at getting kicked out, he smiled in pure delight.
He stepped forward and pressed his forehead gently against the cold door, as if he could still feel the warmth of the person on the other side.
He'll slowly fall in love with me...
Xie Xuandu turned those words over and over in his mind, a gleam of determination shining in his eyes.
So, the An Yi right now didn't love him.
But liking him was enough.
He could wait.
He had all the time in the world to wait for the day An Yi truly fell in love with him.
Until they... loved each other back.
Moonlight slanted through the hallway window, stretching the shadow of him leaning against the door into a long, lonely line.
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And so they waited quietly in the Heavenly Capital for the "All-Cultivator Prayer Assembly" to begin—an event that would draw the eyes of the entire world.
During this time, the comment section by An Yi's ear never went quiet, with updates about Gan Feng's recent situation drifting by from time to time.
Nothing more than how he cleanly dealt with the demonic cultivators and evil spirits who came upon hearing the news, seeking to make a name for themselves or cause trouble in the capital, and how he steadily rose through the ranks in the Demon Suppression Bureau through solid achievements.
It was also vaguely mentioned that, due to his reliable performance, he had been entrusted by his superiors with the responsibility of assisting in maintaining order in certain areas during the assembly.
An Yi merely listened and let it pass. The growth trajectory of a protagonist was always accompanied by various opportunities and challenges.
Days slipped by quietly amid the undercurrents of the capital.
During the intense preparations for the assembly, a rather sensational event—one that could be called a bizarre tale—stirred up waves in the capital.
The rumor began with the Emperor receiving several eminent monks who had volunteered to enter the palace to serve at the prayer assembly.
Among them was one monk of fiery and forthright temperament, sharp in speech. Perhaps adhering to the principle that monks do not lie, he spoke bluntly before the Emperor, harshly criticizing some of the Emperor's recent policies that wasted resources and burdened the people.
How could the dragon's countenance be so easily offended?
In a fit of rage, the Emperor immediately ordered this insolent man to be dragged out of the imperial city and executed on the spot in the square outside the palace gates, as a warning to others.
On the day of the execution, the square was packed with a surging crowd.
An Yi and Xie Xuandu happened to be passing nearby and were drawn in by the bustling spectacle of people craning their necks to watch.
Xie Xuandu had always been interested in such matters. Seeing that the teahouse had an excellent vantage point, he pulled An Yi along and leisurely ascended to a private room on the second floor facing the street, leaning on the railing to look down with a wide, unobstructed view.
Who would have thought that what met their eyes was the bloody scene of a beheading?
The monk, with his arms bound behind his back, stood in the center of the square, his expression showing little fear, instead carrying a calm that bordered on compassion.
The burly executioner tried to force him to kneel but failed. Frustrated, he raised his blade, and with a flash of cold light, the shaved, gleaming head separated from the body, tumbling to the ground and splattering a burst of glaring blood.
The watching crowd erupted in terrified screams and uproar.
However, in the next moment, as the stench of blood spread, something happened that made everyone's scalps tingle and their screams catch in their throats!
The headless monk's body did not fall to the ground as logic would dictate!
Instead, the headless torso, swaying unsteadily, began to walk on its own, steady and sure!
What was even more chilling was that there was no expected gush of blood from the bowl-sized severed neck; the bleeding had already stopped.
Then, before countless pairs of eyes stretched wide in horror, the headless corpse walked step by step to the side of the head that had rolled to the ground, its eyes wide open, as if it still held a faint spark of life.
He bent down, reached down with both hands, and picked up his own head.
Then, he placed it squarely back onto the severed neck!
Even more bizarrely, the monk's tightly shut lips, at the instant the head returned to its place, began to slightly move, emitting a low and indistinct sound of chanting.
The sound droned and hummed, the specific scripture unclear, yet it strangely carried a heart-stopping, serene peace that transcended life and death.
He pressed his palms together, facing the direction of the majestic imperial palace, and gave a slight bow, offering a salute.
After the salute, he took steps, his hands still maintaining the gesture of prayer, carrying his own head—which seemed only temporarily placed back, with a thin line of blood visible at the seam, as if it might topple off again at any moment—with a steady gait like an ordinary wandering monk, walking step by step toward the city gate.