Chapter 11: Corpse

Chapter 11:
Corpse

 

A VIOLENT SURGE of spiritual light and killing intent burst from Cheng Luan. Shen Qingqiu’s guard was up as he glanced back and forth between the two, then suddenly, he looked in the direction in which Liu Qingge’s sword was pointed. From his brain there came the sound of the last surviving shred of his worldview finally shattering.

Luo Binghe’s right hand was on Xin Mo, which never left his side, the snow-white blade already almost halfway out of its sheath, yet his left arm was, in fact, holding a person.

Though Shen Qingqiu called it a person, it was more correct to say a body. It was completely lifeless, its head lolling and limbs slack, yet also completely pliable. It too wore a set of flimsy inner robes, the neckline having slipped past its shoulder, exposing half of a paper-white back.

“What have you done?” said Liu Qingge.

Liu Qingge would never forget the scene he had witnessed just seconds before. After Cheng Luan had torn open an entrance, he had found a room completely empty other than the overlapping silhouettes among the curtains. Liu Qingge knew that Luo Binghe definitely had to be in the pavilion, but he never could have imagined that he wasn’t the only one within.

Luo Binghe raised his eyebrows, tugging the limp body in his left arm further into his embrace. “You tell me: What have I done?”

Shen Qingqiu was thoroughly speechless. Two people, or you should say, one alive person and one dead person, rolling off something similar to a bed together, in clothes that barely covered anything—it didn’t look like something family friendly whatever way you spun it!

Without a single word from Liu Qingge, Cheng Luan shot forward. Xin Mo had yet to be drawn all the way, so using only the sheath, Luo Binghe blocked Cheng Luan’s point. The energy from Cheng Luan’s sword glares was overwhelming. Shifting sideways slightly, Luo Binghe blocked the bitingly cold energy attacks, keeping the body in his arms safe behind him as his expression grew angry.

Liu Qingge too had realized that if he deployed Cheng Luan within such a cramped chamber, a bit of carelessness might lead to his razor-sharp sword energy damaging that body. He instantly returned his sword to its sheath and began pitting his spiritual energy against Luo Binghe’s.

As they tumbled around, locked in combat, the loose clothes on that body slipped completely down to its waist, and Luo Binghe’s palm pressed flush against that fair skin.

“Beast! No matter what, he’s still your shizun!” Liu Qingge said with bloodshot eyes.

“You think I’d do this with an outsider?” Luo Binghe asked calmly.

The Huan Hua Palace disciples who’d formed several circles around them were all dumbstruck. Luo Binghe paid them no attention, his entire focus on dealing with Liu Qingge. Spiritual energy roiled like boiling water in the air around them, shooting in all directions. As they clashed, their expressions worsened, each more frightening than the last. No one dared to step inside Huan Hua Pavilion for fear of being caught in the crossfire.

Shen Qingqiu, however, wasn’t afraid of the crossfire. He was simply, merely unable to look at it straight on.

Too hardcore… Way too fucking hardcore!

Even if his imagination had been as vast as the moon was covered with craters, he had still never imagined that one day he would become a character in this kind of hardcore kink play. The thing Luo Binghe was holding in his arms—that…was indeed dead, right? He absolutely wasn’t mistaken, because that was his corpse, okay?!

This had already surpassed the level of fridge horror. Even before he thought about it carefully, it was already beyond horrifying!

Even though he couldn’t force himself to look directly, he hadn’t forgotten his reason for coming back.

Shen Qingqiu flashed behind Liu Qingge. The latter went on guard, believing this to be an ambush, and let out a dark laugh, preparing to send his assailant flying with spiritual qi. However, instead, a hand pressed against Liu Qingge’s back, and a stream of steady, gentle, yet powerful spiritual energy flooded into his meridians.

Once Liu Qingge received this aid, he could somewhat push back Luo Binghe. Liu Qingge dared not be careless, but he turned his head slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could only make out the muddled visage of the person behind him, as if there was something covering their face.

“Who’s there?” Liu Qingge asked quietly.

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer and instead sent more force through his hand. The two peerlessly powerful streams of spiritual energy merged into one.

Though Luo Binghe could block it perfectly, this blast of offensive spiritual energy would travel down his body and into the corpse in his arms. He could dissipate the energy, but the dead could not; if he didn’t let go, the shock would probably cause the body’s facial apertures to rupture. Luo Binghe was unwilling to harm the corpse, so he could only release it. The body was shortly tossed away by the boiling spiritual field, flying outward.

Even after letting go, Luo Binghe’s gaze remained firmly fixed on that body, his expression both helpless and reluctant. Shen Qingqiu suddenly found that expression of his unbearable. Using this method to force him to let go…somehow felt a bit like bullying?

Several disciples lacked sense and moved to take action.

“Don’t touch him!” Luo Binghe yelled. Even from a distance, a wave of his sleeve filled that direction with screams.

Shen Qingqiu withdrew the spiritual energy he’d been applying to Liu Qingge’s back. With a tap of his foot, he launched himself forward, catching the body within his arms.

The sensation of holding your own corpse definitely wasn’t just an ordinary level of incredible. Shen Qingqiu gave it a couple of cursory glances: his old body’s complexion was actually still decidedly rosy, its four limbs pliant. Other than the tightly closed eyes and lack of breath, it was no different from a living person in a deep sleep.

After self-detonation, one’s spiritual energy was entirely dispersed; no cultivation remained within to prevent the corpse’s decay. On top of that, more than five years had passed since his death, so just preserving the body with ice wouldn’t have yielded this level of success. The body didn’t smell of herbs, so it probably hadn’t been treated with chemicals either. It was unclear what method Luo Binghe had used.

Shen Qingqiu dodged a spiritual blast strong enough to split stone and looked up. Luo Binghe was currently staring dead at him, his expression ferocious. Only now did Shen Qingqiu realize that this body’s clothes had already slipped all the way down its torso, and that he was holding its naked flesh. Given how he had been touching and gazing at it, no matter how you looked, it was a…both incredibly disturbing and rather provocative sight.

He hurriedly pulled up the corpse’s clothes, then sent this hot potato toward Liu Qingge. “Catch!”

Luo Binghe wanted to seize it, but he was intercepted by Shen Qingqiu. Originally, Shen Qingqiu had been worried that Luo Binghe would activate the heavenly demon blood mites, but whether murderous intent had gone to his head or his panic had sent him into a tizzy, he surprisingly didn’t think to activate that trump card.

Liu Qingge caught the body with one arm and called forth Cheng Luan with his free hand, easily beating back the circle of attacking Huan Hua Palace disciples.

Due to being tossed back and forth between them, the corpse’s top had finally ripped completely. When Liu Qingge caught it, he felt an expanse of smooth skin beneath his palm, both fine and cool, and the area where his hand touched seemed to skitter with a slight electric current. Liu Qingge’s entire body froze. Finding no appropriate place he could hold the body, he almost sent it back once more.

Luckily, he managed to resist this impulse in the end and took off his outer robe, the white cloth spreading like wings, and bundled up the body in his arms. Cheng Luan flew back and steadily hovered before his feet.

Luo Binghe’s eyes had turned fully scarlet. The entire Huan Hua Pavilion was like a tightly sealed box, and inside the box a bomb had been placed. When the bomb exploded, the walls collapsed with a loud rumble.

Falling alongside the flying sand and hurtling stones—aside from people, people, and more people—were two objects that hit the ground with a metallic clang. When Shen Qingqiu focused and looked, he saw they were actually two swords:

Zheng Yang, Xiu Ya.

These two swords had originally shared the same fate and broken into numerous sections of blade shards. It was unclear how they had been repaired, but they had been tied together and placed in Huan Hua Pavilion. Only with the pavilion’s collapse did they once again see the sun and sky.

Seeing these two swords once more left an indescribable feeling in Shen Qingqiu’s heart. He looked toward Luo Binghe, whose clothes had been disheveled from the start. After that wave of explosions, his clear-cut collarbones and chest lay entirely exposed. Near where his heart lay, there snaked a hideous-looking sword wound.

Luo Binghe’s ability to regenerate was surpassingly powerful. Even if his limbs were chopped off, he could flawlessly reattach them. If you went a bit more hardcore, he could even grow new ones without problem. Unless he purposefully chose not to heal an injury, there were no wounds he couldn’t mend and none that could leave a scar.

“Liu Qingge,” Luo Binghe shouted, “for Shizun’s sake, I’ve let you live over and over again. But since you want to die so badly, you can’t blame me!”

The force of his subsequent eruption of spiritual energy and murderous intent almost made Shen Qingqiu’s internal organs shift inside him. He knew Luo Binghe was furious, and he hurried to yell at Liu Qingge, “Still haven’t left?!”

It felt like ever since he’d come to this world, he’d kept playing the role of the selfless rearguard who sacrificed himself for others! Liu Qingge gave him a glance, then was as decisive as expected—he left without delay, tucking the body beneath his arm and jumping onto his sword, then flying off at lightning speed.

Luo Binghe wanted to take action, but abruptly, a violent tremor shook his heart, and Xin Mo’s sudden recoil forced him still for a beat. Due to this one missed beat, he could only watch helplessly as Liu Qingge flew off with Shen Qingqiu’s corpse under his arm.

He remained in place in a daze, a blankness flickering over his face for an instant; he’d forgotten to even return fire. He had the appearance of a child who’d had his entire world, his most beloved thing, snatched away from him, whose sky was about to collapse and fall.

Shen Qingqiu had originally planned to take advantage of the chaos to slip away, but when he saw this, for some reason his feet remained stuck in place, and that unbearable flash from before grew ever stronger.

But even if he found the sight unbearable, it couldn’t be helped. If he’d continued to let Luo Binghe embrace that corpse, who knew what gravely sinful and terrifying developments could have transpired?!

The real problem was that his heart had softened at such an inopportune time. He hadn’t managed to slip away. Luo Binghe’s head turned sharply in his direction, and those two severe red eyes locked on him.

Within its sheath, Xin Mo began to tremble with both joy and malice. Luo Binghe’s expression clearly told Shen Qingqiu that he would absolutely, positively hack him into a thousand pieces. Shen Qingqiu looked at his eyes that were both furious and devastated and backed up two steps. Then all of a sudden, as if his mind had been bewitched, he wanted to tell Luo Binghe something true.

He wanted to say: “Don’t be so sad, Shizun isn’t dead.”

Just as he moved his lips, a black shadow sprang out from the group of Huan Hua Palace disciples.

That silhouette was unbelievably fast and nimble. It snatched Shen Qingqiu up like a whirlwind and left just like that. Luo Binghe’s eyesight and reflexes were exceptional, yet the spiritual blast he fired managed to miss.

He stood in place, emotionlessly looking at the ruins that remained of Huan Hua Pavilion and at the troops strewn everywhere. The entire time, the Huan Hua Palace disciples had been unable to interfere, but they too knew that Luo Binghe’s mental state was unstable after this series of losses. He would definitely explode in a rage. They hurried to kneel en masse.

It also happened that Sha Hualing had finally made it to the pavilion. She rushed to the front, but Luo Binghe sent her flying the moment she arrived, and she coughed up three liters of blood.

She’d long known that Luo Binghe was temperamental, but not knowing what had enraged him this time, she said in terror, “My lord, calm down. My lord, calm down!”

“The person you brought back is really quite something,” said Luo Binghe.

This “really quite something” was so fearsome that it would have been less scary if Luo Binghe had told her to commit suicide on the spot. Sha Hualing’s soul almost left her body.

“This subordinate has something to report!” she said hastily. “The moment the break-in occurred, this subordinate detected the problem and went to deal with it. Liu Qingge wasn’t the only intruder! The peak lord of Bai Zhan Peak had scouted the palace’s interior by cover of night, but he was unable to break the maze array. However, someone had broken the maze array beforehand, and using that, Liu Qingge also successfully infiltrated.”

Luo Binghe gazed in the direction in which Liu Qingge had disappeared on his sword and slowly clenched his fist, the bones of his knuckles cracking.

Sha Hualing figured that Luo Binghe genuinely didn’t care who the other intruder was; he was only concerned with Shen Qingqiu’s body, which had been snatched away, so she hastily changed her tune. “Liu Qingge can’t get far carrying that…that…by himself! This subordinate will take some forces and give chase!”

“No need,” said Luo Binghe.

Sha Hualing shivered, her heart chilly, a vague premonition welling up within.

And indeed, she heard Luo Binghe coldly say, “I’ll go myself. Call Mobei here.”

 

***

 

At this time, Shen Qingqiu finally came to understand exactly how gentle Luo Binghe had been while controlling the blood mites in his body.

If Luo Binghe really wanted to kill someone with heavenly demon blood, the pain would in no way be only on the level of period cramps. He could make you wish you were dead, make it hurt until you couldn’t stand straight, couldn’t speak, until you could only roll around on the floor, and afterward, you’d lie there like a corpse, but the head-to-toe anguish wouldn’t lessen even the slightest bit. There was no way you could last until it dulled, or until you got used to it.

Case in point: after his rampaging fury passed, Luo Binghe had finally remembered that he still had his heavenly demon blood.

The person who’d dragged Shen Qingqiu off in the midst of the confusion had probably reached someplace safe, as their pace slowed and they began to walk while supporting him. Shen Qingqiu wanted to sit, not walk, but he no longer had the strength to speak. He was dragged along half-dead for a stretch before that person finally realized something was wrong.

They lowered Shen Qingqiu to the ground. The voice they spoke with was both gentle and refreshing, the words measured. They seemed to be a young man.

“What’s wrong?” the young man asked in a concerned tone. “Were you injured just now?”

Shen Qingqiu moved his lips, but he still lacked the strength to speak a single word. At present, it was like millions of blood mites were carousing in his capillaries, biting and swelling, squirming and twisting, the sensation both disgusting and agonizing.

This was teaching Shen Qingqiu that when Luo Binghe had activated the blood mites in his body before, he’d had no malice at all, and had basically been a hundred and twenty percent tenderhearted, more or less just briefly teasing him.

Shen Qingqiu rapidly ran through the various achievements and honors he’d earned under the System’s coercion, and he honestly found it hilarious beyond belief. Exactly where had he gone wrong? How had his actions resulted in Luo Binghe’s feelings of that for him?!

Shen Qingqiu searched himself and concluded that he’d been a staunch straight man from birth, and that all of heaven and earth could testify to this. There should’ve been no need to doubt Luo Binghe’s orientation either. So exactly whose fault was this?

No need to wonder. If a character was derailed, it was of course the author’s fault. Everything could be blamed on Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky!

Two dry laughs had just left Shen Qingqiu when there was another burst of excruciating pain, and he really did roll around on the ground a couple of times. It seemed that doing this could alleviate the agony a little.

He’d hardly rolled anywhere when he was held in place by the person who’d taken him. The young man touched Shen Qingqiu’s forehead along with his cheeks. His beard had mostly fallen off, leaving it sparse and patchy, and cold sweat was everywhere. That touch trailed downward until it was at Shen Qingqiu’s chest and abdomen.

For some reason, the places he touched felt a bit better. Shen Qingqiu sucked in a breath, and he couldn’t help but say, “Eh, my friend, where…are you touching?”

Even a few hours ago, he genuinely wouldn’t have cared where others (especially those of the same sex) touched him. They could touch wherever they liked, please go ahead. But ever since Luo Binghe had opened a series of gates to a new world for him, Shen Qingqiu’s worldview, which had been set for the past twenty-plus years, had suffered a heavy blow. From now on, he needed to look at this world with a new gaze and more sensitive attitude.

Especially on the issue of befriending those of the same sex!

That person made an “ah” sound, then quickly let go and apologized. “Sorry. I…didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, no!” said Shen Qingqiu. “You can touch! Please continue! Thank you!”

It wasn’t an illusion. When this person let go, Shen Qingqiu immediately began to hurt. It seemed like this guy…really could pacify the heavenly demon blood.

Shen Qingqiu turned his head. He couldn’t see the young man’s face clearly beneath the moonlight, but those features were more or less bright and refined, the eyes incredibly pellucid. They reflected Shen Qingqiu’s silhouette and the crisp moonlight like dew water, the images overlapping within them.

Shen Qingqiu looked at those eyes and faintly recalled something, but before he could give it careful thought, something exploded within his brain, the pain so great that he groaned. Shoving his head downward, he curled his fingers into a fist and furiously bashed the ground.

Suddenly, Shen Qingqiu felt someone lift him by the back collar, his lower jaw throbbing as his mouth was forced open and a liquid poured in. His tongue was numb, and from the reaction of the acid in his stomach, though he couldn’t tell what taste this liquid had, it probably wasn’t anything delicious. Choking, he wanted to spit it out, but the young man covered his mouth. Though his movements were forceful, his tone was incredibly tender. “Swallow,” he coaxed.

Shen Qingqiu’s throat bobbed violently, and in a moment of haste, he ended up swallowing the liquid anyway. Rivulets of the unknown liquid trickled from the corner of his mouth. He lowered his head while coughing harshly, and the young man patted his back from the side, helping him breathe.

The shocking thing was that after this liquid entered his mouth and stomach, the pain from the blood mite bites, which had tormented him the entire trip, swiftly vanished.

Shen Qingqiu’s body felt better, but the ground dropped out beneath his heart instead. He seized a fistful of the clothing at the young man’s chest. “What did you make me drink?”

The young man pried open Shen Qingqiu’s fingers one by one, bringing them away from his chest, and smiled. “Does it still hurt?”

It didn’t hurt. It really didn’t hurt. But the fact that it didn’t hurt was what made it scary. He’d never imagined that something like heavenly demon blood could have an antidote!

As the sense of taste gradually returned to his tongue, Shen Qingqiu felt that the stench of blood within his mouth was also growing stronger—strong to the point that he felt nauseated.

The original work had said very distinctly that all medicines were ineffective against heavenly demon blood.

Only heavenly demon blood could keep heavenly demon blood in check.

Fuck.

Not only had he drunk it twice, he’d drunk heavenly demon blood from two different owners.

Shen Qingqiu really could fucking live up to the eight words: “Unprecedented and unparalleled, with none before or after.”

After thinking this, Shen Qingqiu let out a cheerful whoop, then fell over face-first.

 

***

 

The sound of ripping flesh.

What’s more, it was accompanied by hoarse, wretched screams.

Shen Qingqiu pressed on his temples, and the scene before his eyes slowly clarified and focused.

A sea of blood. A mountain of corpses.

Luo Binghe stood wooden in the midst of this purgatory of a scene. He wore black, so the blood couldn’t mark his clothes, but half his face was splashed with specks of crimson, and he raised and lowered his sword callously and mechanically.

To start, when Shen Qingqiu first laid eyes on Luo Binghe, an image automatically surfaced in his mind: that of Luo Binghe holding Shen Qingqiu’s corpse as he rolled off the bed in a heap. So it was hard to look at him directly.

But soon he realized that Luo Binghe was massacring his own dream realm constructions. What difference was there between this and stirring his own brains with a knife?

He’s not an idiot who doesn’t know better. Only a madman would do something like this!

Though Shen Qingqiu often loved to say that Luo Binghe was a masochist who liked to torture himself, there was no way he could squeeze out a couple of dry laughs over this level of self-torture, or even take the time to ridicule it.

Luo Binghe lifted his eyes to Shen Qingqiu, his gaze hazy, like his mind was unclear. But as soon as those eyes reflected Shen Qingqiu’s silhouette, they instantly brightened, and he promptly tossed aside the longsword in his hand. He threw it far, far away and then hid his bloodstained hands behind him, calling in a quiet voice, “Shizun.”

Then he remembered that his face was stained too, and as if to remedy this, he wiped at the blood washed over half his face with his sleeves. But the more he wiped, the dirtier it became, and like a child who’d been caught stealing red-handed, he grew increasingly distressed.

A stranger the first time, familiar the second. Shen Qingqiu had experience pretending to be a product of artificial intelligence, and he could still project an unperturbed image. He involuntarily softened his voice when he spoke. “What are you doing?”

“Shizun, I…I let you be taken from me again,” Luo Binghe said quietly. “This disciple is useless and couldn’t even hold on to your body.”

This answer made Shen Qingqiu’s expression and emotions became equally complicated.

So this cruel murder of his own dream realm constructions just now should be considered…self-discipline?

Given how deft Luo Binghe’s actions had been, Shen Qingqiu feared this wasn’t the first time Luo Binghe had done this. No wonder Luo Binghe had been unable to distinguish the difference between a product of the dream realm and an intruder from the outside the last time they met.

Shen Qingqiu sighed and deliberated for a while before gently comforting him. “What’s lost is lost. I don’t blame you.”

Luo Binghe stared at him vacantly. “But that’s all I have left now.”

Shen Qingqiu suddenly didn’t dare look him in the eye. Could Luo Binghe really have spent those five years clinging to a corpse—to an empty shell Shen Qingqiu hadn’t wanted anymore?

Luo Binghe’s voice abruptly chilled. “After Hua Yue City, I swore that in this life, I’d never let Shizun be taken from me again, but I still let someone else snatch you away.”

The bitterness, along with the dark red color within his eyes, was both turbulent and deep-set. The longsword he’d tossed aside soared into the air on his command and pierced through the chests of several “people” who were on the ground in their death throes. Waves of wretched screaming filled his ears.

Shen Qingqiu hastily restrained him. “Don’t be reckless,” he reprimanded. “Even if you’re dreaming, this is no different from self-harm. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!”

Of course Luo Binghe wouldn’t have forgotten. He stared straight at Shen Qingqiu, flipping his hand over and pressing it over the back of his old master’s. Only after a long while did he say, “I know that I’m dreaming. Only in a dream would Shizun still scold me like this.”

Upon hearing this line, Shen Qingqiu snapped back to his senses.

He couldn’t. This was wrong. He couldn’t do this to Luo Binghe.

If you didn’t have that kind of intention toward someone, you shouldn’t give them hope. The larger the hope, the larger the disappointment. His confused state of mind would only continue, and it would increase the chance that he would lose all reason.

Even if this was a dream, he still couldn’t drag his feet and pussy around like this. He had to be decisive. If he continued to indulge such ill-defined involvement, it would become an evil deed.

Shen Qingqiu firmly yanked his hand back and corrected his expression, adopting that which he was best at: an unapproachable countenance, austere and aloof. Then he turned right around and left.

Upon being shaken off, Luo Binghe was stunned for a moment, then dashed after him. “Shizun, I know I was wrong.”

“If you know you’re wrong, don’t follow,” Shen Qingqiu said coldly.

“I’ve regretted it for a long while, but I was never able to tell you,” Luo Binghe said anxiously. “Are you still angry that I drove you to self-detonate your spiritual energy? I’ve already fully repaired the meridians in Shizun’s body. I’m not lying either! As long as I can enter the Holy Mausoleum, I’ll definitely find a way to awaken you again.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer, hesitating over whether he should drop some harsh words to make Luo Binghe give up on this idea. But then Luo Binghe suddenly threw himself forward and embraced him from behind. He hugged Shen Qingqiu firmly, not budging an inch even if Shen Qingqiu were to thrash and flail like a madman.

Shen Qingqiu’s entire body stiffened within the hug as if he had brushed up against some hairy thing, and the fine hairs on his body stood straight up. He gathered energy into his hand but still didn’t truly attack, instead spitting two words between gritted teeth. “Beat it!”

It’s supposed to be a guarantee that after blackening, Luo Binghe no longer goes down the route of misery! Take your hands off!

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to his demand. “Or is Shizun angry about what happened in Jin Lan City?”

“Correct,” said Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe still refused to let go. “When I first returned from the Endless Abyss, I learned that Shizun had told everyone else that I was killed by demons,” he mumbled. “At first I thought it was because Shizun was kindhearted, that you still had some lingering sentiments and were unwilling to ruin my name. But after we met, I saw Shizun’s attitude and became scared that I’d been too optimistic. I thought that Shizun hadn’t concealed the truth for me but because he felt that having brought up a demon would ruin his reputation.”

He cut a pitiful figure while speaking, the sentences tumbling out one after another, as if he was terrified that Shen Qingqiu would brusquely interrupt and not let him continue. “I really wasn’t the one who arranged for the sowers. At that time, I was so angry, I couldn’t think. That’s the only reason I let them shut Shizun in the Water Prison… I’ve known I was wrong for a long time now.”

There would probably never be a time where the Luo Binghe in reality could ramble nonstop, without caring for his image. In all likelihood, he would only dare prattle on like this within the dreams he created for himself. To push him away during this moment would be like giving a young maiden—one who’d finally worked up the courage to call and brokenheartedly weep to an older sister for comfort and encouragement—a face-turning slap. It was really a bit cruel.

Shen Qingqiu was filled with both deep compassion as well as a feeling that this was extremely absurd. What could be more absurd than discovering that the person from whom you’d exhaustively plotted to flee, and had indeed fled from for so many years, hadn’t actually wanted to kill you at all, but wanted to do you instead? Though whether the desire was to kill or to fuck, the result was the same: Shen Qingqiu would still run away with all his might.

One party wanted to meet but couldn’t, and so had clung to a corpse for five years. The other party avoided the first like the plague but still felt like he ran into him a great deal.

Shen Qingqiu’s hands were stiff as he raised and lowered them, clenched them and relaxed. In the end, he let out a sigh anyway and patted that head above his.

Fuck, I’ve really lost! he thought.

Right now, forget about the harem: a perfectly fine, dark, and vicious stallion novel male lead was very possibly still a virgin. Luo Binghe had already put himself in such a state, so it would have been rather inhumane of Shen Qingqiu to shove another knife in. In the end, Shen Qingqiu lost to the deeply tragic act Luo Binghe had sold him, as well as to his own sense of sympathy.

Luo Binghe instantly clutched that hand of his. Shen Qingqiu felt that the skin on Luo Binghe’s palm, which was pressing into the back of his hand, was uneven. When he looked closer, he realized it was a sword scar.

At first, Shen Qingqiu didn’t understand why there were so many scars on Luo Binghe’s body, but then he suddenly remembered. During their night encounter in Jin Lan City, for a stretch, Luo Binghe had played cat and mouse with him. When Shen Qingqiu was caught, he had stabbed at Luo Binghe, and Luo Binghe had caught Xiu Ya’s blade point squarely in his hand.

As for the wound on his chest and close to his heart, Shen Qingqiu had even less of an excuse for forgetting that. It was from the Immortal Alliance Conference. While forcing Luo Binghe to fall, Shen Qingqiu had accidentally stabbed him.

It seemed like every time he’d tried to stab Luo Binghe, the latter had never avoided the strike and had instead always received it head-on, neither dodging nor evading, letting him hack away. Because of this, Shen Qingqiu had stabbed him twice, despite not wishing to either time. Furthermore, after being pierced by his blade, Luo Binghe hadn’t healed either wound and instead had purposefully preserved them.

Only a short while ago, Shen Qingqiu could have matter-of-factly believed that Luo Binghe was nursing a grudge and keeping the scars to remind himself of his hatred at any time. But now Shen Qingqiu could no longer deceive himself about the exact meaning of these actions.

He’d finished reading the hugely long original novel and raised this child to adulthood, but he’d never realized that Luo Binghe was actually a purehearted young man. And as the deeply emotional stallion had turned gay, the “stallion” part had actually been summarily dropped. This Luo Binghe, who’d been bent to heavens knew where by his rearing, possessed a heart both masochistic and easy to harm, more delicate than a young maiden’s.

Or maybe it wasn’t that Shen Qingqiu had never realized it but that he’d never thought to understand. When all was said and done, he had still regarded Luo Binghe as a character in a novel and adopted an attitude that he was something to constantly observe and occasionally mess around with. Most of the time, he’d kept himself at a respectful distance. And Luo Binghe, who’d had the strongest presence in the original work, had ended up suffering most of Shen Qingqiu’s assumptions about tropes and story formulas.

Faced with this true Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu felt it was all extraordinarily troublesome, and he truly was at a loss for what to do.

He was still racking his brain for solutions, so from his angle, he couldn’t see the hint of a twisted smile lifting the corner of Luo Binghe’s mouth.