"You knew what kind of man Xu Hangsheng was, didn’t you? That’s why all these years you wouldn’t let me leave the cave to find him, isn’t it?"
Su Yun’s voice rose, her realization hitting her like a thunderclap. She took a step closer to the cave’s entrance.
"Yes," Chi Lian’s voice echoed softly from within. "After I brought you back, I was curious. I investigated him and saw him with women on his arm, suffering from disease, indulging in vice. The whole world knew what kind of man Xu Hangsheng was—except for you."
"Then why didn’t you tell me?"
"Because I liked you as you were—devoted, wholehearted, unafraid of life or death. Just like the stories said. I didn’t want to ruin that for you," Chi Lian replied, his voice faltering before it broke into a chilling laugh.
"And… I thought that if I treated you well enough, you would forget him. Like the stories said, sincerity could move even the coldest of hearts."
But sincerity wasn’t enough. The stories were simplistic, unable to capture the complexities of real life.
Chi Lian, however, was a snake—a creature with no understanding of the world, locked away in this cave before he could truly live.
The stories he loved had become his creed.
He treated Su Yun well in the only way he knew how.
He wanted to keep her with him forever. And so, he took her life, using half of his spiritual energy to preserve her soul and reshape her body, making her seemingly immortal.
She recoiled from his touch, so he refrained from touching her, choosing instead to live alone in the back chamber of the cave.
When she asked to learn the Abstinence Curse, he taught her, even though he vaguely sensed her ulterior motives.
When she slipped something into his wine, he always drank it without hesitation, fully aware of her intentions.
As she wished, the potion would take effect, and since she had cursed herself with the Abstinence Curse, he would be forced to seek release elsewhere.
Those women, because they were not her, he ended without a second thought.
He was a snake, cruel and unfeeling because he didn’t understand morality. But with her, he was always genuine.
Yet, in the end, the kind of devotion that could "move mountains"—as the stories promised—never came to pass.
She became obsessed with leaving, growing more erratic by the day and slipping him potions with increasing frequency.
Eventually, he met Feng Yi. Because this woman had also sold herself to save the man she loved, she reminded him of Su Yun, if only slightly. He brought Feng Yi back to the cave and sought pleasure with her right in front of Su Yun.
He thought that if Su Yun felt even a hint of jealousy, a trace of pain, then all his years of devotion wouldn’t have been in vain.
But she felt only joy—joy that her ordeal might finally come to an end. Not a single tear or shred of attachment remained.
In the end, all he was left with was solitude. No one had ever truly cared for him, risked everything for him, or shown him the love and loyalty he had dreamed of. His deepest obsession turned out to be nothing more than a fleeting illusion.
"Tell me, did you come back because you love me? Or was it guilt? Or the loneliness of realizing the truth?"
Chi Lian’s voice had returned to a calm, unfeeling monotone.
Su Yun raised her hands, covering her face.
"Because of guilt… and because of the loneliness that came after learning the truth," she murmured honestly, not hiding anything.
From the back chamber, Chi Lian sighed—a sound that was both desolate and strangely at peace.
"You can leave." His voice carried neither anger nor joy.
Su Yun raised her head, her expression dazed. After a long moment, she stammered, "Where am I supposed to go?"
Her face was pale as she looked into the depths of the cave, her expression mirroring the helplessness she had worn the first time Chi Lian met her.
"Where else could I go? Apart from here, what place is left for me?"
There was no reply from the back of the cave.
To everyone’s surprise, the blood threads that had been surging toward the cave’s entrance began to recede, like waves retreating from the shore, leaving behind a clear path.
Su Yun stood and, with the same dazed expression, began to walk step by step into the cave.
For all the years they had spent together—whether as companions, rivals, or prisoners of circumstance—he had become her only home.
In the depths of the cave, Chi Lian’s soul lingered in confusion. Slowly, it began to waver.
If not for Xuan Ye’s arrival, tonight might have ended with her resignation. She would have returned, following the red-rusted coins, to make him her final refuge.
Would that have been a new beginning?
The answer remained unknown.
The stories had only taught him about love at first sight and undying devotion—they had never prepared him for the complexities of love entwined with resentment, or loneliness forged into companionship.
And so, he lingered, his hatred wavering between sharpness and dullness. Slowly, the blood web—woven from his spiritual power and resentment—began to unravel, retreating as Su Yun waded through it like cutting through waves.
By then, Chi Lian had spent most of his power. Even maintaining a human form was difficult, and his half-lidded eyes glowed faintly green, no longer under his control.
"Is it too late for us to start now?"
Su Yun’s voice was soft as she approached him. Gently, her lips—soft as flower petals—pressed against his eyes, covering them.
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