Dark as ink, unfathomable in their depths. At first glance, they seemed full of mischief and amusement, but if one focused on them—if one truly looked—their depths were filled with an overwhelming loneliness.
It was as if something had been lost for centuries—millennia—and had finally been found again.
Standing there, Hong Ning felt herself utterly captivated.
Those eyes—wild yet sorrowful, arrogant yet hollow—sent a tight pang through her chest.
They were eyes she had seen before.
Duan Fei studied her with great interest for a long moment before raising his cup.
“If a beauty wishes to admire me, she may as well come closer.”
When he spoke, Hong Ning almost thought he was about to call her “Little Red Camellia.”
But the words that actually came out were far from what she had expected.
Startled back to reality, she couldn't help but laugh.
What a coincidence—she had nearly mistaken reality for a dream, almost mixing them up.
But the man before her was real, solidly present in this world—not a figment of some lingering illusion.
She stepped forward, offering a respectful bow. “Many thanks to Young Master Duan for saving my life.”
Duan Fei glanced at her, his eyes brimming with amusement.
“No wonder there are fewer beauties in the world—they’ve all become Daoist nuns.”
A stunning woman leaned against his shoulder, while another knelt at the foot of the couch, massaging his legs. Both of them giggled at his remark.
Having already grasped his temperament, Hong Ning didn’t take offense at his playful impertinence. She simply smiled. “I hadn’t planned to trouble you for so long. But since you saved my life, I had to at least wait until your return to express my gratitude before leaving.”
Duan Fei had little patience for polite formalities. “And how do you intend to thank me?”
Hong Ning considered it seriously. “I possess nothing of value.”
Duan Fei laughed. “You claim to want to thank me, yet you have nothing to offer? That seems rather insincere.”
Hong Ning chuckled. “Young Master Duan is mistaken. I have nothing left but sincerity.”
“A rare thing indeed. There aren’t many sincere people left in this world. If I refuse, I’d be the one in the wrong.”
He finished his wine and casually handed the jade cup to the woman beside him. Then, smiling, he turned to his companions. “Tell me, what should she offer as thanks?”
The women were well-versed in such games. One of them fluttered her lashes, covering her mouth as she laughed. “She says she has nothing to give, so wouldn’t Young Master Duan suffer a loss if he asked for something else? Since she’s so sincere, why not have her repay you with herself?”
“That makes sense,” Duan Fei nodded approvingly before turning back to Hong Ning.
“Would you be willing to offer yourself in return?”
He was clearly teasing her, but for a moment, Hong Ning was caught off guard.
Then she laughed at herself.
“I truly have nothing left but myself. If Young Master Duan insists on repayment, then I suppose I can only offer myself.”
Her words were spoken lightly, with a touch of irony.
From anyone else, such a response might have been taken as either flippant or degrading.
But Duan Fei, instead of dismissing it as mere jest, responded with the utmost seriousness.
“Not a bad idea. A beauty like you should be adorned with flowers, singing songs, living carefree. Leave demon hunting to those old monks and priests. They say a thousand years of cultivation leads to immortality—but what’s the use of that? No immortal can compare to the joys of the mortal world.”
Hong Ning interrupted him coolly. “I only know a little magic—how could I dare dream of becoming an immortal?”
Duan Fei tapped his fingers lightly against his forehead. “Hearing you say that reminds me of something.”
Hong Ning raised an inquisitive brow.
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