His Dragon Princess was cold as ice and snow when aloof, but at this moment in his embrace, her skin burned hot.

Fucang opened his mouth and gently bit down on her slender neck. The memories of mortal reincarnation resurfaced—he had wanted to do this for so long, to watch her bloom in his palm. Only he could make her blossom, and yet that delicate beauty made him unable to help harboring a trace of rare malice. He wanted to bite her, to let his fingers sink into her shoulders, to make her feel the malevolent thoughts he had nowhere to place.

His ultimate love for her always mixed with a faint thread of resentment. He indulged and doted on her without limit, yet constantly wanted to bully her until she had nowhere to escape.

Cunning yet innocent, cold yet fragile, selfish yet pure—he knew all her vices and virtues like the back of his hand. For this he had deeply rejected her, yet couldn’t control being drawn to her. They were completely different. The colors she brought were bizarre and brilliantly dazzling. From the Nine Darkness Yellow Springs to the Thirty-Three Heavens, he couldn’t help but fall into her palm again and again.

After settling their karmic bond and returning to the upper realm, his father, who never interfered in his private affairs, showed clearly opposed attitudes for the first time. He didn’t want his child to have any further entanglement with the Zhuyin Clan’s princess.

But everything was too late. From Huahuang’s Immortal Island onward, their evil fate had been tied. It was said that only after settling karmic bonds could one achieve great enlightenment. She planted the evil fate for him and settled the karmic bond for him—his great enlightenment was entirely filled with her. The pale, exquisite shell had been stuffed full of a vivid spirit and soul. He could never leave her again.

The Dragon Princess in his arms was trembling. Her hands kept resisting against his chest. Fucang seized her arms and made them wrap around himself. He wanted to make her hurt. So he bit hard on her lips—no dragon scales had grown there. His arms tightened, nearly crushing her slender bones.

A bit more pain and she wouldn’t hide anymore. She would bravely meet him head-on, just like before. Don’t be afraid anymore. He knew her fear. Since he had resolutely jumped down, whether heaven collapsed and earth shattered, seas dried up and rocks crumbled, he would be tightly entangled with her. Don’t leave him, don’t return to that Zhongshan blocked by barriers, frozen and buried in snow. He too had once thought he liked being alone. He was naturally indifferent, unmoved by most people and matters. But he never wanted to face a second lonely twenty-three thousand years—that would truly be fatal.

She began struggling with all her might again, fine gasping sounds spraying by his ear, gritting her teeth and striving to endure. Fucang finally slowly released her. She immediately turned over and curled into a ball. The large expanse of neck exposed by her loosened collar, even a small patch of the hollow of her shoulder, was all red.

He slowly arranged her clothing properly, smoothing her disheveled long hair strand by strand, gathering it behind her back. He lowered his head, his forehead pressing against the top of her head, his enchanting low voice still carrying a trace of passionate hoarseness. “…I won’t apologize.”

Xuan Yi’s head nearly fell. Her body had already sensed the mellow sweetness of that lake of poisoned wine. Her hair was about to break—she was about to fall into it, about to fall at any moment.

Even the severe pain in her right hand seemed to have diminished considerably.

Yet her voice still trembled. “…Where are your Huaxu Clan’s principles of propriety and etiquette?”

Fucang couldn’t help but laugh softly a few times, his lips pressed against her cool long hair. “I’ve already forgotten them.”

Xuan Yi suddenly moved, raising her head. The hazy flush was slowly fading from her jade-porcelain face. She looked at him for a while, as if making one last desperate attempt at self-defense, speaking without choosing her words. “…You’re always so discourteous to me—is it because of regret? That you never managed to dual cultivate yin and yang with me?”

Fucang’s dark eyes gazed at her for a long time. His eyebrows rose slightly as he said calmly, “Then help me settle this regret?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Gripping her just-closed collar, with just a light pull, most of her bare shoulder was exposed before his eyes. His slender fingers unhesitatingly inserted into her clothing, seizing her soft, icy cold arm. Following along her elbow and pulling downward, her garment nearly fell onto the bed.

This truly was heaven collapsing and earth shattering. Xuan Yi nearly went mad. She tugged at her clothes while pushing him with all her might, constantly retreating backward, practically rolling wildly all over the bed. Fucang simply dragged her over with one pull. She immediately covered her face with her sleeve and wouldn’t let go even unto death.

After a moment, she felt him pull up the blanket and cover her with it, then there was no more sound.

Xuan Yi buried her face in the pillow, holding her breath. After a very long time, there was still no sound at all.

She extremely slowly opened a crack in the blanket and suddenly met a pair of focused, pitch-black eyes—he was sitting right beside her. She gasped sharply, then suddenly felt Fucang’s hand rest on the blanket as he said in a low voice, “Do you really want to push me away again?”

She was silent for a long while. The severe pain in her right hand seemed to all come back in an instant, pulling until even her eyes stung unbearably.

She slowly pushed at his hand resting on the blanket. With just one touch, his hand rapidly withdrew.

She pushed him away, yet contradictorily used her fingers to hook onto his sleeve.

Fucang placed his arm before her at an appropriate distance.

Not too close, but don’t leave either. Slowly—too close or too far both meant mutual harm.

His sleeve was right before her eyes. The cloud patterns embroidered with dark silver thread felt especially comfortable to pick at. First she loosened them with her fingers, then used her nails to pull them out one by one. She really loved doing this. She hadn’t touched these cloud patterns for twenty-three thousand years.

Xuan Yi pressed her face against it and closed her eyes. Two tears like ice crystals rolled out from her eyelashes and fell on his sleeve.

Fucang slowly wiped her wet eyelashes with his fingertips. He had never seen her cry before. Silly child.

The brilliant autumn sun gradually passed through the moon window and fell on the layered gauze curtains. Dragon Princess’s eyelashes dried, trembling lightly at his fingertips, scratching against his skin with an itchy, numb sensation. She slowly opened her eyes. Their gazes met—at the very end when she settled his karmic bond in the lower realm, these were the eyes looking at her.

Xuan Yi gripped his fingers, her voice still carrying a nasal tone. “What does settling a karmic bond feel like?”

Fucang hooked back her middle finger, playing with the bright-as-fire nail polish. “Putting down a burden that’s weighed on your heart for a long time.”

She said softly, “Was your burden me?”

He shook his head.

Xuan Yi didn’t press further. After playing with his fingers for a while, she returned to her old habit of picking at the cloud patterns. Having not picked at them for many years, she was a bit rusty. After working at it for a while, the silver threads still wouldn’t loosen. She suddenly called to him in a low voice, “Senior Brother Fucang, how is your injury now?”

Senior Brother Fucang. This form of address actually made his heart tremble.

He wasn’t as composed as he appeared on the surface. Her constant evasion from beginning to end still made him feel somewhat irritated. That day when she tried to flee back to Zhongshan, although she came back because of Gu Ting’s matter, it was like a needle suspended over his heart.

Her evasion could only be countered by his step-by-step advance.

But fortunately, he hadn’t been rash.

Fucang gently yet firmly scooped her out from under the blanket and held her disheveled form in his embrace. At first she struggled slightly twice, but then quietly and meekly nestled against his chest, her face buried in the cloud patterns at his collar.

The brilliant autumn sun had fallen on Chun Jun at his waist. The gemstone on the sword hilt emitted a dazzling radiance. Xuan Yi reached out to touch it. The silk robe slid down from her shoulder to rest at her elbow—her clothing had been pulled down earlier and hadn’t been properly arranged yet.

Just as she was about to pull her garment back up, a slender hand was already slowly pulling up the fallen silk robe for her, reconnecting the broken clothing ties one by one. Her forehead grew heavy as his forehead pressed down. “Don’t say those things again next time.”

“You mean about dual cultivating yin and yang being a regret?”

Fucang let out a breath and pulled her off the bed. “Say one more word and you won’t be allowed to eat today.”