From the two hundredth year after Princess Yaoying married Qinghua Imperial Lord, Qing Di Palace never saw another drop of rain. Those enormous and arrogant towering trees had their leaves turn yellow and wither one after another. The divine officials could only make light of their bitter situation, saying that if this continued, Qing Di Palace would have to change its name to Yellow Emperor Palace.

The reason it no longer rained seemed to be because Qing Di, His Majesty’s mood was poor. Yet the divine officials could not discern whether his mood was good or bad, because from the day they first met him, he had always maintained that breezy and indifferent appearance, as if nothing in this world could move him.

The Lady had moved out of Qing Di Palace and lived in the courtyard halfway up the mountain. Unless receiving guests or hosting banquets, she almost never came out.

This couple truly caused the divine officials endless worry. Everyone could see they were having a conflict, yet one remained as breezy and indifferent as always, while the other remained as cheerful and talkative as always. They didn’t even know how to advise them.

In the third month of spring, the weaver maidens of the Celestial River sent over the garments Yaoying had ordered some days ago. That day, after Jiran finished handling official business and returned to the sleeping quarters, he suddenly caught sight of a corner of magnificent cherry-colored celestial garment showing from behind the gauze curtain. In that instant, even he himself was surprised by the joy that immediately enveloped him.

He strode quickly behind the curtain, only to discover with disappointment that it was merely a new garment hanging on a redwood stand.

Jiran gazed quietly at that delicate cherry color. The new garment had been tailored, but the beauty was no longer there. The jewel box on the dressing table sat empty, hairpins scattered in disarray. It had been a very long time since Yaoying had laughed crisply here.

Suddenly, he particularly wanted to see her, whether she was sitting in a daze with rouge applied and wearing magnificent garments, or wielding her long halberd with sweat pouring down like rain.

This sudden impulse was so overwhelming and irrepressible that by the time Divine Lord Jiran came to his senses, he was already standing outside the gate of the courtyard where Yaoying now lived. As soon as he pushed open the door, that graceful figure he hadn’t seen in so long was standing in the clearing, long halberd in hand, lost in thought about something.

He seemed to freeze as well, standing stiffly at the courtyard gate, unable to advance or retreat.

Yaoying turned around and suddenly discovered him. First startled, she then unexpectedly came forward and spoke in a particularly polite, almost consultative tone: “How can one make a weapon move according to one’s will?”

…After half a year apart, the first thing she said was to consult about martial dao.

Jiran froze again. He quite liked that unusual brightness in her eyes, but he quite disliked this stubborn streak of leaving when she said she would, of not liking him when she said she wouldn’t.

And so the usually elegant Qinghua Imperial Lord frowned with displeasure for the first time, saying in a low voice: “This is what you want to say when you see me?”

Yaoying shifted her gaze away: “What does Your Majesty hope I would say?”

He hoped… he hoped she would at least throw a tantrum or cry, rather than acting like nothing had happened. Hadn’t she said so passionately that she liked him? Could her liking just disappear when she said so?

Probably because he stood there without speaking, Yaoying hesitated for a long while before finally saying softly: “Your Majesty, that question I asked earlier…”

Jiran’s voice became extremely cold: “What did you call me?”

What a baffling Imperial Lord—he was the one who wanted mutual respect and courtesy, and now he was also the one who suddenly showed up acting like he was demanding an explanation. Princess Yaoying’s temper immediately flared. She frowned and said: “How I address you is my business. If you don’t want to instruct me, then please leave! Don’t disturb my cultivation!”

With that said, she turned her back and tossed the long halberd lightly. It transformed into a stream of flowing light, flying wildly in the air for a while. Suddenly, an enormous golden dragon shot up from behind and knocked the long halberd flying out of the courtyard walls with a single strike.

Princess Yaoying’s face was covered with frost. She turned her head to look at Divine Lord Jiran, whose expression was equally icy. He said flatly: “Chaotic and disorderly. How can you call this cultivation?”

She was finally thoroughly enraged. The silver-white long halberd flew back like a meteor. She casually threw it, driving it hard into the ground beside his feet: “Get out!”

The golden dragon bit the long halberd in its mouth and once again threw it outside the courtyard.

This was truly the behavior of the worst kind of child.

The graceful figure shot toward him like lightning, her palm pushing at his head without any courtesy, immediately attempting to push him out the courtyard gate. That wrist was seized in a grip like an iron hoop. When it came to close combat and entangling fights, she never feared anyone. Her other hand immediately thrust toward his eyes, trying to force him to release her.

Suddenly that wrist was also seized. Yaoying only felt him gripping both her wrists, forcefully pushing her. With completely irresistible strength, the push caused her to stumble backward repeatedly. Her knee struck the corridor, and she involuntarily sat down. The blue figure had already followed closely, his arms embracing her body, using the momentum to roll several times on the corridor, pressing down on her as heavy as a mountain.

The noble princess did not curse angrily, only proudly raised her chin, her eyes full of fury: “What is Your Majesty doing? Could it be you actually intend to force yourself on me?”

He originally had no such intention—there was just this completely inexplicable anger. But when she said this, he suddenly recalled that she had stayed in this courtyard for half a year, and he too had gone half a year without experiencing the warmth of soft jade and fragrant flesh. Usually this matter held no great temptation for him—with her it was merely fulfilling marital duty. But now he was unexpectedly aroused.

Surging desire rose like floodwater gushing from the void. Jiran locked her body tightly and said in a low voice: “We are husband and wife. What do you mean by ‘force’?”

He went to untie her waist sash. Yaoying’s voice suddenly became hoarse: “To Your Majesty, am I just an object to be used when needed?”

When he reached the age, needing a wife, she threw herself into the trap. When desire arose, needing a goddess, she again threw herself into the trap. Just because she liked him and hoped that one day he could be moved and give her the same affection, he trampled on her like this.

It was she who had persistently pursued and insisted on marrying him in the beginning—she had brought this upon herself and could blame no one else.

Princess Yaoying’s face turned pale. She tightly closed her eyes, her tone icy: “Please be quick.”

After waiting for a long while with no movement from him, suddenly her lips were covered by two equally soft lips. He rarely kissed her. In the beginning of their marriage, he would occasionally kiss during the most passionate moments. Probably he had never felt there was any pleasure in kissing. But now he very much wanted to kiss her.

Lip against lip, caressing, pecking lightly, Jiran kissed all the way along the corner of her lips. Her lower lip was full—he couldn’t help opening his mouth to take it in. She immediately moved, as if wanting to break free. He pressed down on her wrists and then kissed down heavily again.

The courtyard was utterly silent, with only the sound of wind rushing through. The familiar delicate body in his arms gradually softened, the skin pressed against his cheek burned hot, breathing grew rapid, and her lips and tongue trembled.

Jiran thought, she still liked him.

The dark clouds shrouding his heart suddenly dispersed again, as if leaving his body, gathering in clusters above Qing Di Palace, blocking out the brilliant sunlight. In Qing Di Palace, which had not seen rain for so long, the first rainfall of this spring day descended.

*

The divine officials of Qing Di Palace discovered that their Qing Di, His Majesty, recently didn’t seem to enjoy staying in Qing Di Palace. From time to time he would run to the Lady’s courtyard halfway up the mountain, delightedly using his sword energy transformed into dragons every day to knock the Lady’s long halberd flying—was he a child?

Regarding this situation, Princess Yaoying seemed even more gloomy. Her cultivation, due to being disturbed every day, made no progress whatsoever.

“Don’t come anymore.”

One day after noon, having hastily dealt with official business, Qing Di appeared again at the courtyard gate. Yaoying was so angry she threw her long halberd at him again, saying: “My cultivation has been thrown into complete chaos by you!”

Jiran caught the long halberd and gently tossed it back to her, his voice actually gentle: “It was chaotic cultivation to begin with. Better not to do it at all.”

Yaoying wanted to summon her previous fierceness, but couldn’t muster that fierce momentum. This must be her pitiful weakness—he had neither said he liked her nor made any other similar indication, yet she already had no way to retreat as gracefully and decisively as last time.

The usually straightforward eldest princess finally developed some hidden thoughts, silently spinning the long halberd around in her hands, lost in thought about something.

The blue figure moved closer and sat down on the corridor, saying: “The cultivation method of throwing the halberd to achieve moving according to one’s will isn’t suitable for your path.”

Yaoying immediately returned to her senses. In matters of martial dao and sword dao, the Huaxu Clan were masters. She immediately consulted humbly: “Then should I continue with close combat and entangling fights? But I always feel something is missing.”

Jiran patted the spot beside him: “Come sit. I’ll explain slowly to you.”

His eldest princess, carrying that bright gaze that made his heart and spirit enchanted, obediently sat down beside him.

Divine Lord Jiran would often think later—if he had known early on that Yaoying was pursuing the great achievement of an indestructible true nature, would he still have so admired her dedication?

The answer was probably still yes in the end. He just liked how passionately she fought toward her own goals, whether it was straightforwardly saying she liked him or pursuing great achievement. That stubborn streak that would never turn back even after a hundred setbacks always made him gaze at her entranced. It was a color completely different from his own, one that had joyfully landed beside him early on, hoping for his response, but he had only now dully discovered it.

But he never told her of these feelings. He didn’t know what the reason was—perhaps he couldn’t say it out loud, or perhaps even he himself hadn’t been able to fully understand it yet. In his view, time was still very long. They still had countless time to squander together. When someday he thoroughly comprehended his feelings, it wouldn’t be too late to tell her then. After all, they were already husband and wife—they would always be together.

Because of the constant calamities of recent times, the divine race had dwindled, and spiritual dreams came earlier than ever before. Seven hundred years after their marriage, a spiritual dream came to Divine Lord Jiran. Princess Yaoying moved back into Qing Di Palace and began the thoroughly cultivation-free, lazy thousand-year pregnancy period.

A thousand years later, at a dawn with clear skies for ten thousand miles and deep blue morning light, Fucang was born.