The boat passed the bridge embankment as the bright moon hung perfectly over the branches.

Liu Shuang raised a warmed cup of wine: “Shao You, tell me a story.”

His fingers paused: “What would you like to hear?”

“Anything will do,” Liu Shuang said. Her eyes had lost their luster, no longer as captivating as before, her small face buried in the fox fur. Though the mortal realm had already welcomed spring, she appeared sickly.

Liu Shuang had lost her heart, but her memories remained. Not knowing what to do, listening to Shao You tell stories seemed to be a long-held wish of hers. This body moved like a walking corpse as she rigidly carried out the desires preserved in her memory.

Liu Shuang had been lonely for too long. Sometimes she had the illusion that the paths Shao You had walked were originally paths she should have walked too. Floating wine cups on winding streams, matching steps while singing, the mortal realm had countless romantic stories of talented scholars and beautiful maidens.

The man before her remained silent for a long while before truly telling her a story. His storytelling wasn’t particularly good, lacking novelty and interest, but Liu Shuang listened with great attention.

By the time he finished, her long eyelashes had already closed.

“Shao You” suddenly gripped her shoulders, his hands trembling with such force that the pain made Liu Shuang immediately open her eyes.

Liu Shuang saw his expression and said softly, “I’m sorry, I’m a bit tired. Shao You, keep talking, I’m listening.”

“Don’t sleep,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“But I’m so tired,” Liu Shuang said. “I’m just resting for a moment, I’ll be fine soon.”

Before receiving his consent, she suddenly fell into a cold embrace. He held her tightly, almost hurting her already fragile body.

She felt the body holding her trembling slightly, and tried to look at his face.

“Shao You, what’s wrong?”

He firmly pressed her head down, preventing her from seeing his expression.

Liu Shuang seemed to understand something: “You know I don’t have much time left?”

She smiled gently, raising her hand to pat his head: “It’s alright, Shao You. I’m not very afraid, so you shouldn’t be afraid either. Why are you trembling so violently?”

“I’m not,” he denied.

His speech was quick and cold, suddenly reminding Liu Shuang of another person. She paused for a long time before suddenly asking: “Shao You, what about the safety lock I left with you a hundred years ago? Can you give it to me?”

He hesitated only briefly before saying: “I lost it.”

Liu Shuang opened her tired eyes in his embrace but said nothing more. The gentle warmth surrounding her disappeared, and in a place he couldn’t see, she carried a faint coldness.

Liu Shuang had never left anything with Shao You.

He wasn’t Shao You. She recognized him now, which meant the last breath hanging in her chest couldn’t be exhaled in his arms.

Though Liu Shuang had lost her ability to feel joy or sorrow, she wasn’t foolish. The two men were so different—she should have noticed earlier that he was Yan Chaosheng.

But Liu Shuang didn’t expose him. Fighting against her weakness, she said to him: “Shao You, when daylight comes, could you go across the street and buy me a candied haw stick? It’s been a long time since I’ve had candied haws.”

He remained silent.

“I won’t fall asleep. I’ll wait for you right here.”

Only then did he say: “Alright.”

Liu Shuang indeed kept her word, stubbornly holding on with her last breath, never falling asleep. As the first ray of sunlight fell on her pale cheeks, Yan Chaosheng set her down: “Wait for me, I’ll be back soon.”

Liu Shuang wanted to smile, but finding her cheeks stiff, she couldn’t manage it. Trying to imitate a smile, she realized she had forgotten how to smile. She said: “Alright.”

He left the boat and, fearing she would recognize him, refrained from using ghost cultivator teleportation in front of her.

Liu Shuang slowly sat up, watching him walk away.

She then also left the boat, walking in the opposite direction.

Without his protection, the previously clear sky disappeared, and oppressive thunder rumbled above Liu Shuang’s head, seemingly ready to strike at any moment.

The thunder had followed her for several days. Liu Shuang already knew this was her blood tribulation, arriving two months early.

Fortunately, unable to feel fear, Liu Shuang untied the fox fur from her body, letting it slide off. Her crimson wedding dress was as red as fire.

Liu Shuang knew she couldn’t wait for Shao You any longer.

She didn’t know why Yan Chaosheng had come, and in her current state, she wouldn’t contemplate this question deeply. Her memory told her to stay far away from Yan Chaosheng. She would rather die under the tribulation lightning than in his arms.

Liu Shuang looked at the dark clouds pressing down from the sky and sighed wearily. Why did he have to come? It was such a bother, forcing her to drag her exhausted body away.

Having this thought, Liu Shuang started slightly, vaguely recalling how once, the girl who waited day after day on Qing Cang Mountain would leap with joy if she caught sight of him and Chi Yuan.

Yet now that he appeared by her side again, all she had left was this thought.

Troublesome.

It seemed the person she wanted to wait for, wanted to see, was no longer Yan Chaosheng.

There were no candied haw vendors on the other side of the bridge. Yan Chaosheng finally used his powers to search through the crowd, but still couldn’t find any.

Frowning, he eventually grabbed a sweet soup vendor, tossed him a spirit stone, and said: “Do as I say.”

After quite some time, the vendor, rather inexpertly, produced a stick of candied haws. Before he could offer to remake it, he looked up to find the man had vanished—along with the poorly made candied haws.

When Yan Chaosheng saw the small boat, he pressed his lips together and only approached after a good while. Lifting the curtain, he found it empty, as expected.

He lowered his eyelids, seeing his transformed face reflected in the river water.

The candied haws fell, rippling the water and blurring his expression. Yan Chaosheng sat at the bow, where her cold fragrance seemed to linger faintly in the air.

Yan Chaosheng knew he could still catch up to her if he set off now.

But he shouldn’t go. He was the Lord of Both Realms, feared throughout the Eight Wildernesses, with boundless magical powers and ruthless methods. She was merely a small immortal grass without even a heart.

He had already shown some weakness last night.

He hadn’t extracted the last bit of Radiance power from her body as he had told Wo Jiang he would. Instead, he had lost control and chosen to embrace her.

Ripples spread in circles on the water’s surface. Yan Chaosheng recalled Wo Jiang’s words—the Ji Mo clan of Kun Lun was rarely wrong in their divinations.

Old Wo Jiang had said that if he continued on this path, sooner or later, he would become the Supreme Ruler of the Eight Wildernesses. He did not need to chase after a heartless shell about to crumble.

No one would be so foolish as to be unable to distinguish which option was more beneficial.

Yan Chaosheng was clear-headed. For seven hundred years, he had always known what he wanted and was willing to pay any price for it.

A pile of problems in the Ghost Realm awaited his attention—Dream Concubine’s fury, his clan members’ restlessness. Every moment he wasted was a waste of time.

Yan Chaosheng suddenly stood up and left. After walking several dozen steps, muffled thunder rumbled behind him.

Don’t look back, keep walking forward. He heard a voice say.

He wouldn’t look back. He had never regretted anything, nor would he ever look back! Since he had never felt anything for her, why chase after a broken shell?

After much deliberation, Liu Shuang finally returned to the Cang Lan Immortal Realm.

Using the last breath of immortal energy in her chest, she stumbled to the lakeside. The water reflected the young woman’s figure; she saw that her makeup had smudged and her hair was disheveled.

Liu Shuang touched the water, wanting to make herself look more presentable.

The tribulation lightning frantically intimidated her from above, but she hummed a song her mother had taught her. The phrase “heartless and carefree” reached its peak in her current state. She truly had no heart, allowing her to calmly ignore her impending fate.

The blue lake water was still not very clean. In the few days she had been gone, the desolate immortal realm had not recovered, still presenting a bleak scene.

Liu Shuang was satisfied to see the beauty reflected in the water and thought to herself, if only it would rain.

If a clean, beautiful rain could fall, perhaps after several hundred years, Cang Lan could birth many new small creatures again.

Perhaps hearing her wish, the gods of the Eight Wildernesses truly sent down a rain.

The raindrops quickly soaked her thin clothes. Her wish had come true, and by reason, she should be happy, but no matter what, such emotions could not arise in her heart.

Raindrops fell into the lake as she slowly moved to her birthplace.

Liu Shuang remembered that Grandfather Tree’s true form was not far away. When she was born, she was extremely weak, and all the creatures of Cang Lan had exhausted themselves caring for her.

Grandfather Tree, fearing she would be broken by the wind like a strip of paper, had patiently sheltered her with his canopy that blocked the sky. Sadly, they were all gone now.

The rain fell harder, a spring rain that could bring vitality, but the tribulation lightning above grew increasingly ferocious.

Several days ago, the lightning had been only as thick as fingers, but now it resembled giant pythons.

Liu Shuang understood better than anyone that she could not survive this tribulation. Even without the lightning, she could not go on living—her spirit consciousness had died the moment she lost her heart.

It’s said that at life’s final moment, people like to recall the regrets of their lives. Liu Shuang thought for a long time but couldn’t identify what she regretted.

Perhaps this life was full of regrets everywhere. The blank spaces in her life were too vast; she hadn’t had time to accomplish anything.

The heavy rain poured down, hammering her frail body. The first tribulation lightning, containing tremendous force, struck down.

The moment the purple mystical lightning hit Liu Shuang, her skin split open. Her fingers desperately clutched the soil as she looked toward the lake that had accompanied her growth in Cang Lan.

In her eyes, this spring rain was exceptionally beautiful.

Others might face at most thirty-six bolts of tribulation lightning, but hers contained nine times nine, eighty-one bolts, each seemingly intent on tearing her body apart. Though she was so weak, the Heavenly Way thought too highly of her.

Liu Shuang’s gaze grew vacant, her vision gradually blurring. She knew there wouldn’t be a second bolt of lightning.

She was going to die.

From her chest to her limbs, pain gently spread. Fortunately, the sweetness buried in her memories all surged up, flashing before her eyes like a kaleidoscope—all the happy memories of this life.

The laughter and joy of Cang Lan’s past, her mother’s gentle hands, the beautiful and delicate swing in the courtyard when she was a mortal young lady. Her always serious father who served as an official in court, and Shao You’s gentle face.

When she made mistakes, Shao You would helplessly tap her forehead, and those paths he had guided her along…

At the very end, in her final moments, Liu Shuang hadn’t expected that her memories would still include Yan Chaosheng.

Their first night together, both completely drunk, he looked at her with a smile and asked: “Are you afraid?” She shook her head, her eyes full of trust.

Yan Chaosheng sneered—how foolish.

Red bedding tossed like waves, a night of pleasure. Intoxicated, Liu Shuang still remembered to remind him: You forgot to say you love me.

Yan Chaosheng remained silent, tormenting her until she was half-dead.

That phrase—until the end, Liu Shuang had never heard him say it.

Liu Shuang also recalled her first blood tribulation. That day, the sky flashed with lightning and rumbled with thunder; she had a premonition. Yan Chaosheng had gone to war with his demon soldiers. Liu Shuang, in a panic, held the Ming Xi Pearl that Shao You had given her, praying it would help shield her.

She had curled into a small ball, fearing she would damage Yan Chaosheng’s palace. To avoid affecting her courtyard and Chang Huan, she quickly found an uninhabited place to face the tribulation.

As the tribulation lightning descended, she hugged her head, too afraid to look. Just as it was about to strike her, a figure shielded her from behind.

Yan Chaosheng gave a cold sneer, almost laughing: “Is this how you face tribulation?”

His face was ashen, yet he allowed the lightning to strike his body. The menacing bolts entered his body as he grabbed her, transferring spiritual energy into her while mocking her.

Liu Shuang raised her head in astonishment to look at him as he pinched her face: “What would you do if I weren’t here? Wait to be struck dead by lightning?”

Her heart pounded wildly, that little deer leaping with joy, her eyes bright as she looked at him: “Husband will always be here.”

He held back for a moment before finally smiling: “What a beautiful thought!”

Now it seemed that such dependency back then was truly inappropriate. Mountains you lean on may collapse; people you rely on may leave. In this world, only oneself is truly reliable. It was a pity about Shao You’s Ming Xi Pearl—she shouldn’t have let Mi Chu have it; she should have found a way to get it back. Fortunately, by now, she had completely cut Yan Chaosheng out of her life.

Before the second bolt of tribulation lightning came down, Liu Shuang’s vision completely blurred.

She had waited for the mortal realm’s spring, but could no longer welcome Cang Lan’s spring. She would not see the revival of all things, would not see Cang Lan’s future.

Liu Shuang’s long eyelashes closed, her fingers weakly letting go. In the fierce wind and rain, the tribulation lightning gradually dispersed.

She had breathed her last too early and thus never saw the figure staggering toward her through the heavy rain.

Yan Chaosheng, once commanding the Eight Wildernesses, at that moment couldn’t even summon a cloud to fly.