I once had a Dao companion who was paranoid, bloodthirsty, and obsessively possessive.
For over a decade, we tormented one another until heavenly punishment descended, finally bringing us both release.
When I opened my eyes again, a century had passed.
I awoke trapped within a gloomy ancient mansion.
The young man who roused me said it was the resting place of a fallen great cultivator. The mansion was fraught with danger, and he warned me to stay close to him at all times.
Faceless portraits hung throughout the residence, and from time to time, malevolent spirits crawled out of the paintings.
They slipped their arms around me from behind and brushed gentle kisses across my cheeks before turning their blades on the young man.
I knew the origin of those portraits, and I knew the identity of the mansion’s master.
The young man told me that my impossibly arrogant Dao companion had ultimately perished beneath that same heavenly punishment.
Perhaps this mansion was the last trace he had left behind in the world.
One by one, I burned the weeping portraits, just as I consigned our once beautiful, now unrecognizable past to the flames.
He had once sworn that our struggle would not end until death.
I never imagined that, a hundred years later, I would be the one to outlive him.
After leaving him behind, my cultivation journey was smooth, and I found many cherished friends along the way.
Yet for reasons I could not explain, I kept seeing him in everyone around me.
The young man whose gaze met mine beneath the blossoms reminded me of him.
The spirited rival I crossed blades with in the arena reminded me of him.
The senior sister who became my closest confidante reminded me of him.
…
No one knew about the past we had shared. And yet every new person I met seemed to be him.
Lu Ying was born a fiend, fated to become the great demon lord who would overturn the world.
He never imagined that he would one day suppress his own nature, willingly disguising himself as countless different people simply to amuse her and win her smile.
He watched her betray him.
He watched her share moments of intimacy with “someone else.”
Jealousy drove him to the brink of madness.
Yet every touch from her, every soft kiss, drew him deeper into obsession, leaving him both aggrieved and heartbroken.
“I hate you,” he whispered through tears, kissing her again and again as he bit her crimson lips.
But his soul spoke a different truth.
I like you.
I love you.
