Chapter 110

Fu Ming's pupils abruptly constricted. His heart jolted, the violent pounding nearly numbing his entire body, as if all the blood in his veins had frozen.

He could clearly feel his frantic heartbeat, and in that instant, some emotion suppressed for a long time seemed to finally burst through its dam.

Yet the kiss was fleeting—Lin Yu merely brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth before quickly pulling away.

As Lin Yu blinked, Fu Ming's thoughts fixed on her slender eyelashes, like the trembling wings of a butterfly gliding over the earth in spring.

It was as if his heart had been swept by the faint current of air stirred by that butterfly's wings; it lightly scratched his chest, leaving him feeling hollow and flustered—an emotion hard to put into words.

Fu Ming's Adam's apple bobbed. His gaze followed Lin Yu as she retreated, and he unconsciously licked the corner of his lips—the spot she had just kissed.

It seemed only then did Lin Yu realize something was wrong...

He merely disliked her and didn't want to be entangled with her—it wasn't some grave offense. How could she just kiss him out of spite?

He didn't like her, so why was she forcing herself on him?

Lin Yu suddenly felt that Fu Ming at this moment was like a... virtuous man who had been molested by a lecher...

She was guilty...

Lin Yu pressed her lips together. She could clearly see that the way Fu Ming looked at her had changed. She shrank back, awkwardly explaining like someone who had done something wrong: "I just wanted to confirm whether you hate me... nothing more..."

"You... you believe me?" Lin Yu had never felt so guilty.

The moonlight shimmered, cascading down from the horizon and falling on Fu Ming's face, making his brows and eyes appear even more coldly handsome, yet his eyes were bright.

She saw her own reflection in his gaze. Fu Ming stared at her deeply.

The atmosphere grew increasingly awkward. Seeing that Fu Ming showed no sign of responding, only watching her, Lin Yu fixed her eyes on his rosy lips and, as if possessed, licked her own.

All around was silent, as if the entire world had shrunk to just the two of them.

The two exchanged a long gaze, and Lin Yu maintained her position with her arms around Fu Ming's neck. His warmth seeped into her, bringing some warmth to her icy-cold hands.

Suddenly, Fu Ming lowered his eyes and leaned toward her.

It seemed he had figured something out—or perhaps he simply no longer wanted to think about anything else.

"Hey..." Lin Yu let out a startled cry.

In that instant, Fu Ming pressed down on her. His cool lips met hers, and his returning kiss caught her completely off guard. Lin Yu's back struck the windowsill with a dull thud.

Before the pain came, Fu Ming's warm palm arrived.

His scorching hand cradled the back of her neck. She felt his warmth, along with the thin calluses on his palm and knuckles from years of practicing the sword.

Lin Yu couldn't make a sound under his kiss. Tangled in the meeting of lips and teeth, all she could manage were a few faint, muffled whimpers. She tried to push Fu Ming away, but he was nearly half-leaning on her, pressing her down so she couldn't move, giving her no chance to push him off.

The harder she tried, the deeper he kissed. So Lin Yu simply gave up struggling and began to kiss him back.

Sensing that Lin Yu was having trouble breathing, Fu Ming's movements softened considerably—from the initially urgent, rough kiss to gentle ones. His palm cradled the back of her head, and her pitch-black hair slipped through his fingers, sliding down.

Because of his forward-leaning posture, Fu Ming's long hair cascaded from his back, falling against Lin Yu's neck and intertwining with her own tresses. Their dark, ink-like strands wound together, impossible to tell apart.

His other hand caught the one she had first raised against his chest to push him away, guiding it around to his waist. Lin Yu obediently embraced him, her arms circling his sides.

When had it become like this?

Perhaps, from the very beginning—from the first glance at Lin Yu—she had always been someone special to Fu Ming.

In the Temple of Ten Thousand Gods, the faint incense rose, the smoke condensing and drifting, filling the entire temple and wrapping it in a haze of tender atmosphere. Through the mist, Lin Yu appeared before him.

Fu Ming seemed to once again catch the scent of sandalwood from that temple.

Kisses rained down, Fu Ming's movements growing ever gentler, almost reverent, as he carefully pressed his lips to hers.

Outside the window, the sound of drizzling rain arose, thin threads like mist falling from the sky.

Raindrops landed on the eaves, struck the peach branches, and dripped among the apricot blossoms scattered on the ground. The rain mixed with Fu Ming's breathing, distinctly clear against her ear.

At the edge of her lips was a soft, damp touch. Her palm touched Fu Ming's back, and she unconsciously traced the intricate, elegant hidden patterns on his robes with her fingertips. Lin Yu felt almost wholly enveloped by the aloeswood fragrance radiating from Fu Ming.

As he kissed her, Fu Ming rubbed his nose gently against her cheek, tickling her slightly.

Lin Yu let out a soft laugh. As she laughed, Fu Ming's lips were still pressed to hers, and he asked in a low voice, "What are you laughing at?"

As he spoke, his lips moved slightly against hers. Lin Yu found that not only her cheek was ticklish—his lips were tickling her too.

"Stop rubbing against me, it tickles." Lin Yu pressed a finger to Fu Ming's lips, pushing him back. "Are you a cat or something, always nuzzling people with your face?"

Fu Ming promptly kissed her fingertip again. Lin Yu froze, pulling her hand back, and seeing her withdraw it, Fu Ming lightly pecked the corner of her lips once more.

Something's wrong... Lin Yu's fingers curled slightly, the knuckle he had kissed unconsciously burning. Wasn't he the one who hated being entangled with her?

Those courtiers claimed Fu Ming adored her—wasn't he always so angry about it?

And now this?

It suddenly dawned on Lin Yu... Maybe it wasn't anger, wasn't resistance, but rather the shame of having his feelings seen through by others?

He truly adored her?!

"You..." Once she figured this out, she didn't know what to say for a moment. After a long pause, Lin Yu squeezed out that single word.

"I still have things to do... I'll be going now..." Lin Yu tried to escape, but he held her tightly in his embrace, and she couldn't break free at all.

"Thinking of running after teasing me?" Fu Ming's hand slid down from the back of her head, pressing against her back and pulling her into his arms, as if afraid she might actually flee. "How can you be like this..."

Fu Ming buried his face in the crook of Lin Yu's neck, holding her tightly and refusing to let go.

Lin Yu was not used to embraces. To her, it was a strange sensation—the two pressed together, separated only by a layer of clothing, each able to feel the other's heartbeat.

Perhaps out of a healer's instinct, she had always enjoyed observing people's breathing and pulse, because they were proof that a person was alive—a sign of life, the only standard for judging whether someone was dead or alive.

Heartbeat, breath, pulse—you and I, endlessly living on.

Lin Yu lowered her eyes, listening to Fu Ming's deep, steady heartbeat. She felt inexplicably at peace, but she still had to rebut his baseless accusation.

Who molested whom, after all?

"I only kissed you once. What about you?" Her tone was accusatory.

She had only started it, but Fu Ming had kissed her back dozens of times, and he was cuddling and holding her, refusing to let go.

"I don't care—you molested me first." He nuzzled against her neck, his voice muffled, apparently playing the shameless card.

Lin Yu laughed in exasperation. She patted Fu Ming's back gently as a placating gesture. "Fine, fine, I have improper designs on you."

"But after teasing you, I won't take responsibility. Even if you go crying to someone else later, it won't help." She said it jokingly.

Fu Ming's wandering thoughts were pulled back by Lin Yu's words. He paused mid-motion. Only then did he realize that the brief moment just now felt like something stolen—like a dream of yellow millet.

She was his personally chosen Divine Maiden, with a bright future ahead, while he was merely a tyrant who had gone mad from cultivating demonic arts. From the very beginning, they were destined to have no connection.

The best ending Fu Ming could imagine was Lin Yu successfully achieving Ascension, his own death and demise, and the succession of divine power—bringing peace to the world and clear rivers and calm seas.

But this long life—clearly feeling the pain of a lifetime, clearly sensing the passing of life, and ultimately accepting a fated death—was too agonizing, too bitter.

Like being trapped in a damp drizzle, tossing and turning for a lifetime, hesitating at every step, never able to escape this unending gloom, never seeing the rain stop.

A person ought to forget everything at certain moments, escape fate, and only feel the present.

The past, the future—none of it mattered anymore.

Only the look in his beloved's eyes when she gazed at him right now could make him feel that he was still alive.

"Alright..." Fu Ming answered in a muffled voice. He heard how hoarse his own voice was. One cannot force a cause and effect; a lovely beginning and a bitter end were always fated.

"Hold me a little longer." He seemed resigned, his voice thick with a rasp.

Lin Yu couldn't see Fu Ming's expression at that moment, nor did she know what he was thinking, but in the end, she gently patted his back. "Alright, let's hold on a little longer."

...

At Bushou Hall.

It was already past midnight. Because the group of elders had gone out and not yet returned, many new formations had been set up at the summit of the Divine Mountain, as if to guard against intruders. Relying on clues she had obtained earlier, she easily found the formation's eye, crossed the layers of formations on the Divine Mountain, and entered Bushou Hall.

The Xianzun disliked ordinary servant disciples approaching the summit, so after his departure, no one had come in to clean Bushou Hall. Everything remained exactly as it had been at noon that day.

The Xianzun had left in a hurry; the dark window of Bushou Hall remained unclosed, the wind howling and whistling through it. On the floor lay scattered fragments of a vase that had been accidentally knocked over. Pale blue moonlight spilled into the hall, illuminating its layout clearly.

Lin Yu opened the dark window. Tonight's moonlight was a little too bright—rather than diminishing in the latter half of the night, it had only grown stronger.

She slipped expertly into the side hall and, sure enough, saw that statue once again.

The bright moonlight fell upon the statue, which was only a bare silhouette, making it appear even softer. Judging only by the figure, one could tell it depicted a woman. Her features had yet to be carved, and her robes were only sketched in a few strokes, with no discernible pattern.

Lin Yu looked at the statue without speaking. A strange feeling rose in her heart.

She hadn't had time to examine it closely during the Spring Sacrifice, but now she could see—the statue's figure was almost identical to her own, as if it had been made from the same mold.

She stood before the statue, two remarkably similar forms facing each other. In the dim, shifting light, it was like standing face-to-face with herself.

It was at that moment that an aged voice came from behind her. "I knew you would come. It was worth waiting for you again."

A chill ran down Lin Yu's spine at the sound—she was all too familiar with the owner of that voice. She paused for a moment before finally turning around. Seeing the person, she lowered her eyes and said in a gentle tone, "Xianzun."

The Xianzun stood behind her and spoke flatly. "You are not Lin Yu."

"Who are you?"