TDSDE 6

6. It’s actually you!?

Bai Yuanxiu wasn’t seriously injured. Besides, the Demonic Sect had the best apothecary in the martial world—Ye Nanxun, the Azure Dragon Hall Master—so as long as someone wasn’t dead on the spot, they were usually savable.

Bai Yuanxiu had a strong constitution, and after only ten days of medicine, he had pretty much recovered.

As he hurriedly pulled on his clothes, Ye Nanxun, who had just changed his bandages, looked puzzled. “Why are you in such a rush?”

Bai Yuanshou waved the envelope in his hand, a grin spreading across his face. “He sent me a letter.”

When he left last time, Bai Yuanxiu had planned ahead—if someone came looking for him, they were to say he’d gone out. And if someone sent a letter, it was to be forwarded to a jewelry shop owned by the Demonic Sect.

He grabbed his sword, rushed to the stables behind the mountain, picked a horse, and rode off down the mountain humming a tune.

Back in the Vermilion Bird Hall, the two members responsible for intelligence delivery exchanged looks.

“This is weird,” one whispered. “The letter the Left Protector sent out from Yunhua Mountain somehow ended up back in the Right Protector’s hands. What kind of game are those two playing?”

But they didn’t dare speak further, pretending they hadn’t noticed anything at all.

Bai Yuanxiu had no idea that he’d come within a hundred meters of the truth. After leaving the mountain, he made straight for that little southern town, his mind preoccupied with what he’d say when he saw Ah Qing—and what dish he’d cook that day.

Liuzhen, the town in Jiangnan, wasn’t far from Yunhua Mountain. In fact, it sat at the very center of the landmass. It wasn’t the most bustling place, but it was conveniently close to everything.

Bai Yuanxiu had long had his eye on this town. To make it easier to monitor various territories for the Demonic Sect, he’d bought a small courtyard house here.

Later, he met Xiao Qing. To spend more time with him, he borrowed the reputation of a “wandering hero” and traveled the martial world by his side.

As he recalled those memories, a smile crept over Bai Yuanxiu’s face. He set down the basket of pumpkins he bought from the old lady next door and declined her invitation to stay for lunch. Nearly breaking into a run, he entered his courtyard.

The gate wasn’t locked. Bai Yuanxiu’s eyes lit up—Ah Qing was home!

Wanting to surprise him, he crept forward quietly. Upon hearing movement inside, he flung the door open with a bang and burst into the bedroom—

Plop.

The fish he’d just bought at the market slipped from his hand and flopped on the floor, still fresh and wriggling. The door he’d thrown open rebounded off the wall with a creak that echoed harshly in the silence.

Bai Yuanxiu stared wide-eyed at Xiao Qing—or rather, at the clothes Xiao Qing was wearing. The robe was a deep gray, nothing flashy, but with Bai Yuanxiu’s sharp eyes, he could clearly make out the faint ghost-face emblem embroidered on the chest.

It felt like someone had slammed a bronze hammer into his head. He blurted out, “You’re with the Demonic Sect too!?”

Xiao Qing’s startled expression froze in place. He turned to Bai Yuanxiu and asked, “Why did you say ‘too’?”

Bai Yuanxiu clutched his forehead. “Wait, wait, let me process this.”

Xiao Qing, half in the act of removing his outer robe, pulled it back on and stood there stiffly, staring at Bai Yuanxiu with a blank face.

Bai Yuanxiu had a decent memory. He took another look at Xiao Qing, and after confirming that he’d never seen him within the sect, he hesitantly asked, “Which branch hall are you from?”

Xiao Qing tilted his head slightly and blinked. “You first.”

The silence returned. After realizing Xiao Qing’s attitude had changed the moment his identity was exposed, Bai Yuanxiu felt a tightness in his chest, like something was stuck there. Sullenly, he said, “I’m not going first.”

Xiao Qing’s expression softened a bit at his tone.

“Then… let’s say it together?” Xiao Qing suggested.

It seemed like the only way forward. They counted to three—and said in unison:

“I’m not from any branch hall.”

“I’m not affiliated with a branch.”

Bai Yuanxiu: …

Xiao Qing: …

The Demonic Sect’s structure was simple: the Sect Leader, the Left and Right Protectors, and the four Hall Masters. All other members reported to the four halls.

In an instant, both Bai Yuanxiu and Xiao Qing grasped the implications of each other’s words. Their eyes widened, and they exclaimed in unison:

“It’s actually you!?”

Looking at that ethereal, almost celestial face before him, Bai Yuanxiu simply couldn’t reconcile the obedient, innocent Ah Qing with the blood-soaked, unflinching Left Protector of his memories.

“I… I need to step outside. I need to calm down,” he stammered.

Then he bolted out the courtyard gate like he was being chased by a wild beast.

Behind him, Xiao Qing simply lowered his gaze and stood there for a long, long time.

Bai Yuanxiu wasn’t skilled in light footwork, but he tore through Liuzhen like a storm before a summer downpour.

The town was named “Willow Town” (liù zhèn 柳镇) for a reason—its willow trees stretched across the skies like green mist. When the breeze blew, the branches swayed gracefully, like a dancer’s arms in motion.

His unfocused gaze swept past the dancing girls on a music boat. It wasn’t until he heard a burst of applause that he snapped back to reality.

He looked at the ornately decorated boat, then up at the sky—only to realize it was already nightfall.

His thoughts, like an ebbing tide, returned. He remembered that he had heard the city gate’s closing drums before returning to town. But now, he couldn’t bring himself to take even one step closer to that little courtyard.

He wanted to see Xiao Qing—but he was also afraid to see him.

He recalled the time he fought with the Yunhua Sect elder, but couldn’t remember whether Xiao Qing’s face had been fully healed when he saw him earlier.

If he were to see Xiao Qing again, what should he say first?

Bai Yuanxiu sat dazed by the riverside for hours. The lanterns on the music boat dimmed, and the streets emptied. Only when he heard the night watchman striking the hour did he realize the curfew was near.

He wasn’t afraid of causing trouble, but tonight, he didn’t have the heart to get himself into it. Like a weary old man, he shuffled his way back to the courtyard.

It was silent. Pitch black.

And suddenly, Bai Yuanxiu felt a hollow emptiness in his chest.

The room should’ve been lit.

Someone should’ve been waiting for him to come home.

But Xiao Qing was gone—gone without a sound.

Bai Yuanxiu sat on the rooftop for two whole days and nights before finally deciding to leave as well.

He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, only that he had no desire to return to the Demonic Sect.

His mind was in complete chaos, like a tangled knot of thread—until he could make sense of it, he didn’t know how to face the Left Protector.

Without realizing it, Bai Yuanxiu had kept heading west after leaving Liuzhen. It wasn’t until he saw that familiar jujube grove that he realized he had returned to a small village called Mojiazhuang (demon clan village).

“Brother Bai!”

He turned to see a dark-skinned teenager, holding the hand of a little girl with two braided buns. The boy beamed at him in surprise and joy.

The teen greeted him warmly and began dragging him toward his house. “Brother Bai, that pretty young master didn’t come with you?”

Bai Yuanxiu froze for a moment before forcing out a smile.

The boy drew out his words, “Oooh—I get it. You two had a fight.”

Not knowing how to respond, Bai Yuanshou shifted the topic. “How’s your sister doing now?”

At that, the boy lit up like a lantern, becoming a chatterbox with no off switch. “It’s all thanks to you and that other young master. If not for you two…”

Bai Yuanxiu had wanted to say, That was Ah Qing’s doing, but those words lingered at the edge of his tongue, refusing to come out. In the end, he remained silent.

Mojiazhuang lived off their jujube groves. The trees were lush and thriving, but the villagers were dirt poor.

Late last autumn, Bai Yuanxiu and Xiao Qing had passed through and seen someone crying by the roadside. Bai Yuanxiu went to investigate and found a boy sobbing bitterly under a tree.

Turns out, the boy lived alone with his two-and-a-half-year-old sister—who was on the verge of death.

Not from illness, but because a local gentry lord had fallen ill. A Taoist priest claimed the man’s soul had been drained by a tree spirit, and that the cure required the heart and liver of a young girl.

Normally, such a thing would be taken straight to the authorities. But the county constable was a relative of that very lord.

By the time the boy was crying under the tree, his sister had probably already been turned into “medicine.” He’d come to the jujube grove to kill himself—hoping to become a vengeful spirit and seek justice from beyond the grave.

Bai Yuanxiu wasn’t some righteous hero, but he despised that kind of evil. He immediately promised to help the boy get justice.

His style was usually blunt and to the point—he planned to kill both the gentry and the constable. But Xiao Qing had stopped him.

That very night, someone heard screams from the constable’s manor.

Come morning, they found the gentry lord hanging from a beam, his organs removed.

And the Taoist priest? He turned out to be the true monster, a demon who feasted on darkened hearts and livers.

The constable, terrified he’d share the same fate, confessed all his crimes.

He was stripped of his title and thrown into prison.

The new constable was honest and upright, and things began to improve for the village.

During all this, Bai Yuanxiu had been running himself ragged—because that winter came early, and Xiao Qing had suddenly fallen ill.

Others didn’t know what had caused it, but Bai Yuanxiu did.

Xiao Qing’s body ran unusually cold—he couldn’t tolerate the chill. That night, he’d dressed as a monster to frighten the corrupt constable, and to make it convincing, he’d jumped into a frigid pond. By the time Bai Yuanxiu found him, his entire body was burning with fever.

Bai Yuanxiu called for several doctors, but none could pinpoint the cause. They could only prescribe nourishing tonics to help his body recover.

Even so, Xiao Qing would insist he was fine during his lucid moments, saying he just needed rest. But Bai Yuanxiu stayed up day and night, brewing those tonics—mild and restorative, harmless even in excess.

He still remembered that night vividly—Xiao Qing, delirious with fever, clutching his pinky with damp fingers, eyes glassy and brimming with tears from discomfort.

With a voice soft and sticky from illness, Xiao Qing had asked,

“Yuanxiu… can you stay with me… forever?”

How could he not?

If he could, Bai Yuanxiu would have gladly spent his entire life at Xiao Qing’s side.

And so, on that snowy night, they shared a kiss.

Not one borne of lust, but of warmth—scorching, tender, and full of love.