No one spoke again. They simply clung to each other, fingers laced tight, each breath slowly seeping into the other’s heart. Bathed in the glow of the evening clouds, framed by heaven and earth, they made a perfect picture.
The sun slipped down behind the far side of the mountain. Night dropped its veil, and the world changed to another shade. Yu Mi still couldn’t bear to break the atmosphere between them. She had never known that two people could be together like this—saying nothing, doing nothing, just quietly feeling each other’s presence—and have it be so beautiful, so relaxing, so safe.
This peaceful beauty smoothed away the countless tangled emotions in Yu Mi’s chest. That deep sense of reassurance made her whole being light up; her body felt loose and unburdened. Before this, she had always been fighting, competing, struggling for her life—as if the moment she stopped, she would collapse and lose everything. But now, the person holding her so tightly from behind, that soft warm embrace, somehow made her feel that as long as this woman stood behind her, she could laugh arrogantly in the face of the whole world and still feel utterly at ease.
She rose to her feet and slowly turned around to look at the woman beside her. Smiling, she said,
“It’s dark. Planning to spend the night up here on the mountain, exposed to the wind and dew?”
As she spoke, she saw the other woman staring fixedly at her face, eyes gentle as water, her own reflection floating in those pupils. Yu Mi laughed and asked,
“Do I have flowers blooming on my face or something?”
Bao Gu shook her head.
“No.”
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
Seeing the faint glow in Bao Gu’s eyes and the emotion shining there, Yu Mi suddenly felt that even if she had sealed away her memories and forgotten everything they once shared, this woman in front of her would still treat her just the same. Not for any other reason—simply because she was her.
Her heart was overflowing with emotion, but what she showed was a brilliant grin. Teasingly, she asked,
“And if I didn’t know?”
Of course Bao Gu could tell Yu Mi was teasing her. She took Yu Mi’s hand, looking all casual and generous as she said,
“If you don’t know, then you don’t know. I know who you are, anyway.”
She gently circulated her cultivation, lifting both of them into the air, and flew toward the brightly lit city not far away.
Yu Mi found herself wrapped in a soft breeze, yet couldn’t sense the slightest ripple of spiritual power from Bao Gu’s body. She couldn’t help being a little surprised. With her own cultivation at peak Void-Tearing, just half a step shy of the Tribulation stage, she had actually been swept away so easily by Bao Gu.
Focusing her senses, she probed their surroundings. To her shock, though she was clearly flying through the air, it felt more like stepping into a teleportation array—almost in the blink of an eye, they were standing at the gates of Wangyou City. Bao Gu’s grasp of spatial laws had clearly reached a level of true mastery; her realm and strength were far above Yu Mi’s.
Bao Gu noticed Yu Mi staring at her in wide-eyed amazement.
“What is it?” she asked.
Yu Mi said,
“One of these days, I’m definitely sparring with you.”
Bao Gu blinked, then suddenly burst out laughing.
“You’re going to hit me?” she asked, still laughing.
Yu Mi shot her an annoyed glare.
“It’s just a spar. I want to see how much you’ve improved.”
Only after saying that did she suddenly realize how naturally she was interacting with Bao Gu—like the way you automatically pick up chopsticks when you eat. The feeling was wonderful. It made her inexplicably want to smile, until she felt like she must look like an idiot grinning to herself.
Bao Gu said,
“Weapons have no eyes. Aren’t you afraid of hurting me?”
Yu Mi gave a soft snort.
“If I wanted to trim your eyebrows, there’s no way I’d cut your bangs instead.”
Bao Gu leaned in closer, lightly running a slender finger across her own smooth, bare forehead.
“Senior Sister, do you see any bangs on my forehead?”
Yu Mi arched a brow.
“I can help you cut some.”
Bao Gu touched her forehead.
“I don’t think my face suits bangs.”
With that, she hugged Yu Mi’s arm and started toward the city. She’d only taken a couple of steps when she realized she’d somehow picked up Qing Ying’s habit of clinging to someone’s arm. But the feeling of hugging her senior sister’s arm and half-hanging off her side was really wonderful—she was so reluctant to let go. She finally started to understand why Qing Ying liked to cling to her arm so much.
Yu Mi tilted her head to glance at her arm wrapped snugly in Bao Gu’s hold, the corners of her lips lifting in a good mood. Ignoring the curious looks from passersby, she walked into the city with Bao Gu.
They had barely walked half a street when a cautious figure peeked out from the side and quickly came forward. Dropping into a half-kneel, the person cupped his fists and bowed his head.
“Your subordinate greets the Command Envoy, my lord.”
He took out a jade slip and offered it to Yu Mi.
Yu Mi accepted it. After another respectful bow, the man retreated into the shadows and vanished.
She scanned the contents. It was a transmission from Wang Ding, inviting her to the Xiaoyao Pavilion. She had just finished reading when another person arrived, also presenting a jade slip. This one was from Sun Dilong, likewise inviting her to the Xiaoyao Pavilion. Wang Ding and Sun Dilong’s letters had arrived almost at the same time, both calling her to the same place. She didn’t need to think twice to know it would be more of the same annoying business.
She flicked both jade slips into the storage ring on her finger, then led Bao Gu into an extremely luxurious restaurant. They went straight up to a premium private room, where she ordered the server to bring dishes and wine.
She said to Bao Gu,
“These years I’ve roamed everywhere, my steps have basically touched every city in the cultivation world. I know exactly where to find good food.”
As she spoke, she motioned for Bao Gu to take a seat, and with clear enjoyment, started introducing the restaurant’s specialties. When she talked about their wine, her praise was endless.
Before long, the dishes began arriving one by one.
Bao Gu sampled each in turn. The food really was excellent. Compared to the cooks on her flagship, those people’s skills were practically trash fit to be thrown out onto the street. If she brought Qing Ying here for a single meal, Qing Ying would definitely kick up a fuss about changing cooks immediately.
What cheered her the most, though, was that every dish was picked up and placed into her bowl by Yu Mi, who ate along with her.
Yu Mi said,
“When you’re unhappy, eat until you’re full, then hug a wine jar and down a few jars of good wine. Sleep drunk for a few days, and all your worries will scatter.”
Only, that sliver of inexpressible emptiness in her heart had never truly been driven away. But right now, she felt whole, complete.
Bao Gu could clearly sense that her senior sister had changed a little from before. The old Yu Mi had been charged with a fierce, desperate will to fight, like a flame burning itself up to the last ember. Now, there was more ease and warmth about her, her aura drawn inward, steadier, with a calmness that felt like she could sit unmoved even as Mount Tai collapsed before her.
By comparison, Bao Gu herself felt a bit more like a lovestruck girl now—there was a sweetness in being pampered, and even the meal tasted especially good.
After they finished eating, Yu Mi took her flying to the tallest tower in Wangyou City. Each of them held a wine jar, and they slowly drank as they watched the ever-changing starry sky and drifting clouds above.
Bao Gu discovered that from here, the stars didn’t look as clear as they did when she was out within them. It was like a veil of mist had been drawn over them, adding a layer of mystery. She knew that veil was the gang wind layer that shrouded this world. She wondered whether, beyond that layer, there was another vast starry expanse.
She didn’t really want to explore the stars of this realm though. Sharing wine with her senior sister under the moon like this felt just right.
After finishing a jar of wine, Yu Mi lay back in utter contentment, one arm pillowed under her head as she stared up at the unpredictable firmament.
“In the past, I always thought this world was incredibly big,” she said. “So vast and empty that I felt compelled to measure it with my own feet. I thought once I knew its size, I’d finally feel grounded. Later I realized the ‘size’ of heaven and earth isn’t about how big or small they are—it’s all about your state of mind. If you feel it’s big, it’s big. If you feel it’s small, it’s small. When you feel the world is vast and empty, it’s because your heart has nowhere to rest.”
Bao Gu asked,
“And after that?”
Yu Mi said,
“I eventually understood: the reason my heart had nowhere to rest back then was because you were gone. I kept wanting to look for you, wanting to suddenly find you amid the crowd, or stumble across you in some random corner—even though I knew I wouldn’t find you.
“Later, I developed a heart demon. I was trapped inside its illusion. The illusion was beautiful. In it, I spent many years with you. Eventually, I grew old. I found myself falling into strange sleeps more and more often. Your face, your figure, grew blurrier and blurrier. Our days together faded like the ripples left by a boat’s wake, slowly vanishing. I often couldn’t remember the moments we shared. Back then, I constantly had this feeling that my life was approaching its end.
“One time, I woke from another of those long sleeps. You were holding me, gently telling me that if I was tired, I could just sleep. And in that moment, I actually wanted to just fall asleep for good—die quietly in your arms, thinking that passing away like that didn’t seem so bad.”
Hearing this, Bao Gu tightened her grip on Yu Mi’s hand. A sharp pain clenched in her chest. She knew that if Yu Mi had gone on sleeping like that, her consciousness would have completely dissolved. What would have remained was an awareness born from Yu Mi’s heart demon, taking her place.
Yu Mi gave a small, soft laugh and squeezed Bao Gu’s hand in reassurance.
“In that instant,” she said, “I suddenly realized that the one holding me wasn’t the real you.
“I knew I was old, that I was on the brink of death. A voice in my mind told me: ‘You would never just sit there watching me grow weaker and weaker and die. You would never gently coax me to slowly die in your arms. You would fight with everything you had to keep me alive, to make me live well—just as I could never bear to let you die.’
“To be alive… as long as I knew you were still alive, that you were living well, I could be at peace. And in the same way, only if I lived well would you be at ease—not sitting there calmly, watching me die in your embrace.
“When the heart demon saw that I’d seen through it, it changed into my form and accused me. It said I was the one who’d harmed you, that I was your calamity. Because of me, you had almost gone mad, caring about nothing else. Only if I died and left your life would you be able to truly walk your own path. With your fortune and destiny, you’d surely ascend and become an immortal.
“For a moment, I almost believed it. But then I thought about what would happen to you if I died, and my heart hurt in a way it never had before—an unbearable, tearing pain.
“Then the heart demon scattered, and I woke up.
“That closed-door cultivation lasted fifty whole years.
“When I finally emerged, I told myself: even if you were no longer in this world, I had to live well—for you, and for myself.
“I thought of you often, but I couldn’t really remember you. In my memory, you were just a hazy silhouette, tinged with faint sorrow and broken pieces, but also with a warmth I couldn’t put into words.
“Whether you were still here or not, whether you were doing well or not, you had already left an indelible mark on my life.”
Her gaze grew distant and misty as she looked at Bao Gu.
“Bao Gu,” she said softly, “becoming an immortal really doesn’t matter. Being together or not doesn’t really matter either. What matters is that we both live well.
“To be together is so we can live better. If we’re separated, we still have to live well—even if only for the other person’s sake.”
Bao Gu pulled Yu Mi into a tight embrace, heart aching.
Without you, I don’t live well. I’d be lonely,” she said quietly.
Yu Mi hummed softly and buried her head in Bao Gu’s arms.
“With you,” she said, “my heart is at peace.”
