For several seconds, Chu He’s mind was a blank. He stared at the iron chain, motionless, as if he had even forgotten to breathe.
“Zhou Hui…” he finally managed, his voice faint and hoarse. “…Zhou Hui?”
The bedroom door clicked open, and Zhou Hui walked in carrying a steaming teacup. His expression was completely at ease. “Awake?” he asked.
—His expression and voice were so natural, as if he were just gently greeting him in the morning: You’re awake? Did you sleep well?
His attitude was so matter-of-fact that Chu He looked at him, then at the fine steel headboard, and for a moment was speechless.
Zhou Hui’s injuries from the sea of death energy had mostly healed. His new skin was pale from lack of sun, but his demeanor was elegant and composed, his figure strong and agile. That polite yet irresistible aura was wrapped in black clothes, giving him a sense of restrained intimidation.
“You’re too weak. Drink this.”
Zhou Hui sat on the edge of the bed, supported Chu He’s upper body with one arm, letting him lean gently into its crook, and fed him the steaming black liquid from the teacup.
The moment Chu He’s head left the pillow, he felt extremely dizzy. Coupled with the lack of strength in his left arm, he drank several mouthfuls, powerless to resist, before managing to turn his head away. “What… what is this?” he asked.
“Does it taste bad?” Zhou Hui took a small sip. “It seems fine.”
“No…”
“It wasn’t easy to get this. Don’t let my painstaking efforts go to waste.”
Zhou Hui gently wiped the liquid from the corner of his mouth, then, with a gentleness that brooked no resistance, held the back of his neck and fed him several more mouthfuls until the cup was empty. He then gently placed the teacup on the bedside table.
Chu He coughed hoarsely—even his coughs were weak and powerless.
He had lost too much of his heart’s blood. His whole person had a dangerous pallor. Only when he coughed did a faint blush appear on his cheeks, which in turn gave his complexion an almost translucent quality. In the dim light, even the pale blue veins on the side of his neck were clearly visible.
Zhou Hui gently patted his back, letting his head rest in the hollow of his shoulder.
The muscles of his shoulder were thick and very resilient. The thin fabric of his clothes must have been sun-dried, filled with the unique dry scent of sunshine.
The position was actually very comfortable. Chu He’s eyelashes drooped, and he greedily breathed in that warm scent. At first, he struggled, wanting to ask about the iron chain, but his mind soon became hazy.
In a blur, he only felt Zhou Hui’s palm gently caressing his face.
“You’re too weak…” he said in a low voice. “…You should sleep some more.”
·
Chu He drifted in and out of sleep. Each time he woke, he would be fed that strange, viscous black liquid, and then he would quickly lose consciousness again, falling back into a dark, sweet dreamscape.
He had many dreams, chaotic and bizarre. They were not only filled with anxiety and fear, but also memories from many years ago when the children were still small and the family of four lived together. At that time, even Maha was just a little bird chick running around. Jia Louluo was still a newborn who only knew how to wail. Zhou Hui had just reached a delicate reconciliation and balance with the Heavenly Dao, and the family had finally moved from the chaos between the six realms to the human realm. Maha found everything novel, chirping around his parents every day, asking about this and that. Sometimes, when Zhou Hui got annoyed with the questions, he would scoop Maha up and perch him on his head, ignoring his squeals of laughter and protest as he rushed along the ridges of the fields and into the mountain forest…
Those were the rare times when Zhou Hui and Maha were at peace with each other.
When did it all quietly change?
Was it when Maha slowly grew up, his temper getting worse and worse, even developing the demonic blood-red pupils characteristic of his father’s race?
Was it when Zhou Hui discovered that his eldest son’s soul was becoming more and more familiar, like a mirror image of his younger self, even perfectly replicating the evil, bloodthirsty, violent, and cold soul of a demon?
Or was it even earlier, late one night, when a young Maha, crying in terror, came knocking on his parents’ door, sobbing that he had dreamed of his mother dying tragically before his eyes?
The ominous seed planted by fate many years ago had finally, with time, broken through the soil and sprouted. In a corner of this family, it quietly revealed its ferocious smile.
·
Chu He didn’t know how long he had slept. Finally, one day when he woke up and saw Zhou Hui bringing the black liquid again, he suddenly realized something. “…There’s a sedative in this, isn’t there?”
Zhou Hui looked at him quietly.
The bedroom doors and windows were still tightly shut, the thick curtains blocking all light. The enclosed space was safe and warm. It was just that the light was too dim, making Zhou Hui’s handsome and deep-set features look somewhat indistinct.
“…It’s a blood-generating plant that grows near the Sea of Blood in the demon realm. This is the juice boiled from the dried and chopped plant. It also has a sleep-aiding effect.” After a long moment, he said softly, “You need to sleep more. I have no other intentions.”
Chu He raised his left hand, and the iron chain rattled. “Then what about this?”
The break in his left arm had almost healed, but it was still weak and he couldn’t exert any force. He had tried to break free from the chain, but the slightest struggle caused muscle spasms, his fingers to tremble, and a cold numbness at his fingertips from prolonged lack of blood flow.
Zhou Hui took his cold hand and held it in his own palm, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it. The gesture was somewhat like an antique enthusiast caressing a beloved piece in his collection, but his face was impassive. After a moment, he said leisurely, “What’s this? It’s just that the blood vessels inside haven’t healed properly. I was afraid you’d move around too much.”
“…Then if I don’t move, can you open it?”
Zhou Hui was quiet for a moment. Chu He stared at him without blinking. After a long while, he saw him chuckle. “Sure. Give me a kiss, and I’ll open it.”
Chu He was taken aback.
He slowly leaned his head forward until his nose was almost touching Zhou Hui’s, inhaling the man’s vigorous and refreshing scent, like that of a forest grove.
The scent made him a little dazed. The tip of his nose couldn’t help but wander and sniff lightly at his cheek and lips. As their breaths intertwined, a slight sense of intoxication rose from the depths of his mind.
“Zhou Hui…” he said subconsciously.
Zhou Hui lowered his eyes to look at him, a faint smile on his lips, seeming to hold a hint of subtle encouragement.
Chu He closed his eyes and pressed a deep kiss on his warm lips.
A lingering, ambiguous breath rose from the dimness, like a hazy dream. But this dream was strangely calming, peaceful. All the anxious struggles of hopelessness and the fear of not obtaining what was desired gradually faded away, turning into faint, distant stars on the horizon.
“Phoenix…” Zhou Hui’s slightly rough thumb caressed his cheek, feeling the delicate, cool temperature, and let out a low, inaudible sigh.
“My… little Phoenix…”
Chu He looked up at him, his mind not entirely clear, his eyes still somewhat unfocused. In that moment, his watery eyes were as bewildered as in his distant youth, stumbling forward, undeterred, even if it meant treading on thorns to walk into an abyss.
Zhou Hui pressed his head against his chest, kissed his hair, and then reached his hand into his chest cavity.
Chu He’s breathing quickened, and he struggled slightly, but was soon held down by Zhou Hui. A moment later, his hand emerged from Chu He’s chest, shockingly, holding a key.
—It was the bronze key that once hung beneath his heart.
Chu He’s pupils widened abruptly. But Zhou Hui leaned down and used this key to unlock the iron lock on his wrist.
“Your spinal lock…” he said leisurely, “…isn’t this one.”
Chu He’s fingertips trembled slightly. But Zhou Hui smiled, a hint of almost pitying amusement in his eyes. He drank the black juice from the teacup on the bedside table in one gulp and leaned over to feed it to Chu He, mouth to mouth.
Perhaps because his emotions were too turbulent, Chu He didn’t react at all. All the liquid slid smoothly down his throat as their lips and tongues intertwined. Zhou Hui licked away the last drop of medicine from the corner of his lips. “Sleep. Get a good sleep.”
·
A few weeks later, Chu He was finally allowed to get out of bed, eat liquid food, and leave the bedroom.
However, he still couldn’t go outside. Zhou Hui strictly controlled his range of activities this time, drawing prohibition spells on the windows, the balcony, and even the bathroom ventilation fan.
In truth, he didn’t have to go to such lengths, as Chu He’s physical strength wasn’t enough to support him walking outside anyway. The temperature in the house was carefully adjusted. Under the warm autumn sun, he would often curl up on the sofa and fall asleep without realizing it, then be held in the arms of Zhou Hui, who was sitting beside him reading. They would cuddle together until dusk.
Phoenix’s extremely depleted blood qi was slowly being replenished, but the injuries and illnesses accumulated over many years had not healed. His body was still very weak, and his physical strength was controlled to a certain level—that was the effect of the lock around his lumbar spine.
Sometimes, after he had fallen into a deep sleep, Zhou Hui would carry him from the sofa back to the comfortable large bed in the bedroom. He would stroke the deep indentation of his lower back above his hips, caressing the lock that pierced through his lumbar vertebrae over and over again.
He seemed to find satisfaction for a secret and restrained desire in this act, a terrible desire for control that was never spoken of, but that they both understood implicitly.
·
Occasionally, when Chu He could remain lucid for a longer period, Zhou Hui would also tell him some of what was happening outside.
The investigation into the Snow Mountain Goddess incident was nearing its end. All the follow-up work, including quelling rumors, cleaning up the death energy, and appeasing all sectors of society, was almost complete. The perpetrator of this incident—the body of Liao Liang, the red princeling from the military commission—was found in the tunnel. He had probably died from corrosion after inhaling too much death energy. Before he died, he was lying next to a cryo-coffin, which contained the body of his “first love,” Lu Xiaochen.
Tragically, the investigation revealed that Lu Xiaochen had only been a university classmate of Liao Liang’s and had never been in a so-called relationship with him. Lu Xiaochen and Bo Chao had been a couple during university. After graduation, they both went abroad for further studies and had no idea about Liao Liang’s secret crush. Years later, when he returned to the country to look for a job, he happened to meet Liao Liang again, only to find that his former classmate was pursuing him with an almost coercive intensity. In shock, he immediately chose to distance himself, even withdrawing the resume he had submitted to Liao Liang’s company.
However, everything spun out of control after that. Liao Liang schemed to make it impossible for him to find a job in the industry and simultaneously arranged with the police station to have Bo Chao detained. An enraged Lu Xiaochen went to reason with Liao Liang. An argument broke out, and in a fit of emotion, Liao Liang kidnapped and imprisoned him in a private villa he owned.
At the same time, under the conscious approach and inducement of the Snow Mountain Goddess, Shakti, Liao Liang decided to go all the way and kill Bo Chao to eliminate the problem for good. This was so similar to when Shakti had tried to assassinate the Phoenix Wisdom King back then. The only difference was that Shakti had failed and was thus stripped of her divinity and cast into the six paths of reincarnation. Liao Liang, on the other hand, easily succeeded with his wealth and power, hiding Bo Chao’s body in the concrete wall of an abandoned warehouse.
But the subsequent developments quickly spiraled out of Liao Liang’s control.
After learning of Bo Chao’s murder, Lu Xiaochen attempted to take revenge and assassinate Liao Liang, but quickly failed due to his complete lack of experience. Devastated by both the physical and psychological blows, he broke down. In his despair, he took a very drastic action—on a day when the guards were lax, he escaped from Liao Liang’s villa and went to the warehouse where Bo Chao had been murdered, and committed suicide.
Perhaps he just wanted to die with his lover, but the coincidence of the location did greatly help Zhou Hui to quickly find the warehouse later and bring their injustice to light—but that is a story for another time.
After Lu Xiaochen’s suicide, Liao Liang was grief-stricken. He preserved his beloved’s body and turned to the “Mirror Demoness,” whom he believed to be omnipotent, for help. Shakti then helped him lure many bar boys home, draining their yang energy before killing and burying them. He used the yang energy to maintain the last bit of activity in Lu Xiaochen’s body. But one day, an accident occurred while draining the yang energy, and a bar boy turned into a hopping corpse, attracting the attention of the State Security’s special division.
What followed was chaotic and uncontrollable. After Shakti obtained Phoenix’s soul, she certainly did not use it to revive Lu Xiaochen as she had led Liao Liang to believe. Instead, she prepared to use the soul in conjunction with the Thousand Degree Mirror’s ultimate realm to deal with Zhou Hui. Liao Liang went nearly insane over this. Shakti, annoyed, shoved him into the tunnel. As a result, when the sea of death energy erupted, Liao Liang had no way to survive down there.
“—In short, it was a tragedy born of a mad, twisted love,” Zhou Hui said, leaning back on the sofa, lazily flipping through an art album. “Parting from what one loves, meeting what one hates, and not getting what one wants—the three great sufferings of life. They are impossible to overcome.”
Chu He leaned in his arms. After a long moment, he said softly, “That’s not love, is it… Even if there was love, Liao Liang only loved himself. Or rather, he was just in love with the fantasy of himself, pining for the unattainable, deeply and without regret…”
Zhou Hui laughed, saying lightly, “My dear, where does possessiveness come from if not from love? Your logic is flawed from the start.”
Chu He didn’t argue with him. After a moment of silence, he changed the subject. “—Then what about Deputy Chief Yu and the others? How did they escape in the end?”
Deputy Chief Yu survived because Situ, at a critical moment, suddenly transformed into a Hou, blocking a fatal blow from Trailokyavijaya Wisdom King. The Hou is a top-tier demonic beast that a Jiangshi cultivates into after first becoming a Hanba. Once a Jiangshi transforms into a Hou, it can scorch the earth for a thousand li and even has the strength to battle a dragon. Although called a beast, it is actually a creature of the Hell Path.
After the Golden-Haired Hou appeared, it shed its entire skin, which wrapped around Yu Jingzhong and a few of his subordinates just before the sea of death energy flooded the stone chamber, buying them a precious twenty minutes. Before the Hou’s skin was completely corroded by the death energy, Yu Jingzhong and the others finally found a sewer exit and escaped from the sea of death energy.
However, the Hou’s skin, which contained hundreds of years of magical power, was completely reduced to ashes. The skinless Golden-Haired Hou was demoted back to a Hanba, which was why when he later attacked the Snow Mountain Goddess, he appeared in the form of a Jiangshi rather than a demonic beast.
If Situ Yingzhi wanted to cultivate from a Hanba back to the peak state of a Hou, it would require luck, opportunity, and a very long time, none of which could be lacking. He was the pillar of Team 3. After this great disaster, Team 3’s strength was greatly damaged. Add to that Team 5, which was completely wiped out in the State Security turmoil, and Team 4, which might as well not exist—the human resources of State Security’s six divisions had once again broken its historical low point.
Yu Jingzhong issued a recruitment order to Team 2’s leader, Wu Er, who was stationed in the Northeast. He also dropped hints several times, wanting Zhou Hui to let Chu He come out and rebuild Team 4, but Zhou Hui never agreed.
He acted as if nothing was wrong, spending a great deal of time at home with Chu He every day, even though the latter was mostly in a muddled state, his extremely exhausted and weak body forcing him into silence and submission.
But Zhou Hui didn’t care.
He held Chu He, leaning back on the living room sofa. Sometimes he would read to him. In the golden autumn sunlight, he would read about the scene where Prince Calaf first sees the proud and cold Princess Turandot, falls madly in love with her, calls her name three times below the city tower, and declares his intention to marry her.
Zhou Hui’s voice was low, deep, and magnetic, like small stones dropped into sunlight, creating captivating ripples.
This apartment, hidden in the vast metropolis, was like a small, isolated island in a chaotic world. Facing the approaching thunder, lightning, and storms in the distance, it held fast to its current fragile and fleeting tranquility.
