For several seconds, Chu He’s mind was blank. He just stared at the iron chain, unmoving, as if he had even forgotten to breathe.
“Zhou Hui…” After a long while, he finally uttered a faint, hoarse sound: “…Zhou Hui?”
The bedroom door clicked open. Zhou Hui walked in, carrying a steaming teacup, his expression natural: “Awake?”
—His expression and voice were so natural, as if it were just a gentle morning greeting: “Are you awake? Did you sleep well last night?” His attitude was so matter-of-fact that Chu He looked at him, then at the steel-forged headboard, speechless for a moment.
Zhou Hui’s injuries from the Sea of Death Qi had mostly healed. His new skin was a little pale from lack of sunlight, but his demeanor was elegant and composed, his physique strong and agile. The polite yet irresistible aura was wrapped in his black clothes, giving him an unspeakable sense of restrained deterrence.
“You’re too weak. Drink this.”
Zhou Hui sat on the bed, cradling Chu He’s upper body in one arm, gently resting him in the crook of his arm, and fed him the steaming black liquid from the teacup. Chu He’s head spun violently the moment it left the pillow. With his left arm unable to exert any force, he had no means of resistance and drank several mouthfuls before finally managing to turn his head and ask, “What… what is this?”
“Doesn’t taste good?” Zhou Hui took a small sip. “It’s fine, though.”
“No…”
“It was very difficult to get this. Don’t waste my painstaking efforts.”
Zhou Hui gently wiped the liquid from the corner of his mouth, then very gently and irresistibly held the back of his neck, feeding him several more mouthfuls until the cup was empty, before gently placing the teacup on the nightstand.
Chu He coughed hoarsely—even his coughs were weak and powerless. He had expended too much of his heart’s blood. His entire being was dangerously pale. Only when he coughed did a faint blush appear on his cheeks, making his complexion seem almost translucent. In the dim light, even the pale blue veins on the side of his neck were clearly visible.
Zhou Hui gently patted his back, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder. His shoulder muscles were thick and very resilient. The thin fabric of his clothes must have been sun-dried, as it carried the unique dry scent of sunlight. This posture was actually very comfortable. Chu He’s eyelashes drooped, greedily inhaling the warm scent. At first, he struggled, wanting to ask about the iron chain, but his mind quickly became hazy.
In a daze, he only felt Zhou Hui’s palm gently caressing his face. “You’re too weak…” he murmured, “…You should sleep more.”
Chu He drifted in and out of sleep. Each time he woke up, he would be fed that strange, viscous black liquid, then quickly lose consciousness and fall back into a deep, sweet slumber.
He had many dreams, chaotic and fantastical, not only of anxiety and fear but also memories from many years ago when their children were young and their family of four lived together.
At that time, even Maha was a little bird constantly running around, Jia Louluo was a newborn who only cried, and Zhou Hui had just reached a subtle reconciliation and balance with the Heavenly Dao. The family had finally moved from the chaos between the Six Realms to the human world. Maha found everything new and exciting, chirping and asking his parents questions every day.
Sometimes, when Zhou Hui grew annoyed with the incessant questions, he would pick Maha up and place him on his head, disregarding his gleeful shouts and laughter, and dash along the field paths into the mountains…
Those were some of the rare times Zhou Hui and Maha coexisted peacefully.
When did all of this quietly change? When Maha slowly grew up, his temper worsening, and even developing the demonic blood-red eyes characteristic of his birth father?
When Zhou Hui discovered that his eldest son’s soul was becoming increasingly familiar, like his own younger self in a mirror, even perfectly replicating the evil, bloodthirsty, irritable, and cold soul of a demon? Or even earlier, one late night, when a young Maha cried out in terror, knocking on his parents’ door, sobbing that he had dreamt of his mother dying tragically before his eyes?
The ominous seed planted by fate many years ago finally, with time, broke through the soil and sprouted, quietly revealing its ferocious smile in a corner of this family.
Chu He didn’t know how long he had slept. Finally, one day he woke up and, looking at the black liquid Zhou Hui brought again, suddenly realized something: “…This stuff has a sedative in it, doesn’t it?”
Zhou Hui looked at him silently. The bedroom doors and windows were still tightly closed, the curtains thick and completely opaque. The enclosed space was safe and warm. Only the light was too dim, making Zhou Hui’s handsome, deep-set face appear a little obscure.
“…This is the sap of a blood-replenishing plant that grows near the Demon Realm’s Sea of Blood, brewed after being dried and chopped. It also has a sleep-inducing effect,” he said softly after a moment. “You need to sleep more. I have no other intentions.”
Chu He raised his left hand, and the iron chain clanged: “Then what about this?”
The severed part of his left arm was almost healed, but it was still weak and lacked strength. He had tried to break free from the iron chain, but with even a slight struggle, his muscles would spasm, his fingers would tremble, and his fingertips would feel the coldness and numbness of prolonged ischemia.
Zhou Hui took his cold hand, held it in his palm, and gently caressed the back of his hand with his thumb. This gesture was somewhat like an antique collector caressing his beloved collection, but his face remained impassive. After a moment, he leisurely said, “What’s wrong with this? It’s just that the blood vessels inside haven’t healed well. I’m afraid you’ll move around.”
“…Then if I don’t move around, can you open it?”
Zhou Hui was silent for a moment. Chu He stared at him unblinkingly. After a while, he heard him chuckle: “Of course, if you kiss me, I’ll open it.”
Chu He was startled. He slowly leaned forward, almost touching Zhou Hui’s nose, inhaling the vigorous and fresh scent of this man, like a thicket of trees. This scent made him slightly dazed. His nose instinctively drifted across his cheek and near his lips, sniffing lightly. As their breaths mingled, a slight intoxication rose from the depths of his mind.
“Zhou Hui…” he instinctively said.
Zhou Hui looked down at him, his smile faint, seemingly hiding a subtle encouragement. Chu He closed his eyes and imprinted a deep kiss on his warm lips. The lingering, ambiguous breath of intimacy rose from the dimness, like a hazy dream. But this dream was strangely soothing and peaceful. All the restless anxiety of desperate struggle and the fear of unfulfilled desires gradually receded, turning into distant, faint stars in the sky.
“Phoenix…” Zhou Hui’s slightly rough thumb rubbed against his cheek, feeling the delicate, cool temperature, letting out an almost inaudible sigh. “My… little Phoenix…”
Chu He looked up at him. His mind was not very clear, and his gaze was still a bit unfocused. At that moment, his tear-filled eyes were as bewildered as in his distant youth. Even if he had to walk through thorns into the abyss, he would stumble forward, unswervingly.
Zhou Hui pressed his head against his chest, kissed his hair, then reached his hand into his chest cavity. Chu He’s breathing quickened, and he struggled slightly, but was quickly pressed down by Zhou Hui. A moment later, his hand emerged from Chu He’s chest cavity, holding a key.
—It was the bronze key that had once hung beneath his heart.
Chu He’s pupils suddenly widened. Zhou Hui, however, leaned down and used this key to unlock the iron shackle on his wrist.
“Your spine lock…” he said leisurely, “is not this one.”
Chu He’s fingertips trembled slightly, but Zhou Hui smiled, a hint of almost pitying playfulness in his gaze. He drank the black liquid from the teacup on the nightstand, then leaned down and fed it to Chu He mouth-to-mouth. Perhaps due to his highly agitated emotions, Chu He showed no reaction at all. All the liquid smoothly slid down his throat amidst the intertwining of their lips and tongues. Zhou Hui extended his tongue to lick away the remaining medicine from the corner of his lips: “Sleep, sleep well.”
Several weeks later, Chu He was finally allowed to get out of bed, eat soft foods, and leave the bedroom. However, he was still unable to go outside. This time, Zhou Hui strictly controlled his range of activity, drawing forbidden spells on the windows, balcony, and even the bathroom fan. In truth, he didn’t necessarily need to be so strict, as Chu He’s physical strength wasn’t enough to support him going outside anyway. The temperature in the house was carefully adjusted. In the warm autumn sunlight, he often curled up on the sofa and unconsciously fell asleep, then was carried into the arms of Zhou Hui, who was reading nearby, and they would snuggle together until dusk.
The Phoenix’s severely depleted blood qi was slowly being replenished, but the accumulated injuries from years past had not healed. His body was still very weak, and his physical strength was kept below a certain level—that was the effect of the lumbar ring lock.
Sometimes, after Chu He fell asleep, Zhou Hui would carry him from the sofa back to the comfortable bed in the bedroom, caressing the deeply indented lower back above his buttocks, repeatedly rubbing the ring lock that pierced through his lumbar spine. He seemed to satisfy a secret and repressed desire through this action—a terrible possessiveness that could not be easily revealed, but which both of them tacitly understood.
Occasionally, when Chu He was able to stay awake for an extended period, Zhou Hui would tell him about events happening outside. The investigation into the Snow Mountain Goddess incident was nearing its end, including calming rumors, clearing the death qi, and various aftermath arrangements for all sectors of society, which were almost complete.
The instigator of this incident—Liao Liang, the third-generation Red Army scion from the Military Commission—had his body found in the underground passage. He had likely died from corrosion after inhaling too much death qi. Before his death, he had been lying next to a refrigerated coffin, which contained the remains of his “first love,” Lu Xiaochen.
Tragically, after investigation, it was discovered that Lu Xiaochen and Liao Liang were merely university classmates and had never been in a so-called romantic relationship. Lu Xiaochen and Bo Chao had been a couple in college. After graduation, they both went abroad for further studies, never knowing about Liao Liang’s secret crush on him.
Years later, they returned to China to find jobs and coincidentally met Liao Liang again. However, Lu Xiaochen found that this former university classmate was pursuing him in an almost coercive manner. Shocked, he immediately chose to distance himself, even withdrawing his job application to Liao Liang’s company.
However, subsequent events quickly spiraled out of Liao Liang’s control. Liao Liang plotted to prevent him from finding a job in the industry and simultaneously contacted the police station to detain Bo Chao.
An enraged Lu Xiaochen went to Liao Liang to reason with him. An argument ensued, and in an emotional state, Liao Liang kidnapped and imprisoned him, keeping him in his private villa.
At the same time, under the conscious approach and inducement of the Snow Mountain Goddess Shakti, Liao Liang decided to go all out, kill Bo Chao, and eliminate future trouble. This was strikingly similar to Shakti’s assassination attempt on Phoenix Wisdom King years ago. The only difference was that Shakti had failed then, resulting in her divinity being stripped and her falling into the Six Realms of Reincarnation, while Liao Liang, relying on his wealth and power, easily succeeded, hiding Bo Chao’s body in the concrete wall of an abandoned warehouse.
But the subsequent developments rapidly spun out of Liao Liang’s control. After Lu Xiaochen learned of Bo Chao’s murder, he attempted to avenge him by assassinating Liao Liang but quickly failed due to his complete lack of experience.
Under the dual physiological and psychological blow, he collapsed. In despair, he took a very extreme action—taking advantage of a day when security was lax, he escaped from Liao Liang’s villa and committed suicide in the warehouse where Bo Chao had been murdered. Perhaps he just wanted to die with his lover, but the coincidence of the location indeed greatly helped Zhou Hui quickly find that warehouse later and bring their grievances to light—that’s a story for another time.
After Lu Xiaochen’s suicide, Liao Liang was heartbroken. He preserved the body of his loved one and sought help from the “mirror demoness” whom he believed to be omnipotent.
Shakti then helped him lure many bar boys home, drawing out their Yang energy before killing and burying them, using the Yang energy to maintain the last bit of vitality in Lu Xiaochen’s remains. However, there was an accident when drawing Yang energy that day, causing a young man from the bar to turn into a jumping corpse, which attracted the attention of the National Security Special Bureau.
Everything that followed was chaotic and uncontrollable. After Shakti obtained the Phoenix’s soul, she certainly did not use it to revive Lu Xiaochen as she had deceived Liao Liang into believing.
Instead, she prepared to use the soul in conjunction with the Thousand Degrees Mirror Realm to deal with Zhou Hui. Liao Liang almost went mad over this, and Shakti, impatient, threw him into the underground passage. As a result, once the Sea of Death Qi emerged, Liao Liang had no way out from beneath the passage.
“—In short, it was a tragedy caused by insane and twisted love,” Zhou Hui said, flipping through an art book, leaning lazily on the sofa: “Separation from loved ones, meeting with hated ones, unfulfilled desires—life’s three great sufferings, impossible to comprehend.”
Chu He leaned in his arm. After a long moment, he softly said: “This isn’t love… Even if there’s love, Liao Liang only loved himself. Or rather, he only loved the imagined self, unfulfilled and unregretting in his deep affection…”
Zhou Hui chuckled, saying lightly: “My dear, without love, where would possessiveness come from? Your logic doesn’t hold.”
Chu He did not argue with him. After a moment of silence, he changed the subject: “—Then what about Assistant Director Yu and the others? How did they escape later?”
Assistant Director Yu survived because Situ, in a moment of crisis, suddenly transformed into a Hou, blocking the King of Three Worlds’ fatal blow. A Hou is a top-tier demonic beast that a Zombie cultivates into a drought demon, and then cultivates further into a Hou. Once a Hou-transformed Zombie appears, it can scorch thousands of miles of land and even possess the strength to fight a dragon. Although named a beast, it actually belongs to the Path of Hell.
After the golden-furred Hou appeared, it shed its skin and wrapped Yu Jingzhong and a few subordinates before the Sea of Death Qi engulfed the stone chamber, thus gaining precious twenty minutes.
Before the Hou’s skin was completely corroded by the Sea of Death Qi, Yu Jingzhong and his men finally found a sewer exit and escaped from the Sea of Death Qi.
However, the Hou’s skin, containing hundreds of years of magical power, completely decayed into ash. The golden-furred Hou, having lost its skin, was downgraded to a drought demon, which is why he appeared in a zombie state rather than a demonic beast state when he later attacked the Snow Mountain Goddess.
If Situ Yingzhi wants to cultivate back from a drought demon to the Hou’s peak state, luck, opportunity, and a long time are all indispensable. He is the leader of Team Three.
After this great disaster, Team Three was severely weakened. Coupled with the complete annihilation of Team Five during the National Security turmoil, and Team Four being as good as non-existent—the human resources of the six National Security teams finally reached a new historical low.
Yu Jingzhong issued a conscription order to Chief Wu of Team Two, who was stationed in the Northeast. At the same time, he probed several times, wanting Zhou Hui to release Chu He to rebuild Team Four, but Zhou Hui did not relent. He continued his routine, spending a lot of time at home with Chu He, even though the latter was mostly drowsy, and his extremely fatigued and weak body forced him into silence and submission. But Zhou Hui didn’t care.
He held Chu He, leaning against the sofa in the living room. Sometimes he would read to him, in the golden autumn sunlight, about Prince Calaf meeting the proud and cold Princess Turandot for the first time, falling passionately in love with her, calling her name three times from below the city walls, and declaring his desire to marry her.
Zhou Hui’s voice was deep, rich, and magnetic, like pebbles tossed into sunlight, creating ripples of captivating sound. This apartment, hidden in the bustling metropolis, was like a small isolated island in a chaotic world, holding onto its current fragile and fleeting tranquility in the face of the approaching thunder and storms from afar.
