Liao Tingyan belatedly realized she had just been confessed to.
Talking about "you're like this, and so am I"—it should have been the other way around. What he meant was "because I'm like this, so you're like this too," right? Such an overflowing confidence from this big shot.
Only, when other people's boyfriends sweet-talk, they're always more affectionate. Not him—he said it as casually as if it were an offhand remark, his attitude far from proper.
And after saying it, without waiting for her reaction, he let go of her hand and went straight to rummage through the pile of things she had brought out.
My only male friend? You're not even giving me a chance to respond?—Though she hadn't figured out what to say yet, he couldn't just deny her the opportunity to speak, could he?
Sima Jiao tapped on the live-streaming mirror, activating this spiritual artifact that hadn't been opened in over ten years. The product quality was still excellent—it booted up quickly and displayed an image.
A fairyland of green mountains and clear waters, where a group of albino animals were drinking by an azure lake. Liao Tingyan instantly became interested and leaned in to look.
Sima Jiao handed her the mirror. "I made this for you before. You called it a 'live-streaming mirror.'"
Liao Tingyan thought to herself, my past life seemed quite luxurious—I even had live streams. She watched for a while, then unconsciously swiped, and the scene changed abruptly. The image transformed into a scorched wasteland, where blackened soil was studded with dark poles, each one haphazardly planted in the ground and adorned with one or two human heads.
The heads, weathered by wind, rain, and sun, exuded an eerie malevolence. The sudden appearance of this massive graveyard was such a stark contrast to the previous fairyland scene that Liao Tingyan nearly threw the mirror away.
Sima Jiao reached over and lightly swiped again, calmly changing the scene as he remarked casually, "Many of the places I chose back then are now ruined. Nothing worth seeing. I’ll switch to a few different ones next time."
The next image showed the ruins of a dilapidated pavilion, overgrown with weeds. Only fragments of intricate murals and the faintly discernible grand scale hinted at its former magnificence.
Sima Jiao glanced at it. "Oh, seems like a place from the Gengchen Immortal Mansion. It’s fallen into such disrepair."
Liao Tingyan recalled the rumors she had heard in the past—that Sima Jiao, the Demon Lord, was once the revered ancestor of the World of Cultivation's foremost immortal sect, Cizang Daojun.
It was said he had fallen into demonic cultivation, causing a drastic change in his temperament. He slaughtered many cultivators of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion and destroyed its underground spiritual veins, turning what was once a lush, spiritual paradise into a barren, scorched wasteland.
Rumors claimed that within a hundred-mile radius of the former center of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion, no one dared to set foot anymore. Meanwhile, the once-mighty sect collapsed rapidly, enriching the rest of the cultivation world.
In recent years, it was said that the World of Cultivation had been in a state of collective celebration, with every sect benefiting to some degree. Several capable cultivation sects had allegedly plundered countless treasures and resources from the ruins of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion, becoming overnight tycoons. The fall of one immortal mansion had brought prosperity to countless others.
The incident was so significant that even in the Demon Realm, far removed from the World of Cultivation, the news spread far and wide. Back when Liao Tingyan worked at the Rouge Terrace, she had heard plenty of gossip about it—people speculated endlessly, with all sorts of wild theories circulating.Rumors said the Gengchen Immortal Mansion was piled high with corpses, carrion birds circling overhead for years like dark clouds, making it more like the Demon Realm than the Demon Realm itself. They said the great cities of Gengchen Immortal Mansion had been bombed to ruins, countless magnificent palaces reduced to ashes.
At first, Liao Tingyan thought these gossipy descriptions were exaggerated. Now it seemed... they weren't exaggerated at all. Seeing just a few scattered scenes was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Every time these days she started to think of Sima Jiao as a harmless kitten through their daily interactions, he would suddenly reveal his ferocious side, transforming into a celestial-eyed divine tiger, his eyes crackling like laser cannons.
Liao Tingyan imagined Sima Jiao bombing palaces like a bomber plane and stole a glance at him beside her.
Sima Jiao didn’t seem to notice her furtive look. Unhurried, he casually swiped his fingers across the mirror a few more times. Liao Tingyan watched as scenes of ruins flashed by, listening to the architect of all this destruction comment indifferently from behind:
"Seems the Gengchen Immortal Mansion has indeed declined over the years. Even this outer city has fallen into such desolation... Hmm, they’ve hung the Red Water Abyss’s banner here. Not bad for development."
"This used to be a music and dance house you often visited, with different performers every day. Now it seems they’ve changed businesses—turned it into an inn... Let me see, this is White Emperor Mountain’s insignia."
"This one’s still here."
The scene stopped on a bustling kitchen.
The bomber in Liao Tingyan’s mind paused for a moment. Hugging the live-viewing mirror, she stared for a while, silently swallowing her drool.
The kitchen’s lively atmosphere was down-to-earth and mouthwatering. Steamed meat, freshly taken from the steamer, was mixed with thick, rich sauce. Some kind of roasted meat sizzled as it was torn into strips and sprinkled with unknown seasoning powder. A server nearby sniffed the aroma and gulped hard. There was also a clear sweet soup dotted with red, soft cakes, and countless other dishes—just looking at them made her stomach growl.
Liao Tingyan: "..." The Demon Realm’s cuisine really couldn’t compare to the World of Cultivation.
Just as she was marveling, her attention was drawn back to Sima Jiao beside her. He seemed utterly uninterested in the lively kitchen and delicious food, instead fishing out the numbered wooden figurines 1, 2, and 3 from the pile of miscellaneous items.
He tapped the wooden figures’ foreheads, and the three little ones grew upon landing, with round arms, legs, and big round heads. One of them, huffing and puffing, picked up a small back-hammer and began circling Liao Tingyan’s feet. Another plopped down beside Sima Jiao’s feet, tilting its head up to stare at the two of them with a mocking emoticon face.
The third, a smiling figurine, looked around and found a plate of unpeeled sunflower seeds in front of Liao Tingyan, then shoved them toward the mocking one. Immediately, the mocking figurine started peeling the seeds.
The smiling figurine went to tidy up the messy pile Liao Tingyan had rummaged through earlier. When something rolled near Sima Jiao’s feet, it tugged at his robe, picked up the white jade medicine bottle, and put it back in place.
Sima Jiao seemed to find the mocking figurine peeling seeds at his feet a bit in the way. He nudged it lightly with his toe, as if saying, "Go peel somewhere else."
Liao Tingyan pointed at the three figurines, making a guess: "Did I make these...?"Sima Jiao pointed at two of them, "You made these." Then he gestured to the one by his feet, "I made this one."
Oh, so we used to create people together.
Looking at this scene, Liao Tingyan inexplicably felt like a scumbag who had abandoned his wife all these years.
"Can I recover my past memories?" Liao Tingyan hesitated before asking. According to the usual amnesia tropes, memories always come back—sometimes after hitting one's head, sometimes after a near-death experience. Sooner or later, they had to return, or the plot wouldn’t be satisfyingly angsty.
Sima Jiao paused his rummaging. "Whether you remember or not doesn’t matter. It wasn’t a very long time, and there’s nothing too important you need to recall."
Alright, if you say so. Liao Tingyan relaxed a little. If Sima Jiao had high expectations for her memory recovery, the pressure would’ve been overwhelming.
Modern office workers often couldn’t handle others’ expectations—it was exhausting. It was better to just go with the flow.
Liao Tingyan felt she couldn’t just pretend nothing happened because she didn’t remember. She had to take responsibility, so she tentatively asked, "How did we used to get along?" Just for reference.
Sima Jiao hummed. "Like this."
Liao Tingyan: "Like this?"
Sima Jiao: "Like this."
Though her expression remained serious, Liao Tingyan’s mind was already conjuring less-than-proper thoughts. She cleared her throat. "Then let me ask—did we ever… you know?"
Already knowing what she meant, Sima Jiao lazily sprawled onto the nearby couch and deliberately drawled, "Know what?"
Liao Tingyan: "You know… premarital relations?"
Sima Jiao leaned back on the couch and blinked. "We did."
Liao Tingyan: "Hiss—" No, her brain was already supplying images.
Sima Jiao: "A lot of times."
Liao Tingyan: "Hiss—" The images in her mind were spiraling into territory that required censoring.
Sima Jiao: "Soul Communion and Dual Cultivation, together."
Liao Tingyan: "Hiss—" The images were now beyond imagination and teetering on collapse.
Sima Jiao: "Now that you’re back, we should resume how things were." He flopped onto the couch, his inky hair spilling like water over the pillow, striking a pose that screamed, You know what to do—come at me like before.
Liao Tingyan inhaled sharply: "Hiss—" The images in her head had turned into a blocked-out exclamation mark.
Sima Jiao couldn’t hold back anymore. He turned his face slightly and burst into laughter, his whole body shaking with mirth, his chest heaving. He lay there in complete disarray, sleeves and robes pooling on the floor, one leg propped on the couch, the other foot planted on the ground, fingers curled against his forehead.
That neck, those collarbones, that profile, that slender figure—it all inexplicably made her want to pounce on him and roll around together.
"Come on," Sima Jiao said after laughing his fill, gazing at her. "It’s a good chance to consolidate your Void Refining Stage cultivation."
Liao Tingyan: "Dual Cultivation?"
Sima Jiao only smiled, watching her.
Liao Tingyan: "Hold on a second."
She rummaged through her spatial storage, searching for something like alcohol to bolster her courage. After digging around, she finally pulled out a jar from a corner, peeled off the red seal, and scooped out a spoonful to taste. It was spicy and awful—definitely alcohol. She took two more spoonfuls, noticing Sima Jiao watching her with a strange expression. She tentatively asked, "Want some?"Sima Jiao glanced at her wine jar and said with a strange tone, "No, I don't need... virility enhancement." He burst into laughter right after, as if he couldn't hold it in any longer.
Liao Tingyan suddenly remembered something and rummaged through the bottom of the jar. She froze when she saw what she found.
Wait, why had she stocked up on virility-enhancing wine in the past? Wasn't this stuff meant for men? Her gaze involuntarily drifted toward a certain part of Sima Jiao's anatomy.
A mental storm raged—Do cultivators also suffer from such hidden ailments? Oh no, have I stumbled upon some earth-shattering secret?
Sima Jiao gradually stopped laughing, his expression blank as he stared back at her.
Liao Tingyan: "I think this must be a misunderstanding!"
And it really was a misunderstanding. She used to stockpile all sorts of things, and this jar of wine had been a freebie from a shopkeeper after she bought a large batch of fruit wines. Eventually, she finished all the sweet and tangy fruit wines, leaving only this one jar behind. After realizing what it was, she had tossed it into a corner, figuring she’d never have any use for it.
But now, who cared if it was a misunderstanding? Couples were bound to have misunderstandings.
Sima Jiao sat up, making a move to stand.
Most people, faced with such a terrifying sight, would instinctively back away or flee. But not Liao Tingyan. Shedding her usual laziness, she swiftly stepped forward, pressing Sima Jiao back down. "Calm down, don’t act rashly!" In a stroke of quick thinking, she slapped a Calming Talisman onto his forehead.
As she did this, Liao Tingyan felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she had done this before.
Sima Jiao sneered and tore the talisman off his forehead.
...
When she woke up, Liao Tingyan saw the shadows of bamboo and a branch of red maple leaves outside the window.
Were there bamboo and maple trees outside the Forbidden Palace in Winter City? She didn’t think so—it should have been a sea of white.
Liao Tingyan jolted upright in bed, startled. She wondered if exhaustion had made her hallucinate, but upon closer inspection, she realized this elegant room was definitely not the Forbidden Palace of Winter City.
She was wearing a thin silk robe, light as air, clinging to her skin like flowing water. Stepping onto the floor, she walked to the intricately carved wooden lattice window and looked outside—green bamboo, red maple, blue skies with white clouds, misty waters, and distant emerald mountains. Below her feet lay a clear, small lake.
Where the hell was this? She pulled out a mirror to check her face.
It was still her face, except for a bite mark on her neck.
Leaning against the wooden railing to look outside, she suddenly felt a hand grab her ankle, yanking her forward into the water.
A black-haired, black-clothed, pale-faced water ghost surfaced. "Finally awake."
Liao Tingyan wiped the water from her face and scrambled toward the shore, only to be grabbed around the waist and flung back into the water.
"Stay in a little longer," the water ghost said.
Liao Tingyan studied him. "Cats aren’t supposed to like baths or water."
Sima Jiao: "What do you mean?"
Liao Tingyan quickly changed the subject. "Where is this?"
Sima Jiao: "The villa with the big kitchen from the live-streaming mirror."
Liao Tingyan: "...The World of Cultivation?"
Sima Jiao: "Yes."
Liao Tingyan: "Tsk—"
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