"Alright, I must tell you, this child wasn’t actually born by me." Liao Tingyan tried to reason calmly with the sixteen-year-old Emperor.
The Emperor sat across from her and responded with a cold smirk, "Stop lying. This child’s face resembles mine, but his eyes are exactly like yours. What’s the use of denying it? Does denying it make it nonexistent?"
Liao Tingyan: Even if I don’t deny it, it still doesn’t exist!
Black Snake Sisi sat between the couple, resting his head on the table and swinging his legs, looking like a confused little boy caught in the middle of his parents’ divorce, unsure of what the future held.
Liao Tingyan also fell into confusion. She studied Black Snake’s face carefully, thinking, Do his eyes really look like mine? I don’t see it. Back when she returned home for the New Year, relatives would often say some cousin looked like her in some way, but she never saw the resemblance. Now, she began to doubt her own eyesight.
Could it be that everyone else sees it except me? She thought of all the people in the Demon Realm who had never doubted her and Black Snake’s mother-son relationship over the years.
Liao Tingyan: "He really was created by you alone." She had fed him too much blood, turning him into a mutated snake, and somehow, he ended up taking human form.
Sima Jiao: "The more you talk, the more absurd it gets." He looked at Liao Tingyan with an expression that suggested he held the absolute truth of the world, completely disbelieving her honesty.
Right. In this world, the truth was often harder to believe.
Whether it was the sixteen-year-old Emperor or the centuries-old Ancestor Master, they were exactly the same—stubborn, self-centered, convinced they were the most formidable beings in the world while everyone else was an idiot, and only believing what they themselves decided was true. For example, once he decided he loved her, he would give her everything. Now that he decided she was a demon, no amount of explanation would sway him.
What a headache.
Might as well make do. It’s not like they could divorce anyway.jpg
"Fine, he’s mine. Your child, happy now?" Liao Tingyan gave up explaining.
Sima Jiao replied as if he had expected this all along, "I knew you couldn’t fool me." The young man looked quite pleased with himself.
Ugh, this guy was so punchable.
But as Liao Tingyan looked at her cluelessly arrogant young Daoist companion, she sneered inwardly. Alright, Ancestor, keep believing that. Wait till you regain your memories and see how you feel about this later. Can you hear the sound of your own face being slapped? Can you hear your own distant cries of "This is actually good"?
I’ll be waiting.
Sima Jiao accepted the sudden appearance of a son and, by extension, Liao Tingyan’s pet fox that had grown as fat as a pig. Occasionally, when lying beside her, he would idly stroke the fox-pig’s fur, but his favorite thing to touch was still Liao Tingyan’s waist.
A month passed in the blink of an eye, and the monthly flare-up of her spirit fire arrived right on schedule, leaving Liao Tingyan pale and immobilized in bed from the pain.
Noticing her condition, Sima Jiao ordered someone to summon a physician, but Liao Tingyan grabbed his hand. "It’s no use. They won’t be able to diagnose anything, nor can they ease the pain," she said weakly, her eyes half-lidded.
Seeing her like this, Sima Jiao couldn’t suppress his rising fury. "What’s really going on? What’s causing this?"
Liao Tingyan finally looked at him. "...I was injured in the past."
Sima Jiao’s expression darkened, his voice laced with storm-like anger. "Who? Who hurt you?!"Liao Tingyan suddenly squeezed his hand hard. "It was you."
Sima Jiao flatly denied, "Impossible." He refuted without a second thought, harboring a blind confidence that no one in this world could protect this woman before him as he would.
Liao Tingyan, aching in pain, recalled the monthly agony over the years and the shock and fury she felt when she once pulled out Sima Jiao's Divine Soul. She took a deep breath and said, "You used to be incredibly powerful. With you protecting me, no one could harm me. So the only one who could hurt me was you yourself."
"You killed me once." Liao Tingyan's tone was eerily calm and distant, unlike her usual casual speech.
"Impossible," Sima Jiao repeated.
Liao Tingyan continued, "You were dying then. You wanted me to die with you."
Sima Jiao fell silent, staring at Liao Tingyan's pale face without a word. He hesitated because, upon reflection, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't have done such a thing. In some ways, he was now a more decipherable version of his former self, so his hesitation suggested he might have indeed considered killing her.
Liao Tingyan realized she didn't even feel afraid. Of course, this was Sima Jiao. But why had he chosen to sacrifice himself to leave everything for her back then?
Sima Jiao leaned down, lifting Liao Tingyan's face. "You're not lying to me?"
"Seventeen years ago, you really did kill me once," Liao Tingyan replied.
Sima Jiao, who never believed the truth, now seemed to genuinely trust her lie. Frowning, he held her close, unsure what to say, only gently stroking her hair.
As he gazed at Liao Tingyan's face, a fleeting image flashed before his eyes—he was holding her in an emerald pool, his body burning as if on fire, while she looked at him with tear-filled eyes, shaking her head and shouting something, appearing on the verge of collapse. Compared to her usual carefree demeanor, it was as if something had shattered in her eyes.
Sima Jiao paused, pressing a hand to his stifled chest.
What was that? A memory from his past?
Liao Tingyan grabbed Sima Jiao's hand. He snapped back to reality, clasping her hand, his tone softening—perhaps the gentlest it had ever been in his life. "Does it really hurt that much?"
Liao Tingyan inhaled sharply. "It really hurts."
"I'm in so much pain, Sima Jiao. It hurts so much."
It hadn't been this painful before. During those seventeen years when Sima Jiao was absent, she would soak in a pool during those days, cursing him loudly when the pain became unbearable, thinking it wasn't so hard to endure. But now, with the culprit Sima Jiao by her side, the pain suddenly felt unbearable, making her wish he could share her agony.
She succeeded. When she weakly confessed her pain, she saw his expression and, for a moment, thought he seemed to be in just as much pain, his lips pressing together as if struggling to endure.
Then her heart softened again.
What was the point of tormenting him? This was just who Sima Jiao was. And perhaps, for hundreds of years, he had endured such pain day and night. His indifference to pain wasn't because he was unafraid, but because he had grown accustomed to it.
Liao Tingyan fell silent.
But Sima Jiao seemed even more unable to bear it. "What can I do to ease your pain?"
Liao Tingyan murmured, "...Soaking in water helps a little."Actually, it wouldn't work. She needed to soak in a cold Spiritual Pool, but there wasn't one here, and an ordinary person's body would be invaded by the cold energy near such a pool. The current Sima Jiao couldn't withstand that.
Hearing her words, Sima Jiao carried her to a spring pool behind Ziquan Palace. Holding Liao Tingyan, he stepped into the water with her, immersing himself as well. He brushed his lips against her forehead and asked, "Do you feel better now?"
Liao Tingyan leaned against his youthful embrace, sniffled, and continued lying to him, "A little better."
The spring water was clear, their robes tangling together beneath the surface. Amidst the fine, searing pain in her body, Liao Tingyan recalled many things from the past. It seemed only the stimulation of pain could bring her memories back, piece by piece.
She remembered back in Gengchen Immortal Mansion, Sima Jiao had also loved soaking in water. At first, it had been the frigid pool—so cold even she couldn't bear it. But later, without her realizing, he had started soaking in any ordinary pool.
Why? Probably because, no matter where he was soaking, he had wanted her by his side. Was it because she couldn't endure the cold pool, so he had settled for ordinary water instead?
Years later, Liao Tingyan suddenly understood the Sima Jiao who had gazed at her by the mountain stream that summer. Had his feelings then been the same as hers now?
Perhaps he had been suffering pain a hundred times worse than hers, yet he had managed to lean there without showing a trace of discomfort, smiling at her and reaching out to say, "Come here." So calm that it made her think it was just a lazy, pleasant afternoon nap—an ordinary, comfortable moment.
Back then, their pain had not been mutual.
The Sima Jiao from her memories vanished abruptly. Now, this young Sima Jiao who remembered nothing was silently wiping away the tears that had unknowingly fallen from her cheeks.
"Is it really that painful?"
His brows remained furrowed as he carefully dried her tears, then kissed her eyelids with tenderness—so full of affection for someone who was just a youth, for someone who was supposed to be a tyrant who knew nothing of gentleness.
Liao Tingyan gasped for breath and tilted her head up to find his lips.
Sima Jiao brushed aside the wet strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, cradled her head, and kissed her. Liao Tingyan wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands pressing against his back. He held her against the pool's edge, their hair drifting in the water, his hands slowly stroking her spine.
Suddenly, Liao Tingyan felt the stinging pain from the spirit fire in her body ease slightly. She pulled away from his lips, resting her head on his shoulder as she panted, "I feel better now."
"Mmm." Sima Jiao turned his head to kiss her neck, nuzzling her earlobe with his nose.
Liao Tingyan: "It seems like after kissing, it doesn't hurt as much as before."
Sima Jiao thought for a moment, then began undoing her clothes.
Liao Tingyan: "Wait."
Liao Tingyan: "I'm in pain right now. Let go."
Sima Jiao: "Let me try. Be good and don't fuss."
Liao Tingyan: "I won't try! I, Liao Tingyan, would rather die here in pain today than do this!"
...
Liao Tingyan: "Are you in pain too?"
Sima Jiao: "..."
Liao Tingyan: "Maybe we should stop? Back then... I didn’t see you in pain before. Or is it because you're too young now..."Sima Jiao pinched the back of her neck. "Shut up."
Liao Tingyan: "Pfft—hahahahaha~"
But instead of getting flustered and angry at her laughter, he watched her with a slight relaxation in his brow, a faint smile appearing on his face. He held her tightly and shifted their positions, his thumb brushing the corner of her eye. "Does it hurt less now than before?"
It seemed to really work—the spirit fire had been soothed by Sima Jiao.
Liao Tingyan suddenly felt a pang of embarrassment, remembering how she had been momentarily swayed by his beauty and lost her composure. She covered her face, then simply pressed her forehead against Sima Jiao’s shoulder. He chuckled softly in her ear, the sound warm and intimate.
They were like two strands of waterweed swaying gently in the water, silently and tenderly entwined.
"You really do love me," Liao Tingyan heard Sima Jiao murmur in her dazed state. He pressed her head against his chest, holding her close.
With her eyes closed, Liao Tingyan hugged him back and gave a soft hum of agreement.
If I didn’t love you, I’d be happy no matter where I was.
But if I didn’t love you, I’d never be this happy anywhere.
...
The ministers argued among themselves for a long while, yet not a single word came from the Emperor at the head of the hall. They all stopped simultaneously and looked up, only to realize he hadn’t been listening to them at all. Though the Emperor had never paid much attention to their words before—always acting with indifference—today, he was actually lost in thought. One hand rested near his nose, fingers lightly rubbing together, and on his face was a rare, genuine smile.
He didn’t look like the Emperor who would kill people on a whim when in a bad mood. Instead, he resembled a young man thinking of his beloved.
The ministers: "...!!!"
Sima Jiao noticed their horrified expressions and simply stood up. "Handle it yourselves. I’m going to the Summer Palace to escape the heat."
He took his heat-sensitive, water-loving Noble Consort to the Summer Palace. The ministers, who had spent a long time singing his praises before, now lamented in despair: The Emperor has been bewitched by beauty! He’s beyond saving! The kingdom is surely doomed!
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