Chapter Index

    The sun dawned, and a light snow fell.

    Light streamed in through the half-open window, slanting across the small, cloud-patterned, lacquered flower table.

    A cinnabar-red sleeve draped over the edge of the low table. A fair, beautiful hand rested on the tabletop, its fingertips glowing warm red in the light. On the wrist bone were many conspicuous, amorous fingerprints, as if last night someone had firmly grasped both wrists, imprisoning them on the bed, forcing them to bear all the soul-deep possession without escape.

    Chou Bodeng lay listlessly on the table, not wanting to move a single finger.

    The culprit knelt upright behind him, holding a wooden comb, combing his long hair for him.

    Chou Bodeng had originally wanted him to stay in the shamanistic Nuo mask, but Shi Wuluo himself chose the Ruomu Spirit Puppet as a vessel. A puppet, a man-ghost, inherently had the meaning of providing a dwelling for a ghost. Moreover, the Ruomu Spirit Puppet was carved and imbued with spirit by him personally, so their auras were similar. After possessing it, the illusory feeling of Shi Wuluo having fallen into a vicious ghost almost completely faded.

    It was unclear whether it was the influence of the formation patterns he himself had carved into the Ruomu Spirit Puppet, or a remnant of memory, but Shi Wuluo still had the habit of combing and styling Chou Bodeng’s hair after waking up in the morning.

    The teeth of the comb glided over his scalp, the pressure the same as before.

    Gentle, with a soft, rustling sound.

    It made one drowsy.

    His fingertips played with the large and small wolf-hair brushes hanging on the brush rack, watching them sway left and right in the light. The shadows of the brushes fell on his wrist, overlapping with the fingerprints. Chou Bodeng glanced at the marks that still hadn’t faded and casually complained, “They’ve all been pinched red by you…”

    As soon as the words left his mouth, they felt exceptionally familiar.

    …It’s red because you pinched it.

    …Does it hurt?

    It was the night of their reunion in Fu City. The leaves of the ancient Fu tree were like snow, and the light and shadows swayed in the gentle breeze. On a lower branch stood three idiots. A Luo was disguised as a young Oracle Master, and he was still the self-deceiving Little Martial Ancestor of Taiyi. He had held up his “pinched red” wrist and jokingly demanded compensation.

    Remembering this, and just as Shi Wuluo was inserting a jade hairpin horizontally into his topknot, Chou Bodeng felt a spark of interest.

    He turned around, held up his wrist to Shi Wuluo’s eyes, and teased him with a smile, “Why don’t you ask me if it hurts anymore?”

    As he spoke, Chou Bodeng couldn’t help but let out a half-smiling, half-scoffing hum.

    When they reunited in Fu City, just combing his hair and pressing his hand made him ask if it hurt. How come he didn’t seem to be any gentler in bed?… It seems he’s only careful in useless ways.

    Shi Wuluo put down the comb.

    His pitch-black eyes reflected the red marks on the snowy skin.

    The youth’s beautiful wrist was held up in mid-air. His overly fair skin was like fine snow reflecting the light of the sky; even the slightest red would be conspicuous, let alone distinct fingerprints. The fingerprints circled the wrist bone, marking his possession, and faintly extended into the depths of his elbow along the sliding sleeve.

    Chou Bodeng shook his wrist. Seeing that he didn’t respond, he didn’t feel disappointed.

    It was fine if he couldn’t remember now; he would eventually. Even if he never remembered, it didn’t matter. He could teach him all over again from the beginning.

    But…

    “How did you get even stupider?” Chou Bodeng glanced sideways at the silent Shi Wuluo and couldn’t help but say.

    He was about to lower his hand when his wrist was suddenly caught.

    The young man held his right hand, lowered his head, and a kiss as light and cold as the first snow fell on his wrist, on those marks of possession, deepening them into an even more revealing brand. The cold tips of his teeth, following the instinct of a vicious ghost, lingered near the blood vessels, yet he always restrained himself. The craving for flesh and blood transformed into another kind of craving, traveling up along the wrist bone.

    A large sleeve fell, and his wrist was pulled up high.

    Chou Bodeng let out a muffled grunt and was forced to lean back, bumping into the bronze mirror on the table.

    The newly opened, cloud-patterned flower mirror was as bright as a person’s reflection. Its polished surface reflected the youth’s face, as beautiful as an ancient painting. His collar, which was only half-closed to begin with, fell open, and the new red marks on his delicate collarbones were added before the old ones had faded. Chou Bodeng tilted his head, letting the dangerous vicious ghost bury its head in his neck. It wasn’t until the sinister and handsome vicious ghost straightened up slightly and held his shoulder that Chou Bodeng pushed him away.

    Chou Bodeng supported himself on the low table with one hand and placed his other index finger on Shi Wuluo’s lips.

    No kissing allowed.

    Shi Wuluo knelt on the fine mat in front of the low table, not knowing why this person had suddenly rejected him… Clearly, he was his. The unease and unwillingness of being rejected caused the ruthless aura on Shi Wuluo to suddenly become violent and unstable. The room flickered between light and dark, and the falling snow outside froze in place.

    Chou Bodeng didn’t move his finger.

    He didn’t use any force, just pressed lightly.

    However, the vicious ghost was stopped by this finger, whose force was so light it could be ignored.

    But…

    As expected, Chou Bodeng saw Shi Wuluo’s lips press into a straight line. He was silent.

    He was sulking.

    “I won’t settle the other accounts with you for now,” Chou Bodeng tilted his head to suppress a smile. “But you’re not allowed to delay today’s.”

    Shi Wuluo looked at him quietly and raised his hand to gently hold his wrist.

    A section of his blood-red sleeve fell, revealing Shi Wuluo’s wrist with the Kui Dragon Bracelet. The two dark gold ancient bracelets, one above the other, were reunited in the light of day.

    They were too close.

    So close that Chou Bodeng could see his own reflection in Shi Wuluo’s eyes, so clearly that for a moment he forgot that Shi Wuluo had already fallen into a demon.

    A long time ago, when he set up the altar in the Southern Borderlands to help the Heavenly Dao shape its form, he always thought that the Heavenly Dao’s eyes should be silver-gray, like snow, like a lake, so still that they could reflect the entire world. So after their reunion, facing those eyes that could clearly reflect everything, he had never been able to detect a single trace of having fallen into a demon.

    But in fact, whether silver-gray or pitch-black, as long as they were looking at him, A Luo’s eyes could always clearly reflect everything.

    —He was his everything.

    “Say it.”

    Chou Bodeng closed his eyes, then lowered his head and pressed it against Shi Wuluo’s forehead.

    “Say… I love you.”

    “Say… I love you.”

    The young man’s voice was very cold and clear, as if still water was winding its way under primeval profound ice.

    “Wrong,” Chou Bodeng couldn’t help but purse his lips and laugh. As he laughed, he lightly cursed, “Stupid.”

    Time suddenly reversed.

    Plum City in the West Continent became a primeval glacier, the clear day after snow became a vast snowy plain, and the cloud-shrouded Heavenly Lake Mountain became the Incomplete Mountain connecting the upper and lower realms… The Divine Lord in the clouds taught the newborn Heavenly Dao, saying, “You are the Heavenly Dao.” So the Heavenly Dao followed, saying, “You are the Heavenly Dao.” The Divine Lord laughed and cursed, “Stupid.”

    The wind blew through the small window.

    The youth’s dark silk hair fell onto the man’s shoulder, hair intertwining with hair, forehead against forehead, nose against nose.

    They were extremely close, yet separated by a thin line.

    Slender, fair fingers were placed between their lips.

    “…I love you.”

    Chou Bodeng said slowly.

    I love you, love you like still snow, like an ice lake, like something eternal.

    I love you, love you like a long night, like silence, like a silent fall.

    “I love you.”

    “That’s right this time.”

    Chou Bodeng said softly.

    He moved his finger away and leaned in close.

    A cloud-patterned flower bronze mirror simultaneously reflected two people, a decadent youth and a slender young man. In the mirror was a mottled, yellowed painting; outside the mirror was a bright, splendid light.

    A single kiss connected the primeval era and the present.

    The falling snow outside the window was light and graceful.

    The jade hairpin, having bumped against the bronze mirror, was now crooked, and the topknot was about to come loose. Chou Bodeng raised his hand to fix it. Suddenly, he froze. As his fingers touched the hairpin, Shi Wuluo said in a low voice:

    “I love you.”

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