Yan Jianlan chattered on for a while. Seeing Sheng Jiao just agreeing with everything, seeming perfunctory, if this were before he’d definitely throw a tantrum. But this time he inexplicably panicked, turning to look at him fearfully: “You… you don’t like what I’m saying?”
Sheng Jiao was wiping water from his black hair. Hearing this, he paused: “No.”
Yan Jianlan lowered his lashes, not knowing whether he believed it, only murmuring: “Really?”
Sheng Jiao didn’t know how to pull Yan Jianlan out of this anxious, insecure state. Face grim, he helped Yan Jianlan remove his soaked outer robe, half-carrying, half-hugging him, forcibly pressing him onto the warm bed.
Yan Jianlan grabbed him, stammering: “Are… are we dual cultivating?”
Sheng Jiao’s frown deepened.
Yan Jianlan was extremely sensitive to Sheng Jiao’s emotions. One look at his expression and he realized he’d said something wrong. He quickly pulled the quilt to cover half his face, only revealing a pair of eyes looking at him with uneasy restlessness, filled with timidity and panic that shouldn’t belong to Yan Jianlan.
This shouldn’t be.
Though Yan Jianlan’s childhood memories were modified by spirit-level techniques, his nature should never have changed. He should be lively and bright, flamboyant as fire—not cautious and meticulous like now, fearful of saying the wrong thing and being disliked.
Especially when the person before him was Sheng Jiao.
Sheng Jiao touched Yan Jianlan’s forehead. Yan Jianlan quickly raised his head to nuzzle into his palm, incredibly docile, vaguely trying to please.
Over the following days, Sheng Jiao became increasingly certain that Yan Jianlan’s state was completely different from his previous listlessness.
These past few days on Yan Family Mountain, Yan Jianlan was no longer wilted, only wanting to sleep. He seemed to have endless energy again, circling around Sheng Jiao all day like a little tail, inseparable.
In previous years, it was always Sheng Jiao chasing after him, constantly vigilant against the little swindler to prevent him from running off without a trace someday. This time it was completely reversed.
Sheng Jiao found it novel at first, but quickly sensed something wrong.
Yan Jianlan’s internal injuries hadn’t fully recovered, yet when Sheng Jiao wasn’t paying attention, he forcibly activated Spring Rain, pulling out all the sword intent accumulated in Sheng Jiao’s body, roots and all.
By the time Sheng Jiao reacted, blood continuously trickled from the corner of his lips. He seemed to want to cover his mouth to block the blood, but the gruesome red overflowed between his fingers, shocking to behold.
Since regaining his seven emotions and six desires, this was the first time Sheng Jiao felt what fury was.
He gripped Yan Jianlan’s arm tightly, face darkening to the extreme: “You!”
Yan Jianlan’s whole body trembled yet he still shook his head, muffled words coming through his fingers: “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Sheng Jiao thought he was saying his injury wasn’t serious. After a moment he realized he was actually referring to how Sheng Jiao wouldn’t suffer anymore now that the Spring Rain sword intent in his body was removed.
Sheng Jiao nearly lost control of the fury burning his head dizzy.
Yan Jianlan was pressed onto the bed by the grim-faced Sheng Jiao, forced to rest and heal for several days, unable to go anywhere.
But Sheng Jiao sometimes had to go out to repair buildings. Every time he left for less than a quarter hour, Yan Jianlan, who had been sleeping soundly, would come running out barefoot with disheveled hair, searching for him all over the mountain.
Sheng Jiao instructed countless times for him to sleep obediently, that he wasn’t leaving. Yan Jianlan would verbally agree sweetly, but next time still come running out to find him as if his soul had scattered.
“Don’t you want me anymore?” Yan Jianlan frowned tightly, asking with inexplicable anxiety. “Am I… am I useless to you now?”
Sheng Jiao could only say over and over: “I want you. You’re useful.”
Each time he agreed, Yan Jianlan seemed to receive a reassurance pill. His happy, stable emotions could last most of the day.
But prolonged anxiety and insecurity was almost a form of torment for someone with Yan Jianlan’s unstable state of mind. Until early October, when heavy snow fell on Yan Family Mountain.
After coaxing Yan Jianlan to sleep and confirming he wouldn’t wake for a while, Sheng Jiao took the rhinoceros horn lamp and silently left the carriage mustard seed.
But he didn’t dare go too far, only waiting outside the carriage mustard seed.
The rhinoceros horn lamp glowed faintly, then Lezheng Jiu’s figure emerged from it, appearing in the heavy snow as a streak of light.
Upon seeing Sheng Jiao, Lezheng Jiu instinctively frowned and said coldly: “…Aren’t you being overly paranoid? When I saw him a while ago, he was fine. How has it deteriorated so quickly that you’re forced to use the ‘Falling Dream’ array? Did you torture him in private?”
Sheng Jiao treated Lezheng Jiu’s sarcastic remarks as passing wind, saying coldly: “He can’t get out on his own.”
Lezheng Jiu frowned: “That still doesn’t warrant using ‘Falling Dream,’ does it? Do you even know what ‘Falling Dream’ is? Oh right, I remember Sect Master Sheng never even passed his array class at the academy. Heh.”
Sheng Jiao: “…”
Sheng Jiao said indifferently: “If this continues, something will happen to him.”
“Stop cursing him! Jianlan is carefree and joking around all day—how could things deteriorate to the point of something happening?” Lezheng Jiu’s expression was poor. “‘Falling Dream’ is an illusion array that recreates a person’s most fearful moments in life. If he originally had no problems, but your ‘Falling Dream’ messes him up so he truly can never escape, how will you compensate me?”
Sheng Jiao’s frown deepened. He felt Lezheng Jiu hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation.
If Yan Jianlan continued in this prolonged state of anxiety and unstable emotions, he would ultimately destroy himself.
As the two were still arguing, Winter Snow suddenly transformed into human form and said urgently: “Master!”
Sheng Jiao’s pupils trembled. Before Winter Snow could finish, he rushed back into the carriage mustard seed in an instant.
Lifting the bead curtain of the inner chamber, his gaze swept to the bed. Sheng Jiao froze abruptly.
Yan Jianlan had awakened at some point. Black hair draped over his shoulders, pupils scattered and empty as he sat amid the messy brocade quilt. Spring Rain Sword, forcibly commanded to transform into a small dagger, was loosely gripped in his hand, its sharp tip pointed directly at his inner palace.
Sheng Jiao rushed forward at the fastest speed of his life, gripping Yan Jianlan’s hand tightly and shouting: “Yan Ling!”
Yan Jianlan’s wrist trembled. As if waking from a dream, he looked up at Sheng Jiao in confusion, seemingly unaware he was holding Spring Rain Sword, asking bewildered: “You… how did you come back?”
These words…
As if he’d already concluded Sheng Jiao had abandoned him and would never return.
Sheng Jiao’s face was unprecedentedly grim. He snatched Spring Rain Sword and threw it violently out of the carriage mustard seed, saying sternly: “Yan Ling, do you know what you’re doing?!”
Only after Sheng Jiao seized the sword did Yan Jianlan confusedly realize his actions just now.
He stood dazed for a long time, body petrified. After a long while, he finally reacted, stumbling forward, trembling hands clutching Sheng Jiao’s shoulders, using all his strength to bite hard into Sheng Jiao’s neck, as if harboring deep resentment.
Just once, and there was blood.
Sheng Jiao held him tightly with both hands, not even frowning, as if feeling his pain empathetically. His rock-solid hands trembled slightly.
“I thought you’d never come back.” After biting, Yan Jianlan was jolted awake by the bloody taste between his lips and teeth. As if losing all strength, he slowly lowered his hands, forehead against Sheng Jiao’s shoulder, murmuring: “…I don’t know how to keep living. Sheng Jiao, I’m scared.”
Sheng Jiao’s heart curled into a ball, the pain making him clench his jaw, wishing he could press Yan Jianlan’s thin body into his embrace.
“Sheng Jiao, please save me.” All the pain and despair accumulated in Yan Jianlan’s body erupted completely, yet his body seemed exhausted to the extreme—even his outbreak wasn’t hysterical madness.
He just silently shed tears, pleading with near-total despair: “Kill me, please.”
Sheng Jiao stroked the back of his head, voice unstable for the first time, murmuring: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
Yan Jianlan at this moment didn’t know if he was lucid or deliriously ill, as if unable to hear even Sheng Jiao’s voice.
Twelve years of accumulated countless despairs erupting all at once finally drove him completely mad.
“Sheng Jiao, I don’t want to live like this… I want to leave.” Yan Jianlan buried his face in Sheng Jiao’s blood-covered neck hollow, voice nearly sobbing as he pleaded: “I can’t hold on anymore.”
Sheng Jiao opened his lips as if to say something, but his throat seemed blocked—unable to utter a single word.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” After speaking, Yan Jianlan regretted it again. Black hair disheveled at the nape of his neck, scattering down with his shaking head. His madness was silent like spring rain. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die. I want to live…”
But he simply didn’t know how to live normally.
All the “goals” he could find couldn’t support him to live well as before.
He wanted to live for Sheng Jiao, but this “goal” only intensified his panic and insecurity, making him suffer more.
Yan Jianlan contradicted himself as he spoke, as if unable to bear his own emotional volatility any longer. All his strength seemed drained, even his voice becoming a low, hoarse whisper.
“…I’m sorry, I probably can’t get out anymore.”
An invisible cage imprisoned him tightly. Even using all his strength to break free couldn’t gain him freedom.
Yu Tuishan…
Perhaps was the same, which was why he chose such an extreme final path.
Yan Jianlan hadn’t understood Yu Tuishan before, but now finally comprehended completely—pain and loss wouldn’t turn to ash and dissipate with passing time.
He truly couldn’t escape.
Outside the carriage mustard seed, Lezheng Jiu stared dazedly at Yan Jianlan, nearly driven mad, suddenly understanding why Sheng Jiao was so insistent on using ‘Falling Dream.’
What Yan Jianlan needed now wasn’t consolation and companionship, but the courage to face past events.
And that kind of courage, no one could give him.
Except Sheng Jiao.
**
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
wannaberecluse On SRTT Chapter 50.1