WBICDPH Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Saying One Thing, Meaning Another

“Huh?”

Xiao Lanqi blinked in confusion.

He looked at Xiao Lancheng, then down at his own fingertips.
“I always thought love was something beautiful.”

“It does sound that way. People often use words like that to dress love up,” Xiao Lancheng said. “But A’Qi, do you really want your entire life to be tied to someone else? Do you want them to control your emotions, influence your judgment—even make you give up everything you have for them?”

He gently stroked Xiao Lanqi’s hair, guiding him patiently.
“Celestial demons are born independent. Why should we be bound by something external? The reason we’re so powerful is precisely that we don’t need those useless emotions, isn’t it?”

“….”

Xiao Lanqi lowered his eyes slightly. He nodded, then shook his head.
“But Mother said—”

“A’Qi, love blinds people.”

Xiao Lancheng cut him off gently.
“Do you know how your father died?”

“Mother said he died in battle.”

“But he didn’t have to. Love clouded his judgment and made him make the wrong choice.”

Xiao Lancheng curved his lips faintly.
“The Sovereign loves your father, and she loves you. But A’Qi, you wouldn’t want to become a burden to her, would you?”

At that, Xiao Lanqi shook his head firmly.

“That’s right. So you need to grow independent as soon as possible. You can’t keep relying on her, and you can’t let love take root. Only by being cold, strong, and independent can you become an outstanding celestial demon—not like humans, forever entangled in trivial emotions.”

“…Oh.”

For some reason, Xiao Lanqi felt a little uncomfortable inside.

But just as Xiao Lancheng said, he didn’t want to become a burden to his mother. He didn’t want her constantly worrying about him, and he didn’t want her to be bound by “love.”

The demon realm was chaotic. His mother had to go to war often. If love were truly something bad, then he didn’t want her to end up like his father—dying on the battlefield because of it.

Xiao Lanqi remembered Xiao Lancheng’s words. He kept telling himself to be cold, to be strong, to be independent. Humans were strange—everything about them, their culture, their emotions, would only bring misfortune to demons. He hated humans. He must not touch anything related to them.

Xiao Lancheng also told him he needed to grow up quickly. He couldn’t stay as close to his mother as before, because that would only make love grow stronger—and that would be bad for both of them.

So when Xiao Lanyue returned from another campaign, Xiao Lanqi ran toward her as he had countless times before—only to stop short when she opened her arms to welcome him.

Xiao Lanyue paused.
“A’Qi… no hug?”

“…No.”

Xiao Lanqi kicked at the dirt with his toe and turned his face away awkwardly.
“I’ve grown up now. I don’t need hugs anymore!”

“Who says you’re grown?” Xiao Lanyue laughed lightly.
“You’re not even as tall as my leg yet.”

“I am! I’m grown, no matter what!”

His ears flushed red with embarrassment. Like the other demon officials, he dropped to one knee and bowed.
“Welcome back, Sovereign!”

“….”

The smile on Xiao Lanyue’s lips faded.

She crouched down and held his shoulders.
“A’Qi, tell me—who taught you this?”

Xiao Lanqi’s pointed ears drooped slightly.

His brother had told him not to let their mother know about these things, or she would be upset.

He couldn’t betray his brother. So he lowered his eyes and stubbornly said,
“No one. I just saw how the other celestial demons treat you, and I did the same. Don’t you like it, Sovereign?”

“It’s not the same. A’Qi, you’re different.”

Xiao Lanyue cupped his face gently.
“You’re my child. We’re family. There’s no need for formalities between us.”

“But other demons aren’t like us. They don’t distinguish between family and outsiders. In the demon race, there’s only rank and status—no closeness, right?”

Hearing this, Xiao Lanyue’s expression darkened.

She forced a small smile.
“Let’s not talk about this. I’ve come back—aren’t you happy? Did you finish your training today? Do you want me to play with you, or tell you a story?”

“….”

Xiao Lanqi opened his mouth, then swallowed his words.

“I don’t want any of that! It’s useless. I want to keep training. I want to get stronger as fast as possible—to become a powerful celestial demon and fight!”

“…You really don’t want to?”

A trace of sorrow flickered in Xiao Lanyue’s eyes.

When Xiao Lanqi met her gaze, he felt a sudden sense of panic.

He didn’t know what to say or do. Afraid he might ask her to stay if he lingered any longer, he quickly turned and ran away.

His brother had told him that keeping him by her side had caused many elders to resent her. Those elders had once been her strongest supporters, but now they had all left.

Now she had no one to rely on. The demon realm had grown more unstable, with constant internal strife. She had no choice but to go to war again and again, returning each time exhausted and bloodstained.

And all of this… was because of him. Because of her love for him.

Xiao Lanqi didn’t want her to suffer like that. He didn’t want to be a burden. So he had to learn to refuse—to help her cast off that love.

He didn’t want to be her burden.

He wouldn’t accept her hugs. He wouldn’t listen to her stories. He wouldn’t let her sing to him anymore.

But somehow, without love, she didn’t seem happier. Instead, her sorrow deepened day by day.

Watching her, Xiao Lanqi felt miserable too. But he believed this was the only way—for her to break free from love and become invincible again, just as his brother said.

Even so, it hurt.

He longed to be with her like before. He wanted her hugs, her stories. He didn’t want to keep treating her coldly.

The longing ached deep in his bones—but he forced himself to remain a cold, detached celestial demon.

Was this pain… really caused by love?

Just as his brother said, love truly was something terrifying.

The palace of Mingzhu Heaven was no longer as lively as before. Xiao Lanqi spent his days in the training grounds, practicing over and over.

He wanted to grow up quickly. To become strong.

After some time, one day, while he was training, Xiao Lanyue came to find him.

She knelt on one knee before him, looking him over carefully. A hint of relief appeared in her eyes.
“A’Qi has grown taller.”

“Mm!” Xiao Lanqi nodded. “Did you need something, Sovereign?”

“I did. You’ve been training hard lately. How about going out with me to relax for a bit?”

At that, Xiao Lanqi’s eyes lit up.
“Outside Mingzhu Heaven? Where?”

Seeing his interest, Xiao Lanyue felt a surge of joy.
“The mortal world. How about it?”

“….”

At the words “mortal world,” Xiao Lanqi’s heart clenched.

He took a step back, frowning.
“The human world? Why go there?”

His brother had said he’d spent a long time there—that humans were greedy and selfish, even killing their own kind without hesitation.

He had also said that spending too much time with humans would make one become like them—petty over trivial emotions, ruled by feelings.

Xiao Lanqi didn’t like humans.

He hated them.

Xiao Lanyue noticed the disgust in his expression. Her eyes flickered, but she still coaxed him gently.
“There are many interesting places in this world. Let me take you to see them. Humans… are a fascinating race.”

“I don’t want to.”

Xiao Lanqi gripped his wooden knife tightly.
“I hate humans.”

“Why? You’ve never even interacted with them, have you?”

Why?

Because of their hateful ideas and emotions. Because love had made both him and his mother suffer like this. It was all because of humans.

But he couldn’t say that.

He stamped his foot and snapped,
“Celestial demons hate humans—we don’t need a reason! Just like we don’t need their ridiculous emotions! I don’t want to understand them, and I don’t want to go to their world! Only cold, selfish, solitary demons are true demons! We shouldn’t be burdened by anything!”

After he said that, Xiao Lanyue’s expression completely changed.

Her face went pale, sorrow deepening in her eyes.

Unable to bear seeing her like that, Xiao Lanqi turned away.

He started to leave, but then paused and added,
“You don’t need to call me A’Qi anymore. I’ve passed the juvenile stage. From now on, call me Xiao Lanqi, and I’ll call you Sovereign—just like the others.”

He walked away resolutely. But only he knew how much his heart ached, as if it were splitting apart.

Only he knew that, despite rejecting her, he deeply missed their time together.

He often went back to the black grassland they used to visit, digging up sparkling star-silver from the soil. Once, he found a piece the size of a fingernail. With no one to share it with, he cleaned it and quietly placed it by her pillow.

Only he knew how much he wanted her to sing to him. When he couldn’t sleep, he would hum softly to himself.

Only he knew that, though he claimed to avoid her, he often hid in corners just to watch her. And when she noticed him, he’d put on a cold face and leave as if nothing had happened.

If he said harsh things, no one would care. No one would try to get close.

If he looked fierce enough, others would know to stay away.

He couldn’t be kind. He couldn’t care about others’ feelings. Even if he did something for someone, he couldn’t let them know—otherwise, it would create unnecessary ties.

Being a cold, detached celestial demon… was exhausting.

At least he still had his brother. His brother would teach him what to do.

Xiao Lanqi walked on, gripping his wooden knife.

He was Xiao Lanqi—the Young Sovereign of Mingzhu Heaven, bearer of Taowu’s legacy, the strongest celestial demon in ten thousand years.

He couldn’t be burdened by love. And he couldn’t become a burden to anyone else.

But… if he was doing this for his mother’s sake, why did she look so sad?

He heard her sigh heavily. When she spoke, her voice was low, filled with an indescribable despair and sorrow:

“Why, Ashen… I’ve already tried my best.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I do it badly?

“Could it be that celestial demons truly are…

“…cold by nature, incapable of change?”