TL: Hua

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Chapter 31

[Shen Que: The engagement was settled years ago between Madam Ji and my mother. I cannot decide this unilaterally; it must be determined after a joint discussion between both families.]

Ji Xuan scanned the message from Shen Que on his terminal expressionlessly. Without even lingering on it for a second, he closed the interface.

At that moment, a shadow, accompanied by a faint, elusive fragrance, eclipsed the light in front of him.

“Whose message are you looking at, Brother?”

A familiar voice rang out by his ear. Shaikh had approached him unnoticed and was now staring at Ji Xuan’s face with a beaming smile.

He was dressed as a vampire count. His dark red formal attire fit his physique perfectly. Perhaps it was the lighting, or perhaps the costume, but his skin possessed a pale, sickly luster that contrasted with the outfit, and his crimson lips were curled into a perfectly calculated smile.

“Is there a need to report to you?” Ji Xuan lifted his eyelids and shot him a sidelong glance, his eyes devoid of emotion, as if he were looking at a piece of talking furniture.

Shaikh didn’t mind the coldness; instead, he leaned in closer from his bowed position. His gaze slowly paced over Ji Xuan’s face before lingering for a moment on his exposed upper arms. In the full-domain simulation, when Ji Xuan had gripped his neck and plunged the combat knife into his throat, the muscles in those arms had exerted force, creating lines just as firm and beautiful as they were now. His slender neck was like that of a swan.

It hurt. The moment the knife pierced his blood vessel, he trembled from the pain. The hand around his throat had shown no mercy, treating him like a loathsome, broken sack.

Yet, thinking of this, an almost devout, burning expression uncontrollably surfaced on Shaikh’s face.

“…There is no need to tell me,” he chuckled, his voice kept very low. “It’s just that I thought I saw Shen Que leave through the back door with an unpleasant look on his face, and Ji Yan even chased after him… What interesting things did you say to them? Won’t you share it with me?”

Ji Xuan remained noncommittal, stingy even with a cold gaze.

However, this disregard made Shaikh feel an excitement stronger than any scrutiny. The laughter in his voice thickened, even mixing with a hint of eagerness: “It’s fine if you don’t want to say. I just feel… it’s a bit of a pity.”

“How can someone as boring as Shen Que be worthy of occupying your precious time?”

This sentence carried blatant belittlement and provocation. Having finished, Shaikh elegantly extended his hand, palm upward, in a flawless gesture of invitation.

“I only came to ask you for a dance, Brother. I wonder if I might have that honor.” He bowed very low. “I promise that the duration of one dance will make your mood much more pleasant.”

Under Shaikh’s watch, Ji Xuan finally moved. He didn’t look at the hand; instead, he shifted his gaze upward to land on Shaikh’s face again. His eyes held neither loathing nor interest, only a sort of condescending tranquility.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward—less a smile than a cold mockery.

Then, meeting Shaikh’s expectant gaze, he parted his thin lips, his cold voice devoid of any fluctuation: “I won’t dance. You aren’t worthy.”

The rejection was crisp and neat, not even bothering to manufacture an excuse.

Shaikh’s extended hand froze in mid-air. His smile solidified for an instant before returning to normal. He slowly retracted his hand as if nothing had happened, though the look he cast on Ji Xuan grew a few degrees more fervent.

“Alright,” he shrugged, his tone light. “I will wait for the next opportunity when Brother is willing.”

Ji Xuan ignored him further and turned away. The hem of his pure white priest’s robe and the golden wheat stalks swept through the air, leaving Shaikh and his delusions behind.

He walked alone toward a relatively quiet, long bar counter. He casually took a glass of pale gold liquid with fine bubbles from the robotic bartending arm and leaned against the counter, sipping quietly.

The puppy who had promised to fulfill their agreement had yet to appear. Ji Xuan’s mood was somewhat displeased; he wondered if he should also trip him up a bit. After all, the guy had made him wait this long.

However, the experience of the lively party wasn’t too bad, and the drink mixed by the robotic arm was passable. He listened to the melodious music echoing through the hall; the lyrics, whether he understood them or not, were like a long-stretching wind, far superior to the decadent sounds of the Demon Realm.

There were no chairs by the bar, so he could only prop himself up against the edge. The dim lighting failed to hide his presence; a simple posture alone created a scene of its own, attracting countless gazes from the shadows and the light.

After the annual assessment, he had already become the most discussed person at Mars Military Academy, not to mention that his outfit today was exceptionally dazzling. The holy priest’s robe made him look both abstinent and noble, yet the faintly visible waistline at the back and the tattoo on his wrist were silently screaming with seduction.

This extreme contradiction fused on him with breathtaking intensity, making it impossible for people to stop themselves from wanting to approach. Several students in various costumes pushed and shoved one another, eager to try, but ultimately surrendered before his “do not approach” aura, only daring to watch from afar.

Just then, the host’s voice echoed from all directions: “Dear guests, the lights in the hall will go out for sixty seconds. In these sixty seconds, please feel free to find your dance partner!”

Buzz—

The crystal chandeliers in the hall suddenly went out, and all decorative light sources plunged into darkness instantly. A darkness where one couldn’t see their own hand shrouded everything, followed by a burst of excited commotion.

With vision stripped away, other senses became exceptionally sharp.

A figure came charging through the crowd at high speed. Before he could even get close, Ji Xuan sensed his arrival.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Soon, a hand lightly propped itself on the bar counter beside him, the arm pressing close to his waist, skillfully circling him into a relatively intimate space.

In the darkness, that person’s voice rang out from inches away: “Want to have a dance with me?”

He didn’t say a name, but the familiar voice was enough for Ji Xuan to confirm his identity the moment he spoke.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Ji Xuan said neutrally.

Pei Yingye licked the tip of his teeth, and a husky laugh rippled through the darkness: “I can teach you.”

Before the words fully landed, one of his hands had already slid down, accurately grasping Ji Xuan’s wrist. The hand that had been propped on the counter shifted to close in, wrapping around Ji Xuan’s waist to pull him into his embrace.

An aura like the wilderness descended upon Ji Xuan like a net.

“It’s very simple.” Pei Yingye’s breath brushed against his earlobe. His feet began to move, guiding Ji Xuan to follow his rhythm. “Just follow me.”

The burning palm pressed right against the cutout fabric, continuously transferring heat to Ji Xuan’s lower back. His body initially seemed a bit stiff, but he relaxed after only a few seconds.

Ji Xuan’s learning ability was startling; with just a few steps of guidance, he had already mastered the basic pace.

As decorative beams of light flickered on, Ji Xuan subconsciously squinted his eyes. He then used the limited light to see Pei Yingye’s outfit for tonight.

On his head sat a pair of winding black horns, their texture beautifully crafted, shimmering with a faint luster under the light beams. He wore matte black leather and dark red armor, which perfectly outlined his tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted physique. A few dark red lines, resembling battle damage, were painted on his face; they didn’t look messy but rather added a touch of fierce wildness.

Ji Xuan’s reflection showed in those blue eyes. Noticing his direct gaze, Pei Yingye turned his head away slightly in embarrassment and asked sheepishly, “Does it look good?”

Ji Xuan let out a laugh but didn’t answer.

Seemingly flustered by the silence, Pei Yingye pursed his lips in annoyance: “I knew I shouldn’t have believed the nonsense from that guy in the Art Department. This kind of outfit really is too embarrass—”

“It’s very cool.” The hand Ji Xuan had placed on Pei Yingye’s shoulder moved upward, hovering as it touched his horn. “You grew horns. How cute.”

Pei Yingye’s pupils suddenly contracted, then he pretended not to care as he said, “If you had worn that succubus set they had, you’d have a tail too.”

“Succubus?”

Pei Yingye froze, realizing belatedly that he had accidentally spoken his inner thoughts aloud. For a moment, he didn’t know how to explain.

Ji Xuan evaluated flatly, “What wild imagination.”

The dance continued under the blurred lights. Pei Yingye’s gaze seemed pulled by invisible threads, several times skipping over the ink-colored mark on Ji Xuan’s wrist. He was pondering if there was a natural way to bring the subject up, but after mentally rehearsing it several times, he couldn’t find an opening. Meanwhile, Ji Xuan’s breath was so close by, the skin touched by his fingertips, and that faint, cold scent was already burning into a fierce wildfire in his heart.

Finally, after a turn brought them extremely close, Pei Yingye tightened his grip on Ji Xuan’s waist. His blue eyes locked onto him intensely, no longer thinking of a roundabout way but cutting straight to the point.

“As per our agreement, it’s time you told me—” His thumb slid down, pressing against the floral branch on the skin of Ji Xuan’s pulse point. “What does this mean?”

The pulse under his thumb was calm, with no sign of accelerating. Ji Xuan raised his eyes to meet his stubborn ones; the blue pupils caught a snowy beam of light, clearly reflecting his own image.

“Just a lingering thought for someone.”

Perhaps because he was prepared, his face no longer showed that fleeting tenderness from before. His voice was steady, revealing no ripples, yet it left Pei Yingye even more frustrated.

“For whom?” Pei Yingye pressed. “That ungrateful Shen Que?”

The corners of Ji Xuan’s eyes tilted slightly as he enunciated each word: “A dead person.”

The arm Pei Yingye had around his waist tightened abruptly, and the smooth dance steps faltered for a brief moment. The light in his eyes flickered violently like a candle flame caught in the wind. All his arrogance, smugness, and determination were frozen by those three lightweight words.

Feeling a premonition, a bizarre thought suddenly popped into his mind, so he gritted his teeth and continued to probe: “A dead person… a first love?”

Ji Xuan looked at him with a half-smile, his lips barely meeting: “…Perhaps.”

The living ones aren’t even dealt with yet, and now a dead one also pops up?

Pei Yingye ground his molars in displeasure, thinking resentfully: If it were just the likes of Shen Que, it would be easy to handle, but if it’s a dead person…

The living can never defeat the dead.

This bizarre thought flashed through his mind.

Someone who had passed away, frozen in time, and could never be surpassed.

Who was it? It couldn’t be someone from the Capital planet; Ji Xuan had been back for less than two years, and the tattoo seemed to have existed for much longer.

Was it from the garbage planet?

Way back in his early youth when his heart first began to stir, had someone broken into his life, left such a bold stroke on his wrist, and then made a grand, regretful exit? To the point that he still couldn’t distinguish what those chaotic, complex feelings were and could only answer with the ambiguous word “perhaps” because summarizing it as “first love” was too simple?

Pei Yingye’s heart was in disarray, leading him to mess up his steps several more times.

Sensing his distraction, Ji Xuan followed the now-erratic rhythm and led him out of the dance floor without a word.

This corner was originally intended for resting; there were many drinks and desserts on the low tables. However, everyone was currently immersed in the music of the hall, and no one paid attention to this small world separated by curtains and ornamental plants.

Ji Xuan released Pei Yingye’s hand, turned to pick up a glass of wine from the table, and sat against the arm of a sofa, taking a sip from the exquisite rim first.

Pei Yingye stared at Ji Xuan’s moving Adam’s apple, then at the moist mark left on the rim of the glass.

Just a dead person…

Ji Xuan handed the glass he had just drunk from to Pei Yingye.

He’s nothing more than a dead man.

“Want a drink?”

Ji Xuan’s clear voice sounded exceptionally distinct in the quiet corner. Pei Yingye’s gaze drifted blankly from Ji Xuan’s moisture-stained lips to the mark on the glass, then finally to the swaying liquid. All his irritability, resentment, and obsession over that dead person seemed to dissipate miraculously at this moment.

Who cared if it was a first love or whatever? He was dead. It wasn’t like he could crawl out and compete with him.

Pei Yingye’s eyes brightened again. He reached out, but instead of taking the wine glass, he grasped Ji Xuan’s hand.

He gazed at Ji Xuan’s face; the dim light blurred his overly exquisite features, but it made the radiance in his eyes even clearer—mischievous, full of interest, as if he were scrutinizing Pei Yingye’s helplessness and indignation, while also feeling gratified that he had finally freed himself.

Ji Xuan had known from the beginning why Pei Yingye was distressed, and he knew exactly what to say to cause that distress. Yet, after effortlessly stirring someone else’s heart, he would so indulgently bestow a small measure of comfort—

Ji Xuan’s personality was even more wicked than he had imagined.

But what could he do?

Pei Yingye’s Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably.

Right now, he really wanted to kiss him.

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