Chapter 211
A-Yan suddenly leaning in for a kiss caught Su Ci off guard.
However, it played right into his intentions. After a brief moment of surprise, he didn’t push A-Yan away, instead allowing himself to sink into the kiss, sweetened with the lingering flavor of fruit juice.
They had kissed many times before. Since their first kiss, Su Ci had grown accustomed to being woken up by A-Yan’s kisses every morning. Yet, he never grew tired of it.
On the contrary, he found himself wanting more.
As a tingling sensation spread from his tongue, Su Ci’s gaze turned hazy. His fingers, which had been clutching A-Yan’s collar, gradually loosened and shifted to rest on his shoulders.
A-Yan’s shoulders were broad and firm, a far cry from his frail, slender frame when he had been in his cub form. Su Ci’s hands unconsciously trailed down from A-Yan’s shoulders, grazing over the solid muscles of his arms and his lean, powerful waist.
Then his hand was caught by A-Yan.
Because A-Yan often handled ingredients personally and occasionally worked in the fields, his skin was a healthy wheat color, rougher and less smooth than Su Ci’s pale and delicate complexion.
The subtle roughness of their touching palms sent a peculiar itch straight to Su Ci’s heart.
He couldn’t quite describe the sensation—it felt as though a feather was tickling his heart, leaving him both restless and unsure of what he wanted.
At that moment, A-Yan released his lips.
Their noses brushed against each other, and their heated breaths mingled, as if the glistening thread between their lips still connected them, unbroken.
A-Yan held Su Ci’s restless hand in his own, gazing into his eyes with a deep, affectionate look. Lowering his head slightly, he kissed Su Ci’s palm.
Su Ci watched him intently as A-Yan’s soft lips trailed from his palm to his fingertips, brushing against the pads of his fingers. The warmth of A-Yan’s tongue swept over his fingertips, and then, bit by bit, he took Su Ci’s index and middle fingers into his mouth.
The sensation, so intimately connected to his nerves, made Su Ci’s heart skip a beat.
Suddenly, he felt that thirst wasn’t the only need he had.
The memory of that day at the sink surfaced in his mind. The sensations he had felt then awakened once more, clear and vivid, manifesting unmistakably in his body.
Su Ci blinked, while A-Yan—the instigator—curved his lips into a slight smirk. His platinum eyes, clear and beautiful, sparkled with satisfaction.
Releasing Su Ci’s fingers, A-Yan leaned in to place a soft kiss on his flushed lips and whispered, “Su Su, let me make it up to you, all right?”
A faint blush spread across Su Ci’s fair skin, a testament to the sensitivity of the body he had created to mimic humans.
Pressing his fingers against A-Yan’s lips, where a faint sheen still lingered from their earlier interaction, Su Ci said nothing. Yet, A-Yan’s gaze grew even deeper, as if drawn into a bottomless ocean.
Su Ci could sense the changes in his body, but the hazy, tipsy sensation overtaking him left him unwilling to move.
The “compensation” he’d wanted earlier had been nothing more than a kiss. Clearly, A-Yan had other ideas.
While Su Ci was momentarily lost in thought, the scenery around them quietly transformed.
The metallic, futuristic design of the nurturing center faded away. The ceiling was replaced by a dark, overcast sky, and snowflakes began drifting down.
Su Ci wasn’t particularly surprised.
This was an illusion created by A-Yan. As a Spirit of Law, and with his power gradually recovering, creating a mere illusion was child’s play for him.
Su Ci reached out to catch the snow but found a pale pink petal resting in his palm instead.
He was lying alone on a snowy plain, and A-Yan was nowhere to be seen. All around him, the blossoms and leaves of peach trees had fallen, leaving the trees bare. Staring at the scene, Su Ci felt a pang in his chest.
Fragments of sealed memories resurfaced in his mind, and his brows furrowed slightly.
“A-Yan?”
Su Ci sat up, his long, pale-gold hair cascading over his shoulders. He had reverted to his true form, with golden hair and eyes, dressed in the flowing robes of an ancient era.
A figure appeared behind him, extending their arms to pull him into a tight embrace.
Su Ci didn’t resist but frowned deeply.
“Why?”
He didn’t understand why A-Yan had chosen this place, but his mood had soured considerably. The reappearance of these old scenes brought back the pain of countless partings. Though the wounds had healed, the scars they left behind remained ugly reminders.
He didn’t want to confront those past memories anymore, and A-Yan’s probing into his heart left him feeling irritated.
A-Yan held him tightly, his mind filled with scenes of Su Ci’s solitary figure drowning his sorrows in drink. The ache in his heart deepened, and his arms instinctively tightened their embrace.
“You asked me that day why I didn’t take my human form earlier,” A-Yan said.
“So?” Su Ci, who had been flustered and distracted earlier, was now beginning to regain his clarity.
Though he stayed in A-Yan’s embrace, it was as if he had withdrawn into a shell, like a hedgehog protecting itself. His tone turned sharp and cold. “Are you trying to make up for past regrets?”
A-Yan had never been treated like this by Su Ci before. It left him both pained and uneasy.
Though their relationship had grown increasingly intimate in recent days, A-Yan could always sense something standing between them.
He knew he shouldn’t rush things. They had plenty of time ahead of them—he could slowly find his way into Su Ci’s heart.
But Su Ci’s question that day had unsettled him.
Why hadn’t he taken his human form earlier?
A-Yan often regretted this himself. If he could have taken his human form sooner, Su Su wouldn’t have had to endure so much alone. Perhaps his disposition wouldn’t have become so cold and distant.
A-Yan had become conscious early on and had witnessed many sides of Su Ci.
In his earliest memories, Su Ci’s spirit had appeared as a youthful figure. He would playfully chase after cats and dogs, spending his days idling away in the mortal world. He had done many foolish things, but he had also been carefree and truly happy.
If he had been able to take human form back then… If he could have stayed by Su Su’s side from the beginning… Would everything that followed have been avoided?
Would Su Su have been spared the melancholy and desolation brought by countless farewells? Would he not have shut himself off from emotional bonds to avoid pain, nor chosen to sleep for long stretches to escape the solitude of endless years?
And perhaps the creatures of the land wouldn’t have been allowed to destroy this planet to its current state.
Watching all this unfold, how could A-Yan not feel regret and anguish?
So why hadn’t he been able to take form earlier?
Su Ci didn’t wait for A-Yan’s response. His brows furrowed, and he pushed away A-Yan’s arms. “I’ve been spoiling you too much.”
He stood up, his gaze falling on the withered peach blossom forest before him. His heart clenched again.
The familiar scene brought back memories of the friends he had bid farewell to over the years. A bitter smile tugged at Su Ci’s lips. For A-Yan to recreate this illusion with such accuracy, it was clear he hadn’t been lying—he really had been watching him all along.
Closing his eyes, Su Ci prepared to dispel the illusion. But before he could, A-Yan grabbed his hand and pulled him back forcefully.
Caught off guard, Su Ci stumbled and fell into A-Yan’s arms, where he was held tightly once more.
“I’m sorry,” A-Yan’s low voice murmured in his ear. “I never intended to reopen your wounds.”
Su Ci pressed his lips together and turned his face away. Though still annoyed, he didn’t struggle this time.
“I do want to make up for the regrets of the past.”
As his words fell, before Su Ci could respond, the scenery around them began to change again.
The dark clouds in the sky parted, and clear, golden sunlight broke through, bathing the world in warmth.
The withered peach trees came back to life. Green buds sprouted on the barren branches, followed by tiny flower buds. One by one, they blossomed into a sea of vibrant peach blossoms, covering the trees in full bloom.
The snowy ground they were sitting on quietly shed its blanket of snow, giving way to fresh green grass that quickly spread throughout the peach blossom forest.
Su Ci watched the transformation of the scenery, his gaze briefly dazed, but it soon turned cold again.
When all the changes had settled, he spoke indifferently, “So what if the scenery has changed? Spring returns to the earth, flowers bloom in abundance—do you think I couldn’t achieve this myself?”
A-Yan heard the icy tone in his words but keenly sensed a subtle softening in Su Ci’s demeanor.
Seizing the moment, he continued, “Of course you could, but it’s not the same.”
“What’s different?”
“You have me now.”
Su Ci’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the peach blossom forest before him. A breeze swept through, sending petals cascading like rain.
It was a breathtaking sight—one he hadn’t revisited in many years.
He couldn’t help but imagine what might have been if A-Yan had been by his side back then. But even in his musings, he found no clear answer.
After a long silence, Su Ci spoke again.
“There’s no wine.”
The remark was abrupt and out of context, but A-Yan exhaled in relief. He knew this was a sign Su Ci was beginning to let go of his anger.
A small jar of wine materialized before them.
Su Ci caught the scent of the wine and frowned. “You conjured this?”
“I brewed it myself,” A-Yan replied softly. “It’s not as aged, but with time, it will grow richer in flavor.”
Su Ci hesitated before picking up the jar. He removed the lid and took a deep swig. He froze briefly, the taste catching him off guard.
“Peach blossom wine?”
“Yes.”
A-Yan explained, “It’s from the peach trees you had Wei Ming and the others plant. I harvested the petals myself to brew this wine. I had planned to let it age for a few more years, but now seems like the right time.”
Su Ci smirked. “It tastes much worse than the wine that old man from the Sound Sect used to brew.”
“I’ll keep improving,” A-Yan replied earnestly.
Su Ci didn’t know how to respond to that. He gave a faint scoff, then resumed drinking. Whether it was the alcohol taking effect or the setting finally soothing him, he felt much of his pent-up frustration dissipate.
When he looked at the peach blossom forest again, it no longer carried the same weight of sorrow.
Before long, Su Ci had drained the entire jar of wine.
He drank quickly, the wine spilling from the corners of his lips, trailing down his pale skin, and soaking the front of his robes. Perhaps the human body he had crafted for himself was not particularly tolerant of alcohol, as the blush that had receded earlier returned to his face, spreading even deeper.
Slightly intoxicated, Su Ci leaned drowsily into A-Yan’s embrace. Just as he tossed the empty wine jar aside, he was gently but firmly laid back by A-Yan.
His pale golden hair cascaded loosely around him as he lay on the grass, his eyes hazy with intoxication. The fresh scent of grass mingled with the lingering aroma of wine, creating an invigorating yet dreamy atmosphere. Through his blurry vision, the blue sky and the pink-and-white peach blossom trees blurred, replaced by the sight of A-Yan’s handsome face.
“What… are you doing?” he murmured.
A-Yan didn’t answer.
He felt the ties of his robe being undone, a cool breeze brushing against his skin, though it did little to quell the growing heat coursing through his body. A-Yan moved out of his line of sight, leaving Su Ci to stare at the cascading petals falling from the sky. Slowly, the tips of his toes pointed upward, forming a graceful arch…
“I just want you to be happy.”
That was the last thing he heard, A-Yan’s voice murmuring softly in his ear.
