Chapter 55

The Kui Wood helped.

It truly did.

Each breath Zhuo Yichen took felt steadier than the last. The burning chaos inside his meridians didn’t vanish-but it softened, like a storm forced to hold its rage behind closed skies.

But neither of them believed it was the end.

Not anymore.

Because both had learned the cruelest truth:

Peace was never permanent for them.

Only borrowed.

So they meditated together that night.

Back-to-back at first.

Then closer.

Until their breaths slowly aligned.

One was suppressing a body that kept trying to turn into something unrecognizable.

The other was holding together a life that had already been broken too many times.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand trembled slightly as he guided his energy into Yichen’s meridians.

Yichen didn’t flinch anymore.

He trusted him.

Completely.

That trust alone was heavier than any spell.

Outside, wind brushed through the courtyard.

Somewhere far away, something howled in the Wilderness.

But inside the small room-

there was only silence.

And two people refusing to fall apart.
❄️❄️✨✨✨✨⚔️⚔️⚔️

Later, they walked.

The night was quiet, almost gentle, as though the world itself was pretending nothing was wrong.

Zhao Yuanzhou said nothing.

That alone was unusual.

Yichen noticed immediately.

He slowed his steps.

“Demon.”

No response.

“Zhao Yuanzhou.”

Still nothing.

He finally stopped walking.

The demon halted a few steps ahead, as if he had been dragged out of a deep thought.

“…What?”

Yichen studied him for a moment.

Then spoke, casually-like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Let’s marry.”

Even the wind seemed to pause.

Zhao Yuanzhou turned slowly.

“…What did you say?”

Yichen tilted his head slightly.

“I said let’s marry.”

The demon blinked once.

Twice.

For the first time in centuries, Zhao Yuanzhou looked completely unsure if he had heard correctly.

“You… are proposing marriage.”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

Yichen gave a small shrug.

“I may die.”

The words hit the air too lightly for something so heavy.

So he repeated it, softer this time.

“I may die.”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s expression changed immediately.

But Yichen continued, voice steadier now.

“So before that happens…”

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

“…at least let’s have something good.”

Something real.

“We wasted too many lifetimes,” Yichen said quietly.

“In the past lives, I didn’t know I would die so soon.”

“So I never dared to be happy.”

His gaze lifted toward Zhao Yuanzhou.

“But now I know.”

A pause.

“So let’s not waste this one too.”

The silence that followed was long.

Not awkward.

Just heavy with everything they had survived.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand slowly moved toward his sleeve.

For a moment, Yichen thought he might refuse.

That even now, even here, the world would still win.

But instead-

Zhao Yuanzhou took out a jade ring.

Old.

Simple.

Warm, as though it had been held for a long time.

Yichen froze.

“…You already had that?”

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t answer.

He stepped forward.

Took Yichen’s hand gently.

And slid the ring onto his finger.

It fit perfectly.

As if it had always belonged there.

Yichen looked down at it in silence.

Then slowly back at him.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was low.

“Then don’t die. I won’t let you die…”

It wasn’t a command.

It was fear disguised as a request.

Yichen’s breath trembled slightly.

Before either of them could say anything else-

Zhao Yuanzhou pulled him closer.

And kissed him.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Just certain.

Like someone finally choosing what they had been afraid to choose across lifetimes.

Yichen closed his eyes.

And for once-

there was no battlefield behind his eyelids.

Only warmth.

Only acceptance.

Only a future that, for a fleeting moment, felt possible.

❄️❄️❄️✨✨✨✨⚔️⚔️⚔️

Two days passed in a strange kind of silence.

Not peaceful.

Not safe.

But careful-like the world itself was holding its breath, afraid to interrupt something fragile.

The wedding was set on the outskirts of Tiandu, in a quiet courtyard surrounded by old trees and soft wind.

No grand palace.

No royal decree.

No divine witnesses.

Only the people who had survived too much to pretend anymore.

Ying Lei arrived first, pretending to be calm but failing miserably. Wen Xiao followed, carrying a small bundle of ritual items. Pei Sijing stood quietly at the edge, watching everything like she was afraid that if she blinked, it would all disappear.

Even the mountain gods lingered nearby, unusually silent.

Because they all understood-

this wasn’t a celebration of joy alone.

It was a celebration of time they had stolen back from fate.

Zhuo Yichen stepped out slowly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

He wore red.

Not bright.

Not loud.

But deep-like embers held under ash, still burning after everything.

The fabric fell softly around him, and over his face rested a thin red veil, woven delicately with fine netted patterns.

He looked unreal.

Like something that shouldn’t exist in a world this cruel.

Ying Lei actually forgot to breathe…

Wen Xiao quietly turned her head away, pretending she wasn’t emotional.

Pei Sijing lowered her gaze, gripping her sleeves tightly.

Because it wasn’t just beauty.

It was survival made visible.

Zhao Yuanzhou stood still at the other end of the courtyard.

For once, he didn’t move immediately.

He just looked at Yichen.

As if trying to memorize him all over again.

As if afraid the next blink would take him away.

There was happiness in his eyes.

But underneath it-

something heavier.

Regret.

Everything he hadn’t saved.

Everything he had lost.

Everything he still feared losing.

Yichen stopped in front of him.

The veil moved slightly with the wind.

He tilted his head.

“Demon.”

Zhao Yuanzhou let out a soft breath.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand trembled slightly as he reached forward, gently lifting the edge of the veil just enough to see Yichen’s face.

Just a glimpse.

Enough.

Too much.

He closed his eyes for a second.

Like he was holding back something that had lived in him for lifetimes.

Then he spoke softly.

“Don’t disappear.”

Yichen didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he reached out and held his hand.

Firm.

Warm.

Real.

The ritual began.

No grand music.

Only soft chants from Wen Xiao and the mountain gods.

Ying Lei awkwardly acted as witness, nearly dropping the ceremonial scroll twice. Pei Sijing stood guard like a silent vow.

The courtyard felt small.

But somehow-

it contained everything.

Lives.

Deaths.

Rebirths.

All of it gathered into a single moment.

When the final words were spoken, silence fell.

Zhao Yuanzhou turned to Yichen.

Very slowly.

Like he was afraid this was a dream that would break if touched too hard.

Then he took Yichen’s hand again.

This time more firmly.

As if making a promise not to fate.

Not to gods.

But to him.

“I don’t know how long I can keep you safe,” he said quietly.

Yichen looked at him through the red veil.

“But you’ll try,” he replied.

It wasn’t a question.

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded.

“Yes.”

A beat of silence.

Then he added, softer-

“Even if I fail… I’ll still try.”

Yichen’s fingers tightened slightly around his.

“That’s enough.”

The wind passed through the courtyard.

Soft.

Almost kind.

Zhao Yuanzhou stepped closer.

And under the quiet witness of those who had chosen to stay-

he pulled Yichen gently into his arms.

Not as demon and mortal.

Not as hunter and hunted.

But as two people who had finally stopped running from each other.

Yichen rested his head against his shoulder.

The red veil shifted slightly in the wind.

And for the first time in a long time-

there was no battle waiting beyond the horizon.

Only this moment.

Only warmth.

Only a fragile, impossible promise that neither of them dared to name too loudly-

because saying it out loud might have made it break.