The demon clan has always been unrestrained in expressing emotions.
As the demon lord, Wan Shao was no exception. Even though she didn’t have much personal experience to speak of, she felt no hesitation or guilt in “selling out” her friend without a second thought.
After all, they had been entangled for half a lifetime already—surely someone had to take the initiative, right?
Looking at Yun Duan, who had only lived a mere twenty-some years, Wan Shao, considering herself the elder, quietly emphasized the “half a lifetime” part of the description in her mind.
But it seemed that the ever-perceptive Lord Yun of the Clouds hadn’t fully grasped her words—or maybe she had understood, but found it hard to believe. Wan Shao watched Yun Duan’s eyes widen slightly, her expression shifting before she finally spoke slowly.
“… How do you know she won’t remember anything after getting drunk?”
Wan Shao shivered and hurriedly explained, inexplicably nervous, “It was just this one time when she got drunk and pulled up the watermelons she had planted herself. Then, the next day, she woke up and came to find me, furious. That’s when I realized she doesn’t remember what happens when she’s drunk—it was a coincidence! Really! I swear, I never did anything to her when she was drunk!”
Seeing Yun Duan’s expression soften, Wan Shao secretly breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like she had narrowly escaped disaster.
She hesitated, debating whether to further explain her thoughts. After all, she believed that even if Shang Can were sober, she would never reject Yun Duan. Clearing her throat, she began cautiously, “I think once the rice is cooked—”
“… That’s enough.”
Yun Duan interrupted her before she could finish, and Wan Shao, sensing the faint blush that seemed to creep onto Yun Duan’s porcelain-like face, stopped.
Noticing Wan Shao’s inquisitive gaze, Yun Duan awkwardly turned her head, focusing her eyes on Shang Can’s room door. She stood there, frozen for a moment, before quietly moving forward. As she hesitated before the door, she turned and softly said to Wan Shao, “… I just want to check on A Can.”
Sure, Wan Shao thought, her mind full of teasing thoughts. That’s what they all say.
Understanding Yun Duan’s bashful nature, Wan Shao nodded wisely and gestured for her to go inside. With Wan Shao’s encouraging gaze, Yun Duan finally pushed open the door and stepped into Shang Can’s room. Wan Shao stared wide-eyed until the door silently closed, then let out a long breath.
Well, if Shang Can asks tomorrow… just say Yun Duan made the first move.
Feeling she had done something truly good, Wan Shao returned to her own room and slept soundly with a smile.
Inside Shang Can’s room.
Yun Duan moved lightly, carefully closing the door behind her.
Though she made no sound, the quiet of the room felt unbearably loud.
It was the sound of her own heartbeat, thudding in her chest like a drum.
She hadn’t come with any hidden intentions, just concern that Shang Can might have overdrunk, but now that she was here, she felt a nervousness creeping over her. She should have knocked, Yun Duan thought with a hint of frustration. What if A Can wasn’t asleep yet?
How strange—Shang Can had been the one sneaking out to drink, and yet Yun Duan was the one feeling anxious now.
Yun Duan remained frozen by the door for a moment, her heart pounding. Eventually, she took a deep breath and moved toward the bed.
Shang Can was sound asleep.
She was lying haphazardly on the bed, as if she’d just collapsed onto it upon entering. Her clothes were still on, and the disarray at her collar suggested she’d tried and given up on changing. She seemed deeply asleep, her breathing soft and shallow. The white cloth covering her eyes had slipped to one side, revealing half of her delicate brows and eyes, tightly shut, as if even in sleep, she was troubled by something.
Yun Duan stood there, staring at Shang Can for a long while. She had been worried about Shang Can’s eyes for some time. Both Shang Can and Wan Shao had said the condition required avoiding light, so it had been days since Yun Duan had seen her without the white cloth. Now, finally glimpsing her face again, Yun Duan felt her heart lighten, and a strange impulse to touch Shang Can came over her.
She hesitated, her hand reaching out but never making contact before she drew it back again.
In countless nights of the past, Yun Duan had mentally traced Shang Can’s features, but standing here, seeing her in person, she found herself unable to act. Shang Can’s eyes were always beautiful, full of charm and mischief, a window into all her unspoken thoughts. Yun Duan had always loved looking into them, though Shang Can often avoided her gaze after just a few moments, as if she couldn’t keep her secrets hidden for long.
But these recent days had been different. The white cloth over Shang Can’s eyes seemed to block her emotions from showing, making it harder for Yun Duan to guess what she was thinking. Only twenty-some days had passed, but Yun Duan was starting to feel anxious, as if the person before her was made of mist, slipping further and further away.
That day, at the restaurant.
Yun Duan’s breath caught as she remembered that moment, her hand unconsciously clenching.
If Shang Can hadn’t covered her eyes then, what kind of look would she have given her?
Surprise? Confusion? Warmth? Or… disgust?
Shang Can had acted so casually at the time. Yun Duan had no idea how she had been spotted while eavesdropping, but when Shang Can called her name, her mind had gone blank. She had braced herself for a rejection, but Shang Can had simply smiled and said nothing more.
If even Wan Shao could read Yun Duan’s feelings so easily, then surely Shang Can…
Surely Shang Can knew too, right?
Perhaps it was the night that stirred such thoughts. Yun Duan slowly crouched beside the bed, staring at Shang Can’s troubled face, a wave of bitterness rising within her.
Human desires are greedy. All those years spent searching, Yun Duan had thought simply finding Shang Can alive would be enough. After reuniting, she had wanted nothing more than recognition. And now, after all she had wished for had come true, her heart was still unsatisfied.
She wanted Shang Can’s thoughts, her gaze, her heart—all focused on her.
The love she longed to express lay heavy on her tongue, too overwhelming to speak. Every day, every glance, her desire grew stronger, yet she stayed silent for fear of driving Shang Can away. Yun Duan knew she couldn’t continue like this, but the courage she had finally gathered to confess had been shattered by overhearing that conversation.
If Shang Can already knew her feelings and chose to ignore them, then—
Then there was no point in saying anything more.
At least Shang Can still favored her, Yun Duan thought. Even if it was just because she was Shang Can’s only junior disciple, she still held a special place in her heart.
This thought should have been comforting, but instead, it sparked an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction. Yun Duan took a deep breath, her gaze drifting down to Shang Can’s lips.
Shang Can’s lips were usually pale, but perhaps because of the alcohol, they now looked slightly flushed, like they had been lightly stained with rouge. Her lips were thin and faintly pressed together, completely… defenseless.
Tonight was a night Shang Can wouldn’t remember.
The sudden thought filled Yun Duan with a dry, burning heat. She looked away as if scalded, but the idea played over and over in her mind, as if tempting her: She won’t know.
As if entranced, Yun Duan slowly leaned closer.
Her heart was pounding so loudly it felt deafening. No matter how much she tried to calm down, it didn’t help. She even began to worry that her heartbeat might wake Shang Can, but thankfully, Shang Can remained deeply asleep. She looked so young while she slept, strands of her black hair spilling messily across her neck and face. Yun Duan instinctively reached out to gently brush them aside. Shang Can didn’t stir, still quietly dreaming, likely too deeply drunk to notice anything.
What kind of dream is she having? Yun Duan wondered, seeing the furrow in her brow. She wanted to smooth it out but feared waking her, left only to guess at what troubling dream Shang Can might be experiencing.
Just for tonight… Even if it’s only for tonight.
Yun Duan’s chest was overwhelmed with indescribable emotions. Her mind grew hazy, consumed by the sight of her beloved’s defenseless sleeping face. All the rules of propriety faded away as she slowly leaned closer to Shang Can, unable to suppress the selfish desire stirring in her heart.
“……”
But faster than the kiss she intended, tears fell.
Yun Duan didn’t know what had happened to her. In an instant, her vision blurred. Shang Can’s calm face turned into a smudged blur through her uncontrollable tears. She couldn’t dare to cry aloud, but her whole body trembled violently, as though she had lost control. The tears streamed down, falling onto the white cloth and then onto Shang Can’s eyes.
In a panic, Yun Duan pulled back, trying to wipe away the tear. But she watched helplessly as it traced its path down Shang Can’s graceful eye, creating an illusion that Shang Can was crying.
But it was just that—a fleeting illusion. The only ones here were the peacefully sleeping Shang Can and the inexplicably sobbing Yun Duan. Trying to steal a kiss from her beloved in this moment of vulnerability, yet failing miserably, Yun Duan didn’t even know why she was crying, and still, the tears wouldn’t stop. They fell into her palms, soaking her sleeves.
What should I do? What am I supposed to do?
She yearned for more than just the role of a “junior disciple.” She feared Shang Can waking up now, yet deep down, she secretly longed for it. If Shang Can were to awaken, perhaps Yun Duan could lean into her embrace, her tears serving as an excuse for the comfort she so desperately craved—an embrace she had longed for day and night, and a night of tender, bewildered consolation.
“… Ah Can…”
In the quiet moments between her sobs, she unconsciously whispered her beloved’s name. Yun Duan couldn’t recall exactly when she had started avoiding calling Shang Can “Senior Sister.” It was as if calling her by her name would draw them closer, one step further. Yun Duan knew herself to be a greedy person—she wanted her senior sister to be hers alone, and she wanted Ah Can to belong to her alone as well.
Ever since that demonic tide years ago, it seemed Yun Duan had only been following in Shang Can’s footsteps, stubbornly trailing behind.
She suddenly recalled the second demonic tide they experienced. It was Shang Can who risked her life to protect her again. When Shang Can fell unconscious from her injuries, Yun Duan, while desperately clinging to the hope brought by her troublesome “flawless immortal body,” had thought, in a daze: If I die here with my senior sister, that would be fine too.
She had willingly fed her blood to Shang Can, gripping her tightly as though she wanted to merge this person into her very bones.
“… Ah Can, I… I’ve always—”
If only I had kissed her back then.
Yun Duan’s unfinished words came to an abrupt halt, hanging emptily in the air. She didn’t continue. Instead, she gradually calmed down.
Carefully, she stood up and pulled the thin blanket over Shang Can’s body. She lingered for a moment longer by the bedside, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the darkness and silence sealed within.
In the room, time seemed to freeze the moment Yun Duan left. What followed was a silence so deep it felt like it would stretch on forever.
After an indeterminable length of time, the hand of the person lying on the bed stirred. Slowly, Shang Can lifted her hand and straightened the white cloth that had shifted aside.
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