Chapter 29: Blind Devotion

The crimson bed curtains trembled lightly, and the jet-black iron chains bound the stark white wrists, issuing a soft clinking sound with every movement. Beigong Juechen lay with his eyes closed; his strength had returned, and it was easy for him to hear the tinkling of ornaments outside the room. He shifted slightly, and the door was carefully pushed open, the scent of cosmetics instantly swirling around his nose.

The maid deftly drew aside the bed curtains and hung them on the bedposts. Beigong Juechen slowly opened his eyes to see the maid holding a vivid red robe, waiting at the bedside. Upon seeing he was awake, she bowed and pushed the robe towards him. Beigong Juechen’s long, slanting brows furrowed slightly, and he let out a cold laugh, taking the robe and putting it on carelessly. The robe was secured only by a slender belt at the waist, leaving the hem wide open, revealing a large expanse of snowy white chest and two long, powerful, bare legs.

The maids set the food and withdrew in unison. The iron chain on Beigong Juechen’s wrist was neither too long nor too short, just enough for him to reach the table. The table had just been replaced. The room was not large, but because it contained only a big bed, a round table, and a bookshelf, it felt somewhat empty.

He had barely picked up his chopsticks when the door creaked open. He glanced idly at the newcomer, then picked up a piece of pastry and began to eat. Qi Yong stared at him, the astonishment in his eyes lingering.

Beigong Juechen’s face grew cold. Suddenly, he flung the glutinous rice ball aside, the iron chain on his wrist clanking dully with the movement. Qi Yong narrowed his eyes, catching the rice ball between his index finger and thumb, unfazed, and popped it into his mouth, laughing lightly: “Anything fed by you tastes different, indeed.”

Beigong Juechen snorted coldly. Though at a disadvantage now, his arrogance remained undiminished. “Do you intend to keep me trapped here forever?” He popped another rice ball into his mouth. Qi Yong shook his head. “It’s never as delicious as when you feed me yourself.” He looked up at Beigong Juechen. The man’s expression was indifferent; the vivid red robe accentuated his skin, white as fresh snow. His jet-black hair cascaded over his chest, partially shielding the two points exposed by the loose robe.

Unable to resist, Qi Yong reached out to brush aside the hair covering the chest, revealing the entire expanse. The skin beneath his hand was delicate and smooth, the muscles perfectly contoured, firm beneath his touch. Feeling the man’s increasingly intimidating gaze, he reluctantly withdrew his hand, sighing: “How could I possibly keep you captive? At best, I can restrain you for a time, as long as I can.”

Beigong Juechen withdrew his gaze coldly, carelessly gathering his collar. “Since you know you can’t hold me, why bother with such futile efforts?” Qi Yong looked at him, smiling and shaking his head. “Because some people… even knowing they must risk everything to possess them, and that even if they succeed, they cannot keep them, still they strive desperately to seize them. In the end, I simply cannot bear to let you go so easily…” He gazed at Beigong Juechen, his eyes full of puzzled emotion, and smiled wistfully. “You wouldn’t understand this feeling.”

Beigong Juechen frowned; indeed, he did not understand. Since childhood, anything he desired was either presented to him with both hands or easily obtained by himself. He never had such a burning urge to possess something. His long, powerful fingers caressed the jade ring on his thumb. He asked, “You want me merely for this vessel, but beauties abound in the world. Why waste your efforts on me?”

His question was not prompted by any feeling towards Qi Yong’s actions, but simply out of pure confusion. He had always been cold-hearted, showing only a sliver of tenderness towards Beigong Qiyi, the brother who shared his blood, and even that was but a fraction.

Qi Yong sighed softly, stood, and gripped Beigong Juechen’s jaw, gazing into the man’s dark green phoenix eyes, his voice low: “What I desire is not your beautiful vessel, but the proud, icy heart that lies beneath it!”

The first time he saw Beigong Juechen, the man stood in the main courtyard of Hundred Fiends Palace, surrounded by corpses, standing in a pool of blood. His dark green robes were stained and darkened by blood, his stark white face spattered with crimson droplets, and his dark green eyes were cold and eerie.

He was beautiful—so beautiful that it verged on terror. His right hand was still embedded in Ao Haojun’s heart. Qi Yong watched from not far away, with no intention of intervening. He simply stared as the youth slowly withdrew his hand. That hand was breathtaking, though now dripping with blood. The youth staggered back two steps, then stood upright, his arrogance undimmed.

The youth glanced at him expressionlessly, turned, and walked away, each step heavy and resolute. Qi Yong fixated on the youth’s straight back, a blaze igniting in his heart!

—It was not the fire of hatred, but of desire!

He buried Ao Haojun’s body with great ceremony, ascended to the position of palace master, and became the terror of the martial world. His actions were violent and decisive, merciless and ruthless. Everyone said he was heartless and cruel; only he knew he merely sought to become someone worthy of that man.

That man who scorned the world, wild and arrogant, yet so beautiful!

Beigong Juechen’s expression changed on hearing this. He shoved Qi Yong’s hand away, his thick lashes hiding all emotion in those dark green eyes. “What the Palace Master desires can only be a delusion.”

Qi Yong, struck on the wrist while lost in thought, kneaded it a few times to reset the twisted bones, raising his brows. “Perhaps. But even if I cannot have your heart, I will have your body and slowly destroy you, until you can only live by depending on me. Only then will it be fair.”

He turned and departed, the darkness and malice in his eyes dissolving into dust.

※※※

A cool breeze drifted in, but Beigong Qiyi’s restlessness only intensified. He tossed aside his book and poured himself a cup of tea, hoping to calm himself.

It had already been a day… Beigong Qiyi gripped the cup tightly. He knew that man could come to no harm, but the thought of him alone with Qi Yong made his agitation flare. He should be hidden away, unseen by anyone. But it was not enough… not yet.

“Master!” A startled cry snapped Beigong Qiyi out of his thoughts, and he realized the cup in his hand had been crushed, tea mingling with blood, splashing onto the floor. Glass shards were embedded in his flesh, his palm a mangled mess, blood dripping steadily.

Xi Mo hurriedly set aside his things, rummaging through the drawer for a small pair of tweezers. He washed them carefully before gently extracting each shard from Beigong Qiyi’s palm. Beigong Qiyi lowered his gaze to the worried face of Xi Mo; a complex emotion flickered in his eyes.

When Xi Mo had painstakingly washed away the blood and wrapped Beigong Qiyi’s hand in gauze, he grumbled: “Can’t you be more careful, Master?”

Beigong Qiyi pulled his hand back indifferently, smiling teasingly: “What’s wrong? Xi Mo, are you feeling sorry for me?”

Xi Mo glared at him fiercely, snorting: “If you won’t care for yourself, why should I worry so much?”

Beigong Qiyi used his uninjured hand to ruffle Xi Mo’s hair, soothing him: “I was just distracted by my thoughts. Don’t fuss over it, Xi Mo.”

Xi Mo turned away, refusing to respond. Beigong Qiyi pressed his lips into a smile, reached out, and pulled Xi Mo into his arms.

“Ah…” Xi Mo exclaimed, struggling in his embrace, but Beigong Qiyi rested his chin on Xi Mo’s shoulder, sighing softly: “Don’t move, let me lean for a while.”

The youth behind him had never seemed so powerless and weary. Xi Mo bit his lip, stopped struggling, and let him rest against him in silence.

As soon as tranquility settled, weariness swept over him. Beigong Qiyi leaned against the youth’s thin shoulder, quietly closing his eyes.