The Possessive Beauty Desires Me in Vain - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Dream of Spring

The Demon Realm was perpetually shrouded in thick, ink-black night. The nights here were exceptionally long, and correspondingly, the days were fleetingly short.

Through tens of thousands of years of struggle, the creatures of the Demon Realm had long grown accustomed to this darkness. There were no lamps, nor was there a need for them; it was as if they had long ago learned to disdain the light.

But there was an exception: a magnificent palace perched upon Mount Samuel. From the foot of the mountain to its peak, luminous night-pearls were placed, casting a faint, steady glow.

If the master of this palace was the Demon Venerable Qi Yu, then it ceased to be an exception.

Rumor had it that he had once wandered the human realm and, like a human, disliked the dark. Wherever he went, there had to be light.

When the Demon Venerable Qi Yu first entered the Demon Realm, facing the many flatteries of the local denizens, he merely flicked his gaze toward Mount Samuel and said coldly, “Build a palace. Not too ornate, but it must have light.”

“I watched that palace being built with my own eyes,” Chen Hexuan said, seemingly intoxicated. He stared at a void in mid-air and spoke without thinking. “I was there for seven years. I know every path, every door, and every night-pearl.”

His friend, also appearing drunk, asked, “I heard it is like eternal spring inside. Is that true?”

“It’s true,” Chen Hexuan looked up at the bare winter branches, frowning gloomily. “Tell me, he’s a demon who is no longer human—why was he so afraid of the dark and the cold?”

Chen Hexuan couldn’t quite remember the rest of the conversation.

He only felt that alcohol truly affected one’s faculties; for instance, he drifted into a dream much faster than usual today.

His vision narrowed and dimmed. When all was black, Chen Hexuan’s consciousness suddenly plummeted.

When he opened his eyes again, what met his gaze was a bright, clean hall. The sunlight outside and the glow of the night-pearls inside complemented each other, and a gentle breeze carried the warmth and fragrance of greenery into the quiet air.

Another dream of the Demon Palace. Another dream of Qi Yu.

Returning to this old haunt, Chen Hexuan only hoped this wouldn’t be another dream of debauchery.

Just then, a slender figure followed the vibrant sunlight, slowly entering from the main hall’s doors.

He paused for a moment, lifting an overly pale face, and blinked softly at Chen Hexuan. He called out gently, “Senior Brother.”

The dazzling sunlight and that pale little face made those emerald eyes seem exceptionally cold. Yet, those same eyes softened into a hazy glow the moment they landed on Chen Hexuan.

Chen Hexuan seemed to lose himself in the spring light behind the youth; he hesitated for a beat before hurriedly averting his gaze. He said unnaturally and coldly, “Do not call me ‘Senior Brother.’ You are no longer my junior brother.”

Qi Yu acted as if he hadn’t heard, yet his lashes drooped with an uncontrollable sense of loss.

He stood still for a moment, as if gathering his courage anew, before slowly walking toward Chen Hexuan.

Chen Hexuan had long grown accustomed to Qi Yu’s proximity and didn’t think to move away.

He had tried to avoid him many times before, but Qi Yu would always press closer. Later, he realized that avoidance was useless against the shameless Qi Yu. So, eventually, he stopped trying to hide.

Chen Hexuan rarely looked at Qi Yu properly; he was unwilling to look at him closely.

In his old memories, Qi Yu was merely a talented, somewhat solitary junior brother—if one were to add a descriptor, it would be ‘frail.’

But during the seven years in the Demon Palace, his memory had been forcibly filled with marks of Qi Yu—marks that were usually intertwined with passion and intimacy.

Though it wasn’t voluntary, he indeed knew every inch of Qi Yu’s body and every one of his expressions.

Thus, when his gaze accidentally slid down the youth’s frame and landed on those bare feet treading the dark carpet—they were beautiful, pale, and tinged with a hint of pink.

Chen Hexuan could hardly keep the heat from rising to his face.

He quickly shifted his gaze, letting it rest on Qi Yu’s earlobe.

Chen Hexuan couldn’t help but notice that no matter how cold Qi Yu was to others, he was always prone to shyness in front of him.

Perhaps feeling Chen Hexuan’s gaze, Qi Yu blinked his lashes, and his earlobes unconsciously flushed a light red.

The tense air in the room since Qi Yu’s entrance suddenly turned “pink.”

And that pink atmosphere turned tense again the moment Qi Yu sat down beside Chen Hexuan.

Chen Hexuan’s face darkened. Just as he was about to look away, the person beside him tugged at his sleeve.

“Senior Brother, don’t be mean to me today, alright?”

When Qi Yu spoke to Chen Hexuan, his voice was always slow and soft, with a lingering lilt at the end that made one mistakenly think he was acting spoiled.

Even without looking, Chen Hexuan could imagine his expression.

Those green eyes would be covered in a thin layer of mist, his nose would wrinkle slightly, his cheeks would puff out if rejected, and his eyes would curve into crescents if he got his way.

But Chen Hexuan never cared whether Qi Yu was happy or not. He would only turn his head and look down coldly, saying, “When will you let me go?”

Qi Yu’s grip on the sleeve loosened, and he instinctively recoiled. His face crumpled in anger as he said, “I won’t.”

Chen Hexuan gave him another cold look and said nothing.

In truth, Qi Yu didn’t realize that his puffed-up, angry face was hardly intimidating; it was actually difficult not to laugh.

Meeting Chen Hexuan’s deep eyes, Qi Yu would always lose himself. All his bad moods would vanish, and his love for the man would surge again.

Chen Hexuan was a handsome man—tall, upright, refined, and exceptionally talented.

He was also the most resilient, sincere, and hardworking person Qi Yu had ever met. He possessed every virtue in the world; he was never defeated by hardship, he was equal and kind to everyone, he was never arrogant, he was humble, and he was kind enough to help anyone…

Qi Yu couldn’t even think of a bad word to describe him, nor could he imagine Chen Hexuan’s faith ever collapsing.

Chen Hexuan could be the Sect Master’s most trusted disciple, the most reliable senior brother to his peers, smile at anyone, and talk to anyone—but he simply refused to smile at Qi Yu or speak to him first.

Yet Qi Yu loved seeing him smile. When Chen Hexuan smiled, Qi Yu felt happy himself.

But every time he realized Chen Hexuan was unwilling to smile at him or speak to him, Qi Yu couldn’t help but be heartbroken. His heart would shrivel up like a piece of dried, moistureless pickle.

Being rejected again, Qi Yu realized he should have been used to it. He pressed closer anyway, kneeling on the bed and leaning against Chen Hexuan’s arm, resting his hand on Chen Hexuan’s shoulder.

He leaned into Chen Hexuan’s ear and whispered, “Senior Brother…”

Qi Yu only ever called him “Senior Brother,” as if that were the only identity Chen Hexuan held in his heart.

But how could a junior brother be like the fox demons in storybooks, clinging so tightly to his senior brother? Was he trying to drain his essence?

Chen Hexuan felt a patch of cool skin press against his arm, as if the heat from his own body was being siphoned away by the person behind him.

Clearly, the spot where they touched was cooling down, yet Chen Hexuan felt himself growing hot.

He tried to pull his arm away, but Qi Yu pressed in again, even tighter than before.

Having lived with Qi Yu for seven years, Chen Hexuan knew that Qi Yu disliked wearing complex clothing; when no one else was around, he liked to dress very simply.

When Qi Yu had walked in, Chen Hexuan had noticed he was only wearing a thin, gauzy robe.

As they pressed together, that gauze seemed to vanish, making him wonder if it had been an illusion—if Qi Yu had become so decadent as to wear nothing at all.

It wasn’t until he was pushed onto the bed by Qi Yu that he realized the youth was indeed clothed; it was simply because they were too close.

Whenever Chen Hexuan was around, Qi Yu was always clingy.

No matter how cold his expression, his eyes would always linger stickily on Chen Hexuan.

It happened so frequently that Chen Hexuan often wondered if Qi Yu looked at him first, or if he looked at Qi Yu first.

Usually, it was Qi Yu. There were almost no exceptions.

Because he had been tricked by Qi Yu into signing a contract, Chen Hexuan generally could not disobey Qi Yu’s commands.

So, although he wanted to stop Qi Yu from burrowing into his arms, the moment Qi Yu looked up with those emerald eyes and their deep, mystical marks, he couldn’t refuse.

He could only let the person sink into his embrace.

At such times, Qi Yu would usually curl his lips into a triumphant smile.

He would pull Chen Hexuan’s arms around him and straddle his lap. His toes brushed against Chen Hexuan’s firm lower back; beneath him were tense, powerful thighs. His hands clung to Chen Hexuan’s broad shoulders, and his head buried itself in that warm chest.

Qi Yu felt as if he were drowning in a gentle sea named Chen Hexuan.

If such a death existed, Qi Yu felt he would face it quite gladly.

Besides, he had never been afraid of death.

Later, as Qi Yu leaned down to kiss the corner of Chen Hexuan’s mouth, the heavy doors of the hall slammed shut—perhaps the wind outside was too strong.

And later, as their clothes fell from the bed to the floor, the layers of bed curtains also dropped—surely the gap in the window was too large, letting the wind blow them down.

In these matters, Qi Yu was always the one to take the initiative. Chen Hexuan never bothered to remember if he had ever been the instigator.

He didn’t have the peace of mind to remember, because in the beginning, the person on top of him always clung so tightly that he couldn’t spare a thought. Even when things slowed down and the person beneath him was already dazed and half-asleep, Qi Yu would still clingily crawl into his arms, demanding to be held.

What could Chen Hexuan do? He could not disobey his junior brother’s wishes.