The Possessive Beauty Desires Me in Vain - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Golden Pattern

When Qi Yu woke up, the first thing he saw was Chen Hexuan’s Adam’s apple. It rose like a small mountain, sliding with the rise and fall of his chest, flanked by a few hidden, powerful veins.

To Qi Yu, all of this was incredibly endearing. He couldn’t resist lightly brushing his lips against it. Seeing that Chen Hexuan hadn’t woken yet, he stole two more soft kisses.

Finally, as he prepared for a fourth, Chen Hexuan shifted. The arm that had been draped over Qi Yu’s waist slid off onto the bed.

Qi Yu immediately squeezed his eyes shut, feigning a deep sleep.

After a moment, Chen Hexuan’s breathing steadied again.

Qi Yu opened his eyes and looked down at the arm that had fallen. Without a second thought, he gently grasped it, wanting to drape it back over himself. He cherished every moment he could spend sleeping beside his senior brother, unwilling to waste even an inch of time.

But then, as if remembering something, he stopped.

He pulled the blanket up softly, crawled out from under it, and tucked it tightly around Chen Hexuan’s shoulders. Fearing he might wake him, he carefully climbed over Chen Hexuan’s body, stepped barefoot onto the floor, and followed the moonlight out of the hall.

Once Qi Yu had left, Chen Hexuan opened his eyes.

Qi Yu’s movements had been minimal, but Chen Hexuan had never actually been asleep.

In previous dreams, falling asleep within the dream meant waking up in reality. Usually, these dreams ended after their intimacy, but this one was exceptionally long.

Time on Mount Samuel followed the rhythm of the human realm. The night here wasn’t as oppressive as the rest of the Demon Realm. Stars twinkled in the ink-wash sky, and a full moon hung high, spilling pale blue light through the open windows to fill the hall.

Perhaps because the moonlight was so beautiful tonight, Chen Hexuan felt a sudden urge to see what Qi Yu was doing.

He got out of bed and followed Qi Yu’s scent. Before long, he saw Qi Yu’s figure disappear behind a hidden door.

When this palace was being built, Qi Yu had kept Chen Hexuan by his side. Having watched it rise and lived here for seven years, Chen Hexuan was intimately familiar with every room and every plant.

Yet, he had never seen the door Qi Yu just entered.

While Chen Hexuan stood in contemplation, he waited a moment, then mimicked Qi Yu’s hand seals to open the door and follow him in.

Inside was a deep, pitch-black tunnel. He followed it for what felt like half the length of the mountain until a faint point of light appeared.

As he drew closer, the light grew until it became an opening just large enough for a person to pass through.

Chen Hexuan ducked through the hole and was immediately met with a wave of intense cold—the cavern was walled with ice, and below lay a massive frozen pool.

The pool looked to be half the size of the Demon Palace. Its surface was partially frozen, emitting a biting, frigid mist.

And in this pool sat a figure Chen Hexuan knew all too well.

The man he was looking for was slumped against the edge. His ink-black hair was gathered and draped over his reddened left shoulder. The water’s surface brushed against his lower shoulder blades, occasionally grazing his sensitive skin, leaving water droplets and frost on jade-like flesh marked with various traces of their earlier passion.

He looked exhausted. His head rested on his folded arms, his brows slightly furrowed, and his eyes closed. His breath was light, and his lips were unconsciously slightly upturned. A thin layer of frost had formed on his pale, bloodless face. In this silent, icy world, he looked like a holy, lifeless statue.

At this sight, Chen Hexuan felt as though his feet were made of lead and his chest was being crushed. Only a heavy sense of sorrow remained.

In Chen Hexuan’s eyes, there was another vision: a steady stream of spiritual energy was surging from the bottom of the pool into Qi Yu’s body. This energy was completely incompatible with Qi Yu’s own, yet Qi Yu made no effort to regulate the two conflicting forces, letting them clash and tear within him.

Though the external energy would eventually be converted into his own, continuing this long-term would undoubtedly damage his very foundation. This method of cultivation was truly a matter of “harming the enemy by eight hundred but losing a thousand of oneself.”

Chen Hexuan didn’t know whether to be angry or to laugh. He couldn’t find any humor in it; it was simply absurd.

Qi Yu had been the star disciple of the Xingzhou Sect. He must have known the dangers of this practice. Why would he do this?

Chen Hexuan couldn’t understand. Right now, he just wanted to pull the man out of the water.

Just as he was about to move, Qi Yu opened his eyes and looked toward him, his expression cold. “Who is there?”

Chen Hexuan immediately suppressed his presence and hid in the shadows, not wanting to startle him. He watched Qi Yu’s every move in silence.

Receiving no response and sensing no outsider’s aura, Qi Yu closed his eyes again, completely unaware of the eyes watching him so intently.

Another half hour passed before Qi Yu slowly opened his eyes, the frost falling from his lashes. He stood up slowly, his pale skin—covered in marks and ice—emerging from the water.

Shortly after Qi Yu reached the shore, a strange sight occurred.

Massive golden patterns bloomed across Qi Yu’s skin, flashing with a golden light.

Simultaneously, the two violent energies within him suddenly calmed. They merged and intertwined, becoming fully absorbed by him.

Chen Hexuan burned this image into his mind, his heart a tangled mess of confusion.

He realized that there was a third energy within Qi Yu—one that was very similar to Chen Hexuan’s own foundation. It was as if Qi Yu were a giant sponge soaked in Chen Hexuan’s essence.

Chen Hexuan’s spiritual power had long been sealed by Qi Yu, but he knew it was only sealed. Where was Qi Yu getting this energy from?

Before he could speculate further, the vivid patterns on Qi Yu’s skin faded. When they vanished completely, Qi Yu abruptly collapsed to the ground.

Alarmed, Chen Hexuan rushed to his side. He pulled Qi Yu into his arms by the waist and checked his face. The youth was only deathly pale, his lips devoid of color, but otherwise stable.

Chen Hexuan felt a hollow ache in his chest. Finding the man freezing to the touch, he instinctively stripped off his outer robe, wrapped him tightly in the garment that still held his warmth, and lifted him in a horizontal carry.

As he ran back, he couldn’t help but notice how light, thin, and small the person in his arms felt. This man was capable of doing terrible things to him, yet Chen Hexuan couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

Sensing a familiar, comforting scent, Qi Yu burrowed deeper into Chen Hexuan’s chest. He unconsciously gripped Chen Hexuan’s robe, whispering something under his breath.

Chen Hexuan leaned in to listen, only to realize Qi Yu was murmuring, “Senior Brother.”

He placed the youth back on the bed as quickly as he could, the cold from Qi Yu’s body seeping into his own. Just as he turned to grab another blanket, a hand tightly caught his sleeve.

“Senior Brother… don’t go…”

Chen Hexuan fixed his gaze on Qi Yu’s face. The gauze-like moonlight illuminated his flawless features. The unconscious beauty’s brow was knit in pain; a translucent tear slid slowly from the corner of his eye as his lips moved.

Chen Hexuan’s heart threw itself into chaos.

He leaned down and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb.

At that moment, he finally heard what Qi Yu was crying out: “Senior Brother, it hurts.”

Hearing those words, Chen Hexuan felt as though he were suspended in mid-air, unsure when he would hit the ground.

Then, he fell—plunging into a deeper darkness.

…

Chen Hexuan didn’t know how long he fell until he finally woke up within a point of light.

Upon waking, he still couldn’t recall the dream’s contents. He only remembered a holy, golden pattern—a pattern that felt immensely important.

For some reason, he instinctively walked to his desk and began to draw on a piece of paper.

His memories were like a thick fog; he could only recall a single corner of the pattern. As he drew, his hand suddenly froze. He heard a familiar voice—not mournful, yet it made his heart tighten into a knot.

He focused his mind, listening intently. No matter how many times he heard it, it was always the same: “Senior Brother, it hurts.”

Eventually, the voice vanished, but the agonizing sensation remained, tightly wound around his heart.

Without the voice to distract him, he began to draw again. This time, the pattern he produced felt nearly identical to the one in his dream.

He studied it for a long time and then consulted an encyclopedia of mystical patterns. He found no match.

The winter sun shone through the window onto his neck and back.

After an unknown amount of time, he finally gave up and decided to check the library at the Xingzhou Sect later. He then remembered his well-read friend was still with him.

He took the paper and found his friend, who was busy feeding the crane.

The friend turned and shook his head. “I’ve never seen this pattern. Where did you find it? It’s quite beautiful.”

Chen Hexuan felt a pang of disappointment but smiled anyway. “I saw it in a dream. I can’t remember the details.”

“You didn’t remember the dream? Did you use the incense again?” The friend looked at him curiously. “I took all your incense last night for study. Don’t tell me you had a secret stash.”

“I didn’t use any,” Chen Hexuan paused, equally confused.

If he hadn’t used the incense, he should have remembered the dream. Why was it still a blank? He felt a lingering sense that he had done something wrong, or forgotten something vital.

“Maybe you used it so much before that the medicinal properties are still in your system,” the friend said nonchalantly, returning to his crane. “Anyway, dreams aren’t that important. Forgetting them isn’t a big deal.”

Chen Hexuan nodded reflexively, but as he looked down at the golden pattern on the paper, a wave of unease washed over him. He tried to dismiss it as absurd. His dreams were all about Qi Yu; forgetting them was for the best.

He tucked the paper into his storage space, out of sight and out of mind.

The friend patted the crane’s feathers and looked at Chen Hexuan hesitantly. “Have you asked the Sect Master about these recurring dreams of Qi Yu?”

“No,” Chen Hexuan said. “Since leaving the Demon Palace, too much has happened. I haven’t had the chance to return to the sect to see Master.”

“Then you’d better hurry back,” the friend said with surprise. Seeing Chen Hexuan’s calm gaze, he sighed. “Back then, to protect the other disciples, the Sect Master was injured by Qi Yu. When he heard you had been taken, he was so grief-stricken he went into seclusion for years. He only recently came out.”

Worry lined Chen Hexuan’s face. “How is Master now? Is he alright?”

“How should I know? I’m not his disciple,” the friend said. He paused, then added, “But if I were the Sect Master, I probably wouldn’t be great. Go see him. Ask if he has any clues about your symptoms. He’s lived a long time; he surely knows more than we do.”

“I will. Thank you,” Chen Hexuan smiled.

“Don’t be polite with me; we’ve been brothers for years,” the friend laughed, clapping him hard on the shoulder. “Big Senior Brother, don’t be too stressed. I’ll ask around for you too. If I hear anything, I’ll send word.”

“Alright,” Chen Hexuan clapped back. “You’re not staying a few more days?”

The friend vaulted onto his crane. “I’m not as busy as you, but I do have things to do. I heard there’s a medical immortal living in seclusion where I’m headed. I’ll check in for you.”

“Then, until we meet again,” Chen Hexuan said, watching his friend fly off.

As his friend disappeared into the horizon, Chen Hexuan thought of his Master—the Sect Master of the Xingzhou Sect.

He remembered joining the sect at ten years old. When he was fifteen, his Master brought back a mortal child who had never practiced cultivation—Qi Yu.

Qi Yu had followed behind the Master awkwardly. Chen Hexuan remembered how gaunt and malnourished he looked back then.

Then, his Master had knelt down, taken Qi Yu’s hand, and said gently:

“Qi Yu, don’t be afraid. From now on, this is your home.”

…

The mystery deepens! It seems Qi Yu was using a dangerous cultivation method involving Chen Hexuan’s own energy, and that golden pattern is clearly the key.