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Chapter Text

The Imperial Courts were a scary place. The scariest of all, the organisation behind Helian Yi’s faction; Tian Chuang.

At a young age, Zhou Zishu, manor lord of the Four Seasons Manor, was forced into the service of his cousin. His 81 disciples followed him with no questions or doubt; wherever their shixiong went, they’d follow.

Zhou Zishu had never felt so unworthy of their trust, as he watched Jiu Xiao’s lifeless body lying limp on the ground. He neither cried nor did he spiral into despair. Zhou Zishu stared numbly at the body and nothing more. His heart felt strangely withered, devoid of… anything.

Yet no one could blame him when he turned and walked away. Zhou Zishu felt tired. With each step towards his bed chambers, his heart grew heavier and heavier; yet he did not know why or what that heaviness indicated.

He didn’t try to understand this heaviness either, for all his progress in suppressing his feelings during his years in Tian Chuang might go in vain. But he knew he was having enough of anything and everything.

Zhou Zishu sat by his desk and stared at his wrist again. He snorted without humour. He was a feared assassin, people loathed him; they couldn’t wait for his demise. So explain to him why would his wrist be ingrained with such words?

For all his years of living, he could never wrap his mind around the person who was his soulmate- to start, did he even deserve one?

All the sins he had committed, the lives he’s taken. The heavens were just too cruel to his apparent ‘other half’, perhaps. Who would ever deserve this lowly excuse of a human being, assassin killer, as a soulmate? They must be crazy.

Zhou Zishu hoped he would never meet his soulmate, either it was for himself or that person. He didn’t deserve someone to be by his side, nor did his soulmate deserve to hold a pair of hands that were stained with blood.

Oh, how cruel the heavens were; how absurd everything was.

Zhou Zishu laughed as he stared at the seven nails in the opened drawer of his desk and picked one up. He inspected it; the rust on the nails was disgusting- to think he wanted to nail his meridians with these… could he not at least clean it up first?

Ah, well, whatever. The more pain the better; he deserved it, after all.

To hell with it.

Echoes of suppressed groans and screams echoed in the empty halls of Tian Chuang, but no one questioned it. Tian Chuang was, after all, a place filled with nothing but agony. What was a little pain worth questioning for, right?

If that muffled cry for help were to continue for the next year and a half, by then, people would’ve already been used to it. That was, if they had heard the cry at all.

It was just another boring day in the Ghost Valley. Wen Kexing stood in the centre as multiple ghosts surrounded him, ready to take his life.

The valley master only yawned and fanned himself leisurely. He strolled over to one ghost and patted his head, only to be met with a knife, daring its way to his neck.

Wen Kexing laughed and dodged the blade with grace that made him look far too casual, and it was then that it had been made clear that no amount of ghosts would be of match to the menace.

“I really appreciate your effort,” he said, keeping track of their movements at the corner of his eye. “I really do. You’ve put in so much effort in planning out this evening, I’m almost moved to tears!” he giggled, maybe sounding just a tad bit unhinged, but just to… spice things up.

Wen Kexing concluded these ghosts were newcomers, since no ghost who had been living here since his time as valley master would dare assassinate. Even if they did, it would’ve probably been more well planned out. He had stated that he didn’t mind people ganging up on him, nor did he limit them to using a certain method. But he did not tolerate assassination. It was just as ugly and disgraceful.

Of course, if they succeeded in assassinating him, he had no other words to say. But if they failed… Well, who knows?

Wen Kexing had always been open to honest challenges. If these ghosts were to challenge for the title of valley master, he would gladly give them the chance of dying peacefully. Too bad… It really was a regret that none had ever chosen for a fair fight, and now they had to end up bowing down to him again, begging for the mercy they knew would not be heard.

Wen Kexing gently traced his slender fingers across the throat of a ghost, torturously slow. It seemed as though he was purposely extending the moment just to ingrain this fear into their very bones.

The ghost paled and shuddered weakly as his neck was wrapped by those delicate yet dangerous hands. He could barely get a noise out before his windpipes were crushed to pieces with an iron grip; the rest of the ghost’s accomplices could only dig their heads into the ground, or smash their heads repeatedly; until blood was dripping, skull was smashed. Even so, the valley master would pick them up one by one and present them with their long due painful death.

Cold laughter sounded through the entire experience. Ghosts who had been long accustomed to the valley master’s insanity ignored it, while others hid in their own residence. No one dared half a step out that night. It was perhaps one of the few rare, most peaceful nights the valley had gotten in the past years.

But while everyone else was too much of a coward to come out, the silence forced Wen Kexing into thinking, staring and mocking himself. Wen Kexing glared daggers into his wrist as if it could change anything. He deserved this anyway; he didn’t need a soulmate. His actions couldn’t be justified no matter what; he hated the world, and the world hated him.

If there was only hatred in his life- if the only thing supporting his life was hatred, why then would he need any soulmate? He was undeserving either way, and he was sure if he had a soulmate, they would deserve so much better than to have someone like him.

Wen Kexing didn’t have a soulmate, and he didn’t need one.

When they met eyes, Wen Kexing instantly felt something clawing at his chest. And when the stranger on the street evaded A-Xiang’s attacks with what seemed to be the Swift Moving Steps, Wen Kexing was instantly intrigued by this stranger.

So what if he stalked bumped into the stranger at the Mirror Lake Sect? He was only curious, nothing more and nothing less.

Somehow, that curiosity turned into something unnamable as they spent more and more time together. And when Zhou Zishu coughed out blood during his fight with some lowly beggars, Wen Kexing could only feel the gnaw of bloodlust running wild in his mind. Ways to torture the beggars springing up in his mind rapidly, only releasing his restraint when Zhou Zishu was gone.

No one could touch what was his.

Wen Kexing suppressed a grimace and mocked himself; as if Zhou Zishu was his, as if he deserved the man. Everything turned into a blur. Only when he finished had he found the dozens of bodies lying before his feet.

Zhou Zishu was not his. There was absolutely no reason to stay with the man, really. But once a ghost had found a path back to the human realm, they could no longer go back to be a ghost. And Wen Kexing wondered if getting close with Zhou Zishu was ever a good idea.

It didn’t matter, though. Wen Kexing was already in this, too deep to back out now. He knew he would never have a soulmate, as his wrist had suggested. But that didn’t matter, either. He would do anything to stay in the warmth he felt whenever he was with his Ah-Xu.

He wondered if killing Zhou Zishu’s soulmate would make the man want him then, when there would be no other people to turn to. But Ah-Xu wouldn’t appreciate that, would he?

Wen Kexing could only turn his face away when his self-proclaimed soulmate directed a smile at him. Zhou Zishu’s smiles were his favourite, even though they would always be fake, filled to the brim with annoyance. He wondered if he deserved it. But deserving or not, Wen Kexing had already fallen, and he fell hard.

Wen Kexing had fallen for a smile that would never be his to take.

“You’re actually crazy.”

Wen Kexing couldn’t help the betrayal he felt, like a spear pierced right through his heart. He was in no position to pursue, apologise, or whatever that would make Zhou Zishu talk to him again, though. And he was fine, he really was. He should have expected this from the beginning, anyway. Wen Kexing knew Zhou Zishu would never be his; he knew Zhou Zishu would grow tired of him; he knew Zhou Zishu would grow to loathe him, just as the entire world did.

He was in no position to apologise or beg for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve that kindness. Wen Kexing didn’t matter. He didn’t know what entity possessed him that allowed him to hope; hope that would only bring disappointment, eventually.

It was fine, Wen Kexing would always be in the best interest of Zhou Zishu. No matter what the other decided, he would respect and relent. If Zhou Zishu wanted him gone from his life, if Zhou Zishu never wanted to see him again then-!!

Then, as much as it would hurt, Wen Kexing would leave Zhou Zishu to be.

So it wasn’t his fault when Zhou Zishu appeared next to him again. And if he felt slightly relieved to know his Ah-Xu was back at his side, it instantly crumbled when he reminded Zhou Zishu that the people he too had killed were not all bad people.

Zhou Zishu left with hurt apparent in his eyes, and the mantra of ‘I caused it’ repeated in Wen Kexing’s head without stopping. Not that the last time he hurt Zhou Zishu wasn’t his fault. In fact, all arguments they had until now were all his fault. It was always his fault and he would willingly admit it, it had always been him that had caused Zhou Zishu’s suffering.

He had enough. He was done with the world. Wen Kexing had decided to end things now, so he wouldn’t have to be drowned in his misery for long. Before letting himself any chance of resting, Wen Kexing gathered all his ghosts and went psycho.

If fate were cruel enough that he was not given a soulmate, then that meant he did not need one. And he refused to want one now, when his plan for revenge was so close to his reach.

Wen Kexing buried all his desires and focused solely on one thing; to keep himself busy so that it could distract him from any thoughts of Zhou Zishu. He laughed, and they trembled. Good to know he hadn’t lost his edge to Ah-Xu’s light.

…

Wen Kexing didn’t understand. He was confused. He had never been so confused in his life before. Why wasn’t he leaving Zhou Zishu, when his heart had resolved into revenge? Why could Zhou Zishu still trust him, still punch him lightly by his heart and tell him he was the person he recognises?¹

Suddenly all the thoughts on revenge vanished from his mind when Zhou Zishu turned to him with a very genuine smile. And he thought, at that moment, that the world did not matter when he could be with Zhou Zishu.

Wen Kexing thought he was not deserving of this kindness. He didn’t know if he was deserving of Zhou Zishu’s endless patience with him. But if it was given to him, he would greedily soak it in until it was all dried up.

Because Wen Kexing was selfish, he didn’t know if he would ever give Zhou Zishu away again. Not after losing once, not after tasting life without his self-proclaimed soulmate.

He couldn’t ever imagine a life without Zhou Zishu again.

He didn’t know how it started, but somehow it went from Zhou Zishu’s tips of disguising to their soul marks. It was probably Wen Kexing’s curiosity in how the other man covered his, but who cares for the details?

They went through a lot, from all sorts of mistakes Wen Kexing made, arguments that ended up making Zhou Zishu wanting nothing to do with him anymore. Yet forgiveness from the same person who would no doubt end up back with him again; forgiveness that till now he still believed he did not deserve.

But all the heartbreak led them to this peaceful moment, where none of the outside affairs would bother them. They were back home, and they would be safe here, in the Four Seasons Manor.

“A-XuUuUUuUuu,” Wen Kexing whined.

Zhou Zishu chuckled and cast his gaze down, lashes shadowed over his eyes, and all of a sudden, he looked like a jade statue, like a painting. Wen Kexing felt his breath hitched; Zhou Zishu’s beauty could not be compared to any other. At that moment, he looked so beautiful and tranquil that Wen Kexing wanted time to stop just so he could stare at this A-Xu for all of eternity.

His heart stuttered when Zhou Zishu looked up at him, eyes filled with a tenderness that he knew he didn't deserve. His chest constricted when his Ah-Xu querked the corner of his lips, lips Wen Kexing so desperately wanted to kiss, to treasure, and to keep.

Is it fine that I want to have you, even when you have your own soulmate, when you have someone to be with for the rest of your life? While I… while I am destined to be deservingly alone?

He was so deep in his trance, he nearly didn’t hear what Zhou Zishu said next.

“Does it matter what my mark says? I might just die before they even get to say it.”

Wen Kexing stood up very abruptly and silenced Zhou Zishu with a stern gaze. His eyes were so dark as if he was swallowing all the light in the world.² And if Zhou Zishu’s lips quivered and let out a tiny whimper out of the dominating stare he was subjected upon, Wen Kexing hadn’t noticed.

Pinned by the stare, it didn’t help him at all when Wen Kexing leaned towards him and cupped his cheeks so gently that his heart ached. Zhou Zishu didn’t know why his heart ached though, but perhaps it was because of the melancholy and desperation he could see in Wen Kexing’s eyes, underneath countless layers of masks.

The contrast in his eyes and his action made his heart race. How could such a person exist? Someone who would let him relinquish control, care for him, and give him the freedom he had wanted since young.

Zhou Zishu knew that he perhaps didn’t deserve a soulmate. But what Lao Wen gave him made him hope they could work through it together. And if the menace Wen Kexing was too stubborn to see that they were not bad people, Zhou Zishu would guide him through everything to realise that they both could have each other. If that's what his Lao Wen wanted as well.

Wen Kexing was so close to him that he could feel the breath of the other man. Zhou Zishu didn’t know if he did it on purpose to get some sort of reaction out of him, but he felt his heart speeding, cheeks flushing under the care of whom he hoped was his soulmate. And even if fate hadn’t made them soulmates, Zhou Zishu would damn fate. Because in his heart, this beautiful man in front of him was already his soulmate.

Zhou Zishu wanted, and he wants. He wants anything Wen Kexing would give him, and he wants and wants and wants. He hoped Wen Kexing felt the same.

“I will take away all your pain. I will make sure you live. I will save you. No matter what.” Wen Kexing was so gentle with him, his voice silky and comforting. As if he knew what Zhou Zishu was thinking. As if telling him he would give him anything. As if he was the most precious thing in Wen Kexing’s life.

Zhou Zishu shuddered, and his quivering lips tilted up. He sighed, tension escaping his body, and leaned into the touch of the warm hands on his cheek. Zhou Zishu closed his eyes and let himself drown in the bliss of this moment.

“Nn”

When Zhou Zishu saw Wen Kexing in red eyeliner, his heart nearly stopped. The coldness, the half-heartedly suppressed bloodlust swirled in his eyes, all made his desires flare.

Zhou Zishu decided he really, really wanted to be held in the valley master’s strong arms, intoxicating himself in his earthy scent that was tainted with traces of rust.

“Shixiong, these are the children Brother Han trusted me with before he died. I accepted them into the manor before asking you; it was his wish they were accepted into the manor, and it is my wish as well.”

Though Zhou Zishu heard nothing past Wen Kexing’s first word, his mind was still looping at the moment he was called ‘shixiong’. He couldn’t describe in words how happy he was to finally be accepted by his shidi (he can finally call him shidi without being smacked!!!).

“This unworthy second disciple of Four Seasons Manor greets the manor lord.”

At this point, Zhou Zishu could just die in contentment. He would ask for no more from the world now that his shidi came back to him.³

They returned to their temporary residence and lived happily ever after. The end.

“You are my person”

Wen Kexing chuckled; now he felt bad, to deceive his shixiong right after having him back. Technically, he didn’t deceive Zhou Zishu, though. He had just said nothing on the matter. Still, to hear his A-Xu say something so possessive… Now no amount of ghosts could deter his good moods.

Now that Wu Xi had given them cure to Zhou Zishu’s Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns, they would have more time together. They could enjoy every day in each other’s presence, and Wen Kexing dared to hope for happiness with this person.

Wen Kexing made a promise in his heart; he would return to his Ah-Xu as soon as he had taken his revenge for his parents. Then, they could retire peacefully, away from the mess in jianghu, back in their own manor.

He was already impatient for that future he hoped for, from the prospect of it.

Never had he imagined Zhou Zishu would remove the nails in his body- for him . When Ye Baiyi came in and told him of the news, he had no time to even mourn for his baby sister, A-Xiang and her newlywed husband.

“I have a method to save him, but… it’s at the cost of your life. Are you willing to do that?”

Of course, of course Wen Kexing would do anything to save Zhou Zishu. If Zhou Zishu asked, he would very literally flip oceans and move mountains for him. What’s this insignificant life of his to fuzz about?

Hope blossomed in his chest, and he turned to face Ye Baiyi. “More than anything I could ask for.”

Ye Baiyi smiled (what a lunatic, more so than Wen Kexing) and nodded, “good answer.” He said with melancholy over decades old, contrasting the glee on his face. No one could understand it. The loneliness of an immortal was something a mortal could never comprehend, after all. Wen Kexing ignored it; he was in debt to the old monster, sure. But his priority was still laid in Zhou Zishu.

Ah-Xu would always be his priority over anything.

“I’ve never failed anyone in my life. I said I will save Zhou Zishu, and I will.” Ye Baiyi said, gaze hardening, focusing on Wen Kexing’s face as if he was searching for some hint… perhaps of doubt. When he saw none, he smiled again. “I will transfer my Combined Six Cultivation Power to you.”

He could only nod when Ye Baiyi rearranged them into proper lotus meditating positions. Zhang Chengling, Wu Xi and Jing Beiyuan stepped out, feeling the immense pressure of qi radiating out from the transfer.

Wen Kexing was assured that despite losing his five senses during the practice, he would regain them in the end.

When Wen Kexing opened his eyes again, Ye Baiyi turned completely still, hair white as snow. It really showed his essence of an immortal- it was something that could just be seen from the way he carried himself; the way he looked. And despite their many fights, Wen Kexing couldn’t help but feel more gratitude for the old man. And at the moment, respect.

He had no time to mourn again. Wen Kexing barged out of the door, feeling energised as if none of the battle prior had happened. Zhang Chengling was immediately by his side, but was rudely brushed off when Wen Kexing raced towards the Scorpion’s hideout. It was only by chance that he caught them before they left for the armoury.

Wen Kexing let Zhou Zishu finish his business with the leader of Tian Chuang. He waited until the idiot Zhou Zishu’s avalanche rained down on them.

Everyone was evacuating, all except his stupid shixiong. Wen Kexing sighed exasperatedly, mouth twisted into a thin line despite his amusement at his surprisingly stupid soulmate (he was still somewhat reluctant in calling Zhou Zishu that, but figured he might as well entertain his wishes before he died). His mind chanting ‘stupid’ over and over with fondness. Soft, as Zhou Zishu was the most precious person in his life.

He wrapped an arm around Zhou Zishu’s slim waist as he thrust his jade hairpin-disguised key into the lock, before rushing into the protection of the armoury.

Wen Kexing couldn’t help himself but scold Zhou Zishu (it was cute how he looked so lost and sorry), like the housewife he was. “What about the promise of living and dying together?”

Zhou Zishu only looked down and pouted. Wen Kexing secretly revelled in how cute his A-Xu was acting today.

“How did you find this place?”

Wen Kexing instantly felt annoyed again and rolled his eyes. “Nonsense; as if I could find you if I hadn’t followed them.”

Then he turned his attention to the rest of the armoury. Glazed in white. It was indeed a great place to cultivate; he decided. No wonder his predecessors had spent so much time here.

“Then what about the hairpin…”

Wen Kexing sighed. As much as a delight as his Ah-Xu was today, this was truly getting a bit annoying. He turned around. “You stupid? As if I would carry around the key to the armoury on me when I was going to fake my death. If not you, who else was I supposed to give it to?”

Zhou Zishu smiled a little. “Then… What if I hadn’t brought it with me? Wouldn’t this all be for nothing?”

Wen Kexing nearly laughed at the hilarity of that; do you even realise what you’re asking, Ah-Xu?

“You’re here to die, of course you’re going to take it with you.” Wen Kexing stated with such certainty as if he was challenging if the world had anyone who knew Ah-Xu better than he did. “If it wasn’t for the old monster…” he paused, shaking his head before continuing, “have you ever thought about what I would do after learning the truth? So what, even if you’re not afraid of death, am I?”

Wen Kexing huffed and turned to walk towards the entrance, Zhou Zishu trailing a step behind.

“Don’t light the candles.” Zhou Zishu warned.

Wen Kexing chuckled and ignored him, lighting the candle anyway. “What are you scared of? If Rong Xuan and the others had been in here for years, that means there must be air passageways in here.”

Zhou Zishu huffed and looked the other way. Wen Kexing snorted again. “I thought you’re not scared of death? So now you don’t want to die?”

Zhou Zishu smiled to himself. “If one can live well, why choose to die?”

Wen Kexing smiled. Even this was Ah-Xu’s wish; to live. He was reassured then that what he would do was right.

“Besides, wasn’t that before meeting you?”

And… gone. Wen Kexing hesitated, questioning himself if he had truly made the right choice. It flashed by his face so quickly that one might only recognise it as an illusion, a trick in the lights.

He pushed down the guilt he felt sizzling beneath his skin and went to catch up with Zhou Zishu. They strolled forward into the armoury for a while, and coincidently (oh, truly, what a coincidence), Wen Kexing came across the Yin Yang Manual.

Transferring this cultivation means your meridians will be withered and broken, before long will you die of depleted qi. He remembered Ye Baiyi mentioned something along that line. He wondered if there would be a way to fix his meridians in the Yin Yang Manual.

Wen Kexing looked at Zhou Zishu’s back; that was the man that taught him to hope again. So many fortunate things had happened to him recently despite also coming with a price; he wondered if he would use up his luck after this.

He doubted the Yin Yang Manual could do anything to save him, but if there’s just the slightest chance…

Wen Kexing called for Zhou Zishu and threw the manual at him, telling him to take care of it as it could probably come in handy. A silent plea for help lingered on the tip of his tongue.

They flirted, joked with each other for what seemed forever. It’s ironic how, when with the right person, time would seem to go agonisingly slow, yet frustratingly fast. Like they could never get enough of each other, no matter how much time would be given.

Wen Kexing explained to Zhou Zishu what would come in cultivating Combined Six Cultivation Power; the loss of five senses and the result of immortality and the consequence of eating ice and drinking snow. Everything, Wen Kexing said everything as if he would never get a chance to warn A-Xu ever again. Yet Ah-Xu listened tentatively, nodding once or twice to show he had understood.

Wen Kexing nearly felt bad for exploiting Zhou Zishu’s trust this way; nearly. If not for his assurance that he indeed wanted to live moments prior, perhaps Wen Kexing would’ve stopped and confessed. But now… now, it was too late already.

Their palms met each other as intense qi surrounded their bodies. Dense like a solid, they tangled with each other.

Zhou Zishu had his eyes closed tightly. Wen Kexing called after him for a while, before deeming him deaf enough to confess what he was actually doing.

He remembered telling Ah-Xu how nice it was to have someone’s name to call after. Wen Kexing was grateful to know in the last moments of his life that at least he knew there would always be someone he could call after, someone he could treasure without a care in the world.

Call him selfish. He knew he still didn’t deserve his shixiong. He didn’t think he would ever be deserving.

His shixiong was the kindest soul ever. Wen Kexing wondered if, after this, his shixiong would still forgive him. Perhaps he wouldn’t, and that was fine. For all he knew, Zhou Zishu might be devastated to know Wen Kexing had decided without his knowledge, or he would be angry at Wen Kexing for leaving him behind, alone.

But Wen Kexing was selfish. He wished for his Ah-Xu’s happiness, yet he also didn’t want to live a life without Ah-Xu. To finally be able to save his life; something Wen Kexing had been trying for so long, he couldn’t help but be overjoyed.

And if Zhou Zishu woke up to hate him, Wen Kexing would swallow all his sorrow and be relieved to know his Ah-Xu was alive and well (what a blind child, can’t even see Ah-Xu won’t live without him).

He poured his heart out to the Zhou Zishu that could no longer hear him. A tear fell from his eyes as he conveyed the gratitude he felt.

Wen Kexing never felt deserving of Zhou Zishu’s kindness. He never thought he would, and he knew he never would be. But as unworthy as he was, Zhou Zishu still embraced him in warmth. The sweetness of that warmth which he hadn’t felt since his parent’s death. He thanked him for the glimpses of happy childhood memories that made him understand what happiness could be like. He thanked him for the patience when the elder held him in his arms as he recalled and uncovered every traumatic story of his past.

He thanked him for the unconditional love he was given, despite the many heartbreaks he had caused. Wen Kexing knew it was hard for his shixiong to put up with someone like him. It didn’t matter, however, when his shixiong would smile at him and tell him he was important, he was significant and he mattered.

He mattered.

And perhaps Zhou Zishu had acknowledged him as his soulmate, but Wen Kexing knew better. No matter what, they were never meant to be. Fate was never wrong. There was no doubt a person would always end up with their fated person.

Wen Kexing had no fated person, so naturally, this meant Zhou Zishu could never be his. No matter how much he wished otherwise.

But despite lacking fate, Wen Kexing still cherished this man dearly. He would gladly serve up his life to protect Zhou Zishu for the rest of eternity. They were not fated for each other, and Wen Kexing was fine with that as long as he got to know A-Xu would not die.

Wen Kexing smiled; and with tears barely held together at the corner of his eyes, he took in a breath.

“    Love you    ”

His lips trembled, his voice barely above a whisper; it was already so broken from the never-ending gratitude he had for Zhou Zishu. Yet it conveyed all of his emotions; all the affection, all the fondness in his heart, and all the frustration he carried throughout the years; let out in a breath.

And he felt strangely light, before pushing every qi he had into his shixiong.

To hold your heart in my arms is what I wish.

Yet the attempts in vain let me perish. ⁴

Zhou Zishu opened his eyes to one Wen Kexing that was sitting far too still to his liking, hair too white for comfort, and face too peaceful to… well, stay calm.

He was not calm, not when Lao Wen lied to him. Again.

Zhou Zishu had a soulmate. He didn’t need one. Yet when they presented themselves to him, Zhou Zishu was too greedy to let go, yet too scared to make them stay.

He stared at his wrist and cried silently.

He hadn’t even got the chance to hear his Lao Wen say it, those words he had been desperate, yet dreading to hear.

Why was his soulmate such a fool?

Zhou Zishu cradled his cheeks gently, so gently it hurt him physically. His voice was barely above a whisper, and it cracked. Hushed tears rolled down his cheeks.

“You’re so stupid”