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“Mingyan,” Yang Yixuan whines as he ducks behind Liu Mingyan. “That demoness is harassing me again.”
“Yixuan,” Liu Mingyan says, sighing. “Be nice.”
It’s been years since Liu Mingyan and Yang Yixuan were together in the group of cultivators that Sha Hualing kidnapped for Luo Binghe.
Liu Mingyan didn’t think she’d see any more of the boy after that. She knew he was her brother’s first and only personal disciple, but not much beyond that.
But when he showed up on Xian Shu Peak years later, asking for her, just past his coming of age, he looked different. Taller, more composed—but still unmistakably him, with his hair only half-tamed and the corners of his robe slightly uneven.
In his hands, he held a jade token. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of it, smoothing it over and over like a charm meant to ward off rejection.
“I’d like to court you,” he said, voice steady in the way someone might steady a blade before a duel. “If you’ll allow it.”
She blinked. “No.”
It wasn’t cruel. Just honest.
His smile faltered, but only for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he nodded.
“Okay,” he said. Then hesitated. “Can I still get to know you?”
She studied him, then. And shrugged. Surely her brother’s disciple wouldn’t be so disrespectful as to try to push past her refusal.
“If you’d like,” she said.
She expected him to falter again, maybe leave awkwardly, mumbling some excuse. But Yang Yixuan just beamed—relieved, like she’d given him a secret victory.
“I would,” he said, clutching the jade token a little tighter. “Very much.”
Then, as if realizing he was still standing on her threshold, he bowed—deep and a little too fast—and hurried off before she could say anything else.
She watched him go, bemused.
Most would have sulked. Others might have begged. He did neither. Just smiled and accepted her answer like it wasn’t a defeat at all, like any chance to be near her was something worth having.
He didn’t visit her again the next day.
Or the next.
She thought, perhaps, that he’d taken the rejection to heart after all. That his easy smile had been a mask, and he’d come to his senses.
But on the third day, he appeared at the training grounds just as she was finishing her morning practice. He wasn’t watching her, not exactly. He was practicing too—awkwardly, his sword arcs a little too wide, his footing still too loud—but sincerely.
When she passed him, he caught her eye, grinned—and promptly dropped his sword.
“Sorry,” he said, scrambling to pick it up. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
She didn’t answer. Just raised a brow and walked past.
He started appearing more often after that.
Not in the intrusive way some of her past suitors had tried—those who mistook persistence for entitlement. No, Yang Yixuan was different. He never brought flowers or extravagant gifts. Instead, he brought questions. Thoughts. Idle chatter.
Sometimes he had a reason to be near her—curious about a particular formation or asking for critique on a new sword form. Other times, he didn’t. He’d just be there: in the library with a scroll he wasn’t really reading, at the sparring fields conveniently when she was passing by, seated near her at lectures and meetings with just enough distance to be respectful.
He never pushed. Never reminded her of his request. Never asked for more than she was willing to give.
And Liu Mingyan, to her own surprise, didn’t mind.
Years later, after she’d grown used to his presence, she tested him—suggested a particularly grueling mission in the northern peaks. Weeks away. Sub-zero conditions. Dangerous terrain. He volunteered before she’d even finished speaking.
He returned frostbitten, bruised, and half limping, but smiling like the moon had kissed him.
“I brought you something,” he said, pulling out a small, paper-wrapped bundle. “Sweet osmanthus cakes. You mentioned once you liked them.”
She hadn’t remembered saying it.
But apparently, he had.
That night, for the first time, she invited him to stay for tea.
They didn’t speak of courtship. Or feelings. Or anything delicate.
But when he took the cup from her hands, cradling it carefully before giving her that quiet, grateful smile—smaller than usual, but warmer—something in her chest shifted. Subtle. Certain.
It took Liu Mingyan by surprise when Sha Hualing came storming onto Xian Shu Peak the following week.
The demoness had always had a knack for finding her beyond the sect’s borders—on missions, at rogue cultivator gatherings, even once at a secluded tea house halfway across the continent. They’d argue. Occasionally fight. It always ended with a spar, blades clashing under moonlight or midday sun, and Liu Mingyan walking away with a few ruffled hems and mild annoyance.
But Sha Hualing had never come to her.
And certainly not to the heart of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.
So when Sha Hualing strode across the courtyard like she owned it, her robes billowing with barely restrained fury, Liu Mingyan had no idea what to expect.
Until the demoness pointed a finger at her like she was invoking a heavenly tribulation and snapped, “You’re allowing someone to court you?”
Liu Mingyan tilted her head. “Good morning, Sha Hualing.”
Sha Hualing ignored the pleasantry entirely. “You turned down half the cultivators of Huan Hua Palace, refused that rogue cultivator that presented you with a pearl dragon egg, and—and—threw a minor sect heir off a cliff!”
“He landed safely.”
“That is not the point!”
Liu Mingyan raised an eyebrow. “Then what is?”
“The point,” Sha Hualing snapped, “is that you’re letting that boy—that floppy-haired, loud-mouthed, sword-waving disciple—court you?”
There was a pause.
Then Liu Mingyan said, “You came all the way here for that?”
Sha Hualing bristled. “I came here because I—”
She stopped herself. Visibly. Her jaw clenched.
“I came because I find it deeply irresponsible that you’re letting him follow you around like some lovesick puppy,” she said instead. “He’s annoying. Loud. Fragile.”
“He’s loyal,” Liu Mingyan said evenly. “And brave. And smarter than you give him credit for.”
Sha Hualing scoffed. “He once tried to bribe a spirit beast with peaches. Peaches.”
Liu Mingyan arched a brow. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Sha Hualing threw up her hands. “That’s beside the issue.”
“And what is the issue?”
The demoness didn’t answer right away. Her mouth twisted like she was chewing on words too bitter to swallow. Her expression shifted—frustration, disbelief, something more uncertain flickering beneath.
Finally, voice quieter, she said, “I didn’t think you were this easy to impress.”
Liu Mingyan blinked at her. Then blinked again.
“You?” she asked finally, disbelief bleeding into her tone.
Sha Hualing didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze shifted away, jaw tight.
The silence stretched.
Liu Mingyan hadn’t realized—hadn’t even considered—that Sha Hualing’s constant challenges, the sparring, the pointed barbs, the way she always seemed to find her, had meant something else. That beneath all the fire and teeth, there had been want.
“You were interested?” she said slowly, trying the shape of the idea on her tongue.
Sha Hualing crossed her arms, suddenly defensive. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“No?” Liu Mingyan’s voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp now, watching her. “Then how would you put it?”
The demoness looked like she regretted coming the moment she stepped onto the peak. “Forget it. This was a mistake.”
She turned to go.
Liu Mingyan didn’t stop her. Not with words. But she stepped forward, just once—quiet, deliberate.
“You had years,” she said softly. “All that time, and not once did you say anything real.”
Sha Hualing paused mid-step, spine rigid.
“I thought you liked our arrangement,” she muttered. “The fights. The tension. I didn’t think you’d ever actually—”
She stopped again, frustrated. At herself, at Liu Mingyan, maybe at the world.
Liu Mingyan studied her.
She turned Sha Hualing’s words over in her mind—slowly, like a puzzle she hadn’t realized was there until the pieces had already been scattered at her feet.
Liu Mingyan thought about the years of tension between them. The spars that lasted longer than necessary. The petty provocations. The way Sha Hualing always sought her out. And how, in all that time, neither of them had ever truly named what simmered beneath it.
She thought about Yang Yixuan, too. About the awkward way he smiled, and the quiet way he waited. About how, instead of circling her with blades and banter, he’d simply asked.
She exhaled.
“I do like our arrangement,” she said at last, voice measured. “But Yang Yixuan was the one who asked.”
Sha Hualing stiffened. The words landed like a strike—clean, precise, and deliberate.
Liu Mingyan almost thought she’d flee, like a beast wounded deeper than it wanted to admit. It was there, for a moment, in the flicker of uncertainty across her face.
But instead, Sha Hualing turned around. Lifted her chin.
“And if I asked now?” she said.
Liu Mingyan stared at her.
“I’m not turning down Yang Yixuan, Sha Hualing.”
Her voice wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t soft either. It was steady—the kind of steadiness that could split stone if pressed hard enough.
Sha Hualing flinched, just barely. Her eyes flicked to the side, then back. She crossed her arms, uncrossed them. Exhaled, sharp and frustrated, like something inside her was refusing to stay buried.
“I never said you had to,” she muttered.
Her gaze dropped for a heartbeat. Then she forced it back up, held it.
“I just—” Her jaw tensed. “I’m willing to share. If he is, too, then… would you?”
The last words came out quieter. Not fragile, but exposed.
“Would you take me?”
It wasn’t said with her usual confidence. There was no smirk. No flick of her wrist. No circling like a predator trying to provoke a reaction. Just the question, suspended between them like a lit fuse—short, sparking, and seconds from detonation.
Liu Mingyan didn’t answer right away.
It was hardly unheard of. Her own brother was courting Shen Qingqiu while the latter was already married to Luo Binghe. In their world, love didn’t always come with clean lines or easy answers.
But this wasn’t about precedent. Or propriety.
This was Sha Hualing.
A demoness who fought with flirtation and bared her feelings with the same sharp edge she used in combat. Who had never asked before. Who was asking now.
Liu Mingyan exhaled slowly, folding her hands behind her back to still their tension.
“You’re not an easy person,” she said, carefully.
“I’m aware,” Sha Hualing said flatly.
“And you’re not good at sharing.”
Sha Hualing’s lips twisted into something almost-smile, almost-wince. “Also true.”
Liu Mingyan tilted her head. “But you’re still offering.”
Sha Hualing didn’t look away this time. “Yes.”
And that, Liu Mingyan realized, meant more than the question itself.
“I’ll have to talk to Yang Yixuan,” she finally said.
Sha Hualing’s shoulders shifted—something between a shrug and a flinch. “Of course.”
She tried to sound indifferent, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. She was bracing herself for rejection, even now, even after laying herself bare.
Liu Mingyan watched her for a moment longer, then added, “But if he agrees… I won’t say no.”
That stilled the air between them.
Sha Hualing blinked, like she hadn’t expected that much. Like she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or suspicious.
Then she closed her eyes. “I could’ve had you all to myself if I’d asked first, couldn’t I have?”
“There’s no use dwelling on what-ifs,” Liu Mingyan said evenly.
“Of course there isn’t,” Sha Hualing said, almost too quickly.
She sighed, the sound sharp in the still air, then turned to go. Her back was straight, movements composed—but Liu Mingyan could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her steps weren’t quite as fluid as usual.
“I’ll find you,” Sha Hualing said, pausing just at the edge of the courtyard. “Next time you leave the sect.”
Her voice was softer now, as though she were already bracing for the answer.
“Let me know what he said then. And if it’s a no…”
She didn’t turn around.
“I won’t find you again.”
Then she stepped past the threshold and was gone, leaving behind the scent of cold wind and the weight of things that might have been.
Liu Mingyan stood still for a long time, watching the place where Sha Hualing had disappeared.
Then, quietly, she turned and went to find Yang Yixuan.
It had been a yes.
Not the dramatic kind, not rushed or impulsive, but something quieter. Steady. Solid in the way that only Yang Yixuan could be.
He’d listened without interrupting as Liu Mingyan explained—not just the facts, but the shape of it all. The way Sha Hualing had looked at her. The weight behind the question she’d finally dared to ask. The years between them that had been more than animosity, though neither of them had admitted it until now.
Yang Yixuan hadn’t looked angry. Or betrayed. He just… listened. Like he always did.
Then he tilted his head and asked, “Would you regret it? If you turned her down?”
Liu Mingyan didn’t answer right away. She didn’t have to. He could already see the truth in her silence.
Still, she said it anyway. Because he deserved that.
“Yes,” she told him. “I think I would.”
He didn’t smile right away. Didn’t joke or tease or deflect like he often did when something hurt.
Instead, he nodded, slowly, and reached for her hand.
“I want you to be happy,” he said. “If that means sharing… then I can do that.”
It wasn’t said like a sacrifice. It was said like a promise.
Liu Mingyan squeezed his hand in return, silent for a moment. Then, with a dry sort of fondness, she said, “You know she’ll try to fight you.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Yang Yixuan said brightly. “I’ve been saving a new move just for her.”
Liu Mingyan laughed—quiet, unexpected—and shook her head.
Somehow, she thought, this would work.
Not because it was simple.
But because they all wanted it enough to try.
That was years ago.
And this is now, with Sha Hualing barging into Liu Mingyan’s quarters minutes after Yang Yixuan.
The door slams open hard enough to rattle the hinges.
“Come on,” she says, already striding in. “Hiding behind Mingyan again?”
Yang Yixuan yelps. “Mingyan, she’s doing it again!”
“I’m not doing anything,” Sha Hualing says airily, folding her arms. “I’m saying hello.”
“You tackled me outside!”
“Affectionately.”
Liu Mingyan doesn’t look up from her book. “Yixuan, inside voice, please.”
Yang Yixuan peeks at Sha Hualing from behind Mingyan, suspicious. “She’s been trying to kidnap me again. Playfully, she says.”
Sha Hualing tilts her head and smiles—not her usual smug smirk, but something more pointed. “You didn’t mind last time.”
His ears turns pink. “That’s not the point.”
“It is the point,” Sha Hualing says, stepping closer. “You squeaked when I grabbed your sleeve. And you didn’t run very fast.”
Liu Mingyan turns a page without looking up. “Hualing.”
“What?” the demoness says innocently. “I’m just saying, if he’s going to call it harassment, he should at least try to get away properly.”
Yang Yixuan groans. “She’s worse now that she likes me.”
Sha Hualing blinks, then scowls. “Who said I like you?”
“You’re threatening me less. That’s how I know.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it again.
Liu Mingyan looks up at last, eyes amused. “You’ve been circling him like a bird eyeing a shiny coin. Admit it already.”
“I do not circle.” Sha Hualing crosses her arms. “And he’s not shiny. He’s loud.”
“And you like it,” Yang Yixuan says smugly.
She narrows her eyes at him. “Say that again, and I will hex your robes to vanish in public.”
He immediately ducks behind Liu Mingyan again. “Mingyan, she’s flirting aggressively.”
“She’s always flirted aggressively,” Liu Mingyan says mildly. “You just used to think she was trying to kill you.”
“I was trying to kill him,” Sha Hualing mutters.
“You’re not anymore,” Liu Mingyan says, taking a sip of her tea.
That shuts them both up for a moment.
Yang Yixuan gives a sidelong glance to Sha Hualing, expression complicated. “You know I’m not the type to get scared off, right?”
Sha Hualing hesitates. Just for a moment. Then she scoffs, flicks her hair over her shoulder, and says, “Well, good. I’d hate to waste effort.”
Liu Mingyan watches them both with something unreadable in her gaze, the edges of her lips curving just slightly.
It isn’t traditional. Or balanced. Or easy.
But it is something real.
And it’s theirs.