The scent of wet earth and broken hearts clung to the morning mist like smoke to a battlefield.
Hei Long stood alone at the edge of the Spiritwell Cliffs, the wind tousling his dark robe.
Beneath his feet, the old stones bore faint traces of talismans burned into them by the spiritual fires of the duel hours before.
What remained of Lin Fan’s pride was probably still staining the moss here.
A faint smile curved Hei Long’s lips.
He hadn’t ant for things to go that far... not at first.
Not with Mu Lanyue.
Not with the way she had looked at him—soft, unsure, full of a curiosity she had long buried beneath her duty as the Frost Sect’s prodigy.
But fate, as always, had a different plan.
One that sang in Hei Long’s blood.
Now she was his. Not in na, not yet in body, but in the way she lowered her gaze when he passed, in the way her hands lingered too long when handing him a cup of spirit tea.
In the way her sword refused to et his in mock duels.
He hadn’t won her. He’d conquered her.
But it wasn’t enough.
He turned, eyes narrowing. The Spiritwell fog had begun to shift unnaturally. Sothing moved beyond the mist—deliberate steps, uneven breathing. And then:
"Hei Long!" a voice cracked with fury and desperation.
Lin Fan.
His robes were soaked again—had he been training in the rain? Crying in it? Or just wandering without purpose, looking for the woman who’d stopped smiling at him?
"I challenge you," Lin Fan growled.
Hei Long raised a brow. "Again?"
"Not for her!" Lin Fan hissed. "For myself! I won’t let you keep doing this!"
Hei Long stepped closer, the fog curling like serpents around his boots. "Doing what, exactly? Winning?"
The silence between them stretched like drawn steel. Lin Fan trembled. Not from cold. Not from fear. From sothing rawer.
"You’re a parasite," Lin Fan spat.
"You worm your way into everything I care about. Lanyue... Lan Yinyin... even Snow, that damn dragon cub—he won’t even co near anymore!"
"He has good instincts," Hei Long said calmly.
"I swear," Lin Fan snarled, "I’ll find soone you can’t touch. Soone pure. Soone beyond you."
Hei Long’s gaze sharpened.
That was the real reason he was here.
Another girl.
Soone else Lin Fan had fallen for.
He could hear it already in Lin Fan’s voice—the bitter tremble, the hollow confidence.
The story was always the sa.
Lin Fan would et her, fall for her, speak poetry into the wind—and then Hei Long would walk by. And it would all unravel.
"I wish you luck," Hei Long said. "You’ll need it."
But he wouldn’t wait for Lin Fan to introduce her.
He’d find her himself.
And he would make sure the next ti Lin Fan gave his heart, it shattered harder than ever before.
The courtyard was quiet.
Too quiet.
Hei Long didn’t like quiet places unless he was the one who silenced them.
His shadow extended behind him, long and forked like the tongue of a serpent, as the twin moons dipped below the clouds.
Most cultivators had long gone to rest, but Hei Long never slept when Lin Fan was scheming.
And he knew Lin Fan was scheming.
He could feel it.
Sowhere in the swirling winds of karma and desire, Lin Fan’s pathetic little heart had begun to beat wildly again—for another girl.
A new obsession.
Another dood romance.
And to Hei Long, that ant one thing: opportunity.
Hei Long stood on the highest balcony of the Black Viper Pavilion, a place forbidden to most cultivators for reasons no one questioned.
From here, the entire southern wing of the Blossoming Jade Sect was visible. Lanterns floated along pathways like flickering stars, illuminating the faces of disciples and inner sect masters alike.
He turned to the shadow beside him.
"Have they found her yet?" Hei Long asked.
The shadow trembled, bowing low.
"Not yet, Young Lord. But Lin Fan has been visiting the Sky Library Pavilion more than usual... and last night, he snuck into the Flowerglass Conservatory."
Hei Long’s lips curled into a slow smirk.
"The conservatory?" he echoed, already piecing it together.
There were only three reasons to sneak into that place. And two of them involved trying to impress a woman.
He began walking.
"Bring her na," Hei Long said lazily. "And don’t co back until you do."
"Yes, Young Lord!"
The shadow vanished into the wind.
Hei Long moved with grace down the stairs, robes billowing like clouds of smoke, the air parting around him as though reality dared not resist his presence.
This wasn’t just sport. This was art. And Lin Fan—well, Lin Fan was the canvas that bled every ti Hei Long picked up his brush.
He descended past the main pavilions, his aura cloaked tightly, stepping lightly until he ca to rest beside a moon gate.
There, two inner sect disciples were whispering behind their sleeves.
"...did you hear? He left her a flower pressed between the pages of a jade scripture..."
"...like, romantically? Lin Fan?"
Hei Long walked past them without a word. But a spark ignited in his chest.
So Lin Fan had already made his move.
Already begun.
It was only two hours later that the shadow returned, bloodied and bruised from sneaking past the conservatory wardens.
"She’s called Xu Qingyue," the shadow rasped, clutching a fractured rib. "Outer disciple. Spirit affinity with water and light. New transfer from the Eastern Lotus Peak. Her talent is average, but her looks—"
"I don’t need a monologue," Hei Long interrupted.
But he was already smiling.
Xu Qingyue.
The na ant Clear Moon Snow.
It sounded delicate. Regal. Like soone who didn’t belong in the dirt with Lin Fan.
Perfect.
Hei Long watched her first from the distance.
Xu Qingyue was beautiful—but not in the exaggerated, world-stopping way so sect maidens were.
She didn’t walk with showy grace or flaunt her cultivation robes. No spiritual beast familiars followed her, no jeweled hairpins cluttered her hair.
She was quiet.
Elegant.
And her smile?
Soft.
Too soft for Lin Fan.
Hei Long watched from the pagoda rooftops as Lin Fan approached her one evening with a slightly rumpled robe, a hopeful look in his eyes, and an obvious lack of plan.
"Qingyue," Lin Fan said, bowing, trying to seem composed.
She looked up from her watering can.
"...Senior Brother Lin?"
"I—uh—this is for you." He held out a tiny jar. "It’s moon dew. From the highest leaf of the Mist Valley Tree. I thought... maybe it’d help your lilies."
Xu Qingyue blinked. Then slowly smiled.
"Oh. Thank you."
Hei Long nearly vomited.
Lin Fan bead like a child given praise for tying his own shoes. He fumbled for sothing else to say. Sothing aningful. Romantic.
"I... also wrote a poem."
Oh heavens.
Xu Qingyue, to her eternal credit, didn’t laugh.
She smiled and took the paper.
As she read it, Hei Long lowered his hood and vanished into the breeze. He had seen enough.
It was ti to intervene.
Hei Long did not show up to her conservatory directly.
He planted seeds instead.
He arranged for Xu Qingyue to be invited to a "Spirit Resonance Lecture" hosted by the Silent Orchid Hall.
She went.
Naturally.
Halfway through, she was asked to share her affinity with water—and it accidentally caused a fountain to explode, showering her with mist and laughter from others.
Hei Long was the one who dried her robes from afar. A simple movent of fingers.
She never knew.
Later that week, her garden was vandalized.
Lin Fan arrived late to help her replant.
Hei Long, however, had already sent a gardener.
A woman with a basket full of rare seeds, claiming they were "gifts from a secret admirer."
Xu Qingyue smiled faintly when she received them.
That smile was the first one Hei Long ever saved for himself.
Hei Long made sure their paths crossed—but always as if by accident.
When she visited the Eastern Peak markets, he was there, buying incense. When she studied by the koi pond, he passed by with scrolls.
Always silent. Always composed. Never once acknowledging her unless she spoke first.
Which she finally did.
"...Are you Hei Long?"
He stopped. Looked at her.
His voice was calm. asured.
"I am."
She hesitated. "I’ve heard... things."
"You’ll hear more before the end."
That puzzled her.
But she laughed.
And in that mont, Hei Long knew the hook had sunk.
Lin Fan was getting anxious.
He brought her more poems.
More offerings.
More awkward confessions.
Xu Qingyue smiled politely.
But she stopped blushing.
Stopped eting him outside her garden.
Then one day—
She asked him, "Have you ever spoken to Hei Long?"
Lin Fan’s heart dropped.
"I—what? Why?"
"I don’t know. He... seems different."
Lin Fan tried to laugh.
"T-that guy? He’s a liar! A manipulator! He’ll use you and throw you away!"
Xu Qingyue tilted her head.
"Is that jealousy I hear, Senior Brother Lin?"
Lin Fan stamred. "I—no, I—"
"I think I’d like to hear it from him myself."
And just like that...
Lin Fan lost the light in her eyes.
Lin Fan began stalking them.
He followed her every movent, hoping to intercept Hei Long’s presence, but Hei Long was always one step ahead. Sotis he was already gone. Other tis, he was right behind Lin Fan, smiling with mild amusent.
At night, Lin Fan dread of Xu Qingyue smiling at Hei Long the way she once smiled at him.
Then one night... it happened.
Lin Fan watched from a bush as Xu Qingyue approached Hei Long at the moon bridge.
"Why do you always vanish?" she asked.
Hei Long didn’t answer.
"Are you afraid of sothing?" she teased.
He stepped closer.
His fingers brushed a petal from her hair.
"I don’t vanish," he whispered. "You just don’t know where to look."
And then—
Then she smiled.
Soft. Genuine.
The smile Lin Fan once thought was his.
It wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Xu Qingyue stopped visiting the conservatory.
She no longer read Lin Fan’s poems.
She sent him one letter.
A kind rejection.
But she didn’t ntion Hei Long.
That hurt more.
She didn’t need to.
Lin Fan scread into his pillow for three hours.
And Hei Long?
He sat at the highest peak of the Blossom Wind Range with Xu Qingyue beside him, her head resting softly on his shoulder, the stars above them like diamonds cast across the sky.
She turned to him and whispered:
"I feel like... I’ve known you forever."
Hei Long’s eyes glinted.
"You have," he murmured. "You just forgot."
Xu Qingyue blinked.
"Is that a line?"
"No," Hei Long said smoothly. "It’s a truth you haven’t unraveled yet."
She smiled.
And sowhere far, far below, Lin Fan was digging up a forbidden soul-altering formation designed to erase a person’s mories of love.
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