Ye Jiuzhou and Ye Xuan

Ye Jiuzhou hovered high in the sky for a full six hours.

He did not go back.

Night had completely fallen, the last ray of the setting sun swallowed by the horizon, and the firmament turned into a bottomless dark blue. Stars gradually emerged, coldly casting down a faint silver glow, plating the surface of the sea of clouds like dark brocade.

He stood on his sword, surrounded by boundless void, with a bottomless abyss beneath his feet.

Ye Jiuzhou closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The high-altitude air was thin and freezing. The moment it poured into his lungs, it was so cold that his internal organs trembled.

But he needed this cold to keep himself awake and clear-headed.

Yet he knew he should go back.

Not out of guilt, not out of longing, and certainly not for that ridiculous, absurd reason in his heart that he absolutely could not admit.

But rather because...

Ye Xuan was alone on that barren mountain without even a decent magical artifact to ward off the cold.

After nightfall, the temperature in the mountains plummeted. His old clothes, thin as cicada wings, couldn't block the chill at all. Moreover, there was no shortage of demonic beasts within a hundred miles. With Ye Xuan's shabby early Foundation Establishment stage cultivation, what if he encountered a fierce Golden Core stage beast...

Ye Jiuzhou suddenly opened his eyes.

He couldn't think about it anymore.

He turned his sword around, transforming into a streak of golden light, and swept back toward that cliff even faster than when he came.

When he returned, Ye Xuan was still sitting by the cliff.

To be precise, Ye Xuan was curled up behind the largest rock by the cliff, leaning against the cold stone wall, wrapped tightly in that tattered coir raincoat, huddled into a ball.

He had already fallen asleep.

The campfire was newly lit, but it burned unevenly.

Beside the fire sat the half-empty jug of strong Shaodaozi liquor, along with two wild birds that hadn't yet been prepared.

Two wild birds.

Ye Jiuzhou looked at the two dead birds with their legs tied by rough straw ropes, and his throat tightened.

Two. Not one.

Even though he had flown away in a fit of pique, even though he had said such harsh words, Ye Xuan had still left a portion for him.

Ye Jiuzhou walked over in silence, took off his outer robe, and gently draped it over Ye Xuan.

His movements were very light, as if afraid of waking something fragile.

Then he sat down on the other side of the campfire, leaned against the stone wall, closed his eyes, and adjusted his breathing.

He did not apologize.

But the next morning, when Ye Xuan woke up wrapped in that priceless outer robe carrying a cold sword aura, he saw Ye Jiuzhou squatting by the fire, clumsily trying to roast those two birds.

This was the first time in Ye Jiuzhou's life that he had ever cooked, and naturally, the roasting was a complete disaster.

Hearing the movement, Ye Jiuzhou didn't even turn his head. His voice was icy:

"Come eat since you're awake. If you don't eat now, it will get cold."

Ye Xuan looked at the two miserably roasted birds, then looked at Ye Jiuzhou's ears, which were flushed purple-red, and the corners of his mouth slowly spread into a grin.

He didn't mention what happened last night.

Not a single word.

He simply took the burnt bird and took a large bite.

The bitter taste of charcoal and the fishy smell of half-raw poultry exploded in his mouth, so awful it made one want to spit out their tongue.

But Ye Xuan chewed very seriously and swallowed hard. After finishing, he even licked his fingers, still wanting more.

"Delicious," he said, smiling until his eyes curved into crescents.

"...Have you lost your sense of taste?" Ye Jiuzhou finally couldn't help but look back at him, the color of his ears deepening.

"No. It's just delicious."

Ye Xuan stood up, patted the dust off his behind, folded the outer robe neatly, and returned it to Ye Jiuzhou.

"Let's go, Brother Ye. There seems to be a market in the city ahead. I heard human voices when I was catching the birds last night. Let's go get some food. As for what you roasted... to be honest... it really isn't very good."

Ye Jiuzhou: "..."

He snatched the outer robe back, snorted coldly, and flicked his sleeves as he strode away.

But his footsteps were much lighter than usual.

Just like that, the two of them continued forward as if nothing had happened.

That conversation on the cliff, those dangerous, boundary-crossing, and forbidden emotions, were tacitly sealed away in the dusk of that sunset.

Neither of them ever brought it up again.

But both of them knew perfectly well in their hearts—

Some things, once they sprout, can never be ignored again.

The following ten years were the days Ye Jiuzhou acted least like a "cultivator" in his entire life. There were no sect rules, no family expectations, no dignity of a Young Palace Master, and no burden of being a born Sword God.

There was only a road that seemed to have no end, a forever-noisy traveling companion, and an endless supply of wild game to roast.

He was used to being high and mighty. He was used to enjoying the best pills, the purest spirit stones, and the most supreme cultivation methods within the Sword God Palace. He was used to everyone revering him like a god, bowing respectfully wherever he went.

But being with Ye Xuan, he was forced to fall into the mortal dust.

Ye Xuan was poor.

He was penniless. And he was righteously proud of his poverty.

To save a few spirit stones, he would drag Ye Jiuzhou to squeeze into the communal sleeping quarters of mortal inns.

These communal beds were of the lowest grade. In a single room, a dozen broken wooden beds were lined up, covered with straw mats thin enough to let light through, and the air was filled with the smell of sweat, foot odor, and the snoring of the uncle next door.

The first time Ye Jiuzhou lay down on one, he was completely stunned.

"You..."

He gritted his teeth, his voice so low that only Ye Xuan could hear: "Do you know that I have three hundred and sixty thousand supreme-grade spirit stones in my spatial ring?"

"That would be such a waste." Ye Xuan had already taken off his shoes and was rubbing his bare feet against the straw mat. Finding the most comfortable position, he sighed with satisfaction. "Communal beds are great, they're lively. Listen, the fat uncle next door even has a rhythm to his snoring."

Ye Jiuzhou looked at his completely at-ease appearance, a breath catching in his chest, unable to go up or down. Finally, he could only lie down through gritted teeth.

He didn't sleep all night.

It wasn't because the environment was poor. With the cultivation of a Soul Formation stage mighty figure, he could enter deep meditation even lying on a mountain of blades or a sea of fire.

It was because after Ye Xuan fell asleep, he rolled over and flung an arm out, landing it squarely across his chest.

Ye Xuan's arm wasn't heavy. It was thin, with distinct joints, and the palm was covered in calluses from practicing the sword.

His fingers curled slightly, unconsciously clutching the fabric of Ye Jiuzhou's robe over his chest.

Ye Jiuzhou's entire body instantly tensed as tight as a bowstring.

His breathing skipped a beat, then quickened in a ridiculous rhythm.

His heartbeat was astonishingly loud in the quiet dead of night, so loud he suspected it would wake everyone in the room.

He should push that hand away.

This would be a normal, rational reaction that a "man" should make.

But he didn't.

He just lay there motionless, feeling the weight and temperature of that arm until dawn.

The next morning, Ye Xuan woke up yawning, completely unaware of what he had done. Ye Jiuzhou, sporting two bloodshot eyes, was expressionless, his voice three degrees colder than usual:

"From now on, you are not allowed to sleep so close to me."

"Huh?" Ye Xuan scratched his head, "What did you say, brother?"

"...Nothing. Let's go."