Confiding

Ye Jiuzhou relied on his remaining spiritual sense to find the inn.

He found Ye Xuan's door.

Then he stood before that door and stopped.

The door was closed. No light seeped through the crack; Ye Xuan must have already fallen asleep.

Ye Jiuzhou stood before the door.

He raised his hand, hovering it over the wooden panel.

He wanted to knock.

Then he lowered it.

Raised it again.

Lowered it again.

He repeated this seven times.

He looked at his hand suspended in mid-air.

This was his, Ye Jiuzhou's, hand.

Slender and fair, with distinct knuckles and neatly trimmed nails, without a single callus on the palm.

These were the hands of a genius sword cultivator, the hands of one who stood above ten thousand others, hands that should never bow to anyone.

But right now, this hand was trembling.

Trembling violently.

As if it were about to fall apart.

He suddenly felt that the act of knocking on a door was harder than any sword strike he had ever delivered in his life.

He rested his forehead against the door.

The rough, cold texture of the pine wood pressed into his skin, bringing a faint, stinging sensation.

He closed his eyes.

The alcohol made his thoughts sluggish and blurred, but this very blurriness dismantled the defenses he kept wound so tightly on ordinary days.

The words he would never allow himself to say when sober, catalyzed by his drunkenness, crawled out from the depths of his throat, word by word.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was very soft.

But in the silent late autumn night, these words were clear to the point of cruelty.

There was no movement inside the door.

Ye Jiuzhou waited for one breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.

Then he said it again.

"Ye Xuan... I'm sorry."

This time, his voice was trembling.

This tremble spread from his throat to his entire body, as if a hand were violently churning his insides.

His nails dug into the wood grain of the door, scraping out tiny splinters. Moonlight fell on his lowered eyelashes, casting a deep shadow beneath his cheekbones.

"I shouldn't have... doubted you."

"That day... at the altar... I had a Soul-Extinguishing Nail in my sleeve."

He said it.

The secret he hadn't had the courage to voice for three years, catalyzed by a jug of Autumn Water White wine, was finally dragged out from the deepest darkness of his heart, exposed beneath the cold moonlight of Moon-Gazing City.

"I had the thought of killing you."

"When you shoved the Phoenix Blood into my hands... I had already channeled spiritual energy into my Soul-Extinguishing Nail. Just a hair's breadth... it was just a hair's breadth away from being unleashed."

"Your back... was so close."

"I only needed... one finger..."

His voice completely shattered.

The last few words were almost spoken in a breathless whisper, mixed with the smell of alcohol and something unrecognizable, wet, and warm.

"Ye Xuan."

"I don't deserve to be your big brother."

"But..."

His lips pressed against the door, the rough wood grain digging into his mouth as his muffled voice traveled inside.

"But I don't want to lose you."

"In this life... you are my only friend."

"Just you."

The moonlight poured down silently.

The sweet fragrance of osmanthus drifted from some courtyard, mixing with the chill of the late autumn night breeze, brushing past his flushed cheeks.

The distant night watchman's drum sounded heavily three times; it was already the third watch.

The entire Moon-Gazing City had sunken into slumber.

Only a thoroughly drunk man remained, leaning against a pine door, speaking words he would never say when sober.

Inside the door.

It was quiet for a long time.

So long that Ye Jiuzhou thought Ye Xuan was truly asleep. So long that he began to consider whether he should turn and leave, pretend none of this had ever happened, and continue being that cold and arrogant Ye Jiuzhou the next morning.

Creak!

The door opened.

The pine hinges let out a soft groan as the door retreated inward.

Moonlight surged into the room through the opening, carving a silver-white band of light across the floor.

Ye Xuan stood in the doorway.

He was wearing a washed-out Daoist robe, his hair loose without a crown, and his eyes were red.

Perhaps he had been awake from the moment Ye Jiuzhou's footsteps appeared in the corridor.

Perhaps he had never fallen asleep at all.

His gaze was incredibly complex.

Those peach-blossom eyes looked exceptionally bright in the moonlight, like two deep pools steeped in lunar glow.

Within them lay three years of silence, three years of grievance, three years of self-suppression.

He looked at Ye Jiuzhou outside the door.

Looked at this man who was usually so aloof, looking down upon the world, and who would never show weakness to anyone.

At this moment, his forehead was pressed against the doorframe, his clothes were wrinkled and stained with wine, his hair hung messily on both sides of his face, his cheeks were flushed with drunkenness, and the corners of his eyes were wet.

Ye Xuan's heart violently twitched.

Three years.

For three years, he thought he had already let it go.

He thought he had allowed that wound to scab over, shed its shell, and grow new flesh. He thought he had learned not to care.

But.

When he saw Ye Jiuzhou standing outside his door, head bowed like a child who had done wrong, saying "I'm sorry" with a trembling voice.

When he heard Ye Jiuzhou say, "I had the thought of killing you."

When he heard, "I don't deserve to be your big brother, but I don't want to lose you."

That wound he thought had healed tore open once more.

Not because of the pain.

But because Ye Jiuzhou was hurting too.

It turned out that for these past three years, it wasn't just him, Ye Xuan, suffering alone.

Ye Xuan looked at Ye Jiuzhou for a long time. A very, very long time.

Long enough for the moonlight to shift from the left side of the doorframe to the right.

Then, he sighed.

He took a step forward.

Stretched out his arms.

And gently embraced Ye Jiuzhou.

His arms wrapped around Ye Jiuzhou's back, his palms resting lightly on his shoulder blades.

Ye Jiuzhou's body stiffened violently the moment they touched.

But Ye Xuan did not let go.

He rested his chin in the crook of Ye Jiuzhou's shoulder and closed his eyes.

He could smell the heavy scent of alcohol on him, mixed with that clear, cold sword intent that had never changed.

Three years.

He hadn't smelled this scent in three years.

Not because they were far apart—they walked together, ate together, and lived together every day.

But because their hearts were far apart, making even this scent feel entirely out of reach.

"Big Brother."

Ye Xuan spoke.

When these two words left his mouth, his voice was somewhat hoarse.

A form of address unspoken for three years, carrying three years of dust and three years of longing, rolled off the tip of his tongue clumsily, with difficulty, yet with absolute certainty.

Ye Jiuzhou's body gave a violent shudder.

That "Big Brother" was like a heavy hammer, smashing ruthlessly into the softest spot of his heart.

All his defenses, all his disguises, all his pride and self-esteem, crumbled like paper walls in the face of these two words.

His knees gave way.

If Ye Xuan hadn't been holding him, he might have collapsed directly onto his knees in the inn's corridor.

Ye Xuan felt the change in his body and unconsciously tightened his grip.

"It is precisely because the cultivation world is cruel and human hearts are unpredictable," Ye Xuan said softly, his voice calm and gentle. "That is why I hoped to have someone to stand side by side with. To entrust my back to him. Without having to worry that he would stab me in the back."

His lips were almost pressed against Ye Jiuzhou's ear, his warm breath brushing past an earlobe that had already turned entirely red.

I don't need you to be invincible in this world.

I only need you to trust me.

Ye Jiuzhou's arms finally moved.

He wrapped them around Ye Xuan's waist.

He hugged him tightly.

Too tightly.

So tight that Ye Xuan felt as if his ribs were about to snap, forcing a muffled groan from his lips. But he didn't push him away.

You're... strangling me...

Ye Jiuzhou did not let go.

His face was buried in the crook of Ye Xuan's neck, a spot that was warm and soft. He could feel the beating pulse of Ye Xuan's carotid artery.

His eyes were closed, and his eyelashes brushed against Ye Xuan's neck, bringing a tingling sensation.

Ye Xuan's body stiffened for a moment.

Ye Jiuzhou muttered something softly. His voice was mostly muffled by Ye Xuan's collar, sounding indistinct.

I trust you.

...What? Ye Xuan hadn't heard clearly.

Ye Jiuzhou did not repeat it.

He lifted his face from the crook of Ye Xuan's neck.

The moonlight fell directly on his face—a face flushed with alcohol, stained with tears, and etched with the exhaustion of three years of torment. He looked into Ye Xuan's eyes.

Those eyes no longer held their usual cold arrogance and sharpness.

There was only intoxication, apology, and a softness that he himself didn't know when had grown.

I trust you.

He said it again.

This time it was very clear. So clear that the outline of every word seemed sharply drawn by the moonlight.

Ye Xuan looked into his eyes for a long time.

Then, he smiled.

Three years of silence.

Three years of cold war.

Three years of grievances.

In this single smile, they all vanished into thin air.

It wasn't that they were forgotten; some wounds would never be forgotten.

The shadow of that Soul-Extinguishing Nail would always remain in a corner of Ye Xuan's heart, occasionally stinging him in the dead of night or during moments of solitude.

But he chose to forgive.

Not because he had no temper.

Not because he was weak.

But because...

During every night he spent staring blankly into space over the past three years, the thing he thought about the most was not how Ye Jiuzhou had almost killed him.

It was the way Ye Jiuzhou squatted on the ground, earnestly drawing diagrams when teaching him formations.

It was the way Ye Jiuzhou extended his hand on the snowy plains, True Fire burning in his palm.

It was the way Ye Jiuzhou narrowed his eyes in delight the first time he ate Beggar's Chicken.

It was the way Ye Jiuzhou carried his unconscious body over three mountains to find spiritual medicine, never stopping even when his white robes were torn by thorns.

Those warm memories carried far more weight than that Soul-Extinguishing Nail.

So, he chose to forgive.

Ye Xuan released Ye Jiuzhou.

He took half a step back.

He looked into Ye Jiuzhou's eyes and said earnestly:

No matter what happens, no matter what you become.

Ye Jiuzhou. You will always be my big brother.

The moment he heard those words.

Ye Jiuzhou's heart violently convulsed.

It wasn't a normal palpitation. It was an intense, agonizing pain erupting from the depths of his soul, threatening to tear him apart.

He looked at Ye Xuan.

Looked at Ye Xuan's clear, unreserved peach-blossom eyes, which reflected the moonlit sky and his entire figure.

He saw himself in Ye Xuan's eyes—a wretched, fragile man stripped of all disguises by alcohol.

Not a genius.

Not the Young Palace Master.

Not the Heavenly Phoenix Sword Bone.

Not the unparalleled under heaven.

Just a man standing under the late autumn moonlight, outside the door of the person he liked, humbly saying I'm sorry...

A man.

At this moment, Ye Jiuzhou finally understood his own heart.

He liked Ye Xuan.

He liked him.

It wasn't the affection between brothers. It wasn't the fondness between friends. It wasn't the mutual appreciation between fellow cultivators.

It was the kind of love where he wanted to touch his cheek, breathe in his hair, and pull him into a tight embrace, never letting go.

It was the kind of love where he wanted to interlock their fingers in the dead of night, watch him smile for a lifetime, and shield him from all the wind, frost, swords, and blades of the world.

He hadn't just started liking him over these past few years.

From the moment that youth stood in the glow of the setting sun, his peach-blossom eyes reflecting his figure.

He had already fallen.

And what had Ye Xuan just said?

You will always be my big brother.

Big brother.

The response he wanted was not just big brother.

But the only thing he could ever get was big brother.

Because in Ye Xuan's understanding.

Ye Jiuzhou was a man.

They were brothers.

And nothing more.

Big brother, huh...

Ye Jiuzhou's lips trembled.

These words slipped from his lips, so faint they were almost soundless.

He lowered his head and looked at his own body.

Broad shoulders. A flat chest. A prominent Adam's apple. Long, powerful limbs.

Defined muscle lines. This was a perfect male physique.

A man's body, completely and irreversibly reshaped by the Yin-Yang Creation Divine Pill, from the bones and flesh to the meridians and the very foundation of his soul.

His hands slowly clenched into fists. His nails dug into his palms, piercing the skin. Blood seeped through his fingers, appearing as a deep, dark red in the moonlight.

A monstrous wave of regret surged from the depths of his chest.

This regret was fierce enough to burn down the world, boiling hot enough to scorch his internal organs.

If I hadn't taken that Yin-Yang Creation Divine Pill.

If I hadn't become a man.

If I were still the Ye Jiuhuang of the past...

Perhaps today, she could rightfully stand before Ye Xuan, tilt her head up, stand on her tiptoes, and gently leave a kiss on the corner of his lips.

No need for reasons.

No need for excuses.

No need for explanations.

It was only natural and right for a woman to love a man.

But now...

He was a man.

Ye Xuan was also a man.

Ye Jiuzhou stood under the moonlight, his shadow dragging lonely behind him.

At this moment.

This Sword Emperor who was destined to dominate an era, whose cultivation reached the heavens, whose talent was peerless, whose looks were unmatched, and who was revered by millions, Ye Jiuzhou...

Had never felt more remorseful than he did today.

For swallowing that Yin-Yang Creation Pill.