Gu Chengyin looked down at the immortal in his arms.
He could feel the face pressed against his chest, its temperature rising.
It was not the usual warmth, but an abnormal heat, as if something were burning in her blood.
The air began to grow thick, saturated with an ambiguous, intimate atmosphere.
Lin Qingyan’s breathing grew heavier, brushing against the side of his neck, carrying a faint, elusive fragrance.
The hand that had been clutching his robe loosened, then climbed to his shoulder, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the back of his neck.
Gu Chengyin was no callow youth; he knew what this meant.
This was an invitation, and a permission.
For an ordinary man, he would have likely followed the current of the moment.
A secluded man and woman, alone together, bound by mutual affection—what was there to hesitate over?
But Gu Chengyin did not.
Far from it. His brows instead furrowed.
Because he sensed something amiss, a subtle wrongness that would have been difficult to perceive at the Foundation Establishment stage.
But now that his Tao heart had broken through to the Golden Core stage, its function became clear.
Amidst the chaotic tide of desire, it was like a piece of cold jade sunk to the bottom of the water.
Clear, cold, and translucent, utterly unmoved.
And it was precisely this clarity that allowed Gu Chengyin to detect the anomaly.
This was also the crucial point he had occasionally sensed before but never deeply investigated.
Why did Lin Qingyan become aroused?
No Heart Demon had appeared. Where did her desire come from?
Gu Chengyin recalled the previous times when Lin Qingyan had been stirred, yet no Heart Demon was involved.
Back then, he had assumed it was the Heart Demon at work.
After all, the Heart Demon was a consciousness of negative emotions, formed from desire itself.
It would cause one to lose control and sink into depravity—that seemed reasonable.
But before his Golden Core stage Tao heart, Gu Chengyin discovered something.
Lin Qingyan’s Heart Demon was quiet, weak, with not a hint of agitation.
It was as if the ambiguity and passion between them now had nothing to do with the Heart Demon.
If the Heart Demon was desire, and the Heart Demon had not stirred,
then where did Lin Qingyan’s current passion come from?
Gu Chengyin’s thoughts raced.
He recalled the records about Heart Demons: that they were the crystallization of a cultivator’s deepest obsession,
becoming an independent existence that coexisted with the host.
If so, then the host should be cold and detached.
Why, then, was Lin Qingyan more prone to passion?
How could she act so absurdly, even while fully awake?
Was this reasonable?
It was not.
Unless...
A thought suddenly flashed through Gu Chengyin’s mind, like a bolt of lightning in the dark night.
What if Lin Qingyan’s Heart Demon was not about desire at all?
What if the Lin Qingyan he had always seen was never the real Lin Qingyan?
“Little Aunt,”
Gu Chengyin spoke, his voice clear as a striking stone.
The immortal in his arms lifted her head.
Lin Qingyan’s eyes were still moist, her cheeks still flushed, her lips slightly parted as if about to speak.
But when she saw the look in Gu Chengyin’s eyes, her entire body suddenly stiffened.
Those were exceptionally clear eyes,
calm and transparent, like the still waters of a deep pool, showing no ripple at all.
They formed a stark contrast with the room’s intimacy and the burning heat of her body.
The passion faded a little from Lin Qingyan’s gaze, replaced by a kind of bewilderment,
as if she had been abruptly woken from a deep dream and had not yet come to her senses.
Gu Chengyin gazed quietly at Lin Qingyan, studying her intently, as if examining a treasure he had never seen before.
The face before him was one he knew well.
The brows and eyes were the same, the contours the same, still so beautiful,
like a celestial maiden descending from heaven, untouched by mundane dust.
Yet her expression was completely wrong. Those eyes were now brimming with lust,
hazy and soft, without a trace of her usual cold detachment.
This was wrong.
Very wrong.
If this were the cold, aloof Lin Qingyan, she should not show such an expression,
nor should she have done those utterly absurd things.
But if it were the Heart Demon, the Heart Demon had not appeared. It remained docile, under his control.
If so, only one possibility remained.
Gu Chengyin’s heart sank.
Unless the Lin Qingyan before him was not the real Lin Qingyan.
And the cold, aloof Lin Qingyan was the true her.
The cold detachment Gu Chengyin had always seen was merely a disguise,
meant to show everyone that Lin Qingyan was still Lin Qingyan.
This thought was absurd, yet far too plausible.
So plausible that a cold shiver ran down Gu Chengyin’s spine.
He had always believed the Heart Demon was the embodiment of desire, Lin Qingyan’s suppressed passion.
So when the cold, aloof Lin Qingyan appeared, he had never doubted her.
But Gu Chengyin had overlooked one thing.
A Heart Demon could be any extreme emotion.
It could be repressed desire, or it could be bone-deep hatred.
What if Lin Qingyan’s suffering was too great?
So great that she could not bear it, forcing her to sever those memories and seal them away.
And the Heart Demon that sealed those memories would become a negative consciousness of pain and hatred.
Within this negative consciousness would be all the memories Lin Qingyan refused to face.
Meanwhile, she herself would become a new Lin Qingyan, one with desire and love,
but without painful memories.
So she would feel passion, lose control, and... love him.
Because the extreme negative emotions of pain and hatred were gone,
leaving only the part that could feel moved, yearn, and surrender.
Gu Chengyin closed his eyes. He recalled all that had happened these days.
The look Lin Qingyan gave him—starting with distance, then growing gentle, and now full of affection.
He had thought that, after the Heart Demon was released, it was her true nature showing through.
It turned out that from the very beginning, what he saw was not the Heart Demon, but her true nature.
Except that this true nature was incomplete.
And the Lin Qingyan with all her memories was the real Lin Qingyan.
“Little Aunt,”
Gu Chengyin called softly again, his voice even gentler than before, carrying an indescribable tone.
The passion in Lin Qingyan’s eyes faded a little more.
She seemed to sense something, but dared not be certain.
She only gazed at him blankly, like a frightened kitten.
Gu Chengyin sighed, raised his hand, and stroked her cheek.
His fingertips touched burning skin—whether from lingering heat or nervousness, he could not tell.
Lin Qingyan’s eyes widened slightly, as if she had not expected him to make such a move at this moment.
But Gu Chengyin did nothing further. He only gently caressed her cheek,
as if soothing her, or confirming something.
He suddenly spoke, confessing with utter sincerity:
“Little Aunt, I like you very much. Truly.”
Lin Qingyan froze.
“But...”
Gu Chengyin looked at her, his tone indescribably complex:
“Is this really alright?”
His thumb gently brushed the corner of Lin Qingyan’s eye, where a trace of moisture lingered.
“If the real you were to know, could she truly accept this?”
or! A blessing for those who struggle with love, a guidebook for dating novices. Quickly match with your dream goddess! Complete walkthroughs earn rewards, and perfect walkthroughs unlock limited achievements!】 Shen Yi, an ordinary office worker, accidentally downloads a mini-game called Dating Simulator. The mini-game is simple: randomly search for dating targets, simulate dates, and receive rewards upon successful confession. Rewards include but are not limited to money, attributes, and skills. The higher the evaluation, the better the rewards, with perfect ratings unlocking mysterious achievements. Shen Yi plans to use this mysterious mini-game to continuously pursue targets and improve himself, making his life better and better. ...... However, after several successful walkthroughs, Shen Yi suddenly notices something strange - the targets he previously simulated dating seem to be searching for him in real life?
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
lanned to earn money steadily and take life at a slower pace. But he never expected... his father's remarriage, and the stepmother bringing along a dependent, would completely disrupt his life's plans...
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
