RIIDMDR chapter 129

 

Jingyuan’s emotions were all over the place. His breathing was heavy, and Tingchuan finally shut his mouth. The room fell silent again. Perhaps Jingyuan’s words carried too much emotion because Nanxu’s heart felt weighed down by a large stone, so heavy that it ached.

After a long time, Tingchuan’s voice broke the silence. “If you’re not alive, who else would remember him? You think your fate is doomed and want to end it all, yet you expect me to remember a dead person for the rest of my life? How could you trust me that much?”

Jingyuan stared at Tingchuan for a long while, then glanced at Nanxu, who was peeking out from behind him. Their gazes met. Nanxu instinctively wanted to look away from those still-reddened eyes, yet a stubborn impulse kept him from moving his gaze.

“You and this one… truly?” Jingyuan looked back at Tingchuan and asked.

The answer was obvious, but Jingyuan couldn’t believe the nine-tailed fox demon he knew could change his heart so quickly. Even though their relationship had been strained for years, Jingyuan still believed in Tingchuan.

However, having known each other since youth, Jingyuan understood Tingchuan’s temperament. If he didn’t truly love this demon, he wouldn’t have brought him to the South Sea. Tingchuan never joked about such matters.

Therefore, Jingyuan’s heart was filled with contradiction—half disbelief and half forced acceptance. Disappointment and avoidance intertwined within him, leaving him in a heavy, tangled mood.

But Tingchuan didn’t seem to notice his struggle and firmly replied, “He is indeed my partner.”

Jingyuan lost the last shred of hope. The impulse to draw his sword and strike Tingchuan faded away. Completely drained, he waved his hand weakly. “You two go. I don’t want to see you right now.”

It was an order to leave, and Tingchuan didn’t hesitate. He held Nanxu’s hand and led him out the door.

Nanxu felt like a tool the whole time—brought into the room, introduced to Jingyuan, and made to anger him. Then he was dragged out again.

Jingyuan suddenly felt that he had missed something. His gaze fell on Tingchuan and Nanxu’s interlocked hands, and the faint sense of strangeness in his mind disappeared completely. When the door opened and closed, and the light from outside disappeared through the crack, he finally looked away.

He felt pity for the little demon yet knew he was in no position to criticize Tingchuan. He could only swallow his frustration and mutter under his breath, “Nine-tailed fox demons really are insufferable!”

Nanxu, still dazed, stepped outside. The sea breeze cleared his foggy mind, and he realized that Tingchuan had led him into another courtyard. Tingchuan walked straight to a door he clearly knew well, pushed it open, and entered. The furnishings inside were unlike the lavish style outside. Tables and chairs made of ancient wood exuded an aged, restrained luxury.

Tingchuan sat down at the table, poured a cup of water from the teapot, and handed it to Nanxu. When Nanxu took it, he was surprised to find the water was warm.

Wait—Nanxu glanced around. The furniture was spotless, the bedding freshly made. Everything looked so clean it seemed uninhabited. How could there be warm water in the teapot? It was as if someone had prepared it especially for them.

Seeing his confusion, Tingchuan explained, “There are fish demons who take care of Jingyuan’s daily needs. They live in the wooden houses you saw on your way up the mountain. They don’t appear before others. As for the tea and water here, Jingyuan probably had them prepared since I’m the only one who stays in this room.”

Nanxu was speechless. He had just seen them glaring daggers at each other. Tingchuan acted like he wouldn’t rest until Jingyuan was furious. He thought they were mortal enemies. Yet, Jingyuan had known Tingchuan would come, and despite being ill, he had someone tidy the room for him.

It was truly a special kind of brotherly affection.

After sipping his tea, Nanxu finally remembered what he’d wanted to ask earlier, but he’d nearly forgotten thanks to their “brotherly bond.” He laughed and said, “When did we ever talk about getting married? You said we’d have one ceremony in the South Sea, one in the East Sea, and one at Zhuyu Mountain.”

The moment he asked, Tingchuan’s expression turned strange. He slowly took a sip of water, his long eyelashes trembling slightly as he seemed to think.

After a pause—

“I said it to provoke him,” Tingchuan replied. “But wanting to marry you is real.”

His bluntness caught Nanxu off guard. What had started as a joke left him speechless, so he simply clutched his teacup and kept drinking.

Before he could respond, Tingchuan gently took the cup from his hand and said warmly, “I’m not in a rush, and I haven’t made any preparations for marriage. I’m not urging you. We can wait until you’re ready.”

Nanxu hummed in response. Right then, his stomach growled. He stood up. “Do you know where the kitchen is? I’ll make something to eat.”

Tingchuan led him to a side room in the courtyard. The room had a stove, firewood, and utensils, but everything looked unused. There were no traces of cooking. This made sense, as demons didn’t need regular meals. Having a kitchen at all was impressive.

“There are no ingredients. I’ll ask the fish demons,” Tingchuan said.

Nanxu quickly stopped him. “No need. I have some.”

He found a basin, entered the system, and, after selecting a few items, soon had a basin filled with fresh vegetables and a slab of pork.

Tingchuan: …

Tingchuan leaned against the doorway and watched Nanxu pull out food as if performing magic. “With an ability like that, how can you insist that you’re human? As far as I know, humans can’t conjure things from thin air.”

“Because I have a system,” Nanxu answered silently.

Having a system didn’t make him any less human, so Nanxu didn’t bother replying. He quickly washed the vegetables in a crystal basin that could have been a decorative piece, which felt ridiculously extravagant.

Half an hour later, two or three simple dishes and a pot of rice were ready. Having not eaten a proper meal in a while, Nanxu happily devoured it, even refilling his bowl twice.

Full and content, he rubbed his belly and sat in the courtyard, enjoying the sea breeze. Then it hit him—he’d just used Jingyuan’s kitchen and ingredients without offering him a bite. That seemed rather rude.

Glancing at Tingchuan, who was washing dishes, he asked, “Was it wrong not to invite Jingyuan to eat with us?”

Without looking up, Tingchuan replied, “He probably couldn’t eat right now.”

Nanxu: “Because his illness is that serious?”

Tingchuan: “No, because he just saw me.”

Nanxu: …

All right, I clearly still don’t understand your earth-shattering brotherly bond.

“If I hadn’t angered him, he would have died right in front of me,” Tingchuan said.

Nanxu could guess Tingchuan’s intent. After all, Jingyuan’s deathly aura earlier had been obvious. Tingchuan was always calm and collected; this was the first time Nanxu had seen him speak so quickly and emotionally.

“He seems to care a lot about that little demon,” Nanxu said after pausing.

After putting the dishes away, Tingchuan dried his hands and replied, “Yes, the little demon knew Jingyuan first. Later, when Jingyuan and Yun Yi came to the East Sea, I met him. He had no name or family and didn’t know where he came from. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air in the demon realm. He was silly and always thought he was human even though his demonic aura could be sensed from miles away. He never took his true form, and every time he saw another demon’s original form, he looked envious.”

Tingchuan smiled faintly. “Jingyuan’s a righteous sort—sharp-tongued but soft-hearted. He couldn’t bring himself to bully that little demon. But he was slow to understand feelings and never said sweet words, so it was hard for him to get close to others. Later, the little demon and I became close and fell in love. He thought I’d stolen his chance, so he fought me a few times. But he wasn’t my equal, so he could only sulk in silence.”

Even though Nanxu had been mentally prepared, hearing Tingchuan openly admit that he’d once been in love with another demon made jealousy rise in his chest.

“And after that, you stopped seeing each other?” Nanxu asked.

Tingchuan shook his head. “Jingyuan isn’t the type to hold grudges. In fact, he tried to win the little demon over. When we traveled together, he’d often act especially attentive. But the little demon loved me deeply. No matter how hard Jingyuan tried, he couldn’t come between us. So, he eventually gave up and settled for friendship.”

Nanxu felt another pang of jealousy. He started to suspect that he had added too much vinegar when cooking the stir-fried cabbage earlier.

He tried to smile, showing that he was above it all, but his lips twitched uncontrollably.

Thinking back to Tingchuan’s earlier words about the little demon “believing he was human,” Nanxu suddenly realized who Tingchuan must have mistaken him for. His forced smile collapsed completely—he almost wanted to cry on the spot.

Not only was there a dead ex-lover who resembled the white moonlight[mfn]The phrase “white moonlight” (白月光) is a metaphorical expression commonly used in Chinese literature, dramas, and web novels. It refers to: A person who represents pure, untouchable, idealized love — someone who remains perfect in memory but can never truly be possessed or replaced.[/mfn], but he was apparently also a replacement. Did Tingchuan love him only as a shadow of that person?

Nanxu knew that if he kept thinking along those lines, he’d never stop, so he stopped himself, glared at Tingchuan, and went into the room.

He didn’t believe Tingchuan was so tactless as to flaunt his old affections right in front of him. There must be a reason behind it.

He needed a quiet place to think.

Tingchuan sat in the courtyard, watching the closed door, uncertain if he’d gone too far.

Inside, Nanxu threw himself onto the bed. He was full and drowsy, but every time he tried to stop thinking, Tingchuan’s words echoed in his mind again.

He’d wondered before: Why, after living in the human world for more than twenty years, had he suddenly ended up in the demon realm after one accident? Why had the stingy system given him Zhuyu Mountain the first time they met? Why did he have fragmented memories that didn’t belong to him?

So many “whys.” It wasn’t that he’d never doubted them before.

 

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~An additional chapter from MCJohnston — thanks for the coffee! 💕

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