A Guide to Self-Rescue in the Cultivation World - Chapter 35

Zhou Shan Yuan slowly raised his head, looking into Zhou Suyao’s eyes.

He suddenly recalled the day his Master, in a fluster over her name, asked him a question.

“Shanyuan, what should your Little Junior Sister be named, exactly?”

His hand, holding the herbal medicine, paused at the question. After a long moment, he slowly spoke:

“Let’s call her ‘Suyao‘.”

“Su means pure, simple, and true nature. Yao means the pursuit of a higher realm. Combined, the name implies ‘to embrace simplicity and retain one’s integrity’.”

Hearing this, Master’s eyes lit up. He repeated the name several times on his lips before looking up again, praising, “It is a good name.”

Zhou Shan Yuan smiled as well. Though he had existed in the mortal realm for a thousand years, this was the first time he had named a person.

“Zhou Suyao,” He mimicked Master, savoring the name. In an instant, the name seemed to become a thread linking her to him.

He didn’t know then how difficult that name would be to let go of.

He looked into the eyes he had only dared to examine closely in the dream, which were now filled with worry because of his nightmare.

He couldn’t describe his emotions at that moment, only knowing that when he saw her concern for him, a strange sense of secret delight welled up in his heart.

Zhou Shan Yuan’s gaze lingered on her face for too long, making Zhou Suyao restless. Her trembling fingers made him suddenly realize he was still tightly gripping her hand.

He should let go.

But perhaps because he was so attached to the warmth of her fingertips, his hand instinctively curled tighter.

“I’m fine,” his voice was still hoarse. He braced himself and sat up. His inner robe was loose and slightly open. From Zhou Suyao’s angle, she could clearly see the cold sweat clinging to his body from the nightmare and the defined lines of his collarbone.

Her ears felt hot, and she immediately looked away.

But she still asked with concern: “Eldest Senior Brother, are you really okay? You… you seemed to be crying?”

Zhou Shan Yuan was startled. He raised a hand to touch his cheek and indeed felt a trail of cold tears.

He had actually wept in his dream.

For the inescapable despair of that dream, and for the person before him, who was safe and sound and worried for him.

“Just a nightmare,” he said, lowering his eyes, avoiding her probing gaze. His voice was very soft. “Did I wake you?”

Zhou Suyao shook her head: “I just heard movement from your side and came to check.” She paused, adding, “I didn’t just walk over. I called you several times, but you didn’t answer me…”

“I know,” he said quietly. The sound was so faint, lost in the gentle patter of the rain, that it was barely audible. “Thank you.”

The rain outside seemed to have eased, but the night was still heavy. The candlelight on the table flickered, casting their shadows onto the wall, making them dance with the flame.

Suddenly, a cool breeze drifted in from the window crack. Zhou Suyao, wearing only her thin sleeping clothes, unconsciously rubbed her arms.

Zhou Shan Yuan noticed immediately: “Are you cold?”

Saying this, he was about to get out of bed to close the window tighter.

“No need, Eldest Senior Brother,” Zhou Suyao quickly pressed down on his arm. “I was going to go back to sleep anyway. I’ll close it on my way. You just had a bad dream; your body is weak now, and catching a chill would be bad.”

As she spoke, she tried to stand up, but her wrist was gently held by him.

His palm was large, easily circling her wrist bone.

Zhou Shan Yuan was startled by his own action. He didn’t know why he did it; perhaps a subconscious reluctance to let her leave. This moment of peace was too precious; he wanted to hold onto it for just a little longer.

“Stay a little longer… I’m scared. Talk to me.”

The excuse was truly clumsy and amusing.

Zhou Suyao blinked. Clearly, she didn’t believe her Eldest Senior Brother would be so terrified by a nightmare that he needed someone to talk to him.

But she didn’t expose his poor excuse. She simply went along with him and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

Her hand was still held in his, covered in fine sweat.

They fell silent for a moment.

In the quiet room, only their shallow breaths and the ceaseless, fine patter of the rain outside remained.

Zhou Shan Yuan’s thumb unconsciously stroked the inner side of her wrist. The touch instantly reminded him of the piled-up peach petals in the dream and her soft lips.

The fire he had forcibly suppressed within his body seemed ready to rekindle.

He was startled by his own reaction. Like he’d been stung, he abruptly pulled his hand away.

Zhou Suyao looked at him in confusion.

But this time, he didn’t look into her eyes. Instead, he looked down at the thumb that had stroked her wrist, his brow slightly furrowed, as if lost in thought.

Finally, he spoke slowly, calling her name.

“Suyao.”

He spoke her name.

Very seriously, word for word.

Zhou Suyao’s eyes widened slightly. She had always thought Eldest Senior Brother’s voice was beautiful, like the clear chime of jade pendants clashing.

She was so engrossed in the sound that she forgot to answer with an “Eh.”

If Zhou Shan Yuan’s voice was very soft, even trembling a little, if one day you discover that I am not the person you see, that I  have done some very bad things, things I had to do. What would you do?”

His question was so abrupt and contextless that Zhou Suyao didn’t immediately register it as a question.

Yet, the struggle in his tone was so real that Zhou Suyao was forced to confront his question.

She suddenly remembered the Eldest Senior Brother she saw in the illusion.

Was Eldest Senior Brother trying to say that his silent witnessing of the demon race’s demise was also an act of helplessness, something he had to do?

What kind of forced action would make him calmly watch an entire race be annihilated?

She didn’t know what to say.

She lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze.

Her emotions were too complex. She didn’t speak. Zhou Shan Yuan stared at her in silence, suddenly regretting asking the question.

He was afraid of hearing the answer, and even more afraid of seeing alienation and hatred in her eyes.

Just as he was about to speak and say, “It’s okay, forget I asked,” Zhou Suyao’s voice softly rang out.

“Eldest Senior Brother is Eldest Senior Brother,” she said. “You make me peach blossom cake, you teach me cultivation, and you always come to save me when I’m in danger. You are my closest kin, Eldest Senior Brother.”

“Good and bad are never clear-cut in a person’s heart, but I know you are very kind to me. That is enough, at least for now.”

Zhou Shan Yuan looked up at her.

Her eyes were crystal clear, reflecting his image.

In that moment, an enormous well of sorrow nearly overwhelmed his rationality. His fingertips trembled. He almost couldn’t stop the impulse to pull Little Junior Sister tightly into his arms and confess all his pain and the full scope of the Spiritual Dao’s conspiracy.

But ultimately, he didn’t.

He merely took a gentle, extremely slow breath, as if to push all his emotions back down into his heart.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t prioritize mortal attachment over the Spiritual Dao.

“Yes,” he smiled. “That is enough.“

He raised his hand, very restrained, and used his fingertips to gently brush away a wisp of hair near her temple.

“Go back and sleep a little more, Suyao,” he said softly. “It will be dawn soon, and we have to travel. Your body won’t hold up.”

Zhou Suyao looked at him, seemingly having many words she wanted to say, but in the end, she said nothing more, only nodding slowly, “Eldest Senior Brother, you rest well too.”

She walked past the screen, unable to resist looking back at him one last time.

Zhou Shan Yuan was still sitting on the edge of the bed. The candlelight outlined his figure, giving him a yellow halo, like a Buddha or a Guanyin statue.

Her figure was blocked by the screen.

Only then did the smile on Zhou Shan Yuan’s face slowly fade. He blew out the candle beside him but did not lie back down.

He suddenly felt intense pain.

His heart ached deeply.

Tears trailed down his face again, but he dared not make a sound, not even a sob.

He bit down hard on the soft flesh of his hand. Even though the pain was extreme, even though he drew bl00d, he did not release his grip.

It hurt so much.

But if he were forced to kill Zhou Suyao, he would feel even worse than at this moment.

Yet, if he didn’t deal with the threat of Zhou Suyao, Jiang Luan’s prediction would forever remain uncertain.

His fingernails dug deep into his palm. The edge of the jade pendant engraved with Zijin nearly embedded itself into his flesh.

Outside the window, the rain gradually subsided. The room descended into a terrifying silence.

He cannot kill her.

This thought appeared more clearly in his consciousness than ever before.

No matter how accurate Jiang Luan’s predictions were, no matter how imminent the threat facing the Spiritual Dao was, no matter what his father… what his father might be enduring right now, the mere thought of her eyes dimming before him brought a feeling of almost complete despair.

It was more painful than self-detonating his spiritual elixir.

But then, how could he not kill her?

The Spiritual Dao would never relent. Today, they sent the jade pendant as a threat; tomorrow, it might be his father’s severed finger. What about the next time… and the time after that?

He dared not think.

Those Lords, to maintain the so-called order, never saw mortals as “people.” Even he, a “Fallen Immortal” who barely cut, was nothing more than a slightly more important chess piece.

Yet, even as a chess piece, he was a Lord of the Spiritual Dao.

He possessed longevity, infinite divine power. He was a Lord, and Zhou Suyao was merely… a brief passage in his long life…

Yes, just a brief passage…

But why, then, did his heart ache so unbearably at the thought of her death?

“Suyao. Suyao.”

He had no choice.

All he could do was let her explore the world, and if possible, leave the Spiritual Dao’s sphere of influence, far from this turmoil.

However… even if she left, where could she go?

The Human Dao was oppressed, and the Heavenly Dao was obscured by darkness.

No matter where she went, she was destined not to have a peaceful life.

Keeping her by his side now, protecting her, was already the best choice.

His head spun. He felt as though despair was about to drown him.

He could only silently whisper her name over and over again on his lips, as if drawing the last shred of warmth and courage from it.

However, deep down in his heart, he fully understood that all his thoughts were merely self-deception.

There were no easy turnarounds in this world, and no solution that would satisfy both sides.