“Sister Shanyue, say…”
Yang Ling poked the little furball that was napping. The moment its pitch-black eyes snapped open and let out an angry whimper, she couldn’t help laughing. “What is this little thing anyway? It looks like a ball made from sheared wool.”
Yan Shanyue waved her finger, and a blue foxfire instantly enveloped the little furball, making it float lazily in midair until it drifted to her. She studied it carefully and said, “Probably absorbed some great demon’s essence by accident and turned into a spirit. That’s probably why it kept following Nine Phoenix afterward.”
Wei Huan came out after changing his clothes. “Come on, it’s a big day, we can’t be late.”
The foxfire vanished. The little furball, comfortably floating, suddenly lost its support and let out a startled yelp as it fell to the ground, bouncing several times.
“Brother Huanhuan, what engagement gift did you get?”
“Guess~”
Yun Yongzhou exposed him immediately. “Something inappropriate for kids.”
“Hey!”
The little furball chased after them with all its might, then suddenly bounced up and stuck to Wei Huan’s back. It clambered laboriously up to his shoulder, let out a long sigh, and went limp like a listless pancake of fur.
Wei Huan’s steps rocked back and forth like a cradle, and just like that, the furball was lulled back into a dream.
In the dream, he was still just a tiny fruit on a furfruit tree. That type of tree only grew in a small, remote valley surrounded by cliffs in the demon realm. The fruits were all wrapped in fuzzy husks and swelled when they absorbed water. So when it rained, the trees were covered in bulging, clustered furballs—a spectacular sight.
He was just like all the other little furfruits. Every day, he could only see minor mountain spirits—weasel demons, sparrow spirits—and sometimes a big dumb black bear demon would lumber past. If one of them bumped into a tree, a bunch of fruits would fall off. And with no limbs to retreat or run, any fruit that hit the ground was as good as dead.
Even if the black bear didn’t knock him down, he didn’t have many days left. He could feel himself becoming increasingly unsteady, the feeling growing stronger by the day.
On the day he was sure he would fall, a red glow lit the sky. It wasn’t an ordinary demon light—it was so intense the little furball could barely kYing his eyes open.
Oh no, am I about to meet a great demon? he thought, trembling.
And sure enough—after a crackling explosion, a huge bird crashed from the sky into the forest of furfruit trees. It was stunning, every feather glowing.
As the furball watched in awe, several beams of blinding light shot out, transforming into blade-like weapons. His heart—or rather, he didn’t have one, but if he did, it would be in his throat! He felt his stem loosening even more, and he grew increasingly panicked. Fortunately, none of the blades struck the bird directly—they were clearly aimed to miss.
Suddenly, from above, he heard a cool voice.
“Do you concede now?”
Just then, the dazzling bird on the ground transformed into a human—a stunning young man with long black hair and a crimson robe. Propping himself up lazily with one arm, he looked skyward. “Doesn’t count. Do-over.”
A loud whoosh—someone landed on the very top of the tree. The little furball didn’t have time to see who.
Cr*p, cr*p, I’m falling!
I’m going to hit the ground, get eaten by a weasel, stomped by a bear, pecked to bits by sparrows! I haven’t lived yet! Why do I have to die just when I get to see a great demon? I shouldn’t have wished to see one!
The red-robed demon stood, wings spread. And in that exact moment, the furball dropped—straight onto those wings. Immediately, he was wrapped in overwhelming spiritual energy that surged into every hair on his body. He felt euphoric, dazed, as if he might ascend right then and there.
In a haze, he heard the red-robed man speak:
“I only pretended to be hit. You didn’t land a single blow.” He even spun midair and chuckled. “Don’t get cocky, Golden Crow.”
Golden Crow?
What’s a Golden Crow?
The furball didn’t know. All he knew was that the light blades were terrifying and this demon was probably a big deal. The energy overwhelmed him and he passed out, remembering nothing more.
He later awoke to the wind rushing past him, fur pushed backward. Looking around, he realized—he was flying!
Wait, no—it was the great demon carrying him.
So high up!
“Ying!”
The sound startled the demon, who stopped midair and looked around. “What was that noise?”
The furball trembled, silent, but his weak demon spirit gave him away. The demon plucked him off and rolled him between his fingers like a stress toy, playing with him before speaking.
“You’re the fruit from earlier?”
The furball blinked his newly grown big eyes, too scared to answer.
“Speak. I won’t eat you.” The demon smiled, even more dazzling. A red phoenix blossom bloomed on his right cheekbone.
“No? Then I’ll toss you.”
“Ying! Ying Ying Ying Ying!”
The furball panicked, clinging to his finger and shrieking.
“Such a coward.” The demon chuckled. “Since you gained your spirit from my demonic aura, you might as well follow me for now.” He moved to stick the furball onto his shoulder, but paused, holding him up. “Right—you probably don’t know who I am.”
“Ying?” The furball trembled in his fur, nodding.
“I’m the Phoenix.”
And so, having absorbed the Phoenix’s powerful energy, the little furball instantly became a spirit—skipping decades of cultivation. Yet he was no prodigy and would never become a true great demon. He’d thought the Phoenix must be an elite of the demon realm, surely too busy for anything. But to his surprise, the Phoenix was shockingly idle—like a playboy of the human world.
But he had one rival: the Golden Crow—a stunning white-feathered demon who glowed nobly under the sun. The Crow was aloof and proud, never once acknowledging the Phoenix directly. Yet both were geniuses among demons, and their paths inevitably crossed.
Over time, the furball noticed that whenever the white-feathered noble appeared, his lazy Phoenix would suddenly become very motivated.
He didn’t know why—just that his master was a little odd.
Though it was an ancient era, wars raged endlessly—between humans, demons, and even between humans and demons.
“I’m so sick of this life,” the Phoenix often said. He hated war.
While other powerful demons went to battle, the Phoenix spent half a year stargazing and divining. Then he sold everything to buy a mountain, built himself a retirement estate, and hid away. No one could get him to leave.
The furball enjoyed a peaceful life with him.
But the Phoenix had a soft heart. Though he insisted he didn’t care about the outside world, he’d still fly out with strange excuses and bring back little demons orphaned by war. “I get lonely,” he’d say, “need some kids to play with.”
Over time, more demons came. The Phoenix became a king of children. One day, staring out at his mountain, he built a red barrier gate.
“A gate needs a name.”
He wrote a letter, folded it into a paper crane, pricked his finger, and dotted the crane’s head with blood. The crane came alive and fluttered off.
“Go find the Golden Crow.”
Later that evening, the crane returned, glowing gold. The Phoenix stirred lazily, the furball bouncing onto his shoulder to peek.
The crane unfolded into a letter—his master’s flamboyant handwriting:
“Any favorite poems? If you don’t reply, I’ll storm the Penglai Sea.”
The back bore a single line of elegant script:
“Long winds drive sails beyond return, seas rise, mountains fall, ancient moon breaks.”
The Phoenix chuckled softly, reciting the verse twice. Then he wrote two characters in fire across the sky:
Shanhai (Mountain-Sea).
The words became the barrier’s name.
The furball always found it strange. Those two demons—supposed enemies—were clearly more complicated than that. After the Phoenix settled in Shanhai, he rarely left, and the furball didn’t see the Golden Crow again.
Then came the Golden Crow’s wedding. Invitations went to all 360 cities—except Shanhai.
The furball thought for sure his temperamental Phoenix would crash the event. He didn’t—though he did send a gift via Qingluan. The furball snuck along.
At the grand wedding, the Golden Crow stood proudly in red, colder than ever. The gift—a golden box—floated before him. Inside: a jade bracelet and a letter:
“This jade is not for you but for your bride. They say demonkind cannot reincarnate, and death means soul dispersal. Yet you, born with rare Xihe Golden Eyes—what a shame if they vanish with you. I, the Phoenix, embed half my Nirvana into this ring. It can help bear a child who may inherit your gift, though it may take generations. Someday, someone will awaken the Xihe eyes again.”
For once, the flamboyant Phoenix had written solemnly.
The letter burned itself after reading.
The furball didn’t understand—why would the Phoenix give up half his Nirvana just to pass on the Crow’s bloodline?
Nor did he understand how the jade bracelet held such power.
What he didn’t know was that many years later, when the Golden Crow was buried, the only thing taken into the tomb was that jade bracelet—clutched tightly in his hand.
Qingluan returned with the furball.
“Did you give it?” the Phoenix asked, pale, fiddling with red love-berries at the window.
Qingluan nodded. “The Golden Crow sends his thanks.”
The Phoenix didn’t reply, only stared at the berries.
Qingluan hesitated. “Why don’t you start a family? You and the Crow are equals in power. You should pass on your gifts.”
“What power?” the Phoenix retorted lazily. “If I have to pick some girl just to match bloodlines, that’s unfair to her and me. Just staying true to myself is hard enough.” He plucked a berry and tossed it out.
“You really don’t want children?”
The Phoenix turned and smiled faintly.
“All beings are my children.”
His tone was light, but the words struck like stone. Qingluan understood.
The Phoenix reached out the window. The wind rushed between his fingers—free, unrestrained.
“Qingluan, don’t feel sorry.”
“There will be a child who carries my will someday. I don’t know who—but that’s the fun of it.”
Years passed like a dream. Shanhai grew. The Phoenix taught the young demons, founding four academies: Fuyao, Yansui, Shangshan, and Jiahui—each suited to different talents.
News of war filtered in—of the Golden Crow’s brilliant victories. Some urged the Phoenix to return to battle. He refused every time.
The only two times he emerged: once to rescue the besieged Golden Crow, and once to save all of Kunlun Void.
The first left him gravely wounded—he took 30 years to heal.
The second time… he never returned.
The furball couldn’t comprehend grief. But when he learned his master would never return, it hurt more than anything. More than being stomped or eaten.
The Phoenix had arranged successors—Peng to oversee Shanhai, Qingluan, Zhuque, Xuanwu, and Fusang to lead the academies. So even in death, Shanhai didn’t fall.
Strangely, that old rival Golden Crow tried to summon the Phoenix’s soul. Some say he used his golden eyes to do it—for after the Phoenix’s death, the Golden Crow never used them again.
Did he succeed? The furball didn’t know.
He only knew—the Phoenix was gone.
Without him, the furball wouldn’t last much longer. But since his master’s body had turned to ash, he couldn’t even be buried with him. So he found a small hole, just big enough to fit, and covered it with a leaf.
He closed his eyes.
He never expected to wake again.
But he did.
Everything was different—no carved wood or jade tiles, just steel and concrete. Strange machines, unknown things.
“Ying…”
He felt terribly alone.
But one day, he sensed a familiar aura. He bounced toward the liveliest place—and there, among a group of young demons in different colored uniforms, he saw a boy in blue.
He looked so much like the Phoenix—his smile, his every move.
“Ying!”
The furball leapt onto him, and his dry body instantly filled with new energy. Just like the first time.
Too comfy—he melted into a pancake.
“Ying…”
Then the boy whispered playfully, “Hey, Little Golden Crow, Little Golden Crow…”
Golden Crow?
The furball jolted upright.
“Little Golden Crow, look at me~”
He turned and nearly screamed.
That face—those eyes—it was the Golden Crow of old!
No—not quite. This boy had a flame-shaped demon mark on his forehead. He was even more beautiful.
The boy’s attitude was just like the young Phoenix—always provoking the Golden Crow.
“You’re so cold!”
Watching them, the furball remembered the past and decided—this time, he’d help.
So he jumped between them and, using all his strength, stuck them together.
“What the—what is this?”
“Wei Huan…”
“It wasn’t me! Don’t pull!”
And so, before everyone, the two boys collapsed into each other in an awkward tangle.
“Ying~”
Ah yes, thank my divine powers, the little furball thought.
Later, he learned the boy he now followed was the new Nine Phoenix, named Wei Huan, from Beiji Tiangui of Kunlun Void. And the white-feathered boy he clung to—Yun Yongzhou—was not only the Golden Crow’s descendant, but widely believed to be his reincarnation.
But reincarnation? How absurd.
The furball knew the truth: his master Phoenix had poured half his Nirvana into ensuring the Golden Crow’s eyes would live on.
Yet this truth could never be spoken.
What was even stranger—their personalities, their rivalry, their talents—all echoed the past.
Like fate was repeating.
The furball, burdened by regret, hoped—maybe this time, things could be different.
This time, he would help them become friends.
He worried and schemed endlessly.
Wei Huan was like a younger, freer Phoenix—hot-blooded, open-hearted. He didn’t hide behind indifference. He chased the sun with all his might, even if under the guise of rivalry.
He never let Yun Yongzhou be alone.
Even if it meant being annoying—he stayed by his side.
One day, the furball overheard gossip. Yun Yongzhou’s family wanted to match him with a girl—one already transferred into his class.
That was how the old Golden Crow got married. After that, the Phoenix shut himself in Shanhai and never came out again.
Terrified, the furball rushed to tell Wei Huan.
But rumors spread faster now than in ancient times—Wei Huan already knew.
During combat training, the two were paired for no-magic hand-to-hand. Wei Huan seemed distracted and lost several critical points.
Afterward, he lay on the floor groaning, “It hurts. I can’t get up.”
The furball could tell he was faking.
Wei Huan stretched out a hand pitifully. “Help me up?”
Yun Yongzhou stared down coldly, didn’t move.
The furball sighed—no luck.
But then, the Golden Crow extended a hand. A golden beam appeared, its end right by Wei Huan’s fingers.
“Get up yourself.”
Wei Huan smiled, grabbed it, and stood.
Later, in the locker room, the furball clung to Wei Huan’s arm, watching him chase after Yun Yongzhou, desperate to make conversation.
“Your technique today felt different!”
“Oh, right! I heard Shanhai’s cafeteria has a new menu—want to check it out?”
“Why aren’t you talking? Are you tired? Um…”
Yun Yongzhou took off his combat uniform and turned around shirtless to face him, his face cold. “What exactly do you want to say?”
“I…” Wei Huan instinctively turned his face away. Little Furball could almost sense the violent trembling of his master’s demon heart. “Nothing, I just…”
Yun Yongzhou said nothing, simply looking at him.
“Well, I heard your dad found you a fiancée or something.” Wei Huan’s eyes were fixed on the pattern of the floor tiles, and even Little Furball’s heart grew anxious.
Then suddenly, Wei Huan looked up and smiled at Yun Yongzhou. “I was just curious, wanted to see what she looks like. Coincidentally, the First Canteen came out with a new dish. If you don’t mind, could you bring her along and we’ll have a meal together?” As he spoke, he opened his locker and took out a change of clothes, his tone becoming casual again. “We’re teammates, after all. We could call Buyu and Yang Sheng too, get the guys together for a bite. What do you think…”
By the time he shut the locker door, Yun Yongzhou was no longer in the break room.
Wei Huan took a deep breath, pulled his shirt over his head, and sat on the bench, dazed.
Little Furball could feel his heart, just as he once could feel Phoenix’s.
“Ying…” He rubbed up against Wei Huan’s neck.
Wei Huan picked him up and ruffled his fur.
“What kind of stupid thing did I just say?”
“Ying…” Little Furball suddenly grew large, the size of a throw pillow, and filled Wei Huan’s arms.
“So even you think so.” Wei Huan hugged him tightly, burying his face in the soft fur, sighing silently. But a few seconds later, he mumbled, “Even if I had another chance, I probably still couldn’t help saying it.”
He really was different from Phoenix.
Little Furball even thought, if it had been Nine Phoenix back then, maybe the Aurelian tribute wouldn’t have been delivered by a thousand-mile messenger bird.
He would have personally gone to Penglai Sea to meet the newlyweds face to face, even if he couldn’t change the ending. He would’ve spoken those words himself, and handed over the bracelet with his own hands.
That was the biggest difference between Nine Phoenix and Phoenix.
Later, Little Furball found out that the little Golden Crow and the first-generation Golden Crow were also different.
He heard it from Yansui’s shadow wood, and from a passing little fire finch: this little Golden Crow was incredibly stubborn. He rejected the girl outright upon their first meeting. No matter how much pressure his family applied, he refused to interact with her again, so much so that he wouldn’t say a single word. The girl fell for him at first sight and was persistent, but Yun Yongzhou didn’t give her the slightest chance. Even though they sat at the same table every day, he wouldn’t spare her a single glance. Classmates whispered behind his back about how heartless he was, but Yun Yongzhou never changed.
During a combat team training session, the girl came to find him.
Little Furball hid in Wei Huan’s arms, watching the girl wait at the door. She didn’t have clearance to enter the combat team’s exclusive training room, so she had to ask other team members to pass on her messages. But no matter how many times they tried, Yun Yongzhou always ignored them, quietly shooting arrows alone in the corner.
Those teammates from other groups could only approach Wei Huan, Yang Sheng, and Su Buyu.
“She’s kind of pitiful. Can’t one of you talk to Yun Yongzhou? At least go meet her.”
Yang Sheng just wanted to watch the drama, Su Buyu and Yun Yongzhou had always been at odds, so it was left to Wei Huan. His eyes lingered on the girl for a moment before he put down his weapon and walked over to Yun Yongzhou.
“Hey, your girlfriend’s looking for you again.” Wei Huan was direct, but Yun Yongzhou acted like he hadn’t heard him, pulling an arrow from behind his back.
“You’re really breaking her heart.” Wei Huan stood beside him. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She just likes you. That’s not a reason to treat her this way.”
Yun Yongzhou released the arrow—bullseye. A sharp cracking sound followed, and the target split in two.
Wei Huan stared at the shattered target, heart uneasy.
“Liking someone isn’t wrong,” Yun Yongzhou said, raising his bow and looking Wei Huan in the eyes, speaking for once out of character, “But the one who falls first should’ve been prepared. They need to be ready.”
Little Furball could feel Wei Huan’s heart tighten, as though being squeezed.
He asked softly, “Ready for what?”
Yun Yongzhou let go. The bow fell to the floor.
“A heart that loves is meant to break.”
Little Furball was confused. These words seemed like they should be said to the girl waiting outside the door, but Yun Yongzhou said them to Wei Huan. And strangely enough, it didn’t feel like he was really talking to Wei Huan either.
His tone, his emotions—it wasn’t much better than his little master’s.
Watching Yun Yongzhou leave not through the main doors but by stepping directly into the formation boundary, Little Furball suddenly understood.
He was saying it to himself.
Later, his little master went to the door himself. But he was too kind to repeat Yun Yongzhou’s harsh words, only tucking them into his heart.
“You should give up,” he told the girl.
And also told himself.
But he wasn’t just anyone. He was Nine Phoenix, fearless of heaven or earth. Even with a cautionary tale right before his eyes, he didn’t give up. That alone comforted Little Furball.
He had always believed these two were different for each other. The only problem was their love was too hidden—neither dared to admit it. But once Little Nine Phoenix realized his feelings, he was far more honest than Phoenix had ever been. Relying on the fact that Little Furball couldn’t talk, he spilled everything to him.
“You think if he knew I liked him, he’d avoid me even more?” He lay on the garden lawn holding Little Furball, plucking a handful of night breeze that scattered into a spray of forget-me-nots.
“Ying ying ying.” No way.
“You think so too, huh.” Wei Huan sighed. “I’m doomed. My first love’s basically a lost cause.” He tugged at Little Furball’s fur, making him cry out in protest.
“I can’t even imagine who he’d fall for… I can’t picture it.” Wei Huan stared at the sky. “Even thinking about it makes me sad.”
“Hopefully I’ll die before that day comes.” Wei Huan rambled, laughing at himself. “D*mn, the most life-loving Nine Phoenix under heaven, saying things like this…”
“I really, really like him.”
And that was another difference between this little master and Phoenix—he had a cursed mouth. The bad things he said always came true.
In the end, he really did die, on the battlefield in the border canyon.
Everyone said he defected, piling the most despicable insults on the once-praised prodigy. Stains that couldn’t be washed away. A wind that never returned.
Little Furball didn’t understand why it still ended this way. He had tried so hard to change things. He’d even seen his little master and the Golden Crow getting closer, step by step.
This time was different. It was really just one step away.
But everything still fell apart.
He was devastated, almost unable to go on. He didn’t know what to do. He was just a little furball who grew up in the deep mountains. His fate should’ve been to wither quietly in the woods, fall into the soil after spring and autumn, and return to dust. But somehow he was gifted the cultivation other plants and spirits couldn’t attain in lifetimes. He became Phoenix’s companion and saw so many things he never dreamed of.
And yet, he had to watch both of his masters die, their bodies gone without a trace.
Little Furball couldn’t process his grief. He hid in Wei Huan’s belongings, the only thing he had left to hold on to. He could feel his life ebbing away, like water being slowly wrung from a sponge.
Until one day, Yun Yongzhou came and took him away. He revived him with his own spirit power, slowly restoring him.
At that moment, Little Furball was certain Yun Yongzhou had loved Wei Huan—if only for that kind of affection that extended even to the things he once touched.
Later, he heard Yun Yongzhou was seeking out the dark witches. So he hid in his clothes and followed him to Wuqi. He watched with his own eyes as Yun Yongzhou was trapped alone in a nightmare realm. He didn’t know what happened, only that Yun Yongzhou’s tears bled red, staining his Yansui uniform.
And no matter how hard Little Furball tried, he couldn’t wake him.
Fortunately, by dawn, Yun Yongzhou escaped on his own. He knelt weakly, wiping the blood from his face. A blade of light sliced through the petals, and he stepped out.
The hauntingly beautiful bian flower asked him for his most precious thing. Yun Yongzhou only asked one question.
“Will he come back?”
“Who knows,” the dark witch chuckled, her fingers blooming with blood-colored flowers, swaying gently. “Even the first Golden Crow failed to summon back the soul he loved. I suggest you don’t follow in his footsteps.”
Yun Yongzhou replied evenly, “What did he trade for it?”
The dark witch laughed. “You already know.”
Yun Yongzhou said no more. A gleaming blade of light appeared in his hand. Little Furball panicked, leapt onto his arm to stop him—but it was too late. His hand didn’t tremble even a bit as he decisively gouged out his own eye.
The golden Xihe Eye floated up and gently fell onto the altar.
When they emerged, Yun Yongzhou actually spoke to Little Furball, curled on his shoulder. He thought Yun Yongzhou would say something about himself—like hoping his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain, or not to get his hopes up. But instead, he said only:
“If he comes back, you can return to his side.”
Little Furball looked at him sadly.
And you? If I go back, what about you?
One day, while Yun Yongzhou was writing a letter at his desk, Little Furball caught a glimpse of what he’d written about the nightmare realm.
Just a few lines.
[That was the most beautiful dream I’ve ever had.]
[Because it was too beautiful, I knew it wasn’t real. Otherwise, I probably couldn’t have escaped.]
He replaced his eye with another monster’s, and in the beginning, the pain kept him from sleeping. Little Furball would gently roll across his eyelids with his fur to comfort him—not that it helped much. He even started to wonder if he was cursed, since every master he had ended up so pitiful.
When he used to watch Yun Yongzhou from Phoenix’s side, he thought he was aloof and unapproachable, untouched by the mundane world. But living with him now, he realized Yun Yongzhou actually had a very soft heart.
He would visit Wei Huan’s parents’ graves. In his own small house, he created an illusion of a complete spirit monument. He tried to help others, just like Wei Huan once had. After the Firefly Garden was demolished, he rebuilt an exact replica at the bottom of the lake beneath his home, from memory, bit by bit—just to have a place to store his memories.
He kept writing those letters that probably wouldn’t be delivered, even though it made his pain worse. Still, he wrote them with care.
[Last night I dreamed of us, from before. I realized I really was too cold then, but I didn’t mean to be. I just didn’t know how to act, or whether you were joking or serious. That’s why I stayed silent. If I had a second chance—no, if you come back, I’ll change. I’m learning now. When you return, I’ll treat you gently, even if only as a friend.]
[I’ve already planned it. I’ll bandage your wounds, cook your favorite food. I’m learning all of that.]
[The weather’s been bad lately—it’s rained for two months straight. You can come back later. I’m worried you’ll get wet.]
Little Furball couldn’t bear to read any more.
He didn’t want to just sit and wait, so he packed his tiny bundle and traveled all over the demon realm, secretly hiding on other monsters and roaming far and wide. He often ran into danger, sometimes got lost—but he made many friends who helped him search for his little master. Yet it was like looking for a needle in the ocean. Every time he hoped, he was let down.
Even Little Furball eventually gave up. But Yun Yongzhou never did.
He waited seven years, slowly becoming more and more like Wei Huan.
Thankfully, fate wasn’t so cruel. He waited—and Wei Huan came back.
Little Furball was a hundred percent sure. The moment he saw him—even though he looked completely different now, even though he was just a powerless human—he knew it was him.
Just like how he knew Wei Huan was Phoenix’s heir from the very first glance.
Compared to his certainty, Yun Yongzhou was cautious, probably afraid of disappointment. He kept confirming, again and again, until he saw the Xihe Eye awakening in him. Then he finally believed.
But Little Furball didn’t understand—why didn’t Wei Huan love Yun Yongzhou anymore?
He had said so many things back then, poured his heart out night after night. But now that he was reborn, it was like he’d forgotten everything. Even Little Furball felt wronged on Yun Yongzhou’s behalf.
But Yun Yongzhou didn’t think so. He wasn’t in a hurry.
He had always hoped for Wei Huan’s return—but never expected his love in return.
But fate is fate. Little Furball firmly believed they would end up together. To help Wei Huan remember the past, he did everything he could—traveled far to find Changming Dengniang, hunted for rare Dreamgrass. His body was small, his powers weak, and sometimes he collapsed on the road from lack of stored demon energy, but he never gave up.
The miracle had already happened. He had to help turn past regrets into fulfillment.
Even if he was just a tiny little furball.
He only hated that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell Wei Huan and Yun Yongzhou everything they had done for each other, couldn’t shatter the paper-thin wall between them. But watching them slowly draw closer, led by their hearts, gave him a strange comfort.
Just like Wei Huan once said—
Even if he got a second chance, he still wouldn’t be able to help himself.
He couldn’t help but throw himself into his sun once more.
“Wake up, hey…”
Little Furball was shaken awake groggily, and opened his eyes to find Wei Huan leaning close, staring at him.
“Don’t sleep.” Wei Huan, seeing he was awake, placed him on his shoulder and gave him a pat, lowering his voice. “The engagement ceremony’s about to start. If you keep sleeping, you’ll miss it.”
Little Furball instantly puffed up his fur and opened his wide eyes, looking toward Qing He and Xie Tianfa standing not far away, smiling blissfully.
Life was strange. Compared to this turbulent world, each of them was nothing more than a mayfly, scattered by fate. Perhaps once parted, they would never meet again. But they all fought their way toward one another, toward what they wanted—and in the end, they arrived.
He had witnessed it all from beginning to end, and also participated in this grand, romantic encounter.
Yun Yongzhou, watching the couple exchange rings, thought of something. He took out a dull gold bracelet from his Xianxia box. The cracks in it had been filled with red.
He took Wei Huan’s hand and slipped the bracelet back on his wrist.
“It’s repaired?” Wei Huan glanced at it. The red crack looked elegant—much like the red thread that had once bound him.
“Mm.” Yun Yongzhou nodded.
It had been mended using Golden Crow feathers. The red symbolized Golden Crow spirit power.
Wei Huan studied it, then suddenly asked, “Why did you want to make me a bracelet back then?”
Yun Yongzhou shook his head. “I don’t know. Just instinct. Felt like it should be a bracelet.”
Little Furball shook his fur wildly, trying to tell them the story of the bracelet from a thousand years ago. If it hadn’t been for that bracelet, maybe there would be no Yun Yongzhou now.
But as always, his “ying ying ying” was ignored.
“Sounds so mystical.” Wei Huan smirked and wiggled his wrist. “So… you didn’t name it or anything?”
“I did.”
Wei Huan’s eyes lit up. “You did? What’s it called?”
“Shouhuan.”
“Huh? Just… bracelet?”
“Mm. Just ‘Shou Huan*.’”
Chinese word from both of their name
Another novel completed!!! Thank you to all the readers who joined us on this journey and supported my translations, it really does mean a lot!!! <3 If you enjoyed the translations and the novel, please make sure to give the novel a good rating and review on Novelupdates or donate on Ko-fi or Paypal <3P.S. Go check out the other amazing novels being translated on this site :))
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