Into The Sea

Soft, warm patches of sunlight dappled the bed linens, and barely visible dust motes danced in the rays streaming through the window. The woman on the bed stirred, her long lashes fluttering before she slowly opened her eyes, then groaned and shut them again.

Someone behind her murmured, “Awake?”

Ji Lingyue opened her mouth, but her throat felt parched, and her head throbbed. She gently massaged her temples, her ears twitching unconsciously.

…Wait, ears?

Ji Lingyue froze, lifting her hand to touch the fluffy ears on top of her head. In an instant, the memory of her shameless pursuit of Lan Wu flooded her mind. Her body stiffened, and a blush slowly crept up her cheeks.

After a long silence, Ji Lingyue closed her eyes, slowly turning over and burying her head in Lan Wu’s chest.

Lan Wu chuckled, gently stroking her ears before sitting up to fetch a bowl of water from the bedside. She held it to Ji Lingyue’s lips, who hesitated for a moment before cautiously emerging from the covers to drink. Once finished, she burrowed back into Lan Wu’s arms, refusing to move.

This is just like a cat…

Lan Wu couldn’t help but wonder if Ji Lingyue hadn’t fully shaken off her feline instincts. She coaxed softly, “I’ve seen you in every state. What’s with the shyness now?”

A muffled voice came from her embrace, “It’s different.”

“How is it different? You just have a pair of ears… um…”

Ji Lingyue covered her mouth, her eyes rising with a mix of shyness and annoyance. “Don’t say it.”

Lan Wu nodded and, after Ji Lingyue removed her hand, said, “It’s already late afternoon.”

“Late afternoon?” Ji Lingyue jolted up. “Then Xuan Yu…”

“It’s fine.” Lan Wu pushed her back down. “I went over there while you were asleep. Your medicine can wait until tonight.”

Ji Lingyue relaxed, sitting up with her knees bent. However, she placed her arms down, resting her hands on the bed, seemingly not noticing anything odd about the position. She yawned, squinting her eyes, then wrinkled her nose, looking uncomfortable.

Seeing this, Lan Wu pulled out a jar of ointment from behind her, hesitating. “I might have been a bit rough last night. If you’re sore, you can apply this.”

Ji Lingyue stared blankly at her, only realizing the meaning after a long pause. Her face flushed, and she recoiled. “No need… Ouch…”

Lan Wu asked anxiously, “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

Ji Lingyue’s face grew even redder. Even bending her legs slightly felt like being stabbed. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, she stammered, “When… when I was asleep, why didn’t you apply the ointment?”

Lan Wu blinked, her voice hesitant. “You… you finally fell asleep. I was afraid of waking you up again. Then, we’d be doing it all day…”

Ji Lingyue was speechless.

Ji Lingyue stared at her, shocked. Her eyes were dark and bright, but the edges were gradually turning pink. The two stared at each other for a long moment before Ji Lingyue finally lowered her head, her voice filled with shame. “Then… then you can apply the ointment…”

Lan Wu couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright.”

By the time they were both presentable, the sun was already setting. Ji Lingyue stubbornly refused to go out, so Lan Wu went to fetch the medicine alone. On her way, she spotted a fox sitting by a small stream, accompanied by a nightmare beast she hadn’t seen in a while.

It was the first time Lan Wu had seen Xiao Niu since arriving here. The nightmare beast looked much rounder, even more like a lump of coal than before.

Intrigued, she tiptoed closer, overhearing the fox saying, “Make her have a lustful dream, so she can have her way with me? What kind of solution is that? Isn’t that still fake?”

Xiao Niu retorted, “What do you mean fake? The dreams I create are all drawn from the deepest memories of the host. Even if there’s some fabrication, it’s based on reality. At most, it’s half-true, half-false.”

Yao Zhu was taken aback, turning its head. “That’s even worse! If you can see her deepest memories, wouldn’t that mean you’d be watching our intimate moments?”

Xiao Niu fell silent, realizing that she had a point.

At that moment, it noticed a shadow falling from behind, turning to see Lan Wu standing behind them with a frown. Yao Zhu also reacted, turning around with wide, shocked eyes. “When did you get here? How much did you hear?”

Lan Wu ignored her, instead frowning at Xiao Niu and asking seriously, “The dreams you create are based on reality?”

Xiao Niu obediently nodded.

Lan Wu pressed her lips together, asking, “But what if I don’t remember or feel like I’ve experienced anything similar to the dream you created? What does that mean?”

“Are you talking about your dream in Yunhuang Palace?” Xiao Niu pondered. “You know, my target wasn’t you at the time, so I didn’t put much effort into crafting your dream. What you dreamed of came from your own memories. As for why you don’t remember, it’s simple,” it blinked, stating matter-of-factly, “you just forgot.”

Lan Wu frowned in confusion. “Is my memory really that bad?”

“You’re almost three hundred years old. Do you remember everything from when you were a teenager?”

Lan Wu hesitated. “No.”

Xiao Niu said knowingly, “So, if you forgot, it means it wasn’t important to you. Why bother with it?”

Lan Wu lowered her gaze, staring at the fallen petals in the stream, lost in thought. “That’s true. If I forgot, it probably… wasn’t important.”

She was carrying heavy burdens, needing to heal her wounds and wait for Yuan Zhen to decipher the text on the stone tablet, hoping he would bring good news. A dream from her childhood was not worth her time.

Lan Wu sighed, straightened up, and nodded at Xiao Niu. “Thank you for your explanation.”

With that, she turned and continued towards the kitchen. Yao Zhu called out, persistent. “Hey, how much did you hear? You won’t tell Xuan Yu, will you?”

Lan Wu waved her off. “I didn’t hear anything.”

In the vast desert of the southwest, a tiny black dot moved slowly across the sand.

The gaunt man stumbled up a sand dune, his hand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. When he saw that the landscape ahead was still an endless expanse of yellow sand, despair washed over him, and he collapsed to his knees.

The sun had traveled from the east, passed directly overhead, and was now setting in the direction he was heading. The temperature plummeted in the late hours of the night. He had walked for days, seeing no one. His last drop of water was long gone. He had no oilskin or fire starter. Only the seemingly within reach stars lit up the desolate sands. The world was vast, and he was alone in this sea of death, feeling utterly isolated, as if he were the only person left alive.

His lips were cracked and dry, and his throat was parched. If he didn’t find water soon, he was certain he would die there.

The man panted as he climbed another steep dune, only to collapse at the top, his head spinning. His consciousness was fading, and just as he was about to pass out, he heard the faint sound of camel bells.

His eyes struggled open, and he managed to roll over, looking toward the source of the sound. On the distant horizon, a caravan appeared. The man’s eyes lit up with hope, and somehow, he found the strength to stand, staggering toward them.

He shouted hoarsely, “Help! Help me!”

The closer he got, the clearer he could see. The group wore white cloaks, their appearances pristine, their faces hidden in the wide hoods, making them look mysterious.

But he was beyond caring. He rushed forward, grabbing the leader’s boot. “Please, help me. I was caught in a sandstorm and got separated from my companions. Please… take me out of here…”

The leader looked down, their shadowed eyes seemingly assessing him. After a moment, they let out an impatient click of their tongue.

It was a woman’s voice.

She lifted her hand and casually threw back her hood, revealing a cascade of silver hair. A silver leaf ornament adorned her forehead, and beneath her delicate eyebrows, a pair of blue eyes, as deep as the sea, gazed down at him. Her lips were slightly upturned, giving her a perpetually amused expression as she looked down at the man with a lazy demeanor.

The man, beneath the camel, was momentarily stunned by her beauty, but the shock was replaced by a sudden chill. He recoiled, falling back on his rear. “De-demon…”

Lan Yuan bent down, casually dusting off her boot. “Feng Yi.”

The girl beside her responded, and with a flash of blue light, the man’s cries were silenced as he fell unconscious.

Feng Yi turned her head. “Your Highness, should we kill him?”

“Kill him? He’s just an ordinary human, not a cultivator,” Lan Yuan said indifferently. “Erase his memory and dump him in Wangliang City.”

“But it will be another two days before we reach the city.”

“Then let him stay unconscious,” Lan Yuan said. “The entrance to the demon realm won’t open for another six days. Be careful these next few days. We don’t want to attract the attention of the cultivators in Wangliang City.”

Feng Yi pouted. “Wouldn’t it be safer to just leave him behind?”

Lan Yuan said lazily, “I’m in a good mood. Consider it a good deed.”

“Your Highness believes in that sort of thing?”

Lan Yuan pulled her hood back up. “I learned it from Lan Wu.”