Three days after the wedding, Mingyue and the others returned to the Green Jade Peaks. Jixue didn’t bother seeing them off however, opting to stay in bed, curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets. He was tired, and significantly more uncomfortable than sore as he pushed himself back up, taking stock of both the room and of himself.
Thankfully, it seemed as though that latest round had taken any lingering hormonal fuckery with it, and Jixue hoped that it would be a long time before he experienced anything even remotely similar – preferably never, but Jixue knew better than to assume that he’d be allowed to get away with that.
Granted, next time around probably wouldn’t be quite as bad – and if it was, then additional suppressions were definitely in order.
With a heavy sigh, he looked around, hissing slightly as the movement pulled on the skin on his nape. The wound there had already healed, but it had left something behind; a faint bond that now filled a portion of the space previously occupied by System 225. This one was quite different from what he’d once had with the latter though.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Jixue again took stock of his own form. He was bare, wings and loose hair the only things giving him any sort of modesty, and his clothes were nowhere in sight. Jixue did feel surprisingly clean though, and freshness of the sheets and relative absence of certain smells certainly indicated a thing or two.
His new mate was nowhere to be found though, and while Jixue was mildly annoyed by this, he also found himself somewhat relieved. Because honestly, given everything that had gone down in recent weeks, he needed some time to, well, adjust to a whole bunch of things.
“Fucking hormones,” he muttered, checking his own condition. “Fucking instincts.”
At this point however, Jixue’s hormone levels had long since dropped, and with both his physical needs and his curiosity thoroughly sated, he was far more inclined to focus on other things.
“Where are my damned clothes?”
A short search unearthed none of them, which was annoying. Because while those clothes might not have belonged to him originally, they had been given to him, and as such, Jixue was decidedly annoyed to have had them taken from him. Logically, they had probably been taken away with the bedding to be washed, but still, Jixue was annoyed.
However, he wasn’t quite so annoyed that he wouldn’t accept the apparent substitute, which he found neatly folded on a chair nearby. Because while Jixue disapproved of Àiyǎn’s actions, he wasn’t about to express them by walking around naked.
Instead, he tugged on the robes, cursing those damned wings of his as he struggled to fit them through the back. Because Jixue had actually believed that his lowered hormone levels would’ve allowed him to retract them, but alas, it simply wasn’t so.
With an irritated huff, he flopped down on the edge of the bed to put on the graciously offered footwear. And as he did so, he inevitably noticed it; the bangle.
Àiyǎn had put it on him; a nifty little tracking device to allow Jixue to be easily found and retrieved, should he decide to leave. Of course, if things had gone according to the official plan, then Jixue would’ve left anyway, and that damned bracelet wouldn’t have made even the slightest bit of a difference.
And in truth, it didn’t make the slightest bit of a difference now either. It didn’t make the slightest bit of a difference because while Jixue’s expertise had always been medicinal cultivation, this was by no means his only skill.
Any transmigrator worth their salt knew how to lockpick after all, whether the locks in questions were mechanical or... well, magical.
As such, Jixue bent down and touched the bangle with both hands, trying to get a feel for the metal and for the energies contained within.
It was like some damned ankle monitor, he thought. It was like some damned ankle monitor, except it was powered by qi rather than by electricity, and it was keyed to a particular qi signature, as opposed to⸺ well, whatever ankle monitors were sealed with; some electronic key, probably.
Frankly, Jixue did not know and even if he wanted to know, that particular piece of information would be absolutely useless to him.
However, what really mattered was that Jixue did know how to remove this thing. Because yes, on one hand, it was designed to be difficult to remove and keyed to respond only to the qi signature of the one who’d initially sealed it. However⸺
Jixue focused his internal energy, redirecting it. Thinking of the bangle as an electronic lock definitely helped, and thanks to both the mating bond and to a recent bout of dual cultivation, Jixue had enough to mimic the other’s signature, just enough to trick the thing.
The bangle resisted a little. It resisted a little but ultimately gave way, expanding to its original size.
Slipping it right off, Jixue reasoned that he could’ve just as easily destroyed the thing. That would’ve undoubtedly alerted Àiyǎn though, and Jixue didn’t want that. This wasn’t his only reason for refraining though; this was also about proving a point.
“I agreed to be courted, not to be kept,” Jixue muttered, placing the bangle neatly atop a nearby pillow. And with this done, he finished dressing and then proceeded to do something about his hair, foregoing the jade crown in favour of a simple cord. Jixue did bring the thing along though, shoving it inside of the mostly empty spatial ring he’d managed to locate – one of Mingyue’s spares, judging by the feel of it.
The discovery of this seeming gesture of care greatly warmed Jixue’s heart, but that in itself did not mean that the other’s transgressions were forgiven.
Jixue was in a foul mood, and those damned wings of his itched to be put to use.
Putting his hand on the door, Jixue confirmed that at least, Àiyǎn hadn’t locked him in. He’d only locked other people out, and which was a sound attitude from a security standpoint. That said however⸺
Opening the doors, Jixue confirmed what he’d already sensed from the inside. There was no one guarding the doors.
Sloppy, he thought, disapproving. But at the same time, Jixue felt a definite rush of triumph, continuing to mask his presence as he stepped out.
It didn’t take long for him to find exactly what he needed – a window large enough to fit through; unwarded and an obvious security hazard. Jixue honestly didn’t care though, because he’d be going out for a ‘walk’.
Leaving without saying anything might’ve been a stupid decision. However, staying might’ve proven an even more detrimental one. Besides, Jixue needed this; he needed to go outside and roam this world that he was now permanently stuck in.
The knowledge of the latter proved a definite source of frustration as well, and Jixue needed to vent, and preferably not by throwing tantrums at the Demon King’s court.
Flying proved both easier and harder than anticipated. It was easier, because it technically wasn’t his first time flying. But it was also harder, because both his body and his wings were significantly larger and heavier this time around.
Besides, Jixue didn’t really need to fly. Much like cultivators didn’t need wings to defy gravity, neither did he. Granted, he didn’t really have a sword on him right now, but⸺
Deciding that he had made it far enough, Jixue finally descended, and once he did, he nearly immediately fell to his knees.
His wings ached; the muscles were clearly strained.
“Fucking useless,” he muttered, preparing to gather qi in order to speed up their recovery.
While doing so however Jixue paused, suddenly noticing something he hadn’t noticed before. He touched his chest, resting his hand atop his dantian.
Jixue hadn’t really paid that much attention to it earlier, but looking at it now, it had definitely grown. It had definitely grown, and it had definitely grown significantly over the last couple of days. And if this was how much his own cultivation had progressed in such a short amount of time, then just how powerful had Àiyǎn become?
“Fuck.”
That was an absolutely terrifying thought, and for a brief moment, Jixue found that he couldn’t breathe. The realisation about the Demon King wasn’t the only thing leaving him breathless however.
It wasn’t the only thing, because Jixue had noticed something else. He brought his other hand downwards, joining the first where it now rested atop his lower abdomen, right atop his lower dantian, confirming what Jixue’s instincts had already told him – that his spiritual core wasn’t the only thing growing inside of him.
It was only a clump of cells – only a small clump of cells, barely noticeable. It was steadily growing though, quietly feeding on Jixue’s spiritual energy; a tiny little parasite.
But how? How had this come about?
“Fuck.”
Jixue didn’t know, and now, there was no System to consult for possible answers or solutions. There was no mentor either, no Master Bai – because Bai Yiling had since long ascended, leaving this world behind for the Heavens.
And Mingyue? Mingyue was a definite last resort. Jixue couldn’t rely on him – not for this – and as much as Jixue would’ve liked to rely on Àiyǎn, he couldn’t do that either. He couldn’t, because as the Demon King, Àiyǎn was bound to the court, somewhere Jixue couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay, because it would be too risky. He couldn’t, because⸺
Even if Àiyǎn managed to stay in control, there were others, and depending on Jixue’s own condition, he might not be able to⸺
“Fuck.”
He had to go. Jixue had to go figure shit out and deal with this, somehow.
“Fuck!”
He took flight.
Looking back, Jixue should’ve really just gone back – or, failing that, he should’ve really just stayed where he was and waited to be found. In either case, he could’ve gone back and told Àiyǎn the news or pretended that nothing was amiss.
He could’ve even made sure that nothing was amiss, knowing exactly which substances to use in such a case. That knowledge primarily pertained to humans though, and at this point, Jixue wasn’t sure how well it would’ve worked on him – if it would’ve worked at all, that is.
At this point however, the point was moot, and in hindsight, Jixue could acknowledge that he had indeed panicked and made some potentially questionable decisions and judgements based largely on hormones and instinct.
At this point though, the situation was what it was, and Jixue could only deal with it accordingly – and he could only deal with it alone, hidden away in a surprisingly spacious cave in the frozen wastelands up north.
Truth to be told, Jixue wasn’t entirely sure how he’d come across it, because a lot of the events immediately preceding it was something of a blur. It didn’t really matter though, honestly. It didn’t matter, and it didn’t matter how much time had passed and how much time still remained – because while Jixue was decidedly unsure about the former, he was growing increasingly sure of the latter.
Soon, he thought, stroking his bulging stomach. And indeed, it would have to be soon, because otherwise, neither he nor the chick would survive the ordeal.
Getting the egg out the natural way obviously wouldn’t work either, because it was simply too big.
Jixue wasn’t sure he agreed with the biology of that. But in the end, his opinions hardly mattered. His opinions hardly mattered, because facts were facts, no matter how much Jixue himself might have disagreed with them. Perhaps this was due to the contrastive genetics, or perhaps this was simply how things worked.
In any case, at this point, Jixue had already largely figured out what he had to do: He had to cut open his stomach to extract the egg, and then stitch himself back up before he bled out.
Waiting much longer wasn’t an alternative either. Because if Jixue waited too long, then the egg might well hatch while still inside of him, and then they would both die.
The chick’s death would likely be relatively quick though, whereas Jixue’s own death would probably involve not just internal injuries but likely sepsis as well. Because the latter was indeed possible, even for someone like him.
Granted, Jixue probably wouldn’t stay dead; there was no real guarantee for that. At the same time though, there was no real guarantee that he would immediately revive either, and he rather doubted the chick would have the same odds as he did.
Had Jixue realised this ahead of time, then he would’ve probably acted differently. He would’ve swallowed his pride and other grievances and gone to Mingyue at the Green Jade Peaks, even if he’d sworn off on ever really returning to the latter.
Failing that, he would’ve probably made contact in some other fashion and potentially had Mingyue come to him – because despite everything else that would’ve come of it, having an additional pair of hands would’ve definitely helped.
Then again, considering the matter at hand, then perhaps turning to Mingyue’s disciple would’ve been better?
Well, in any case, it was too late now. It was too late.
With his body in such a state, it was a given that he wouldn’t manage the flight, and unless either the Demon King or his presumptive heir had ever frequented this region before, then it was unlikely that help would reach him in time. Also, Jixue didn’t really feel like dealing with it all – with Mingyue’s antics, or with Àiyǎn’s undoubted panic. He could do this. Jixue could take care of himself.
“Okay,” he huffed. “Let’s⸺”
He’s lucky to be alive, they’d said.
He’s lucky to be alive, they’d said, and his parents had cried and cried and cried and thanked the heavens up above right until⸺
⸺the doctor’s final verdict arrives, and You Bingleng learns that he will never walk again, and that he’s unlikely to ever regain much mobility below the neck.
And while his parents cry and cry, You Bingleng can’t really find it in himself to do the same. He’s just there, just numb, just like the rest of him. And it isn’t just the shock. It isn’t just the pain medication. It isn’t just the realisation that he will only ever be a burden – a painstaking investment that would ultimately never pay off.
It isn’t only that. It’s that, but there’s more. There’s more, like that vivid memory of a firm push from behind – that moment of confusion, followed by realisation.
There’s also his classmate from university, standing there at the door, and there’s another beside him – a distraught young woman with a large bouquet of flowers.
It’s the daughter of a family friend, whom he’d previously tutored; his nominal fiancée, according to some. And no matter the case, it hardly matters now, because once the girl has left the flowers and cried and cried and poured her heart out to him, You Bingleng’s classmate comforts her in turn and then escorts her out with his arm laid across her trembling shoulders.
That isn’t the end of it though. There are the other’s words, sure, but in the end, they mean nothing. They mean nothing, because You Bingleng knows. You Bingleng remembers.
Bastard, he thinks, watching as his would-be murderer slinks away like a coward.
Briefly, he considers mentioning it to others, but ultimately, he decides not to. After all, what is the point? What’s done is done, and even with the surveillance cameras down at the train station, the swarming crowd had likely obscured any definite proof – and even if it hadn’t, You Bingleng knows that his classmate hails from a powerful family, and as ever, money talks – or ensures that others won’t.
In fact, he is fairly certain that even his own parents won’t – because honestly, why opt to pursue justice and risk losing everything when one can instead just stay quiet and accept the hush money? Medical treatment isn’t free after all, and if You Bingleng can’t financially support them later on, then⸺
He briefly thinks about the girl. He briefly thinks about telling her – about warning her and whatnot. He briefly thinks about it, much like he briefly considers warning his former classmate about her. He ultimately doesn’t though, because honestly, that’s none of his business at this point.
I’m not going to say anything, he thinks, closing his eyes. You bastards deserve one another.
Later on, he opens his eyes to the darkness of his hospital room to find a glowing orb hovering right above him.
[Will you form a contract with me, You Bingleng?]
Why not, he thinks. It isn’t as though this world has anything left for him to miss, is there?
Above him, there’s a light – a light accompanying a featherlike touch on his mind which then envelops him until the dark and bloodied waters rise once more.
