Chapter 27
Did nothing.
Just stood there.
Watching him.
Because even now—Even after stabilizing him—Even after understanding more than she should have—One thought refused to leave her.
Healing him… isn't the hard part.
Her gaze hardened slightly.
More focused now.
More aware.
Understanding him is.
Wei Zhi stood there for a moment longer, the quiet in the room settling around her like a thin veil. Wuming's breathing remained steady behind her, slow and even, as if nothing had ever happened. As if the storm she had just witnessed inside him did not exist.
She turned away.
Silently.
Her steps were light, measured, carrying her toward the inner side of the room. She changed into simpler clothes, the soft fabric a quiet contrast to the tension still lingering in her body. There was no rush in her movements now—only a kind of controlled fatigue, the kind that came after pushing past one's limits.
Once done, she reached for a bedsheet.
Not the bed.
The floor.
She spread it out neatly over the cold surface, smoothing it once with her palm before lowering herself down. No pillow. No blanket. Just the bare minimum.
The cold didn't bother her.
Or perhaps—She preferred it.
She lay flat on her back, one arm resting lightly over her stomach, the other beside her. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening as her thoughts began to settle into place.
Why… did he come to me?
The question rose quietly.
But it didn't leave.
It stayed.
Circling.
Persistent.
Her brows knit slightly, just enough to show the disturbance beneath her otherwise calm expression.
Does he really know about me…?
A pause.
A flicker of something uncertain passed through her eyes.
Did Lady Yin Fu tell him…?
The thought lingered for only a moment before she dismissed it.
No.
Her gaze hardened slightly.
She wouldn't.
Not her.
Not like that.
Silence stretched again.
But this time—It felt heavier.
Her breathing slowed, but her chest felt tight, as if something unspoken was pressing against it from within.
Then—Her thoughts turned.
Sharper.
Colder.
I…
A slight pause.
Barely noticeable.
…I am…
Her fingers curled faintly against the sheet beneath her.
The words didn't come easily.
As if even her own mind resisted forming them.
…nothing but a… failure.
The word settled harshly.
Unforgiving.
There was no emotion in her face as she thought it.
Only certainty.
A quiet, ingrained belief.
…a gift to him.
Her eyes didn't blink.
Didn't soften.
He asked for me…
A breath.
Slow.
Controlled.
…and he got me.
No pride.
No resentment in tone.
Just—
Fact.
Cold.
Final.
Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, but something deeper shifted within her.
Something darker.
I hold no love…
The words formed clearly now.
Easier.
More certain.
…for the woman who birthed me.
A faint tension ran through her jaw.
…or the father.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Neither their child.
Her expression didn't change.
But her eyes—They dimmed.
Just slightly.
I hate them.
A beat.
Despise them.
Another.
Loathe all three of them.
The silence in the room deepened.
Even Wuming's steady breathing felt distant now.
As if she had separated herself from everything around her.
I am nobody to them.
Her fingers relaxed slowly.
The tension easing—not because the thoughts left, but because they settled.
Like something long accepted.
They are just as good as dead.
The words lingered.
Then faded.
Not disappearing—Just sinking deeper.
Back to where they belonged.
Wei Zhi's eyes remained on the ceiling.
Unblinking.
Still.
And after a long while—Her breathing evened out.
Not into sleep.
Not fully.
But into something close enough.
Quiet.
Cold.
Alone.
Even in a room that was no longer empty.
Wei Zhi lay still for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to a place she rarely allowed herself to revisit.
Do I even have a reason to hate them…?
The question came quietly.
Soft.
But it didn't stay that way.
Her gaze hardened, just slightly.
Yes.
A pause.
Then firmer—Of course I do.
The answer settled without hesitation this time, cold and certain, as if it had been carved into her long ago.
Behind her—A faint shift.
Wuming stirred.
The subtle movement pulled her attention instantly. Her head turned toward him, eyes narrowing just a fraction as she watched him carefully.
He hadn't woken.
Not fully.
Just a slight movement.
But it was enough.
Her gaze lingered on his face, tracing the calmness there—the stillness, the quiet, the almost unnatural composure he carried even in unconsciousness.
And then—Her thoughts drifted back.
To earlier.
To what she had felt.
That heartbeat.
Her throat tightened slightly.
How…
Her fingers curled faintly against the sheet beneath her.
How can he be so calm…
Her eyes didn't leave him.
…so nonchalant… so composed…
A faint swallow.
…while being that angry?
The memory rose again—clear, sharp, impossible to ignore.
That rhythm.
That overwhelming force.
He breathes like nothing's wrong…
Her chest rose slowly.
But his heartbeat…
Her eyes dimmed slightly.
I can never forget it.
It wasn't just fast.
It wasn't just strong.
It was—Violent.
Relentless.
Like something alive inside him.
Something caged.
Something waiting.
It felt like a monster…
Her breathing slowed.
…trapped behind his cage.
A faint chill passed through her.
For the first time—She didn't just feel curious.
She felt afraid and worried.
Her lips parted slightly, her voice barely a whisper in her own thoughts.
I am… truly afraid.
Not of him.
Not exactly.
But of what would happen—…the day that heart unleashes everything.
Her gaze sharpened.
I pity the person who faces him that day.
Slowly, she pushed herself up from the floor.
The movement was quiet.
Careful.
Deliberate.
She moved toward the bed, her steps light despite the lingering exhaustion in her body.
She sat beside him.
Close enough to feel his presence.
Her fingers reached out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before gently brushing the strands of hair away from his forehead.
Her touch was soft.
Unconsciously so.
Her eyes studied his face now.
Clear.
Calm.
Too calm.
…he's beautiful.
The thought came without intention.
Without weight.
Just an observation.
Then—Slowly—She leaned down.
Carefully.
Her ear came to rest against his chest.
Her hand followed, placing itself lightly over his abdomen as she focused—not using qi, not using any technique, just her natural ability.
Listening.
Directly.
Deeply.
And there it was again.
That heartbeat.
Still raging.
Still furious.
Still… wrong.
Her breath hitched slightly.
Even now—Even after everything—It hadn't calmed.
It hadn't softened.
It was still there.
Burning beneath the surface.
Her fingers pressed just a little more firmly, as if trying to confirm it again.
Real.
Unchanging.
Unsettling.
"…thank you…"
The voice was hoarse.
Low.
Barely above a whisper.
But it reached her.
Wei Zhi's eyes snapped open.
She lifted her head instantly, her gaze locking onto his face.
He was awake.
Looking at her.
Calm.
As if nothing had happened.
And something inside her—Snapped.
Her hand moved before she could think.
A sharp sound cut through the room—Slap.
Her palm struck his cheek hard.
Wuming didn't react.
Not physically.
But the surprise was clear in his eyes. His golden eyes were still dim but alive.
Wei Zhi's breathing broke.
Her chin trembled.
And before she could stop it—Tears spilled.
Fast.
Uncontrolled.
"Oh God…" her voice cracked, shaking as she stared at him, "you don't know what you made me do…i could have made it worse." She cried.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, her breath uneven, her emotions spilling out in a way she hadn't allowed in a long time.
Wuming blinked.
It was his first time seeing her cry.
Confused.
Genuinely.
He looked at her, still trying to process both the slap and the tears.
"…why are you crying?" he asked, his voice quieter now, uncertain. "Did I hurt you?"
That—That made it worse.
Before he could react further—She moved.
Suddenly.
Closing the distance.
Her arms wrapped around him, one hand sliding behind his neck, pulling him closer as she buried her face against him.
Her grip tightened.
Not forceful.
But desperate.
"You scared me…" she whispered against him, her voice trembling, breath uneven.
Her fingers clenched slightly at the back of his neck.
"Don't ever do this again."
Wuming stilled for a moment.
Then—He exhaled softly.
His body had already stabilized.
He could feel it.
The pain had subsided.
His strength had returned enough.
"…I was ambushed," he said calmly, his voice steady despite everything. "I didn't do anything."
Wei Zhi shook her head immediately, her hold tightening just slightly.
"No," she said, her voice firmer now despite the tears, "you could have called me… signaled me… I wasn't that far."
A pause.
Then—Her tone shifted.
Sharp.
Accusing.
"But no… you wanted to be a hero, not a damsel in distress, right?"
Wuming sighed quietly.
There was no resistance in him.
No argument.
Just acceptance.
His hand lifted, resting lightly against her back as he gave a slow, almost absentminded pat.
"…yeah," he said simply, "it's my fault."
Inside—His thoughts moved differently.
I don't know what's happening…
His gaze shifted slightly.
But if I push her away right now…
A faint pause.
She'll probably hit me again.
A flicker of amusement touched his mind.
God… this woman is unpredictable.
Another slow breath.
His hand remained where it was.
All women are.
A faint, almost invisible smirk ghosted through his thoughts.
…and that's the best part.
Wei Zhi didn't pull away immediately.
Her grip on him loosened slowly, her breathing still uneven but no longer breaking. After a while, she calmed down enough to create a small distance between them, though she still remained close—sitting on her knees in front of him, her hands resting lightly on her lap.
Her eyes lifted to his.
Serious now.
Focused.
"What happened… exactly?"
Wuming watched her for a second.
Then answered simply—
"Well… a snake ambushed me."
A pause.
"An assassin."
Wei Zhi's eyes narrowed slightly.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Doubt.
"Carry on."
She wiped the remaining traces of tears from her face with the back of her hand, composure returning almost instantly, as if that moment of vulnerability had been locked away again.
Wuming leaned back slightly, his tone steady.
"It was a demonic snake. Contract-bound."
His gaze didn't waver.
"There was a man outside. Waiting."
He continued without pause.
"It was late. No one was around. Everyone had already left after finishing their work."
Wei Zhi's expression didn't change much—but her attention sharpened.
"What about the man?"
Wuming answered just as calmly.
"I killed him."
"I killed him."
Silence.
A brief one.
Wei Zhi nodded once.
"Okay."
Wuming blinked.
"…you're okay with it?"
She tilted her head slightly, as if the question itself was strange.
"Why not?" she said plainly. "He tried to kill you. Or at least was part of it."
A small shrug.
"In self-defense, I must assume."
Then, with a slight wave of her hand—"Or whatever."
Her tone remained casual.
"Go on. Tell me more."
Wuming looked at her, a faint hint of amusement passing through his eyes.
"And I thought I was being nice."
Wei Zhi frowned slightly.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Never mind."
She didn't press it.
Instead—"Where's the body?" she asked. "I'll go clean up your mess."
Wuming's expression shifted just slightly.
Subtle.
"I can clean up my own mess. Thank you."
But inside—His thoughts moved differently.
Too late for that.
Before coming here…
Before collapsing at her door…
He had already acted.
The moment he left that body behind, the demon infant had responded.
A silent trigger.
A quiet spell placed without effort.
Not visible.
Not traceable.
But effective.
By now—
That body no longer existed the way it should have.
Anything that fed on decay…
Anything drawn to death…
Had already been called.
Not ordinary scavengers.
Something lower.
Something hidden beneath.
The process would have been fast.
Unnatural.
Clean in its own way.
No remains.
No evidence.
No trace of what once stood there.
Just absence.
End of 27