Chapter 6: Yunqing Awakens

As dawn approached once more, inside the bedchamber of the Ghost Lord of the Shura Palace, Ghost Lantern and the Elder King of Hell waited quietly by the bedside upon receiving the news that Yan Yunqing was about to wake up. The Ghost Lord himself was also seated at the edge of the bed, keeping vigil.

Yan Yunqing, sleeping soundly on the bed, had a rosy complexion and fair skin, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to someone who had just brushed past the gates of the netherworld. The Ghost Lord was holding Yan Yunqing's hand when he suddenly felt the fingertips twitch. He looked up and saw Yan Yunqing's eyelashes flutter slightly, on the verge of waking.

For reasons unknown, the hand holding Yan Yunqing's suddenly stiffened. Almost at the exact moment Yan Yunqing opened his eyes, the Ghost Lord pulled away, and under the astonished gazes of the two attendants beside them, his figure gradually faded into invisibility.

Witnessing this behavior from the Ghost Lord, both Ghost Lantern and the Elder King of Hell could only let out a collective sigh.

At last, Yan Yunqing opened his eyes. Those eyes, like melting spring ice, were filled with a daze. After a brief moment, the fog of confusion dissipated, and his consciousness grew clear. He turned his gaze toward the figures standing by the bed and struggled to sit up. Having just awakened, he still felt somewhat weak. Ghost Lantern stepped forward to support him, helping him lean against the soft pillows.

"How is the Underworld?" Yan Yunqing asked, his voice still somewhat hoarse, carrying the lingering texture of a prolonged illness. He then looked toward the Elder King of Hell, and as they exchanged a nod, Yan Yunqing softly called out, "Father."

Ghost Lantern remained silent, allowing the Elder King of Hell to take the lead in reporting the situation. "The Underworld is safe and sound. With Ghost Lantern and me here, nothing can go wrong. You just need to recuperate for a while longer; we cannot let the people of the Underworld see you in your current state."

Yan Yunqing nodded in understanding. He glanced around the room, only to realize this was not the Hall of the King of Hell. "Where am I now?"

Ghost Lantern sighed helplessly and replied candidly, "This is the Shura Palace of the Ghost Lord. Regardless of everything else, it was he who pulled you back from the jaws of death. Yunqing, you were truly far too reckless this time. As the Lord of the Underworld, how could you disregard your own safety like that?"

Hearing this, Yan Yunqing fell silent. The memories of the moments when his soul was scattering began to awaken within him. His brows furrowed deeply. He was somewhat uncertain; at that time, it seemed he had seen that man with strands of white hair—could it be because he saved him...?

Having regained a sliver of strength, Yan Yunqing pushed aside the blankets and attempted to get up, only to collapse weakly onto the floor. Ghost Lantern and the Elder King of Hell both started in alarm and rushed forward to support him. As they drew close, they caught the sound of Yan Yunqing's low murmur: "Where is he?"

From an empty corner of the room came a sigh. The Ghost Lord helplessly manifested his form, stepped forward to help Yan Yunqing up, and with practiced ease, settled him back into bed, neatly tucking in the covers. Ghost Lantern and the Elder King of Hell discreetly took their leave, closing the door softly behind them.

Yan Yunqing stared blankly at the Ghost Lord, feeling a slight sense of reassurance. The hair of the man before him had not turned white; perhaps his memory had played tricks on him.

Finding Yan Yunqing's dazed expression rather amusing, the Ghost Lord suddenly leaned in close, broke into a bright smile, and asked, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Uncomfortable, Yan Yunqing looked away. "This room is quite fine. I suppose I was just lost in looking at it."

Looking somewhat displeased, the Ghost Lord pressed his face even closer to Yan Yunqing's field of vision. "Take another look, and look closely. Are you telling me this broken room is better than your Ghost Lord?"

Yan Yunqing’s mood, which had been somewhat heavy upon waking, softened when he caught sight of this exalted Lord bristling with indignation over a single remark. For reasons unknown, the corners of his eternally frozen iceberg of a face twitched and curved slightly upward.

Like an ephemeral night-blooming cereus, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The Ghost Lord froze entirely. His heart skipped a beat, and a blush flashed across his cheeks. Finding it utterly unbelievable that Yunqing had actually smiled, he blurted out before he could stop himself, "Yunqing, you smiled..."

The corners of Yan Yunqing's mouth stiffened slightly. Even he was startled by his own reaction, but he quickly reassembled his expressionless facade, changing the subject with a somewhat heavy-handed abruptness. "I have troubled you greatly these past few days, My Lord."

"Once your injuries heal, you may return to the Hall of the King of Hell. For now, even if staying here feels somewhat uncomfortable, you need only endure it for a few more days." Lowering his gaze, the Ghost Lord felt as though he had plummeted from the clouds back to reality. He offered a self-deprecating chuckle, stood up, and continued, "Get some proper rest. I will go prepare some food for you."

With that, the Ghost Lord departed the room decisively, though his retreating figure looked somewhat desolate and laden with exhaustion.

Yan Yunqing bit his lip. The hand he had just raised slowly sank back down. He parted his lips slightly, yet found no words to ask him to stay. This distance was fine; any closer would be improper, and any further would be equally wrong. Right now, things were just right, and in a few days, he would return to the Hall of the King of Hell.

Having spent the days following his awakening consuming the meals prepared by the Ghost Lord, Yan Yunqing felt the debilitating weakness gradually fade. Growing restless from remaining indoors, he thought of taking a stroll outside. Just as he reached the doorway, he saw the Ghost Lord standing in the courtyard, robes fluttering, wearing an expression so cold and detached he seemed on the verge of vanishing altogether.

Yan Yunqing was somewhat startled by his own sudden intuition. He lowered his gaze, masking the gloominess in his eyes. When the Ghost Lord turned his head and saw Yan Yunqing standing rigidly at the threshold, he walked over and asked, "Are you feeling cooped up?"

He figured as much; usually occupied with piles of official documents, Yunqing was likely unaccustomed to such unaccustomed leisure. Now that Yunqing was recovering well and his body was out of danger, he would undoubtedly ask to return to the Hall of the King of Hell very soon. The sense of loss in the Ghost Lord's heart spread outward, though his expression remained serene. "Since you can walk as usual, accompany me to the healing grounds one last time. After that, you may return to the Hall of the King of Hell. With the Lord of the Underworld absent for so long, public anxiety is inevitable."

A flicker of surprise crossed Yan Yunqing's eyes. Ever since he woke up, he had a nagging sense that something had changed, and it seemed to stem from this man. The man was no longer persistently tangling with him. It seemed his previous guess was correct—after a short while, one grows weary. Thinking he would feel much lighter, Yan Yunqing instead found his heart growing heavier at the thought.

Unaware of what was passing through Yan Yunqing's quiet, unchanging mind, the Ghost Lord simply stepped forward and took Yan Yunqing's hand, interlacing their fingers. From Yan Yunqing's angle, he could not see the Ghost Lord's expression, only hearing him say softly, "If you feel indebted to me for this, the solution is quite simple. I, the Ghost Lord, never save people for nothing. For the remainder of your time in the Shura Palace, you will listen to me. That way, you won't owe me anything."

Remaining silent, Yan Yunqing stubbornly stared at their joined hands. Without looking back, the Ghost Lord led Yan Yunqing toward the courtyard housing the medicinal pool. Along the covered corridor, white gauze fluttered in the breeze. As the two walked in silence, an unexplainable sorrow crept into the atmosphere.

They soon arrived at the courtyard. The medicinal pool resembled a hot spring, yet the water was far more crystal clear.

Releasing his hand, the Ghost Lord began to disrobe—though, naturally, not his own clothes. Flustered, Yan Yunqing caught the Ghost Lord's hand. "I can do it myself."

Raising an eyebrow, the Ghost Lord let go with indifference. "I personally brewed the water in this medicinal pool for its superior healing properties. While you were unconscious, I brought you here every few days to heal. Counting the days, today will be the final time, and then we are practically done."

Nodding, Yan Yunqing undressed, stepped into the pool wearing his inner trousers, and immersed himself. The Ghost Lord chuckled softly at the sight of those slightly red ear tips, then flicked his wrist, shed his own garments entirely, and stepped in as well. Wisps of mist curled over the surface of the medicinal pool as the Ghost Lord soaked at a short distance away, looking thoroughly relaxed.

Before long, a dense, piercing agony began to emanate from the depths of his bone marrow. The Ghost Lord clenched his fists tightly, not letting out a single sound. After giving his Soul-Fixing Orb to Yan Yunqing, he had devised another method, modifying the recipe of the medicinal pool water. So long as he soaked in it once a day, he could suppress the scattering of his soul. However, this method had one drawback: every time he soaked, it felt as though ten thousand ants were gnawing at his bones—an excruciating, heart-wrenching pain.

A bitter smile touched the Ghost Lord's lips. Having slept longer in recent days, he had almost forgotten the side effects of this medicinal pool. Closing his eyes, he tried to distract himself by recalling the images he had seen in the Mirror of Mirage a few days prior.

A faint smile curved the Ghost Lord's lips as sweat continuously streamed down his temples, leaving his face strikingly pale. He asked softly, "Yunqing, if I were to die, would you grieve?"

Yan Yunqing's heart tightened. Looking at the Ghost Lord's pale face, a nameless panic welled up within him. He fell silent for a long moment before answering in a subdued voice, "Everything would remain as it is."

*Everything would remain as it is?* The smile on the Ghost Lord's lips deepened, and he mentally cursed himself for a liar. He had seen it clearly: if he died, the person before him would not only grieve, but weep...

That was the first time he had ever seen Yunqing cry—crying in a way that utterly shattered his heart. Perhaps he ought to make some preparations of his own.

The pain in his body had grown numb. Lowering his gaze, the Ghost Lord continued, "If you were to die, the Underworld would have no reason to exist either. Just as I can bring it to life, I can reduce it to ruins. You must take good care of yourself."

The Ghost Lord's voice grew fainter and fainter. The numbing pain eventually bred a heavy drowsiness, and his body began to slip downward. A moment later, he was caught in Yan Yunqing's arms. Helplessly, Yan Yunqing rose, dressed himself, wrapped the Ghost Lord in garments, and lifted him horizontally, carrying him back along the original path to the bedchamber.

Though spoken as threats, the words carried not a single ounce of ruthlessness; all Yan Yunqing could hear in them was boundless worry and deep, lingering reluctance to part.

Holding the man in his arms, Yan Yunqing realized that despite having some flesh on him, he was absurdly light. Whenever he was around, the man was usually glib and frivolous, yet whenever it concerned matters of his safety, he turned dead serious in a way that startled the heart. Remembering the madness he had seen in this man when his soul was on the verge of shattering, Yan Yunqing sighed inwardly. By now, he truly believed it—this man genuinely loved him. An exalted Lord had exhausted every effort simply to treat him well. Had he truly been a bit too selfish all this time?

He shouldn't have treated him so unfairly. Walking back into the room, Yan Yunqing laid the Ghost Lord gently onto the bed, imitating the way the Ghost Lord had cared for him by tucking in the blankets and using magic to dry the damp strands of hair clinging to the Ghost Lord's somewhat emaciated face.

At last, a firm resolution formed within Yan Yunqing's heart. He had finally compromised. He would try to grow accustomed to accepting this man's kindness, accustomed to being good to him, and accustomed to sharing a future together. Perhaps that was the right path.

The lingering daze in Yan Yunqing's eyes was replaced by a growing clarity and resolve. Perhaps only by doing this could his somewhat heavy heart finally find true lightness.