Chapter 13: The Light in Her Eyes Has Faded

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around Wei Li's waist. She looked up—it was that man. Her heart felt as though caught in a strip of adhesive; looking back now, she thought she should have let him go back then.

Was she the one at fault? In the water, holding each other tightly, she couldn’t distinguish whether she felt sorrow or joy, fear or dread, worry or grief. All she knew was that her insides were churning, aching. Wen Bai pulled her abruptly from beneath the lake’s surface. As soon as they broke the water, Wei Li gasped for breath, having choked on the water. Her eyes were shut tight, her body limp and powerless, collapsing into his arms, breathless, her drenched ebony hair cascading down, her entire being exuding a fragile beauty, soft as a lotus freshly risen from the water, so delicate she seemed about to melt into his embrace.

“To think you still believe a demon’s words—how adorably foolish,” Wen Bai’s deep, inky gaze brimmed with a chilling, devouring coldness.

Wei Li kept her eyes closed, her body trembling even harder. She’d once loved this man so deeply, but now she was afraid—afraid of the wounds he gave her. She had hidden for centuries, yet he still found her. The more she thought, the more desolate she became. She clutched her wet hair, pressed her chest as if to restrain her sorrow. When she opened her eyes, they shimmered with unshed tears, like wild grapes beaded with dewdrops, glimmering with unsettled fear.

Wen Bai’s peach blossom eyes, their tips slightly raised, curved in amusement.

“Wen Bai…” Sorrow flitted through Wei Li’s gaze. “I’ve repaid everything I owed you. Will you still not let me go?”

Wen Bai narrowed his profound eyes, his gaze lingering on her. He rose and looked at her soaked, disheveled clothes, a few strands of dark hair wetly plastered to her forehead—a picture of utter distress. “Why are you granted immortality, while I must exist only by attaching my soul to another?” His voice was as cold as winter’s water.

“What you gave me, I never wanted at all.” Wei Li lifted her head, her eyes growing even deeper.

After Wen Bai left, Wei Li returned to the temple, spiritless and adrift. As she stepped inside, Guangzong, engaged in prayer, saw her completely drenched. He raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

At the sight of Guangzong, a wave of unspeakable grievance and sadness suddenly overwhelmed Wei Li. Tears rushed to her eyes as she threw her arms around his waist. “Guangzong, I’m so afraid…”

For the first time, Guangzong saw tears in her eyes and felt the chill and tremor of her small body. He gently stroked her wet hair. “Change your clothes.”

Wei Li shook her head, stubbornly holding his waist. For once, Guangzong thought this child was so fragile, as if she might shatter at the lightest touch. “You’ll catch cold.”

A gentle warmth slowly enveloped Wei Li from the crown of her head. Guangzong’s voice, slightly husky, drifted by her ear. Each word, to Wei Li, was like sitting by a window in December as snow fell, savoring a steaming cup of coffee—the aroma curling in the air, the warm liquid sliding down her throat, spreading heat through her entire body.

With a resigned sigh, Guangzong carried Wei Li inside, tossed dry clothes on the bed, and said, “Go change.” Then he closed the door behind him.

Wei Li changed into clean clothes. Remembering Guangzong’s tenderness, she closed her eyes—it was as if she’d just awoken from a sweet dream, reluctant to let go of its lingering taste. When she finished and opened the door, she found Guangzong had already removed the robe she’d soaked, standing bare-chested as he reached for another. There was a hint of surprise on his face, but before he could react, Wei Li darted into his arms again. She felt the heat radiating from him, his breath growing heavier. Nervously, she clenched her fists, then, with a slight smile, said, “Monk, are you trying to seduce me?” She looked up, unsurprised to find the darkening hue in his brown eyes.

She sensed Guangzong tense abruptly. He turned with her in his arms, setting her down on a chair. Wei Li closed her eyes, waiting for him, but what she received was a dry towel—Guangzong was drying her hair.

Wei Li gazed at Guangzong, confused. It was as if fragments of starlight flickered in his eyes. Her own eyes shone with prideful mischief as she extended a fair hand toward him. “Monk.” She tilted her head, baring her slender white neck and exposed collarbone.

“Yes?” Guangzong paused.

“I was serious last time when I asked you to leave the order,” Wei Li said, narrowing her gaze and extending her hand, her eyes lingering on his face.

Guangzong’s expression flickered; he chuckled softly but said nothing, nor did he take her hand.

Still, Wei Li stubbornly held her hand out, gazing at him with a faint ache.

“It’s late. Go to sleep.”

When Guangzong had spoken, he returned to his meditation room, but inside, he was far from calm. As he was lost in self-reproach, a pair of arms suddenly circled him from behind. Guangzong froze—she remained motionless, as if lifeless.

“Wei Li…” Guangzong’s voice trembled.

“Let me hold you,” Wei Li finally replied, her voice tinged with bittersweet sorrow.

In that instant, the final barrier in Guangzong’s heart collapsed. In that moment, he had the illusion that he wanted this child to hold him forever.

Wei Li clung to him with increasing boldness and affection, her breath warm and damp against his neck.

Guangzong shuddered involuntarily, his brows knitting.

That night, sleep eluded Guangzong.

All he could see was Wei Li’s bright, sparkling eyes—deep and clear, like twin pools of water, always gazing at him with a watery gleam, stirring his heart. He gritted out through clenched teeth, “You’re a monk, you’re a monk!” as if warning himself not to cross the line, that he and Wei Li could never be.

But it was useless.

His heart and mind were about to burst from thoughts of her face, her smile. He sat up abruptly, emotion roiling in his deep eyes. He rose and walked outside the temple, gazing at the sky veiled in faint starlight, as if shrouded behind a silken curtain—distant, indistinct.

“Buddha, what should your disciple do?” The conflicting emotions twisted painfully inside him.

The next morning, Wei Li woke to see Guangzong packing his things. Tilting her head in confusion, she asked, “Monk, where are you going?”

Guangzong’s hands paused, then he continued, “There’s a Dharma assembly at White Horse Temple; the abbot has summoned me to return and pray for a month.”

“You never mentioned this before.” Wei Li knew she couldn’t attend the assembly, but hearing he would be gone for over a month, she felt a pang of disappointment. “And you’re not worried I’ll go on a killing spree while you’re away?”

“I trust you.”

Hearing this, Wei Li’s heart brimmed with happiness, though she kept her face impassive and helped him pack. After Guangzong left, it was only a short while before an uninvited guest arrived at the temple.

Wei Li had expected Wen Bai to come looking for her, but not so soon. Fortunately, the fox appeared in time, giving Wei Li some support. The fox sat beside her, glanced sidelong at Wen Bai with slanted eyes, and drawled, “I wonder what kind of wind blew such an honored guest here today.”

“My dear Li, do you have time today? The lotuses in my garden are in full bloom. Allow your husband to take you to admire them,” Wen Bai ignored the fox, speaking to Wei Li with shameless flattery.

“Oh? That tiny, shabby house of yours? You think it can accommodate our Wei Li, this—what? Husband?” The fox instantly jumped up, panic flashing across his face as he stared at Wei Li.

“Yes, I am Li’s husband.” Wen Bai remained composed.

“Wen Bai…” Wei Li gazed at him coldly, mocking. “Then why didn’t you let me go in the first place?”

She’d crawled out of the blood pool, covered in wounds, barefoot across a desolate, barren land. Blood—crimson blood—poured from her body, drop by drop, leaving a long, smeared trail behind her.

Countless times she’d fallen, gasping for air, wiping blood from her lips, struggling to stand.

Her heart had been left riddled with wounds by him.

Yet, she still longed for life.

Now, looking back, death would have been a mercy.

“Isn’t immortality a blessing? Free from sickness and death.” Wen Bai couldn’t bear to see the coldness in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s wonderful… truly wonderful…” Wei Li’s gaze grew ever colder.

A sharp pain stabbed Wen Bai’s chest. She’d rarely looked at him like this before; his memory of her was always of innocence and vivacity.

But the light in her eyes was gone.

Centuries had passed, yet Wei Li could still move his heart.

For the first time, Wen Bai felt a pang of guilt.

Unconsciously, he pulled her into his arms—so small, she seemed to melt into him, just as she had back then.

That year, their first meeting, their chance encounter, their embrace—he had shielded her from thundering hooves. The moment felt frozen in eternity.

Wei Li stood stunned for a long while. “Li…” Only when his cool voice sounded above her head did she realize this was no dream—his voice, his embrace, so warm, so familiar.

In an instant, her heart was in turmoil. The fear and sorrow this man gave her, all the horrors of a nightmare—how could he embrace her so easily again? How could he…

Wei Li tried to push him away, but his grip was too strong, as if he wanted to fuse her into his very chest. “Let me go!” she struggled.

The fox’s face darkened instantly. He pulled Wei Li from Wen Bai’s arms and shielded her behind him. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Matters between husband and wife are none of your business, outsider.”

The fox’s green eyes blazed with fury. He seized Wen Bai’s collar and landed a punch. Wen Bai didn’t dodge, taking the blow head-on. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained as arrogant as ever. “It seems someone wants to fight me for Li.” His tone betrayed not the slightest wavering.