THE DAYS WENT BY rather peacefully.

Fu Jing bathed regularly under the watchful eye of Xuan Qi. Apparently, the demon wanted someone to tend to Fu Jing during his baths, but didn’t want anyone else—not even the servants—to see him naked. Fu Jing had explained several times that he didn’t need assistance, but Xuan Qi insisted.

As requested, Fu Jing slept in Xuan Qi’s bed every night, and true to his word, the demon never laid a finger on him. Fu Jing was almost content. He had no responsibilities, could idle his days away and quench his curiosity by exploring the area. Best of all, he was well-fed; somehow these demons were remarkably skilled in preparing human cuisine.

Once he knew the palace inside out, he finally dared to venture further—up to the forest from whence he’d come.

Beyond the palace’s walls, however, the landscape offered little variation: endless stretches of grassy fields, interrupted only by the occasional small hill. The wide meadows extended toward forests on either side of the palace.

Though he was itching to check out the opposite forest, Fu Jing forced himself to stay focused—he couldn’t get sidetracked. His goal was to return to his own home in the human realm after all.

He gradually expanded his range of exploration, creating a mental map of all the safe zones and dangerous areas until he felt confident enough to leave.

One morning, at the break of dawn, when the palace was still cloaked in silence, Fu Jing finally mustered the courage to sneak away.

Fearing that Xuan Qi might catch up with him, Fu Jing pushed forward relentlessly, never stopping for long on his way back to the realm gate. Thus, it took him less than two days to reach it.

As he stood before the gate, the anticipation of finally leaving this wretched place bubbled in his chest. He’d been trapped in the demon realm long enough—it was time to go home!

He took an eager step forward, his heart hammering with excitement. But instead of passing through the gate, his foot slammed into something solid, as if he’d kicked an invisible wall.

Fu Jing froze, staring at the gate in dismay.

No…

He tentatively placed a hand against the gate, only to have his suspicions confirmed: there was an invisible barrier blocking his way.

He’d already wondered why none of his companions had come looking for him after who-knew-how-long he’d been here. Now it all made sense.

It also explained why his journey here had been so smooth in the first place. Why no one had bothered to stop him.

Because someone had sealed the gate.

And Fu Jing didn’t need to think twice to know who that someone was.

No, no, no, no…

Panic surged as Fu Jing repeatedly slapped the barrier, each strike becoming more frantic.

Before fear and anger could entirely consume his heart, he forced himself to focus. Panicking wouldn’t help him right now.

There had to be a way.

Maybe he could break the barrier.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and entered a meditative state, pushing past his frustration to gather his inner qi.

Without his spiritual weapon, it took a while to channel enough spiritual energy into his palms. When he finally unleashed a blast against the unseen barrier, the swirling light between the two pillars intensified, spiralling faster.

But it wasn’t enough.

Even after gathering as much qi as was physically possible in his current state, it wasn’t strong enough to break anything.

Fu Jing pressed his trembling hands against the barrier and slowly sank to his knees. With his forehead against the unyielding surface, he began to sob. He clawed at the earth, tearing at the grass surrounding the gate. But it was no use. His rage gradually built up inside him until it burst out of him in a furious roar.

“XUAN QI!!!”

His yell ended in a pitiful, broken wail, his fury collapsing into despair. He doubled over, resting his head on his arms, his body wracked with miserable sobs.

By the time he’d cried himself dry, exhaustion had settled deep into his bones. His breath came in heavy pants as he slowly lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the gate in a silent glare.

As much as Fu Jing resented the thought, with his only chance of escape thwarted, he had to admit defeat. He couldn’t break the barrier, and he had nowhere else to go.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet, his legs heavy, his mind a jumbled mess.

As he trudged back to the palace, he walked without pause, clinging to his grudge against Xuan Qi like a lifeline. He would have his vengeance. No matter what—he would kill that demon.

He returned to the palace two days later, utterly devastated. Upon entering the palace’s grand entrance hall, he was immediately greeted by two yao servants.

Fu Jing was the very picture of misery—his skin a ghastly pale, accompanied by dark circles under his eyes and dishevelled hair. He cut right to the chase. “Where is Xuan Qi?”

“Out, sir.”

Fu Jing clenched his jaw, reigning in his fury. “When will he be back?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

Fu Jing blew an exasperated sigh through his nose. With no other choice but to wait, he headed straight for the palace spring to calm his nerves and soothe his spirit. It had been four days since he’d had a proper bath after all.

Under the soft glow of the moonlight, Fu Jing was thoroughly scrubbing his body when his peace and quiet was interrupted by a familiar deep voice.

“Human.”

Fu Jing froze for a moment, then couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Of course the demon had to show up now, of all times. Wet and naked as Fu Jing was, there was no way he’d just jump out and fight Xuan Qi, so he continued to wash his body.

Without looking up, he retorted, “It’s Fu Jing.”

Xuan Qi pursed his lips. “You tried to escape.”

Fu Jing flinched but quickly schooled his expression. Feigning nonchalance, he cleared his throat. “Are you surprised?”

After a long stretch of silence, Xuan Qi asked, “Are you not happy?”

This question caught Fu Jing off guard, like an unexpected slap across his face. His movements halted once more before he turned to face Xuan Qi with wide eyes.

The demon stood right behind him, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was uncharacteristically stern, devoid of his usual smirk.

“Happy?” Fu Jing echoed sharply. “How could I be happy? I miss my family. My friends. The sunlight! My silver armour, proper conversations—I miss being surrounded by humans! How could I possibly be happy as a prisoner?”

Xuan Qi scoffed. “You’ve been free to roam around for weeks, yet you call yourself a prisoner? Ridiculous.”

“I’m hardly free if I can’t leave,” Fu Jing said coolly. With that off his chest, he squared his shoulders and demanded in a calm but firm tone, “Open the gate.”

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“I can’t let you leave.”

Furious, Fu Jing slammed a hand against the stone ground, nearly jumping out of the water. “Why?! Why are you so desperate to keep me here?!”

Xuan Qi let out a dry, humourless laugh. “Why did you capture me? I hadn’t done anything.”

Fu Jing was stumped for a moment, then seriously pondered the question. Why had he captured him?

Because he wanted him as a trophy. Because he needed to set an example, to keep other demons away!

But unlike demons, humans didn’t run around, spreading chaos and destruction!!

“…” Fu Jing let his body slump back against the smooth stones that encircled the warm water. It was impossible to reason with a demon.

He tilted his head back, his gaze drifting to the inky sky above. In a voice that resembled a sigh, he murmured, “I want to feel the sun…”

Xuan Qi glanced up as well, his attention caught by the moon. Shrouded in clouds all day, its sudden visibility seemed to stir something in him.

A dull ploff sounded behind Fu Jing, followed by a sense of unease creeping up his spine.

Suddenly, a soft, rhythmic dripping sound echoed behind Fu Jing.

A sense of unease crawled up his spine. With wary eyes, he turned to look—only to be met with the very sight he’d dreaded.

Right in front of him, a dark pool of blood spread across the stones.

Fu Jing’s eyes, wide with horror, slowly wandered up. Xuan Qi had slashed a deep gash across his wrist, dark crimson spilling down his arm. Fu Jing’s chest tightened with something between panic and disbelief.

Even though he was still damp from the spring water, an extra layer of cold sweat had formed on his skin. He swallowed hard, squeezing out a few strained words.

“I’m leaving.”

Xuan Qi’s face was hard to read, but it seemed to be even darker than before. “No, you won’t.”

Fu Jing’s stomach dropped. Intense fear gripped his mind, paralysing his entire body.

Not again!

He immediately moved to climb out of the spring, but Xuan Qi had already crouched down, his hand clamping onto Fu Jing’s shoulder as firmly as an iron clasp, holding him in place.

Still fully clothed, Xuan Qi stepped into the bath, one leg after the other, the water rippling around him.

Fu Jing stared at him in dismay, his voice hoarse. “Don’t.”

Xuan Qi didn’t respond. He simply held his gaze, his sinister expression pinning Fu Jing more effectively in place than his grip.

The atmosphere was crackling with tension. For a moment, all Fu Jing could hear was the soft drip, drip, drip of blood into the bathwater, the droplets colouring the surface a faint red.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Xuan Qi raised his wrist to his lips and filled his mouth with blood once again.

“Wait–” Fu Jing pleaded. “I promise I won’t run away again, you don’t have to do this!”

But Xuan Qi ignored him.

Instead, he seized Fu Jing’s jaw, tilted his face upward, and leaned in.

Panicked, Fu Jing screeched, “Don’t!!”

He slapped Xuan Qi’s arms, his chest, anything he could reach, trying to push him away. But the demon was like an immovable boulder.

Irritated by Fu Jing’s thrashing, Xuan Qi caught his wrists in one hand, locking them down before pressing their lips together and, once again, pouring his blood into Fu Jing’s mouth.

Fu Jing’s eyes snapped open, small, pleading whimpers escaping his throat.

When Xuan Qi pulled back after forcing every last drop into Fu Jing, he released the tight grip on Fu Jing’s wrists. 

The coppery taste of demon blood coated his tongue like bitter poison. It didn’t take long for the searing pain to surge through Fu Jing’s body.

He gasped, clutching the demon’s arms in sheer desperation. His body burned, each jolt of painful cramps amplifying his resentment toward the demon.

It wasn’t long before hot tears of anguish spilled down his face. This time, it was near impossible to stifle his sobs. His composure shattered, his body betraying him—no matter how hard he fought, he could no longer restrain his reactions.

He cried out in agony, his nails digging deep into the demon’s skin. Xuan Qi remained in position, almost as if steadying Fu Jing, making sure he wouldn’t drown.

After a long while, numbness settled over his body once more. Only when it felt as if his insides were thoroughly charred, did the pain subside—and with it, Fu Jing’s agonised sobs.

Once the torment was over, his grip on Xuan Qi slackened. Yet, he stayed where he was, struggling to steady his ragged breaths.

Amid the crushing misery, a fresh surge of fury ignited within him, prompting Fu Jing to slap Xuan Qi soundly across the face.

The sharp crack echoed through the courtyard.

Fu Jing glared at the demon before shoving him away and clambering out of the spring. Tears still streaming down his face, he snatched his robe and stormed off without so much as a backward glance.

It didn’t take long for Xuan Qi to find Fu Jing. In fact, Fu Jing was waiting for him at the bottom of the magnificent marble stairs.

His first instinct had been to run as far away as possible, but where could he go? Hadn’t he come back with the resolve to kill the demon after all?

The two stood in silence for a while, facing each other beneath the unrelenting glow of the moon.

Fu Jing stared the demon down, his red-rimmed eyes brimming with disdain. Xuan Qi returned his glare with a tired look on his face.

Fu Jing was the first to speak.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was calm yet filled with spite.

Xuan Qi didn’t answer right away.

After a moment, he smirked. “Maybe you’re my favourite toy.”

“T–” Fu Jing couldn’t believe his ears. “I’m not a toy!”

He took a deep breath to collect himself. “Is this why you’re keeping me? So you can ‘play’ with me whenever you feel like it?!”

Xuan Qi shrugged.

A bitter laugh erupted from Fu Jing. 

“I should’ve known better. I never should’ve trusted this peace,” he said, mocking himself more than Xuan Qi. His expression hardened again.

“Listen to me carefully,” he bit out, each word as sharp as a blade. “I resent you. I loathe you. I hate you.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly approached Xuan Qi with each sentence.

And with each sentence, Xuan Qi’s smile waned until he was looking down at Fu Jing with a sombre face.

“Lock me back in the dungeon. I’d rather sleep in a cell than share the bed with you for another night.”

After spitting out those final words, Fu Jing shot Xuan Qi one last glare before strutting past him.

Outside the palace, he picked a table on the main road, where he’d sit in silent protest, ready to get locked up.

But Xuan Qi never came.