Extra four

Cursing inwardly for a long while, Zhan Yunwei nearly exhausted every foul word she had ever learned, all directed at Yue Zhiheng.

But now that he was half-dead, indifferent even to the curses of common folk, she was merely wasting her breath.

Only when her hands were frozen stiff did she finally stand up.

She exhaled a warm breath into her palms, her face dark as she re-entered the ruined temple.

In her anger, she had considered coming clean and telling Yue Zhiheng who she really was—letting it all go up in flames. But when the moment came, she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Zhan Yunwei added more firewood, glanced at Yue Zhiheng, who lay with his eyes shut, and left without a word. She needed to gather essential supplies.

For now, there was nowhere else for them to go. They would have to stay in this ruined temple for quite some time.

The empire had just lost its most important prisoner; there would surely be an intense manhunt over the next few days.

Zhan Yunwei felt troubled.

They couldn't go into the mortal world. Yue Zhiheng was too much of a liability—not just because of his current physical condition, or the challenge of smuggling him far away, but because any cultivator who recognized him would want him dead.

In all her life, she had never met anyone as universally hated as Yue Zhiheng.

The imperial court wanted him dead. The immortal sects wanted him dead.

She had thought her own life had been difficult these past few years, but now she realized that, in the grand scheme of things, the one with no place left in this world… was Yue Zhiheng.

No wonder he no longer cared about anything.

Zhan Yunwei thought, if she were in his place—stripped of spiritual power, hunted by the entire world, with all loved ones dead—what kind of miracle would it take to give her the will to live?

She pressed her lips together, took one last look at the ruined temple, then turned and walked into the snow.

Inside, Yue Zhiheng lay still, listening to her footsteps fading away.

Ever since losing his sight, his senses of hearing and smell had become unnaturally sharp.

Even without his spiritual core, his other abilities remained. He had not lost his judgment.

The person who saved him was peculiar.

He had noticed it while they were fleeing. Though this "man" had an average height, his frame was far too slender—far weaker than even his own emaciated body.

After a single night, the oddities became even clearer.

For example, their footsteps were too light, like a woman's. Their voice was gruff and hoarse, yet their hair carried a faint fragrance.

And most suspicious of all—when they had tried to undo his belt earlier, they had fumbled for ages, as if it was their first time undressing a man. They didn't even seem to know they had to support him.

His darkened, sightless eyes lowered expressionlessly.

But it didn't matter.

Whoever this person was, whatever their intentions, his broken body was of no use to anyone. Even scavengers would think twice before feasting on him.

Moral codes, the divide between men and women, plots and schemes—

All these things Yue Zhiheng had once cared about, yet now they meant even less than a bowl of hot water in a snowstorm.

He felt no gratitude toward his so-called rescuer.

They had merely prolonged his suffering. But after all these years, he was too tired—too tired to speak, too tired to move.

It made no difference whether this person stayed or left.

If he died today, his heart would be at complete peace.

Yue Zhiheng thought of nothing at all.

The fate of the Spirit Emperor, the centuries it would take to recover, the suffering he had caused the world—none of it mattered. Even the hands that cleaned his wounds and led him outside to relieve himself were insignificant.

For the first time in his life, he did nothing. He cared about nothing.

He waited for the snow to return, to bury him in its endless silence.

But before the snow, something else arrived first—the sound of light, quick footsteps.

She had come back.

He heard her warming her hands, shaking the snow from her boots, then sticking her feet close to the fire. The flames had not gone out. She seemed to be in a better mood, not as foul as she had been that morning.

Yue Zhiheng could tell she did not like him.

The pastries she had bought were sweet; she ate her fill before pressing one against his lips.

He opened his mouth and ate.

He could not taste it.

He simply could not be bothered to refuse.

Next, she poured out some medicine and made him drink it.

Yue Zhiheng swallowed without hesitation.

Life or death—it made no difference.

Even if she fed him a handful of snow, he would have swallowed it just as indifferently.

She busied herself around the ruined temple, clearing cobwebs, patching up windows to block out the wind and snow, layering thick bedding over the floor, and helping him lie down.

Soon, the air grew clean and warm.

The days of torment, hunger, and thirst had all come to an end—through her unwilling, yet meticulous care.

Lying in the warmth, Yue Zhiheng thought coldly that at least one thing had surprised him.

He had imagined himself dying in the streets during a public execution, or perishing in a prison cart, or being slowly tortured to death.

But he had never expected the possibility of dying in a warm bed.

In the darkness where she could not see, a trace of sarcasm curled his lips.

Still, he did not bother to guess at her intentions.

Between the two of them, it was obvious that she was the one more restless.

As night fell, she finally revealed a hint of her purpose.

The ruined temple was warm, yet outside, the land remained steeped in evil. Travelers were rare this time of year.

Aside from the howling wind, the world was so silent that a falling needle would be heard.

The crackling fire filled the quiet. Yue Zhiheng heard her clear her throat.

Then she spoke.

"I didn't save you for nothing. You need to answer a few questions honestly."

Yue Zhiheng said nothing. His world was darkness, and he could not even be bothered to respond.

"Where did your Yue family hide all their artifacts?"

He still didn't react.

She seemed a little annoyed and gave him a push. "I know you're not deaf. Speak."

His voice was hoarse. "Speak about what?"

"The location of the artifacts. Otherwise, I'll kill you."

He found it utterly ridiculous, his gaze icy cold, and didn't utter a single word.

Seeing his indifferent attitude, she fumed silently for a while before abruptly changing the subject.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "I heard you used to have a Dao companion. Do you still remember her?"

The cold smile on his lips faded, replaced by silence.

The firelight flickered. If she hadn't brought it up, Yue Zhiheng wouldn't have thought about that person at a time like this.

That person… had nothing to do with him anymore—not for the past five years.

Just like the rumors said, there was no affection between him and his Dao companion. When he captured her, he showed no mercy. When he imprisoned her, he was utterly heartless. Even after she left, he continued living his life as usual.

Nothing had changed.

Over the years, he rarely thought about her. He had heard the rumors from the common folk—some said she had died in a secret realm, another beauty with a tragic fate. Others claimed she had married her sword immortal senior brother.

Last year, someone even swore they had seen her by Pei Yujing's side, cradling a baby in her arms.

The child had already passed the full-moon celebration.

Whether the rumors were true or false, he never sought to verify them. He wasn't interested. Their marriage had been nothing more than an absurd arrangement forced upon them—caring about it would be laughable.

But tonight, when this stranger suddenly mentioned her, his brows lowered, and he lost even the will to reply with a simple "speak about what."

She didn't notice his change in mood and continued, half-threatening, half-testing, "I heard there's bad blood between you two. If you don't tell me where the Yue family hid their treasures, I'll hand you over to her in exchange for spirit stones. Let her torment you. You wouldn't want to fall into her hands, would you?"

…Not a bad idea. Yue Zhiheng thought coldly.

But Zhan Yunwei… she wouldn't even spare a single coin for him, let alone waste a glance in his direction.

This person was both boring and foolish. Her plans were bound to fail.

He shut his eyes, treating her words as nothing but the ramblings of a lunatic. He tuned her out and listened instead to the howling wind outside.

Zhan Yunwei eventually grew tired of talking. Seeing that Yue Zhiheng was completely unresponsive, she had no other options. The person she had painstakingly rescued couldn't just be strangled to death, so she simply stuffed two more pastries into his mouth. Then, still scowling, she helped him relieve himself again.

Afterward, she collapsed onto the bedding, too exhausted to even curse at him.

A few days ago, she wouldn't have believed it herself—that she would be spending this winter together with Yue Zhiheng.

Yue Zhiheng had no defenses against her now. His indifference toward life and death affected her as well, and she found it hard to be too vigilant around someone who was half-dead.

Which led to something unfortunate.

That night, she had another dream.

Not one of those messy, chaotic dreams from the fate book—but a proper dream. One that made her angry.

Perhaps because she had encountered an old acquaintance again, Zhan Yunwei dreamed of events from seven years ago, back when she had been married to Yue Zhiheng for a year.

Back then, he had used her to lure immortal sect disciples into a trap, taking advantage of the Mirror of Worldly Reflection to deal the sects a devastating blow.

That time, even Senior Brother Pei had been gravely injured, while the imperial hounds laughed arrogantly.

Her dream was filled with Yue Zhiheng's cold and ruthless face. Zhan Yunwei thought of stabbing him in his sleep.

Sometimes, she wondered if he had some kind of problem—why did he insist on sharing the same bed with her when their relationship was so hostile?

Just as her hairpin was about to pierce him, the man opened his eyes, caught her hand, and sneered. "What, does Miss Zhan want to kill me? Didn't I warn you to behave and know your limits?"

—

Yue Zhiheng had slept too much during the day. At night, he had no drowsiness.

Old injuries always hurt more at night, but he didn't particularly mind.

He simply listened to the sound of the wind and snow, closed his eyes, and lay in the lonely world like a handful of snow waiting to dissolve.

The person beside him was already fast asleep.

She seemed restless in her dreams, tossing and turning multiple times, nearly hitting her head. Yue Zhiheng remained motionless.

Until she started talking in her sleep.

With the same voice that had kept him awake countless nights in the past.

The girl's tone was soft and sweet as she mumbled in her sleep.

"Yue Zhiheng… the immortal sects will never… be defeated by someone like you…"

Yue Zhiheng's eyes snapped open.

Even though he could see nothing now, he still turned precisely in her direction in the pitch-dark night.

His eyes, deep as an abyss, flickered with an unreadable darkness.

The fire crackled violently.

Zhan Yunwei woke with a start.

She sat up, her first reaction was to check for pursuers. Finding the world outside silent, disturbed only by the wind, she sighed in relief.

Her second reaction was to look at Yue Zhiheng.

His pitch-black eyes were fixed on her.

In the darkness, a chill ran down her spine.

She shuddered, unsure of what had happened.

Clearly, Yue Zhiheng's eyes had always been lifeless, shadowed by a bleak haze.

But at this moment, firelight reflected in them, stirring with emotions—anger, sorrow, a thousand emotions entwined—making her instinctively recoil.

She swallowed and, using her coarse male voice, asked, "What?"

A long silence followed.

The wind had quieted considerably by the time Yue Zhiheng closed his eyes again and replied, "Nothing."

He seemed normal again.

No longer staring at her in that eerie way.

Yet, somehow, that only made it feel more abnormal.

For the first time, Yue Zhiheng had willingly spoken to her.

Even if his tone was just as unpleasant.

But compared to the past two days, when he had seemed like a lifeless corpse, he now appeared more like a living person.

The next morning, Zhan Yunwei realized it wasn't just her imagination.

Every morning, she would wipe him down and change his bandages.

Usually, he remained as unresponsive as a dead man, calm and indifferent. But this time, he coldly refused her. "No need."

That was unexpected. She couldn't help but glance at him a few times.

Aside from that, however, Yue Zhiheng seemed normal. When she fed him, he remained silent for a moment, then lowered his eyes and ate—but he carefully avoided touching her hand.

He made sure his lips never brushed against her fingers, and once he was done eating, he turned his face away.

That might have been fine, but occasionally, when she wasn't paying attention, she kept getting the feeling of being watched.

When she looked up, she would meet his unfocused gaze, though she had no idea how long he had been silently "looking" at her.

What kind of illness is this?

When she got close, he acted like he despised her. But the moment she wasn't paying attention, he stared at her in a daze.

Even when it came to relieving himself, they ran into some trouble.

At first, it had been awkward, but after a few days, Zhan Yunwei had grown numb to it.

That thing… after seeing it a few times, it didn't seem so strange anymore.

But today, as she pulled down Yue Zhiheng's trousers, he looked odd and, after a long moment, still hadn't relieved himself.

Zhan Yunwei hadn't planned on looking, but the two of them were standing in the snow like a pair of wooden stakes, both cold and dumb.

She turned her head away from his exposed area and had no choice but to ask, "What's wrong?"

His expression was dark and cold. He pressed his lips together but said nothing.

What the hell?

Zhan Yunwei already disliked this task. Frustrated, she pulled his undergarments back up and muttered listlessly, "Tell me when you need to go next time."

His expression shifted several times before he finally forced out a cold, clipped response. "Mm."

Strictly speaking, Yue Zhiheng's change wasn't a bad thing. At least a living, breathing person was better than an emotionless corpse who cared about nothing.

He had suddenly developed some will to live. And with his Ninefold Spiritual Veins, even without a spiritual core, survival wouldn't be too difficult.

But it wasn't entirely a good thing either. The more he rejected her attempts to clean him, the more awkward the whole situation became—even for something as basic as relieving himself.

After several days of this, Zhan Yunwei couldn't hold back any longer.

She poked him. "What's your deal? Do you want to live or die? Give me a straight answer."

Yue Zhiheng turned his head away. Even though she knew he couldn't see, his eyes still felt cold and piercing.

Given his usual indifferent nature, Zhan Yunwei had assumed he wouldn't respond.

But after a brief silence, he spoke, his voice icy.

"What do you want? For me to live or to die?"

What kind of question was that?

As if her answer would change anything.

Since he didn't even know who she was, Zhan Yunwei answered simply, "I saved you, so obviously, I want you to live."

He went quiet for a moment before pressing his lips together slightly. "Mm."

Mm?

What was that supposed to mean?

Feeling even more confused, she shifted back to her original goal. "Have you thought it through over the past few days? Are you going to tell me where the Yue family's treasures are hidden?"

At her words, his expression grew noticeably colder.

"Which artifact do you want?"

Zhan Yunwei hesitated. It wasn't something she couldn't say. "Changming Lu."

Yue Zhiheng let out a cold laugh and turned his back to her.

"What's with that attitude?"

She had grown accustomed to his indifference over the past few days, so seeing him "lose his temper" was actually quite intriguing.

"If you want to live, fine. But you won't even beg me, and now you have the nerve to give me attitude?"

Lying on his side, Yue Zhiheng opened his eyes and replied icily, "Who do you want to save with Changming Lu?"

She fell silent. She couldn't answer that.

But even if she didn't say it, Yue Zhiheng already knew.

"Your Dao companion?"

She frowned.

"Forget it." Yue Zhiheng's voice was indifferent. "I never asked you to save me. You can kill me, or you can leave."

He shut his eyes, unwilling to admit the faint surge of suppressed anger and sorrow in his heart.

Her words from a few days ago still echoed in his mind—how she had said they were enemies, how she had claimed he would meet a terrible fate in her hands.

So what was she trying to do?

Was his death not enough? Was slow torture not enough?

Had she kept him alive just to come up with a new way to humiliate him?

Did she really hate him that much?