The attention of everyone in the inn converged on them.
Song Qingshi instinctively wanted to deny having a child, but the resemblance was uncanny—the skin tone, facial features, hair, and nose mirrored his own, while the eyes and mouth resembled Feng Jun's. From a genetic standpoint, no one would believe him if he claimed the child wasn't his.
Feng Jun sighed. He had declared war on the whole cultivation world with the Undying Summit as his base, purging corruption and venting his hatred through slaughter. He couldn't guarantee success, but the chances of Song Qingshi returning to this realm were high. Recognizing individuals through scent and soul, Haolong, the spirit snake, was raised into a formidable demon to serve as Song Qingshi's protective talisman.
Haolong was undyingly loyal and pure of thought toward Song Qingshi; there seemed to be no major issues initially...
Feng Jun had intended for this snake to stay peacefully at the Undying Summit, planning to gift it later to Song Qingshi as a demon pet. But the foolishly unpredictable creature, akin to Song Jincheng, often took unexpected courses of action.
The audacious snake even dared to call him "Mom"?
He was somewhat inclined to establish their Dao companionship officially, sealing it with a Dao companion mark and whisking his partner away.
Yet, how could he explain to Song Qingshi who bore their "son" after revealing his male identity in bed?
Feng Jun put on his thin veiled gloves, intending to have a heart-to-heart with the foolish snake.
Sensing danger, Haolong clung tightly to Song Qingshi's leg and wailed for his life. It was cursed, preventing it from uttering "Yue Wuhuan" and ignorant of this transformed being's name. It could only repeatedly cry out, "Daddy, save me!"
The onlookers began to gossip, condemning the irresponsibility of the parents.
Song Qingshi sank into deep thought...
Treading carefully, Song Jincheng asked, "Could it be that Feng Jun is the one you've been looking for? You even have a child together?"
Feng Jun paused and looked at Song Qingshi.
Song Qingshi composed himself and scrutinized Feng Jun's face and physique. He then reached out to gently touch his striking features, including the teardrop mole below his left eye. His reflection was mirrored in those dark-gold irises, tinged with indescribable complex emotions. He felt a headache coming on, as if something was obstructing his thoughts.
This selective amnesia was rather intriguing.
Wasn't the resistance of his memory an indication that such a thing once existed in his recollections?
Was this an attempt to cover up the truth?
After contemplating for a long while, Song Qingshi finally smiled. He picked up Haolong, played with him on his lap, and said, "I can't recall the past, but perhaps he truly is my son. If no one claims him, let's keep him. Maybe he can help me gradually recover my memory. What's your name, kid?"
Haolong successfully recognized his master and was so thrilled that he couldn't contain himself, chirping, "Xiaobai!"
Feng Jun was stunned.
Song Qingshi pressed on: "Is Feng Jun really your mom?"
Haolong declared emphatically: "Yes!"
The snake couldn't care less whether Yue Wuhuan's incarnation was male or female—all were "mom" to him! Besides, with "dad" around, even if he misbehaved, he was safe from fatal punishment.
Feng Jun glanced at Haolong, took a deep breath, and reined in his emotions. Over the years, he had tolerated this foolish snake primarily because it had a lovable face and a clean disposition that somewhat resembled a young Song Qingshi—offering him a modicum of comfort.
When Song Qingshi left without notice, Feng Jun had so little to hold onto. He had privately drawn countless portraits and created magical illusions that moved. Yet, these lifeless creations never felt right. He felt that they somehow defiled Song Qingshi's existence and eventually destroyed them, not wanting to rely on counterfeits for reminiscence.
He forced himself to preserve all the things Song Qingshi loved—the Medicinal King Valley, the peach grove, the lab, the library, and creatures like Qingluan, Minghong, and Haolong.
Eventually, all these things changed.
Buildings weathered and decayed with time; traces were erased through repeated restorations. The peach grove was burnt down during an attack on the Medicinal King Valley. The people he and Song Qingshi once knew passed away one by one. Only a few remained now that his cultivation had reached new heights.
Song Qingshi had once said that life itself is hope and implored him not to destroy the world.
He had complied with it all.
Yet, Song Qingshi had returned on a mission, bound to save others.
He had to force himself to accept it.
How detestable—detesting fate, detesting the system, detesting everything in this world.
He stared at Song Qingshi, his fingers bitten fiercely, suppressing all his desires—he wanted to lose control but couldn't.
Song Qingshi gently pulled his finger from his mouth: "Don't bite; you'll get hurt."
"I lost my composure," Feng Jun smiled and played with Haolong, "I may not remember, but this child is truly adorable."
He felt his overthinking had led him down a rabbit hole created by these fools. For now, he'd let them create chaos and see what Song Qingshi's true intentions were. If the desired answer was not reached, he would enact his final plan—obliterate this detestable world, exterminate all beings, eliminate all right and wrong answers, and lock Song Qingshi's soul in a realm untouchable by the system, leaving him with only one choice: Feng Jun.
So, he would not fail.
Amid his increasingly tender smile, Haolong sensed danger and stiffened.
Feng Jun leaned into its ear and whispered softly, "Do you want to eat a mouse or some rotten flesh?"
"A mouse," Haolong responded, only to realize something was amiss. Quickly, it corrected itself, "No, Xiaobai wants meat…"
Picking up some greens from the table, Feng Jun spoon-fed them into Haolong's mouth with an expression of utter tenderness but an uncompromising forcefulness. "Children should not be picky eaters."
Song Qingshi nodded in agreement, "True."
Haolong dared not resist, nearly choked with emotion as it swallowed.
...
Night was falling. Song Jincheng said he was worn out from being chased by the snake and retired early.
"Children always sleep with their 'mom'," Feng Jun stated, disregarding Haolong's protest as he dragged it back to his room. Haolong attempted to plead for help, but Song Qingshi, engrossed in a book, reassured it: "In this world, no father dares to disobey the mother. You'll be fine."
Two resounding thumps emanated from Feng Jun's room, then a soundproof barrier descended, and all fell quiet.
Song Qingshi reclined in a reclining chair, a booklet in hand, but his mind was pondering the content on its pages rather than turning them.
Feng Jun entered carrying a dish of ice cream, setting it on the low table. Seeing that Song Qingshi was engrossed in his book and oblivious to his surroundings, he took the opportunity to unabashedly study him. After all these years, his affection remained undiminished—loving his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his body, his skin, even his personality and each strand of his hair…
A mischievous smile crept onto his lips. Quietly he removed his wooden clogs, extending his bare feet from beneath his red gauze skirt. Stealthily, his toes ascended along Song Qingshi's leg, as light as a butterfly landing. Reaching the thigh and still undetected, he nipped slightly in annoyance, then withdrew, resuming a dignified posture.
The sudden pinch startled Song Qingshi back to reality. He noticed Feng Jun, who was now sitting opposite him, his freshly washed hair still damp and cascading over his shoulders, flowing nearly to his ankles. His frail physique was cloaked in an oversized red robe, its broad sleeves and ample material tied haphazardly with a sash, outlining long legs and a slender waist. Despite this, his expression remained dignified, his eyes imbued with an inviolable majesty—as if he had never misbehaved.
The air grew chilly, and it would be uncomfortable to be so scantily clad.
Decisively, Song Qingshi draped a white robe over him, tucking it tightly so as not to expose anything. Then he grabbed the ice cream, took a bite, and paused to marvel at the familiar taste before praising, "This is delicious."
Feng Jun, who hadn't expected Song Qingshi to catch his subtle cues, leaned on the table and inquired with a playful smile, "So, a father should listen to the mother? Will you listen to me?"
Waves of autumnal sentiment stirred their hearts.
Song Qingshi felt flustered under his gaze and found himself replying, "I will…"
Feng Jun drew closer, the robe that had just been tightly wrapped mysteriously falling open again. He whispered hotly into his ear, "How will you listen?"
Song Qingshi found his scent sweetly familiar, intoxicating him slightly, "How would you like me to listen?"
Before he could even finish, the tip of Feng Jun's tongue lightly brushed against his earlobe.
Song Qingshi couldn't help but let out a soft moan of pleasure. He was unaware of how sensitive his ears were, and the sensation seemed to trigger a strange response throughout his entire body.
He was somewhat fearful of this sensation and tried to pull back, but his hands were held fast.
Lord Feng, with his immense strength, drew him closer into his embrace, immobilizing him.
Immediately thereafter, his entire earlobe was enveloped by warm lips and playfully teased. The ticklish sensation was almost unbearable...
Song Qingshi was nearly reduced to tears by his touch. Tears swirled in his eyes, but he restrained himself from begging for mercy.
Finally, Lord Feng released his earlobe, took Song Qingshi's hand—the one he had used to grab the popsicle—and admired it for a moment. He sniffed the pleasant medicinal scent, then inspected each finger before softly asking, "Why didn't you use your mystic fire on me?"
Relieved, Song Qingshi exhaled, "It would have burned you, and I didn't want to hurt you."
Lord Feng smiled softly and whispered, "You have popsicle crumbs on your fingers; allow me to take care of that for you."
Song Qingshi assumed he would use a handkerchief to wipe them clean and obediently extended his hand. To his surprise, Lord Feng took his fingertips into his mouth, sweeping over each inch of skin with a moist breath, savoring the lingering sweetness. Yet, his phoenix eyes were filled with an indescribable desire, as if he was tasting something far more intriguing. It led to thoughts most provocative. Song Qingshi was stunned and tried to pull his hand away, but his modest Foundation Building level cultivation and lack of body refinement offered him no real resistance, especially when he was unwilling to unleash his internal twin fires. His feeble resistance only seemed to whet the appetite of a savage predator.
Their fingers interlocked, pressed against the back of the chair. There was no refusal.
Lord Feng leaned close to his face, his breath nearly touching his lips, mere inches away, and concluded, "You are quite delectable."
After a moment of thought, Song Qingshi asked, "Lord Feng, when is your birthday?"
Caught off guard, Lord Feng answered, puzzled, "February 14th."
A greedy kiss descended, forcefully prying open the space between his teeth, in search of more delectable tastes.
Song Qingshi ceased his struggle, endeavoring to endure all that was happening. As familiarity settled in, he gradually relaxed, becoming compliant and beginning to revel in the sweetness of the kiss.