Silence had always been his home.
Before reincarnation. Before cultivation. Even in his other life, silence had been his only loyal companion.
But when she disappeared… the silence became unbearable.
Zhu Xian searched the rift for hours.
He didn’t call her name.
Not because he didn’t want to… but because he knew that in the Gate, sound was an invitation to death.
Yet his steps were urgent, his breathing unsteady. His body —so rarely shaken— trembled.
Not from exhaustion. But from a sensation he hadn’t felt since his previous life:
emptiness.
The place where she had been dragged wasn’t an ordinary tunnel. He knew it the moment he touched the ground. It was colder. Older. The soul energy that lingered in the air was fragmented, as though torn apart by a force that didn’t belong to this plane.
Zhu Xian closed his eyes and sat on the rocks.
Not to rest, but to feel.
He extended his soul’s consciousness through the folds of the surroundings. He wasn’t searching with his mind. He was searching with memory.
Yun Yun… wasn’t just a name. She was a frequency. A precise vibration. Her presence was like jade submerged in water: calm, elegant, silent… but with a subtle pulse.
He knew it.
And yet, he couldn’t find it.
For five days, he didn’t sleep. He only hunted enough to survive. Kept the fire burning —out of habit, and out of hope.
Each night, before closing his eyes, he spoke quietly:
—If you’re alive… listen. This stone stays lit. This fire is your refuge. This name… is your way back.
And he would trace on the stone: 云韵 (Yun Yun), carefully.
It was the only thing he had written since entering this hell.
On the fifth night, he felt his soul falter.
Not from despair. But from acceptance.
Maybe she wouldn’t return. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe the gods were testing him. Maybe he should let go before clinging to something that wasn’t his to keep.
But just as his thoughts began to crumble… a shadow appeared in the mist.
A torn robe. An unsteady step. A sword in her arm.
Her.
He didn’t run to her.
He didn’t shout.
He just waited.
Because he knew that if her soul was wounded, forcing the reunion would only break her further.
And then she walked closer. Step by step. Like a flower refusing to wither. And she placed the sword between them.
—I brought it back, —she said.
He looked at her.
—It was never a loan.
She smiled. But it was a damp smile. Heavy. Painful.
And when she sat beside him, her shoulder trembling from within…
Zhu Xian said nothing more.
He simply lifted his hand and placed it, very slowly, on the ground between them.
He didn’t touch her. Didn’t demand. Didn’t ask.
But his soul said what no god could deny:
Wherever you go… I will follow. Even if you don’t call me. Even if you don’t look at me. Even if you never say my name again.
And in that moment, Zhu Xian knew one thing with absolute certainty:
He was no longer in the Gate of Life and Death.
He was in the place where his soul had begun to love.
And that… was more dangerous than any beast.