The days that followed became—at least for Wei Qing and Baiheng—an oddly grueling trial.
Jingliu was like a different person. The cold, solitary swordmaster who kept the world at arm's length had vanished, replaced by an almost obsessive dependence.
She stayed at Wei Qing's side nearly every moment.
And yes.
Every moment.
Baiheng had it easier. Jingliu's reliance on her was mostly physical—looping an arm through hers, resting against her when she dozed, small touches that felt like seeking reassurance.
But with Wei Qing, Jingliu treated him like a living incense burner. As long as he remained within reach—within the radius of her senses—she could maintain that strange, fragile calm.
Once, Wei Qing had only stepped out for a short while. When he returned, Jingliu appeared behind him without a sound, wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressed her face into his back, and said in a muffled voice:
"Don't move. Like this."
Wei Qing went rigid. He felt the faint tremor in her body.
In the end, he didn't push her away.
Treatment continued, slow and delicate.
Every day, Wei Qing used the power of Harmony to comb through Jingliu's soul, carefully untangling the parts stained by Nihility. The process was painstaking—too fine for distraction, too precise for error.
Jingliu cooperated perfectly. She was, if anything, unusually compliant.
But after each session, she grew exhausted—and her dependence on Wei Qing surged to a peak.
That was how things held together.
Until today.
Morning came with a knock at the courtyard gate.
Jingliu, who was currently treating Wei Qing like a human cushion, paused. A flicker of irritation crossed her eyes at the interruption.
Baiheng stepped out from the house carrying a plate of washed fruit, glanced at Wei Qing, and silently asked: Did you invite someone?
Wei Qing gave a subtle shake of his head and motioned for her to answer.
Baiheng set the fruit down and opened the gate a crack.
Two kids stood outside—teenagers at most.
Yunli. Yanqing.
Baiheng, who still paid attention to the Luofu even after centuries away, recognized them immediately.
"Oh my," she said brightly, forcing a smile. "Who are you two looking for?"
Yunli cupped her hands in greeting. "My name is Yunli. This is Yanqing."
"We heard that the one who saved Fanghu—Senior Yi Qing—and Swordmaster Jingliu are staying here," Yunli continued. "We came to pay our respects."
Yanqing hurriedly followed with a formal salute. "Junior Yanqing. I've come to greet Senior Yi Qing… and Grandmaster Jingliu!"
Baiheng's heart sank. She reflexively wanted to shut the gate—
Too late.
Jingliu's cool voice drifted from inside the courtyard.
"Who is it?"
As she spoke, she tightened her hold on Wei Qing's arm, as if staking a claim.
Baiheng could only force the gate open fully. "Two kids. They said they're here to visit."
Yunli and Yanqing stepped into the yard—and froze at what they saw.
The legendary Jingliu was pressed close to Senior Yi Qing, her posture intimate in a way that felt… unreal.
Meanwhile, Senior Yi Qing looked calm, like this was perfectly normal.
They were too young to hide their shock. It showed plainly on their faces.
"Junior Yunli (Yanqing), greetings, Senior Yi Qing, Senior Jingliu!"
Jingliu only gave a flat "Mm," her gaze still fixed on Wei Qing, clearly uninterested in the sudden visitors.
Wei Qing was at least polite. He dipped his chin. "No need for formalities. Why are you here?"
Yanqing recovered first. Like most young swordsmen, he practically radiated reverence for the strong. He stepped forward eagerly.
"Senior Yi Qing—your deeds at Fanghu have already spread across the Alliance. Two strikes, the tide turned… it was incredible. Junior—junior wishes to learn swordsmanship from you!"
He stole a nervous glance at Jingliu clinging to Wei Qing and added, much quieter, "A-and also from Grandmaster…"
Yunli immediately blurted, "Me too! Me too!"
Wei Qing hadn't answered yet when Jingliu spoke first.
"He has no time today."
Baiheng rushed in to smooth things over. "Jingliu, they came all this way. They're sincere—don't be so cold."
She grabbed Yunli and Yanqing by the shoulders and tried to steer them away from the tension.
"Come, come—let's go inside. I'll get you something tasty."
She meant to remove the kids from the battlefield and give Wei Qing room to breathe.
But Jingliu released Wei Qing's arm and stood.
Her eyes swept over Yunli and Yanqing, then settled on Yanqing.
"You're Jing Yuan's disciple?"
Yanqing straightened instantly. "Yes, Grandmaster!"
It was his first time meeting this legendary "grandmaster" of his master.
And she… did not match what he'd imagined.
"Good."
Frost gathered in Jingliu's hand. In an instant, an ice-crystal sword formed.
"Show me what Jing Yuan taught you."
The words hadn't even finished leaving her mouth before her sword intent filled the courtyard like biting winter wind.
Yanqing's face changed. The pressure stole his breath.
He didn't dare hesitate. The sword case at his back hummed, and several flying swords shot out, orbiting him in a tight formation.
"Then…"
"Grandmaster—please forgive the offense!"
With a shout, Yanqing's swords surged forward like falling stars.
Yunli and Baiheng both stepped back to make space.
Wei Qing stayed seated, watching with clear interest.
Against Yanqing's fierce opening, Jingliu only turned her wrist.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The flying swords were batted away as if they were toys.
Yanqing's eyes widened. He tried to pull them back and reset—
Jingliu blurred.
She appeared in front of him like a ghost, and the tip of her ice sword rested at his brow.
A needle of cold pierced his skin. Yanqing froze, sweat beading at his temple.
"…I lost," he said, lips pressed tight—resentful, but more stunned than anything.
He knew she was strong.
He hadn't understood the gap.
Jingliu withdrew her sword. It dissolved into frost and vanished.
She offered no critique, no instruction.
Yanqing wanted to ask—wanted to push for even a single sentence of guidance—
But her aura shut him down.
Jingliu turned and returned to Wei Qing's side, sitting down as naturally as if her brief display had been nothing at all.
Clearly, she hadn't drawn her blade out of any desire to teach.
If this had been before Wei Qing and Baiheng returned, she might have shown interest in the boy.
But now—
She had no spare attention.
The courtyard fell awkwardly silent.
Yunli stared at Yanqing's instant defeat, equal parts thrilled and shaken.
She wasn't as singularly devoted to swordsmanship as Yanqing, but she was still a prodigy of the younger generation. She understood what she'd just witnessed.
If Jingliu was this strong, then the man who ended Fanghu in two strikes had to be beyond terrifying.
She took a breath, gathered her courage, and stepped forward.
"Senior Yi Qing! Junior Yunli, bold as it may be, asks for your guidance!"
Wei Qing looked at her.
Her eyes were clear. Her spine was stubborn. There was something in her that reminded him faintly of Yingxing in the old days.
He didn't answer immediately—because he felt his arm tighten.
Jingliu, almost instinctively, clutched him again and looked at Yunli with faint irritation, as if a child had come to steal what was hers.
Baiheng nearly choked.
She's jealous of a kid now?
Baiheng hurried to defuse the situation. "Ah—Yunli, he's been… busy lately. Maybe next time?"
"No problem."
Wei Qing cut Baiheng off calmly.
He patted the back of Jingliu's hand, sending a thread of Harmony into her—gentle, soothing.
Jingliu's tension eased slightly. She stayed close, but the sharpness aimed at Yunli dulled.
Wei Qing turned to Yunli. "What do you want me to teach you?"
Yunli hadn't expected him to agree so easily. She blinked, then answered quickly:
"Senior! I want to know how to become like you—how to gain the power that can cut through anything!"
She remembered the battlefield reports—the thin red line that split the sky—and her eyes shone with longing.
Wei Qing raised an eyebrow.
Before he could speak, Baiheng burst into laughter.
"Cut through anything? Yunli, that's… refreshingly straightforward."
Yunli's cheeks flushed, but her gaze stayed fierce. "I'm serious! In front of absolute power, techniques and formations feel… fake. I want that!"
Wei Qing fell silent.
For a moment, he honestly didn't know what to say.
He'd met countless seekers on the road. People chasing swordsmanship, doctrine, destiny, enlightenment—
But someone whose dream was so bluntly numbers-first?
Someone who looked him in the eye and said, I want the power to smash everything?
This was new.
Even Jingliu, oddly enough, seemed drawn by the sheer honesty of it. Her cold eyes lingered on Yunli.
Baiheng was still snickering. "The kid's got style. Direct. I like it."
She tilted her head at Wei Qing, grinning.
"Well? You heard her. The girl wants your 'cut anything' technique. As her senior, aren't you going to say something?"
Wei Qing's gaze slid from Yunli to Yanqing, who was still staring—wounded pride, but burning curiosity.
Wei Qing's expression turned flat.
"Looks like I need to correct you two properly," he said.
In the next instant, he stepped forward, grabbed both kids by the back of their collars like two kittens—
And vanished.
The power of Trailblaze carried them away in a blink.
Baiheng stared, brain empty.
Now? You leave NOW? What about Jingliu?!
She whipped her head around.
As expected—
Jingliu's face had gone cold.
Not merely cool.
Icy.
Her gaze locked on the space where Wei Qing and the two kids had disappeared. Her arms were still held in the shape of an embrace, as if she'd been clutching something that suddenly stopped existing.
Baiheng's heart dropped.
This was bad.
She eased closer, forcing her voice light.
"He just went to give them a quick lesson. He'll be back soon… Jingliu? Jingliu, are you okay?"
Jingliu didn't answer.
Slowly, she lowered her empty arms.
Her eyes—once beginning to regain color—looked dulled, as if a thin gray film had settled over them.
"He left again," she said softly.
"And he didn't even say goodbye."
"It's just temporary," Baiheng insisted, smiling too hard. "I'm still here! I'll stay with you. We'll go inside, I'll make tea—"
"He promised he'd be back quickly," Jingliu interrupted, voice quiet and steady.
"But he didn't say what 'quickly' means."
Baiheng had no rebuttal.
She could only stare at Jingliu's posture and feel alarm bells shrieking.
Wei Qing, you idiot—get back here. Now.
Night deepened.
When Wei Qing finally returned to the courtyard, it was well past midnight.
He pushed open the door. The living room was silent; only insects chirped faintly outside.
He scanned for Baiheng—and didn't sense her anywhere.
She had probably wandered off again.
That didn't matter.
What mattered was Jingliu.
Wei Qing could feel her presence in his room.
He exhaled.
A headache formed behind his eyes.
During the day, those two kids had lit something stubborn in him—so he'd taken them to train.
He hadn't thought about the time.
Now it was clear Jingliu had opinions.
And those opinions were dangerous.
Something about her reaction didn't match Wei Qing's expectations.
He was certain the Nihility within Jingliu had been softened—if not fully cleansed, then at least largely defanged.
So why was she still like this?
Why was her dependence escalating instead of fading?
Wei Qing didn't allow himself to finish that line of thought.
He stood outside the door for a moment, then pushed it open.
The room was dark. Moonlight spilled in through the window, tracing the outline of a solitary figure by the bed.
Jingliu sat at the edge, knees drawn up, her face buried in her arms.
She didn't look up when the door opened.
Wei Qing sighed, moved closer, and sat beside her.
"I'm back."
No response.
Wei Qing crouched in front of her, trying to meet her eyes, but all he could see were tense shoulders and hidden features.
He lifted his hand, intending to use Harmony like always—to soothe, to settle—
But just as his fingers neared her hair, Jingliu snapped her head up.
Her eyes were calm.
Too calm.
"You said 'quickly.'"
"This is your 'quickly'?"
Wei Qing's hand froze midair.
He could feel it—under that surface calm, something was raging.
Not the hollow emptiness of Nihility.
Something hotter.
"I ran into complications," he said quietly.
"Yunli… her mindset is unusual. Teaching her took longer than I expected."
"So." Jingliu's mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile. "A random junior matters more than I do."
The jealousy and possessiveness weren't even disguised.
"Jingliu. You know that isn't what I meant."
"I don't know," she cut in.
She stood, looking down at him as he still crouched.
Her voice stayed level, but the air around her began to turn sharp and cold.
Wei Qing didn't stand. He looked up at her.
"This time I didn't leave without a word," he said. "And I came back."
Jingliu stared at him.
Wei Qing didn't keep explaining. He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her down to sit beside him on the bed.
Time seemed to stall.
Only the silence between them remained—heavy, waiting, unresolved.
At last, Jingliu's gaze slid from his face to his open palm.
"Do you like children?" she asked suddenly.
The question had nothing to do with her accusations.
It was so abrupt it almost felt like a trap.
Wei Qing blinked, surprised—then answered honestly.
"I do."
Not as a performance.
Whether in the Luofu long ago or out among the stars, he'd always been instinctively gentler with young lives full of possibility.
Jingliu looked down at her hands, fingers curling slightly.
"…Is that so."
Wei Qing watched her. "Why are you asking?"
She didn't answer immediately.
After a long pause, she lifted her eyes again.
"If…" she began, voice barely audible.
"If we had a child… would you stop leaving so easily?"
Wei Qing froze.
He wasn't young enough to misunderstand what she meant.
Under the moonlight, her face was close—sharp lines softened by silver, her eyes burning with something he'd never once seen in her.
It wasn't a question.
It was a desperate, final stake driven into the ground.
Wei Qing wanted to answer.
But Jingliu didn't give him time to assemble words.
She leaned in and kissed him—clumsy, raw, as if she'd decided that speech was unreliable and only action could hold him in place.
Wei Qing felt it—the eight hundred years of searching, the obsession, the fear of losing him again.
The whole weight of her life, pressed into that single act.
He lifted his hand and wrapped it around her waist, easing her back onto the bed.
Jingliu stiffened for a heartbeat—
Then clung to him tighter, as if letting go would mean falling into the void.
Moonlight slid across the room. Their shadows blurred together on the wall.
Everything unspoken dissolved into the dark.
Join here to read ahead.
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Uma Musume: From Beginner 145
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Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 100
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 60
The Uma Musume Who Became 60
I'm Definitely Not the King of 80
After Maxing Out Every Class 80
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I, the Elden Sword Saint 50
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DanMachi: My Party Members Are 60
An Anime Heroine Darkened 55
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