Ning Ning remained silent, listening quietly.

“But he wasn’t a good match for her. He only got close to her to steal the family’s cultivation techniques. When she violated the family’s rules and stole the techniques from their forbidden grounds—”

He paused slightly, the self-deprecation in his eyes deepening.

“The demons then attacked the city. In just one night, her family, her wealth, her cultivation—everything was gone. The only thing left was the unborn child in her womb.”

Unborn child.

Ning Ning’s heart trembled, and she slowly furrowed her brow.

These were things Pei Ji had never shared with anyone.

He was proud and stubborn, never willing to reveal his scars to others.

But in this moment, he broke that silence, wanting Ning Ning to know.

Pei Ji himself couldn’t quite understand his own thoughts.

His power was insignificant, and he was powerless against the world’s cruel ridicule.

He could only grit his teeth and endure it day after day.

Over time, he had grown accustomed to living under scorn and rejection.

Pain, punishment, life, and death—he endured it all alone, without needing anyone’s help.

Pei Ji should have been used to it by now.

But Ning Ning kept offering him little bits of sweetness, and after tasting it once, he craved more.

In the darkest corners of his heart, a voice screamed for more.

He felt despicable.

Unable to cross the gulf between them, he resorted to these lowly and pitiful means, hoping to make her notice him just a little more.

Even he found it laughable.

Pei Ji lowered his gaze, avoiding her eyes.

His voice was very soft.

“Those things have nothing to do with me. You don’t need to offer me pity.”

After a brief pause, his voice took on a strange rasp.

“…I’m not pitiful.”

Xie Yu’s entangled love and hatred with that woman had little to do with him, but Pei Ji revealed so many secrets, leaving only his own story hidden.

For instance, enduring his mother’s hatred for Xie Yu, suffering in a dark, airless cellar every day, covered in bruises and wounds;

Or wandering aimlessly after his mother died from illness, once getting his forehead broken by street thugs over a steamed bun;

Or being born with the demonic energy inherited from his father, marked as an untouchable monster, subjected to endless humiliation and rejection.

That woman had named him “Ji” (solitude).

What kind of mother would give her child such a name?

It was clearly a curse, one he could never escape from the moment he was born, burdened with infinite hatred.

Sometimes, Pei Ji wondered, What exactly was he?

Hated by his mother, abandoned by his father, with no place in the world to call home.

Except for his sword, nothing else in the world seemed to matter to him.

He cared nothing for others, and no one cared about him.

These were the things he didn’t want Ning Ning to know.

Like a fish pulled from water, about to drown, his entire life had been one of wretchedness.

And yet, even so, there was one last shred of dignity he wanted to hold onto.

Only for her.

Pei Ji didn’t want Ning Ning to look down on him.

The bamboo grove fell silent for a moment.

Fearing he might hear any tone of comfort or pity, he heard the soft sound of rustling.

Ning Ning, her head lowered, was lightly kicking the fallen bamboo leaves on the ground.

That faint sound struck Pei Ji’s heart directly.

She mumbled softly, “I wouldn’t pity you.”

Pei Ji tightened his grip on his sword, his heart inexplicably pounding.

“Because you’re amazing. Amazing people don’t need anyone’s pity.”

Ning Ning raised her head and met his gaze, her clear voice echoing in the misty moonlight, strangely carrying a kind of hypnotic power.

“Our Pei Ji is so wonderful. You can cook, fight demons, and make so many beautiful little toys. Who could possibly be better than you? I don’t even have time to admire you.”

…How could she say something like that so casually?

Pei Ji, who had always been solitary, had never heard such direct words.

Even though he knew she was comforting him, he still felt so flustered that his ears burned.

“And,” Ning Ning paused, her eyes lingering on his face for a long time before she smiled to herself, “Pei Ji is very handsome. Much more handsome than many, many others.”

Under the moonlight, every emotion was laid bare.

A leaf slowly drifted down, and Pei Ji’s pale face flushed a shade of peach blossom pink.

Suddenly, he wondered if that peach blossom cake was too sweet.

The moonlight scattered across the ground, intertwining with the endless night, spreading a cold, misty haze.

Pei Ji held his breath and turned his head, trying to avoid her gaze, but he didn’t realize that doing so was a futile attempt at hiding, unable to escape her eyes.

Ning Ning noticed his shyness, and for a moment, she found it quite amusing.

As if mischievously, she leaned in a little closer.

Her gaze slowly drifted over his face, like a small flame.

And then, with a carefree, teasing tone, she began speaking again, each word drawn out, her voice rising at the end, intentionally playful.

“Eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth—”

It was always the cold ones that were the most fun to tease when they got embarrassed.

Ning Ning had been laughing as she spoke, but suddenly, she found herself staring directly into a pair of dark eyes.

Pei Ji had turned back, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on her face.

His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, his eyes filled with moonlight, his long lashes quivering faintly.

His pupils were dark and tumultuous like a tide.

Ning Ning’s smile froze at the corners of her mouth.

She had been the one teasing him, yet now, under his gaze, her heart raced uncontrollably.

Ning Ning rubbed her nose, feeling a little embarrassed.

Her voice was much quieter than before. “…They’re all very good-looking.”