Chapter 76: The Weight of Truth

 

"Alright, I must tell you, this child isn't born from me." Liao Tingyan's voice carried forced calm as she attempted to reason with the sixteen-year-old Emperor seated across from her.

His Majesty regarded her with icy amusement, a cold smirk playing at his lips. "Stop lying. This child's face resembles mine, but his eyes look exactly like yours. What's the point of denying it? Will your denial make this not exist?"

Even if I don't deny it, it still doesn't exist! Liao Tingyan thought desperately.

The black snake Sisi perched between them on the table, swinging his legs with the innocent confusion of a child caught between quarreling parents, uncertain of his fate.

Liao Tingyan found herself studying the serpent's features with growing doubt. Do those eyes truly resemble mine? She had never seen it—much like during family gatherings when relatives would insist some cousin shared her features, leaving her perpetually bewildered. Now she wondered if her perception was simply flawed, if everyone else possessed clarity she lacked. Over the years, not a single soul in the Demon Realm had questioned her supposed maternal bond with the black snake.

"He was created by you alone," she insisted. Fed had consumed too much blood, mutating into this serpent form, then somehow gained the ability to transform into human shape through methods unknown.

Sima Jiao's expression radiated absolute certainty. "Now you're talking even more nonsense." He faced her with the smugness of one who believed himself the sole possessor of truth, utterly dismissive of her honesty.

Indeed, she reflected bitterly, truth often proves harder to swallow than fiction.

Whether at sixteen or centuries old, Sima Jiao remained unchanged—obstinate and self-centered, convinced of his own infallibility while viewing others as fools. He believed only what aligned with his predetermined conclusions. When he had decided he loved her, he gave everything; now that he had decided she was a demon, no explanation would penetrate his certainty.

The situation was maddening.

What choice did she have but to endure?

"Fine, I gave birth to him. He's your child. Happy now?" The words tasted like ash, but Liao Tingyan couldn't bear to continue the futile argument.

Sima Jiao's satisfaction was palpable. "I told you you couldn't fool me." The young man practically glowed with self-congratulation.

How can someone be so insufferable? Yet as she gazed upon her dao partner's naive, overconfident face, cold laughter bubbled in her chest. Very well, ancestor. Maintain that belief. Wait until your memories return and witness your reaction to this episode. Can you hear the sound of your own face being slapped? Can you hear your distant admission of "it smells so good after all"?

I'll be waiting.

Sima Jiao embraced both his suddenly-acquired son and Liao Tingyan's fox companion—now plump as a pig from overfeeding. During their intimate moments, he would absent-mindedly stroke the creature's fur, though his true obsession remained caressing Liao Tingyan's waist with reverent devotion.

A month passed unnoticed until Liao Tingyan's monthly spiritual flame irritability descended like clockwork, leaving her ashen and motionless upon the bed, consumed by agony.

Discovering her condition, Sima Jiao summoned healers, but her weak grip on his hand stopped him. "It's useless. They won't be able to diagnose the cause, nor can they provide relief," she whispered, eyes barely open.

Her suffering ignited his fury. "What exactly is going on? What's causing you to be like this?"

Finally, she met his gaze. "…I was injured before."

Thunder gathered in Sima Jiao's expression, his voice carrying the promise of storms. "Who? Who hurt you?!"

Liao Tingyan's grip tightened suddenly. "It was you."

"Impossible." The denial came without hesitation, born from blind confidence that no force in existence would protect this woman more fiercely than he would.

Through her pain, Liao Tingyan recalled years of monthly torment and the moment she had extracted Sima Jiao's divine soul. Shock and anger swelled within her as she drew breath. "You used to be extremely powerful. With your protection, no one could harm me, so the only one who could hurt me was you."

Her voice took on an otherworldly quality, stripped of its usual casualness. "You killed me once."

"Impossible," he repeated, though with less conviction.

"You were dying then, and you wanted me to die with you."

Silence stretched between them as Sima Jiao studied her pallid features. His hesitation spoke volumes—when he considered such a scenario, he couldn't definitively claim he wouldn't commit such an act. In his current state, more transparent than his former self, this uncertainty suggested he might indeed have entertained such thoughts.

The realization left Liao Tingyan surprisingly unafraid. This is truly Sima Jiao. But why had he chosen sacrifice instead, leaving everything to her?

Leaning forward, he cradled her face with unexpected gentleness. "You're not lying to me?"

"Seventeen years ago, you did indeed kill me once."

How strange that this man would reject truth yet embrace the lies she now wove. Frowning, he gathered her close, stroking her hair in wordless comfort.

As he gazed upon her current face, a fragment of memory flickered—himself holding her in a jade-colored pool, his body consumed by fire while she looked upon him with tear-filled eyes, shaking her head and crying out something desperate, appearing on the verge of collapse. Compared to her usual easy manner, something fundamental had shattered in her gaze.

The vision startled him, and he pressed his chest where it felt tight.

What was that? A memory from before?

"Does it hurt?" When Liao Tingyan grasped his hand, he returned to the present, his tone gentler than perhaps any in his lifetime.

She drew a shuddering breath. "It hurts."

"I'm in so much pain, Sima Jiao. It hurts so badly."

The agony felt more acute than usual. During the previous seventeen years of his absence, she would seek relief in pools, cursing his name when the pain peaked—somehow making it bearable. But now, with the architect of her suffering beside her, the pain seemed magnified, making her desperately want him to share in it.

She succeeded. Her weak confession of pain transformed his expression, and for a moment he appeared to suffer alongside her, lips pressed tight with barely contained anguish.

Her heart softened despite everything.

Why deliberately torment him? Sima Jiao was simply himself, and perhaps during his centuries of existence, he had endured such pain day and night. Unlike her fear of suffering, hadn't he already grown accustomed to it?

She fell silent.

Yet Sima Jiao seemed even less able to bear witness to her pain. "What would help ease your suffering?"

"…Soaking in water would help a bit."

It wouldn't—not really. She needed the bone-deep chill of a spiritual pool, but such places didn't exist here. Moreover, ordinary bodies couldn't withstand the invasive cold surrounding such pools. The current Sima Jiao lacked that resilience.

Without hesitation, he carried her to the spring pool behind Zi Quan Palace, entering the water fully clothed with her cradled against him. His lips brushed her forehead. "Do you feel any better?"

Leaning into his youthful embrace, she sniffled and continued the deception. "A little better."

Clear spring water enveloped them, their robes intertwining beneath the surface. Through the persistent ache, memories surfaced with painful clarity—it seemed only suffering could help her recover what had been lost.

She remembered Gengchen Immortal Mansion, how Sima Jiao had loved soaking in water then too. Initially, he had chosen pools so frigid even she couldn't endure them. But gradually, almost imperceptibly, he had begun seeking any available pool instead.

Why? Understanding dawned with startling clarity. No matter where Sima Jiao soaked, he had wanted her beside him. Had he abandoned those brutally cold pools simply because she couldn't bear them?

After all these years, Liao Tingyan finally comprehended the Sima Jiao who had gazed at her by that summer mountain stream. Had his feelings then matched her current ones?

Perhaps at that time, he too had been enduring pain a hundredfold worse than her present suffering, yet he could recline there without the slightest indication of distress, smiling as he reached toward her saying, "Come here." So composed that she had perceived only pleasant, lazy afternoon respite—ordinary, comfortable moments.

Back then, we couldn't understand each other's pain.

The Sima Jiao of memory dissolved. The present young man, remembering nothing, silently wiped tears from her cheeks—tears she hadn't realized were falling.

"Does it hurt that much?"

His brow remained furrowed as he carefully dried her tears, then kissed her closed eyelids with infinite tenderness. He was merely a youth, supposedly a tyrant who knew nothing of compassion.

Gasping, Liao Tingyan tilted her head to find his lips.

Sima Jiao brushed away the wet strands clinging to her cheeks, cradling her head as their mouths met. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hands pressed against his back. He held her against the pool wall, their hair floating like dark silk in the water, his hands tracing slow, reverent paths along her spine.

Miraculously, the stinging pain from her spiritual flame began to recede. Breaking from his lips, she rested her head on his shoulder to catch her breath. "I feel better now."

"Mm." He turned to kiss her neck, nuzzling her earlobe with gentle persistence.

"It seems like after kissing, it doesn't hurt as much as before."

Sima Jiao considered this for a moment, then began unfastening her garments.

"Wait."

"I'm still in pain, let go."

"Let me try. Be good, don't make a fuss."

"I won't try! Even if I, Liao Tingyan, die of pain, die right here, I won't do this!"

…

"Are you in pain too?"

Sima Jiao remained silent.

"Then let's forget it? We used to… you didn't seem to be in pain back then. Or is it because you're too young now…"

His fingers found the back of her neck in gentle reproof. "Shut up."

"Puhahahahaha~"

Rather than anger or embarrassment, her laughter seemed to ease something in him. He watched her with relaxing features, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. Shifting their positions while holding her securely, his thumb traced her eyes. "Is it less painful than before?"

The method proved genuinely effective—the spiritual flame had indeed been soothed by his presence.

Realizing she had been utterly seduced by his beauty and lost all self-control, shame flooded through her. She covered her face, then pressed her forehead against his shoulder. His soft laughter in her ear carried gentle, soothing warmth.

They drifted together like aquatic plants in the current, silent and tenderly entwined.

"You love me deeply." Through her haze, she heard him speak as he pressed her head firmly against his chest.

Eyes closed, she held him equally tight, humming soft agreement.

If I didn't love you, I would be happy anywhere.

But if I didn't love you, I wouldn't be this happy anywhere.

…

The ministers had spent half the day in heated debate without receiving a single word from His Majesty at the head seat. Simultaneously, they ceased their arguments and looked up to discover he hadn't been listening at all. While His Majesty typically paid little attention to their discussions, maintaining casual indifference, today found him completely lost in reverie. One hand rested near his nose, fingers lightly pinched in thought, his face bearing a rare, genuine smile.

He appeared nothing like the Emperor who executed people during foul moods, but rather like a youth contemplating his beloved.

Shock!!! rippled through the assembly.

Noticing their ghostly expressions, Sima Jiao simply rose from his throne. "Handle it yourselves. I'm going to the Summer Palace to escape the heat."

He departed with his heat-averse, water-loving Noble Consort, leaving behind ministers who had long praised his virtues now wringing their hands in renewed despair: His Majesty has been bewitched by beauty! There's no hope! The country will surely perish!

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