Chapter 119: So Many Women!

Chapter 119: So Many Women! The rain had stopped by dawn, but Lin Fan was still standing there. Soaked, silent, unmoving — like a broken statue that no longer knew what purpose it had once served. Above him, the room where Hei Long and Lan Xueyi stood was dimly lit now, curtains drawn tight. No silhouettes passed by. No sounds escaped. Just stillness. And it drove him mad. He turned away. But the fire inside didn’t. Two Days Later – The Royal Inventor’s Conference An event known across the empire as a gathering of the brightest minds in cultivation theory, alchemy, and invention. Nobles, scholars, and sect elders filled the grand observatory hall, lit by enchanted sunlamps and lined with floating scrolls that chronicled each guest’s achievements. Lan Xueyi stood at the center — white robes trimmed in obsidian black, her long hair braided with silver thread, expression like a frozen mountain peak. Hei Long, dressed in the black and crimson uniform of the imperial guard, stood at her side. She presented a new invention: The Resonant Veil, a layered defense array capable of protecting entire cities while maintaining spiritual harmony with surrounding ley lines. The hall applauded. Sect masters murmured approval. The Grand Scholar himself beamed with rare pride. Hei Long said nothing. But she glanced at him when the cheering stopped — just briefly. And he nodded. She smiled. Only for a second. But Lin Fan saw it. From the back corner, standing beside an empty booth labeled "Spiritual Relay Tuning — Lin Fan," he saw it all. The eyes. The nod. The smile. That smile used to be his. The one he dreamed of. Imagined. Deserved. And yet... Now it was hers. Given to him. Again. Later That Night – The Palace Gardens Hei Long walked calmly through the moonlit garden paths, hands behind his back, cloak rustling against the grass. Lan Xueyi joined him in silence. She walked close now. Always close. "You could have presented your own project," she said after a time. "Why didn’t you?" "I’m not here to be admired," Hei Long replied. "Only to protect." "I think you like hiding," she said, side-eyeing him. "Maybe." "Good. I do too." Silence stretched between them. Then, as they passed a small bridge over a koi pond, she paused. "Do you ever get tired?" she asked suddenly. "Tired of what?" "Being the one they all want." He turned to her. "That’s not what I am." She studied him, gaze sharper than any scalpel. "Then what are you?" He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward. And kissed her. It wasn’t passionate — not fiery, not desperate. It was quiet. Calculated. Inevitable. She didn’t resist. Her hand came up to rest against his chest, and for once, she didn’t flinch when someone got that close. When the kiss broke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I should push you into the pond." "Why don’t you?" "Because it’s late. And you’re warm." Meanwhile – Lin Fan Back at his rented quarters, Lin Fan sat surrounded by broken talismans, ruined ink scrolls, and half-finished spirit tools. He hadn’t eaten in two days. His hair was unkempt. His eyes were sunken. The mirror in front of him held a version of himself he no longer recognized. "Lan Xueyi was different," he muttered. "She wasn’t like Lady Xuanyin. She was cold. She was... logical. She was supposed to see the effort. The gifts. The research." He slammed his fist against the table. "She was supposed to be the one who couldn’t be stolen." But she had been. By the same man. Again. Hei Long and Lan Xueyi – The Private Laboratory Days passed. Nights grew longer. Hei Long now worked beside Lan Xueyi, aiding her with her next project — something involving portable reality compression zones. The work was dense, dangerous, and theoretical. She opened up more with him. Her usual clipped tones softened. She let her hair down during long nights, sometimes resting her head briefly against his shoulder as they reviewed formulas. "Tell me something," she said one night, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. "Are you truly this composed all the time?" "Yes." "That’s infuriating." He smiled faintly. "Then I’m doing my job." She laughed. Truly laughed. And Lin Fan watched from the shadows. . . . . . One night, he followed Hei Long as he left the lab. He didn’t know what he intended to do. Confront him? Fight? Beg? But instead, he tripped over one of Lan Xueyi’s automated perimeter charms. A shrieking whistle pierced the air. Guards appeared instantly. Swords drawn. "State your name!" Lin Fan stood slowly, hands shaking. "I was just..." "Spying?" a cold voice interrupted. Lan Xueyi stood behind them now, arms folded, hair glowing faintly in the starlight. "I wasn’t—" "Enough." Her tone cut like a blade. She stepped forward, glaring at him. "You are done, Lin Fan. This was never about effort. You think affection is earned like sect merit points? That love is a reward for persistence?" He looked at her, heart crumbling. "I just... I wanted to be seen." "You were," she said. "And I didn’t like what I saw." She turned to the guards. "Escort him off imperial grounds. And mark his credentials. I won’t allow him near my laboratories again." Hei Long said nothing. But when Lin Fan looked at him — desperately, pleadingly — Hei Long’s eyes were unreadable. Empty. Final. Later As Lin Fan sat outside the city gates, muddy and alone, the words echoed again. "You were. And I didn’t like what I saw." He clenched his teeth. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. Hei Long had taken everything. He couldn’t take the next one. He wouldn’t. Somewhere in the distance, bells chimed — the sound of another mission being posted. Lin Fan stood. His shadow long beneath the moonlight. Another girl. Another chance. And this time... He wouldn’t lose. Or so he told himself. The frontier town of Qingshi was a dusty scar on the empire’s edge — a place where outcasts, mercenaries, and desperate cultivators clawed for purpose between monster raids and smuggling deals. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t civilized. But it had what Lin Fan needed: Distance. Anonymity. And a new target. Her name was Yue Qing’er. The Governor’s daughter. A mid-tier cultivator with a reputation for discipline, elegance, and healing arts. Widely admired. Rarely approached. Her cold politeness had driven off more than one arrogant young master — which, naturally, made her Lin Fan’s ideal rebound. He’d arrived under the guise of a freelance spirit tech consultant — fixed a few irrigation arrays, dropped some self-aggrandizing hints about his Imperial Conference ’invitation,’ and waited. It wasn’t long before she noticed him. Or rather, he made sure she couldn’t avoid him. Like showing up at her daily training grounds with "accidental" broken gear he claimed she could help him with. Like spilling tea on himself in front of her so she’d offer a napkin. Like complimenting her precise control of spiritual threads at least seventeen times during one lunch alone. And to his credit — she didn’t slap him. But she didn’t smile either. Yet. "Yue Qing’er," Lin Fan said one morning, intercepting her outside the barracks. "Would you—" "No," she replied without slowing. "Hey now, hear me out—" "No." He followed anyway. "I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. Just tea." She stopped walking. Her eyes — grey, sharp, and as warm as a winter lake — scanned him up and down. "You’re that former imperial inventor, aren’t you?" Lin Fan’s ego bloomed like a lotus. "Ah, so you have heard of—" "The one who tried to reverse-engineer spiritual resonance by carving talismans on fruit peels?" "...It was a controlled experiment. The peach absorbed over 20% of—" "You were caught spying on a Grand Scholar." Lin Fan winced. "Okay, that was a misunderstanding. And there were no charges filed. Technically." She turned again, walking away. "Good day, Lin Fan." He stood there, fists clenched. Hei Long wouldn’t have been dismissed like that. Hei Long would’ve breathed and the woman would’ve swooned. Lin Fan practically sang opera and all he got was a no. But... He wasn’t giving up. Because Lin Fan had something Hei Long didn’t. Desperation. And about three dozen prototype love charms he hadn’t technically tested. — Meanwhile — Hei Long Back in the capital, Hei Long read the mission report without expression. "Qingshi?" he said aloud. Lan Xueyi looked up from her schematics. "Mm?" "Lin Fan’s there." She raised an eyebrow. "Stalking another target?" "Possibly. The Governor’s daughter." Lan Xueyi’s lips twitched. "Poor girl." There was a beat of silence. Then Hei Long folded the report and tucked it into his cloak. "He’ll cause a diplomatic issue if he gets too deep. The girl’s under provincial protection." Lan Xueyi didn’t stop working. "You’re going after him?" "No. Just monitoring." "Mmhm." She paused, then asked, "Do you enjoy this?" He glanced at her. "This?" he asked. "Ruining him." Hei Long said nothing for a while. Then: "He ruins himself." — Back in Qingshi — Operation: Seduce Yue Qing’er Lin Fan had a plan. A multi-phase, pseudo-strategic, overengineered plan. Step 1: Display skill. He intercepted a wyvern raid with an unstable lightning trap of his own design. The town nearly exploded, yes, but the explosion was kind of beautiful. Yue Qing’er wasn’t impressed. Step 2: Fake vulnerability. He staged an emotional breakdown near the flower fields. Spoke to the moon. Shed a single tear. She walked past him without a word. A rabbit looked more concerned. Step 3: Bribery. He left lotus pastries and hand-inked scrolls by her courtyard. She returned the pastries. The scrolls were corrected and graded in red ink. "You confused yin polarity with yang sequence again. See me after you study," she wrote. Which—okay, sure—it wasn’t affection, but it was engagement. Progress. And Lin Fan thrived on scraps. Until... One Morning Lin Fan stood at the training field, shirt half-unbuttoned, arms glistening with effort (and strategically applied dew), waiting for her. She approached. Glanced once. Sighed. "You’re sweating from walking, not training." Lin Fan beamed. "Sharp as ever." "Why are you doing this?" He blinked. "Doing what?" "This performative nonsense. You think I haven’t seen your type before? You mistake effort for worth. Compliments for character. You’re not in love. You’re obsessed with being seen." His mouth opened. Closed. Then, like a child blaming the broken vase on the cat: "Hei Long doesn’t even try and everyone likes him." "Because he doesn’t make them uncomfortable," she said flatly. Lin Fan staggered. That hit harder than a Spirit Ram punch to the solar plexus. She walked past him. "Try learning the basics before your next invention explodes." — Later That Night — Hei Long’s Arrival The carriage rolled through Qingshi with no fanfare. Hei Long stepped down, adjusting his collar, eyes flicking across the sleepy streets. He wasn’t here for Lin Fan. He told himself that twice. But when he saw the charred crater from Lin Fan’s lightning trap? He sighed. Hard. — The Next Day — Yue Qing’er’s Clinic Lin Fan barged in, smoke still clinging to his sleeves, a newly charred eyebrow twitching. "Qing’er! You need to see this—it’s my latest design! A healing array built directly into armor plates!" "Is it on fire again?" "No! It’s—okay yes but just a little—" "Lin Fan," she said, exhausted. "Leave." "But—" Then Hei Long stepped through the doorway. Quiet. Composed. Radiating that unbearable sense of capable menace. Qing’er blinked in surprise. "Hei Long?" Lin Fan turned slowly. His whole spine stiffened like a blade. "You?" he hissed. Hei Long’s gaze flicked to him like one might glance at a stray dog. "Still alive," he said neutrally. "I knew you’d come here! You’re trying to take her too!" Hei Long raised a brow. "Take? Lin Fan, this isn’t a tournament prize." Lin Fan turned to Yue Qing’er, wild-eyed. "Don’t trust him! He’s—he’s a manipulator! A seducer! A villain in a hero’s coat!" Yue Qing’er folded her arms. "And you’re a boy who doesn’t understand the word no." Lin Fan deflated. Silence fell. Hei Long gave a small, pitying nod. "You could’ve done something great." "I was going to!" "No," Hei Long said quietly. "You were going to win. And you thought that meant something." — That Night — Outside the City Walls Lin Fan stood alone again. Mud on his boots. Blood on his lip. Pride in shards. He looked up at the moon. "Fine," he muttered. "You want me to grow?" His fists clenched. "Then I’ll grow. I’ll evolve. I’ll transcend." His reflection in the puddle looked like a wet noodle. "I’ll be the kind of man women can’t ignore!" A pause. "...After I find a bathhouse." And then? The sound of mission bells rang again. Another post. Another city. Another chance. And so, our idiot phoenix rose once more... ...into the flames.