One Night of Cold Rain Buries the Famous Flower, Part 1

“Is that you, Mu Hanyuan?”

Yun Yao could scarcely believe it, tentatively calling out his name.

The young demon clansman, holding her wrist and kneeling on one knee, let out a soft chuckle.
“If not me, who else would call you Master?”

“Well, that may be true… but your current appearance…”
Yun Yao hesitated, lightly turning her wrist in his grasp.
She gripped his hand in return, pulling him up from the ground.

She didn’t notice how, when her fingertips brushed against his pulse, he trembled slightly, instinctively.

As if suppressing overwhelming excitement, the young demon clansman lowered his eyes, rising slowly from the ground.

“How did you end up here, and with the identity of a demon clan young lord, no less?”
By the dim moonlight streaming through the window, Yun Yao studied the profile of the young demon clansman before her.

It was strange.

If Mu Hanyuan’s current body was that of a demon clan young lord, the blood-red mark on his face wasn’t surprising.
Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this unfamiliar face, adorned with the demon mark, differed somehow from what she’d glimpsed in that fleeting, heart-stopping moment.
If she had to describe it, that earlier glimpse had felt more dangerous—overwhelmingly menacing.

Mu Hanyuan kept his gaze lowered, seemingly unaware of Yun Yao’s scrutiny.

He slowly loosened his fingers, one by one.
His demeanor and words were gentle and refined, as they had been outside the illusion.
“After being drawn into this illusion, my soul projection took on this demon’s body.
My earlier actions may have been influenced by this body’s instincts, perhaps offending you, Master.”

Yun Yao was slightly taken aback, instinctively glancing down at “her” own body.
“Can a soul projection be affected by its vessel?”

“The events in this illusion likely occurred thousands or tens of thousands of years ago.
The dragon statue that cast our souls into this realm is its master.
If it wills it, mere influence is the least of it…”
The young demon clansman’s voice trailed off, a faint trace of hidden delight in his tone, unnoticed by others.
“It could even seal memories, leaving the soul to follow the body’s instincts, believing itself to be the body’s true owner.”

“What does that mean?”
Yun Yao froze for a moment.

“Nothing… just a passing thought. Please be cautious, Master.”
Mu Hanyuan composed himself.

“Oh.”

Yun Yao felt an inexplicable unease but couldn’t pinpoint why, so she set it aside for now.

Recalling the contents of the letter, she frowned slightly.
“Since you’ve taken on the body of a demon clan young lord, doesn’t that mean no one knows the Dragon Lord’s weakness or how to obtain the Dragon Heart Scale?”

“Rest assured, Master. I know.”

“Hm?”
Yun Yao turned to him in surprise.

Mu Hanyuan lifted the shade of the ornate palace lamp beside the beauty couch, as if to light its wick.
With a gentle flick of his fingers, a spark bloomed in his palm.
The flickering flame illuminated his slender, warm, and well-proportioned fingers.
Even the demon mark beneath his brow seemed softened by the light.
Such grace could only belong to Mu Hanyuan.

Yun Yao let go of her last vague misgivings.

With a light wave of Mu Hanyuan’s hand, the small, lotus-like flame drifted from his palm into the copper tray holding the wick.

A soft hiss.

The flame wound along the lamp’s intricate threads, blooming like moonlit trees or starry flowers, dazzling to the eye.

The sparks scattered, flying throughout the palace.

In an instant, the entire hall was aglow with twinkling star-like flames.

Yun Yao turned back, stunned.

Mu Hanyuan stood with his hands lowered, calmly replacing the peony-patterned lamp shade.
As his sleeves fell, he straightened, his dark hair flowing like rippling water.
The lamplight traced a profile both cold and breathtakingly beautiful.
In the flickering light, Yun Yao glimpsed Mu Hanyuan’s face again, still marked by that cold, jade-like demon mark, both bewitchingly strange and strikingly alluring.

Yun Yao blinked hard.

It was gone again.

…Was she done for?
Had the evil flame at her brow driven her so far into madness that her soul was beyond saving?
Once she escaped this illusion, she’d track down that Red Dust Buddhist and get answers.

“Who is Master thinking of?”
Mu Hanyuan had somehow drawn closer to her side.

When his dark eyes flicked toward her, Yun Yao felt a chill like a blade of icy wind brushing past.
She froze for a moment.
“No one. I just don’t understand. I know nothing of this princess’s past or experiences.
How do you know secrets that this demon clan young lord knew?”

“Perhaps it’s the will of the illusion’s master.”
Mu Hanyuan answered lightly, then got to the point.
“The only Dragon Heart Scale in this illusion lies within the Dragon Lord Yuyan’s body.
To obtain it and escape the secret realm, we must exploit Yuyan’s greatest weakness.”

Yun Yao followed his words, frowning slightly.
“The true dragon bloodline was already a legend when Qianmen was founded.
Just now, I observed the Dragon Lord with my soul, and he’s nearly at the immortal tier.
This princess, however, is a mere mortal. How could she seize the Dragon Heart Scale?”

Mu Hanyuan picked up the lamp and moved to the table to brew a pot of tea, as if he’d done it countless times.
“True dragons are fated to endure forever.
Yet, as living beings, they follow the way of heaven’s nineteen cycles, with one flaw.
Even he must have a fatal weakness.”

“A fatal… weakness?”

“Every three thousand years, the ancient true dragon clan undergoes a tribulation.
They must pass through the thunder pool and leap the dragon gate to complete their rebirth.”

Yun Yao looked up.
“You mean the dragon’s tribulation is near?”

“Yes, in ten days,” Mu Hanyuan said softly.
“At that time, Master, you need only take advantage of the Dragon Lord’s weakness before he gathers strength for the tribulation.
Use the dragon scale dagger to cut out his Dragon Heart Scale, and it will cast him into eternal ruin.”

“—”

Yun Yao sat at the carved agarwood table, frozen, as if scalded by something, a chill running through her.

Mu Hanyuan leaned down to pour tea for her.
His long shadow, like ink, enveloped her entirely.

Lost in thought, Yun Yao didn’t look up, missing the glance her “obedient disciple” cast through lowered lashes.

Its dark intent seemed ready to swallow her whole.

The clear sound of tea being poured.

Fragrant mist rose, drawing Yun Yao’s mind back.
She picked up the teacup, listening to the warm, low voice beside her.
“Once you take the Dragon Heart Scale, we can leave together.”

“…Mm.”

Mu Hanyuan set down the teapot, slowly wiping the table’s edge near her wrist with a cloth, as if casually.
“Master wouldn’t hesitate to act, would she?”

Yun Yao didn’t even glance up, her tone lazy.
“Have I ever been anything but ruthless?”

Mu Hanyuan chuckled softly.
“Indeed, this disciple has felt it deeply.”

“…?”
Yun Yao caught his words a beat late, ready to look up and demand when she’d ever been ruthless to this ungrateful disciple.
But before she could speak—

“Please remember, Master, this is merely an illusion.
Even if these people die, they died thousands or tens of thousands of years ago, not today.”
Mu Hanyuan’s voice was low, almost bewitching.
“As long as we can escape, that’s enough.”

“?”

Yun Yao paused for a few breaths, slowly raising her eyes to look at Mu Hanyuan, propping her cheek lightly.

The demon clan young lord’s eyes held a sharp glint, yet his smile didn’t falter.
“Why is Master looking at me?”

“Hm, just feels like you’ve become much livelier since entering this place.”
Yun Yao smirked.
“Even talking more?”

Mu Hanyuan raised a brow slightly.
“Perhaps this body’s influence.”

“Makes sense.”
Yun Yao yawned, standing and stretching as she walked toward the couch.
“Not just you—I’m affected by this princess’s mortal body too.
Just staying awake a bit longer makes me this tired.”

Yun Yao sat on the couch’s edge, reaching to undo the curtains.
As if remembering something, she glanced at the young man still standing by the table.

His features were veiled in a faint haze, like distant mountains sketched in ink.
Deep, unfathomably so.

Yun Yao couldn’t discern the emotion in his gaze.
Clutching the curtain, she hesitated before speaking.
“Aren’t you… going to rest?”

“Master, are you truly asking me to leave?”
Mu Hanyuan’s voice was low, tinged with an odd emotion.

Yun Yao laughed.
“If I don’t ask you to leave, should I invite you to attend my bed?”

The girl in the bridal gown on the couch spoke carelessly, facing inward.
She didn’t notice that as her words landed, the man by the table raised his brows slightly, a cold, wicked glint in his eyes.
As if accustomed to something, he took a step toward the couch—

“This princess shouldn’t have such peculiar tastes.
Rest assured, even if she did, I’d keep her virtue intact.”
Yun Yao tugged the curtain closed.
“Go back early, don’t get caught.
I still have to get up tomorrow to do my ‘homework.’”

“—”

His step halted abruptly.
In the flickering lamplight, Mu Hanyuan paused for a few breaths, then smiled silently, his wicked gaze gleaming.
“Very well… Good night, Master.”

The next morning.

Birdsong drifted through the window, stirring the bed curtains in Muyun Hall.

Yun Yao, still groggy, hadn’t even begun her “homework” on the Dragon Lord’s preferences and taboos when Xiao Kou and a group of palace attendants hurriedly “dragged” her from the couch.

“Your Highness, how could you wake so late today?
His Majesty the Dragon Lord has been waiting in the Dragon Emperor Hall for quite some time!”

“Yesterday was exhausting with travel.
Sleeping in a bit today is…”
Yun Yao yawned hazily.
“…perfectly normal, isn’t it?”

“Your Highness!”

“…”

Yun Yao hadn’t felt the lethargy of a mortal body in years.
It reminded her of the days before she reached the Golden Core stage, when her senior brothers and sisters would take turns “escorting” her to morning lessons at Xuyang Peak—a painful memory.

The thought snapped her awake.

The girl, her bridal gown and inner robes disheveled from sleep, sat before the vanity like a lifeless rag doll, letting the palace attendants fuss over her grooming.

Nearly half an hour passed.

Finally, “Princess Changyong” was escorted to the palanquin headed for the Dragon Emperor Hall.

Muyun Hall wasn’t far from the Dragon Emperor Hall, but it wasn’t close either.
The journey offered views of gardens and pavilions, but Yun Yao, still drowsy, ignored them.
Instead, she pulled out the letter detailing the Dragon Lord’s preferences and taboos from her gown’s sash.

The first two pages had already been destroyed.
This one was meant for her “homework,” but she hadn’t had time to rehearse before Xiao Kou and the others yanked her from the couch.
Sharpening her blade at the last moment, she figured memorizing it would have to do for now.

With that thought, Yun Yao unfolded the letter, scanning and memorizing its contents.

Dragons love shiny things, like gold and treasures.

Dragons are lazy sleepers, dozing for eleven and a half hours out of twelve.

Dragons are idle, preferring to coil up rather than sprawl out.

Dragons love wrapping their tails around those they like, like the foolish dragons on those stone pillars.

Dragons are picky eaters, often drinking only lotus dew.

Dragons…

The dense text made Yun Yao’s eyes swim.
Forcing it into her mind, she finally reached the last line.

Just one more.

Yun Yao let out a long breath, glancing down.

The final line had only four words.

Dragons are lustful by nature.

Yun Yao: “…?”

“…???”