A Heartfelt Confession and a Bitter Realization

—No, no, no, it’s not a dead end yet.

At this moment, He Suosi grew surprisingly calm. He suppressed his fluctuating thoughts deep within his heart, his head bowed and his face obscured by the shadow of his hair.

He softly asked, “Immortal Monarch, do you know why I arranged this room in such a way?”

Yuan Zhigong furrowed his brow slightly but did not answer.

“Because you, Immortal Monarch, never touch me. When you come here, you only read books. So, I could only use books to keep you here a little longer.”

It had begun as an act, yet for some unknown reason, as he spoke, a dull ache seized He Suosi’s heart. Tears, like large pearls, spilled uncontrollably from his eyes, splattering onto the floor.

“I thought that after all this effort, I would, at least, be somewhat special in your eyes, Immortal Monarch.”

Having uttered these words, as if overwhelmed by emotion, He Suosi covered his face with his palms. Yet, the tears continued to stream ceaselessly through the gaps between his fingers. Beneath the shadow of his hands, He Suosi thought expressionlessly, ‘This time, I have to thank this bizarre body-swapping mess.’

He couldn’t see Yuan Zhigong, but he clearly felt the previously tense atmosphere being drawn back into his pace—or rather, into the “villainous” Pei Nishang’s pace.

Yuan Zhigong softly uttered, “I apologize.”

He Suosi continued to immerse himself in the persona, choking out, “Immoral Monarch, do you truly have no one you like? Then…”

“I do.”

The words, “Then can you not like me?” which were about to burst forth, became lodged in He Suosi’s throat.

—‘What the hell, why do you never follow the script?! Give me back my moving confession!’

Despite his inner collapse, He Suosi, ever the professional, instantly adopted the appropriate demeanor. He looked up, stunned, gazing blankly at Yuan Zhigong, his eyes slowly filling with astonishment. “Immortal Monarch, you have someone you like?”

Within those deep eyes, twinkling like myriad stars, an unbelievable sorrow seemed to spread in layers. At that moment, Yuan Zhigong’s expression reminded He Suosi of the real Pei Nishang. By the horizon of Lake Heart Sea Sky, beneath a star-filled sky as vibrant as a painting, Pei Nishang had worn a similar expression when she told him she wished to be special to the Monarch.

And now, Yuan Zhigong, with a similar look, spoke in a voice like fractured ice. “What’s so rare about loving someone you cannot have?”

—‘Actually, that’s very rare! Who the hell could you possibly not get?!’

The raging flames of gossip almost consumed He Suosi’s feigned self-pity. He couldn’t help but ask, “Who is it?”

Yuan Zhigong gazed at He Suosi, his eyes suddenly darkening like deep wells. He seemed about to speak, but though his mouth slightly parted, no words ultimately emerged.

“You should rest well.”

Leaving the book on the table, Yuan Zhigong turned and departed.

After that, the Guangyu Immortal Monarch never came again.

He Suosi realized he had officially fallen out of favor. The original Pei Nishang had exhausted herself trying to secure the Monarch’s attention for centuries, yet he had merely spoken to the man once and lost it all. He wondered if Pei Nishang’s ghost would want to kill him even more if she knew.

Lan Jun and Zhuyu appeared even more anxious than he was. Every day, they racked their brains for ideas to help “Mistress” regain favor. Zhuyu’s actions were understandable, but why was Lan Jun so proactive? Shouldn’t she know that he wasn’t really a concubine? He Suosi felt this was the most inexplicable thing he had encountered since transmigrating.

Three months after he fell out of favor, Zhuyu finally reached her limit. She rushed into the room with a dress, knelt on the ground, and pleaded, “Immortal Fairy, please wear this dress and take a bowl of soup to the Immortal Monarch.”

He Suosi, who was currently preoccupied with deciphering the Guangyu Immortal Sect’s barrier, paused, his face filled with bewilderment.

Zhuyu looked up, her face streaked with tears. “Is the Immortal Fairy heartbroken by the Monarch’s coldness? But he is the leader of the Immortal Realm, managing myriad affairs daily; he naturally has little time for personal feelings. Moreover, so many years have passed. If you were to fall out of favor now, how many would seize the opportunity to kick you when you’re down? I know you are not afraid, Mistress, but you would still feel slighted, wouldn’t you?”

—‘But I wouldn’t,’ He Suosi thought. ‘And your Immortal Monarch is extremely concerned with personal romantic feelings—he’s 100% got a secret crush.’

However, Zhuyu’s appearance was truly pitiful. He Suosi, left with no choice, finally accepted the dress. The water-blue long-sleeved ruqun flowed like water in his hands. The fabric was incredibly soft, exuding a faint floral scent.

“Why must I wear this specific one?”

Zhuyu’s face lit up with joy. She quickly reached out to help him change. “Immortal Fairy, have you forgotten? The Immortal Monarch loves to see you dance in this dress the most.”

“…Dance? Dance?!” He Suosi immediately threw the dress back into Zhuyu’s arms. “I’m not going.”

Zhuyu instantly looked as if she was about to faint.

He Suosi’s heart softened once more. “Alright, alright, where’s the soup? I’ll go, okay?”

Zhuyu gleefully helped him change. She then brought a pot of chicken soup. The aroma was intoxicating, and He Suosi swallowed several mouthfuls of saliva just from smelling it. He couldn’t help but praise, “Zhuyu, you make excellent soup.”

Lan Jun, who was arranging his hair ornaments, interjected, “Mistress, you must tell him the soup was made by you.”

He Suosi was taken aback. “That would be too embarrassing. There’s nothing wrong with saying Zhuyu made it, is there?”

Zhuyu quickly urged, “Mistress, just say you made it. There’s no difference between the soup this servant makes and the soup you make.”

He Suosi was unconvinced, but he verbally agreed nonetheless. Once he was fully dressed and groomed, the maids escorted him toward the study. Along the way, they encountered a group of women in the garden.

Among the group were three exquisitely dressed beauties. He Suosi recognized the round-faced beauty in the middle—Chang Jiaren. The one on the right was Wang Zhongge, as vibrant and captivating as ever.

The three had been chatting happily, but upon seeing He Suosi approaching, their smiles vanished. It was Chang Jiaren who reacted fastest, stepping forward with a smile. “Has Pei Jiaren fully recovered? I heard you were unwell, but I encountered a bottleneck in my cultivation and couldn’t visit. Please don’t blame me.”

He Suosi immediately smiled brightly. “How could I blame you? Bottlenecks are unpredictable.”

The female cultivator on the left quickly added, “We were just about to consult the Immortal Monarch…”

Before her words fully left her lips, Chang Jiaren suddenly interrupted in a flustered tone, “What are you saying? We merely came here for a stroll.”

He Suosi felt very awkward. It couldn’t be a misconception; they truly seemed to be quite afraid of “Pei Nishang.” It appeared she had been the true boss of the inner residence.

To ease the atmosphere, he displayed the soup. “I’m bringing the Immortal Monarch a bowl of soup. Zhuyu… I mean, I made it.”

Chang Jiaren showed genuine admiration. “How fragrant! Did you use Cloud Brocade Pheasant? Its meat is the most tender.”

He Suosi prevaricated, “Um… probably, yes.”

Chang Jiaren smiled. “Pei Jiaren has excellent culinary skills. You should hurry now; the soup won’t be good if it gets cold.” She stepped aside, making way for him.

Once they were further away, Zhuyu indignantly remarked, “Truly, the world is cold. The Mistress has only been out of favor for a few months, and they’ve already started ganging up.”

He Suosi was puzzled. “It’s fine, isn’t it? They were very respectful.”

Zhuyu, however, said, “Doesn’t the Mistress despise seeing the beauties gathered in groups? You used to say they neither cultivate properly nor serve the Monarch, only gossiping and plotting.”

He Suosi fell silent. He wasn’t the real Pei Nishang; her logic was beyond him.

At the study, the maids stopped, telling He Suosi to go alone.

“Mistress, tell the Immortal Monarch about past events. He will surely pity you,” Zhuyu said.

“Mistress, speak a lot. Anything is fine,” Lan Jun added.

Looking at their earnest gazes, He Suosi felt like a high school student heading into a final exam. He dragging the long train of his skirt toward the door and knocked.