One Night of Cold Rain Buries the Famous Flower, Part 3

The call of “Hanyuan” silenced the entire garden.

After a surge of undercurrents lasting several breaths, it was the demon clan young lord, under the guise of “shadow guard,” who first lowered his silver-patterned mask.
His sharp jawline tensed with restraint, his voice inexplicably hoarse.
“Yes… Your Highness.”

Yun Yao feared he might call her “Master.”

As the demon youth’s back vanished into the garden without a glance, Yun Yao breathed a slight sigh of relief, yet felt inexplicably guilty.
Before she could ponder further, her waist tightened—
Yuyan pulled her thoughts back to him.

“Why did you call him ‘Hanyuan’?”
The Dragon Lord leaned slightly, his chin nearly brushing her collarbone.
This closeness made Yun Yao uncomfortable, forcing her to maintain Princess Changyong’s smile.

“Well, that’s the shadow guard’s clan name,” Yun Yao said softly.
“Your Majesty wouldn’t be jealous over something like this, would you?”

“I really don’t like you calling him that.”
His long lashes swept down, casting shadows over his lake-blue eyes, as if truly saddened.

To sadden the world’s last ancient true dragon—Yun Yao inwardly marveled at her own capability.
On the surface, she feigned innocence.
“Why?”

“Hearing you call him that gives me the feeling that something extremely important has been stolen from me.”
Yuyan’s tone lightened, his long eyes lifting slightly.
“Perhaps because to him, he’s Hanyuan, but to me, I’m Your Majesty.”

Yun Yao choked.
‘Princess Changyong’s notebook missed one: this dragon seems raised in a vat of vinegar?’

Her mind raced through the dragon traits booklet.
She pointed to the cool couch beneath the pavilion.
“Yan Liang, you must be tired too? Shall we rest there for a midday nap?”

“…”

Dissatisfaction flickered in his lake-blue dragon eyes, but it was quickly overtaken by instinctive drowsiness from her words.
The Dragon Lord hesitated, then lowered his lashes.
“…Alright.”
Before Yun Yao could slip away, he grasped her wrist, lifting the adorned girl and heading to the pavilion.
“But you must accompany me.”

Yun Yao: “…”

The garden conversation faded, carried away by the breeze and clouds, mingled with birdsong, gradually shrouded in the cool shade of flowers and trees.

Beneath the stacked stones and lush bamboo, in the garden’s most hidden corner.
The demon clan young lord, masked in silver patterns, leaned against a straight bamboo stalk, arms crossed.
His long lashes lowered, he stood silently in the shadowy ink-like abyss.
Wind rustled the bamboo, waves of shadows surging at his feet, one tide over another, as if to swallow him—or like the anguished cries before dormancy.

Finally, calm returned.

On the greenstone path, a reluctant phantom emerged from the rippling shadows, a tiny dragon form.

In appearance, it matched the dragon statue Yun Yao saw before entering the illusion, outside the ruined dragon palace.

But now, the palm-sized dragon phantom was entwined in blood-red demonic flames, branded deeply into its form, tormenting it into ceaseless struggle.
Silent shocks rippled from its raised, defiant maw, tearing countless tiny, terrifying fissures in the illusion space.
Yet, despite this, it remained trapped, sinking deeper into the mire, unable to escape.

“If you insist on opposing me, I can play along forever. I’ve always had patience for killing,” the demon young lord said lazily against the bamboo, his voice laced with weary coldness.
“Play until… your pitiful dragon soul resentment dissipates, and even this illusion you maintain crumbles. How about that?”

“—”

As if struck at a vital point, the ferociously struggling dragon phantom froze.

Several breaths later.
A voice of shock and doubt sounded in the demon young lord’s ear.
“How do you know what I am?”

If Yun Yao were present, she’d recognize it as the weakened voice from the dragon stone statue that pulled her and Mu Hanyuan into the illusion.

Receiving no answer, the dragon phantom’s voice turned vicious.
“Who are you, and how did you enter the illusion!”

The demon young lord lowered his head with a laugh.
“Didn’t you pull me in?”

“Nonsense! I clearly pulled in one man and one woman; you’re not either…”
The dragon phantom’s raspy voice halted.
Moments later, it exclaimed in doubt.
“Wait, why is your soul aura so similar to one of them?”

“…Similar?”

As if hearing something infuriating, the demon young lord’s amused voice turned icy.
He straightened slowly, his fingers gripping the air.
“Try again?”

“—!!”

A wail capable of shaking the space, unheard by any beings in the illusion, burst from the dragon phantom’s mouth.
It suffered, its form flickering in midair, on the verge of dissipation.
“Heaven’s… punishment… imprint… you… have been to the immortal realm… no, impossible…”

“Even if your true dragon soul were here, I wouldn’t care—let alone you.”

Mu Hanyuan leaned down, casually pinching it with two fingers and lifting it.
“But I should thank you. Without this place projecting souls into the illusion, I couldn’t act so freely.”

The dragon phantom trembled in midair, barely holding form.

The demon youth sighed thinly, his lashes lowering beneath the mask, lazy yet nostalgic.
“A pity this illusion won’t last long. Otherwise, I’d prefer to stay here forever… ideally, until the end of time.”

“…”

After gasping for a while, the dragon phantom regained some vitality.
It struggled weakly.
“I see… you’re also a wandering soul… just a wandering soul…”

“I’m not like you,” the demon young lord laughed, delight blooming as vivid demonic patterns stained his eyes, dark ink churning beneath his lashes.
“At this stage, your original body might have been harmed by others, but I chose this myself.”

The dragon phantom shuddered, resentment surging anew from its form.
“What you gave her wasn’t the dragon scale dagger!!”

“Does it matter to you? The outcome was set tens of thousands of years ago. These are just your laughable resentments.”
Black flames ignited between his fingers, scorching the soul, yet the demon youth seemed oblivious, shaking it carelessly.
“I’m not interested in your tragic past, nor do I plan to interfere. In fact, once we leave and I achieve what I want, I can even lend you a hand. Naturally, I mean your hidden true body outside, not this foolish, useless resentment.”

“…What do you want?” the dragon phantom rasped.
“Your soul bears heaven’s punishment imprint, so a body matching your soul would be unbeatable even at my true body’s peak. You abandoned it, leaving a remnant soul, just to attach to that person… are you after his vessel?”

Before the demon young lord could reply.

The dragon phantom trembled, this time hissing in laughter.
“I thought I was mad enough, but you’re worse—his mortal body, though exceptionally gifted, is only at the Harmony realm. It can’t bear your soul! Abandoning a semi-immortal body for a mortal one—ridiculous!!”

“—You understand nothing.”

His eyes narrowed with thin malice, Mu Hanyuan’s fingers tightening suddenly.
The dragon phantom wailed in pain.

“What he possesses, you wouldn’t glimpse in tens of thousands of years…”

Pinching the dragon phantom nearly breathless, demonic patterns blood-red on the demon youth’s eyelids, his gaze lifted forward, as if piercing the layered stones and flowers, landing on the garden center.

“And that was originally mine.”

“…”

—

Under the visible heavens, endless demonic flames. Before the writhing, wailing ghosts, the ink-robed figure at the zither lifted his gaze fiercely.
Blood-red demonic patterns climbed his eyes, raising them with lethal intent toward here.

[Give—]
[It—back—to—me!]

“…!”

In the stone garden pavilion, the Dragon Lord Yuyan, napping on the cool couch, suddenly opened his eyes.
His aura surged, rattling the glazed tiles overhead.

Yun Yao, lazily reclining nearby, startled awake, turning from the garden view.

“What’s wrong?”

Before her words finished, the Dragon Lord seized her wrist, flipping her onto the stone couch and pinning her down.
He leaned over, his lake-blue eyes vast as oceans.
“Who is he?”

“—?”

Yun Yao inexplicably wanted to strike him with a sword but followed Changyong’s facade, her eyes innocently asking.
“Did Your Majesty have a dream? Who?”

Yuyan froze.
After a few breaths, he released her hand, sitting aside.
“Sorry, Changyong…?” The name, spoken countless times, felt strangely awkward. He pinched his brow.
“I did seem to have a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?”

Yun Yao, rubbing her wrist, paused and looked up. She’d said it casually, not expecting an ancient dragon of peak cultivation to dream, let alone a nightmare.

“What did you dream?” Yun Yao asked curiously.
“Changyong, um, me?”

“Another person.”
Yuyan propped his forehead, shaking his dizzy head.
“Very familiar, like… I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Yun Yao: “Did that person do something to you?”

“He wanted to steal something from me, my most important thing.”

“—!”
Yun Yao guiltily gripped her sleeve, instinctively staring at the Dragon Lord Yuyan’s chest.

Before she could touch the hidden dragon scale dagger, Yuyan grasped her fingertips, clenching them in his palm.
He pulled her entire body into his embrace—
His golden dragon tail wrapped around her waist, familiar as ever.

Yun Yao: “…”
This damned familiarity.

But this time was different; Yuyan held her with immense force, as if to crush her, carrying an overwhelming, unprecedented desire he’d never shown.

“I won’t let anyone steal you,” he murmured, eyes closed, kissing her dark hair.
“No one.”

“…”

Hearing the dreamlike murmur above, Yun Yao’s struggling thoughts gradually calmed.

…Fine, just nine days.
Consider it a debt to this dragon.

Yun Yao hadn’t expected that, unlike the clingy dragon tail in the pavilion that day, her following days would be so leisurely—

Leisurely, as if thrown into the cold palace before even marrying.

“Your Highness, it’s been seven days since the Dragon Lord summoned you or visited Muyun Hall. Are you really doing nothing?”

“Hm?”
Yun Yao lounged in the armchair before the vanity, glancing up in the mirror.

Standing behind, Xiao Kou combed her hair while muttering softly.
“You haven’t stepped outside once, so you haven’t heard. Dragon-Serving City is abuzz that the new human princess angered the Dragon Lord before marriage, losing his favor.”

Yun Yao turned in surprise.
“When did I ever have his favor?”

Xiao Kou: “…”
The girl seemed utterly helpless.
“Even if you’re the only noble in Dragon-Serving City, you can’t be so casual. We’re human; the city is full of demons. Without favor, we’ll be bullied.”

“Not likely.”

Princess Changyong plotted regicide; what favor did she need?
But—

Yun Yao mentally calculated the time.
Only one day remained until Mu Hanyuan mentioned the dragon’s rebirth tribulation. Perhaps preparing for it, no summons came from the Dragon Emperor Hall, nor mention of marriage. Her plan to act during the wedding naturally failed.

“Can’t keep waiting passively,” Yun Yao tilted her head slightly in the mirror, adjusting the gold filigree peony hairpin.
“I should find a chance to visit the Dragon Emperor Hall myself.”

Xiao Kou startled.
“Your Highness, going directly to the Dragon Emperor Hall? Isn’t that too abrupt?”

“Then lure him here, say…” Yun Yao fiddled with the gold tassels on the hairpin, her eyes brightening.
“That I’m ill?”

Xiao Kou hesitated.
“Deceiving the Dragon Lord is a grave crime.”

“Not that either? Then what…” Before Yun Yao finished, a palace attendant’s voice sounded outside.

“Princess, His Majesty decrees: please attend the Dragon Emperor Hall at the end of you hour today.”
“…”

Yun Yao froze before the mirror.

Today was the Dragon Lord Yuyan’s rebirth tribulation; nightfall would be his weakest, vulnerable even to mortals—did he trust and love Princess Changyong so much that, instead of hiding safely, he wanted her by his side?

“Your Highness, thank him quickly.” Seeing no response, Xiao Kou whispered a reminder.

Yun Yao snapped back, accepting the decree with mixed feelings.

Once the attendant left, Xiao Kou couldn’t suppress her smile.
“Your Highness and His Majesty are truly heaven-made, thinking alike. You just thought of seeing him, and he summons you.”

“Yes.”
Yun Yao smiled guiltily and forcedly.
Indeed “heaven-made”—she pondered how to kill him, and he handed her the knife.

In the mirror, the window’s daylight faded to dark, then turned to dawn.

As dusk’s amber hue veiled the clouds in orange-gold gauze, the water clock neared the end of you hour.
Yun Yao’s tasseled palanquin stopped outside the Dragon Emperor Hall’s inner chamber.

The ornate robe hem dragged over the dark rosewood threshold, spilling golden twilight into the hall. Attendants lifted the dragon-phoenix gold-embroidered gauze curtains, layer by layer deeper, until the final one revealed the Dragon Lord Yuyan’s bedchamber.

Before the last gauze curtain, the guiding attendant stopped and turned.
“His Majesty rests within; he allows no disturbances lately. We can only escort you here; we take our leave.”
The attendant bowed, leaving swiftly without chance for Yun Yao to speak.

Yun Yao hesitated before the final curtain, then lifted it. A carved ink-jade screen blocked her view.

Through the carved gaps, Yun Yao glimpsed the dimly candlelit hall. On the innermost couch, the Dragon Lord Yuyan lay sideways under the quilt.

Yun Yao paused.

Yuyan summoned her here.
Yet he slept?

“…Your Majesty?” Bypassing the screen lightly, Yun Yao whispered toward the couch.
“Yan Liang?”

No response from the couch.
Yun Yao stopped beside it, leaning down. Unusually, his lowered lashes were frosted, like a deity slumbering in icy heavens.
After hesitating and seeing no sign of awareness or awakening, she reached out tentatively.
Her fingertips hovered over his profile, then descended, testing his neck’s temperature.

As expected, it was chilling, like touching ice.

If not for his faint breath, Yun Yao might think he’d perished, saving her the effort.

“Is this the rebirth tribulation? Truly terrifying.” Yun Yao sighed, drawing the star-dappled dragon scale dagger from her sleeve, cradling it. She gazed down assessing.
“This is just an illusion; even if I don’t kill you, you died eons ago. Why not do one last good deed, sending me and the others out?”

The Dragon Lord Yuyan on the couch remained motionless, not even a lash tremble.

Yun Yao blinked.
“Since you say nothing, I’ll take it as agreement.”

The dagger unsheathed.
It gleamed coldly in the candlelight, its peerless edge raised toward the sleeping Dragon Lord Yuyan’s chest.

As if in eager response, Yun Yao saw, through his moon-white robe, the faint golden Dragon Heart Scale glowing increasingly bright in his heart.

[Can’t delay. He’ll wake.]
A voice seemed to whisper enticingly in her ear, an invisible force pressing her wrist, driving the dagger down.

Yun Yao closed her eyes.

In her life as Yun Yao, she’d killed many deserving demons. Closing her eyes, faces remembered or forgotten paraded like a lantern show, endless.
One more wouldn’t matter.
Nor should it.

But the dagger halted inches from his heart.

Yun Yao opened her eyes, her other hand rising to gently cover the sleeping Yuyan’s eyes—

She couldn’t forget that pavilion scene: him with eyes veiled in white silk, dark hair like clouds wrapped in snow-white ribbon, overlapping almost perfectly with Mu Hanyuan’s figure.

Why.
Why did he resemble him so much?

Yun Yao sighed softly, lowering her hand from Yuyan’s eyes.
“Who exactly are you…”

Her words cut off.
Her hand, just touching his straight nose, froze—

Beneath her pinky, his lashes lifted, lake-blue eyes like icy jade, clear and silent, gazing at her.

Yun Yao: “!”
Without thinking, she covered them again.

“Must be mistaken, or the way I removed my hand…” As Yun Yao self-soothed, Yuyan’s sleeve rose, his distinct fingers gripping her dagger-holding wrist suspended over his heart.

Perhaps too forcefully, frost seeped from his bent knuckles.
It chilled Yun Yao with a shiver.

Covering was futile now; Yun Yao awkwardly removed her left hand from his eyes.
“Um, you might not believe it, but this dagger was actually to…”

Before she could stall and invent a life-saving excuse.

The fingers on her wrist tightened, pressing down—

The icy dagger plunged toward his heart.

“—!”
Yun Yao looked up in shock, meeting those lake-blue eyes.
“What are you doing!”
Without thinking, her left hand gripped the dagger’s cold blade, halting its entry into his heart.

The crude pain shot from her palm instantly; Yun Yao inwardly cursed the illusion’s realism. Beneath her, Yuyan, once coldly aloof, frowned suddenly, his grip on her wrist loosening.

Blood flowed down, dripping from the dagger tip.

Plop.
Scarlet stained the moon-white robe’s chest.

“…Why?”

The couch-bound Yuyan finally spoke, his slightly dry lips pursing, voice tinged with familiar hoarseness.
But Yun Yao had no time to identify it.
“Are you mad? Do you know what this is?”

“I know; you must kill me to leave here.”

“—?”

Yun Yao’s unspoken words choked in her throat.
She stared at him in shock.

In that moment, the man on the couch mustered rare strength, pulling Yun Yao to the couch’s inner side, flipping to pin her wrist and press her down.

It took only a breath or two.

When Yun Yao recovered, she was subdued beneath.
She frowned for two breaths, seeming to realize something, raising a brow.
“You faked me out deliberately, waiting for my guard to drop?”

Yuyan, above her, gazed down with inexplicably complex eyes, silent.

Only his ink-satin hair cascaded from his shoulder, blanketing her.
A faint, damp cool fragrance gradually seeped into Yun Yao’s senses, inducing a hazy drowsiness.
“Did I… fall for your trap?”

“No.”

Yun Yao felt her wrist lifted again, the bloodied dagger flickering in the candle’s remnant light.

The long shadow over her slowly descended.

The candle extinguished.
In darkness, a most familiar voice, clear as jade beads, sounded low:

“Master, you weren’t this indecisive before.”

“—Squelch.”

The thin blade tearing flesh drowned his words.

In Yun Yao’s widening eyes, only pitch black.
She felt scalding liquid surge from above, crimson blood drenching her.

“Mu… Hanyuan?”

She reached tremblingly to cover the horrific cavity in his chest.

But before touching the gruesome wound, her fingertips were grasped in his palm.

“It’ll… pass soon…”

He finally collapsed weakly, slowly lowering his neck, resting softly against her cheek.
He closed his eyes, murmuring low.

“Good… night, Master.”