The sweet scent invading his senses became addictive — almost painful.
A child passed by him, hand in hand with their parents, smiling with innocence.
And each smile was a blow to **Xiu Zhao's** self-control.
His eyes glimmered with a reddish hue, instinct roared, and his breath faltered.
The glow faded for a moment, but the craving remained.
Xiu Zhao leaned against the wall, trying to breathe, trying to be human.
But the air felt heavy — every aroma, every pulse of life around him called out to him.
A woman and several children walked nearby.
The hunger consumed him entirely.
And to restrain himself, he sank his fangs into his own arm.
The skin tore, blood trickled in thick drops, staining the fabric.
His growls were muffled by flesh and pain.
That was how he stayed alive — by hurting himself so he wouldn't hurt others.
When he lifted his gaze, his body no longer obeyed him.
His strength abandoned him.
And before he could fall, unfamiliar arms caught him.
A cold presence, wrapped in shadows.
Without a word, the figure carried him away — vanishing into the darkness.
…
The figure in a black cloak appeared in luminous fragments inside a room bathed in golden light.
Carefully, he placed Xiu Zhao upon a simple bed.
He removed his hood, revealing long black hair tied in a high bun.
A face of soft, elegant features — a beauty even the gods would envy.
A fine jawline, slender nose, lips pink as petals, and an ethereal air that balanced between the masculine and the divine.
Hua Xu was a vision of calm and power.
A light knock at the door made him lift his head.
"Enter." His voice was deep, serene, with a warm timbre.
A servant in light garments entered and bowed.
"Master, a letter has arrived for you." She placed the envelope on the table and withdrew silently.
Hua Xu gazed at the letter.
A living aura emanated from it, as if the paper itself breathed.
His fingers trembled.
He sat down, took a deep breath, and finally broke the seal.
The world dissolved into an immense golden glow.
Hua Xu now stood upon a river of light.
And before him, a silhouette formed — a familiar presence.
Yu Sheng.
The fragment of soul seemed almost human, warm to the touch.
When Hua Xu placed a hand on his head, he felt real warmth — almost painful.
Then Yu Sheng's voice echoed, soft, broken, filled with remorse.
"Hua Xu… I know you have my son.
Thank you for finding him.
Take care of him for me — I failed as a father, I failed as a man.
Teach him to be happy, to live, to find a reason in this cruel world.
Do not blame him for my mistakes… I only ever wanted to protect him.
To protect you both.
If ever your sword should fall, I will fight for us both, until the end."
The words carried pain, tenderness, and regret.
With the final sentence, Yu Sheng smiled — a sad smile that weighed on Hua Xu's heart.
The fragment dissolved into light, and the gold faded away.
Back in the room, Hua Xu opened his eyes.
The paper disintegrated between his fingers, vanishing into the air.
He walked to the window, letting the breeze touch his face.
And he smiled — a calm smile, yet filled with longing.
When he turned around, Xiu Zhao was already awake, sitting on the bed, his gaze confused.
"Who are you?" he asked in a low, cautious voice.
"My name is **Hua Xu**," the man replied serenely. "And you, what is your name, child?"
"What do you want from me?" The question came out like a blade — cold and direct.
Hua Xu sighed, chuckling softly.
"What a complicated child… I'm a demon hunter and—"
"How ironic," interrupted Xiu Zhao, with a mocking smile. "A demon hunting another."
"It's not what you think." His voice remained calm. "I only hunt those who devour human souls, those who spread chaos.
Those who have become curses.
And you… are one of them."
"I'm not a curse," he muttered, pouting slightly.
Hua Xu smiled faintly. "I didn't say you were. I only said you are… different." His sense of smell caught a subtle trace of blood. "Interesting."
Xiu Zhao watched him silently.
The man's beauty was undeniable, but what intrigued him most was the black band covering his eyes.
"What happened to your eyes?" he asked hesitantly.
"Hm?" Hua Xu turned his face, surprised. "I don't see as others do. I feel.
I sense presences — of people, plants, even inanimate things.
But you still haven't told me your name."
"Yu Xiu Zhao," he answered, smiling shyly.
The man smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
"Then, Xiu Zhao… would you like to live with me?"
"Can I?" he asked, eyes shining.
Hua Xu nodded, and the boy hugged him without hesitation.
The man gently stroked his hair.
When Xiu Zhao touched Hua Xu's face, something soft stirred in the air — a touch of familiarity, a distant echo of memory.
A while later, Hua Xu removed his boots and lay down beside him.
"Sleep. We leave early tomorrow."
Xiu Zhao closed his eyes, nestling into the man's warmth.
And for the first time in a long while, he slept peacefully.
…
By morning, Hua Xu was already up, dressed in light robes.
Xiu Zhao woke, changed clothes, and ate the meal left on the table.
Soon, a servant appeared.
"Young master, Lord Hua Xu awaits you downstairs."
The carriage was ready at the entrance.
The sun shone brightly, and the red ribbons in the corridors danced with the wind.
Xiu Zhao stepped in, sitting beside Hua Xu.
"Where are your belongings?" the man asked.
"Here," he said, showing the golden ring with a green stone.
Hua Xu looked at it, surprised. "That ring… it bears Yu Sheng's aura!"
"It was a gift from my father," said the boy, lowering his gaze.
"He must love you deeply to give you something like that," Hua Xu replied with a soft laugh.
"Do you know my father?" Xiu Zhao asked, curious.
"Everyone knows him," he said enigmatically. "That's why so many want him dead."
"And you?" Xiu Zhao's voice trembled slightly. "Do you also wish to see him die?"
"No," Hua Xu looked at him tenderly. "Seeing Yu Sheng dead would be like losing the last fragment of who I once was."
A deep silence followed.
But Xiu Zhao smiled — a small, confused, sincere smile.
Days passed slowly.
The Hua estate became a quiet home, full of gardens and gentle breezes.
Every afternoon, Xiu Zhao sat on the veranda, letting the sunlight touch his face.
"It's been years, and you're still in my mind, Li Chen Yi," he murmured with a fragile smile. "I hope you haven't forgotten me."
Twilight enveloped him, and night fell.
…
The fever began that night.
Xiu Zhao's body burned, sweat drenched him, and his breathing grew erratic.
He tossed and turned, murmuring in his sleep, "Hot… it's so hot…"
The servants panicked.
They brought wet cloths, cold water, prayers.
Nothing worked.
"His body is burning up!" one cried.
"Call the doctor!"
The doctor arrived in haste, examined the boy, and stepped back in alarm.
"This fever… is not human," he murmured, stroking his beard. "Give him this medicine. Perhaps by morning, his body will calm."
The servants obeyed.
As the night deepened, the room sank into silence.
And then, a gentle presence entered through the shadows.
Golden particles danced in the air, taking shape.
A fox.
Chen Yi.
He approached, kneeling beside the bed.
His fingers brushed Xiu Zhao's face — the cold touch contrasting with the feverish heat.
"My angel… what is happening to you?" he whispered, caressing him tenderly.
The boy's body calmed slightly.
Chen Yi smiled, sadly.
"I'll find a cure for you, my dear."
He kissed his forehead and vanished in fragments of light.
The room fell silent once more.
And between fever and dreams, Xiu Zhao smiled.