Chapter 235

Chapter 235

◎Ji Naonao Is No Longer Cold◎

Xiao Min fell asleep and never woke up again.

After cremating Xiao Min, Chen Xi, He Long, and the others buried her on the mountain of Bamulin Forest, facing the direction of the bamboo house so she could always see her home.

Beside Xiao Min lay her sister. He Long gazed at the two graves, one old and one new, and sighed softly, "The sisters are finally reunited."

One sister, tortured beyond recognition yet clinging to life just to see her younger sister one last time. The other sister, waiting here all these years just for her sister to come home.

He Long still remembered vividly the young girl who had run out of the mountains wearing a flower crown when he brought her sister back that year—her smile had been so radiant.

Chen Xi looked toward the bamboo house and asked quietly, "Are there any other Gu sorceresses in this village?"

Fan Jiao shook his head. "I made a special trip to check. Everyone here is ordinary—no Gu sorceresses or Gu practitioners."

Chen Xi: "Then how did Xiao Min and her sister..."

He Long: "According to the investigation back then, it was their grandmother. During the era when the country was rebuilding and 'feudal superstitions' were being heavily suppressed, their grandmother was still very young. She had to migrate with her clan, but they were eventually scattered. She married, had children... Gu sorceresses are inherited through bloodlines, so it must have continued that way."

Chen Xi: "Are there any Gu sorceresses left in their clan?"

Fan Jiao: "There shouldn’t be. Training a Gu sorceress is extremely complicated. It might have been possible over a hundred years ago during the chaotic wars, but generally, once one is painstakingly cultivated, the lineage would continue. A single Gu clan having one sorceress is already remarkable."

Chen Xi scattered petals over the new grave. "Then let them rest peacefully here from now on—no more schemes, exploitation, or suffering."

Tan Ling's case had yet to conclude. Although Zhang Haoyu and the others were dead, their deaths were suppressed, and the public was still awaiting a trial. However, the Bureau had already reached a decision regarding Chen Xi’s punishment.

Chen Xi hadn’t been the one to kill them, but she had planted the Gu worms and had premeditated the murders. Though her motives involved avenging wrongful deaths, actions were still actions—she couldn’t simply go unpunished.

Thus, the Bureau decided to keep Chen Xi in their custody, confining her for three years. Half of the wages she earned working for the Bureau would be deducted and donated. After three years, whether she chose to leave or stay would be up to her.

Chen Xi had no objections to the ruling. She had already prepared herself for prison time, so this outcome was already a reprieve in her eyes.

By the time Ji Nanxing and the others wrapped up their finals and began winter break, the sentences for Zhang Haoyu and his group were handed down. Zhang Haoyu was sentenced to twelve years, while Guo Yuchen and Jiang Cheng, as accomplices, received ten years due to the severity of their crimes.

Zhang Haoyu’s father was sentenced to eight years for embezzlement, bribery, and abuse of power. His mother, Hua Zijun, faced the heaviest sentence—fifteen years—for bribery, malicious cover-ups, assault, and plagiarism, among other charges.

The bodies of Zhang Haoyu and the other two were disposed of secretly, with their deaths to be announced separately years later.

Several members of the Zhang family were imprisoned or ousted from their positions. They bitterly resented Zhang Haoyu—aside from Hua Zijun, who still worried about her son, no one else cared about his fate. But Hua Zijun herself had lost her freedom, making it easy to conceal Zhang Haoyu’s death.

After Guo Yuchen’s arrest, his father immediately cut ties with him. Plummeting share prices and a ruined company reputation left him with a disaster he couldn’t salvage, let alone care about his son’s life. He only learned of the sentencing through his secretary and couldn’t even be bothered to visit Guo Yuchen. Furious at how his son had dragged the company down, he wished his son had never been born.

But no matter how much he wanted to disown his son, the father-son bond couldn’t be erased. Guo’s father was forced to bear the consequences of his son’s actions, eventually even being forced out of his directorship. Though he didn’t end up destitute, his early investments in the energy sector—on the verge of paying off—were now out of his reach. The rage precipitated a stroke, leaving him even less capable of dealing with Guo Yuchen’s affairs.

Of the three who died, only Jiang Cheng’s parents were informed and allowed to collect his ashes. They were also warned not to speak carelessly, as deaths linked to Gu worms were difficult to explain to the public.

The couple had thought the ordeal was over—that their son would be released after serving his sentence. Instead, they received an urn of ashes.

Jiang’s father stared blankly at He Long, who had come to break the news. "Why? We were told that if my son apologized publicly, Chen Xi would let him go. He apologized! He admitted his guilt! Why?"

He Long: "Because the Gu sorceress died. Once she died, the Mother Gu on her died as well. So Jiang Cheng, Guo Yuchen, and Zhang Haoyu all died in custody at the same time. But this won’t be announced publicly—their deaths will be reported separately later."

He Long had phased the announcements in his explanation. There was no need to delve into the details—they only needed to know the outcome.

Jiang’s mother looked helplessly at her husband, then at He Long. "The Gu sorceress is dead? Our son... is gone too?"

For now, only you are aware of this matter. Don't speak of it publicly. While we should respect the dead, some things aren't appropriate to discuss now. But regarding Jiang Cheng's death, you also bear responsibility.

If they had properly disciplined their son—not demanding he be particularly upright or kind, just a normal person with basic values—Tan Ling's tragic death wouldn't have occurred, and Jiang Cheng wouldn't have met this fate. It’s all just karma.

Hua Zijun, imprisoned, only learned of her son's death three years later. She was told he died of a sudden illness.

She sat on the prison bunk, staring at a small window, her mind drifting to the child she had personally aborted years ago. Back then, their family wasn't just wealthy and influential—they were out of ordinary people’s league.

She didn’t care who her son dated, but his future spouse had to be of equal social standing. How could they have a child before then?

If she had kept that child, her grandchild would be in elementary school by now.

But the world doesn’t deal in 'ifs'. She had aborted her grandchild, and now her son was gone too. Hua Zijun thought of her past and the future that awaited her, and couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Karma. This was pure karma.

When Tan Ling's murder case was concluded, her parents also faced backlash.

At the height of public outrage, they took to the spotlight, sobbing and begging for justice for their dead daughter, while constantly lamenting how hard their lives had been. After gaining traction, they naturally began cashing in on their tragedy by hawking products on livestreams.

Some called them out, while others made excuses, saying they were pitiful—what else could elderly people do to earn money? They had a school-aged child to support, so profiting off the situation was justifiable. "It's just sales—buying is your choice; no one’s forcing you," they argued.

Even if only one or two out of a hundred viewers pitied them enough to buy, they still profited. As the case settled, they hung their deceased daughter’s photo in their livestreams, eventually turning people’s stomachs as their exploitation became blatant.

If they’d stopped while they were ahead, their earnings from playing the victim could have sustained them comfortably for a while. But human nature is greedy—few can resist the allure of daily cash flow.

They ramped up their sales pitches, constantly milking their victimhood on camera until some viewers grew fed up and dug deeper. They uncovered two fully paid-off properties, a car, their son’s habit of buying new high-end phones yearly, every in-game skin unlocked, and dropping thousands on in-game purchases.

Further digging revealed that despite not working, Tan Ling’s parents lived lavishly—drinking, gambling, square dancing—while both maintained extramarital affairs. They stayed married but led separate lives.

The tide of public opinion flipped fast.

"If my retirement is half as comfortable as theirs, I’d wake up laughing. Calling them pitiful? Look at how miserable I am as a corporate drone!"

"Walking to work through knee-deep snow in a blizzard—am I not pitiful?"

"I agonize for a week over an $89 skin, while their kid drops $1,288 like it was nothing!"

"While I eat $18 vegetarian spicy noodles, they feast on lavish meals. My sympathy went straight to the dogs."

"The only victim here was the poor sister, not her family!"

The Tan family got hit hard by the backlash. Their livestreams were boycotted—their products weren’t the cheapest or from reputable brands, and they weren’t influential streamers. Despite keeping their channel open, their sales flatlined.

Brand contracts required minimum sales, and failure meant penalties. With no more sympathy to exploit, brands terminated deals and even sought compensation.

Tan Ling’s younger brother’s gaming accounts were exposed, leading to in-game harassment and real-life scorn for "feeding off his sister’s tragedy." A spoiled hothead, he lashed out, smashing someone’s head in a fight.

The injured party pressed charges, demanding extensive medical checks and compensation—clearly gaming the system. Provoked further by his parents’ scolding and threats of jail time, Tan Ling’s brother fought again in the hospital, damaging medical equipment.

Hospital gear isn’t cheap—ranging from tens of thousands to millions. Luckily, what he destroyed cost only around $15,000, wiping out their tragedy profits and draining their savings. The family became town outcasts, whispered about wherever they went.

In the fast-paced internet era, the Tan family faded from public memory once they left the spotlight. But Chen Xi kept watching.

Pushing fifty and writing off his eldest son, Tan Ling’s father demanded a divorce, splitting assets equally. Tan Ling’s mother, eager to escape local scorn and join her own lover, agreed.

One had a late-life child and naturally no longer valued the eldest son, while the other was swept off her feet by an outsider and believed her son was grown and wouldn’t rely on her forever. So she left him a bit of money and left with the man.

In the end, both were thoroughly scammed. The miracle child wasn’t Tan Ling’s father’s child, and Tan Ling’s mother lost both her savings and the man. The son they had abandoned became increasingly hardened by all that happened and ended up joining a gang, only to be trapped in a scam ring with no way out.

Seeing their fate, Chen Xi went to visit Tan Ling’s grave. There were many fresh flowers still untouched before her tombstone.

Chen Xi placed a bouquet of vibrant red begonias before the tombstone. Gazing at the young girl forever young at her loveliest, she suddenly smiled. "Lingling, it’s all behind us now. I’ll live well from now on. Next life, let’s be sisters again."

Everyone had reached their inevitable endings, and the hidden truth had finally come to light. She, too, should let go of the past.

Life went on—some rejoiced, some grieved. With the semester grades out, some could ring in the New Year cheerfully, while others would spend the entire holiday in unease.

After collecting his grades at school, Xiao Ye was heading straight to the airport. Originally, he hadn’t planned to join his grandfather on the winter getaway this year, but since his older brother was accompanying his sister-in-law back to her hometown, someone had to tag along with Grandpa. Xiao Ye had no choice but to go along.

He held Ji Nanxing’s hand, noticing it was a bit cold, and slipped it into his toasty pocket before pulling him into a tight hug, trying to let his life warmth (yang energy) linger on him a little longer.

"Message me every day. It’s just a quick hop—super fast. I’ll fly over every few days."

Ji Nanxing: "No need. Stay with your grandfather. No need to shuttle back and forth."

Xiao Ye: "I’ll be bored there anyway. Round trips aren’t a big deal. Before I even left, Jiang Tangtang and the others gave me a long shopping list. Do face creams need so many shades? But I promised, so I’ll do it. Mostly, I’m helping them with shopping, and I’ll drop by to top up your yang while I’m at it."

Ji Nanxing laughed. "Oh, so I’m just an afterthought?"

Xiao Ye grinned back. "No choice—I already promised them. But Ji Naonao gets special privileges."

Ji Nanxing: "What privileges?"

Xiao Ye: "@#￥%…"

Xiao Ye rattled off gibberish quickly before darting into the car. Rolling down the window, he waved at Ji Nanxing. "I’m off! Go back inside—it’s windy and cold out."

Ji Nanxing smiled and nodded. "Got it. Be safe on the road."

After watching Xiao Ye’s car drive away, Ji Nanxing went upstairs to pack. With the holidays here, it was time to go home.

In the elevator, watching the ascending numbers and his reflection in the mirror, Ji Nanxing touched the slight upturn of his lips and couldn’t help but smile again.

Even though Xiao Ye had spoken quickly and unclearly, he’d heard it clearly: *lifetime priority*.

Xiao Ye had made a schedule. He and his grandfather were going to Haicheng to escape the cold. Aside from a few old friends of his grandfather’s who lived there, there were no other relatives or friends to visit. So he could fly back every morning and return in the evening—the round trip just five hours total.

Unfortunately, tickets weren’t that easy to get. He couldn’t secure enough same-day round-trip flights, so he had to settle for flying back every two days. Just as he’d planned his return, his grandfather dragged him to be a groomsman at his old comrade’s grandson’s wedding—the original groomsman had canceled last minute, so Xiao Ye was the backup.

Unlike regular guests who could leave after the banquet, groomsmen had to stay for the wedding-night antics. According to local customs, the wedding banquet was held at noon, followed by a thank-you dinner in the evening. By the time everything wrapped up, the whole day was gone.

Lying in bed, Xiao Ye texted Ji Nanxing, sending him some wedding photos from the day. "Got roped into last-minute stand-in duty. I’ve already packed all the stuff I promised to buy for them."

Ji Nanxing: "Being part of someone else’s happiness is a beautiful thing. Coming back in a couple of days is fine too."

Reading the reply, Xiao Ye sighed and rolled over. How could it be the same? If he hadn’t been pulled into the wedding, he could’ve seen the person he missed today. They’d been apart for three days—his yang must’ve faded by now. With the temperature so low, would Ji Naonao feel cold?

After asking Ji Nanxing about his day and sharing his own updates, they chatted until past eleven—Ji Naonao’s usual bedtime. Xiao Ye wanted to keep talking but didn’t want to delay his sleep, so they bid each other goodnight.

Unable to sleep, Xiao Ye reread their chat history several times before habitually checking flight tickets. Refreshing the page, he spotted a late-night flight. Without thinking, he booked it immediately—a 4 a.m. departure, arriving around 6 a.m. By the time he got to Naonao’s place, it’d be 7 a.m., just in time for breakfast together!

Xiao Ye jumped out of bed, showered, styled his hair, and picked out an outfit.

After sprucing himself up and making sure he smelled nice, he quietly opened the door—Grandpa was already asleep, the house silent. Carrying his backpack, he sneaked out like a thief and headed straight for the airport.

Ji Nanxing kept pretty regular hours, and even when sleeping in, he wouldn’t stay in bed too late. By around 8 a.m., he had finished washing up and was about to call for breakfast when the steward told him that Xiao Ye had arrived and had been waiting for him to wake up for quite some time.

Ji Nanxing was surprised: “When did he get here?”

The steward replied with a smile, “He arrived shortly after seven and even brought quite a few local specialties from Haicheng. Should I have him wait in the living room, or should I ask Young Master Xiao Ye to come to your room?”

Ji Nanxing: “Have him come here.”

Originally brisk footsteps slowed as they approached his door, then paused outside without a sound.

Ji Nanxing looked up to see Xiao Ye peeking from the doorway, half his head visible as he secretly watched him.

Ji Nanxing chuckled. “Why aren’t you coming in?”

Xiao Ye bounced in excitedly and immediately pulled Ji Nanxing into a hug. “I thought you might be mad that I showed up unannounced. I lucked out getting a last-minute ticket, and I figured you were already asleep, so I didn’t message you.”

Ji Nanxing: “When are you leaving?”

Xiao Ye’s eyes widened instantly. “You’re kicking me out already?!”

Ji Nanxing: “Your grandfather is alone over there. During the day is fine, but at night, it’s better to have someone with him just to be safe, especially at his age.”

Xiao Ye pouted but fessed up, “I have a flight in the afternoon, so I can get two meals in with you before I go.”

Ji Nanxing: “You pulled an all-nighter flying here just to have two meals with me?”

Xiao Ye grabbed Ji Nanxing’s hand to warm it. “And to replenish your yang energy while keeping you warm.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his grin froze—because Ji Nanxing’s palm was warm, not cold at all.

Before, since they had always been together, with Xiao Ye always feeding him yang energy, he hadn’t thought much of it when Ji Nanxing’s hands occasionally felt warm. But this time, they had been apart for nearly four days. Based on past experience, that yang energy should have long since dissipated.