Are you really trying to cultivate immortality? Something feels off.

Tan Suiting's lips were tightly pressed together, and all the unease that had been building up for so long surged up, carrying the stubbornness of a young man who was both obstinate and fragile: "Otherwise what? People will all part ways. When you grow up, you will have new friends. If you find a Daoist partner, there will be no place for me. You will also have a new family and a new home. Sooner or later you will get tired of the Fenghua Sect, tired of spending every day with your fellow disciples, and then you will abandon the old days and abandon—"

Tan Suiting took a deep breath, and uttered a single word with a trembling voice: "...Me."

Xie Weixing sighed softly.

He knew that dragons were loyal, but he didn't know that they were so stubborn about their feelings, that they would even take a casual promise or a child's innocent vow as gospel.

That's far too extreme.

However, it's still because the cultivation world lacks psychological counseling. A group of genius teenagers, who have been arrogant since childhood and achieved fame at a young age, naturally have some mental issues.

The two Nie sisters are a typical example.

The problem with Xiaolongdian's education of Feng Jilan and Feng Yu is undeniable.

Xie Weixing stroked his slightly cool, trembling knuckles with his fingertips, took a deep breath, and prepared to give this young dragon some mental guidance: "Dragon Lord, you are you, fellow disciples are fellow disciples, and partners are partners."

Seeing that he still dared to say anything about being a partner or something, deliberately trying to provoke her, Tan Suiting quickly withdrew her hand, turned her head away, and choked out, "I hate you."

He couldn't even bring himself to say, "I hate you."

Xie Weixing looked at his empty fingertips, sighed, and continued, "Even if I have a Daoist partner, you will still be my junior brother, my fellow disciple, and my close friend..."

Tan Suiting didn't want to hear this. He subconsciously rejected the Daoist partner that Xie Weixing had mentioned, who hadn't even appeared yet. His voice rose slightly: "I hate you—"

Xie Weixing was at his wit's end. He forced himself to finish speaking and tried to take his hand: "Fenghua Sect will always be my home, and you are someone I will always entrust my back to. This is not a matter of having to choose between two equally desirable things."

Tan Suiting shook off his hand, a thin layer of red showing on the tip of his nose, not from embarrassment, but from a sore and stuffy feeling in his throat.

"I hate you!" he shouted, his voice growing faster and louder. "I hate you! I hate you!"

He wanted to drown out Xie Weixing's voice, as if if he drowned it out and no one heard it, he could pretend that Xie Weixing hadn't said anything.

Seeing that he wouldn't listen to him, Xie Weixing's amber eyes darkened, unusually serious: "If you insist on getting yourself into a dead end, you'll only suffer more and more."

Tan Suiting shoved him away, her eyes red-rimmed, and said fiercely, "Then leave! Leave now! I don't want you!"

"Tan Suiting!" Xie Weixing snapped, grabbing his hand tightly. She couldn't understand where this dragon got all these bad habits from, and for the first time called him by his full name. "Unreasonable! Who spoiled you?"

The person who had just raised his hand to shove him froze upon hearing the sound, his body suddenly standing still.

Tan Suiting's trembling fingertips suddenly curled up, and he pulled them back to clench his sleeve, his knuckles turning bluish-white.

Xie Weixing stood there stunned. The peach blossom eyes that had just been filled with a bit of fierceness went blank in an instant, all the sharpness in them disappeared, replaced by a sense of helplessness and unease.

He regretted it as soon as he said it.

His once relaxed jawline tightened slightly, and the corners of his lips unconsciously pressed down, completely erasing his previously nonchalant demeanor.

Her fingertips curled unconsciously, and her hand, which was hanging by her side, was raised halfway before hesitatingly falling back down.

dilemma.

Oh no, he has to go to a counseling class too.

Tan Suiting's long, narrow eyelashes drooped down, their delicate lashes trembling slightly.

He wouldn't even look at Xie Weixing's angry expression.

This senior brother is too unfamiliar and too heartbreaking.

He pursed his lips tightly, his lower lip slightly pulled inward. Although he was filled with grievances, he didn't want to show weakness and refused to make a sound.

The dragon's innate arrogance was suppressed by his grievance. His back remained ramrod straight, but his shoulders unconsciously slumped slightly. The scattered lightning around his body withered and disappeared into his meridians, and even the chill around him faded.

"Dragon Palace," Xie Weixing pursed his lips and spoke, "me."

Am I wrong? Am I at fault? Should I not have sought a Daoist partner?

But why?

That's just his nature; he won't be bound by anyone, nor will he willingly lose his freedom, not even if that person is his closest and dearest fellow disciple.

His throat tightened slightly; no matter how eloquent and persuasive he had been in the past, he couldn't utter a single word at this moment.

Tan Suiting gently bit her lip, a faint smell of blood slowly spreading between her teeth.

She was just afraid he would leave, and she just wanted her senior brother to keep his promise, but in the end she was accused of being unreasonable.

The reprimand, complete with full names, felt like a fine needle gently pricking my heart, a bitter taste rising in layers, and tears welling up in my eyes.

He stubbornly held back the tears welling in his eyes, refusing to let a single drop fall. He stood frozen in place, looking helpless after being scolded, yet full of grievances and unwilling to back down.

After a long pause, he finally managed to squeeze out a very soft, slightly hoarse whisper, his voice extremely low: "...you."

Xie Weixing froze, staring at the person in front of him, a tingling sensation rising in his throat.

You're so unreasonable, who spoiled you like that?

Tan Suiting answered truthfully. You.

*

Nie Zhao's illusion was frozen in the Nie Mansion in Nanchuan.

"Sister, why do you always speak ill of Father?" Nie Shiyun's cheeks were soft, her eyes filled with resentment. "Do you, like everyone else, look down on Father and think he's just a tool Mother found to give birth to us?"

Nie Zhao's throat suddenly went dry, and he subconsciously frowned.

"I wanted to cultivate, so Father found me the best teacher. I wanted to eat honey cake, so Father cooked it for me himself. When I was sick, Father stayed by my side night after night," Nie Shiyun looked at her, her eyes full of disappointment. "All of this was done by Father, not by you, sister, or Mother. Just because Father's cultivation is not as high as Mother's, does that mean he is not qualified to be our father? I don't accept this twisted logic!"

The scene of confronting and arguing with his younger sister when he was young was replayed.

Nie Zhao swallowed the bitterness in her throat, her dry lips parted slightly, and even though she knew this was an illusion, she slowly spoke after a long while, her voice hoarse: "Ayun, I'm doing this for your own good, I..."

Before the words were finished, the illusion reversed, and the scene before them vanished, replaced by the old and solemn sandalwood scent of the Nie Family Ancestral Hall in Nanchuan.

The beams and pillars are carved with simple and solemn patterns, and the memorial tablets stand in layers. The flickering candlelight casts a mottled light and shadow on the spacious and solemn hall.

The cold, bone-chilling blue stone floor beneath his knees caught Nie Zhao off guard, causing him to kneel heavily on the spot.

A familiar chill crept up her knees, instantly pulling her back to those most stubborn and embarrassing years.