Transmigration:The Villain Wants A Happy End Without His BeastHusbands

Ningyan....

Lan Meishan repeated the name endlessly within his mind.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Yet outwardly, he remained perfectly composed, seated beneath the swaying lantern light with the same impassive expression he had worn for centuries.

Only he knew that his heart was screaming.

Ningyan did not remember him. Not a single trace. Not a single fragment. And worse, the beast sitting before him was drowning in wickedness.

The demonic aura leaking from Ningyan’s body felt almost alive, slithering around him like an invisible beast. There was no guilt within him. No remorse. No hesitation.

Exactly as Ningyan himself had admitted.

Yet it was still him.

The way he smiled.

The way those violet eyes brightened whenever something interested him.

The way he let his long white hair fall freely without bothering to tie it back.

Even the way he ate had not changed.

Everything familiar remained.

Only everything important seemed lost.

Meishan had countless questions. Questions that clawed relentlessly at his chest.

Where had Ningyan been for the last three hundred years?

What had happened to him?

Why had he become a demon beast?

Why could he no longer remember the people who loved him?

And why... Why was he now standing at the beast king of the Phoenix Clan when he had once insisted he never wished to rule anyone?

Lan Meishan could fill some of the gaps himself.

The clues were already there.

But he did not want to. Not now.

Not when Ningyan was finally sitting before him again after three hundred unbearable years.

Ningyan had grown taller.

His beauty had sharpened into something breathtaking.

His features had matured, his confidence strengthened, his presence ominous.

Meishan wanted to reach across the table. He wanted to pull him into his arms. He... Wanted to tell him everything.

I am your husband.

We searched for you. We waited for you. We mourned you.

I never stopped loving you.

But none of those words could leave his mouth.

"Is it too painful to talk about?" Ningyan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Meishan blinked.

Across the table, Ningyan was looking at him with a faint pout, clearly noticing how far he had drifted into his own mind.

The question caught him completely off guard.

Because for once, Ningyan had unknowingly asked the truth.

Was it painful?

It was unbearable.

Meishan lowered his gaze. "Yes."

Ningyan sighed. "How sad."

His voice carried no sadness whatsoever.

In fact, he looked thoroughly uninterested in the deceased husband they were discussing.

Meishan almost smiled. Because the husband in question was Ningyan himself.

And Ningyan had absolutely no idea.

"You really should move on," Ningyan continued earnestly. "He is dead."

The words struck Meishan like a blade.

"You cannot spend your entire life mourning him." Ningyan lifted his teacup. "I am sure he is happy wherever he is in the afterlife."

Lan Meishan’s chest felt unbearably heavy.

Then he met Ningyan’s gaze and answered quietly,"I hope he is happy too."

Ningyan violet eyes widened.

Then, for some reason, he frowned.

The expression lasted only a moment before he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should not talk about him anymore."

Meishan nearly laughed.

Ningyan looked genuinely uncomfortable now. As though discussing this mysterious dead husband had become a nuisance.

"Let the dead rest." Ningyan waved a hand dismissively. "Let us talk about something more interesting. Like the present."

There was not even the slightest attempt to pretend he cared.

And somehow, that made Meishan’s heart ache even more.

"The present?" He found himself genuinely curious.

What did Ningyan desire now?

Ningyan rested his chin against his hand. "I left the clan for a while."

The lantern light danced across his violet eyes. "I may be their king, but it can be suffocating."

A faint sigh escaped him. "I will return soon, however."

His expression brightened slightly. "I want to build an academy."

Lan Meishan froze. "An academy?"

Ningyan nodded. "Yes."

For the first time that evening, excitement appeared openly on his face.

"I want the children to learn more than cultivation and warfare." His fingers lightly tapped against the table. "They should be protected. Guided."

His gaze drifted somewhere distant. "They should be allowed to become whoever they wish to become."

A small smile touched his lips. "I want to help them do that."

Lan Meishan’s heart clenched painfully.

There it was.

The Ningyan he remembered.

He was still there. Still alive beneath everything else.

Ningyan had always had a soft spot for children.

Always.

Even after three hundred years. Even after becoming a demon beast.

Even after forgetting everyone he loved.

That part remained unchanged.

Yet.... Earlier, he had looked directly at Su Miao and failed to recognize him.

The thought hurt more than Meishan wished to admit.

"That sounds... good." His voice came out quieter than intended. "Is that your present?"

Ningyan considered the question and shook his head. "No."

A faint smile appeared. "That is my future."

He paused. "At least part of it."

Then suddenly, he leaned forward.

Lan Meishan’s breath caught.

Because he recognized that look immediately.

After all these centuries. After all this time.

He still recognized it. That particular expression.

The one Ningyan always wore whenever he wanted him.

The interest in those violet eyes was impossible to mistake. And Lan Meishan immediately felt heat creep up his ears.

His heart began beating far too quickly.

For one reckless moment, hope surged inside him.

Could Ningyan still remember?

Could some fragment of those feelings remain?

No.

That made no sense.

Three hundred years had passed.

Ningyan had lived an entire existence without them.

The realization made jealousy flare unexpectedly within him.

Lan Meishan hated it.

Yet he could not stop it.

Back when news of the Phoenix Beast King had first spread across the realms, he had refused to believe it.

A demon beast. A conqueror. A butcher.

None of it sounded like Ningyan.

So he had investigated personally.

He had infiltrated the restored Phoenix Clan.

And there, he had seen him.

At first, he thought grief had finally driven him mad. He thought he was hallucinating.

But now?

Now Ningyan sat directly across from him.

He was alive. Breathing. He was..... Real.

A miracle Meishan had hoped for.

"Perhaps," Ningyan said casually, "we could meet again after tonight."

His tone was deliberately innocent. Almost careful. As though he were attempting subtlety for the very first time in his life.

It would have been convincing if Meishan had not known him so well.

Lan Meishan’s chest tightened.

There were countless questions he wanted answers to. Questions only Ningyan could answer.

But another part of him was afraid. Afraid of pushing too hard. Afraid of provoking the unstable demonic power lurking beneath Ningyan’s skin.

He was afraid of losing him again.

He could not survive that a second time.

"Perhaps." The answer left his lips before he could stop it.

Immediately, disappointment flashed across Ningyan’s face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

But Meishan saw it.

"You are uncertain." Ningyan’s smile faded.

The atmosphere shifted subtly. Dangerously.

"Is it because of who I am?" The question sounded calm.

But Meishan felt the hostility hidden beneath it.

The suppressed rage. The fear. As though Ningyan had already asked this question many times before.

And had never once liked the answer.