Chapter 281: The Sky Palace (2)
Ningyan’s head hurt.
It was not a dull ache, but a deep, vicious pain that seemed to split his skull apart from within.
He wanted to scream, yet even drawing breath felt like pulling glass into his lungs. His muscles locked tightly beneath his robes, his fingers curling helplessly against the sheets.
A cool hand settled softly against his forehead.
The touch was strangely soothing. The blinding pain receded by degrees, his rigid body slowly relaxing as an invisible, comforting force pressed the internal turmoil back into silence.
His consciousness sank once more into darkness.
When he awoke again, the first thing Ningyan saw was the warm glow of lanterns.
They hung from the carved wooden beams of an unfamiliar chamber, their golden light spilling softly across polished floors and delicate furnishings.
The room was quiet.... unnaturally so.
The faint fragrance of flowers lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle, grounding scent of sandalwood.
Ningyan stared at the ceiling for several breaths.
Where was he?
He recalled Wuhen knocking him unconscious.
His eyes narrowed.
He still hadn’t decided whether he was more furious or deeply betrayed by his actions.
He shifted beneath the covers, intending to turn over and sleep a little longer, but as he slowly turned his head, he froze.
A man lay peacefully on the other side of the wide bed.
Long, ink-black hair spilled across the pillow, several loose strands resting against an exquisitely handsome face.
His features were refined yet striking, long eyelashes casting faint shadows over his sharp cheekbones. His inner robes were slightly loose, revealing the elegant line of his collarbone.
Ningyan stared.
Lan Meishan.
His mind went completely blank. He closed his eyes tightly.
This is a dream. Perhaps a weird, corruption-induced hallucination.
He opened them again. Lan Meishan was still there.
Ningyan blinked. He reached down beneath the blanket and pinched his own arm hard.
It hurt.
His eyes widened in shock. He immediately sat upright, dragging his knees toward his chest as he stared at the sleeping serpent beast beside him.
What on earth was happening? Why was he in the same bed as Lan Meishan?
His gaze dropped to his own chest, and his heart skipped a beat. Someone had changed his robes. The loose, silk garment barely clung to his shoulders, the fabric impossibly soft against his skin.
Ningyan’s face drained of color. Had Lan Meishan changed his clothes?
Slipping from the bed as silently as possible, Ningyan’s bare feet touched the cool wooden floor. He began retreating toward the chamber door, his eyes locked on the sleeping form in the bed.
Lan Meishan didn’t move.
Ningyan exhaled a quiet breath of relief. He reached the heavy door, eased it open, and slipped outside.
The corridor beyond was dim, cool, and peaceful. Ningyan walked farther down the hall, his unease growing with every step, until he finally reached a wide, open balcony. He stepped out and his breath caught in his throat.
A vast, mirror-like lake stretched before him beneath a clear, star-filled sky. A silver crescent moon hung high above the water, its pale reflection trembling gently upon the dark surface.
Lush cherry blossom trees surrounded the entire courtyard, their branches heavy with soft pink flowers.
Petals drifted lazily through the night breeze, some landing upon the water while others scattered across the vibrant green grass.
There was no snow... No biting, icy winds.
Ningyan’s lips parted in disbelief.
Above him, luminous ribbons of auroral light slowly unfurled across the night sky, green and violet hues flowing like celestial silk through the vast darkness.
For a moment, Ningyan genuinely wondered if he was dead. Perhaps Yan Wuhen had not merely knocked him unconscious; perhaps he had killed him.
After all, he had awakened with Lan Meishan lying beside him, and now he was standing in a literal paradise.
Could this be the afterlife?
"A-Yan?" A deep, slightly hoarse voice came from behind him.
Ningyan stiffened and turned around.
Lan Meishan stood several steps away, his long, dark hair falling loosely over his shoulders.
Sleep still lingered in his handsome features, and he rubbed his left eye with the back of his hand, looking as though he had only just awakened.
Ningyan stared. Then, without thinking, he asked, "Am I dead?"
Meishan froze, the drowsiness vanishing instantly from his face. "No."
He crossed the distance between them in a single stride, both hands coming up to cup Ningyan’s face. His palms were cool... soothingly, achingly familiar against Ningyan’s skin.
Ningyan’s breath caught at the sensation. That touch.
Meishan stared down at him as though Ningyan had just returned from the brink of death itself.
"No," he repeated, his voice dropping into a softer tone. "You are not dead."
Ningyan blinked. "So this is real?"
A faint, bittersweet smile touched Meishan’s lips. "It is real."
Something in that quiet answer loosened a tight knot inside Ningyan’s chest. His heartbeat stumbled strangely, fluttering against his ribs. He looked away first, unable to hold Meishan’s overwhelming emerald gaze.
"Where are we?"
Meishan’s hands slowly fell from his face, though his gaze never strayed. "We are in the Sky Palace, the highest sanctuary in the Heavenly Realm."
Ningyan looked around the glowing courtyard again, bewildered. "What?"
"Haoxuan suggested that we not remain within the main palace itself," Meishan explained, looking out toward the shimmering water. "This private manor sits beside the Spiritual Lake. It is quieter here."
Ningyan’s expression changed in an instant. "Haoxuan?" His voice sharpened. "You mean Jun Haoxuan?"
Meishan watched the sudden, icy guardedness settle back over his husband’s features. "Yes."
Ningyan took half a step back, his defensive instincts active. "He’s here?"
"He is."
Ningyan’s fingers curled into tight fists inside his wide sleeves. Of all the things he had expected after being forcibly knocked unconscious by Yan Wuhen, waking up beside Lan Meishan in the Heavenly Realm had not been on the list.
But Jun Haoxuan being here? That was another matter entirely.
"Why?" Ningyan demanded, his tone guarded.
Meishan was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Ningyan with such profound, unwavering tenderness that it made Ningyan’s chest ache.
"A-yan," Meishan said softly.
Ningyan’s eyes flickered with confusion and doubt.
"Wuhen, Rong Yue, Haoxuan..." Meishan paused, stepping closer until he was standing directly before him. "...and I. We are all here to help you recover your memories. We are here to bring you back to us."