For the first time, I genuinely enjoyed having dinner with Ruan Yanjun. His demeanor tonight was entirely different—measured, respectful, and free from his usual teasing or inappropriate remarks. He spoke with the ease of a seasoned statesman, offering insight without veiled jabs or playful barbs. For once, it felt like we were equals in conversation, not adversaries locked in a game of manipulation.
It made me wonder. If things could always remain this way, could we truly get along? Could I, perhaps, even support his cause?
The thought unsettled me, but I couldn't dismiss it entirely. Tonight had revealed a side of Ruan Yanjun that was often obscured by his reputation—the cunning and dark-hearted demon feared across the cultivation world. He wasn't the devil the stories painted him to be. Yes, he bore the demonic core, and yes, he walked the path of dark cultivation, but his intelligence and foresight made him something more complex than a simple villain.
Unlike the violent stereotypes of dark cultivators, Ruan Yanjun understood the necessity of coexistence. He didn't kill indiscriminately. He was acutely aware of the consequences of such actions. Mass slaughter, as much as it might cement his infamy, would eventually turn against him. Fear could unify even the weakest under a shared goal of survival. They'd rise against him, or worse for someone like him, they'd flee. What use would he have for power if there were no people left to command?
Ruan Yanjun thrived on balance. He protected the people he ruled to bask in their glorification and ensured his power remained unchallenged by displaying his might just enough to instill fear. Glorification fed his ego, and fear solidified his control. He wielded both as tools, like a master tactician playing a game of strategy.
I had heard the whispers of commoners in Xianru and Wun praising his name. Despite his arrogance and the rumors of his cruelty, Ruan Yanjun had never taken anything from the poor. He saw them as insignificant, beneath his notice, their meager possessions unworthy of his attention. While wealthy landowners oppressed the common folk—stealing their lands, seizing their livelihoods, and sometimes even their lives—Ruan Yanjun's indifference had unintentionally become a shield for them.
And yet, his indifference wasn't entirely benign. It wasn't kindness or mercy that stayed his hand but practicality. Killing without gain was a waste of effort, and for Ruan Yanjun, every action needed to serve a purpose. He didn't spill blood unless it benefited him.
The proof of his calculated leadership was evident in the progress of Xianru and Wun, the two empires under his influence. Compared to other regions, they had fewer homeless, fewer beggars lining the streets. Stability reigned because his sect maintained peace with an iron grip, crushing any signs of rebellion before they could take root.
The contrast to places like Silang and Kan was stark. I had wandered through Silang and seen the despair in the eyes of the homeless gathered outside the city gates, begging for entry. In Kan, Emperor Sun's brilliance had brought prosperity, but the constant uprisings and discontent threatened to undo his legacy.
And then there was Crown Prince Jiayi, Emperor Sun's successor. Compared to his father, Jiayi was incompetent at best. He lacked the vision, the intelligence, and the strength to rule. If Kan were to fall into his hands, chaos would surely follow.
As much as it pained me to admit, the thought of Kan under Ruan Yanjun's control seemed preferable to the alternative. At least under him, there would be order, progress, and stability, even if his methods were dark.
From that moment, my perception of Ruan Yanjun began to shift. The man sitting across from me was more than just a demon or a dark cultivator. He was a ruler—a flawed, dangerous, and calculating one—but a ruler nonetheless.
*****
When we returned to the inn, Ruan Yanjun accompanied me to my room. The air between us was quieter now, as if the weight of unspoken words filled the space. After closing the door behind us, he leaned casually against the frame, his piercing gaze softened by something I couldn't quite place.
"I have news," he said finally, his voice steady but laced with a hint of something more—reluctance, perhaps?
I raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"I've found someone who might be able to help you," he continued. "A physician who specializes in conditions like yours. He lives in the capital, and I've arranged for you to meet him."
Hope flickered in my chest, but it was tempered by the undertone in his words.
"You won't be coming with me, will you?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
His expression didn't falter, but his eyes darkened slightly. "No. There are pressing matters I need to attend to. I've already delayed too long." He exhaled, almost imperceptibly, and then added, "The journey will take a week, and depending on how the examinations go, you might need to stay there for months."
The thought of parting settled heavily in my stomach. A week's journey, months apart… After all the time we had spent together, the idea felt strangely hollow.
"But the coachman will take you there safely," he continued. "And I'll ensure the physician receives everything he needs to help you."
I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. It wasn't fair to feel this way. Ruan Yanjun had already spent so much of his time on me, despite his responsibilities. I couldn't ask for more.
He must have sensed the hesitation in my silence because his lips curved into a faint smile. "You understand, don't you?"
"Yes," I murmured. "I do."
He stepped closer, and for a moment, I felt the tension in the room shift. His hand lifted, and before I could react, he tapped my cheek gently, his touch light but lingering.
"Good," he said softly. "Now go to bed. I'll give you your medicine."
I hesitated, unsure why I felt compelled to ask, "Are you staying here tonight?"
His smile widened, a touch of mischief glinting in his eyes. "I have to look after you."
"I'm fine," I protested. "You don't have to worry."
"It's our last night together," he said, his tone almost playful, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words. "Are you sure you want to send me away so easily?"
Heat rose to my cheeks. He had a way of saying things that sounded both casual and intimate at the same time, throwing me off balance. "You make it sound... strange," I muttered, looking anywhere but at him.
"Strange?" He chuckled, his voice low and warm. "You wound me, A-Fan."
Despite myself, I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. He always knew how to disarm me, even when I was determined not to let him.
"It's true, though," he added, his voice quieter now. "Tomorrow, we'll part ways. Who knows how long it will be before we see each other again?"
That hint of sadness in his tone caught me off guard. Ruan Yanjun was always so composed, so in control. Hearing this small crack in his armor made my chest tighten.
"As long as you behave," I said, keeping my tone light despite the unease I felt, "I don't mind sharing the room."
He smirked, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. "As long as you don't tempt me with your beauty, I'll have no reason to misbehave."
Heat rose to my face, but something about his tone caught my attention. Though he was teasing, as he always did, there was a faint sadness laced within his words.
"Since when have I tempted you?" I asked cautiously.
His smile wavered, forced and fragile. "All the time, A-Fan," he said softly.