The Divine One Is Too Charming

The hopeless-at-writing-a-blurb version:

(I)

She sat by the table and gulped down several cups of tea. Just as she was pouring the last cup, a long, slender hand reached out first and picked it up. "You've had so much. Are you planning to go out and refill it yourself later?"

Yan Yan looked up and smiled calmly. "I thought A Mo probably wouldn't like this kind of tea, since it wasn't freshly brewed."

"I don't mind," Yi Mo said with a smile, then drained the cup in one go.

Yan Yan found the sight a little awkward. All right, it wasn't the first time Yi Mo had drunk from her cup. It really wasn't a big deal.

"Are you still not going to wash up? That person seems to expect us to take a lovers' bath together, and doesn't look like they're going to change the water. You'll have to use magic to change it yourself," someone said, still looking utterly composed.

(II)

But she didn't think any of that was the point. The point was that his arm was around her waist, his breath brushed the top of her head, and his dark hair fell against her neck... The warm, ticklish sensation was driving her crazy... She wanted to pull her clothes closed, but realized her arms were around his neck... Even though nothing had happened.

She had no idea how long it had been. Just as Yan Yan thought she was getting used to this, the other person suddenly gave a soft hum.

Then the man opened his bleary eyes, saw the person in his arms, closed his eyes again, and rested his head on the woman's shoulder.

...Well, now that he was awake, it would look terribly unladylike to keep doing this. So she summoned her courage and pushed him. He didn't budge... She pushed again. All right, she hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

(III)

Yan Yan: "Don't you like Yue Wan?"

Yi Mo: "I only like you."

Yan Yan: "Then why are you so nice to her?"

Yi Mo: "I thought you didn't like me that much."

Yan Yan: "So I misunderstood you for a hundred thousand years? Son of a... Lord, you're such a tease!"

He smiled. "It's fine. You like this sort of thing."

Literary version:

Yan Yan often dreamed of a white-robed god with dark hair climbing the steps beneath the stars. Fireflies danced around him, like stars over Shichahai. Mist spread behind him, carrying the crisp fragrance of trees and grass, and a fallen leaf came to rest on his shoulder. He climbed the steps with such focus, as if the mortal world lay behind him and home awaited ahead. Sensing someone's gaze, the man lifted his head and looked up with a smile. The scene became like a painting in ink. What day is this, that I should meet such a fine man?

And that person...

When Yan Yan was the mortal Lu Yan, she and Lu Zheng circled around one another, missing their chance by a hair. In the end, she could only die by the Qinhuai River.

A love trial from one lifetime left a mark deep in her heart, but the tangled affair had begun a hundred thousand years earlier. Yan Yan spent thousands of years by his side and a hundred thousand years waiting for him. Through winters that turned her hair white beneath Kunlun's snows, and years living among the phoenix trees, she finally got only this: when he awoke, he still remembered the love and hate of long ago.

She never entered the world of romance or attracted peach blossoms. She was simply born for him, and wanted to die by his side, too. Either she would leave her body among the mountains and be buried in green hills and clear waters, or she would spend her whole life holding his hand, engraving him between her brows and in her heart.

Perhaps then, she could call out "Yi Mo" in the lingering, tender tone she had long wanted to use.