Meng Yaoxian once loved three male cultivators.
The first was a sword cultivator.
The sword cultivator had made a name for himself at a young age, full of confidence and vitality. He drove his sword through a demon beast's throat, and its blood spattered across the hem of his white robe, blooming like red plum blossoms on snow.
Meng Yaoxian asked him, "Fellow Daoist, would you like to be friends?"
The sword cultivator stared at her in surprise. Only after a long moment did his ears turn red as he quietly replied, "All right."
She traveled the world's mountains and rivers with him. He carved a red plum hairpin and secretly tucked it into her hair. She smiled, then lifted her head and kissed the corner of his lips.
When their mission ended, they returned to their respective sects to report back. Before parting, they promised to go see the plum blossoms on the Myriad Snow Mountains.
But Meng Yaoxian waited before the Myriad Mountains for seven days and seven nights, and the sword cultivator never appeared.
.
The second was a rogue cultivator.
At the time, Meng Yaoxian was renowned, one of the most outstanding cultivators of her generation. The rogue cultivator, by contrast, was utterly unknown.
The rogue cultivator lay slumped over a green stone beside a stream. Blood ran down his snow-white skin and spread through the clear water.
He had a handsome face, and Meng Yaoxian fell for him at once.
She stroked his face. "I'll save you, and you'll come with me."
The rogue cultivator was probably delirious with fever.
He kissed her fingertips haphazardly and answered hoarsely, "All right."
The rogue cultivator never sought her out or tried to get close to her. He only watched her quietly.
Perhaps he had someone he loved.
Perhaps he left without a word one day for that person's sake.
.
The third was a demon cultivator.
At the time, Meng Yaoxian didn't know he was a demon cultivator.
The demon cultivator was quiet and cold, as if nothing mattered to him.
Only on that night, beneath a lonely moon and a starless sky, did he hold her tightly, abandon all reason, and beg in a low voice, "Don't forget me."
But when they met again, he was a demon condemned by the world, while she was a righteous cultivator with a bright future. They gazed at each other from afar, but Meng Yaoxian had already forgotten him.
She said, "Surrender, and I'll leave your corpse intact."
The demon cultivator gazed at her and suddenly let out a bitter laugh.
He dropped his sword, his voice as gentle as ever. "All right."
"But Meng Yaoxian," Pei Chaoyue said sadly, "how could you forget me three times?"
Theme: Silent love is precious, too
