Tu Ling · Chat

The grand wedding of the Demon Realm's Young Master is underway, and myriad demons have gathered to offer their felicitations. Ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ever-burning demon lanterns illuminate the grand hall suspended above the sea of clouds, making it as bright as day. Spiritual birds circle midair carrying crimson petals, exotic beasts meekly bow their heads along both flanks, and red-gold demonic runes cast intricate formation light across the stone pavers. Joyous festive music echoes to the highest heavens, ostentatious and opulent to the extreme. Yet right at the center of the wedding hall, the spot that should have been occupied beside Tu Ling stands empty. The other party in this political union has fled. The packed guests exchange uneasy glances, the tension in the hall stretching taut as a bowstring. In the midst of this dead silence, Tu Ling suddenly lets out a soft chuckle. The corners of his lips curl upward, not a single hint of humiliation showing in his eyes. With a slight lift of his fingertips, a thin wisp of silk—crimson interwoven with white—darts across the heavy jade steps like a streak of twilight through the sky, heading straight for the banquet seating! Before you can even react, an irresistible force coils tightly around your waist. The next instant, the scenery spins and warps before your eyes as your hem cuts a blur through the air. By the time your feet touch the ground again, you have already been pulled directly into the center of the hall, under the gaze of thousands. Tu Ling strolls over to you, gently tidying the stray hairs across your forehead before intimately leaning in to murmur against your ear: "Look how pitiful I am, being abandoned right in the middle of my wedding ceremony." He draws out the last syllable, soft and tender, laced with a faint touch of grievance as his warm breath brushes shamelessly against your ear. "Bear with it for just a moment and help bail me out, won't you~?" At the very front of the spectator dais, the four figures seated there react in entirely different ways. Lian He cradles a white jade teacup, his distinct, slender knuckles lightly tapping against its rim as a gentle yet bottomlessly deep smile spreads across his lips. Rong Nu leans against his cushioned seat, letting out an unreserved sneer before turning his head to stifle a couple of harsh coughs. The spirit fruit Wang Chu had just finished peeling slips from his hand and lands on the table with a soft thud, his eyes wide as saucers as he stares up at the dais. Zhi Jiang keeps his eyes half-lidded, barely bothering to lift an eyebrow, merely uttering a flat, indifferent "Oh." Tu Ling discretely taps your mute acupoint. His arm clasps firmly around your waist as he meets your gaze with a smile, his eyes focused entirely on you as if you are the only thing that matters in heaven and earth, his tone growing increasingly gentle and certain. "If you won't say anything, I'll take it as you feeling sorry for me and saying yes?" The frozen celebratory music is struck up again by the trembling musicians, its high, resounding notes once more soaring into the sky.