After arriving at the Immortal Palace, the Immortal Lord prepared a new room for him. This room lay deep within the main hall, no longer the guest chamber he had temporarily stayed in before, but just across a long corridor from the Immortal Lord’s private quarters.
When the Immortal Lord pushed open the door, Caesar froze. The room was so spacious it could nearly hold an entire small hall. At its center lay a delicately carved jade bed, adorned with silk bedding in golden-red hues that shimmered like flowing clouds at sunset. Hanging from the ceiling were numerous merfolk pearls, their warm glow twinkling like stars in the night sky. The floor was covered with a deep-red beast-hide carpet.
The Immortal Lord spoke softly, “That is the hide of a Flame-Patterned Beast. Warm in winter, cool in summer—neither cold nor heat shall trouble you.”
Caesar lowered his gaze and lightly touched the carpet, surprise flashing in his eyes. Such precious materials… laid beneath his feet. His vision roamed the room, from the jade lamps to the furniture, each piece invaluable, the likes of which he had never seen. And yet, the Immortal Lord was willing to entrust them to him.
The room’s golden-red tones bathed in flowing light, elegant without being overwhelming, like the sun settling upon clouds. The Immortal Lord gestured toward the inner section: “There is the study, and behind it, the bathing chamber. This room has a self-cleansing formation—no need for cleaning.”
Caesar quietly surveyed the space, a warmth rising in his chest. His eyes shone like they held a universe within, and uncontainable joy flickered there. The Immortal Lord glanced at him, voice calm as ever: “If there is anything else you need, tell me.”
Caesar paused, lifting his gaze to the Immortal Lord. This care—devoid of any visible emotion—stirred his heart more than any words he had ever heard in the tribe. He wanted to say, “It’s already perfect.” For the first time, he truly felt allowed to stay here.
After the Immortal Lord departed and the doors slowly closed, the room returned to silence.
Caesar pressed a hand to his chest, his heartbeat still rapid. After a moment, unable to contain his excitement, he began to wander through the room. He moved lightly, as if patrolling his territory, brushing his fingers along the jade pillars, tracing the exquisite carvings, leaning close to desks and chairs to inhale the faint aroma of spiritual wood.
Reaching the bed, his fingers glided over the cool silk bedding before he fully reclined. The thick, soft silk enveloped him completely, a sense of belonging he had never known.
Looking up at the floating merfolk pearls above, their gentle light scattering across his red hair in a halo, he let out a soft, incredulous laugh, voice brimming with delight: “The Immortal Lord… prepared this for me?”
No one had ever treated him this way. In the tribe, everything had to be fought for—no one arranged a place for him, no one cared if he was cold or weary. Yet here, the Immortal Lord had prepared everything, even considering the temperature of the carpet.
His gaze shifted toward the direction the Immortal Lord had left, and the light in his eyes grew intense. In that moment, a resolute thought ignited within him:
I must become the Immortal Lord’s rightful mate.
Determined to express his gratitude, Caesar volunteered to prepare lunch. In his mind, cooking was a crucial way for a female to attract a male. If he intended to become the Immortal Lord’s mate, he had to give his all.
By midday, he had prepared a sumptuous spread: fragrant roasted meats, vividly colored fruits and vegetables, and rich soups. Yet he hesitated—the palace had no cooking utensils or knives. Perhaps the Immortal Lord never cooks… he mused, but quietly resolved: from now on, he would take care of every meal.
As the dishes were placed on the jade table in the main hall, Caesar watched the Immortal Lord taste them, anxious yet hopeful. When he saw the Immortal Lord’s deep eyes briefly brighten, followed by a soft praise, “Well done… the taste is good,” his chest flared with warmth, cheeks flushing red.
“As long as you like it,” he whispered.
After the meal, the Immortal Lord tidied the table himself, placing a few spiritual herbs upon it. “These are Qingyun Grass and Xianteng Flowers, edible and beneficial to your constitution.” He demonstrated how to handle the herbs. Caesar listened intently, committing every detail to memory.
Yet the Immortal Lord added lightly: “You need not trouble yourself preparing every meal. Prepare only what you need; I do not require much sustenance.”
Caesar froze, puzzled. Among the insectoid tribes, even the strongest needed food to sustain energy. Could the Immortal Lord be some kind of mysterious special species? Though confused, Caesar’s desire to care for him only grew stronger.
In the afternoon, ink fragrance filled the hall. Caesar observed as the Immortal Lord painted characters on paper—flowing, elegant strokes he could not comprehend, yet breathtakingly beautiful. Curious, he leaned in, tilting his head. “Immortal Lord, what are you writing?”
The Immortal Lord lifted his gaze, eyes warm: “These are our characters.” Then, intrigued, he asked, “How do you record things in your tribe?”
Excited, Caesar took the brush and began writing, explaining their tribal script and recording methods with a hint of pride. Watching him, the Immortal Lord’s eyes reflected interest, a light laugh escaping: “Would Caesar teach me your script? It will make communication easier.”
Caesar’s heart warmed, nodding emphatically. He took the Immortal Lord’s hand, guiding the brush. The Immortal Lord initially tensed slightly, then naturally followed his movement. Their hands brushed, fingers touching; Caesar felt the warmth, chest racing. He deliberately slowed his breathing, leaning in so their shoulders almost met.
“This stroke… goes like this,” Caesar murmured, voice slow, eyes glancing greedily at the Immortal Lord’s focused profile.
Seeing the Immortal Lord master the complex strokes almost instantly, Caesar felt not only admiration but a quiet pride—truly the male he had chosen.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, falling on their intertwined hands. Each subtle touch ignited sparks of sweet desire in Caesar’s heart. He longed to be closer, to let this tranquil happiness linger forever.
When dusk replaced the golden light, the Immortal Lord set down the brush, letting him rest. Yet Caesar remained, fingertips lingering on the spot the Immortal Lord had held, savoring the warmth left behind.
After dinner, the palace gardens were silent. Night wind brought coolness; the silver moon hung high, spiritual moonflowers dusted the branches like fine snow, flickering faintly as the breeze moved them, casting the surroundings into a dreamlike realm, as if stepping into a moonlight-woven fairyland.
Walking side by side, Caesar stole glances at the Immortal Lord’s graceful, jade-like profile, heart racing to the point of burning his ears.
Should I… hold his hand? a timid thought arose, yet recoiled before reaching his fingers. He feared any small indiscretion would desecrate the peacefulness of this moment.
Before he could act, the Immortal Lord spoke: “Caesar, how is the tribe’s farming lately?”
Caesar snapped back to reality, recalling the stubborn tribesmen, voice cooling: “…Not going well. They are used to raiding; planting feels slow, hunting is faster. They care more about forging weapons than farming.”
“Hmph, raiding is the nature of your species. Few wish to change.”
“And you?” The Immortal Lord tilted his head, voice gentle. “If it feels too taxing, you need not bear it alone. Discuss with your people; you will find a way.”
Caesar froze. That tone held no blame, only care and concern. For the first time, he realized that being understood could feel more uplifting than winning a battle.
Flushing to hide his embarrassment, he lowered his gaze to a patch of trampled flowers at his feet, voice soft as a whisper: “…Immortal Lord, look… the moon tonight is so full.”
He babbled to shift the topic, heartbeat pounding as if it would burst. The Immortal Lord laughed softly, the sound rippling through Caesar’s chest like gentle waves, melting his anxiety.
They walked on in silence, along the moonflower-lined path. The quiet was not awkward but serene. Caesar matched the Immortal Lord’s pace, listening to their footsteps merge, wishing the path would never end.
The surroundings widened as they continued. The Immortal Lord suddenly paused, gazing at the infinite horizon. The gentle warmth in his expression faded, replaced by distant, lonely detachment. His lips softly uttered a verse:
“Stars hang over the vast plain, the moon surges along the river. Drifting, what am I like? A solitary seagull between heaven and earth.”
Caesar, though unable to understand the words, sensed the loneliness. He did not know the Immortal Lord’s origins or why he lived alone in this magnificent palace. A pang of sorrow welled in him. He longed to say, “I will stay by your side always,” yet it emerged instead as: “Do you… like the stars?”
The Immortal Lord turned to him, nodding faintly. Caesar’s lips curved into a bright smile: “Then let’s—go pick them.”
Before the Immortal Lord could react, Caesar’s red wings unfurled in the night, his spiritual energy gently enveloping the Immortal Lord, lifting him through the sky, breaking the atmosphere until the darkness ahead opened.
They were in a vast, boundless universe, countless stars sparkling, the Milky Way winding endlessly.
Caesar slowed, hovering in the void. He looked at the Immortal Lord, still awestruck, and felt pride swell in his chest. His voice, carried by spiritual energy, was low and tender: “Look—this is our planet.”
The Immortal Lord gazed at the blue gem-like world beneath, hand reaching out, as if to touch the emptiness: “You… can survive in space?”
“Most of the warrior females can, just not too long,” Caesar replied, pride evident.
The Immortal Lord smiled faintly, genuine admiration in his tone: “What a powerful species.”
The dazzling starlight reflected in the Immortal Lord’s eyes. Caesar’s heart surged with a bold thought—if he wished, he would pluck the entire starry sea, letting the universe shine solely for him.
Days passed in this peaceful rhythm. The Immortal Lord’s care, in every gaze and gesture, became a warm light, slowly illuminating Caesar’s heart.
Until one night, Caesar could no longer suppress the torrent of feelings within. Seeking to confirm his place in the Immortal Lord’s heart, he hesitated, then asked softly: “…If another male seeks to bond with me, what should I do?”
The air seemed to freeze. He awaited an answer that might send his heart racing, or a gentle reassurance.
But the Immortal Lord’s teacup trembled, then crashed to the floor with a sharp clink. The normally composed black eyes flickered with a rare shock.
“You… are female?”
Those four words hit Caesar like lightning. Pain seared through his chest, as if he had misheard.
“What… what do you mean? What do you think I am?” Caesar’s voice shook, a bitter laugh escaping. “Are you mocking me? Or do you think this is some game?”
All his admiration, effort, even the courage to spend his life with this one, were trampled in that instant.
His heart shattered, like the teacup on the floor, beyond repair.
He spun and ran from the hall, tears blurring his vision. Anger and sorrow consumed him, feet pounding desperately yet decisively.
“Caesar!” The Immortal Lord’s voice rang behind, urgent, unlike ever before.
Caesar did not look back, fearing that even the last fragment of his dignity would crumble. He ran deep into the night, his fiery form gradually disappearing into the sea of moonflowers at the edge of the palace grounds.