Confluence: Goddess Reborn

By the next day, Jian Yi was being treated properly—his wounds cleaned and dressed by a real physician, not just a panicked former plague nurse with shaking hands and gauze. More soldiers arrived in waves, along with a proper medic team, and by evening, the makeshift camp no longer looked like a desperate hideout. It was becoming something structured. Controlled.

It was a real camp—tents, torches, command posts, and the sharp smell of smoke and sweat. Somewhere organized. Safe, supposedly.

Jian Yi insisted I rest.

I nodded. Smiled. Pretended to listen.

Then I didn't rest at all.

Instead, I paced. A lot. My legs moved even when my body screamed for stillness, like the motion might somehow keep my thoughts from falling apart. My heart wouldn't sit still. Neither would my mind. I kept staring at the edge of the trees, as if Ming Yu or Yuling might emerge at any moment—called into existence by sheer force of will.

But they didn't.

What if they didn't make it?

What if the scouts return alone?

What if one comes back, and the other—

No. I shut that door. Slammed it. I'd already cried in the dirt once today. That was my quota.

But the spiraling didn't stop. My stomach twisted with every hour that passed, every shadow that didn't materialize into someone familiar. What if I never saw Ming Yu's quiet smile again? What if I had lost him?

The ache in my chest pressed harder, refusing to be ignored. And still—I waited.

The sun was already sinking into the trees when it happened. A shout echoed through the camp. I stood before I even processed it.

And then—

Ming Yu appeared between two scouts, dirt-streaked, bloodied, but alive.

And carrying someone in his arms.

"Yuling!" I ran to them, my breath catching when I saw her face. Pale. Still. Barely conscious. Blood on her robes, too much blood.

Ming Yu's jaw was set, but I could see it—behind his usual calm. The anguish. The fury. The fear that had followed him all the way back.

The moment Jian Yi saw her, his entire body went still.

"…That's Yuling," he murmured, stunned. "How is she here?"

"You know her?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Jian Yi looked at her like seeing a ghost. "I thought she was dead."

Ming Yu laid her down gently on a bedroll as the medics rushed over.

Then he looked at me—and finally said the words I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath for.

"She's the daughter of Minister Jing," he said. "The one who served under Queen Wei."

"That is what she told me before she left to lure the bad guys away. Who exactly is she?"

He nodded.

"When Queen Wei was accused of treason," Ming Yu continued, his voice heavy, "Minister Jing stood by her. He helped her try to clear her name. When the accusations stuck, they executed her supporters—including his entire family."

I felt sick.

"I didn't even know she was still alive," Ming Yu said softly. "Not until you brought her to me."

Yuling, who had kept me safe. Who had smiled and fought and bickered and tried to trade robes with me to save my life. That Yuling. She has such a tragic life!

I couldn't stop the tears from welling up. Before I could speak, another commotion rolled through the camp.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji arrived.

They moved through the soldiers like waves through tall grass, eyes scanning until they found us.

Wei Wuxian's eyes swept over me, then Jian Yi, then Ming Yu —and he exhaled hard with visible relief.

"You're all alive," he said, like he had to say it out loud to believe it.

Lan Wangji gave a short nod, calm as ever, but I could see it—his grip on his sword was just a bit too tight.

Ming Yu stepped forward, quiet and precise. "We were ambushed. The attackers wore masks—but under them, they bore Daqi insignia."

Lan Wangji's gaze sharpened instantly. Wei Wuxian frowned. "So it was an official operation."

"Looks that way," Ming Yu said.

Wei Wuxian exchanged a long look with Lan Wangji.

"They didn't just want to wipe out the village," he said. "They wanted to cut off the plague. Erase it. Kill every witness."

Jian Yi's expression darkened. "I need to go back to the palace," he said, standing despite his wound. "If Daqi soldiers were involved, someone in the court knew. I won't let this pass."

"You won't get far," Wei Wuxian said grimly. "Not with half the court waiting for you to trip."

He turned to me then, his tone softening.

"We should all return to Luyang," he said. "We can't do anything here—not openly. And if the court finds out Daqi tried to kill Prince Wei's consort and his Advisor…"

He didn't have to finish.

I already knew.

It would be war.

****

We traveled back to Luyang under the cover of dusk, the red flare long faded from the sky but not from our memories. Every hoofbeat on the road felt like a countdown. To what, I wasn't sure. More politics? More secrets? An actual bed?

Yuling came with us—still unconscious, still pale, but breathing. That was all I needed for now.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji led the group, cloaks billowing like they were shooting a recruitment ad for the next great war. As we neared the Luyang border, Wei Wuxian turned in his saddle, his usual smirk nowhere to be found.

"We shouldn't take Yuling directly to the palace," he said, his tone clipped. "There's too much risk someone will recognize her."

I frowned. "After all these years?"

"Political memory is longer than bloodlines," Lan Wangji said quietly beside him.

"Comforting," I muttered.

We stopped in a quiet city just past the border, tucked against the foot of a mountain. The kind of place with winding alleys, warm soup shops, and absolutely no desire to get involved in royal drama.

Perfect.

We checked into a modest inn with clean sheets and—more importantly—doors that locked.

Yuling was placed in the inn's back room, still unconscious. The healer we'd found on short notice said she needed rest and time.

That night, I sat in the corner of our shared room, sipping tea I couldn't taste and finally asked the question that had been burning in my brain since the moment I stepped out of that plague village alive.

"So… what do we do about Yufei?"

All of them looked at me. Ming Yu's jaw tightened just slightly. Wei Wuxian set down his cup with a sigh.

"That," he said, "is tricky."

"No kidding," I replied. "She tried to kill me. With gravity. In broad daylight."

"It's your word against hers," he continued, his voice calm but edged with frustration. "We don't have witnesses. No one saw her push you."

Yeah, I know. Apparently near-death experiences don't come with security footage or a convenient flashback montage.

Wei Wuxian rubbed his temples. "If we accuse her without proof, her family will retaliate. The Wang family would claim slander, and the court would twist it back onto you."

"Great," I said. "So I survived the plague, forest assassins, and palace politics, just to get dragged for defamation?"

Ming Yu almost smiled. Almost.

Lan Wangji—silent in the corner—offered me a nod of sympathy that was so dignified it almost made me cry.

I sighed and leaned back. "Okay. So we can't confront her. What can we do?"

"At this rate," he said quietly, "Yufei might pull the same trick again. Either try to gain power by becoming Wei Ying's concubine…"

He paused.

"Or mine."

The silence that followed was instant.

And deafening.

My heart stopped. Then launched into a sprint.

I slowly turned to him, eyes narrowing.

"I'm sorry," I said, very calmly, "You're not planning to take her as your wife… right?"

He didn't respond right away, which was the exact wrong thing to do.

Before he could even breathe, Wei Wuxian decided to help. And by help, I mean throw kerosene on my barely-contained emotional meltdown.

"He might be forced to," Wei Wuxian added, far too casually. "If she marries Ming Yu, it reopens her access to Daqi through Jian Yi. They're cousins. Politically, it makes sense. It would also weaken my influence, since Ming Yu is one of the strongest cultivators we have."

He said it like he was reading a market forecast.

I, however, was seeing red.

Oh, I thought. She tries to murder me and she gets a diplomatic upgrade?

I was livid.

Absolutely, jaw-clenching, tea-cup-shattering livid.

Ming Yu finally glanced at me, eyes narrowing just slightly—not at me, but like he was finally registering the danger level rising in the room.

"Wei Ying," he said, voice firm. "Can we have a moment? Alone?"

Wei Wuxian blinked at the tone. Then raised both hands, clearly amused. "Alright. Let's go Lan zhan. Try not to break the furniture."

They both slipped out, clearly not understanding that I was the furniture about to break.

Ming Yu turned to me.

But before he could say a word, it all exploded.

"You're not seriously considering it, are you?" I snapped. "Marrying her? After everything she's done?"

"Mei Lin—"

"I almost died because of her. She tried to kill me! In broad daylight! In front of the villa! And you're just going to—what? Let her wear a veil and call it love?"

His brows drew together. "I never said that."

"You didn't deny it either!"

My voice cracked, and I hated it.

I hated how unhinged I sounded. I hated how tired I was. I hated that my hands were shaking and that I couldn't tell if it was from fear or fury or—

Or heartbreak.

I was unraveling.

Because I hadn't slept properly in days. Because we'd been ambushed and hunted and I had watched people nearly die for me and now, now, the man I love—was calmly discussing political marriages while my heart was still raw.

I knew I was being unfair.

But that didn't stop the storm inside me from tearing through everything.

I turned away from him, unable to hold his gaze. "I know I don't have the right," I muttered, voice shaking. "You're an unmarried man. You can marry whoever you want." I let out a bitter laugh. "Meanwhile, I'm already married."

The word tasted like poison.

Married. Tied to Wei Wuxian by title, by alliance, by strategy. Not by love. Not even by choice.

"I never even considered it a possibility," I whispered. "You and her."

It hadn't occurred to me. Not even once. Because in my mind, Ming Yu was mine in that soft, unspoken, doesn't-need-a-label kind of way. The kind that didn't require rings or robes or royal ceremonies. Just quiet looks. Gentle hands. Trust.

But politics didn't care about that. They never did. I let myself spiral—fully, freely.

"What are we supposed to do?" I said, throwing my arms up. "We already pulled the 'Lan Zhan scandal escape' card with Yufei. We can't just use the same playbook again. What now? Declare that you're secretly in love with me? Force the court to demote you to my personal guard out of scandal and shame?"

I laughed, and it cracked in the middle.

"That wouldn't even work this time. They'd see through it. They'd say we're manipulating court tradition. And maybe we are. But I'm not a queen. I don't have that kind of power."

I wiped at my face, furious with myself when my fingers came away damp.

Tears. Of course.

My chest heaved as I turned back toward him. For a moment, Ming Yu said nothing. The silence stretched, but not the cold kind. It was the kind that came before something real. The kind that felt like breath held between two hearts.

Then he stepped closer.

Softly. Carefully.

"I would never let that happen," he said.

His voice was quiet—but firm. Steady in the way only he could be. And that steadiness, after all my spiraling, made something inside me break just a little more—but this time, in the best way.

"If anyone—anyone—tries to force that path," he continued, "I'll do everything in my power to stop it."

I blinked at him, barely breathing.

He wasn't dramatic like Wei Wuxian. He didn't make sweeping declarations or stir the room with clever words.

But when Ming Yu spoke like this—direct, honest, and without a hint of doubt—it struck deeper than any speech ever could.

"I don't want her," he said. "Not politically. Not personally. Not now. Not ever."

My chest tightened, tears still clinging to the edges of my lashes.

"And you," he added, stepping even closer, "are not just a consort in name. Not to me."

I didn't realize I was crying again until his hand lifted to gently brush a tear from my cheek. His touch was soft—like I might shatter if he held me wrong.

"Ming Yu…"

I didn't finish the sentence. I didn't need to. He leaned in, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.

I reached for him before I could stop myself, my hands gripping the front of his robe, grounding me. Or maybe I was grounding him—I couldn't tell anymore.

He didn't hesitate.

He kissed me.

Chapter 40.5 : Smoke and Shadows (Continued)

Ming Yu kissed me like a man at war—with the world, with time, with everything that had nearly torn us apart. There were no words now, no restraint. Just fire. Just need.

We stumbled toward the bed in a blur of movement and heat, his mouth never leaving mine. Fingers dragged through hair, tugged at cloth, tore at layers. Our clothes fell away between frantic touches, until there was nothing between us but skin and everything we hadn't said.

He laid me back on the bed with a kind of tender that clashed with the urgency in his hands. His body pressed into mine, warm and solid and here. He kissed down my jaw, my neck, the curve of my shoulder—each touch branding me like he was afraid I'd vanish again if he let go.

My legs parted for him instinctively, desperate for him, for the weight of him, for the grounding force only he could give. He didn't ask. He didn't pause. He simply took me into his arms, settled between my thighs, and pushed inside with a single, deep thrust.

I gasped—half from the sudden fullness, half from the emotional onslaught that followed.

He moved like a man undone.

Hard. Deep. Desperate.

His rhythm was urgent, relentless, like he was trying to anchor himself inside me. His hands gripped my hips, his breath hot against my neck. I clung to him with shaking arms, fingers digging into his back as he thrust again and again, each motion pulling a cry from my throat.

And then—he stopped.

His body went still, buried deep, muscles tense with restraint.

My breath caught. I blinked, confused. "Ming Yu?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes were shut tight, jaw clenched, sweat glistening across his brow. I felt the tremor in him—the way his body hovered on the edge.

"I was too close," he rasped, voice strained. "I couldn't… I didn't want it to end like that. Not without you."

Before I could respond, he pulled out carefully, his touch gentle, and kissed me—slow and deep, a contrast to everything that had come before. Then he moved lower, pressing his mouth to my throat, my collarbone, my chest… trailing kisses and heat as he descended.

"Ming Yu—" I breathed, startled.

But his hands slid down my thighs, parting them gently, and the moment his mouth found me, everything else disappeared.

I cried out, head falling back against the pillows as his tongue moved with purpose—focused, rhythmic, patient. His hands held me steady as he licked and tasted, every flick, every pressure sending shockwaves through my body.

He didn't stop. Not when my hips jerked. Not when my moans turned breathless. Not when my fingers tangled in his hair, tugging without thought. He stayed locked on me, relentless in his devotion.

The tension built again, sharper this time, tinged with emotion and too much feeling.

When I came, I shattered.

Hard.

A sob tore from my lips as my body clenched and convulsed under him, pleasure ripping through me like lightning in a storm. I trembled, thighs quaking around his shoulders, breath lost to the dark ceiling above.

He kissed my thigh gently, then climbed back up my body, his face flushed, eyes dark with desire and heat.

"You didn't have to," I whispered, dazed.

"I wanted to," he said simply.

I reached up, pulled him down, kissed him hard—tasting myself on his lips, needing to give back, to show him what he'd just given me.

Now I moved with purpose.

I kissed down his chest, feeling the way his breath caught. I dragged my fingers over the taut muscles of his stomach, lower, until I reached him—hard, ready, trembling for release.

He groaned as I took him in my hand, then gasped when my mouth followed. I moved slowly at first, teasing, savoring the weight and heat of him, the way he twitched and pulsed against my tongue. His hand fisted in the sheets, the other finding its way to my hair—but not to control. Just to anchor himself.

"Mei Lin," he growled, breath ragged. "If you keep going—"

I didn't stop.

I wanted to ruin him the way he'd unraveled me. To feel him fall apart in my mouth.

His hips jerked beneath me as I took him deeper, my tongue swirling, lips tightening around him. He cursed again, voice breaking, the sound raw and helpless.

When he came, it was with a gasp that turned into a groan—his body arching, hand gripping my shoulder like he was afraid to let go.

I held him through it, swallowed everything he gave me, and only pulled away when he collapsed fully into the bed, breathless and stunned.

We lay there for a few quiet moments, tangled in each other's warmth, the tension of everything that had nearly destroyed us finally beginning to lift.

Ming Yu was still catching his breath, head tilted back, one arm draped over his eyes like he'd just been hit by divine intervention.

I rested my chin on his chest, watching him—utterly smug.

Okay, not to brag.. but I'd given a few blowjobs in my time. I knew what I was doing. And judging by the way his soul just left his body?

Yeah. I still had it.

Even in ancient China. Even in a borrowed body. Still a five-star performance.

I pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone and was about to make a cheeky comment when he suddenly moved.

In one smooth, startling motion, Ming Yu flipped me beneath him, hands firm on my thighs, and settled between them with a gaze that had lost all restraint.

His voice was low, dark, barely recognizable.

"You think you get to ruin me," he growled, "and I don't get to ruin you back?"

And then he thrust into me.

No warning. No teasing.

Just a single, deep, devastating stroke that made my body jolt.

I gasped, my hands flying to his shoulders, barely able to process the sensation of him filling me again so soon—hot, thick, impossibly hard. My inner muscles clenched instinctively around him, still slick from earlier, and I swore I saw his eyes roll back for just a second.

"Mei Lin," he hissed. "You're still so tight."

His hips drew back, then slammed forward again, and the entire bed shuddered beneath us. His pace was different now—wilder, rougher, like something inside him had snapped.

His body covered mine completely, his skin burning hot against mine, his breath broken and ragged near my ear.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him, anchoring myself against every powerful, punishing thrust.

He buried himself inside me again and again, each motion deeper than the last, his rhythm fast and unrelenting. The bed slammed against the wall, and the sounds leaving my mouth weren't words anymore—they were whimpers, gasps, cries.

"Ming Yu," I managed, "you—"

But I couldn't even finish the sentence.

Pleasure was already coiling in my belly again—fast, hot, insistent. Every drag of him against that spot deep inside me lit a fire I couldn't contain. I could hear myself moaning, crying out, begging—but the words were lost to the rhythm of our bodies slamming together.

My nails dragged across his back, my legs locked around his waist.

"Ming Yu—don't stop," I gasped. "Please—don't—"

He didn't.

He thrusted harder, deeper, his pace maddening as if he was trying to burn himself into my very bones. His mouth found mine again—messy, consuming—his teeth grazing my lower lip before he kissed me like he needed it to live.

The pleasure rose fast. Fierce. Unstoppable.

It tore through me like a dam breaking, sudden and violent. My whole body arched as I came—tight, hard, shuddering around him with a cry that ripped from somewhere deep inside me.

Everything clenched.

Everything pulsed.

I felt like I was unraveling in his arms, every nerve on fire.

And that was all it took for him.

He groaned, forehead pressed against mine, eyes shut tight as he moved harder. Faster. The muscles in his arms flexed with every motion, his jaw clenched in that familiar way that meant he was barely hanging on.

"Mei Lin," he gritted, "I… am gonna..."

And gods, I could feel it.

The way he was starting to lose rhythm—hips jerking, thrusts slamming with raw desperation. His whole body shuddered with tension, every inch of him focused on the pleasure building in unbearable waves.

"Don't hold back," I gasped, nails dragging down his back. "Come for me."

That did it.

He buried himself deep and let out a broken, low groan—my name on his lips like a plea, like an oath.

Then his body jerked hard.

He slammed into me one final time and came undone with a strangled gasp, his release spilling hot and thick inside me. I could feel every pulse of it, every tremor of his body as he emptied himself into me, breath hitching with each wave.

He stayed there, buried deep, arms trembling around me, his face buried in the crook of my neck as his breathing slowly began to return to normal.

I cradled his head against me, fingers in his hair, still shaking from the intensity of it all.

Only the sound of our breathing remained—uneven, slowing. The candle beside the bed had burned low, its golden light flickering against the tangled sheets and bare skin.

His breath was warm, brushing over my collarbone in soft waves, still catching faintly from the force of everything we'd just shared.

Then—slowly—he lifted his head.

His eyes found mine in the dim light, concern looked in his eyes.

His voice, when he spoke, was barely above a whisper. "Did it… hurt?"

The question caught me off guard.

I blinked up at him, startled—and then, slowly, I smiled.

"No," I whispered. "It didn't."

He exhaled, relief washing over his features. "I couldn't hold back," he confessed. "When I saw you, after everything... I thought I might lose you. The fear, the relief—it overwhelmed me."

I reached up, cupping his cheek. "I understand," I said. "I felt the same way."

He leaned into my touch, his eyes searching mine. "Mei Lin, I need you to know something."

I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I am yours," he said firmly. "Forever. I won't be with anyone else—not Yufei, not anyone. Only you."

A warmth spread through my chest, his words settling into the deepest parts of me. I felt a sense of peace, a satisfaction I hadn't known I was missing.

"I believe you," I replied, my voice steady.

We held each other, the world outside fading away. In that moment, nothing else mattered.