What can she believe?
The setting sun flowed gently like a melting golden liquid over the peachwood branch Zhou Suyao leaned against, and also over the newly broken peach branch between the fingers of the eldest brother. Sawdust fell, making his movements seem even more steady and focused.
The light penetrated his drooping eyelashes.
Golden.
It was not the warm gold melted by the setting sun, nor the bright gold reflected by the metal of the carving knife, but a very pure, cold golden pupil that made people feel as if they were three feet cold.
Zhou Suyao felt her blood rushing to her head and then freezing into ice the next second.
Her heart was beating wildly, causing pain in her ribs.
But this pain also told her very clearly that the ruthless god she saw in the illusion had those golden eyes that overlooked everything, were indifferent to the tragedy of genocide in the demon world, and were indifferent to the common people.
It wasn't her imagination.
She bit her lower lip tightly and slowly backed away, but with a snap, she crushed the peach branch under her feet.
This sound exploded like thunder in the dead silent peach forest.
The figure beside the stone table paused, the peach branch stopped in mid-air, and the time around them seemed to be strangled by an invisible hand.
Zhou Shanyuan slowly turned his head.
Dusk is falling.
Half of his body was already covered by shadows.
But his eyes seemed even more dazzling than under the dim sunset, like the golden light when the sky gate opened, piercing into her eyes.
He saw her, saw her panic, her pale face, and her incredible panic.
The air seemed to condense instantly, turning into a stiff, heavy stone, pressing tightly against Zhou Suyao's heart. She froze in place, feeling that her hands and feet were even colder than when she was in desperate situation at the altar that day. She couldn't even move a finger.
These secrets were like invisible icebergs that collapsed in front of her in an instant, crushing her to pieces.
He was the one she saw in the illusion by the lake a hundred years ago, he was the one who sealed her flower meridians at the altar when she was dying, and what she could not accept the most - he was indifferent when facing the annihilation of the demon clan.
It's him.
It's always been him.
All she saw was him.
?
The blood color on Zhou Shanyuan's face had drained away, and he looked even paler than the plain robe he was wearing. It seemed that he had reached his limit, but was still holding on to the gentle glazed white jade mask that belonged to the "senior brother".
However, the moment this mask appeared in his golden pupils, it had already shattered into pieces in Zhou Suyao's eyes, leaving only the eternal and unchanging cold divinity under the mask.
He sighed, almost inaudibly, very softly and slowly. The sigh seemed to carry a tremendous weight, causing the peach branch in his hand to tremble slightly, and a few petals to fall silently.
As the breeze blew, the entire peach forest began to whisper, as if responding to the silent sigh.
His fingers gripping the flower branch subconsciously tightened, his knuckles turning white from excessive force, and even causing slight, uncontrollable tremors.
The flexible peach branch trembled in his palm like a candle in the wind.
But when he spoke, everything became calm again. Only a kind of deliberate, almost tired calm remained.
"Suyao? What's the matter?"
His voice was still low and hoarse.
I can't hear anything unusual.
Zhou Suyao's heart pounded in her chest. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her throat was too dry to make any sound. She looked at the face that appeared incredibly calm in the interplay of light and shadow, and even thought to herself that it was just an illusion.
She subconsciously took a few steps back, and this time she stepped on a field of soft fallen petals.
"No... I'm fine." She smiled and waved her hands repeatedly, trying to hide the panic in her eyes. "I just... came to see Senior Brother, are you feeling better...?"
In the shadows, Zhou Shanyuan just looked at her quietly. His gaze rested on her pale face, and the look in his eyes was deep, as if he could see through his strong composure.
After a moment, he pulled the corners of his mouth slightly, revealing a faint smile, but within that smile was a subtle, complex emotion.
"Much better."
The word "much better" fell softly, like a silent petal falling into the mud, without causing any echo, and it was so quiet that it was heart-wrenching.
But it made Zhou Suyao's heart sink to the bottom.
Those golden, silent pupils, without any ripples, made her feel hopeless.
Her senior brother... in the end...
Who is that person?
The afterglow of the setting sun burned in his eyes until it finally dissipated, but it could not dispel the eternal coldness in his eyes, which pricked her needle by needle, causing her pain.
Under his gaze, any emotion she had was but a drop in the ocean, so insignificant that it had no meaning.
If her emotions were just a drop in the ocean in his eyes, what about others?
Those monsters, those... the most ordinary human beings.
She could only stare at those eyes, trying to find some trace of "Senior Brother" in them.
The one who would play chess with her, would hold her up by the scruff of the neck helplessly, would always look at her with a smile, and then hand her the osmanthus cake begged from the house at the foot of the mountain... the eldest brother.
But she couldn't find it.
No. Not even a single bit.
The eyes were still the same eyes, and the face was still the same familiar person. But everything was different.
Those warm and solid friendships between senior and junior brothers and sisters, those past laughter and anger, and the trust that depended on each other for life and death, were all as fragile as thin ice under the sun, collapsing and turning into powder in an instant.
There's no going back to the past.
"Big Brother...what's wrong with your eyes?"
She didn't give up, opened her mouth again and asked softly.
But such questioning seems extremely dry.
"Eyes?" Zhou Shanyuan said slowly, "It's just an old injury that hasn't healed yet, and the spiritual power is disordered... Don't worry."
Spiritual power disorder?
Zhou Suyao felt like she was about to laugh out loud. If she hadn't been pinching her palms tightly, she probably would have laughed out loud.
In her two lifetimes, she has never heard of any good person's spiritual power being disrupted and his eyes turning into a golden color full of spiritual power. Is there such an activity? She is also willing to take some damage and see if she can "disrupt" it to produce some extraordinary abilities!
Even Wangcai probably wouldn't believe such a poor reason.
She subconsciously took two steps back. The soft peach petals beneath her feet made a faint, eerie sound, which seemed extremely strange in the dead silence of the peach forest. Her mind was extremely confused, and countless questions rushed to her mind.
"A hundred years ago, the demon race was exterminated. Why did you stand by and watch? Why did you turn a blind eye?!"
"Why were you so cold and silent when Ning Qinggui was being refined? Are you a coward... or is your nature just so cold-blooded and heartless?"
"Why were you able to seal the three meridian flowers so easily? Was it to stop Xuan Yangming, or... did you have another purpose?"
"How many secrets do you still have? What is your purpose in infiltrating the path of immortality?"
“Who…are you?”
These questions, each one piercing with blood, stagnated in her throat, searing at her remaining sanity. She wanted to scream, to question, to tear off the mask of hypocrisy from his face. However, when she raised her head to meet those calm, unwavering golden eyes, she felt all her strength drain away in an instant, leaving only endless despair and powerlessness.
"Suyao," Zhou Shanyuan spoke again, his voice as clear and crisp as the clashing of jade, gently breaking the suffocating silence. He set down the peach branch and carving knife, his voice deliberately slow, as if every subtle movement was consuming immense energy. "You've only just recovered from your injuries... You shouldn't stand in the wind for long. Go back and rest."
——Order to expel guests.
So gentle, yet so undeniable.
He turned slightly away from her, leaving only a distant and silent silhouette. Zhou Suyao stood there, unable to move. Her feet felt cold, and she knew it was meaningless to stay any longer.
The eldest brother would not explain, at least not at this moment.
Those golden eyes were like an invisible chasm between them, instantly severing the brotherhood and trust they had built over the past six years.
She opened her mouth, but in the end no words came out.
Then she turned suddenly, almost stumbling, and fled.
She never dared to look back.
Behind her, Zhou Shanyuan slowly turned around and stared at her stumbling back for a long time.
That gaze was unfathomable and complex.
It seems to penetrate the distance of space and the passing time.
It was not until a long time later that he squatted down and picked up a broken peach blossom with almost clumsiness.
Zhou Suyao stepped on the peach blossom when she fled in a hurry. The petals were scattered and broken, the edges were curled and dirty, and covered with mud. The pistil was also crushed. It had completely lost its blooming posture and was left with only embarrassment and misery, lying quietly in his palm.
He stared at the peach blossom for a long time.
After a while, he slowly raised his hand, exerted his spiritual power, and transformed the peach blossom back to its intact state.
Then he put the peach blossom into his pocket.
Dusk fell, the last bit of daylight disappeared, and the peach forest fell into a hazy darkness.
He stood alone beside the stone table, his figure appearing even more solitary in the dim light. He raised his hand and picked up the unfinished peach branch on the table again, his movements carrying a subtle tenderness.
But this tenderness comes quickly and goes away quickly.
He raised his head slightly, looked at the jade-white moon in the sky, and let out a light sigh.
"The time...hasn't come yet."
The voice was as low as a dream, carrying with it an unspeakable heaviness and feeling of knowing one's fate, yet being tightly bound by it...
A barely perceptible trace of fatigue.
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