Original God Zhongli BG Xiao Qinglong traveled through time

The night wind blew gently, and the copper bells on the eaves made a tiny tinkling sound, like the rhythm of a certain immortal's pen tip tapping on paper when grinding ink under the corridor of the Wangsheng Hall. When Ye Lan entered the Wangshu Inn with Xiaolong curled up like a cat, the little guy in her arms seemed to be startled by the wind, her ears trembled slightly, and she fell asleep again quickly. She was smaller than an ordinary kitten, and her furry body glowed with a faint silver light in the moonlight, like a cloud of fluff crushed by starlight. The tail was longer than the body, loosely wrapped around Ye Lan's arm, and the tip of the tail occasionally swayed gently, as if chasing something in a dream - perhaps an unfulfilled promise, or perhaps an unspoken oath.

Ying followed behind him, holding the sword tightly in her hand, the power of purification still not dissipated. The remaining stardust on the sword edge shimmered in the moonlight, like crushed stars falling on the earth. She looked up at the second floor, where there was a half-closed window, and a figure stood by the window. The figure was slender, and his dark blue robe swayed gently in the night wind. His golden pupils glowed coldly in the darkness, like the unmelted ice in the deepest part of Guyun Pavilion.

"Xiao." Ying called softly.

The figure moved slightly, and appeared in front of them the next second. Xiao's eyes fell on the little dragon in Ye Lan's arms, and his golden pupils suddenly contracted, as if they were pricked by something.

"She..." Xiao's voice was low and cold, but Ying could hear the suppressed anger in it, like a volcano that was forcibly suppressed and could erupt at any time.

Ye Lan did not answer, but gently handed the little ball of fur in her arms forward. Xiao reached out to take it, his movements were surprisingly gentle, as if he was holding a piece of glass that could break at any time. When his fingertips touched Lin Huan's fur, the little figure trembled slightly and let out an almost inaudible whimper, like a sigh overflowing from a disturbed dream.

"It's okay." Ying explained in a low voice, as if she was afraid of waking something up, "She's back."

Xiao's brows were furrowed, and a trace of pain flashed in his golden pupils. He looked down at Lin Huan in his arms, and gently brushed her forehead with his fingertips. There should have been a pair of dragon horns there, but now they were almost invisible, leaving only soft fur, like edges and corners smoothed by wind and frost.

"She is always like this, as if she knows no fatigue or pain." Xiao's voice was filled with helplessness, like a blade sharpened by time, sharp but tired. "It makes people worry... Back then, all the immortals were mobilized to run around Liyuebai for a long time because of this matter. Now..."

“Forget it…” Finally, Xiao sighed softly and hugged the fur ball in his arms tightly, as if he wanted to integrate her into his own bones and blood. “It’s good that you’re back. Recovery is more important than anything else. Thank you for your hard work… If her personality was normal… I don’t know how to make her open her heart again… But now, this is also good.”

The fur ball in his arms suddenly raised his furry little head, a trace of guilt flashed in his eyes, and he rubbed Xiao's palm gently, letting out a faint whimper, like some kind of silent apology.

"You kid, you're always like this... You should let Master Liuyunjiefeng come over and give you a good lesson!"

"But now, take a good rest." Xiao's voice softened, like ice soaked in moonlight, finally warming up a little, "This time, it's our turn to protect you."

The night breeze blew gently, and the copper bells on the eaves made a tinkling sound. Xiao stood on the roof, holding the little dragon who had calmed down. Lin Huan was curled up at this moment, her furry body glowing with a faint silver light in the moonlight, like a soft cloud. Her ears trembled slightly, her nose was pink and tender, and it twitched slightly with her breathing. There was a trace of crystal saliva hanging from the corner of her mouth, and it was obvious that she was sleeping very deeply.

Ying stood aside, watching this scene, and couldn't help but smile. She pulled Ye Lan's sleeve and whispered, "Let's go."

Ye Lan raised her eyebrows, her eyes fell on the little dragon in Xiao's arms, and a faint smile appeared on the corner of her mouth: "Yes, it seems that a guest official of the Wangsheng Hall can't wait to take his little fur ball home."

Ying nodded and tiptoed back to the stairs. Ye Lan followed behind her, the life-binding thread on her wrist trembling slightly, as if bidding a silent farewell.

As they walked down the stairs, they heard light footsteps coming from the rooftop. Ying looked back and saw a familiar figure walking out of the shadows. The moonlight shone on his robe, reflecting a warm luster.

"Mr. Zhongli." Ying called softly.

Zhongli nodded slightly, his eyes fell on the little dragon in Xiao's arms, a hint of tenderness flashed in his eyes. He walked to Xiao's side and whispered, "Leave it to me."

Xiao turned around and glanced at Ye Lan. There was a hint of hesitation in his golden pupils, but he finally handed the little dragon in his arms over.

A slightly cool breeze blew over the eaves of Wangshu Inn, and the tinkling sound of the copper bells suddenly stopped for a moment. When Zhongli took the green ball of fur, the moonlight was shining obliquely on the gilded pattern between his eyebrows, and the amber light flowing deep in the rock print flickered, like a disturbed deep pool.

Lin Huan's fur was stained with night dew, and cold water marks spread across his palm, like a dandelion wet by rain. The penetrating wounds had long been condensed into golden cocoons by the rock element, but the curled right paw was still twitching unnaturally - the pink flesh pads curled into a small bud, and every tremor exuded a little golden sand, like a withered glass lily shaking off stardust. Zhongli's fingertips hovered half an inch above the wound, and the rock pattern spread silently along the outline of the cat's paw, but suddenly contracted when it touched the old scab, as if even the power of the gods was afraid of disturbing the pain.

"... Zhongli... Sir." Xiao's gentle call was scattered in the night wind. Ye Lan's life-giving silk was entangled with a few strands of faded dragon whiskers, emitting a faint light at the corner of the stairs. Mr. Keqing seemed not to hear it, and pressed his jade ring against the cat's trembling ear. The rock that had not moved for thousands of years actually revealed a crack at this moment - the weight in his arms was much lighter than he remembered, and the curled up fur ball was not even as heavy as half a paperweight.

"You always say I'm like a stone." He suddenly chuckled, but the tail tone was soaked with the bitterness that settled deep in the earth veins. The sleeping ball of fur unconsciously hooked its tail tip around the jade pendant on his waist, and the tip of its pompom-like tail twitched up and down, just like the old habit of someone in the corridor of the Hall of Rebirth who always liked to wrap the pen around the tassel of his jade pendant when grinding ink.

The sound of Ying's scabbard hitting the wooden steps startled the night. Zhongli suddenly gathered his arms, and his wide sleeves covered the scarred back of Mao'er like a hanging cloud. When the falling hair brushed the tip of Lin Huan's ear, the sleeping little dragon suddenly arched his collarbone, and the wet nose tip was against his carotid artery. The hot breath he exhaled hit the god's skin, stirring up a small golden ripple - there was a divine pulse that was difficult for mortals to detect, but at this moment it was out of control.

The copper bells on the eaves rang again, with the unique rhythm of the Wangsheng Hall. Zhongli lowered his eyes to look at the unhealed cracks on his paw pads, and suddenly remembered the day of the beginning of spring, when Lin Huan held the newly made kite string and looked up and asked with a smile: "If one day the breeze scatters thousands of threads, what will you do, sir?"

At that time, he was carving an amber paperweight, and the carving knife paused for a moment on the word "象" in "天动万象". "The rock is immovable, and it will wait for the breeze to gather again."

At this moment, the breeze in his arms was purring in the form of a cat, and the golden mark on the tip of its tail flickered with its breathing, like a spark that could go out at any time. The curled claws unconsciously pulled at his clothes, revealing the unhealed scars on his belly - there should have been jade scales there, but now there were only hideous pale golden grooves under the fur. Zhongli's palm silently spread rock patterns, but stopped abruptly when it was about to cover the wound. Excessive infusion of divine power would awaken her deliberately sealed memories, the pain that was soaked in the abyss, even the gods could not bear to touch it.

"Mr. Keqing's fingers are trembling."

Ye Lan's smiling voice floated from downstairs, and the life-thread wrapped around half a dragon scale jingled. Zhongli gathered his wide sleeves to protect the fur ball even tighter, and clasped the tip of the cat's exploded tail with his jade ring, and the golden sand condensed from the rock element smoothed every strand of messy hair. The sleeping little dragon suddenly kicked its hind legs, and the pink and tender flesh pads hit his Adam's apple squarely, the soft touch wrapped in warmth, like some kind of naive and cruel questioning.

The moonlight passed over the newly grown hair at the broken part of the dragon horn, where the jade dragon horn that resonated with his rock spear should be. Zhongli suddenly lowered his head, and the rock mark on his forehead gently touched the cat's trembling ear tips. The falling hair was entangled with the silver-white cat fur in the night wind, startling the furry ear tips and causing the entire fur ball to tremble and drill into his neck.

"Article 3 of the contract..." His whispers entered Lin Huan's ears, startling them so much that they trembled like lilies of the valley in the wind. "Those who keep their pain to themselves will be punished by drinking three jars of refreshing soup made from the morning dew of Wuwang Slope."

The fur ball in his arms suddenly trembled violently, and its injured claws scratched in the air twice. It was unknown whether it was dreaming of bitter medicine or sensing something. Zhongli chuckled and sighed, and brushed the tip of her exploding tail with his fingertips: "Are you scared now?"

The night wind, wrapped in the bitterness of neon flowers, blew across the building, and the glazed tiles at the highest point of Wangshu Inn suddenly glowed with amber light. When Ying looked up, she saw Mr. Keqing's wide sleeves spread out like a barrier under the moon, and the green ball of fur in his arms was trapped in the light cocoon woven by the rock pattern, like a butterfly sealed in amber. Xiaolong turned over, revealing the light golden scars on his belly, and his pink nose unconsciously rubbed the rock mark on Mr. Keqing's collar, and his snoring gradually took on a soft and coquettish ending.

"Mr. Zhongli..." She murmured as she gripped the hilt of the sword tightly, the residual warmth of the purifying power still flowing in her palm.

“Shh—” Ye Lan’s life-giving thread wrapped around the girl’s wrist, and her scarlet robe swept past the broken light in front of the steps, “Some tears cannot be clearly seen even by the moonlight.”

The clear sound of jade beads rolling down came from the rooftop, and the shadows of the twenty-seven jade beads formed a pattern of a butterfly in the air. The little dragon curled up in the light cocoon finally found the warmest corner, buried his nose in the folds of his collar that were stained with the smell of the rock seal, and his injured claws rested on his heart, as if grasping a star that would never fall.

Zhongli's fingertips condensed in mid-air, and a drop of amber divine blood fell on the tip of the cat's ear, and then seeped into the fur and disappeared in an instant. The back that had been straight for five hundred years tilted slightly, bending into a protective arc in the night wind, just like the most silent rock in Guyun Pavilion, blocking all the wind and frost for the spark in its arms.

"Go to sleep." The rock pattern spread over the last crack on the tip of the dragon's tail, and the gilded light was as gentle as a sigh, "This time it's the breeze that's willful, and the rock..."

His unfinished words were interrupted by his snoring, and the moonlight quietly climbed up his drooping eyelashes. The bronze bells of the Hall of the Dead trembled thousands of miles away, as if recording the unspoken oath of the gods.