My Husband’s Ascension C64
Chapter 64 Driftwood
Before finding a way to leave this Three Thousand Million World, Zhao Zhao found a place to settle Xie Lanshu.
Once she had calmed, she began to methodically consider an escape.
Judging from Wu-Shaman Xian’s reaction, this Three Thousand Million World was clearly not accessible to just anyone. The likelihood of Yao Ling, Li Feng, and the others bursting in to rescue them was slim.
The only path was self-rescue.
Her presence here must have been orchestrated by the predecessors trapped in the human pillar, who had seized the few moments of clarity they possessed. If they had sent her in, it was because they believed she could lead Xie Lanshu out.
It made sense. In all things, there exists the law of mutual generation and restraint. A realm with such overwhelming power could not be flawless.
The question was how that flaw presented itself. She had no clue.
Zhao Zhao yawned.
Just the act of thinking had already made her feel inexplicably tired.
“Tired?”
The youth, straightening from arranging the bedding, was illuminated by the candlelight. His profile bore an uncanny serenity and warmth. “You must be exhausted. Rest a while.”
Indeed, after an entire night navigating the realm with only a mortal body, Zhao Zhao was deeply fatigued.
Moreover, she could not shake the feeling that being in this Three Thousand Million World was far more exhausting than usual.
Here, she had located, by memory, a small private residence under her name. Xie Lanshu had tidied it up; for tonight, it could serve as a temporary refuge.
She needed sleep to restore her strength, and so Zhao Zhao rose and moved toward the bed.
Before she could reach it, a hand gripped her waist, deliberate and practiced, loosening her garments.
“…No need, I can manage myself,” Zhao Zhao said sharply, fully alert now, clutching his wrist. “I’ll explain everything to you tomorrow. You should return to your own room first.”
Xie Lanshu offered a gentle smile. “The space is limited. Only one room could be arranged.”
Zhao Zhao opened her mouth to protest.
“Does Master intend for me to sleep on the floor next door?” Xie Lanshu’s fingers traced down the sash of her red wedding dress, his expression soft, yet obedient. “If that is Master’s command, I shall comply.”
Unlike Xiao Bai, who excelled in charms and allure, the ‘Master’ that slipped from Xie Lanshu’s lips carried none of the servile, groveling undertone one might expect.
Even while uttering words that humbled himself, there remained a subtle, unmistakable presence of authority, a natural ascendancy that clung to him.
Yet this quiet pressure was not unpleasant. On the contrary, it stirred something strange within her, a thrill that seemed to set the very blood in her veins alight… a peculiar sense of…satisfaction?
It was as if a being, long regarded by the world as lofty and untouchable, had been drawn into the mundane mortal plane—and here, so effortlessly, was kneeling at her feet.
…Truly kneeling at her feet.
“What are you doing?!”
Zhao Zhao barely blinked before he had, almost instinctively, begun removing the elaborate outer layers of her wedding attire, half-crouched on the floor as if to slip off her shoes.
Startled, she stumbled back, withdrawing her feet from his hands.
“One should always remove shoes and wash up before sleep,” he said, gesturing toward a basin of water nearby. “Hot water has already been prepared.”
She had no idea when he had managed to set it up…
Could it be… that he intended to wash her feet as well?
Even in her memories of the past, not even Xie Lanshu had ever done something so intimate.
Though they had once been close, Zhao Zhao was no longer the same as she had been, and a strange unease stirred within her at the thought.
“I can manage on my own. You… should just sleep here tonight,” she said.
Partly, she felt a twinge of sympathy for him, seeing his mind still somewhat unsettled.
More importantly, she remembered that Wu-Shaman Xian seemed able to enter and exit this Three Thousand Million World at will.
Though she did not know if there were limits to this, or how much spirit energy it consumed, leaving her alone at night was far too risky.
Until she could find a way out, it was far safer for Xie Lanshu to remain by her side.
“Very well.”
He smiled, seemingly content, and after they had washed up, he blew out the candlelight.
The bed was spacious enough for four or five people; as a mortal, Zhao Zhao naturally claimed the only blanket, pressing herself to the inner side of the bed, leaving a considerable distance between them.
Xie Lanshu made no overstepping move.
He stayed entirely within the boundaries she set, making no request that might cause her discomfort.
For a long while, there was no second breath beside her pillow, and Zhao Zhao found herself oddly unaccustomed to the silence.
Fortunately, she was far too exhausted to dwell on it. The sudden influx of spirit energy, coupled with the weariness imposed by the Three Thousand Million World, had left her body and mind utterly spent. Not long after lying down, she sank completely into slumber.
…
When she opened her eyes again, the sky had already brightened.
Zhao Zhao rose slowly from the bed. The person who had been by her side was nowhere to be seen; the warmth had faded. Yet footsteps echoed in the courtyard, indicating he had not gone far.
She pressed her temple with a hand. Fatigue persisted, if anything, it felt heavier than before.
This Three Thousand Million World was no place for idle leisure.
The exhaustion still lingering on her soul made it unmistakably clear that lingering too long could be a matter of life and death.
Perhaps it was more than that, if even Xie Lanshu might show signs of madness, could she truly hope to remain untouched?
Zhao Zhao rose to change, only to realize the red bridal attire she had removed last night had vanished. In its place hung a neatly arranged set of emerald-green garments, of unknown origin.
“By order of Young Master Shen, we have come to escort Missus Shen back to the residence. Kindly convey the message.”
Outside, a stir in the courtyard reached her ears, and Zhao Zhao guessed who it was. She hurriedly changed her clothes and pushed open the door.
The garments were cumbersome, yet even at her fastest pace, Xie Lanshu already had the Single-Intent Sword poised at the neck of the Shen Residence steward.
“Stop!” Zhao Zhao intercepted him, seizing his wrist to guide the sword back into its sheath.
His fingers were icy, trembling ever so slightly.
She caught a faint scent of scorched air from him.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed a bronze basin in the yard. Within it, the bridal attire she had removed the previous night lay reduced to unrecognizable ashes, consumed by flames.
She could only murmur gently, trying to soothe him. “I’m going back with them to handle some matters. You stay here and wait for me to return.”
His emotions were raw and unstable, and in his cold, silent eyes, a killing intent flickered that could not be concealed.
“I will not allow anyone to take you from me,” Xie Lanshu said, fingers still clenched around the hilt of his sword, his expression a chilling calm laced with madness. “After everything, now that you’ve finally returned to my side, I will never—”
“I have not returned to your side.” Zhao Zhao met his gaze squarely, her voice firm and unyielding. “I allow you to remain by my side for the time being. But this permission comes with conditions. If you fail to follow my words, I will revoke it at any time.”
His pupils contracted sharply.
The fierce, murderous gleam that had made everyone around them shiver gradually softened, inch by inch, in response to her words.
His snow-white lashes drooped. Xie Lanshu loosened his grip on the sword, and the other hand, which had held Zhao Zhao’s arm so tightly, finally released after a tense struggle.
It was as if a person floating in water had been forced to let go of the last driftwood; the act of releasing her seemed to inflict immense pain upon him.
Ultimately, he answered calmly, “…I will follow your words. I will wait here for you.”
Zhao Zhao allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. “I will return as quickly as possible. I promise.”
She had to stop by the Shen Residence, the family she had just married into.
Although it was somewhat risky, handling this matter herself was far more efficient; Xie Lanshu’s presence would only complicate things. Zhao Zhao returned to the Shen Residence and dealt with the aftermath swiftly, leaving no loose ends.
Once she departed, the courtyard fell into a profound silence.
Xie Lanshu’s expression remained unreadable as he glanced at the bronze basin in the corner.
Inside lay the bridal gown she had once worn for another marriage. Without hesitation, he added another batch of kindling, reducing even the last fragments to ashes.
Once the gown was reduced to nothing, he turned toward the kitchen. There lay the morning meal freshly prepared, but Zhao Zhao had not even glimpsed it. Xie Lanshu poured it all away without a second thought.
The waiting stretched on, unbearably long.
After Zhao Zhao departed, he seemed to lose all will to act. Xie Lanshu sat motionless, devoid of any desire to eat or rest.
His unstable mind flickered through countless images: those worlds in which she had died, worlds where she was not acquainted with him, or even the worlds in which he had personally stripped her of her cultivation, turning them into enemies locked in endless conflict.
Xie Lanshu could no longer discern which of these small worlds he truly occupied.
When the door opened later, which version of her would step through? The one who drew her sword to strike him, or the one who would smile and call him ‘husband’?
Or perhaps all of last night had been a mere fabrication of his mind, like in the seven hundred and sixty-fourth world, when Mount Ling planted a gu within him and his reason broke entirely, leaving him a wandering, senseless madman, unable to distinguish dream from reality.
…Was it a dream?
…Had it all truly been his imagination?
Suddenly, Xie Lanshu rose, staggering back into the inner chamber, desperate to search for any trace she might have left behind.
But Zhao Zhao had stayed only a brief while, leaving nothing behind in the room. Even the faintest trace of her presence on the pillow had already dissipated into the air, leaving no sign to follow.
Xie Lanshu suddenly remembered something and rushed to the copper basin in the courtyard.
The fire in the basin had just died out, yet the remaining ashes still radiated unbearable heat. Without seeming to feel the burn, he cupped the scorched fragments of her gown and the melted golden hairpin in his hands. Suddenly, something heavy seemed to have slammed against the ground.
He gasped for air like a drowning man suddenly finding a breath, his pale cheeks tinged unnaturally red from the lack of oxygen.
It wasn’t a dream.
He had not gone mad, he was still lucid.
…
By evening, when the sky was streaked with crimson clouds, Zhao Zhao finally returned under the protection of the Xie Residence servants.
But no sooner had she pushed open the door than she was enveloped in an embrace so tight it nearly stole her breath.
Zhao Zhao froze, unsure, but managed to ask, soothingly, “What happened?”
The warmth of her body and the faint fragrance clung to his senses.
The vast emptiness in his chest seemed suddenly filled. Xie Lanshu’s hand moved slowly and reverently through her hair.
“Have you taken care of everything now?” He forced his voice to sound calm and steady, as though he had been composed all along.
“Mm, I left a letter of divorce.”
She had first settled matters with the Shen Residence, leaving behind the letter of divorce and a substantial sum. Though wedding today and parting tomorrow might look shameful, Zhao Zhao had been generous enough with the money. Thus the Shen Residence, who accepted this marriage for wealth in the first place, did not make things difficult.
As for the Xie Residence, she had given them a heads-up as well. Though surprised, the Xie couple accepted the reality once Zhao Zhao explained that Xie Lanshu had returned.
Only after handling all this did she return to the courtyard.
“Would just leaving a letter of divorce suffice?”
He would have preferred to eliminate the other party entirely, to prevent future trouble.
Zhao Zhao did not sense that hidden intention. She thought for a moment and said, “He seemed unwilling to sign, but there’s nothing he can do, he’s only a mortal. You understand that best.”
Speaking of the letter of divorce he had once written, Zhao Zhao remained remarkably calm.
Yet Xie Lanshu shuddered all over.
From the murky chaos of his mind, a fragment of memory he had long resisted surfaced with shocking clarity.
He had indeed written a letter of divorce.
“…I’m sorry.” His throat felt raw, words of defense completely eluding him. All he could do was cling to her as if she were a lifeline, holding her even tighter.
Zhao Zhao heard his low, humble murmur against her ear.
“Don’t abandon me.”
