Ch150 - Past Life Infinite Hell 2 . Betrothal Letter




Su Hansheng and Chongjue returned to Falling Parasol Lodge.
The companion tree was stretching its branches toward the setting sun in the courtyard. Seeing Su Hansheng return, it eagerly extended a tendril toward his wrist.
Chongjue glanced coldly.
The companion tree instantly froze, timidly retracting its branch.
After Su Hansheng led Chongjue inside and banged the door shut, he grabbed his collar and leaned in to kiss him.
Chongjue instinctively gripped Su Hansheng’s waist, about to move but forcibly restraining his impulse. His grip instantly gentled, only lightly embracing him.
“Are you unhappy?” Su Hansheng asked.
Chongjue couldn’t say. His hand gently stroked Su Hansheng’s soft hair, saying calmly, “No.”
Seeing him still pretending, Su Hansheng said with a smile, “Then I’ll go play with Yuan Qian and Baili.”
Chongjue’s pupils dilated. Irritation instantly swept through his consciousness. Losing control, he grabbed Su Hansheng, pressed him against the door, leaned down with a dark expression and bit his lip hard.
Su Hansheng hissed in pain.
Vaguely tasting weak metallic blood at his lips, Su Hansheng said irritably, “Are you trying to bite through my mouth so I can’t show my face?”
Su Hansheng feigned composure, deciding that if this person really planned to kill him, he’d die giving him a few more slaps for satisfaction.
Chongjue methodically reached out to grasp the hand that had just struck him, his cool fingertips gently caressing the palm, reddened from excessive force.
Su Hansheng forcibly suppressed the urge to tremble.
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”
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”
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Su Hansheng said nothing.
Chongjue patiently said a few more conciliatory words. Seeing him ignore them, he could only go out and “obliterate” the white stones Su Hansheng detested before finally barely earning a glance from him.
After that, Chongjue didn’t visit the forbidden palace for several days.
Su Hansheng played go by himself, having the companion tree find small pebbles to use as white stones, arranging five-in-a-row patterns on the board.
Until several days later, when some Fuli clan members somehow burst into the forbidden palace about to take his life, Chongjue returned drenched in blood, cleanly slaughtering them all.
Though Chongjue usually appeared proper, when killing he showed absolutely no mercy.
Su Hansheng was too close—where he knelt was already a pool of blood, staining his snow-white robe hem. Several drops splattered on his cheek, slowly sliding down, leaving savage bloody trails like tears of blood.
Those beautiful yet languid eyes seemed to hold a pile of dead ashes.
***
“Xiaoxiao
”
Chongjue suddenly opened his eyes.
As the sun set, Wendao Academy’s Buddhist hall was bathed in warm orange light.
Su Hansheng sat on a cushion, propping his chin lazily as he played go according to a manual. Hearing this, he didn’t look back, saying casually, “Why call my childhood name again? Call me Yuanxiao
 ptui, Yuanqiu.”
Chongjue stared blankly at Su Hansheng’s back, raising his hand to rub his brow.
Recently, whenever he meditated, he’d unpredictably fall into sleep—sometimes dreamless all night, sometimes dreaming of past life events. His mental state was extremely unstable.
Chongjue fell silent. After Su Hansheng finished studying a move, he finally turned to look.
Earlier, Su Xuanlin had come and stuffed a sugar figurine in his mouth, which he was still sucking on. Seeing Chongjue’s frown, he asked in confusion, “What’s wrong? Why do you look so pale?”
Chongjue shook his head. “Nothing serious.”
Su Hansheng crawled over on his knees, reaching out to touch Chongjue’s forehead. “So hot! Are you really okay?”
Chongjue made an agreeable sound.
Kunlun Jue was different from ordinary people. With Chongjue so certain, Su Hansheng didn’t think much of it, obediently holding the sugar figurine as he turned to continue playing go. But just as he turned, Chongjue grabbed his waist and forcibly pulled him into his embrace.
Su Hansheng listened to the rapid heartbeat behind him, mumbling, “What’s wrong?”
Chongjue pressed his forehead against Su Hansheng’s nape, speaking softly.
“Don’t leave.”
Su Hansheng was baffled.
Why suddenly so clingy?
But Su Hansheng soon realized Chongjue wasn’t simply “clingy.”
He seemed to have awakened his past life’s twisted possessiveness—not only refusing to let Su Hansheng leave his side by more than three steps, but even hiding his form to stay near during sleep, bathing, and even classes.
Su Hansheng sat in Shangshan Hall, listening absentmindedly to the instructor’s lecture, constantly glancing sideways.
The small desk wasn’t large. Su Hansheng’s slender frame left plenty of room.
Now Chongjue squeezed in, eyes lowered as one hand casually flipped through a book while the other gripped Su Hansheng’s wrist, as if afraid he’d run.
Su Hansheng didn’t understand why Chongjue had this abnormal, anxious appearance, so he could only force himself to focus on the lecture.
Finally enduring until class ended, Su Hansheng glared at Chongjue, gathering his things to return to the Buddhist hall for a proper confrontation.
Yuan Qian poked him from behind, saying with a grin, “In a few days it’s the Lantern Festival! Young Lord, can you get permission that night to play with us at Ink Workshop?”
Su Hansheng froze.
Lantern Festival?
Su Hansheng looked at Chongjue beside him, seeming to understand something.
In his past life, the day he sacrificed himself to become a tree—it was the Lantern Festival.
##