Chapter 200: I Am Lin Fan (Part III)

"Do you think I resemble someone you know?"

Cuier was stunned, and the image of that unserious Young Lord who always found opportunities to take advantage of her—Lin Fan—instantly flashed through her mind.

She subconsciously frowned, her expression complex, but she quickly shook her head vigorously, casting the thought aside.

"Young Master Bai, you are a gentleman of modest virtue, unlike the person I know…"

Before she could finish, Lin Fan suddenly reached out and grabbed her hands with a swift, unexpected motion.

Cuier felt a surge of warmth and felt as if her entire being had been frozen in place; her heart rate accelerated, and a flush immediately rose to her cheeks.

"You…" She tried to break free, only to find that Lin Fan's grip was as steady as an iron hoop; she couldn't escape at all.

Lin Fan chuckled, a teasing glint in his eyes: "What? If I stop teasing you, are you not used to it instead?"

Cuier bit her lip, her face full of shy annoyance, her chest heaving. She knew this man in front of her was too familiar, so familiar that her heart was in chaos.

Lin Fan's gaze swept over her brows and eyes, and he said in a low voice: "How about now?"

He slowly let go, and Cuier hurriedly stepped back, her hand pressing tightly against her chest, looking at him with eyes mixed with confusion and some indescribable emotion.

"You… you really do resemble someone I know, my Young Lord… we used to call him the 'Life-Accompanying Master'."

Lin Fan chuckled and slowly reached out, first removing his dark iron mask, then peeling off the thousand appearance mask.

As the masks were removed, the face that Cuier had longed for day and night clearly came into view.

She widened her eyes, stunned and dumbfounded, as if she had lost the ability to speak.

"Young Lord?! Aren't you already… already…"

"Dead?" Lin Fan smiled. "Your Young Lord is not that easy to kill."

Cuier was almost choking, her voice trembling: "But… but I clearly buried you with my own hands…"

Lin Fan paused: "You buried me yourself? With so many brothers in the Black Wind Stronghold, why did they let you do it?"

Cuier's expression turned despondent: "They said you died a pathetic death and couldn't be buried in the ancestral grave, that you had to be cremated. It was the Young Lady and I who secretly buried you."

"Young Lady?" Lin Fan raised an eyebrow. "Since when did I have a Young Lady? Is it… Meng Li?"

Cuier nodded gently: "Yes, she never objected, nor did she ever deny it. We all tacitly accepted it."

Lin Fan was silent for a moment, then sighed softly: "She accepted it quite naturally, then."

While speaking, Cuier took out an item meticulously wrapped from her Storage Pouch. Opening the layers, it was the long-lost mobile phone of Lin Fan.

"I found it when I buried you. It was very fun, so I kept it to play with… but I accidentally turned it off."

Lin Fan laughed, taking the phone: "So it was you, little thief, who stole my phone."

Cuier lowered her head, slightly shy: "I'm sorry, Young Lord, I just… couldn't bear to throw it away."

Lin Fan's gaze was gentle. He tapped the screen with his fingertip, unlocked the identity lock, re-entered Cuier's data, and then returned the phone to her: "It belongs to you now, and it will never power off again."

Cuier took it in a daze, just about to say thank you, when she was suddenly scooped up by Lin Fan.

"Young Lord?!"

"Call me by my name." Lin Fan whispered with a smile, tapped his feet, and flashed into the room, gently placing her on the elegant bed.

Cuier's heart was beating fast, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes flickered uncertainly.

Lin Fan stared at her, his eyes full of tenderness. This girl, who he used to tease, had now become the most inseparable affection in his heart.

He lowered his head and gently kissed her lips.

Cuier's body trembled, but she soon closed her eyes and quietly responded.

This time, he was no longer that overbearing and dominant master, but asked softly: "Cuier, are you willing?"

Cuier nodded gently, her voice barely audible: "I am willing."

The chaos and sadness of the past seemed to have turned into the warmth on her lips at this moment.

She once hated his dominance, which had possessed everything of hers, but the moment Lin Fan returned from the dead and stood before her again, she realized that she had long ago given him her heart.

The night was deep. Cuier lay on the bed, soft and weak, as if she had had a long, gentle dream.

She closed her eyes quietly, feeling the lingering warmth beside her, her heart rising and falling.

Lin Fan got up gently, his movements extremely light, for fear of waking her.

He pulled over some soft clothing from the side and carefully covered her with it, shielding her fair shoulders and neck.

"Cuier, I must go find the Young Lady. I want her to know that I have returned."

Cuier opened her eyes and said softly: "Go. She will definitely… be very happy."

Lin Fan tidied his clothes and turned to leave. His figure drifted further and further away, swallowed by the night at the door.

Cuier looked in the direction where he disappeared, a smile in her eyes. She knew that from now on, she was no longer just the little maid who grew up with him, but… a woman who could stand by his side.

Deep within the Xuanyin Qin Sect, at Yueyin Palace.

Mist curled, ancient pines stood tall, water gurgled, and birds chirped leisurely; heaven and earth seemed to be imbued with a sense of tranquility untainted by the mundane world.

Amidst the lakes and mountains, a secluded courtyard was quietly hidden behind a bamboo grove. Meng Li, dressed in plain white, walked in slowly.

Her features were delicate and soft, her brows like distant mountains, her eyes like autumn waters; within her cold and aloof demeanor, there was a faint hint of tenderness.

She walked lightly into the pavilion, brewed a pot of fragrant tea, held the cup with slender fingers, and sipped the tea quietly, yet there was a hint of melancholy in her eyes.

Just at this moment, a familiar aura quietly approached.

She lifted her eyes to look, only to see a figure in white slowly emerging from the shadows of the flowers. Beneath the dark iron mask, his temperament was steady and cold, giving rise to a sense of familiarity.

Meng Li was slightly stunned and bowed gently: "Greetings, Ancestor."

Lin Fan smiled faintly and gestured with his hand: "No need for formalities. Are you… still looking for Lin Fan?"

Meng Li's heart jolted, her voice slightly urgent: "I am. Please, Ancestor, enlighten me."

Lin Fan nodded, briefly explained the previous explanation, and then slowly removed his mask.

Meng Li's body trembled instantly. The face before her was one she knew incomparably well.

Lin Fan. Her Young Lord.

At that moment, her throat tightened, but she couldn't speak for a long time.

Emotions surged, but they had been suppressed and dissolved layer by layer during her two years of cultivation.

She looked at Lin Fan quietly. After a long while, she said in a low voice: "It is good that you are alive."

The tone was light, but it contained an emotion restrained to the extreme.

Lin Fan looked at her, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.

She had changed; she had become more beautiful, more serene, and more distant.

He knew that the emotion of the past was no longer something the Meng Li of back then—warm and direct—could bear.

In her heart, there was the world, there was cultivation, there were countless sentient beings… but there was no longer the obsession she once had for him.

He was silent for a long while, then slightly cupped his fists, and said softly: "Lin will take his leave."