#sorry op maybe ill continue this someday ehe

[yingleis]

I would like someone to write a story of when Zhu Yan comes back, he is his white-haired, younger self. Very mischevious and maybe accidently hurts one of the other, his memory of the previous life gone?

Thankyou 🤩

They were the only ones left– the mortals in their ragtag group of demon hunters, who by all means, had lower chances of surviving than the demons and demigod– and yet fate seemed to love playing its tricks.

(Fate really loved to laugh at them, it seemed).

—

“That’s a good blade,” a familiar voice says, it's owner materialising before Zhuo Yichen, who narrowly manages to change his trajectory before the Yunguang Jian can pierce through Zhao Yuanzhou again.

It can’t be, it has to be another demon, one that preyed on a mortals dreams and desires–

And yet they wouldn’t get Zhao Yuanzhou’s styling and hair so horribly wrong, if that were the case.

How dare this demon wear the face of his bear friend, how dare they steal his identity, how dare they cruelly appear before him with Zhao Yuanzhou’s face.

So Zhuo Yichen asks, levelling his blade to the demon’s throat. “Who are you?”

“Zhao Yuanzhou,” the demon says indifferently, instead watching his sword glow blue with a barely concealed interest. “Or, maybe you know me better as–”

“Zhu Yan.”

“Oh? So you do know me.”

“You’re not Zhu Yan or Zhao Yuanzhou, stop lying,” Zhuo Yichen bites back, but finds himself stopping short, unable to truly kill Zhao Yuanzhou.

(Even if it isn't Zhao Yuanzhou, as long as he wore that damned face–)

The demon raises a brow, visibly confused, but he manages to hide it smoothly. “Unable to kill me? I doubt the great Demon Hunting Bureau would be afraid of a small demon like me.”

This Zhao Yuanzhou is much more transparent, easier to read, but still just as infuriating and cocky as his Da Yao, it seemed.

“I won't indiscriminately kill demons,” Zhuo Yichen forces out. “You haven't done anything yet.”

“Haven't I?” Zhao Yuanzhou hums, as if deep in thought.

Zhuo Yichen frowns, a chill running down his back as he turns to check that the Demon Hunting Bureau was indeed still untouched.

“You–”

Zhao Yuanzhou is gone by the time he turns back.

—

He doesn't tell Wen Xiao about the strange encounter, for fear of getting her hopes up about the damned demon. She'd been heartbroken when he left, giving her a false hope would only break her heart once more.

(Besides, despite his deepest wishes, he knows that without an intact soul, it would be hard for a demon to regain their form in such a short period of time.

Da Yao or not, even Zhao Yuanzhou couldn't perform such a miracle).

But Zhao Yuanzhou had always liked to be contrary.

—

“You're a descendant of Bingyi,” Zhao Yuanzhou says, flying right at him with his umbrella. “And you've mastered the art of turning water into ice.”

Zhuo Yichen hadn't expected to see Zhao Yuanzhou again, hadn't prepared himself to meet the demon again, but he falls into step anyway, drawing water from the pond around them and shaping it into sharp, deadly icicles.

They meet in the middle, clashing in a burst of ice and malicious energy, sending leaves rustling and dust falling off the eaves of the Demon Hunting Bureau.

You taught me how to wield it, Zhuo Yichen thinks, searching Zhao Yuanzhou's face for any hint of recognition and stifling the hurt when he finds none.

He'd thought about it the night before– it was unlikely that a lesser demon would dare to steal the identity of a Great Demon, and Cheng Huang was well and truly gone– he'd done another thorough check, startling Wen Xiao when she found him haunting the records room in the middle of the night.

Besides, he'd felt it the first time.

The inner energy, the little mannerisms, it was all Zhao Yuanzhou, Zhu Yan himself.

Another well timed blast of energy catches him off guard, taking advantage of his momentary lapse in attention, and Zhuo Yichen goes flying, landing painfully on his back.

“Oh,” Zhao Yuanzhou says dumbly, as if he hadn't meant to hurt him. “No, wait. Why won't my one-word spell work on you?”

Zhuo Yichen barely registers the question, still attempting to make the ringing in his head stop– he'd hit his head as he fell, but it didn't seem like a concussion was likely.

“You,” he says, half a beat late as he wonders how to phrase it. Zhuo Yichen didn't like to lie, much less to those who he considered as his friends. “We've met before. I saved your life. You gave me immunity to your one-word spells.”

Zhao Yuanzhou looks disbelievingly from his Yunguang Jian to him, and back at his sword again. “A demon hunter saving the Da Yao Zhu Yan’s life?”

Well.

He had once thought it unlikely as well, but fate often worked in mysterious ways.

“Interesting,” Zhao Yuanzhou says, his lips quirking into a half-smile.