CHAPTER 737: *DARK ENERGY: YANYAN* (1)

Dark energy.

The primordial origin of all forms.

Older than Aether.

Beyond Soul, Spirit, Law, or Flame.

It couldn’t be refined.

It couldn’t be understood.

And because of that... she would never reach Transcendence.

To transcend was to understand one’s element

To tame it.

But the thing inside her was untamable.

A wild, eternal current that simply existed.

Wang Xiao didn’t fear many things.

But even he wasn’t sure what would happen if her dark energy collided with his dark matter in an act of intimacy.

Two primal forces, meant to shape existence, not each other.

He had no data.

No historical record.

No precedent.

She might be the first living being in all creation made partially of dark energy.

She wasn’t born like this out of nature.

She was created like this out of necessity.

Yanyan knew all this.

That’s why she had no shame around him.

It wasn’t seduction.

It was relief.

Her body was constantly unstable, tingling, overheated, aching with an internal tension that no one could understand.

Bright light irritated her. Sunlight burned... Even Aether felt wrong.

She lived like a vampire, hiding in her underground chamber, and only Wang Xiao could accompany her there for long.

He was the only one who didn’t make her worse.

In fact...

When she drew near him, her body stabilized.

The unbearable tingling quieted, the heat lessened.

The closer she was, the calmer she felt.

But that comfort came at a cost.

It caused misunderstandings.

Her mother, Amelia, scolded her constantly.

"Have some restraint! You’re only six!"

Told her to be restrained, to act like a proper daughter.

But how could Amelia understand?

She didn’t feel this curse in her flesh.

Didn’t feel the trembling heat when Wang Xiao left her side for too long.

Didn’t know what it was like to be half-mad from stillness.

Yanyan never told her.

What was the point?

So she kept doing what she had to.

Clinging to Wang Xiao...

Lying next to him, naked...

Breathing him in like a drug...

She buried herself in his robes, curled against his chest, slept nude at his side, and breathed quietly just to feel his presence regulate her own body.

Amelia saw it all.

And she drew her own conclusions.

She thought Wang Xiao had corrupted her daughter too early... Tainting her before she could grow.

She gave him glares.

She gave Yanyan lectures.

Until the day Yanyan stopped pretending to care.

"At least wait until you’re older," Amelia had begged once.

Yanyan had refused.

That was the final break.

Neither mother nor daughter saw eye to eye again after that.

The daughter who never left the darkness.

The mother who couldn’t pull her out.

They still spoke.

But not as mother and daughter.

More like strangers trapped in the same house.

Amelia eventually accepted the strangeness of her growing child, but acceptance didn’t mean affection.

Especially when it came to Yanyan’s attachment to Wang Xiao.

She resented it.

But neither of them cared.

And so Amelia became what all bitter, powerless women become when faced with the inevitable... A disgruntled old lady.

Muttering to herself in corridors no one else walked.

"Dad... can I hug you?"

Yanyan’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Wang Xiao glanced at her but didn’t speak.

He simply turned his eyes back to the sky and gave a slight nod.

She took it as permission.

Without delay, she leaned over, settling herself atop him, pressing her body gently down until her face rested against his chest.

With a small motion, she slipped open the front of his robe, just enough to feel the heat of his bare chest against her cheek.

The sky above was silent.

Emotionless.

Timeless.

But beneath it, something very human stirred.

Wang Xiao’s eyes flickered, his hand rose, first to her back, tracing slow lines up her spine, then to her thin willow like waist, delicate and soft beneath the cloth.

He pinched lightly.

She hissed.

"Mm."

She didn’t pull away.

His hands continued downward, finally resting on the top of her perky buttocks, one palm on each side.

He squeezed gently, rhythmically.

There was only one thin veil of silky black fabric between them, barely a barrier.

Yet he still felt the burning heat of her skin, the shape of her body, the slight tremble in her toes.

She exhaled softly, not in surprise, but in quiet satisfaction.

Wang Xiao’s fingers moved in lazy circles, rubbing the soft flesh as if sculpting a memory.

Her body twitched.

She lifted her head, half-lidded eyes gazing at him with a slow, teasing smile.

"You know... fixing things with mother would’ve been easy," she said, tone casual, "Just explain the instability in my body. As long as she’s not completely stupid, she’d understand."

Wang Xiao raised a brow.

"You think she’d accept that explanation? You, sleeping naked beside me daily, glued to me like a clingy little ghost?"

Yanyan blinked.

"Would’ve been better than letting her believe you corrupted me."

He nodded.

"...Maybe."

The answer was hollow, neither of them believed it.

A moment of silence passed. The stars above shimmered faintly, watching, but saying nothing.

Then, Yanyan smirked.

"Daddy..." she whispered, lips curving upwards, "You just didn’t want the tofu to escape once it reached your lips, did you?"

Wang Xiao’s eyes narrowed, he looked down at her, not amused.

She giggled. "Why so serious...?"

Then she took his wrist. Slowly, deliberately.

Guiding it under her cloth, to the warm skin beneath.

"I’m not made of glass." Her voice was low, breath trembling.

"Touch me... like I’m yours."

Her fingers moved behind her back, grabbing his wrist, his large, warm hand, and guided it slowly beneath her thin cloth.

There, under that sliver of silk, his palm met bare skin.

Soft, warm and real flesh.

She wasn’t wearing anything beneath.

Her breath fastened as his fingers slid lower, pressing gently into the valley of her bare buttocks.

She didn’t look away.

Her crimson eyes stared into his, slowly misting over.

"Dad," She said again, this time quieter "...this world isn’t ours... We saw it begin. We saw the slaves land."

Her voice cracked just slightly, not quite crying, but close.

"Then where do we come from?"

She looked at him. Her eyes weren’t teasing now. "What’s the real world we belong to?"

Wang Xiao’s eyes remained on the sky. "It doesn’t matter."

"I see..." She finally rested her head against his shoulder. "So if even our origins don’t matter, " She pressed closer, her body trembling faintly as her voice grew hoarse.

"...why do you still treat the little dark dust in my body like it’s a sin?"

Her eyes shone.

"Do you not take me as your blood?"

Droplets of crystalline tears slid silently from her eyes, landing upon his shoulder as she kept her head rested against it. With each blink, they stuck beautifully to her long, dark lashes.

Wang Xiao was surprised, this girl rarely cried.

But perhaps, it was inevitable.

Loneliness had a way of cracking even the strongest hearts. And in this strange, prehistoric land, stripped of light, of warmth, deprived of his touch, she had nothing left to stay to. Even the last straw of closeness had drifted, leaving her adrift.

It was simply solitude.

A kind so deep, so absolute, that only a handful of beings in existence could ever survive it with peace in their hearts.

To him, it had only been a thousand years.

To her, it was a thousand years.

He lifted his hand, gently raising her face.

The pale skin of a woman who had never left her palace, untouched by sun, untouched by time.

Her tear-stained eyes shimmered with sorrow, tinged in crimson, framed by long, lustrous black hair like threads of midnight silk.

This girl had given herself to him. Entirely.

Her lips trembled... Was she being excessive?

Maybe.

But when his hand cupped her cheek, she leaned forward.

And when her face neared his, close enough to taste his breath, she couldn’t hold back.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his.

Their lips seared.

What was cold, turned hot, her plump red lips, once trembling, bloomed into crimson heat.

Blood-red, and alive.

Her hands trembled slightly, but her throat moved, swallowing down nerves. His did too.

And in that moment, it tasted like wine aged in darkness, sweet and bitter, bold and aching.

Aroma, breath, and pressure.

Their lips parted and met again, clumsily, hungrily, both holding each other’s face like they were melting into one.

Yanyan had already forgotten the last time she kissed him. But now, driven by the need clawing through her body, she thrust her tongue into his mouth.

Hot, and desperate.

No elegance... No rhythm.

Their teeth grazed, tongues collided, lips sucked and slid.

It was messy. Sticky, and deep.

"mmh!"

The sound tore out of her throat, helpless and high, as if even she didn’t expect the sheer heat of it.

Her body started to heat rapidly, as if set off on fire.

She moaned again.

"Hh-haah... mmn..."

The kiss grew wilder, and messier.

Her saliva smeared across his lips, down his chin, mixing with tears she didn’t wipe away.

Her tongue curled, tasting him like she was starved, her hips pressing down as her body reacted without her permission.

"Mmn—hahh—D-Dad—"

She gasped his name between kisses, sobbing breaths escaping every time their mouths broke apart for air.

"haaah! More...!" she whimpered, her lips brushing his again, "Please...just let me... I need this—!"

She kissed him harder, forcing his mouth open again, pushing deeper like she wanted to drown inside him.

Her thighs clenched around his waist, grinding instinctively.

The noises came without shame, her voice cracking with each broken gasp.

"Mmn...! Don’t push me away..." she moaned into his mouth, "I’m already yours.. have been since the moment I started breathing..."

"Let me be yours... even if I burn."