Yu Bin. Immortal Of Water Land

Chapter 5: The Weight of What can't be undone

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows. Xian Chen sat on the floor beside her, close but not touching, as if afraid any contact might break the fragile air between them.

"No, I don't love you. I hate you. You killed my beloved master."

Her voice was sharp, each word a dagger. But behind them was pain—a sorrow so deep it clouded her judgment, poisoned her heart.

Xian Chen’s heart tightened at her words. He lowered his eyes, guilt washing over him once again.

Ah, how much he wished he could change the past. But how could he? The deed was already done. He wasn't the one who took their lives, but he had left. He had left her. And when she needed him most, he had been gone. He had always blamed himself. If only he had stayed that night instead of answering the urgent summons from the Heaven Realm. If he had stayed, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe her master would still be alive. Maybe she wouldn’t look at him now like he was a monster.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice barely audible, more to himself than to her.

She stared at him through blurry vision, hatred and love fighting a war inside her.

"I hate you."

The words left her mouth, but as soon as she said them, her soul trembled. Did she really hate him?

Before her was the man she had loved more than anything. The one who once made her heart flutter, the one she dreamed of when the nights were quiet. But now he was also the man she believed responsible for the death of everyone she held dear.

"I love you," he said softly.

His voice was full of sorrow. The way he said it—like it hurt to speak—tore something inside her.

Her chest tightened. It wasn't possible. If he loved her, how could he have done this?

"I hate you, Xian Chen," she said again, her voice trembling, weaker this time.

He pulled her gently into his arms, cradling her like something fragile. She didn’t resist. Maybe she wanted comfort. Maybe she wanted to feel what she once did.

"I love you, my princess. My Yu Bin. My life."

She sobbed. Her fists clung to his shirt, not pushing him away but holding him close, full of confusion and agony.

"I know. I’m sorry... I’m truly sorry."

"I hate you..."

"I know."

"I will never forgive you, Xian Chen."

He didn’t flinch at her words. He had heard them before. Each time, they pierced deeper. Yet he stayed.

"I will spend the rest of my life making it right," he said, kissing her forehead, tears quietly spilling from his eyes. "Even if you never forgive me."

Yu Bin grew quiet after a while, her sobs fading into silence. Her head rested against his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. She felt tired, so tired. The wine didn’t help—it made her heavy, sluggish, full of drifting memories.

"Xian Chen..."

"Hmm?"

"I love you," she whispered.

The words fell from her lips without thought. And strangely, they hurt more than the hate.

He tensed. A tear slid down his cheek.

"I love you too."

She blinked, staring at him, then shook her head.

"I hate you."

"I know. I’m sorry."

Was it worse that he didn’t deny it? That he accepted her hatred so easily? That he thought he deserved it?

But the truth was, he wasn’t guilty of the crime—just the absence. And she didn’t know that. Not yet.

They sat like that for a long time, their hearts heavy with unspoken truths and broken dreams.

Yu Bin eventually drifted into sleep on the couch, head leaning on his chest. Xian Chen held her like a treasure he once had but could never truly hold again.

As the night deepened, her breathing slowed. He gently carried her to her bed and tucked her in. She looked peaceful in sleep—at peace in a way she never was when awake. Her lips moved faintly, murmuring a name.

"Master... wait... don’t go."

Xian Chen froze.

He knew what this was. She was dreaming again. Of her past life. Of that night. Of her master. Her cries haunted him every time.

He sat at the edge of her bed, watching over her.

And then she mumbled, so faintly:

"It’s your fault... why didn’t you stop them..."

He closed his eyes, fists clenched. How he wished he could say the truth.

But he couldn’t. Not yet. The time wasn’t right. And maybe... maybe she wouldn’t believe him anyway.

He stood and turned off the light, his voice barely audible:

"I'm so sorry, Yu Bin... Please, one day, remember the truth."

Outside, the moonlight poured through the window. And inside, two souls lay burdened by love, grief, and a truth still buried too deep to reach.