#big devil

Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang ❤️

"No Matter in which time or place, We will Always meet" 💓

Inspired by Cang Lan Jue Animation (Love Between Fairy and Devil Animation)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Because Xiao Lanhua taking all the liberties with his name and Dongfang Qingcang not minding even in the slightest bit is peak married couple behaviour

They become fugitives the moment the world realizes they are still alive.

The heavens call it a disruption of fate.

The immortals call it unfinished karma.

The Tongtian sect leader calls it a mistake he intends to correct.

Wanted notices spread across the Three Realms like falling ash—not with their faces, but with their names. Names that once shook mountains. Names that now have nowhere left to stand.

So they disappear.

They choose the Sui’an Void Realm—a place even the heavens hesitate to name aloud. A realm where laws bend, where power is watched, weighed, and taken the moment it dares to rise. A realm that once stripped the Devil of everything the instant he stepped inside it.

This time, he does not make that mistake.

Before crossing the threshold, Dongfang Qingcang seals his own power—layer by layer, willingly, ruthlessly. No flame. No blood-red aura. No divine resonance. He walks into the void as a man with an immortal body and nothing else.

It is a decision made without hesitation.

Because this time, he is not alone.

Orchid Immortal walks beside him, calm where the world expects fear. The naivety that once clung to her like dew is gone—burned away by five lifetimes, by sacrifice, by the long fall from Zhu Xian Tai. She knows what this realm does to gods. She knows what it would do to him.

And still, she does not stop him.

They are here for Peacock.

For the demon soldiers sealed and scattered.

For a promise made before the Three Lives Stone that neither death nor exile erased.

Elsewhere, Chenxiang fights a quieter war—misdirection, delays, false trails. He keeps the immortals chasing shadows. He keeps the Tongtian leader looking the wrong way. He buys them time with blood and brilliance, knowing exactly what it costs.

In the Sui’an Void Realm, power is dangerous.

So Dongfang Qingcang becomes something far more reckless.

He trusts her.

For the first time in all his existences, the Devil Lord walks into enemy territory powerless—relying not on strength, not on fear, but on the woman beside him to protect herself… and him.

And Orchid Immortal does not falter.

Because this time, she is not being protected.

She is standing guard.

------

The house is small—almost modest for beings who once shook the Three Realms.

Stone walls warmed by a low fire. A single window framing the Void Realm’s endless night, stars hanging like breath held too long. A bed nearby, untouched, its white covers folded neatly, waiting.

For now, they sit on the floor.

Orchid Immortal has conjured simple food—nothing grand, nothing ceremonial. Warm broth, steamed rice, a few vegetables glowing faintly with spiritual light. It tastes like safety. Like something made by someone who wants another person to live.

They eat in silence.

The fire crackles. Outside, the world is quiet in a way that feels temporary.

Dongfang Qingcang does not look at the food when he finally speaks.

“Why did you stab me?”

His voice is calm, too calm. The kind of calm that comes after devastation.

“Why did you go to Zhu Xian Tai,” he continues, eyes fixed on the dark beyond the window, “and jump… without even turning back?”

Orchid’s fingers tighten around her bowl.

“Did you ever think,” he asks softly now, “what it would do to me?”

She swallows. Her shoulders tremble once—then again.

“I did,” she says, barely above a whisper. “That’s why I did it.”

He turns to her then, sharp and sudden. “Then why choose death?”

Tears slip down her cheeks, silent but relentless.

She doesn’t wipe them away.

“Because I’m not the same anymore,” she says. “I’m not that little fairy who hid behind you and believed love could fix everything.”

She looks at her hands—steady, luminous, immortal.

“I’m Orchid Immortal now. I see the threads. I see what happens after I die.” Her voice breaks. “I saw you destroy the realms again and again. I saw everything burn because you couldn’t let me go.”

She shakes her head desperately.

“I didn’t want you to become that version of yourself again.”

Dongfang laughs—one sharp, broken sound.

“So you decided to leave me first.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy as fate.

“Our bond…” she says, forcing the words out, “has never been accepted. Not by heaven. Not by destiny. Not by anyone.”

She finally looks at him.

“I thought if I disappeared quietly, maybe… maybe the world would spare you.”

He stands.

The movement is sudden, controlled only by years of discipline. He looks down at her—not as a Devil Lord, not as a god—but as a man whose heart has been torn open too many times.

“We are husband and wife,” he says.

Each word lands like an oath renewed.

“Did you forget the vows we took beneath the Three Lives Stone?”

She doesn’t answer.

“We swore,” he continues, voice low and fierce, “never to abandon each other. Never to walk alone again.”

He steps closer.

“But you keep choosing to leave me.”

Orchid breaks.

“I don’t want to!” she cries, rising to her feet, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t want to die. Not this time. Not again.”

She presses her hands to her chest like it hurts to breathe.

“I want to stay with you. I want a life—just one—where we don’t have to sacrifice ourselves for everyone else. But if I stay… if I stay and die in front of you again—”

She can’t finish.

Dongfang reaches her then, hands firm on her shoulders, grounding her.

“Listen to me.”

She looks up, eyes red, shining.

“If you truly love me,” he says, “then do not doubt us.”

His forehead rests against hers.

“You are my wife. And I will protect you—not by letting you disappear, but by standing beside you.”

His voice hardens, ancient and unyielding.

“Even if the heavens oppose us. Even if destiny breaks. Even if the realms fall.”

A pause.

“I would choose you,” he says quietly, “every single time.”

Something inside her finally gives way.

Orchid throws her arms around him, clinging as if he is the last solid thing in existence.

“In this world,” she sobs into his chest, “no one wants me.”

His arms wrap around her instantly, unhesitating, crushing her close.

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Dongfang closes his eyes and holds her tighter.

“Then stay,” he murmurs into her hair.

“Stay with me.”

The fire crackles louder, as if agreeing.

Orchid slowly loosens her hold on him.

It takes effort—like stepping back from warmth into air—but she does it. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, inhales, steadies herself. When she looks up again, there’s a softness in her eyes now, something calmer… older.

“We’ve been married for so long,” she says quietly, almost to herself, “and yet we didn’t remember it until now.”

Dongfang gives a small, rueful breath. “Yes.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “And we still managed to bicker like enemies.”

She lets out a fragile laugh. The sound surprises them both.

Then she tilts her head, studying him—really studying him, the way one does only when the world has finally slowed down.

“There’s something we never had,” she says.

He raises an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“Our wedding night.”

The words hang between them, light but unmistakable.

Dongfang freezes—not dramatically, not stiffly, but in genuine surprise. For someone who has faced gods, annihilated armies, and shattered destinies, this is… unexpected.

He blinks once. “Are you certain?”

A pause, then—almost teasing, almost careful—“Because the last time you accidentally saw me bathing, you wanted your eyes to reincarnate.”

She flushes instantly.

“That was different,” she mutters, half hiding her face. “You were a stranger then. And I was… inexperienced.”

She peeks at him through her fingers, cheeks still warm.

“But you aren’t a stranger anymore,” she continues, voice steadier now. “You never really were. I’ve walked through worlds with you. Lived inside your heartbeat. Died and returned because of you.”

Her hand drops to her side.

“So I don’t want to turn away anymore.”

Dongfang doesn’t respond with words.

Instead, he steps forward and, in one smooth motion, lifts her into his arms.

She gasps—not in fear, just surprise—and instinctively curls closer, one arm around his neck. He carries her as though she weighs nothing, as though this has always been where she belongs.

He sets her down gently on the bed.

Not rushed. Not rough. Almost reverent.

The firelight dances across the room, turning shadows soft and gold. For a moment, neither of them moves.

Dongfang looks at her—really looks. Not as a demon lord, not as a weapon, not as someone defying fate—but as a man standing before his wife.

“I will not take a single step you do not wish me to,” he says quietly. “Not now. Not ever.”

Orchid reaches out, fingers brushing his sleeve, grounding herself in the reality of him.

“I know,” she says. “That’s why I’m not afraid.”

The bed is warm, lit by the quiet glow of the fire. For a moment, he simply looks at her—really looks—then reaches behind him and lets the dark wing-cape fall away. It pools on the floor like shed night.

He removes his boots, then his gloves, each motion unhurried, deliberate. When he loosens his robe and lets it slip from his shoulders, the firelight catches on his skin, softening the sharp lines she has always known.

Orchid feels her breath hitch.

She doesn’t turn away this time.

Instead, she watches him—takes him in properly for the first time—and realizes something simple and overwhelming all at once: he is beautiful. Not in the terrifying, distant way of legends, but in a way that makes her chest feel too small to hold everything she’s feeling.

Dongfang notices the way her eyes linger. The faint pink rising in her cheeks.

He steps closer.

When his fingers touch the edge of her green robe, he pauses—waiting. Only when she doesn’t pull back does he gently ease it away, leaving her wrapped in soft layers and nerves.

He leans over her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of him.

“I will be gentle,” he says quietly.

She nods.

And when he kisses her, it’s slow—so slow it feels like time has finally decided to be kind. There is no urgency, no claiming. Just presence. Just now.

He unfastens the small clips in her hair one by one, setting them aside with care, as though each is something he might need to remember later. Her hair spills free, dark against the pillow.

His lips trace her temple, her cheek, her collarbone—nothing rushed, nothing taken. Orchid has never felt anything like this. Her fingers curl into the sheets as her breathing grows uneven, and she closes her eyes, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar softness of it all.

Dongfang watches her face—the flutter of lashes, the slight parting of her lips—and smiles to himself.

Then, when her last layer loosens and she instinctively covers herself, flustered and uncertain, he stops immediately.

Her voice is small. “I’m not… attractive. You said once that I wasn’t. That I was flat and unappealing.”

She can barely finish the sentence.

Dongfang’s expression changes at once—not amused, not impatient—just quietly sincere. He bends and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I said that because I was afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of what I felt for you. Everyone else saw it so easily, and I couldn’t bear it. So I denied it. Even to myself.”

He lifts her hand away, not forcing—just inviting—and meets her eyes.

“But listen to me now, Xiao Lanhua. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. In any lifetime. I want nothing but you.”

The words settle into her like warmth.

Her fear loosens.

Orchid’s hands rise, cupping his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones as she draws him down to her. This time, she kisses him first—tentative but certain.

Dongfang exhales softly against her lips, surrendering to the moment as if nothing else exists.

Outside, the Void Realm remains silent.

Inside, two souls—long denied, long separated—finally choose each other without hesitation.

And for the first time, there is no destiny waiting to tear them apart.

Only this.

-------

Dongfang feels the way her body tenses beneath him.

The way her fingers clutch at his shoulders, the sharp intake of breath she tries—and fails—to hide. A single tear slips from the corner of her eye, warm against her flushed skin.

He stops at once.

“Xiao Lanhua,” he murmurs, concern threading his voice. “Are you alright?”

She nods, though her voice wavers. “I… I am. It just feels strange. A little uncomfortable.”

She has never known this closeness before. Never crossed this threshold. Instinctively, she clings to him, grounding herself in the steady weight of his presence.

Dongfang cups her face with both hands, thumbs brushing away her tears.

“Look at me,” he says softly.

She does.

“Breathe,” he tells her, forehead resting against hers. “I’m here. I will be slow. Just stay with me.”

His calm steadiness anchors her. She matches her breathing to his, eyes never leaving his. Gradually, the tension eases, replaced by something unfamiliar yet warm—something that feels like belonging.

Understanding dawns on her then.

So this is why.

Why the bond between husband and wife is spoken of with such reverence. Why it is said to be sacred. This closeness isn’t about desire alone—it is about trust, about choosing each other completely.

Dongfang threads their fingers together, holding her hands firmly, reassuringly. When he kisses her again, it’s deeper now—not rushed, but full of intent. Full of promise.

They move together, finding a rhythm that belongs only to them.

His restraint never falters. Even when emotion overtakes him, even when his breath grows uneven, his touch remains careful—protective. Orchid feels the contrast of his strength and gentleness all at once, and it makes her heart ache.

Her fingers curl against his back, nails tracing faint lines as she clings to him, unafraid.

The world outside the window fades.

There are no past lives here. No wars, no fate, no watching eyes. Only two souls finally meeting without barriers, without fear.

The night itself seems to soften around them—quiet, warm, almost approving—as if bearing witness to a union long delayed.

They make up for the lifetimes stolen from them. For every separation. For every moment they were forced apart.

And when dawn eventually comes, it will find them not as fugitives, not as cursed beings—

But as husband and wife, finally whole.

------

Morning comes quietly.

Dongfang wakes first—not because of habit, but because his heart won’t stop noticing her.

She is still wrapped around him, bare beneath the thin blanket he had drawn over them with a thought. Her cheek rests against his chest, right over his heart, rising and falling with his breath. One of her legs is loosely hooked over his, as if even sleep couldn’t convince her to let go. Her hair spills across his shoulder, tickling his jaw, her warmth pressed so close that he can feel every small movement she makes.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move.

He’s afraid that if he does, the world will remember to intrude.

He lifts a hand slowly and brushes his knuckles along her arm, then her back—gentle, almost reverent. She stirs at the touch, tightening her hold instinctively, as if claiming him again.

A corner of his mouth lifts.

He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Soft. Lingering.

“Xiao Lanhua,” he murmurs.

She makes a small sound in her throat and shifts, blinking awake. Her eyes are heavy, unfocused, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep. When she realizes where she is—who she’s holding—her fingers curl against his skin again.

“Big Devil...You’re awake…” she says quietly.

He hums in response, his hand still tracing slow, absent patterns along her back. “Did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, then winces a little as she tries to move. He feels it immediately.

His hand stills. “Does it hurt?”

She hesitates, then nods, cheeks flushing. “A little… but not in a bad way. Just… sore.”

He exhales softly, his brow knitting for half a second before he presses another kiss to her hair. “I should have been more careful.”

She lifts her head slightly to look at him, eyes still hazy but sincere. “You were gentle. I just… wasn’t used to it.”

There’s a pause.

Then, quieter, almost shy: “Did I… do alright?”

The question catches him off guard.

His red eyes soften instantly.

He lifts her chin with two fingers so she has to look at him. “Xiao Lanhua,” he says, voice low and steady, “you were perfect.”

Her lips part slightly. “Really?”

He leans down and kisses her—not deep, not urgent—just warm and reassuring. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against hers.

“You didn’t need to know anything,” he adds. “You only needed to be with me.”

Her face heats at his words, and she tries to hide it by tucking closer against him again. “I was worried you’d think I was clumsy…”

A quiet chuckle leaves him—rare, genuine.

He brushes her hair back and murmurs, “If you were clumsy, then so was I. But…” his thumb traces the curve of her shoulder, unhurried, “…we can always improve.”

She freezes.

Then looks up at him again.

“You mean—”

His eyes glint with amusement. “We have time.”

Her face turns completely red.

She buries it against his chest with a small, flustered sound. “Dongfang Qingcang!”

His laughter is barely audible, but it vibrates beneath her cheek. He tightens the blanket around them with a thought and wraps an arm securely around her.

“Sleep a little longer,” he says softly. “The world can wait.”

And for once— it does.

🌷⚜️

----------------

Note:

I wrote this because the universe clearly refuses to let these two rest, so I took matters into my own hands.

Five lifetimes. Prison wedding. Memory wipes. Zhu Xian Tai trauma.

And still no peaceful night together?? Absolutely not.

This is my fan-delulu coping mechanism while waiting for Season 3.

Until the canon gives them happiness, I will ✨provide✨ it myself.

Also yes—I’m a fan. Yes—I’m impatient. Yes—I’m waiting for Season 3 like it owes me money.

If this helped you survive the cliffhanger even a little, then my job is done. 😌🌙

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED