Pei Yuhang had once asked his master if there was anything in this world that was truly destined to happen.
For example, were two people fated to meet, or to fall in love, or to hate one another, or to be tangled together for the rest of their lives, inseparable.
On a sweltering summer night, his master had fanned Pei Yuhang with a cattail fan and said, "In the grand scheme of things, there is indeed fate, but success still depends on human effort."
"As Cultivators, what we cultivate is a defiance of fate. So-called change exists for the very purpose of fighting against one's own destiny."
...
"You're not bad. I'll take you."
A slight smile played on Shang Miaoyan's red lips, as if she had finally found a toy that she genuinely adored at first sight.
She extended a slender, pale finger and poked frivolously at Pei Yuhang's face. As her fingertip traced his tense jawline, she deliberately pressed harder.
