Shi Qingxuan diaries: ADVENTURES OF MING YI AND I

This began-was supposed to begin-as a cold, precise record of my revenge.

A logbook.
An archive of divine injustices.
A place to collect data. Keep focus. Remember what they did to me.

And it was, at first.
Page one? Names, punishments, strategic updates.
Page two? Curses, sightings, celestial movement.
Page three?

He appeared.
Shi Qingxuan.

Wind Master. Laughter incarnate. Trouble on legs. The only person in three realms who could walk directly into a deadly trap and call it a picnic.

He should've been a minor note. A background risk. Collateral, if necessary.
But instead he barged into my plans, smiled at me, and then never left.

And now this "vengeance log" is a disaster.

Every page since his arrival is just:
"Saw him trip over a cat. Tried not to laugh. Failed."
"He brought me steamed buns. Said I 'looked peckish.' Noted."
"Touched my sleeve. Unclear if intentional. I am compromised."
It's not even revenge anymore. It's... feelings.
Messy ones. Warm ones. The kind that make my hands shake and my curses misfire.

I'm going to burn this entire book.

But not yet.

Because tomorrow we're going to the market and he wants to buy hairpins "for disguises."
He'll drag me into it. I'll let him. And I'll write it down like a fool.

So here it is:

A failed vengeance log.
A war journal turned wind-stained diary.
A place to keep the pieces of myself I thought I'd buried under salt and blood.

I never meant to feel again.
And now I can't stop.

-He Xuan