My First Love Finally Chose Me

My First Love Finally Chose Me cover

My First Love Finally Chose Me

He actually followed me here—then looked at me like I was some kind of homewrecker…

— "A celestial being can fall in love?"

I smiled at the little flower spirit sprawled on the flagstone. A peach blossom trembled and drifted into my palm; I gave it a soft puff of air. "Yes. Why wouldn’t I?"

"Then, Sister Celeste, have you ever felt love?"

The little flower spirit propped herself up, curious, eyes on me.

I didn’t answer. I simply closed my eyes.

Can I say that?

If I admitted I once—well—messed with the Crown Prince, wouldn’t thunderbolts and lightning bolts come chasing after me?

It’s not entirely my fault. Back when I hadn’t ascended to being a lord yet, when I was still down in the mortal world enduring my tribulation, I ran into the little prince who’d come down to gain life experience.

Fine—I’ll admit it, I was the one who started poking him. But who could blame me when that brat frowned and called me a beggar?

The kid was small and perfect like a porcelain doll. Even with cold airs around him, he was adorable in every way. Maybe he hadn’t slept well the night before—one tuft of hair stuck up.

Who wouldn’t laugh at that?

I laughed out loud.

So he chased me around and beat me for an entire afternoon.

Thinking back now, that little guy probably nearly cried from being so mad.

The young prince was born into a good family in the mortal realm—instantly a human crown prince—whereas I was down there to undergo my tribulation and ascend. My station simply couldn’t compete with his glittering one. The brighter he was, the more I felt small.

But I genuinely didn’t know the child in front of me was also a celestial being. I didn’t expect that.

I assumed he was naive. I used sweet talk to trick him into being my little lackey—into stealing roast chicken for me. I took advantage of him for a long time, proud of being a celestial.

He’d been quiet since childhood and never resisted. No—he couldn’t resist. He couldn’t beat me; he couldn’t shout me down. He just endured.

When Young Adrian came of age, I even took advantage of him while drunk.

And then?

Then I fled right after my tribulation and ascended. I didn’t have time to say goodbye; just poof—I became a lord.

Why did I only realize later that the current Emperor was that young prince? Because when the Crown Prince returned from his life experience, I went to greet him.

When mortals ascend to immortality, a lord must preside—just in case the newly ascended one can’t control their power and shakes the heavens apart. And this time it was the Crown Prince of the celestial realm—the future emperor—returning.

I floated in on a cloud to the terrace, but when I saw the face through the mist, I didn’t hesitate: I bailed.

That sullen face. That expression like everyone owed him a fortune. It had to be the little prince I used to bully! I rushed to the Western Sea and begged the Queen Mother West to talk with me through the night.

Well, she didn’t exactly volunteer for the late-night chat.

Queen Mother West sat there with her hair a mess, looking at me like a martyr. “Lord Rowan, are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

I downed a gulp of wine and shook my head hard. “Absolutely not! I remember that brat perfectly!”

She performed a little charm: her hair smoothed itself into a neat bun. She fussed and asked, “Then why run? You’re a lord—are you afraid of one newly ascended immortal?”

I stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

Her face shifted oddly, and she hesitated. “Today… is it the Crown Prince’s return?”

I kept staring.

She stood up like she was saying farewell to life itself. “Lord Rowan! I have things to do! I’m leaving now—pretend you don’t know me!”

I grabbed the hem of her robe, almost crying, “Don’t go! Help me!”

She started swearing at me, “Are you sane? Why would you mess with the Crown Prince? Why can’t you just go through your tribulation in peace?”

I pouted. “I didn’t know that the mortal crown prince was the future emperor…”

She sat, expressionless, cracked a seed between her teeth, and chastised me. “You brought this on yourself. Work out how long you bullied him down there—ten years? More? Think about how proud you felt when you first ascended. Rowan, this is karma.”

I tried to defend myself. “It wasn’t that long… The Crown Prince shouldn’t hold grudges, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “You never know. You flirt with someone, you vanish without a word when you ascend—of course anyone would be angry.”

I sighed, but then she said something that sparked hope.

“Also, your mortal appearance is different from your lordly form. He might not recognize you.”

My heart sank back down into my stomach.

Right! In the mortal world I’d been wearing a body I’d picked at random—a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl’s frame. Now I was different. I touched my face, then my chest, and smiled.

Queen Mother West scooted her stool further away, disgusted.

Now I’m an adult woman—breasts where they should be, a mature face.

So why run?

She sighed at me, turned, and vanished, but not before warning, “Don’t be too careless. You bullied him for so long—if you slip up, expect revenge from the Crown Prince.”

Got it. Got it.

So the plan was obvious: don’t let the Crown Prince recognize me.

I swallowed the last of my wine and laughed.

I was sure I didn’t weigh so heavily in his memory. Besides, memories of mortals who return from life experience are usually wiped by Myrna.

Yes… probably…

When I returned to my palace, the person sitting inside nearly froze my ankles.

Isn’t that the Crown Prince who just ascended?

He really was handsome.

It was that face that had gotten me drunk and undressing him in the mortal world.

I composed my expression, floated in with lordly grace, and watched the man turn toward me and bow.

His voice was cool and clear. “Adrian Morrow pays respects to Lord Rowan.”

Oh right—I outrank this Crown Prince now. I’m a newly promoted lord; him coming to pay respects was only proper.

I raised a hand, forcing my voice steady. “Crown Prince, no need for such ceremony. I left earlier because something unresolved occurred. I hope the Crown Prince won’t hold it against me.”

Adrian straightened and fixed his gaze on me.

I felt weak—what was he staring me down for? Trying to intimidate me? Please.

While Adrian and I stared each other down, a commotion started behind us.

My little immortal ward Finn barreled in carrying two jars of wine. “Lord Rowan! Lord Rowan! Queen Mother West sent two jars—saying you should be careful!”

I shut my eyes. Careful? As if that’s needed—I’m always careful! Finn noticed Adrian in the palace and immediately sobered, kneeling properly instead of joking about safety anymore.

By the way, Adrian was taller than me.

He wore a black-and-gold brocade robe with embroidered dragons and phoenixes, hair tied with a black jade crown—handsome, sharp, with a casual charm. Those eyes staring at me made me tremble a little.

“Lord Rowan, did you just return from your tribulation recently?” Adrian asked suddenly, making me lurch.

I feigned ignorance. “Crown Prince must be mistaken. I ascended long ago; I’ve been in seclusion cultivating and only recently returned to register at the court.”

“Is that so?” He seemed to think something over, then bowed again. “If Lord Rowan intends to celebrate with the immortal ward, I will not disturb. The invitation for the Lotus Banquet will be sent to your residence.”

When he left, I finally exhaled. Finn scrambled up and asked, “Lord Rowan, why did the Crown Prince come to your palace instead of the main hall?”

I snatched the wine from Finn and huffed, “How should I know? Let’s go.”

Finn called after me, “Lord Rowan! Where are you going?!”

“To the Underrealm!”

I barreled into the Underrealm without caring about the kneeling lesser spirits and headed straight for the Nether Road.

“Myrna!”

I kicked open the door to the Three Paths Inn, startling the four ghosts who’d been playing cards.

Well, four spirits, actually.

Myrna—small, pretty—had lots of talismans stuck on her face. She ran over like I was a savior and immediately wailed, “Lord Rowan! Lend me money!”

My mouth twitched. “How much?”

“Three million!”

“Are you robbing me?!”

I shoved her aside.

She pulled off the talismans, pouted, and asked, “Why are you in the Underrealm? I thought the King of Hell just finished his performance?”

“I’m not here for theater.” I shot a look at the Grim Wardens to shoo them out.

They understood and dragged the Registrar, who was clamming up about collecting money, out with them.

Myrna swallowed and clutched her clothes, nervous. “May I ask why you came to the Three Paths Inn?”

I grinned and grabbed her little pigtail. “Tell me—did you wipe the Crown Prince’s memories when he returned from his life experience?”

Myrna frowned. “Why is everyone asking that today?”

“Who else asked?”

“The Crown Prince.”

Myrna looked innocent. “He asked me for the registry. Seemed like he was looking for someone.”

I panicked and grabbed her hair harder. “Did you give it to him?!”

She slapped my hand with a pitiful face. “Ow, ow! Of course not! It’s the emperor’s rule. Only administrators and the emperor and the King of Hell can see the registry. No one else is allowed!”

I relaxed, then seized her pigtail again. “But did you restore—or not—the Crown Prince’s mortal memories?”

Myrna winced and thought. “Maybe?”

“You ‘maybe’?” I tightened my grip.

She spilled it. “Lord Rowan, I don’t know! So many people come up from the mortal realm; memories are taken naturally. I don’t know if his were reclaimed.”

“Life experience and tribulation are different,” she said pitifully as she escaped my grip. “Tribulation is something you live through—you have to remember it. Life experience depends on the person’s will. I can’t force it on a celestial being…”

My breath dropped. This was a problem.

Being a celestial has three hardships: you eat poorly, you sleep poorly, and you live poorly. On top of that, I had a fourth: it’s hard to hide.

The Lotus Banquet was arranged specifically for the Crown Prince. All the immortals would attend, and I, as the only Martial Lord among the four lords, would look bad if I didn’t show up.

As Queen Mother West said, I couldn’t let the other lord palaces laugh at me.

I indignantly agreed, but at the Southern Gate I chickened out.

If the Crown Prince still remembered, and he was out for revenge—what would I do?

I didn’t do any good deeds—I forced him into women’s clothes, made him crawl through dog-sized holes, dragged him through brothels, made him steal steamed buns.

Only now did I realize I’m really not a great person. But there was nothing for it; I wiped my tears away and braced myself to accept his bow.

When he finished, he stared at me again. I grit my teeth and deliberately changed the subject. "Prince Adrian—did your trial go smoothly this time?"

Queen Mother West immediately rolled her eyes at me.

Oh right—I shouldn’t have brought it up. Of course, just as I expected, Adrian answered softly, "Thank you for your concern, Lord Rowan. Everything went well, except I encountered a certain… fate along the way. It’s been on my mind."

"Haha, is that so? Trials always come with unexpected ties and consequences. Your Highness should let it go," I said dryly.

"Is that what Lord Rowan thinks?" Adrian smiled faintly. "I am enlightened."

I wanted to smack myself. I forced a laugh and tugged Queen Mother West toward the low table between us.

She couldn’t hide her amusement and was practically smirking. I gave her a playful shove.

"Ouch! Rowan, what are you like? You’re the War Lord—your hits always hurt. I’m delicate!" she pouted, which made me burst out laughing.

"Lord Rowan, Queen Mother West." Two figures stood before us. I recognized them.

There are only four High Lords in the Palace—me, Lord Rowan, the Queen Mother, and the two men standing now. They were both Literary Lords. Queen Mother West took care of weather and harvests; these two were heavyweights—one handled wealth, the other fate.

She curtsied with exaggerated modesty. "Greetings, Lord Sebastian Vale, Lord Marcus Hale."

I watched Queen Mother West’s awkward little performance and wondered what on earth was going on—then she shot me a warning look.

I glanced at Lord Sebastian Vale; there was a faint blush of shyness on his face, while Marcus looked mildly annoyed. Suddenly I understood.

Completely understood.

I used my divine mind-link to whisper to Queen Mother West, "Hey, sister, you like Lord Sebastian?"

Her face lit up. "Isn’t he handsome? When he ascended—his gentle, refined manner completely won me over. I’m warning you—keep up some dignity. If you offend the Crown Prince and never get married, I still intend to pursue happiness!"

I… couldn’t respond.

Marcus’s expression soured a bit. He balled his right hand into a fist, coughed into it, and awkwardly said, "Um, two of you are using your minds—Marcus and Sebastian can hear you."

I didn’t care, but Queen Mother West instantly flushed a deep red. This kid was about to combust.

After the banquet began came the boring part—eating and watching dances. I chatted with the three High Lords in a half-hearted way, keeping my face calm.

Except, no.

I could clearly feel a burning gaze from up to my left. Heh—no need to look; I already knew who it was.

Whatever. At my current look, body, and age, Adrian couldn’t possibly recognize me as the street urchin who’d bullied him in the mortal world. If he did, I’d wash my hair standing on my head.

"His Majesty has arrived—!" the Herald announced, making me jump and nearly choke on my wine.

A laugh came from somewhere. I looked up; Queen Mother West was watching the direction Adrian had entered from. A strong instinct pushed me to glance up-left at the table.

Of course.

Prince Adrian—Adrian Morrow—was looking at me with a smile.

Smile my foot! I shifted my gaze to the Emperor himself.

The Emperor didn’t look old—kind of handsome, even—but that didn’t change the fact he’s four thousand years older than me.

He was an old man; I was a young woman.

"I’m glad everyone could come," the Emperor said cheerfully. "My son has returned from his trial. Enjoy the festivities."

He looked proud of his son. I forced a smile but kept my eyes averted—Old Emperor, can you control your son? Those eyes of his could kill.

Marcus spoke first. "Since the Crown Prince has returned, and the four High Lords are present, why don’t we bestow blessings upon him?"

I widened my eyes, itching to fling Marcus out of the world. Blessings? I don’t want any connection to the Crown Prince. Do you understand? I tugged at Queen Mother West and tried to signal her.

Refuse! Say no! She glanced at me and suddenly smiled kindly. Bad feeling.

Sure enough, Queen Mother West stood and was the first to teleport in front of Adrian.

She showed a palm, and a jade ruyi appeared. With a flick of her robe she bestowed a blessing.

"May wind and rain be in harmony, may peace last forever!"

A huge blue lotus rose beneath her, then dissolved into blue light that sank into Adrian’s robes.

Sebastian and Marcus stepped forward, sweeping two ornamental fly-whisks that left silver trails like snakes. In unison they murmured, "May wealth prosper, may virtue guide all."

White light flashed; two silver snakes darted into Adrian’s black robe, looking vivid and alive.

And me? I was the only one who hadn’t given a blessing yet.

All the celestial officials turned to me. Adrian watched quietly.

Fine, fine—I’ll do it.

I stood, smoothed the wrinkle I’d made in my robe, and walked toward him.

When a High Lord bestows a blessing, you summon a divine implement. Mine is different—my weapon and my armor are one.

White mist rose beneath my feet, turning my white robes into silver armor. I crushed a white lotus with each step; a silver mask formed across my face. With a flick of my wrist a Silver Lance—my Silver Tyrant Spear—materialized.

A dragon’s roar shook the clouds.

I planted myself, and a silver dragon spiraled from the spear. I hesitated, then spoke, "Divide the soul to bear death—so the body shall not perish."

The lance thrummed. The silver dragon circled and swept into the center of Adrian’s brow.

Queen Mother West and the Emperor looked surprised, but said nothing.

I knew I’d just given a massive blessing.

But I’m the War Lord. Other than saving the Crown Prince’s life in a moment of crisis, I truly had nothing else to give.

I waved my hand; the armor and spear vanished, leaving me in a white robe again.

Adrian stood silent, staring at the four sigils that had appeared on his garment, then bowed and thanked us politely.

When Queen Mother West and I sat back down, she tugged my sleeve. "Why did you give such a huge blessing? Dividing a soul to take a life—that’s… when did you become so generous, Lord Rowan?"

I rolled my eyes. "You started it. You all bestowed yours—how could I not? I’m a War Lord. Beyond stopping one life-or-death calamity for him, what else could I possibly give?"

She pouted, offended. "You should’ve let us refuse… Dividing a soul to bear death—that’s too much."

I raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Didn’t you see me signal you to go first?"

She froze. "I saw you signaling me to go first!"

"I wanted you to refuse!" I snapped.

Queen Mother West shrank back and shut up.

After a few heavy drinks I stood up unsteadily and used my drunkenness as an excuse to leave early.

I walked along the white jade paths of the Palace. There’s no night in the Divine Realm—though my body felt like it was nighttime and I was tired, the Palace remained brilliantly lit.

Maybe I’ll go sleep in the mortal world.

Before I could act on that thought, someone appeared behind me.

I immediately pretended to be drunk and leaned against a wall as I walked.

"Lord Rowan."

It was Adrian.

He came close and, in the moment I expected him to strike, he steadied me. Huh?

I peered at him without speaking. His earlobes were faintly pink, his gaze slightly foggy.

"Aren’t you drunk too?" I asked softly.

He nodded and dutifully led me to a small pavilion by the path. "I drank too much. I’m a little dizzy. Please forgive me, Lord Rowan."

He helped me sit, then took a seat opposite me. I leaned forward on the table, fully committing to my act, and watched him. "You said you encountered a fate," I murmured. "Did you find them?"

His eyes cleared, and he answered honestly, "No. I couldn’t find her."

My heart stuttered. Of course you couldn’t—because that pauper was me! An ascended High Lord! Imagine that! But I kept my face calm as he spoke: "After ascending, I went to find Myrna, but she said there was no one with me during my trial."

Our eyes met and my chest did a strange flip.

For a moment I wanted to howl inside. Adrian—don’t tempt me with those wet, pitiful eyes. Don’t make me commit crimes.

"Lord Rowan, you just told me that if a fate must be severed, it should be let go, right?" He suddenly took my hand, looking utterly forlorn. My first thought was that he was about to hit me.

But he didn’t. He held on tight.

I thought for a second and answered, "Your Highness, what happened is in the past. Let it go. People must look forward…"

"I don’t want to let go!" he cried, suddenly springing up and wrenching his hand free. "I tried everything to keep her! I gave her everything she wanted! And she still left without a word!"

He fell to the ground like he’d been air-punched.

I got up, too embarrassed to keep pretending. I poked his cheek with a rueful smile. "Are you trying to con me?"

He frowned, unmoving.

"Really," I muttered. There were no heavenly soldiers nearby—the court was busy with the Lotus Banquet.

I hesitated a long while, then finally hoisted him up with one arm. "Consider this a good deed."

I have strength—I’m a warrior after all, and most celestials only weigh as much as a statue. Finn was waiting at the gate of the High Lords’ Hall, craning his neck. When he saw me, he rushed over.

"Lord Rowan, what did you pick up—a fallen Crown Prince?" Finn took Adrian from my arm and slung him over his shoulder. "Whoa, he reeks of wine!"

I rubbed my forehead. "Don’t be ridiculous—I’m not just randomly picking up crown princes. Put him somewhere to sober up. Prepare a bowl of herbal soup. When he wakes, send him back to Prince Adrian’s Hall. I’m going to sleep."

"A Lord gets to sleep?" Finn muttered under his breath, which I heard clearly.

I poked his head and snapped, "My lord keeps the right to sleep. Any objections?"

Finn stumbled backward at my poke and didn’t dare argue.

I smiled, shook my head, and started taking off my outer robe as I walked. A palace attendant draped a thin shawl over me. I washed my face and flopped onto the rattan chaise.

That feeling of stretching out was bliss.

Celestial beings don’t need sleep; my “sleep” was just closing my eyes and meditating.

Adrian had been set up on a soft divan not far from me.

I could feel him moving closer.

Oh, how convenient—I’ll pretend to be drunk, and you pretend to be drunk too?

I couldn’t help feeling smug. Good thing I hadn’t blurted anything earlier—exposure would’ve come way too fast.

“Lord Rowan?”

He called softly.

I ignored him.

He tugged my sleeve.

I still ignored him.

His voice took on a bit of pity. “Lord Rowan, your eyelid’s twitching.”

Ahem.

I surrendered and opened my eyes. He was crouched beside the chaise, very close.

I walked right into his gaze without meaning to.

He smiled a little. “Lord Rowan, do you like lotus pastry? I can make some for you.”

I almost said I did.

Luckily I bit my lip and stopped my mouth in time.

8. When I was in the Mortal Realm, I was a little beggar, and I crossed paths with a mortal crown prince.

“Crossed paths” is generous—really I was climbing a wall while he happened to be getting punished in the school. He found me because I’d teased him about a cowlick, and he chased me, eyes red, all afternoon.

I felt bad when I’d been too mean, so I started inventing little tricks to cheer him up.

Everything I scavenged, I’d give to that crying little prince.

That included my favorite, lotus pastry.

I knew the auntie at Jin’s Tea House who made them. She liked my sweet mouth and would quietly pack one and toss it in an alley for me to grab.

I’d take it and give it to the little prince.

Watching him nibble made me happy.

Even though I was starving for it, I’d eat less if it made him smile. But gradually he noticed I loved lotus pastry and started refusing the things I brought.

A palm-sized pastry—he’d split it in half: half for me, half for him.

Then it was me with a big piece, him with a small piece.

Then he’d carry a whole basket of pastries while watching me eat.

I still remember him at fourteen—blushing, carrying pastries, looking at me shyly: “Rowan, Rowan, I gave you so many pastries. Will you stay with me?”

What did I answer back then?

Oh right.

“I’ll stay, you silly hammer.”

Thinking about that cringe-worthy past made me want to hide.

I pushed myself up to put distance between Adrian and me, forced an awkward smile, and warned, “Crown Prince, you’re too close.”

Adrian seemed not to hear. When I moved back, he just sat down and squeezed in next to me.

The chaise rocked; when he edged in, I tipped backward.

A belt tightened around my waist and I was pulled into an embrace.

I heard him murmur, “Adrian is rude—please forgive me, Lord Rowan.”

Me: haha.

You’re rude—then let go! His arms were wrapped tight around my waist. I coughed twice as a token protest, but he didn’t loosen. I had to pry his hands away and stand farther off.

I forced myself not to glance around, cleared my throat. “Crown Prince, what are you doing? Someone could think you—”

“Yes.”

He cut me off suddenly.

I felt embarrassed.

My sentence wasn’t finished. You—what are you yes-ing to?

I didn’t know how to respond, so I just sat there awkwardly.

He looked at me with an innocent expression.

In the end I gave up.

I crouched and stared at him, resigned. “Crown Prince, what exactly do you mean?”

He tilted his head. “Do you want lotus pastry? I’ll make some for you.”

I forced a smile and closed my eyes, inhaling slowly. Damn those pastries.

Seeing Adrian smile so sweetly, I snapped. “Eat! If you don’t make me a whole tableful today I’ll toss you—yes, you—into Myrna’s Cauldron!”

I fluffed, and he smiled.

Damn it.

9. This crown prince is… off. Really off.

I looked at the table piled with lotus pastries and admitted defeat.

This man was unbeatable.

A crown prince, and here he was wearing an apron, sleeves tied with a cord, dark hair knotted at the nape, flour dusting his cheek, smiling at me.

I swallowed. It wasn’t the pastries that made my mouth water—it was the crown prince.

I will say it a million times: the crown prince’s looks are unreal. I need to find a rebirth artist to paint me one like him! All at once—mysterious but not sultry, tempting but not gaudy, cool without being cruel—one word: perfect. I quietly took a pastry. It melted in my mouth—sweet without cloying.

Exactly the flavor I loved.

How did he replicate the Mortal Realm’s taste exactly?

He seemed ready to answer and brought a plate of clear tea, setting it before me. “I studied making these a long time when I was mortal.”

I tittered. “No need to tell me, thanks, Crown Prince.”

I swallowed and choked a little. He handed me the tea.

I took a sip and, a bit dazed, asked, “So, Crown Prince—have you decided to trace this karmic connection?”

He looked at me long and nodded.

I licked my lips and, stubborn, asked, “And if you find it—what will you do?”

He seemed puzzled and glanced at me. “Do what?”

My heart skipped; I hurried to explain, “Haha, it’s nothing. The person who made you that angry should maybe suffer a little…as punishment.”

I watched the corner of Adrian’s mouth soften, and then he laughed.

I laughed twice too, then cautiously said, “It’s not that serious, right? You could reduce the penalty, maybe?”

He stopped laughing, nodded once.

I let out a relieved breath.

We could negotiate—I didn’t think my crime was that big.

Sure, I’d bullied the little prince sometimes, but I also protected him from a lot. Still, I didn’t want to dredge up embarrassing memories. Adrian’s presence was forcing me to relive my past sins! Voices murmured at the door. I looked up and almost spat tea.

Queen Mother West stood at the entrance, dragging a very unwilling Lord Marcus Hale with her, winking at me. Lord Sebastian Vale peeked in from behind.

I nearly burst out laughing.

Those three—operatives?

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