Chapter 12

Zhao Ranyan squeezed her eyes shut, face deathly pale. The stabbing agony she braced for never came. When she dared to open her eyes again, the woman in white had already resumed her human face, brows knotted, hand pressed to her lips.
Heat pulsed at Zhao Ranyan’s wrist, a golden light flaring there. The woman was unable to draw any closer.
It was the bead bracelet Shen Qing had given her, the charm had activated, blocking the monster’s bite.
The woman frowned, then smiled again. “Don’t think that bracelet alone means I can’t eat you.” She gave the red stone necklace in her hand a lazy shake and turned to Shen Ling. “Why not let this young lady help me take her little beads off?”
“I will,” Shen Ling agreed without hesitation.
Once she spoke, irritation and impatience colored her brows. She rose from the cushion and walked to Zhao Ranyan, reaching for the bracelet on her wrist.
Zhao Ranyan had never imagined that this seemingly harmless, gentle Shen Ling would ally herself with evil spirits. Realizing she was likely to die here today, her heart couldn’t help but fill with bleak despair.
But before Shen Ling’s hand could so much as graze her skin, a hairpin shot through the green gauze window like a bolt, stabbing straight into Shen Ling’s palm.
“Ahhh!” A shrill scream ripped through the room.
A blood-red flower blossomed in Shen Ling’s palm.
The hairpin had punched clean through her hand. Blood flooded down, soaking her fingers and blooming dark red across the sleeve of her white jacket.
That was when Shen Qing kicked the door open and stepped inside.
Her brows were rimed with frost, her lovely face set in displeasure. “Someone who helps evil spirits butcher her own kin, and she dares call herself my ‘younger sister’?”
Seeing who had come, Shen Ling’s eyes flared with panic. Her voice cracked. “Shen Qing? Why are you here?!”
Shen Qing tilted her head, all faux innocence. “Why wouldn’t I be? Lady Zhao disappeared, of course I had to come looking for her.”
Her expression was cool, but anger burned hot beneath her ribs. Zhao Ranyan’s death in the previous life clearly hadn’t been unrelated to this girl. She’d always been like this, cold as stone when it came to her goals.
I shouldn’t have thrown the hairpin, Shen Qing thought, brows tightening. I should have thrown the sword and cut off those troublesome hands of hers instead.
The instant she saw the newcomer, the woman in white’s eyes lit up, an intense gleam bursting forth. “What a perfect skin,” she purred. “I just so happen to be in the mood for a change.”
Shen Qing let out a short, cold laugh, turning her gaze on her. “You really think you dare peel my skin? Take a good, careful look and see who I am.”
The woman blinked, then drifted close. When she felt the familiar bloodline aura on Shen Qing’s body, her eyes flew wide. “You’re of Shen Congzhi’s line?”
“That’s right,” Shen Qing said.
Disappointment and regret flooded the woman’s face. “So you’re Shen Congzhi’s descendant. Forget it, then.” She hooked the red stone chain with a fingertip and flicked it toward Shen Qing as if it meant nothing. “Take it. Your grandmother left that for you.”
Shen Qing reached out to catch it, catching at the same time the way Shen Ling’s face went corpse-white.
She swept a casual glance at the red stone, then fastened the necklace around her neck. Without forgetting, she tucked the stone itself into her collar, entirely out of Shen Ling’s sight.
As in the previous life, the glass heart had finally fallen into Shen Qing’s hands where it belonged.
Back then, she had stumbled into this very rift in the woods while hunting evil spirits, and that was how she’d arrived in this illusion realm.
The guardian of this place was the woman before her, or rather, not a woman at all, but a bound earth spirit with a beautiful face.
A fudi spirit was born of concentrated yin energy and resentment and was shackled for life to the spot of its birth. Only one path could free them from these chains and grant them a wandering body: fulfilling the last wish of someone on the brink of death.
Once the wish was done, the bound spirit would gain freedom, at the price of its remaining energy.
But in the previous life, Shen Ling had stolen the necklace for herself and told the world it was her late mother’s keepsake. So she fooled everyone, Shen Qing included.
Had the beauty-faced spirit not later recognized Shen Qing and revealed the truth, Shen Qing would still be in the dark.
This was the treasure her grandmother, whom she’d never met, had intended for her future granddaughter. How could it possibly belong to Shen Ling?
Now that the artifact had returned to its rightful owner, the woman’s joy was palpable. She could feel invisible chains around her loosening one by one; the freedom she’d yearned for all these years was at last within reach.
“Good little sister, you truly came just in time. I don’t want to stay in this rotten place a moment longer.”
The scenery outside the house was beautiful, but she herself had been trapped inside for a lifetime, only able to watch the days and nights turn. She’d never once been allowed to step past the threshold.
Tentatively, she reached a hand toward the doorway. Seeing her pale, slender fingers slip straight through without resistance, unharmed, she nearly trembled with excitement.
“At last, I can go out!” All three girls thought she would leave immediately, only to see her suddenly turn back, gaze drifting to Zhao Ranyan and Shen Ling.
She smiled with crescent eyes and said to Shen Qing, “Even if we can’t touch each other, the two of them will do nicely to take the edge off my hunger. I won’t bother changing skins after all, wouldn’t want him to fail to recognize me later.”
If the target of her “task” died, it would mean her mission had failed, and the freedom she wanted would vanish like smoke.
Without explaining who she meant, she started toward the two kneeling girls.
But as soon as she took a step, there was a sharp ring of steel, the sound of a blade leaving its sheath. A long sword slid between them, leveled across her chest, cutting off her path.
“This shabby sword can’t stop me,” the woman said lightly. “Don’t waste your strength on pointless efforts.”
Shen Qing’s eyes curved in a smile. “I know it can’t stop you. But think, your kind only has three days left to live once you’re free. Are you sure you want to squander what little yin virtue you have left by eating people?”
Once a bound earth spirit fulfilled a dying wish and gained its freedom, its remaining time was fixed at three days. They exchanged shackles for a brief, burning life.
Looking at this beauty-faced creature who was neither wholly good nor wholly evil, Shen Qing spoke more gently, out of genuine concern. “So far you haven’t stained yourself with bloodshed. When you die, there’s still a chance the underworld will take you, let you reincarnate. But if you commit murder now, then after death there’ll be nothing left of you, only oblivion, wiped from the world.”
The woman covered her mouth and laughed. “Why would a heaven-born beauty like me care about becoming human? Being human is the real suffering. And I have a name. I’m called Qingnu, not ‘monster’ or ‘evil thing.’ Little sister, you ought to mind your tongue if you want to cultivate merit.”
“Qingnu it is, then.” Shen Qing swallowed back the words on her tongue. She would have dearly loved to protect only Zhao Ranyan and let Qingnu swallow Shen Ling in one bite.
But Shen Ling was the heroine of the book. The system had said her fate was tied to Shen Qing’s; if Shen Ling died, Shen Qing would perish as well.
So she could only grit her teeth and stop Qingnu from devouring either of them.
Qingnu’s strength was unfathomable. With practically no cultivation of her own, Shen Qing was no match for her. If they clashed head-on, the woman could freeze her in place with a casual binding spell. So Shen Qing chose another path.
“You said you were going out to look for someone,” she prompted. “Who is he? Perhaps I know him.”
Qingnu smiled, the look in her eyes like that of an elder amused by a junior’s futile thrashing over some trivial matter. Teasing colored her voice. “Why, I’m going to find Brother Qing, of course.”
“Brother Qing?”
Qingnu said, “That’s right, my Brother Qing.”
“Over twenty years ago, right here, another little Daoist happened to fall into this place. That little Daoist was so stiff and stuffy, every time I went near him, he’d turn red to the tips of his ears and scamper far away.”
At the mention of the little Daoist, a hint of laughter surfaced in Qingnu’s eyes.
“He was badly injured back then. On his own, he couldn’t get out of this illusion realm, so I kept him here to recover.”
In truth, Qingnu could have sent him out at any time. She simply didn’t want to.
She was too bored.
Unfortunately for her, she’d been born in the worst possible place: a rift-realm illusion where hardly a soul ever passed. The outside was a complete blank to her; she neither knew what the world looked like nor had any way to see it for herself.
Later, it seemed the little Daoist noticed her boredom. While recuperating, he was willing to spend more and more time talking with her.
From his vivid descriptions, she could, through his words, catch glimpses of the world beyond. Under his guidance, Qingnu slowly reshaped the rift around her, moonlit skies, pavilions and waterside walkways, everything in this room.
The first character she ever learned to write was qing. She liked it very much, so she named herself “Qingnu”, for no other reason than that it sounded pleasing.
She had no idea how many months passed. His injuries eventually healed, his tongue loosened, and the two of them grew truly familiar.
Qingnu knew his heart wasn’t here; he would never willingly be penned into this tiny heaven and earth. When a bird’s wings are fully grown, of course it wants to fly far away.
So the little Daoist left.
Before he went, eyes clear as glass, he said, “Would you like to venture out with me, to see the world beyond, to feel spiritual rain and dew, to behold rivers, mountains, and the vault of heaven?”
Qingnu, all boneless languor, was dozing against the low table. Warm tea-steam wreathed her face, softening her features into a rare hint of gentleness.
“You truly are a wolf in Daoist robes,” she’d said lazily. “You know that once I’m free, I won’t have long to live, yet you still try to coax me into marching toward death.”
But he’d been utterly serious, lofty ambition between his brows. “In time I will think of a way to take you out, safe and whole. Then you needn’t worry about life or longevity. Will you wait for me?”
Qingnu had laughed at his naïveté, yet seeing how solemn he was, she’d actually felt a spark of hope. “All right. I’ll wait.”
But she waited and waited, and still he did not come. Qingnu decided he must have failed to find a way and was too afraid she’d mock him, so he didn’t dare show his face.
No matter. She could go look for him instead.
She hadn’t waited long before fate delivered her an opportunity: a gravely injured woman.
The woman pressed the red stone necklace into her hand and told her to wait for someone, to hand it over to her, her daughter, or the descendants of one Shen Congzhi.
The descendants would bear the woman’s blood; Qingnu could smell it. All she had to do was confirm that the girl’s father was Shen Congzhi.
Qingnu finally breathed out the Daoist’s name. “He’s called Qian Zimo.” Then she added, “He said he was some so-and-so ‘Chief Envoy’ of Xuanji Pavilion, dragging around a one-year-old brat of a disciple.”
Shen Qing’s pupils genuinely contracted. The man Qingnu spoke of was none other than her master. And the “bratty little disciple”…was her senior brother.
She had no leisure to process her shock. Instead, she immediately struck a bargain. “I know the person you’re talking about, and I can take you to him.”
Qingnu’s delight was instant. “Truly? Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“But, ” Shen Qing lifted a finger. “You have to promise not to harm either of these two, and after you go out, you may not hurt a single innocent. To make sure you mean it, you’ll need to swear first.”
Qingnu swore without the slightest hesitation. “I, Qingnu, hereby vow: if, after leaving this place, I harm any innocent person, may I be struck by thunder on the spot, my soul scattered and my spirit destroyed, never to die a clean death.”
A bound earth spirit’s oath was witnessed by Heaven itself. If she violated that vow, the words she’d spoken would literally come to pass.
Once Qingnu finished, a streak of white light formed between her brows and sank into her forehead. As if afraid Shen Qing still wouldn’t believe her, she flicked her sleeve, and in an instant, Shen Ling and Zhao Ranyan were flung out of the illusion realm.
Only then did Shen Qing truly relax. “The man you mentioned,” she said, “happens to be my master.”
Qingnu stared at her, utterly at a loss. “Your master?”
Shen Qing inclined her head.
Qingnu blurted out, “That makes it even easier! Hurry, hurry and take me to him. At least let me see him once more. I haven’t got long to live.”
But Shen Qing didn’t move. Slowly, she said, “Master passed away ten years ago.”
Qingnu’s expression froze. “Dead?” Her head turned stiffly; in an instant she was like a rotting wooden carving, all life drained away. “So that’s why he never came back for me… He was dead.”
Shen Qing spoke up in her master’s defense. “Ten years ago, an ancient evil spirits, the nine-headed Xiangyou, suddenly appeared in the world and wrought havoc among mortals. It was then that Master fell.”
Later, that nine-headed Xiangyou had been heavily wounded under the siege of several senior experts and a host of fellow disciples, unable to rampage through the human realm again. It finally slunk away, its whereabouts unknown.
That battle had left no one unscathed. Only her master, in order to save a young child, had forced himself to hack off one of Xiangyou’s heads, taking a savage bite to the shoulder in return.
In the end, he had been unable to withstand the demonic energy invading his heart and the venom raging through his body. He’d died, leaving behind only his too-young disciple and her senior brother.
“What about before that?” Qingnu’s voice was barely there. “All that time before, did he ever mention me?”
“No.”
Qingnu’s gaze dimmed.
“But Master spent a long stretch of time each day holed up in the archives, poring over ancient texts,” Shen Qing went on. “He never skipped a day. I think… he must have been searching for a way to free you. He just never found it.”
Qingnu gave a small, relieved smile. “Then that’s enough. So long as he didn’t forget me.”
She suddenly shuffled over in her crabapple-wood clogs, climbed back into the heated couch, and lay down, tugging a silk coverlet over herself.
Seeing her curl up so abruptly, Shen Qing frowned. “You don’t want to visit his tomb of great merit?”
Languidly, Qingnu replied, “No need. What’s so interesting about a pile of dead bones?” She flicked her hand. “I’ll just lie here and wait for death. One step out that door and I leave the illusion realm. Go on, I won’t see you out.”
Shen Qing respected her choice, though her heart held regret for both of them.
She turned and stepped through the wooden door, only to hear Qingnu’s voice float after her again. “Oh, right. You and your lover’s little pet snake are still here.”
Shen Qing stumbled and nearly ate dirt, desperate to crawl back inside. “You what did you just say?”
Qingnu: “Your snake…”
Somewhere out of sight, Qiuren had slithered around and now curled itself back around Shen Qing’s waist.
Qingnu chuckled. “Oh my, it does know to follow its master, at least.”
Shen Qing snapped, “I’m asking what you said before that! What lover?!”
Propping herself up on one arm, Qingnu slowly rose from the bed. “You really don’t know?”
Shen Qing said through gritted teeth, “Know what?”
Qingnu replied, “It’s written all over you. From head to toe, even your hair smells like another man, oh no, another little brat. That snake of yours, that sword in your hand, they all reek of him too.”
She yawned and flicked her hand dismissively. “Enough chatter. Off you go, off you go, don’t disturb my nap.” With that, she waved.
A massive force shoved Shen Qing backwards out the door. Her vision spun, the scene outside blurring into a swirl. In the midst of it, she just barely heard Qingnu’s tiny voice, “By the way, your lover is waiting up top right now. Little sister, your peach-blossom fate’s not bad at all. That pretty boy actually looks quite pleasing.”