Chapter 22

Shen Ling, caught off guard, toppled to the ground. The half-healed wound in her palm tore open again, dark red seeping swiftly through the bandages. Her hair fell into disarray, and a stark black footprint sullied her pristine white skirt. She looked utterly pitiful.
Cuizhi drew back her leg as if to kick her again. Shen Ling yelped, ducking her head into her shoulders, but the expected pain never came. When she peeked up, Cuizhi was already back at Shen Qing’s side, nose in the air, her face full of contempt. Color drained from Shen Ling’s cheeks, leaving her blue one moment and white the next.
Shen Qing’s gaze was dim and hard as she looked at the girl on the ground. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the surrounding servants.
The courtyard, suddenly spacious, held only the three of them: Shen Qing, Shen Ling, and Cuizhi.
Cuizhi snorted through her nose, glaring at the “troublemaker” she despised.
Shen Qing, meanwhile, put on a fresh, pleasant smile. She took a few unhurried steps forward, strolling up to Shen Ling as if on a walk, then leaned down, fingers catching the girl’s chin and forcing her to lift her face.
She brought her lips close to Shen Ling’s ear and murmured so only the two of them could hear, “Another life, same as before, you’re still this stupid.”
Shen Ling’s pupils shrank; her lips trembled as she stared up at her.
“W-what did you say?!” Her voice tipped into a sharp, shrill note.
Impossible. How could it be? How could she have been reborn too?!
Shen Qing tilted her head innocently. “What did I say? I said, another life over, and you’re still this stupid. Last time at Mount Li you tried to use Qingnu’s hand to harm Miss Zhao, and this time you thought a demonic cat could do the job for you.
Shen Ling, what grudge, what hatred do I have with you that you treat me like this?” In the past life it had been so; in this one, it was the same.
Luckily, when Miss Zhao had fainted, though she’d muttered deliriously in her sleep, she’d woken with no real harm done, save for losing a slice of memory: everything that had happened in that rift of space between herself and Shen Ling.
Shen Qing didn’t know the exact details, but she could guess well enough. At best, the harm had failed; at worst, Shen Ling had tried to erase the witness.
As for why Shen Ling hadn’t used the same method on her to wipe her memory? Oh, she’d certainly tried, Shen Qing’s eyes had simply been sharper and had seen straight through her little tricks.
Unfortunately, the memory-erasing gu worm had dissolved to water upon death. With no proof, Shen Qing hadn’t been able to make anything of it then. Now, though, she finally had “stolen goods” in hand.
Shen Ling’s eyes were wide, raking over Shen Qing’s expression in minute detail. Seeing nothing obviously amiss, she forced herself to relax a fraction. “I never meant to hurt Miss Zhao, nor to harm you, sister. You’re overthinking,” she said weakly, face pale as paper.
Inwardly, she clung to her denial. Of course it was impossible. Shen Qing, spoiled, vicious, brainless Shen Qing, how could she possibly have been reborn too?
She instinctively refused to believe there was anyone else like her in this world, another reborn. Even with all the changes this life had already shown, she still insisted on believing they were all the ripples of her own rebirth.
But then her heart lurched again. Shen Qing had never once spoken of that day she’d tried to harm Miss Zhao. Shen Ling had thought the gu worm had done its job. Yet here Shen Qing stood, bringing it up, clearly without having lost that stretch of memory!
“I’m overthinking,” Shen Qing echoed slowly, tasting the four words. “Am I really? Then how do you explain this cat?”
Shen Ling had no time to argue. A numb tingling crawled up her spine, and she snapped her head around. Somehow, a blood-soaked black cat had dragged itself out of the house, limping along on a mangled leg, leaving a long, smeared trail of red behind it.
Embedded deep in the cat’s back was a silver hairpin, only the bejeweled, tasselled end still visible.
Cuizhi’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She immediately glared at Shen Ling, practically spraying the word from between her teeth. “Pah! What kind of person are you, that you won’t even spare your own cat? Your heart must be pumping black water! My lady! Hurry and throw this person out, she’s terrifying!”
Shen Qing stroked her maid’s bristling hair. The black cat had already crawled up behind Shen Ling, its frail claws stretching toward her skirts. This time, Shen Ling found her strength, shrieking, “Don’t touch me!” as she shot to her feet and scrambled three paces back.
It was hard to tell whether that voice held more fear or disgust.
Shen Qing’s lips curved in a thin smile. “Already thinking about cleaning up the ‘evidence’ so quickly? Shame your brain doesn’t quite keep up. If it were me, I’d stab straight into its neck, quick death, and it wouldn’t even have time to scream.”
She tapped Shen Ling’s lowered hand. “Does it still hurt? Being scratched and bitten by your little tabby, must not have been pleasant, hm?”
At her words, Shen Ling instinctively hid her hand behind her back. Across that fair back of her hand, several claw marks stood out sharply, along with a few bite marks.
Even so, she still refused to admit anything. “Elder sister jests. The cat suddenly rushed in and ran into my hairpin. It isn’t mine.” As long as she didn’t confess and there was no hard proof, what could they really do to her?
Shen Qing said mildly, “Oh.”
Reality proved that an idiot who lived two lives was still an idiot; she wouldn’t suddenly grow a brain just because she’d done it all over again. This was her Shen Qing’s territory. If she wanted to make a move, why would she ever need evidence?
“You’an, what’s going on?” Madam Shen’s voice suddenly drifted over.
Shen Qing had barely turned when a familiar, calming scent reached her. She looked up to see a richly dressed woman approaching with a few servants in tow.
Madam Shen had clearly caught wind of something and hurried over to Yunshui Courtyard, where Shen Ling lived.
Shen Qing’s eyes reddened at once; she flung herself into her mother’s arms. “Mother, someone bullied me!”
The usual gentle serenity in Madam Shen’s face shaded subtly darker. “Cuizhi,” she said evenly, “what happened?”
Cuizhi’s own eyes were damp and red. “Madam doesn’t know, my lady was bullied terribly by an outsider!”
She launched into a vividly embellished account of what had happened on the swing and how Shen Ling had tried to destroy the incriminating evidence, only to be exposed.
Listening to her own “tragic experience” retold, Shen Qing almost worked herself up into anger again. She couldn’t help but add a bit more respect for Cuizhi’s storytelling skills.
When Madam Shen finished listening, her features were still soft, but she turned to look at disheveled Shen Ling, then back at her own immaculate, delicate daughter. Her hand rose to gently stroke Shen Qing’s hair. “Good child, you’ve suffered.”
Not seeing her father anywhere, Shen Qing asked, “Mother, where’s Father?”
“I hear that Officer Lin, who was said to have fallen in battle a few days ago, has suddenly returned alive,” Madam Shen replied. “Your father is delighted and went over at once to visit him.”
Shen Qing’s expression flickered. “Officer Lin…”
At the mention of that name, Madam Shen’s mood clearly improved. “Yes. That child coming home safe is truly a great joy.”
Then she said, “His Majesty’s imperial decree will arrive soon. Go wait at the main gate first. I’ll come shortly.”
The proper smile at Madam Shen’s lips was always appropriate, but only when she looked at her daughter did that smile soften into something truly tender.
Shen Qing knew well enough that old ginger is the spiciest. However gentle Madam Shen might look, she had ridden through wind and rain at Father Shen’s side.
Leaving the matter of dealing with Shen Ling to her mother felt wonderfully satisfying. Besides, Shen Qing had something far more important to do at the moment; she had no time to keep tangling with a fool.
If she stayed around an idiot too long, she might turn stupid herself.
“Alright,” Shen Qing said. “Then I’ll go ahead.”
Before leaving, she made sure to tell Cuizhi to pick up the black cat still hanging onto life.
She had big plans for that cat.
Soon enough, Cuizhi’s front was stained with a wide patch of blood. She looked down at the half-dead creature in her arms with a mixture of hatred and pity.
She hated it for daring to plot against her lady and frightening her half to death, nearly injuring her; yet she pitied it, too. In the end, it was just a beast following orders. Its master had been merciless, trying to silence it, only to strike the wrong place and leave it clinging to life in agony.
Cuizhi took the cat to find a physician, while Shen Qing went alone to receive the decree.
Given that the one before him was the future Cang Princess Consort and the daughter of the currently high-flying Grand Cavalry General, the eunuch sent to proclaim the decree did not question why only Shen Qing and a few servants had come out. He simply lifted his shrill voice and read.
“By Mandate of Heaven, His Majesty decrees:
My beloved son, Fourth Prince, Prince Cang Li Daoxuan, is brave and clever, dearly cherished by Me. Now there is Shen Qing, name You’an, daughter of the Grand Cavalry General, whose nature is gentle, her bearing dignified. I deem her both virtuous and talented, a fitting match for My son, and hereby bestow marriage between you and the Fourth Prince.
Henceforth, you are to be of one heart and one mind, abide by wifely virtue, and together forge a harmonious union. When an auspicious date is chosen, rites shall be performed to complete this fine tale. Respect this!”
“Your minister’s daughter receives the decree.” Shen Qing accepted the scroll with properly measured composure; her manners left no fault to be found.
After collecting the Shen family’s generous reward, the eunuch left all smiles. Before going, he still found room to add, “Miss Shen, such a blessing you have!”
The corner of Shen Qing’s mouth twitched. In her heart she thought: If this ‘blessing’ were given to you, would you want it?
She rolled up the decree, had the main gate shut, and neatly shut out the swell of public uproar that had already risen in Chang’an over the imperial betrothal.
Back in her room, Shen Qing changed into a water-blue cross-collared robe, then picked out a jade lotus coronet and gathered up all her black hair.
In the blink of an eye, the delicate little lady in the mirror had become a clean-cut youth of fourteen or fifteen, with a jade-like face.
The young gentleman’s lips were red, his teeth gleaming white. A slight curve of his brows and eyes sent out a flood of effortless charm. When Cuizhi saw him, her own face turned hot, heart thumping wildly.
She had always known her lady was stunning, by far the most beautiful young woman she’d ever seen. She hadn’t expected her in men’s clothes to be just as dazzling, straight-up transformed into a walking disaster.
Seeing Cuizhi on the verge of drooling, Shen Qing pinched her soft cheek with a laugh. As expected, the girl’s whole face went rosy like a ripe peach.
Mistress and maid finished changing and slipped out through the manor’s side gate.
On the street, if one looked over, one would see only a handsome, fine-featured youth walking ahead, followed by a fair, neat little page dressed as a study servant. No one knew where they’d come from nor where they were headed.
Cuizhi finally voiced the question in her heart. “My la, Young master, where are we going?”
Shen Qing strolled along at a leisurely pace. “To meet your future young master.”
Cuizhi squeaked, “Huh?”
Shen Qing patted the cap on her head. “What ‘huh’? Hurry up.”
“…Oh.”
The wedding was set for the tenth month. Not too soon, not too late.
During the preparations, worried about being targeted by more great demons, Shen Qing decided she ought to make some arrangements ahead of time, do more good deeds, or slay a few evil spirits that harmed people, to shave down the karma from her rebirth and avoid attracting even more monsters.
But dealing with demons meant inevitable clashes. If she ran into one she couldn’t handle, with her poor martial skills she would definitely need someone to back her up.
And right now, didn’t she have a perfectly good free laborer waiting to be used?
The first case Shen Qing planned to look into was the “Officer Lin matricide case.”
In her previous life, just before the Shen family’s annihilation, Chang’an had been abuzz with talk of two things: first, her father’s decisive victory driving back the barbarians that had haunted the border for years; second, the soldier Officer Lin who was supposed to have died in battle suddenly returning home safe ten days earlier.
This “Officer Lin” of popular rumor was quite the figure.
Officer Lin’s real name was Lin Yuanjiu, a native of Chang’an. Her father had been an ordinary soldier under General Shen, killed in battle ten years ago.
At twelve, grief-stricken by her father’s death, Lin Yuanjiu cut her hair, dressed as a man, and bid farewell to her mother to enlist under General Shen, following him to guard the frontier and defend their homeland.
Over the years she’d fought in many battles large and small. Because of her impressive military merit, General Shen took notice and gradually promoted her to staff officer.
Madam Lin always told outsiders her daughter had died You’and that she lived alone. When Lin Yuanjiu came home to visit, she would always slip back in the dead of night, braving the curfew, and for years no one ever caught them.
But accidents only take a moment.
Her daughter’s true identity was exposed three years ago, during one such homecoming.
After a victory at the border, His Majesty had been overjoyed and granted three days of public revelry; the night curfew in Chang’an was lifted for those three days as well.
As the victorious army passed the drill ground in the western suburbs, Lin Yuanjiu requested leave from General Shen and hurried home to see her mother, only to bump into a neighbor granny coming back late. She’d still been in armor, and the old woman recognized her face at once.
Even though Lin Yuanjiu had picked a very late hour, the rare freedom from curfew had made that neighbor play herself into forgetting the time. By the time she finally headed home, it was late as well.
The old lady had a notoriously loose tongue. After seeing Lin Yuanjiu in full uniform and recognizing her, it took less than half a day for the news that “the Lin family’s young lady has gone to war” to spread all over Chang’an.
The next day, His Majesty, intrigued by the idea of a woman soldier, summoned her to court.
Impeachment memorials from the Censorate then fell like drifting jade dust, countless petitions decrying a “hen crowing at dawn.”
His Majesty did not mete out punishment right away, but questioned her at some length instead. What exactly he asked, no one knew.
Then Father Shen, having heard the news, rushed into the palace overnight, arguing passionately in hopes of preserving this rare military talent.
Perhaps moved by the fact that, for seven years, Lin Yuanjiu had carried on her father’s dying wish and served the country diligently, adding many merits to her name, perhaps swayed by General Shen’s determination, His Majesty ultimately chose to absolve her of all charges and allowed her to continue serving in the army.
Nevertheless, merits cancelled out by fault, her chance of further promotion was all but cut off for life.
She never complained, and simply went on doing her duty. On the battlefield she was as fierce and skilled as any man, making that spear dance like a dragon in her hands.
But fate turned again. A month earlier, at a critical moment in the campaign, a squad of soldiers had been surrounded by barbarians in a desolate city, while the rest of the army was locked in fierce fighting elsewhere and couldn’t break free to rescue them.
At that time Lin Yuanjiu was resting in camp with injuries. As soon as she heard, she ignored her old wounds, mounted up alone and charged into the enemy ranks, taking the barbarian leader’s head with a single thrust. Enraged, the rest of the barbarians swarmed after her in pursuit.
Seizing the opening, Lin Yuanjiu rode her horse in the opposite direction, drawing away part of the enemy, buying her comrades a sliver of hope.
Soon after, the victorious main force arrived, slaughtered the barbarians around the city, and rescued the trapped soldiers.
Following the chaotic hoofprints, they tracked Lin Yuanjiu’s path through a patch of scrub forest and came at last to the edge of a cliff. Below, a torrential river roared past. If a person fell, there would be no chance of survival.
And at the cliff’s edge, Lin Yuanjiu’s spear was planted upright in the ground.
Everyone then knew: Lin Yuanjiu had fallen. She had sacrificed herself for her comrades.
Once the story spread, even the censors and officials who had held deep prejudice against women serving in the army silently set aside their bias and felt genuine admiration for her.
Everyone believed Lin Yuanjiu was dead, everyone except Madam Lin. She refused to accept it. Until she saw her daughter’s body, she insisted, her child must still be alive.
She even feared that her daughter might be lying injured and unconscious in some corner, and that if she went too late, the girl would truly be beyond saving.
So Madam Lin set off alone on the road to the frontier and went straight to the forest below the cliff where her daughter had fallen. She searched there in desperation for two full days and nights, and in the end found her grievously wounded and near death in a cave.
Then, that woman in her fifties dragged and supported her daughter step by step out of the wild forest, found help, and brought her back from the brink.
Back at home, Shen Qing had often heard about this person. Whenever Father Shen mentioned her, he would heap praises upon her. He frequently said that once the war was fully won, he would take her as his adopted daughter so that Shen Qing would have one more elder sister.
At the time, Shen Qing had only felt sour at the thought of sharing her parents’ love with another daughter. Later, when she heard of Lin Yuanjiu’s supposed death, she only felt regret and secretly wished this would-be “elder sister” could have returned safely.
In her previous life, Lin Yuanjiu did indeed come back alive, but because she was disfigured, she refused to see anyone after returning home. Whether it was General Shen or former comrades, she shut them all out.
She locked herself in her room for months, and not even when General Shen, the man who had recognized and promoted her, passed away, did she appear to pay her respects.
By the time Shen Qing heard about her again, rumors claimed that Lin Yuanjiu, unable to accept her disfigurement, had killed her own mother and fled. Overnight, she went from a tragic heroine pitied by all to an unfilial monster who murdered the woman who’d raised her.
Back then, reeling from the loss of her parents and the shock brought by Shen Ling, Shen Qing had barely spared this story any attention and never found out why Lin Yuanjiu had supposedly killed her mother.
But thinking back carefully, there was something off about it all.
How had Madam Lin, a frail woman who couldn’t even wring a chicken’s neck, managed to find her daughter in a forest crawling with demons and danger? Even if she somehow found her by sheer luck, how did a half-blind woman over fifty have the strength to carry a severely wounded grown woman out of the woods?
Shen Qing guessed that perhaps Madam Lin had already died in that forest and a demon had seized her body. As for why it brought Lin Yuanjiu back, most likely it had wanted to hide behind her identity and find it easier to kill in the city.
There had indeed been several murders around the Lin residence in the months that followed. The murderer had never been caught, this matched all too well.
Living in such close quarters with a demon, Lin Yuanjiu must eventually have realized that the “mother” before her was no longer human. In her fury and horror, she had stabbed the spirit.
The demon, wounded, had fled Madam Lin’s body in rage and, in retaliation, devoured Lin Yuanjiu in one gulp, then slipped away again before anyone from Xuanji Pavilion arrived, leaving behind only the narrative that “Lin Yuanjiu killed her mother and fled in guilt.”
Only this could explain how a dutiful daughter turned “murderer” so abruptly.
Now Lin Yuanjiu and Madam Lin had already returned home and were refusing all rewards and visits.
So the first thing Shen Qing needed to do was find Li Daoxuan and have him take her to the Lin household. If Madam Lin truly was possessed by a demon, she needed someone at her side to help subdue it.
The Prince Cang’s manor was large, but luckily Shen Qing had been there in her previous life and knew very clearly which courtyard Li Daoxuan lived in. She also knew perfectly well which part of the wall she could climb to slip into his yard.
Staring up at the high courtyard wall, Cuizhi swallowed hard, eyes round. “Young master, are you… are you sure you want to climb into the Prince Cang’s manor? Won’t the guards beat us to death as thieves?”
Shen Qing said, “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m the one climbing, not you. Listen up, once I’m inside, go sit in the teahouse across the street and wait for me, understood?”
Cuizhi squeaked, “Ah”
“Don’t ‘ah’ me. Get going.” Shen Qing gave her a push out of the dead-end alley, then dusted off her hands and prepared to climb.
Inside Li Daoxuan’s courtyard, there was no one in sight. Only Qiuren lay coiled lazily on the rack where the practice spear stood. It seemed Li Daoxuan had stepped away for a bit, his sword was still resting on the stone table.
Shen Qing used every ounce of strength to haul herself up over the wall. Seeing no one in the courtyard, her brows knit together.
At this hour he usually liked to practice spear and sword right here. His sword was still on the stone table, yet he was nowhere to be found. Could he be resting inside?
With that question in mind, Shen Qing swung herself down from the wall, patted off the dust from her hem, and strode unceremoniously toward the door.
Qiuren cracked open his eyes to glance at her. Smelling a familiar scent, he shut them again, drowsy, and his tail swayed lazily.
Shen Qing reached out and scratched his head, and the snake obligingly rubbed against her palm.
Soon she reached the door and knocked lightly.
Moments later, a drawling, lazy voice drifted out from within. “Enter.”
At his word, Shen Qing pushed the door open and then closed it behind her.
A wave of hot, wet air hit her in the face, and in an instant beads of sweat broke out along her nose. She wiped it with her sleeve and followed the sound of his voice.
Li Daoxuan’s bedchamber was nothing like her father’s.
Years on the frontier had left Father Shen wreathed in a quiet, lethal aura; his chamber matched him, simple and strictly ordered, every line and surface reflecting discipline and restraint.
Li Daoxuan’s room was the opposite of his flamboyant reputation. Its layout was quiet and elegant, without piles of gold and jewels, without swathes of silks and brocade. A desk held a half-finished scroll of calligraphy or painting; the few objects present were simple but tasteful.
She had been here several times in her previous life as well, though always angry and here to demand answers, almost never this calm.
With a complicated feeling, Shen Qing walked toward a side room where the fog was the thickest. Several layers of gauze hung from the beams, the white veils and steam blurring her line of sight. The windows were shut, no lights lit. For the moment, she could not clearly see the silhouette within.
She went around a layer of gauze and came face-to-face with a screen. Behind it lay the source of the steam: a bath tub.
Only then did Shen Qing realize she had barged into where he was bathing. She immediately lifted a foot to back out and had just opened her mouth to call for him when a chill crawled up her spine.
Turning her head, she saw Li Daoxuan standing silently behind her, she had no idea when he had appeared. Drops of water pattered at his feet; his damp hair was still dripping.
The mist stirred the gauze into gentle movement. A swath of white veil brushed past his damp lashes, and before Li Daoxuan’s eyes fully adjusted and made out her face, his hand was already moving.
Shen Qing hadn’t even managed to make a sound before his fingers closed around her neck and yanked her backwards. Her shoulder slammed against the rim of the tub; pain shot through her scapula, and the sudden suffocating pressure made her face flush dark red. Water surged in from all directions, trying to force its way into her nose and mouth.
She clawed desperately at the hand at her throat. In her panic, Shen Qing groped up toward her hair, yanked out a hairpin, and did a quick calculation in her head. But as the lack of air grew worse, she had no more time to think. She simply gripped the head of the pin and drove the tail down as hard as she could.
Whether it was from the pain or something else, the hand on her throat loosened at last. In an uncharacteristic moment of “mercy,” he grabbed her fragile shoulder instead and hauled her up out of the bath.
Shen Qing coughed until her throat burned and her lungs ached. She was lucky, she’d held her breath the instant she hit the water, so she hadn’t actually choked. Even so, it wasn’t pleasant.
The skin of a woman’s back was delicate to begin with. After being scraped so hard along the edge of the tub, it burned hot and sharp; it was probably already broken.
Expressionless, she wiped the dripping water from her face and looked up at the culprit.
He had clearly just thrown on a night robe and stepped out of the tub. His black hair was plastered wet down his back; fine beads of water clung to his long lashes. In the lamplight off the warm steam, his dark eyes looked like they were rimmed with tears that had yet to fall.
Whether it was the long soak or the sudden movement, his lips had been steamed a deep, vivid red. From his throat down across his bare collarbones, faint blushes of color bloomed over his skin.
A beauty fresh from the bath, stunning enough to shake the heart.
If Shen Qing had had the leisure to appreciate the view, she would surely have thought of the Xing white-glaze ewer on his shelf: white as silver, snow-bright, with a soft, gentle sheen. She had always liked to pick that pot up and toy with it in her hands.
Li Daoxuan glanced at the familiar hairpin stuck in his arm, then at Shen Qing in her boy’s clothes, and, for the first time in his life, found himself briefly speechless.
He pulled the pin out, ignoring the blood welling from his arm, and strode barefoot toward the girl leaning against the side of the tub. “Such refined taste you have, Miss Shen,” he said coldly. “Sneaking into this prince’s bedchamber in broad daylight, dressed like this, to play the assassin.”
A moment ago, he’d been bathing when he heard a knock and assumed a servant had come to bring water. But the steps were too light, not the steady tread of someone carrying a load. Judging by the sound alone, the newcomer was either a woman or a trained fighter.
There were no women in his manor, and the other party had come straight toward the bath. Through the gauze, he could make out only the silhouette of a youth and had naturally assumed an assassin. So he had struck first.
But when that “youth” had yanked out a coronet pin to stab him, and he’d recognized the hairpin, he’d instantly thought of that little girl who had once barged in here looking for it, and his hand had paused.
Sure enough, the moment he got a clear look at her face, he knew he’d guessed right.
His expression dark, Li Daoxuan flicked the magnolia hairpin down onto the floor.
Shen Qing, who had just caught her breath, saw this and her smile spread wide across her lips. The corners of her eyes curved sweetly, though there was no warmth at all in her gaze. With a loud smack, red finger marks bloomed across the pale line of his cheek.
Li Daoxuan clearly hadn’t anticipated that. He froze for a heartbeat, anger flaring in his chest. He pressed his lips together, forcing down the urge to strike back. “What does Miss Shen think she’s doing?”
Facing his anger, Shen Qing showed not a trace of fear. Wearing her usual polite smile, she said, “My apologies, Your Highness. When I saw you suddenly throw away my hairpin, my hand just… lost control a little.”
She bent down, picked the pin back up, and slipped it into her sleeve in one smooth, unhurried motion, without the slightest hint of guilt.
This was the hairpin her mother had given her at her coming-of-age ceremony, carved from Lunsui jade that her father had specially ordered men to bring back from the summit of Tianshan. Lunsui jade was hard as black iron, and pieces of truly fine color and texture were extremely rare. Back then, her father had spent several years just to track down that palm-sized piece of stone.
Her mother had then spent a full four months, wearing out several sets of tools, slowly carving it into Shen Qing’s favorite magnolia design, and personally gifted it to her on the day of her hairpin ceremony.
Shen Qing had never expected that the hairpin she loved to wear most would end up serving as her weapon time and time again. Good thing the Lunsui jade was hard enough, otherwise, it would’ve snapped who knew how many times already.
At this moment, she was already starting to seriously consider finding herself a proper self-defense weapon. Given how often she was likely to land in danger from now on, this magnolia hairpin was really no longer suitable for everyday wear.
Li Daoxuan gave a cold laugh and suggested, “Since you can’t control your hand, why not just chop it off?”
Shen Qing shrank her neck and frowned. “Let’s not. I’m afraid of pain.”
Not interested in wasting more words, Li Daoxuan reached for the bath towel hanging beside the screen and rubbed his still-dripping hair dry in a few quick motions. As he moved, the collar of his dark night-robe gaped a little wider.
May you get a sty, Shen Qing thought silently.
Staring at the floor, she held out her hand toward him.
Li Daoxuan understood her meaning at once and tugged at the corner of his mouth. “There’s only this one. Miss Shen will have to make do.” The implication was obvious: there’s only one towel, take it or leave it.
As if an entire Prince Cang’s manor only had a single bath towel. Go lie to a ghost, Shen Qing thought, puffing out her cheeks as she trudged out of the bath room of her own accord, waiting for him to finish cleaning himself up.
On the way out, she didn’t forget to hook her Glass Heart pendant out from under her collar and dangle it ostentatiously in front of him. The moment he saw it, he really did become like Qiuren with its fangs tucked away, instantly more docile.
Grinding his teeth, he flung the towel onto her head.
With one finger, Shen Qing hooked a corner of the bath towel, her face full of disgust as she flipped it off and tossed it straight back into the tub. In an instant, the dark bathwater soaked the entire towel.
Expression stone-cold, Li Daoxuan opened a side cabinet and pulled out a fresh bath towel from inside.
Only then was Shen Qing willing to accept it. She took it, satisfied, and walked out. “I came here today to discuss something important. If Your Highness would be so kind as to move a bit faster and not keep me waiting.”
Li Daoxuan watched her retreating back for a long moment, his feelings a tangled mess, that was to say, he was furious and couldn’t get it out.
He moved quickly, though. By the time Shen Qing had only half dried her hair and set the jade lotus coronet aside on the table, he was already dressed and stepping out.
He was back in his usual red robe and black boots, but the high ponytail he always wore was now hanging loose down his back, and the silver vambraces were gone. The loss of those touches of martial flair added a hint of languid, almost seductive beauty to him. When that pair of deep, hook-eyed pupils turned her way, that snake-like gaze was downright wicked.
Every time Shen Qing looked into his eyes, she felt there was something terribly wrong with this person. No matter how she looked, he just screamed “final boss villain.”
She began to seriously suspect that he had gone to Dongshan Temple to learn skills purely to harm people, not to heal the world.
But over all these years, aside from being rebellious and doing things as he pleased, the worst he did was grab a few people by the throat to scare them. He hadn’t seemed to do any truly bad things, and the ones he killed had all been people who deserved it. Even the ones he “taught a lesson” had all been those who came looking for trouble first.
Yet in the book, he’d been written as some kind of feral, bloodthirsty demon lord, cruel, arrogant, evil to the bone, completely at odds with the quietly oppressive youth standing before her now.
But when Shen Qing remembered the ruthless way he’d handled the great demon, and the sword that had pierced straight through her heart in her previous life, her mood instantly sank again.
Quiet, my ass.
Never judge a book by its cover. Li Daoxuan is a dog.