Chapter 9#

Don’t Sleep with Your Husband#

Cicadas buzzed outside the window, and the night wind howled.

Yan Jianxiao had been carried back to the room Ying Qingye was staying in. The sword cultivators all lodged in this area, so Feng Shili naturally lived here too. He waited outside for a while before hearing his good brother tell him to come in.

Several candles burned in the room, warm incense drifting from the brazier, the atmosphere thick and intimate.

It wasn’t until Feng Shili entered that he realized Yan Jianxiao was already awake. Both of their robes were in disarray, and alarm bells immediately rang in his heart—he hadn’t come at a bad time, had he?

Feng Shili coughed, lowered his head, looking rather awkward, his gaze darting anywhere but at the person on the bed: “Sister… you’re awake?”

When it came to Yan Jianxiao, Feng Shili actually felt a bit guilty, because he was the one who had abandoned Yan Jianxiao’s sedan chair at the Outer Sect.

Back then, he hadn’t been unaware of what a five-spirit-root cultivator might face in the Outer Sect, but the way of the world had always been survival of the fittest. Besides, Ying Qingye’s attitude toward Yan Jianxiao had been unclear, so he hadn’t paid much attention to Yan Jianxiao’s existence.

But now Ying Qingye had made his stance clear, and naturally, Feng Shili wouldn’t treat Yan Jianxiao as an enemy either.

Yan Jianxiao looked completely bewildered: “…” Why was everyone calling him “sister” now?

Feng Shili quietly watched him for a moment, wanting to apologize, but he scratched his head and racked his brains for a long time, yet still couldn’t let go of the disdain for five spirit roots that had been ingrained in him after being the proud son of heaven for so many years. He would rather be won over by Yan Jianxiao’s strength than by Ying Qingye’s status.

So, he could only change the subject: “Qingye, about the Seven Sacred Treasures you mentioned last time—I found their location.”

Seven Sacred Treasures?

Yan Jianxiao blinked, turned his head to look at Ying Qingye, and remembered.

Ying Qingye had mentioned it to him before—that he would use the Seven Sacred Treasures to break the heart seal, and then divorce.

It seemed Ying Qingye really had taken this matter to heart; he genuinely wanted to divorce him.

…However, Yan Jianxiao thought about it, then recalled that these Seven Sacred Treasures were also powerful weapons. In the original novel, when the Qiao family was destroyed, they had contributed a great deal.

For a moment, Yan Jianxiao wasn’t sure what Ying Qingye was really seeking them for—was it for revenge, or for the divorce?

The so-called Seven Sacred Treasures were also described in the original book—Wangchuan Water, the Reincarnation Wheel, the Severing Fate Dagger, the No Regrets Stone, the Three Lives Mirror, the Wordless Stele, and the Heart Knot.

Ying Qingye suddenly raised his eyes. “Where?”

Feng Shili sat down and pulled out a rolled-up parchment map, but his expression was hesitant, his gaze periodically darting toward Yan Jianxiao—clearly wary of his presence.

Yan Jianxiao, reading the room, shrank back into the bedding, pretending he was going to sleep… His spiritual power was low, so he fell asleep easily and wasn’t easy to wake up—the two of them could rest assured!

Unexpectedly, Ying Qingye suddenly reached out and pulled him back out, then looked at Feng Shili and said calmly, “She’ll be coming along too. No need to guard against her.”

Yan Jianxiao: “!”

Yan Jianxiao was almost moved to tears. He’d finally gotten to latch onto this powerful thigh after all?!

However, he wasn’t that presumptuous. Yan Jianxiao thought for a moment, then got up and wrote: “I’ll go out anyway. This is a good chance to test how far this brush can go from you.”

Feng Shili visibly let out a sigh of relief, a hint of genuine warmth entering his smile as he made way.

Ying Qingye was silent, but his brows furrowed.

Yan Jianxiao quickly got up, wrapped in his bedding, and scurried out like a rabbit.

The room was left with only the two brothers. Feng Shili clicked his tongue, looking at Ying Qingye. “Qingye, what did you mean by that just now? Do you know how much effort I put into getting this map? If he really is someone Qiao Weiyang sent… you’re done for! That man’s sister is much more sensible than you!”

As he spoke, he raised a hand and cast a sound-isolation spell.

Feng Shili was the second legitimate son of the Feng family, one of the twelve great clans of the Upper Cultivation World. He possessed a Saint-grade single water spirit root. He was a talisman cultivator, proficient in all kinds of charms and formation arrays. That brush was something he’d made after hearing Ying Qingye’s idea—he’d given Ying Qingye a talisman, which was affixed to the brush.

He had grown up pampered and privileged. When he was a child, he’d been bitten by a vicious beast, and Ying Qingye, who happened to be passing by, had saved him. Because of that life-saving grace, the two became close friends.

Ying Qingye said nothing, staring at him for a while before finally speaking: “Alright, bring it out.”

…

The room was very quiet. Outside, the moonlight was like water, spilling across the ground.

Yan Jianxiao, wrapped in his little blanket and curled into a ball, sat on the steps, scribbling aimlessly with the brush.

This little brush was very light. It seemed you could put a certain amount of spiritual power into it, and when it ran out, you could put more in, allowing for continuous writing.

Yan Jianxiao didn’t know if this sort of thing was common in the Upper Cultivation World, but—just like that little token—he liked it quite a lot.

Suddenly, the bedding stirred, and Doubao crawled out. Yan Jianxiao had no idea when it had gotten there. Startled, he wrote: “How are you here?”

Doubao yawned. “I came when you were unconscious… Hey, why didn’t you stay and listen in? That’s the Seven Sacred Treasures! Even if you can’t get them yourself, you could sell the information about where the treasures are located and make a fortune in spirit stones—enough to live comfortably without a care.”

Yan Jianxiao was stunned, tempted for a brief second, but still wrote: “No need.”

If something belonged to him, he would defend it resolutely. But what didn’t belong to him… there was no need to force it.

Doubao stared at him for a moment, then said, “Fine. Then why didn’t you tell me you’re a m—mmph!!”

Before the cat could finish, Yan Jianxiao hastily clamped a hand over its mouth, staring at this shameless little kitten with utter shock.

Even the characters he wrote were full of righteous indignation: “You crawled on my chest?!! You pervert!”

Doubao: “How is that possible! I just accidentally lay on your chest! I noticed it was soft in a weird way! And that it could flatten! Also, I’m male too! Don’t look at me with those eyes!”

Yan Jianxiao: “…”

That was hardly any better than crawling on his chest!

Yan Jianxiao was furious enough to die, shifted his body, and decided to cut ties with this cat.

Doubao: “I’m sorry, okay, my lady… Come on, pay attention to me. Do you know that among the Seven Sacred Treasures, the No Regrets Stone is an ‘utmost sincerity’ object?”

An utmost sincerity object? Yan Jianxiao vaguely felt the term sounded familiar… Wait, hadn’t Cang Xiao mentioned it?!

“You were there during the spirit crystal ball thing too?” Yan Jianxiao wrote, shocked.

Doubao asked in surprise, “No? Why, did someone else bring it up?”

Yan Jianxiao was silent for a moment, staring at him suspiciously.

There wasn’t a trace of guilt in Doubao’s green eyes.

…Yan Jianxiao reluctantly believed him, nodded, and wrote: “Cang Xiao said that an ‘utmost sincerity’ object could cure muteness.”

Doubao was stunned for a moment. “That old geezer—he’s come out of seclusion?”

He seemed very familiar with the Canglin Sect. Yan Jianxiao stared at him with growing suspicion and wrote: Who exactly are…

The brush tip suddenly vanished. Out of spiritual power.

Doubao: “…”

Yan Jianxiao: “!!!”

Out already?! Yan Jianxiao shook the brush, a little dejected, his small brows furrowing as he rested his chin on his knees.

But it seemed misfortunes never came alone in this world. The brush had barely been put away when a glimmer of spiritual light appeared on Yan Jianxiao’s finger, quickly transforming into a palm-sized letter that floated down and landed in front of him.

Yan Jianxiao’s face suddenly went pale.

—On his fingers were some hard calluses, small bumps from being burned over and over again throughout the years.

He had been skinny and small since childhood, often falling ill in the Punishment Servant Pavilion. The overseer of the pavilion had once wanted to abandon him because of it. It was Yan Jianxiao’s mother who had kept him. When the pavilion distributed a meal, she would eat half and keep half, bringing the rest back for Yan Jianxiao.

Later, his mother died. He grew a bit older, and with his striking beauty, the Qiao family’s steward placed him by Qiao Weiyang’s side to do light work like serving tea and water.

But Qiao Weiyang had a terrible temper, smashing cups and bowls at the slightest provocation. Whenever his cultivation wasn’t going well, he would also throw fits and torment people.

Qiao Weiyang would make him hold a scalding hot teacup without moving, wait until it cooled, then replace it with another scalding one… on and on in a cycle. And so a bit of callus had formed on his fingertips—a unique mark Qiao Weiyang had left on him.

Through this, Qiao Weiyang could contact Yan Jianxiao one-way at any time.

Like now.

“What’s this?” Doubao asked, puzzled, looking at Yan Jianxiao, not understanding why his face had suddenly gone pale.

Yan Jianxiao lowered his head to look at the letter, his fingers suddenly clenching, trembling with anger—

「So it looks like Ying Qingye kept you after all. The life-verification stone actually showed you weren’t dead… Then bring your useless husband to see me at the Heavenly Pill Festival. After all, as your former master, I naturally have to give you a wedding gift too, don’t I, Xiao Xiao?」

「Tell Ying Qingye to come as well. Then, considering our past relationship, I might even give him a Broken Origin Pill.」

Through the letter, Yan Jianxiao could almost picture the contemptuous smile in those peachy eyes of that man.

Yan Jianxiao tore the letter to shreds, his expression blank.

A Broken Origin Pill—a medicine that allows cultivators to reshape their muscles and bones, used only at the Foundation Establishment stage. It was a blatant insult to Ying Qingye.

Meanwhile, at Chizhuo Sect, in the Golden Jade Palace.

Sizzle.

A tongue of fire suddenly burst from the sandalwood furnace. The young man seated quietly at the table opened his eyes. A face was reflected in the teacup—a youthful face with wheat-colored skin, and beneath thick, dark brows, a pair of flirtatious peach blossom eyes.

Qiao Weiyang narrowed his eyes, reached out to touch the sandalwood furnace, paused for a moment, and then a flicker of disbelief rose in his gaze—

That filthy little slave actually dared to tear up the letter he’d written?!

…

“Isn’t it cold out here, sitting for so long?”

Ying Qingye’s voice suddenly came from behind. Yan Jianxiao was startled and instinctively gathered up the torn pieces of the letter, hiding them in his sleeve.

He didn’t want to tell Ying Qingye what the letter said. He didn’t want Qiao Weiyang humiliating Ying Qingye.

It was a strange feeling, and Yan Jianxiao couldn’t say why he didn’t want anyone to humiliate Ying Qingye.

He stood up, trying to muster his spirits, and looked at Ying Qingye happily, gesturing twice.

Seeing this, Ying Qingye understood that the brush had run out of spiritual power. He chuckled softly, reached out, and placed his hand on the brush—

In an instant, a golden mark appeared on Ying Qingye’s forehead, like a small golden dragon. It was the symbol of a single gold spirit root.

Yan Jianxiao was stunned for a moment, staring at him.

Under the moonlight, Ying Qingye looked handsome and striking, that golden mark radiating an imposing aura.

…So handsome! Yan Jianxiao blinked, instinctively reaching up to touch it.

Ying Qingye instinctively dodged.

Yan Jianxiao froze for a second, then quickly withdrew his hand and wrote: “Sorry QAQ!”

Ying Qingye knew at once what he was thinking and said helplessly, “It’s not that I’m avoiding you. I’m afraid the killing intent of the gold spirit root will rush into you.”

Yan Jianxiao blinked, nodded with an “mm-hmm” — he didn’t quite believe it, but he didn’t dislike it either.

He was probably being a little too forward with Ying Qingye…

It was good to sober up a bit.

The moonlight made that pretty, pale little face appear to carry an air of pure innocence.

…She looked obedient to a fault, believing anything, like someone who’d be easy to bully. Ying Qingye couldn’t help but reach out, pulling him up, and led him inside the room.

There was no one in the room anymore.

Yan Jianxiao looked at Ying Qingye in confusion and wrote: “Where’d he go?”

Ying Qingye: “He left through the back door. It’s closer to his dormitory.”

Yan Jianxiao suddenly understood.

Wait—that meant he’d been sleeping in Ying Qingye’s bed just now?!

Yan Jianxiao’s ears flushed burning red in an instant, and even the blanket wrapped around him felt like a hot potato.

The faint scent on the bedding, like a cold, snowy plain, wrapped around him completely.

Ying Qingye helped him back onto the couch, only to see Yan Jianxiao like a rabbit retreating into its burrow, pulling the blanket up to cover nearly his entire head.

Ying Qingye frowned.

“Are you cold?”

Yan Jianxiao wrote haltingly, “N-no, not cold. Are we… going to sleep together?”

Ying Qingye stiffened.

Yan Jianxiao didn’t really want to sleep with him—Doubao’s words just now had reminded him that if they accidentally touched, his disguise as a woman would definitely be exposed.

“…I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“I’ll sleep on the floor!”

The characters Yan Jianxiao wrote appeared almost at the same moment as Ying Qingye’s voice.

Ying Qingye: “…”

Yan Jianxiao looked dazed for a moment: “…?”

Why would Ying Qingye, the owner of the room, be the one to propose sleeping on the floor?

The candles beside the table shed tear after tear of wax, piling up on the table like the ambiguous atmosphere rising in the room.

Suddenly, Yan Jianxiao moved. Rustling in his blanket, he shuffled down to the floor, spreading the bedding out to make a pallet.

Little did he expect that the floor tiles in a sword cultivator’s residence were all smelted from the coldest ores deep underground. The moment his bottom hit the floor—even through the blanket—Yan Jianxiao sneezed hard:

“Ah-choo…”

Even the little mute’s sneeze was soft, barely a proper sound. Yan Jianxiao, injured as he was, crouched there like a little ball of sticky rice.

Utterly pitiful.

Ying Qingye: “…”

Ying Qingye crossed the room in two or three steps, suddenly reaching down and scooping him up onto the bed in one motion.

Yan Jianxiao’s gaze flickered with panic, dropping his brush, terrified that Ying Qingye would discover he was a boy. He hastily shrank deeper into the bed, leaving only that pair of beautiful, mist-veiled eyes, peering at him timidly.

His whole body radiated the resistant message: Don’t come any closer!

Ying Qingye: “…”

Ying Qingye raised an eyebrow, suddenly wanting to tease him, so he sat down beside the bed.

Yan Jianxiao’s eyes widened. In his extreme nervousness, a faint, broken whimper escaped his throat:

“Ugh!”

Don’t come over!

Ying Qingye smiled, looking down at him, his voice very soft: “What are you so afraid of?”

Yan Jianxiao’s eyelashes trembled.

Wuwuwu, the one who should be afraid is you… if you come any closer, you’re going to find out your wife is actually a husband, you know…

Ying Qingye raised his hand—