Chapter 13#
Chapter 13: Bubbles#
Feng Xianyu: “…”
He stared at the suspended speck of light, and suddenly an improbable thought sprang to mind—these white mists were composed of resentment that wouldn’t dissolve. Could it be Yan Pei?
Feng Xianyu had earlier claimed to have a method for communicating with spirits, which was completely made up. Even if such a method existed, it should belong to the Miaomiao Mountain sect, not to him from the Qingdu Mountain.
Yet a lie had come true. Perhaps he really should take up fortune-telling.
Thinking this, Feng Xianyu tentatively asked, “Is it… Young Master Yan?”
But no one answered him. The white mist spread out in a grand surge, forming a scroll painting. What first appeared was a grand wedding scene—Yan Pei and A Yue, both dressed in bright red wedding robes, bowing gracefully to each other.
Most worldly joys are similar: Yan Pei drank cup after cup of wine, his face flushed red, joy brimming from his brow.
They had guessed correctly. Yan Pei, during his lifetime, was indeed the kind of gentle, good-natured, and refined person. No matter what A Yue said or did, he would watch her without blinking. Over time, he even made A Yue blush. She clutched her sleeves, her face burning crimson, and turned slightly away, refusing to face Yan Pei directly.
Yan Pei would then shift angles, find a new spot, and continue watching A Yue, softly calling her, “Yue’er.”
The red candles crackled and burned until dawn.
The next morning, Yan Pei clumsily helped A Yue with her morning toiletries and even wanted to draw her eyebrows. A Yue, annoyed beyond endurance, shot him a feigned glare of helpless anger, then closed her eyes and let Yan Pei do it.
Their lives were entirely submerged in ordinary, mundane daily routines—just what to eat and drink today, exchanging a few jokes, buying some useless trinkets. Yet it was flavorful and satisfying.
Yan Pei worked as a teacher at a nearby village school. During festive seasons, villagers would come to their door, leading their children by the hand with one hand and carrying tuition fees in the other. Their home was always lively and bustling. If they lacked anything, A Yue would go out and return with plenty of silver, claiming it was from selling her embroidery. Yan Pei believed her and didn’t pry.
Though he appeared mute, he was actually quite talkative. A Yue would always listen to him with a smile, no trace of malice on her face. She radiated vitality, and her smiles were completely genuine.
But… she was ultimately a born demon.
Smack—
The memories burst like bubbles, the scene freezing on that early summer morning. A Yue said she wanted to go to the town to buy some things. Yan Pei got up to accompany her, but she smilingly pushed him back into the house, saying, “I want to browse alone. Make me dinner, alright? I want fish—the spicy kind.”
“I heard from the neighbors that recently some demon cultivators have been lurking around. Several immortal masters have met with misfortune. Yue’er, maybe you shouldn’t go out,” Yan Pei said worriedly.
A Yue dismissed his concern: “It’s fine. I’ll come back safe and sound. Just wait for me at home.”
She stood at the threshold in her light-colored dress, smiling faintly at him. She was truly beautiful.
The white mist dispersed. Feng Xianyu stood there in a daze, then snapped back to reality and frowned as he rushed toward the cave.
Yan Pei still lay there peacefully. Unlike the previous two times—his loose hair showed signs of being singed and curled, a large clump of it, and his face bore traces of being scorched by fire.
Just as he thought, Feng Xianyu mused, judging by the damage to the snake corpse earlier, restarting didn’t restore it. He guessed that preserving the body from decay was already difficult; if there was damage, it certainly couldn’t be repaired.
To forcibly make A Yue let go of her obsession, the only way was to push everything to a point of no return.
For instance… by destroying Yan Pei’s corpse.
If there was no corpse, what would A Yue use to resurrect him?
Feng Xianyu took a deep breath, pulled a dagger from his Qiankun pouch, and thought, Forgive me, then gathered his strength and aimed a downward thrust at Yan Pei’s face.
A Yue had just managed to burst in, and what she saw was Feng Xianyu about to strike Yan Pei with his blade.
The scene was so stimulating that all the blood in her body surged along her meridians to her head: “No—”
Her demonic energy exploded outward, centering on A Yue. Wherever it passed, even the dust stopped in midair. Zhuoyu’s sword also halted at her back.
The moment she rushed in, Feng Xianyu knew things had gone terribly wrong. He had been on the verge of success, but his dagger had only barely pierced Yan Pei’s brow. No matter what, he couldn’t push it any further.
The spattered droplets of blood hung suspended above Yan Pei’s forehead like red pearls.
Feng Xianyu: “…”
A Yue’s eyes, fixed on Feng Xianyu, blazed with fury. Her jaw clenched audibly as she seemed to swear to tear him limb from limb. Feng Xianyu knew he had completely incurred A Yue’s wrath, but there was no help for it.
Seeing her about to pull out the bone flute, everything would have to start over.
“Wait!” Feng Xianyu’s mind raced, and he shouted, “Senior, why do you need to deceive yourself?”
A Yue’s movements froze, and then she sneered, “I think you’re the one deceiving yourself.”
“You can just kill us,” Feng Xianyu said, meeting A Yue’s gaze calmly. “But then, the person who can resurrect Young Master Yan might not appear for who knows how long.”
A Yue said, “Didn’t you say you couldn’t? Either way, I have to wait. My lifespan is long; I can afford the wait.”
“Is that so?” Feng Xianyu drawled. “In my humble opinion, this illusion of yours, Senior, might not last much longer.”
Seeing A Yue’s expression sour, Feng Xianyu hesitated. He wasn’t certain about that matter yet. How could he confirm it?
Just then, Zhuoyu suddenly spoke. His voice was like the clear sound of a zither, his tone very certain: “The wound on Yan Pei’s stomach was made by your blade.”
“Shut up!!!” A Yue instantly reversed her blade, slashing at Zhuoyu’s throat. “You’re asking for death!”
At that moment, a clear, gentle male voice sounded: “Yue’er.”
A Yue turned around in astonishment.
After a long while, as if in a dream, she answered dazedly, “Yan Lang, is that you?”
“It’s me.” Feng Xianyu was so nervous his fingers went numb, but he tried his best to imitate Yan Pei’s tone from what he’d seen in the white mist, along with the curve of his smile, and said softly, “Come over and see me, will you?”
Feng Xianyu’s heart was practically in his throat.
After a long moment, he finally saw A Yue’s blade move away from Zhuoyu’s neck, and she walked over slowly.
…That was close!
But why, though he had saved him, did Zhuoyu still look so displeased?
Feng Xianyu decided to ignore him for now. Choosing his words carefully, he asked A Yue gently, “The fish soup I made for you—did you drink it?”
A Yue stopped three steps away, like someone hesitant to approach their hometown: “…I drank it.”
In a daze, A Yue seemed to truly return to that day. She had changed her mind then, didn’t go anywhere, just wandered a bit and came back, savoring Yan Pei’s cooking one sip at a time.
Yan Pei asked her, “Is it good?”
“Not spicy enough,” she said pretending to be picky.
Yan Pei then counted on his fingers how many chili peppers he had added, finally promising to add more next time.
A Yue nodded. “That’s more like it.”
Yan Pei watched her drink the soup from the side, not speaking for a long time.
A Yue wiped her mouth and asked curiously, “Why aren’t you talking? Aren’t you usually quite talkative?”
Yan Pei still looked at her with that gentle expression. After a moment, he said, “Just hurts a bit. Don’t feel like talking.”
“Hurts?” A Yue immediately grew anxious upon hearing that. “Where does it hurt? Are you injured? Did you hurt yourself while cleaning the fish? That shouldn’t be—or did you bump into something?”
“My stomach hurts,” Yan Pei said, his tone still flat. “But it’s nothing serious.”
“How could it be nothing serious—” A Yue’s words caught in her throat as she noticed that the front of his robe was already soaked through with blood.
The blood had seeped through his clothes, staining her hands. It was warm, like the fish soup warming on the stove.
“…Yue’er.” Yan Pei smiled, but blood had already begun to gush endlessly from his mouth, a horrifying sight. “…I never knew your blade was so… so…”
So what?
A Yue was completely frozen, at a loss for how to react. How could Yan Pei die? How could he happen to die at her hands? How could this be?
She had just been itching for a fight, wanting to kill a few cultivators.
She was a demon cultivator. What was so strange about that?
She had just acted as before, in the snake den, smiling as she waited for those foolish cultivators to fall into her trap, even telling her little snake that after it was done, she’d go back to drink Yan Pei’s soup.
Why was Yan Pei together with those cultivators?
Why hadn’t he listened and stayed obediently at home?
The scene of that day was etched into her bones. She had thrown her blade without looking, then leaped down from the snake’s head to see what kind of prey had come this time. But that one look had scared her soul out of her body.
Lying among those cultivators was Yan Pei.
His abdomen had a large gash, with torrents of blood gushing out, forming a pool. His pupils were wide open—so this was how much blood a person could lose.
A Yue’s whole body went cold. At that moment, her mind stopped working. How was it possible? How? How?
She couldn’t stand anymore. Staggering, she fell beside Yan Pei: “No… no… I didn’t… it wasn’t me. I just went for a stroll… no, I was tricked into coming too. No… it wasn’t me…”
Yan Pei looked at her, the shock on his face unmistakable: “Yue… Yue’er…”
“…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t!” A Yue scrambled for words, pressing her hands over Yan Pei’s wound. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”
Frantically, she shoved spiritual pills into Yan Pei’s mouth.
But it was almost useless. Yan Pei’s breath came in ragged gasps through a broken-bellows throat. His life and body heat were rapidly draining away. Finally, with his last bit of strength, he said, “…I never knew your blade was so… so…”
Before he could finish, his eyes still open, he breathed his last.
A Yue remembered returning home that day. The neighbors, not knowing what had happened, said to her, “Some immortal masters passed through our village and said demon cultivators were lurking again. You hadn’t come back, so your husband was worried and went out with them. Where is he? Did you miss each other?”
A Yue had no strength left to speak.
With heavy steps, she pushed open the door. The moment she looked up, the fish soup Yan Pei had made was still warming on the stove, the firewood not yet extinguished.
It’s okay, A Yue thought.
She sat at the table, properly drank the soup Yan Pei had made for her, and reached into her Qiankun pouch for that forbidden artifact—the bone of ice. As long as she wished, time would stop for her, until the person her master spoke of arrived and brought her Yan Lang back to the mortal world.