After a Fake Death, the Emotionless Dao Senior Sister Became Obsessed - Chapter 64

Zhu Zhao couldn’t sleep that night.

She was listless and couldn’t eat. She soaked in the pool in her room, her back aching and weak, looking up at the moon.

The sound of water reached her ears. Huai Lang came beside her, holding a small wooden tray with some light snacks.

Zhu Zhao forced herself to bite into a few of the small fish-shaped pastries, but the taste in her mouth was not the sweet flavor of plum preserves.

There were no plum blossom cakes in Yaoguang Marsh.

She recalled that Jing Si had, in the stone cave where they took shelter from the rain, made exquisite plum blossom cakes for her despite being blind.

But she hadn’t touched a single bite.

That night, she was told by Luo Yu that Jing Si was Si Jing.

The demon cultivator who was good at disguising herself, using a false name to deceive her, and wanting to form a bond with her.

After escaping that night, Zhu Zhao thought she would never encounter the woman again. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned.

Not only in Danyong City, but even in Yaoguang Marsh, she was pursued, and those shameful and embarrassing things happened.

The patch of snow-white cuff that mysteriously appeared in her palm was hidden away in a secret place by Zhu Zhao.

She had intended to burn it to ashes, but without the cuff, there were other things.

The woman’s behavior was unlike her outwardly detached and aloof appearance; beneath the cold exterior hid an almost pathological obsession, like pervasive water vapor, seeping into every part of her body.

Zhu Zhao, in the warm water, suddenly felt exposed and hurriedly curled up.

Huai Lang reached out to brush away the pastry crumbs from the corner of her mouth, her eyes filled with worry.

She didn’t know why Little Fish, just after going to Xizhou with Luo Yu, had become this way.

Was she bullied? Or was she frightened by witnessing the demon energy rampant in Xizhou?

Huai Lang embraced the lightly trembling girl, her arms tightening, and asked in the tone she remembered using to coax Little Fish Fry: “Zhao Zhao, do you want more Honey Qiongjiang (Nectar Elixir)?”

If she drank a little, perhaps she would want to tell her everything.

Huai Lang lowered her head dejectedly.

She had always been forced to remain an outsider. She was the one who was there from the beginning, but the little red fish never lingered by her side.

It used to be Gui Ji, and now… it had become Luo Yu.

Huai Lang brought the jade goblet containing the Honey Qiongjiang, and Zhu Zhao obediently took it with her mouth. After just a few drops, her cheeks flushed, and she smacked her lips in satisfaction.

She stopped pondering the things that had troubled her all day, pouncing to snatch, “A-Lang, I want more.”

“Drinking too much will make you dizzy.” Huai Lang held it high.

Unexpectedly, the little fish’s strength when causing trouble was great, and a few drops of the nectar splashed onto her neck.

Zhu Zhao tilted her head to look for a while, then actually leaned in and used her tongue to trace and lick up the nectar adhering to her skin.

Her voice was blurry, “So sweet.”

Plop.

The jade goblet fell into the pool.

Huai Lang’s chest rose and fell, steadying the little fish’s chin as she rubbed haphazardly against her neck. The area grazed by the wet softness felt unbearably itchy.

Her throat moved, and her voice was extremely soft, “Zhao Zhao, you…”

A palpitating sensation rose in her chest, along with a hint of hidden, morally reprehensible feeling that made her despise herself.

It was only because the little fish was once her blood sister, and in three days, she would be the bonding partner of the Immortal Lady Zhuo Qing.

Yet, she was having indecent thoughts.

“A-Lang.” Zhu Zhao rubbed comfortably against her palm. “You, you have a fever! Nng, A-Zhu wants to sleep…”

She liked the warm water waves and Huai Lang’s comforting and secure embrace.

“Like before, A-Lang, tell me a story, okay?” she asked softly.

Huai Lang felt her heart soften.

She had never been so close to anyone in the past millennium. A blush spread across her face, and she spoke quietly, only asking, “What does Zhao Zhao want to hear?”

The little fish dragon was also a lightweight, falling asleep after just a few drops, resting on her embrace. “I want to hear Wuwu’s story.”

“Wuwu?” Huai Lang thought for a moment, then understood. “Is it… Jiang Yun?”

She could utter these two words smoothly because the secret decree concerning Jiang Yun within the clan was set by her own hand.

Zhu Zhao buried her head in her arms and nodded.

She was very drunk, and Huai Lang’s voice in her ears was very ethereal, requiring concentration to catch.

“Jiang Yun, huh.” Huai Lang’s gaze was gentle, lingering on Zhu Zhao for a good while.

“She was once the first fish dragon in the Nine Provinces, and the first person to be called ‘Immortal Venerable’.”

“At that time, the spiritual was waiting to be opened, the Xuanmen (Mystic Gate) was not yet established, and the Nine Provinces were under the brutal rule of the Ancient Dragon Clan, turbulent and chaotic.”

“Jiang Yun personally destroyed the Ancient Dragon Clan, channeled spiritual energy into the earth’s meridians, and the Xuanmen was thus initially formed. She traveled the mountains and rivers with her sword, eliminating countless demons.”

“The world called her—Lord Hengwu.”

Huai Lang remembered that Jiang Yun had awakened much earlier than her.

Huai Lang disliked fighting and killing, and she slept in the Yaoguang Marsh, which was a desolate area at the time. Jiang Yun, however, was the opposite: bright and flamboyant. By the time Huai Lang woke up, Jiang Yun had usually traveled through most of the Nine Provinces.

The fish dragon, as crimson as the morning glow, was enormous in its original form, yet she was only a little over a hundred years old.

Jiang Yun transformed into a human form using illusionary techniques. Her appearance was beautiful and alluring, a smile always playing on her lips.

She lightly tapped her foot on Huai Lang’s head, which was floating above the water, calling out, “A-Lang—look what I brought you?”

It was new clothing from the human world, a soft, goose-yellow sheer garment that fluttered, like the shimmering light of scales emerging from the water.

Huai Lang didn’t like getting too close to humans, and she especially resisted dressing up as one.

But when she looked sideways, Jiang Yun was watching her, resting her chin on her hand, full of expectation.

Huai Lang reluctantly transformed into human form and changed into the clothes. As she was confusedly tugging left and right, she didn’t expect the soft, cloud-like body to suddenly press against her.

Jiang Yun sniffed carefully at her neck, “Did A-Lang secretly drink Qiongjiang (Nectar Elixir)? I want some too!”

“Absolutely not.” Huai Lang turned her head away.

Just then, her skewed collar was straightened. Jiang Yun pulled back, smiling broadly, “I thought A-Lang was shaking badly, and was completely drunk.”

“Turns out… you’re just shy.”

Embarrassed, Huai Lang scooped a handful of water and splashed it at her, “Don’t say that!”

The red waves surged before her eyes, and the voice of laughter was melodious. For a moment, she dared not meet the gaze of the woman who shone like a crimson cloud.

Letting Huai Lang splash water on her, Jiang Yun blinked and leaned closer, her face flushed pink, her breath sweet with nectar. “Don’t be mad, it was me, I drank the Qiongjiang (Nectar Elixir).”

“Since A-Lang has accepted the gift, will you also agree to one of my wishes?”

“I want to… swim to the west, to the sea bordering the ancient Dragon Clan’s territory and the human realm. Will A-Lang agree?”

“Nonsense.” Huai Lang pursed her lips tightly. “I forbid it.”

That was the very edge of the ancient Dragon Clan’s territory. Not only was it desolate and withered, but recently, there was also a blood mist generated by excessive killing—humans called it demonic energy—and it was extraordinarily vicious.

How could she allow Jiang Yun to go to such a place?

But the morning glow that travels with the wind cannot be confined by a gentle pool.

Huai Lang could not stop Jiang Yun.

When she went to sleep at night, she was coaxed by Jiang Yun into drinking a lot of Qiongjiang. When she woke up again, her head felt heavy.

She staggered along, flying on the wind, rushing to Xizhou, which was being invaded by demonic energy at the time.

The sea that Jiang Yun spoke of was much more vast than the pool they inhabited, only its waters were a deep crimson.

Huai Lang glimpsed Jiang Yun sitting on a solitary island reef in the sea, her clothes billowing.

She had her back to Huai Lang, holding a small xun (a Chinese globular flute) that could play ethereal music. Her snow-white calves were immersed in the corrosive blood water, looking particularly unrestrained.

The sky was dark, thick clouds rolled, and the music attracted the prying eyes of an ancient dragon. A massive golden pupil emerged from the clouds, filled with warning and hostility, roaring incessantly.

“Is it calling me?” Jiang Yun looked up, the corners of her lips curved. “You don’t seem very old. Call your ancestors.”

The dragon hesitated.

From the woman’s eyes, which were filled with golden flecks, the dragon perceived a hint of thinly veiled murderous intent.

“…Wuwu.” The blustering dragon whimpered, hid in the clouds, and was clumsy enough to expose the tip of its trembling tail.

Jiang Yun laughed joyfully, her eyes curving, the golden flecks shattering entirely into streams of light.

She continued to play the xun bought from the human realm, not turning back even when Huai Lang stepped onto the cloud beside her.

Huai Lang felt a trace of loneliness emanating from the usually bright crimson figure.

Jiang Yun had always been very obedient in front of her, but that day, she did not listen to her and return to the Great Marsh with her.

She remained a solitary figure with a thin back, playing one human tune after another, not knowing for whom she played.

When she was tired, she seemed to be talking to herself, yet also hinting at something.

Stroking the cold stone beneath her, which seemed eternally impossible to warm, she opened her mouth with a smile:

“You say, when will the Nine Provinces finally return to the Gui Ji (Return to Clarity/Dawn)?”

In the following years, Jiang Yun frequently lingered around the periphery of the blood sea.

She was skilled in illusionary techniques, so she settled in Xizhou, helping ordinary people resist the demonic energy and even the assaults of the ancient Dragon Clan.

Her crimson clothes were like the dawn, piercing through the dark haze. In the eyes of mortals, her illusionary techniques were like immortal miracles, and the people, unaware of the full truth, yearned for her and called her “Immortal Venerable.”

When Huai Lang awoke again in the Great Marsh, Jiang Yun was leaning in a small boat, smiling faintly, and telling her about this matter.

“Don’t go back to Xizhou, or that blood sea where the demonic energy surges.” She held Jiang Yun’s sleeve corner and tugged disapprovingly.

She preferred comfort and ease and did not understand why Jiang Yun repeatedly put herself in danger.

She only wanted to open her eyes every day and see that crimson figure; she did not want Jiang Yun to disappear into the boundless blood sea at all.

“But, A-Lang.” Jiang Yun leaned forward and gently stroked her head in comfort.

“I really like the human realm.” Her eyes were clear.

“If I retreat, Xizhou will become a battlefield and a purgatory in just a few days. By then, corpses will litter the fields, and demonic energy will breed. I presume A-Lang wouldn’t want to see that either.”

Huai Lang shook her head silently, submerged in the water.

She didn’t care about anyone or anything in the world.

As long as… Jiang Yun could stay by her side.

Jiang Yun still did not remain in the Great Marsh.

Huai Lang often secretly went to that blood sea and always saw the slender figure she worried about, playing the xun while softly whispering to the cold stone beneath her.

She thought gloomily, didn’t Jiang Yun already have her? Why did she have to travel such a great distance to sit and talk with an unconscious object?

However, everything changed on the day Jiang Yun quietly returned to the Great Marsh.

Huai Lang saw Jiang Yun holding a long sword, meticulously wiping it clean.

Jiang Yun never used a sword, and Huai Lang had almost never seen such an expression on her face.

Her usual flamboyance was restrained, replaced by a quiet tenderness and pity.

“A-Lang?” Jiang Yun spotted her secretly looking from under the water and joyfully waved at her. “Look, this is my new sword.”

Huai Lang’s chest felt inexplicably sore and stuffy. She swam over without a word.

She heard Jiang Yun murmur, as if discussing with the sword, “What name should I give you?”

“How about… Gui Ji?”

The sword briefly vibrated in the soft crimson embrace, its light surpassing snow, pure and bright.

“It… made a sound?” Huai Lang spoke up, concealing some emotion. “It must be an evil object.”

Jiang Yun looked at her with curved eyes and finally couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Huai Lang later learned that Jiang Yun’s sword was not an inanimate object.

It was forged from the thousand-year cold iron she obtained from the blood sea, the only mystical sword in the Nine Provinces that contained a spiritual essence.

The turmoil in Xizhou was temporarily calmed, allowing Jiang Yun to linger in the Great Marsh.

But Huai Lang noticed that Jiang Yun no longer liked to transform into her original form and swim and play with her in the water. Instead, she always held the cold sword and whispered secrets to it.

“You said, you’re two thousand years old?” Jiang Yun bit her lip.

Huai Lang bumped the small boat where Jiang Yun was with her head, feeling annoyed.

Two thousand years old was much too old; she was only about the same age as Jiang Yun.

At night, Jiang Yun habitually hugged the long sword even when she slept, quietly asking, “Gui Ji, do you know what the human concept of ‘getting married’ means?”

“Why do a man and a woman blush when their mouths meet, and they can’t separate?”

Huai Lang urgently swam beneath Jiang Yun’s small boat.

Although she didn’t know what “getting married” meant either, she absolutely would not allow Jiang Yun to be involved with any ordinary man.

It seemed the question was too complicated. Gui Ji did not provide an answer, only resting quietly in Jiang Yun’s embrace.

Huai Lang paced for a long time, and when no answer came, she had to temporarily rest.

The water waves rippled at night, the reflection of the small boat was distorted, scattering the moonlight.

Huai Lang uncharacteristically did not sleep well.

When she woke up, she habitually poked her head out of the water to look at the crimson figure in the small boat, only to find a glaring snow-white figure next to her.

It was an extremely aloof and elegant woman.

Her ink-black hair was unbound, spread over her shoulders, her thin lips were crimson, and her peach blossom eyes held a frosty indifference.

She leaned down and kissed Jiang Yun’s lips, which had been ravaged and glistened with moisture, then swiftly used her robe to cover the woman’s body, protecting and guarding her.

“…Getting married is like this,” Gui Ji lowered her eyes, her voice clear and cold, not knowing to whom she was speaking.

“It means always kissing (chéng rì qīn zuǐ, a pun on chéng qīn ‘getting married’ which sounds similar to chéng qīn ‘always kissing’), do you understand?”

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