After Being Forced into Marriage with My Paranoid Dead Husband - Chapter 3

Qing Ling met the people of the Qing clan right within the mountains.

The rain had fallen fiercely and stopped just as abruptly. Qing Ling guessed that the departure of that malevolent entity was related to the sudden downpour, and when the rain stopped, he remained on tenderhooks for a long time, terrified that the thing would pursue him again. However, seeing that the thick fog never returned to seal off the mountain, he mustered every ounce of strength and ran toward the outside. He could not tell how many hours he had run; he only knew that after the sky had been bright for quite a while, he happened to cross paths with a group of people who had entered the mountain to search for him.

Leading the group was an elderly steward with graying hair. Unlike the lean and withered Steward Yu Bo and A-Yuan, this steward, despite his advanced age, looked exceedingly plump and prosperous. Qing Ling had rarely seen outsiders, yet he could still tell that this man who called himself Steward Liu lived a lavish life, and even the five accompanying footmen were tall and robust.

“Young Master.” Steward Liu wore a rather disheveled expression yet smiled genially. “The time is ripe; the Master has instructed us to welcome the Young Master back to the estate. The carriage is waiting at the foot of the mountain let us go.”

Qing Ling did not speak; he merely nodded.

He only felt that this steward resembled the dilapidated Buddha statue in the ruined temple deep in the mountains smiling benignly, yet making one feel entirely unable to grow close.

Dragon-Slaying Mountain was remote, and Qing Ling had lived deep amidst the cluster of mountains all his life. Stepping outside the mountain gates, it was already late at night. Qing Ling remained in a wretched state, his raw, blistered feet burning with piercing pain with every single step, yet he did not utter a single sound, enduring it as he forced himself through a full day of trekking across the mountain path.

Everything outside the mountain was entirely unfamiliar to him. In all his eighteen years of life, Qing Ling had not even left the small courtyard a few times, let alone ever seen a carriage pulled by horses. The fur cushions inside the carriage were far softer than anything he usually used. Qing Ling possessed a quiet and reserved nature and spoke little, but he was not a fool.

Having been abandoned and ignored in the mountains for so many years, why did the people of the Qing clan choose this exact moment to come pick him up? Even if he did not understand what was truly going on behind the scenes, Qing Ling knew it was by no means simple.

Along the way, Steward Liu had chattered endlessly about how worried the Master and the eldest young master had been about Qing Ling over the years, and how they simply could not enter the mountain to visit him due to certain circumstances, but finally looked forward to the young master returning to the estate to enjoy family harmony and the like right up until Qing Ling calmly asked from inside the carriage: “Then what about my mother?”

Steward Liu outside the carriage fell silent for a few breaths, sounding as though his throat had been pinched shut.

“This… Young Master, your birth mother was not the Master’s legal wife, yet the Master truly cherished her. When the Young Master was born, she passed away due to a difficult labor, and the Master grieved for a very long time,” Steward Liu said with a solemn, dramatic air. “Once we arrive at the estate, you must not bring this up, lest you cause the Master grief.”

A moment later, a quiet sound drifted from inside the carriage: “Oh.”

Even after exiting the mountain, the road back to the city was not particularly smooth. Qing Ling even overheard the footmen outside the carriage muttering and complaining to one another, only to be sharply reprimanded by Steward Liu.

A cold, inner sneer crossed Qing Ling’s mind. It seemed that even the servants looked down upon this young master who had been cast away in the deep, desolate mountains.

Having walked the mountain paths for nearly a day and a night, soaked by rain and terrified by ghosts, Qing Ling was already utterly exhausted, and before long he drifted into a hazy slumber inside the swaying carriage.

How long he remained in that murky, half-conscious state, he did not know. Half-asleep, Qing Ling vaguely heard strange noises faint and indistinct, hard to make out and the carriage had somehow stopped swaying at some point.

“Hah… hah-ah…”

What sound is that?

Within Qing Ling’s muddled, murky consciousness, a trace of unease had already stirred.

Yet whether due to sheer exhaustion, he could not manage to open his eyes, nor could he so much as twitch a single finger. Confusion bred growing anxiety in his heart, and a hazy illusion crept over him it felt as though something was tightening around his neck.

So suffocating…

The binding around his neck grew tighter and tighter. Qing Ling’s mind remained clouded, barely grasping what was happening, relying purely on an instinctive urge to break free.

Suddenly!

A bone-chilling, piercing cold invaded the interior of the carriage. Intermingled with that bitter frost was a familiar sensation. Jolted completely awake by the cold, Qing Ling gasped heavily for air, the panic of a narrow escape still lingering in his eyes. Before he could fully regain his senses or let out a breath of relief, he froze rigidly once more.

Qing Ling did not dare to move a single muscle.

Because he could clearly feel that he was being held tightly in the embrace of a freezing-cold body, with his cheek pressed straight against a chest that lacked any rising and falling heartbeat. Every breath carried a chilling, cool draft, mingled with a certain indescribable, hauntingly serene fragrance that seemed to drift across ages past.

It’s him.

He followed him here.

Having been entangled with him for days, Qing Ling was deeply familiar with his scent, and simultaneously, he became starkly aware of his current predicament.

Qing Ling felt a sharp pain at his neck, belatedly realizing that he had just nearly… died. Lowering his gaze, he caught sight of the inky-black hem of a robe embroidered with auspicious golden clouds, along with a pale yet long-fingered hand. That hand looked no different from a living person’s, even bearing a layer of calluses around the thumb’s web, except for a faint wisp of black qi lingering around the palm, which was tightly gripping a strip of snow-white silk.

The interior of the carriage fell into absolute silence, broken only by Qing Ling’s own rapid, terrified panting.

Half a day passed.

With his head lowered, Qing Ling remained somewhat shaken and far too frightened to make any rash movements.

Yet nothing happened.

Qing Ling grew suspicious. Every time this monster had appeared previously, it had dragged him toward the couch; today, it was actually behaving honestly without making any moves.

Unusual events always harbor demons.

It was not until Qing Ling caught sight of the white silk in that pale palm gradually turning translucent—the chillingly dark black qi was actually being… devoured by the evil entity gripping the silk.

The breath Qing Ling had just managed to steady fell into disarray once more.

Although he had no idea what was going on, it was abundantly clear that this evil entity was not acting against him simply because it was currently preoccupied.

That white silk began writhing like a living creature, desperately trying to escape, while Qing Ling heard a woman’s voice numb, yet bizarrely laced with overwhelming terror pleading: “Spare… spare my life…”

Qing Ling widened his eyes slightly in utter disbelief.

This thing is begging for mercy?

The woman repeated nothing but pleas for mercy, her voice growing fainter and fainter as the white silk grew increasingly ethereal.

Qing Ling touched his own neck, feeling a stinging sensation where the skin had been scraped raw. The white silk should have been what nearly took his life just moments before; he never expected that this evil entity, which committed every imaginable atrocity, would save his life. Yet looking at that nearly vanishing strip of white silk, Qing Ling’s heart remained suspended in his throat.

This evil entity was by no means benevolent. Once it finished dealing with the white silk, he was likely next in line.

At this point, Qing Ling almost wished that the white silk could hold out just a little longer.

Yet, despite his silent wishes, the white silk completely dissolved into nothingness. The narrow carriage instantly turned even more perilous. Qing Ling did not call out for help, knowing it would be futile. The pale hand that had just been gripping the white silk now lifted.

Instinctively wanting to struggle, Qing Ling felt the arm locked around his waist tighten abruptly, while another icy hand pinched his chin, forcing him to lift his head. Once again, he was made to look upon the evil entity’s countenance.

—Truly a striking, handsome face.

Only, the gaze remained filled with fierce, gloomy hostility, intertwined with venomous, bone-chilling cruelty and undisguised, mocking malice.

Qing Ling involuntarily began to tremble. No matter how attractive the face was, this creature was not human, nor did it approach with goodwill resembling a gorgeous, peerless executioner’s blade that inspired nothing but sheer terror.

“Want to run?”

The entity spoke.

It was still a low, slow tone, but whether it was his imagination or not, Qing Ling felt that compared to the previous days, this entity… seemed to have undergone a slight change, with a hint of playful amusement threading through its tone rather than pure, unadulterated malice.

Knowing he could not defeat this creature, Qing Ling closed his eyes in a fit of reckless abandon, pulling a bitter smile onto his chapped lips and firing back sarcastically: “Otherwise?”

His voice was hoarse to the extreme, his head pounding with pain, and his raw, chafed feet hurt terribly, stirring a surge of fury and indignation in his chest.

Why did he have to endure all of this?

Imprisoned in a tiny courtyard for eighteen years, inexplicably entangled and humiliated by this evil entity, coupled with the hidden schemes of his main family demanding his return at this exact moment he knew nothing of any of it, yet ever since birth, it felt as though he had been bound by invisible spider threads, circle after circle, tightening continuously until he was choked to death alive.

No.

I refuse to resign myself to this.

Disregarding the entity’s absurdly overwhelming strength, Qing Ling abruptly snapped his eyes open and began struggling frantically. He had never possessed a submissive gentleness that allowed him to be bullied without resistance when facing this entity.

Yet he still failed to shake the creature by even a fraction.

“Where do you want to go?” the entity asked.

The creature was certainly talking a lot today.

Pressing both hands against that icy, pulse-less chest, Qing Ling rasped out, “Home.”

The evil entity smiled, a malicious and chillingly cruel grin blooming across its handsome yet pale face.

Yet Qing Ling’s vision suddenly blurred, and his consciousness began to cloud over. No matter how he fought against the sudden wave of dizziness, he slowly lost consciousness.

The last thing he heard was the entity’s exceptionally faint chuckle.

He said: “Alright.”

Every word spoken sounded like some venomous, fatal curse.