After My Death, the Immortal Venerable Became a Demon for My Sake - Chapter 17

The warm touch of the embrace enveloped Song Wangxiao, and the faint, lingering fragrance of Jiang Cishuang grew richer in the night air. Jiang Cishuang held her tightly, her body trembling slightly as she buried her face in the crook of Song Wangxiao’s neck. When she spoke, her cool voice carried a rare, barely detectable trace of longing.

“Let me hold you… only then can I feel at ease.”

Her voice wavered with a gentle, lingering fear that fell softly upon Song Wangxiao’s ears.

Enveloped by the warmth of her chest and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, Song Wangxiao stood frozen in her arms. It wasn’t until Jiang Cishuang spoke again that she finally reacted.

Her heart felt swollen with a bittersweet ache, making it hard to breathe. Song Wangxiao bit her lip to suppress the emotions surging within her. She lifted her arms and held the other woman back just as tightly.

“I’m sorry… sorry for making you worry. I’m fine, truly. Please believe me; I wasn’t hurt at all. Not even a scratch.” She spoke rapidly, and fearing Jiang Cishuang wouldn’t believe her, she even began to circulate her cultivation to manifest a sharp, clear aura as proof of her well-being.

Jiang Cishuang loosened her embrace slightly, placing her hand gently over Song Wangxiao’s hand to stop the flow of energy.

“Alright. I believe you are safe.” Her eyes were exceptionally soft under the moonlight, as if soaked in the night’s tenderness. Her gaze was as steady as flowing water; the cold, detached aura she usually wore had vanished with the wind, leaving only her warmth behind.

A warmth reserved only for Song Wangxiao.

Song Wangxiao looked into her eyes, her pupils trembling. Her heart seemed to rise and fall with the other’s emotions, like a boat caught in the evening tide. Waves of feeling crashed over her, and she could hear her own heartbeat loud and clear.

Jiang Cishuang reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Song Wangxiao’s ear, her pale, soft fingertips gently rubbing the lobe until it turned red and hot. She reluctantly let go and looked down with a soft chuckle.

“It is getting late. Let us go rest.”

She stood up and took Song Wangxiao’s hand, leading her into the room. The servants had already removed the bathwater, but the humid mist hadn’t fully dissipated. As they opened the door, the moist air brushed against them with the breeze cool and comfortable.

Song Wangxiao’s face felt hot. She pressed the back of her hand against her cheek to try and clear her head, only then realizing her ear was still burning from the touch. She instinctively curled her fingers.

Jiang Cishuang had already led her to the bedside and began to calmly remove her outer robes right in front of her.

Song Wangxiao’s breath hitched. She instinctively looked away, wanting to retreat to the outer room to sleep, yet unwilling to be separated from Jiang Cishuang so soon. As she hesitated, she suddenly remembered that Jiang Cishuang had pulled her directly into this room and there was only one bed.

It was exactly like the scene at the inn, but this time, the palpitations in her heart were far more intense.

A possibility she had suppressed as “impossible” began to ripple through her mind like a stone cast into a lake, growing until it became a surging wave. Song Wangxiao’s thoughts slid uncontrollably toward this realization, and she couldn’t stop her heart from trembling.

She looked up. Under the flickering lamplight, the ice in Jiang Cishuang’s brow had melted away like spring snow. Clad only in her thin inner robes, the grace of her tall, straight silhouette was barely concealed.

She walked toward Song Wangxiao, who stood with her head down, too shy to look. Her slender, white fingers reached toward the girl’s collar.

The moment those fingertips touched her clothing, Song Wangxiao snapped out of her daze. Realizing how intimate the situation had become, she was at a loss. Her love for the woman made it impossible to pull away, yet her unspoken affection made her try to ignore the other’s presence.

She looked at the immortal before her looking at the way she touched her without hesitation, looking at those watery, gentle eyes. She finally asked the question that had been haunting the bottom of her heart for days.

“Yin Xiao… have you recovered your memories?”

Jiang Cishuang’s hand paused. Her fingertips trembled. She lowered her hand and her long lashes fluttered, masking the dark emotions in her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Then… are you going back?” Song Wangxiao took a step forward and caught Jiang Cishuang’s hand, her voice shaking.

She was terrified that Yin Xiao would return to her sect and they would lose all contact.

Yet, she was also afraid that Yin Xiao wouldn’t go. She was destined to die; if Yin Xiao stayed with her, how would the woman endure the time after she was gone?

Logic and emotion were like two blades, carving away at her heart until it bled.

Jiang Cishuang allowed her hand to be held. Song Wangxiao’s hands were cool, as if they too were soaked in the night air. Jiang Cishuang looked into her eyes that shimmered with the reflection of the candlelight and were filled with deep emotion.

For a moment, Jiang Cishuang didn’t dare meet her gaze. She looked down and spoke softly.

“Do you wish for me to leave?” Looking at their joined hands, the resolve Jiang Cishuang had held so firmly began to crack.

“I… I…” Song Wangxiao didn’t notice the other’s internal struggle. Her mind was occupied only by the question. She lowered her head and shook it.

Did she want her to leave?

“I don’t know. You have to go back to your sect eventually. Once the assembly is over, you’ll join the war… but I… I don’t know. I truly don’t know. I love you, and I don’t want you to face danger, but I am meant to…”

Song Wangxiao stopped mid-sentence.

The cool night wind blew through the open window, ruffling their hair and snapping Song Wangxiao out of her emotional spiral. Realizing what she had just blurted out, her body already trembling from emotion went stiff. She reflexively let go of the other’s hand and lowered her head further, not daring to look up.

“I didn’t mean that, I meant…” She didn’t know how to explain, her voice getting lower and lower until the room fell silent.

The silence stretched on. Just as Song Wangxiao felt her nascent love was about to collapse, the hand she had clenched against her robes was gently taken. Jiang Cishuang rescued the crumpled fabric from her grip and laced their fingers together.

“Since you love me… shall we become cultivation partners?”

The stagnant water of the lake suddenly surged with a massive wave. Song Wangxiao froze, then looked up in disbelief.

“What did you say?” She stared at the woman, wondering if she had hallucinated the words out of desperation. Her lips moved, but only a murmur came out.

A smile broke through Jiang Cishuang’s eyes. She took a step closer until they were inches apart, their breath mingling.

“Since you love me, and our feelings are mutual, it is only natural that we become Dao partners. From now on, we shall never be parted. I will not leave.” She squeezed Song Wangxiao’s hands, looking at her with infinite tenderness.

Joy and shock swept over Song Wangxiao like a tidal wave. From a state of vague ambiguity, they had jumped straight to being partners. She lunged forward and threw her arms around the woman.

Without the heavy outer robes, she could feel Jiang Cishuang’s warmth and the steady thumping of her heart.

“Why so suddenly?” She held her tightly, as if still unable to believe it.

“I thought… you didn’t like me,” Jiang Cishuang whispered, leaning against her shoulder and allowing herself to be held.

“I love you! I love you so much. I was the one who thought you didn’t like me.” Song Wangxiao buried her face in the woman’s neck, her eyes welling with tears as she breathed in her cool scent.

Jiang Cishuang hugged her back, pulling their bodies closer.

“I’m sorry. I thought my feelings were already clear to you.” Her voice was impossibly gentle. She pulled back slightly, her own eyes moist, looking a bit unaccustomed to such open declarations.

Song Wangxiao was dizzy with happiness, her thoughts racing.

“Then when will we…” She suddenly remembered her fate, and her excitement was dampened by a sudden pang of bitterness. She swallowed her sorrow.

“Things are too complicated right now, and becoming Dao partners requires much preparation. I suppose… it will have to be after the Great War,” Jiang Cishuang said, her tone returning to normal.

Song Wangxiao’s heart jolted. She bit her lip and kept her voice steady.

“Alright. After the war, then. As long as I can be with you, it doesn’t matter when.” She looked down, her joy now clouded by agonizing conflict.

After the war… will I even be alive? She remembered the voice from that day and could only hope it would keep its promise.

She perfectly hid her fleeting pain behind a mask of anticipation. Noticing how thinly clad Jiang Cishuang was, she realized they had been standing there for a long time and hurried her toward the bed.

“You should lie down. It’s cold at night; you mustn’t catch a chill.”

Jiang Cishuang wanted to say that cultivators need not fear the cold, but seeing the girl scurrying around to prepare hot water and ginger tea, she swallowed her words. She watched Song Wangxiao’s busy silhouette with a complex gaze.

The next morning, Tan Yiqing arrived as promised to take them to see the City Lord. Song Wangxiao and Jiang Cishuang were already waiting for her.

The two had discussed it the night before. Whether Tan Yiqing’s excuse for them staying was true or false, she hadn’t shown any hostility yet. Even if she had other motives, they could handle it. More importantly, staying in the manor was indeed the best way to hide from the Xiyi Sect.

When Tan Yiqing entered the courtyard, she found Song Wangxiao practicing sword forms under Jiang Cishuang’s instruction. Song Wangxiao finished a move, saw the guest at the gate, and lowered her sword.

“Young City Lord.” She gave a polite salute. Jiang Cishuang also turned her gaze toward her.

Tan Yiqing walked into the courtyard, her eyes bright with admiration as she looked at Song Wangxiao. “Miss A-Xiao’s swordsmanship is remarkable. I feel quite inferior just watching.”

Song Wangxiao raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jiang Cishuang, who was calmly sipping tea. “The Young City Lord overpraises me. I only know the basics.” She retracted her spiritual sword.

“Have you come to take us to the City Lord?” Song Wangxiao asked directly.

Tan Yiqing sat in the chair opposite Jiang Cishuang, failing to notice the slight pause in the other woman’s movements. She poured herself a cup of tea.

“I came to tell you exactly that. My mother already knows you entered my manor yesterday. Since she has urgent business today, we don’t need to see her yet.” She held the tea, blew on the steam, and took a sip. Immediately, her delicate face twisted into a slight frown.

Seeing this, Song Wangxiao asked, “What is it? Is the tea too bitter?”

Tan Yiqing set the cup down, gritting her teeth slightly. “Perhaps I just don’t drink tea often… so it feels a bit… strong.” She glanced at the teapot with confusion.

What is going on? It was steaming just now, yet it felt bone-chillingly cold in my mouth. She then looked at Jiang Cishuang, who was watching Song Wangxiao, and grew even more puzzled.

Do cultivators simply enjoy drinking their tea ice cold?

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