After Transmigrating into a Book as Cannon Fodder, I Pampered the Villain - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Harmful to the Body

Yan Huaixi had no interest in matters of romance, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand what those words meant when put together. Looking at the title made her eyes ache; she wondered who was bold enough to write the Daoist Master into such a storybook.

She and that woman were old rivals; even now, they had never truly settled who was superior. The thought of that woman’s eternal “coffin face” being written into a book like this made Yan Huaixi’s eyes ache even more.

She flipped a page, only to be stunned by the opening scene: the Daoist Master’s junior sister pinning her down in a hot spring to confess her feelings!

The Daoist Master’s… junior sister?

Yan Huaixi re-read it. She wasn’t mistaken; it was indeed the junior sister.

She fell silent for a moment, then critiqued internally: Quite creative. Paradoxically reasonable.

Perhaps influenced by the book, she suddenly recalled certain details she had previously overlooked. The Daoist Master’s temperament was like the ice of the Heavenly Mountains—so cold that no one dared approach—yet she tolerated her junior sister’s constant mischief. Was the relationship between those two sisters… truly pure?

Yan Huaixi felt as if she had glimpsed a secret. No, there was no tangible evidence, only speculation. Never mind, don’t let this book lead my thoughts astray.

She continued flipping through. The plot that followed was even more “spectacular.”

Yan Huaixi chuckled. The person who wrote this was incredibly brave. If the contents of this book ever reached the Daoist Master’s ears, she would likely descend from the mountains personally to hunt the author down.

But… did Yu Yingxia leave this book by her pillow by accident, or was she trying to convey something else?

A certain someone’s chronic suspicion flared up. Seeing this storybook immediately linked back to the events of last night. Yan Huaixi raised a hand to touch her lips; that soft sensation had felt too real.

Yu Yingxia, who had hurried back, entered the room to find Yan Huaixi holding the book in one hand, while the fingertips of her other hand brushed against her own pale lips.

A flash of panic surged deep in Yingxia’s eyes; her ears began to burn. She instinctively looked away, forcing herself not to look at Yan Huaixi’s mouth.

Last night was an emergency! It was to save a life! Yes, just saving a life.

That was a minor issue compared to the current “social death” scenario: Yang Xunzhou’s book had fallen into Yan Huaixi’s hands! Yingxia had rushed back precisely because she remembered leaving it by the pillow in her haste. She was one step too late!

Yu Yingxia felt bone-weary. Yan Huaixi was technically her boss now. To leave a “dirty book” on your boss’s bed and have them find it… was there anywhere left on earth for her to hide?

“My Lord…”

“Guardian Yu has quite the colorful hobbies.” Yan Huaixi shook the book slightly, a hint of playfulness in her eyes. “You said you were gathering intelligence at the bookstore. Is this how you gather it?”

Yingxia’s face burned, but she didn’t know how to explain that she had boarded Yang Xunzhou’s “thief ship” and her actual job was illustrating these very books.

“Cough… My Lord, this is intelligence. Yang Xunzhou says these stories all have some basis in fact.” Yingxia thick-skinnedly borrowed Yang’s previous excuse to salvage some dignity, though she knew it likely wouldn’t work on Yan Huaixi.

“Oh? Yang Xunzhou said that?” Hearing that it was Yang’s claim—and suspecting she might even be the author—Yan Huaixi knew the seemingly absurd book likely contained kernels of truth. That “Literary Saint” had strange abilities; she entered the Path through writing and seemed to glimpse fragments of destiny. There were traces of fate in everything she wrote.

Yan Huaixi let out a sudden laugh. If she weren’t in this pathetic state, she would definitely knock on Yang Xunzhou’s door to discuss how much of this book was fact and how much was fiction. Next time she met the Daoist Master, even if they were a match in combat, she could best her verbally.

However, the laugh pulled at her wound. The scent of blood filled her mouth, but she soon felt warm fingertips wiping her lip—just like last night.

She looked at Yu Yingxia, who was gently wiping the blood away. The light in Yan Huaixi’s eyes dimmed for a split second.

“Yu Yingxia.”

Being called by her full name made Yingxia tense. Seeing the red blood on her fingertip, she grew nervous, remembering the Living Yama didn’t like being touched.

“Last night, did you…” Yan Huaixi couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She stared into Yingxia’s innocent, bewildered eyes for a long time but saw no trace of guilt or other hidden emotions. Did I really confuse a dream with reality?

“Never mind. Last night, you seemed to feed me a pill. Where did it come from?”

“That was a life-saving pill given to me by Yang Xunzhou. Because I was scratched by a Poison Corpse, she worried about the toxin and gave it to me. Fortunately, it served a greater purpose.” Mentioning the scratch, Yingxia finally felt the stinging pain in her arm. Fang Yuetong had said such wounds were hard to heal and would hurt for a while.

“Scratched? Has the wound been treated?” Yan Huaixi asked, looking toward the injury she had already noticed.

“It’s been treated. Fang Yuetong neutralized the poison for me.”

“That’s good. Now we owe Yang Xunzhou a favor,” Yan Huaixi murmured, though she remained wary. She wasn’t sure if Yang’s abilities could uncover her identity or if she would report them to other factions.

As she pondered, Yan Huaixi noticed a fair, jade-like hand “sneaking” onto her bed, inching toward the book she had set down.

Yingxia finally touched a corner of the book. Just as she tried to pull it back, she realized it wouldn’t budge. She looked up; Yan Huaixi was holding the other side. Despite being a “heavily injured patient,” the woman’s strength was enough to strangle her!

Yu Yingxia said with righteous conviction: “My Lord, if you want to read storybooks, I will buy you others. You shouldn’t read this kind while injured. It’s… harmful to the body.”

Understanding the implication, Yan Huaixi’s face went through a cycle of red, white, and black, like a spilled palette of paints. In her moment of distraction, Yingxia snatched the book away.

No one had ever taken something from her hands against her will. The atmosphere around Yan Huaixi suddenly turned cold.

Yingxia had learned to gauge the villain’s mood by the ambient temperature. Right now, she was definitely displeased—even angry.

She quickly coaxed: “The book isn’t going anywhere. I’ll give it back once you’re a bit better. I’ve prepared the sweet soup and pastries you like. Why don’t we have something to eat first?”

The dangerous aura, like a large cat ready to hunt, gradually retracted. The “fierce cat” pulled back its claws and returned to a state of lethargy.

“I was only looking for the Daoist Master’s weaknesses. I don’t have the filthy thoughts you’re imagining.” Yan Huaixi rapped her knuckles against Yingxia’s forehead.

Though injured, she didn’t hit lightly. A red mark appeared on Yingxia’s pale forehead, and physiological tears welled up in her eyes.

I only tapped her, and she’s crying? Yan Huaixi’s hand froze mid-air. Retracting it felt cold, but rubbing the forehead felt even weirder. She chose to ignore the girl’s eyes and tucked her hand back under the covers.

Where did this spoiled brat come from?

Certainly not the Changsheng Sect. Everyone from there had experienced the pain of bones being scraped and flesh being carved; no one would get teary-eyed over a tap on the head.

Yan Huaixi clutched the blanket, ignoring Yingxia’s pitiful gaze. She had to admit, if she kept looking at those eyes, she might eventually go soft-hearted.

Yingxia rubbed her forehead, equally embarrassed. “The… medicine is brewing. I can’t leave it for too long. Please rest, My Lord; I won’t disturb you further.”

She found an excuse to flee the awkwardness, but after only a few steps, a wave of dizziness hit her. She grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling.

Yan Huaixi’s hand, which had reached out instinctively, slowly retracted once Yingxia steadied herself. Truly stupid. She can trip just by walking. Who on earth sent her to me?

Yan Huaixi lay on her side, watching Yingxia’s departing figure. The scent of peach blossoms faded with her. Lying alone in the room, she felt an inexplicable sense of emptiness.

She had grown accustomed to the scent of peach blossoms lulling her to sleep. Without it, her nights might be difficult. So, regardless of who sent her, I should thank them. But now that she’s here, her life and death belong to me.

But given the current uncertainties, she couldn’t just lie here doing nothing. Yan Huaixi cut her palm; her blood rose into the air, transforming into blood butterflies that silently flew away from the courtyard.

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