How Could I Resist His Madness and Charm [Transmigration] - Chapter 12

Qingyuan Village had only about twenty households scattered sparsely, making news travel slowly.

It wasn’t until Changsheng’s mother happened to see Qinglian dumping medicinal dregs on the road and asked casually that she learned Zhou Cuiniang had fallen ill.

After eavesdropping, Luo Yan scratched Zhu Yun’s palm: “Come with me to see Qingcao.”

“I won’t go if you bring Liu Changsheng.”

“I’m not bringing him.” Luo Yan wondered, “But how did Changsheng offend you?”

Zhu Yun fell silent as if struck dumb, vaulting over the wall to leave. After two steps, he obediently returned and, before Luo Yan could get angry, lifted her along.

She straightened her collar and negotiated: “I am a girl, after all. Next time, don’t carry me like an object.”

“…”

Night had deepened. The guard dog was dozing, emitting soft snores.

Inside the house, a lamp burned, casting the slender silhouette of someone sitting desolately before the bed onto the window. Her shoulders trembled incessantly, as if she were crying.

Luo Yan whispered, “Uncle Liu and Qingcao aren’t home?”

“Mm.” Zhu Yun could only hear three people breathing, two of them with shallow, labored breaths.

As she pondered how to call Qinglian out, the young girl herself emerged with a lantern, standing on tiptoe by the roadside to peer down the slope.

“Qinglian!”

Luo Yan hurried after her. “I heard your mother is sick?”

At the sight of Luo Yan, Qinglian cried even harder, shaking her head then nodding, stubbornly refusing to speak.

Luo Yan changed the subject: “Where’s your sister? Why isn’t she home so late?”

Qinglian continued to weep with pursed lips, melting Luo Yan’s heart. She quickly drew the girl into her arms, comforting her gently.

Zhu Yun urged: “She asked you a question.”

Startled by his stern tone, the young girl forgot her tears and timidly hid behind Luo Yan: “Father took sister to town.”

Thinking they had gone to buy medicine, Luo Yan relaxed, escorting the gradually calmed Qinglian back inside. But her eyes swept over the carpenter’s dilapidated roof and furniture, and doubt crept in.

Would a chronically alcoholic man kindly seek treatment for his wife?

Did he even have the means to hire a physician?

Zhu Yun knew what she was thinking and said matter-of-factly, “He probably took her to see the matchmaker.”

“The matchmaker?” Luo Yan’s voice trembled, her fingers quivering slightly. “Is he selling Qingcao?”

Even as she spoke, the answer dawned on her.

The carpenter had three daughters: the eldest was already married, the youngest wasn’t clever enough, leaving Qingcao as the most valuable. As for selling a daughter to treat his wife, it wasn’t out of deep affection, Zhou Cuiniang could farm and weave, making her more useful.

“A-Yun, do you think Qingcao has already been sold?”

Zhu Yun couldn’t answer, but seeing her red-rimmed eyes, he softened his voice: “I remember the matchmaker’s face. If you’re truly worried, I’ll go to town and check.”

Luo Yan hastily removed her newly acquired gold bracelet and reached for the jade hairpin in her bun, ready to thrust them all at him, when suddenly Liu the carpenter’s drunken curses echoed from the slope below.

He grabbed Luo Yan by the back of her collar, about to carry her away, then recalled her earlier request and switched to holding her by the waist.

No sooner had they hidden than Liu the carpenter stumbled into the yard, kicking over a winnowing basket: “Useless creature.”

Qingcao gestured to her peeking younger sister, signaling her to stay inside, then knelt and pleaded: “I know many characters. Let me go to my aunt’s, don’t sell me.”

In a flash of inspiration, she recalled the matchmaker’s casual complaint. “Father, if all else fails, you could sell me to the Jia family.”

Carpenter Liu tilted the jar, finding not a drop of wine left, and angrily threw it at her: “What people want are convict slaves from official families.”

Luo Yan’s tears pattered down, warm as they fell on Zhu Yun’s hand.

He remained indifferent to the commotion below but found it hard to ignore the sobbing girl beside him. He simply drew his dagger, twirling it deftly, and called out to her: “Yanyan.”

“Hmm?”

“Would killing him make you feel better?”

Luo Yan was stunned by the question, thinking she must have misheard, but Zhu Yun was clearly eager: “It’s newly bought, sharper than the last one. It won’t make a sound.”

She instantly stopped crying and said with utmost seriousness, “A-Yun, that’s not funny.”

He wasn’t joking.

Zhu Yun pursed his lips, still unwilling to give up: “If we kill Carpenter Liu, you can keep teaching Qingcao. Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Good my foot.” Luo Yan couldn’t cry anymore. She plucked a fruit and handed it to him. “Can you knock him out without crippling or…?”

Before she could finish, Carpenter Liu was already lying unconscious on the ground.

Qingcao was first surprised, then quickly broke into a relieved smile. She scrambled up from the ground and led her frightened sister inside to check on their mother.

Meanwhile, Zhu Yun clapped his hands, burying his face in annoyance, inwardly blaming Luo Yan for using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

He forgot that Luo Yan wasn’t a martial artist and that it was too dark for her to see anything.

She groped her way to the boy’s collarbone, then slid her hand down his arm, pressing a piece of jewelry into his palm, whispering, “I want to dig a shallow pit to bury the bracelet and let the sisters discover it.”

Zhu Yun’s ears flushed red from her touch: “Take your hand away.”

“Okay.”

He strode boldly into the yard, first kicking the black dog’s rear: “Don’t make a sound.”

Then he used his sword sheath to dig a shallow pit, buried the item, slipped into the kitchen to grab a steamed bun, crumbled it, and sprinkled it around before kicking the dog again: “Eat.”

Sure enough, Qinglian followed the noise and emerged, spotting the shiny object the little black dog had dug up. She hurried to call her sister.

Luo Yan was quite afraid they might hand the item over to Carpenter Liu. Clutching Zhu Yun’s arm tightly, she pleaded, “Let me watch a little longer, just a bit longer.”

Fortunately, Qingcao didn’t disappoint her. She carefully pocketed the bracelet and warned her sister, “If you still want a mother, you must never let Father know.”

With the weight off her mind, Luo Yan wiped her face and looked up, asking, “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”

Zhu Yun glanced down, noticing her eyelids tinged a pale pink, oddly reminiscent of the peach blossom pastries he’d bought that day. On impulse, he reached out and rubbed one.

Luo Yan: “?”

He licked his lips, avoiding her gaze: “Let’s go home.”

…

The hour of the Ox was nearly over when Zhu Yun was awakened by a sharp whistle.

He listened for a moment, it wasn’t close, likely the people from the Moon-Embrace Tower, having failed to find him, using this method to lure him out.

Having been “in seclusion” in Qingyuan Village for months, he was just looking for someone to practice on. Now that targets were offering themselves, there was no reason not to accept.

Zhu Yun got up and dressed, coiling his long whip around his waist and picking up his sword. Before leaving, he made his usual stop in the neighboring room.

The girl’s breathing was even, her arms wrapped around a crescent-shaped pillow, her cheek pressed against it, clearly fast asleep. Zhu Yun flicked a finger against her slightly pouted lips, lowered his voice, and said, “I’m going out for a while. I might be back soon, or maybe… later.”

After hesitating a few moments, he still pressed Luo Yan’s sleep acupoint, lest she wake up and not find him, throwing a tantrum.

He followed the initial whistle sound southward, only to hear another whistle coming from the north. He realized that Moon-Embracing Pavilion’s tactic was called “fishing in the ocean” a needle in a haystack.

Too lazy to turn back, he continued south.

His figure moved seamlessly through the darkness, and by the time Zhu Yun came to a steady halt on a tree branch, none of the thirteen people below had detected his presence.

The leader was Jia Liu, whose piercing whistle grated on his ears, making him frown slightly.

Yi Si, ever observant, waved for the others to blow their whistles farther away and asked with a grin, “Is the young master really still alive?”

“Of course,” Jia Liu replied impatiently, though he couldn’t resist adding, “The Divine Physician said the young master took quite a few valuable items from the medicine hall. He’s not so easy to kill.”

“But that was Lovers’ Warmth.”

“I already told you it’s the Divine Physician’s words. Why are you arguing with me?”

Yi Si immediately bowed in apology. Once Jia Liu had moved away to patrol elsewhere, he spat contemptuously in his direction.

From the tree, Zhu Yun observed their reactions.

He pieced together that the Divine Physician had publicly revealed that Mandarin Ducks’ Warmth could be refined and was certain he was still alive.

Moreover, after Zhu Yun had killed several senior members, the Jia-ranked disciples had fallen from their pedestal. While they still showed surface-level respect, their loyalty was far from genuine.

For instance, disciples like Yi Si often whispered privately:

“If a thirteen-year-old brat can take all of them down, is he really that strong, or are some people just too weak?”

But what intrigued Zhu Yun the most was the Divine Physician.

He crushed a specially formulated pill from the tower and scattered it as he walked. After ensuring he was far enough from Henghe Town, he settled cross-legged on a large rock.

About half an hour later, rustling sounds emerged from the forest.

Jia Liu spotted the young man’s composed demeanor from a distance and understood he had deliberately lured them here. A chill ran down his spine, but he had no choice but to obey the tower master’s orders. He took two cautious steps forward and called out, “Xiao Qi-”

Before he could finish, a bamboo leaf shot straight toward his face.

Jia Liu, prepared, yanked a disciple beside him in front as a shield. The leaf sliced a long, bloody gash across the disciple’s throat, killing him instantly.

The others emerged from hiding, attempting to negotiate: “The Pavilion master did not issue a kill order.”

“It’s useless to reason with him,” Jia Liu said, subtly retreating as he sighed. “For the sake of our decade-long acquaintance, show some mercy.”

Zhu Yun curled his lips. “One by one, or all at once?”

Jia Liu closed his eyes in despair, listening to the clashing of blades. Moments later, silence returned. He still dared not move, only to feel a soft, icy whip wrap around his neck.

As the pressure tightened, Jia Liu’s face turned blue. He was about to curse Zhu Yun with his dying breath when the pressure suddenly eased.

Had the Guanyin Bodhisattva he’d prayed to today actually been of some use?

“Cough, cough, cough…” Jia Liu collapsed weakly to the ground. From this angle, the young man’s expression was unusually grave. Was he contemplating some cruel method to make him suffer without dying?

Alarm bells rang in Jia Liu’s mind. He strained to keep his eyes open, only to find Zhu Yun, wiping his shoes.

“?”

Zhu Yun felt a flicker of regret. He should have worn an old pair of shoes before heading out.

Realizing this was a chance to survive, Jia Liu spoke up, “Wood ash washed several times can remove bloodstains. Well, I happen to have some with me.”

Knowing Jia Liu’s obsession with cleanliness, Zhu Yun didn’t doubt him. He held out his hand, took the porcelain bottle, and sprinkled the contents over the stained embroidery.

“Xiao Qi,” Jia Liu said softly, “The tower master sent me to deliver a message.”

“Speak.”

“Come back when you’re done playing.”

Zhu Yun straightened up and smiled indifferently, “Also, pass a message for me, tell the divine physician to come see me within ten days.”

After saying this, he tossed down the porcelain vial and left.

Upon returning to his room, Zhu Yun detected an extremely faint sound of breathing. The killing intent still lingering on him, he instinctively drew his sword. When his eyes met Luo Yan’s bewildered expression, he swiftly withdrew his hand, but still left a half-finger-long cut on her delicate neck.

Zhu Yun’s pupils contracted sharply, “You… how are you awake?”