The Beautiful Pariah Thought He Could Be Loved - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Trap of Deception

In a very, very dilapidated house…

Bang! The door was kicked open. Fei Jia burst in and dropped to one knee, knocking his head against the floorboards repeatedly and rapidly. Xin Qishu watched as blood began to seep from the guard’s forehead.

“Young Palace Master, Fei Jia has come to seek punishment!”

Fei Jia’s head was lowered, his voice sounding like it was being dragged through gravel. Salty beads of sweat mixed with blood slid from his brow into his eyes; he blinked nervously.

Leaking information to Xu Qiyao had been a momentary lapse in judgment—a “ghostly obsession.” He had assumed Xin Qishu liked Xu Qiyao to some degree. With He Lüqing crossed off the list, he thought Xu Qiyao was the only viable candidate left.

“You knew about everything that happened these past two days?” Xin Qishu’s voice drifted from ahead. He didn’t sound angry, yet Fei Jia’s heart trembled regardless.

“Yes,” Fei Jia replied in a low voice.

A suffocating silence filled the room.

Fei Jia shouted, “Please, Young Palace Master, grant me my punishment!”

He didn’t offer a single word of self-defense, which only made Xin Qishu feel worse. He felt compelled to ask: “Why did you do it?”

Fei Jia’s gaze was firm as he suppressed his voice. “It was for your own good.”

“You don’t know this, but He Lüqing took a drop of your blood while you were sleeping! Who knows what harm he plans to do to you with it…”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I… I went to the Palace Master first.”

No one had mentioned this to Xin Qishu until today. He held little hope, but he curled his lips in a perfunctory smirk. “And what did he say?”

Fei Jia fell silent once more. Xin Sha had said this was Xin Qishu’s own business; he felt he had fulfilled his duty by helping Xin Qishu marry He Lüqing, and any other troubles were for the boy to solve himself.

“…Xu Qiyao is at least better than He Lüqing,” Fei Jia said, unable to bring himself to relay those harsh words, clumsily changing the subject.

“I think you are better than him. What do you think?” Xin Qishu’s voice was soft.

Fei Jia lost his voice. He looked up sharply, his pupils dilating. “Is… is that true?”

Outside, thunder rumbled, and rain pattered against the window paper. Xin Qishu gave him a cold glance, his blood-red eyes filled with a mix of murderous intent and disappointment. “Do not leak secrets under the guise of wanting ‘what’s best for me’ or ‘my happiness’.”

“…I’ll let it slide this time. Next time, go report for punishment yourself,” Xin Qishu said wearily. “You’ve passed the secret realm; there will certainly be a place for you in the future of the Blood Capacity Palace. Do not do stupid things that damage your own interests.”

Fei Jia’s heart sank to the bottom. “Yes.”

Xin Qishu motioned for him to leave, but Fei Jia didn’t move. He couldn’t help asking, “What did He Lüqing say to you?”

“Nothing at all.”

Fei Jia bowed his back, not daring to look at him. “Don’t let him deceive you. That drop of blood…” He was terrified Xin Qishu didn’t understand the importance of blood essence.

Xin Qishu didn’t respond. Fei Jia tentatively looked up.

Xin Qishu was looking at him with exhaustion, his black hair draped softly over his shoulders, his crimson eyes devoid of life. The sight stung Fei Jia’s eyes, and the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat.

Xin Qishu didn’t ask why he hadn’t stopped it back then. He relaxed his body, leaning back into the chair, his slender, lotus-root-like arm resting on the armrest. Fei Jia noticed a silver bracelet loosely encircling the boy’s fair, delicate wrist.

The bracelet reflected Fei Jia’s distorted face.

Xin Qishu’s voice trailed off as if he were deep in thought. “Blood is indeed important… I just remembered that a drop was also left at the Fayu Pavilion. Go and retrieve it for me.”

“Yes,” Fei Jia bowed in obedience.

“As long as you can bring back one drop, that will suffice.” Let me see your sincerity.

The room saw its second guest depart that night. Xin Qishu stood up, his shadow stretching long across the floor.

The lamp went out.

…

Five days later, Fei Jia pushed open the door in a hurry. “Young Palace Master, our men have searched for five days. We are certain He Lüqing has left the Demon Abyss. Give me a bit more time…”

The room was empty. Everything was exactly as it had been when he left, but a narrow slip of paper was pinned under a teacup.

Fei Jia walked over and froze, feeling as if he’d been hit by a sledgehammer.

If you can’t bring it back, don’t come looking for me again. — Xin Qishu.

…

As the Hundred Flowers Festival approached, the banks of the Yunzi River were a riot of color and a sea of people.

“Damn it, why are there so many people?” A cultivator in blue robes grumbled as he squeezed forward, suddenly feeling his elbow hit someone. He looked down and saw a youth of extraordinary beauty. The boy seemed oblivious to the bump, staring ahead, his tea-colored almond eyes darting around with anxiety.

His skin is so white… he looks so obedient… I really want to talk to him… The cultivator was dazed for a moment. Before he could apologize, the melancholy youth was pushed away by the surging crowd. The cultivator couldn’t find him again and slapped his thigh in regret.

Xin Qishu squeezed through the Yunzi River crowds three times but never ran into Yang Li. He was drenched in sweat, standing at the street corner with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

On the way here, he had finally opened the letter Yang Li wrote to him. Upon opening it, he realized he had carelessly given the wrong letter back then. He was holding the one meant for He Lüqing.

He sent a message to He Lüqing, but as usual, received no reply.

Xin Qishu now doubted if Yang Li had even invited him at all. It was June 7th; he had been here for two days and hadn’t seen Yang Li once.

He decided to stay for a full week. If he still didn’t see Yang Li, he would go to Star Bay. Star Bay was a remote island far from the mainland, small in size with only a tiny sect residing on it.

After bathing, Xin Qishu stood by the window. The setting sun cast shimmering reflections on the rushing waters of the Yunzi River. The sweltering wind brushed his face, and the cries of vendors and chatter of tourists filled his ears.

He rubbed his forehead and closed the window. Ever since that day riding in the wind, his body had felt off. It wasn’t a specific pain—just a general sense of malaise.

Amidst the noise, Xin Qishu fell asleep early.

In his haze, he seemed to hear two people arguing. He frowned and rolled over, and the arguing strangely vanished.

While still half-conscious, he felt a familiar grip around his neck and a cold wind hitting his face. Struggling against his sleepiness, he opened his eyes to see a grey figure pulling him across rooftops at high speed. The scenery blurred behind them.

Xin Qishu tried to gather his thoughts, but failed.

Where is my bed?!

“He Lüqing! Apprehend the criminal Xin Qishu immediately!” An old voice thundered in his ear like a lightning strike.

Many cultivators visiting the river were jolted awake. Windows flew open as heads poked out to see what was happening.

Xin Qishu was now fully awake. Why arrest me? I’ve never hurt anyone. He stared intently at the figure in front of him. Was this a scam from the very beginning?

He wanted to question He Lüqing, to explain himself, but every time he opened his mouth, he was met with a gust of wind. He struggled with all his might to no avail. The hand gripping his neck had long, elegant fingers, but to Xin Qishu, they looked like the hooks of the Grim Reaper.

The strong wind left his hair in a mess. Terrified, he closed his eyes.

After an unknown amount of time, He Lüqing slowed down and loosened his grip. His voice came from ahead, sounding distorted in the wind: “Are you okay?”

Xin Qishu bit his lip and timidly opened his eyes.

He Lüqing looked unusually approachable and gentle now, overlapping with an image from many years ago. The sky was beginning to turn pale, and a faint white crescent moon was visible. They were in a desolate village.

Xin Qishu’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it would jump out of his chest.

Lüqing pushed him into an abandoned, one-story house with a partially collapsed wall. Only one wooden door remained, unable to block the whistling northern wind. Xin Qishu curled up on the raised platform (kang), pulling a few pieces of tattered cloth over himself.

Lüqing held his sword, his back to the boy as he listened intently for movement outside. His hem and back were smeared with dust from the walls, and his handsome face showed signs of fatigue.

Moments later, He Lüqing relaxed slightly and sat cross-legged on the ground. Xin Qishu whispered, “Aren’t you going to arrest me?”

Pure moonlight shone through the cracks in the wall. Lüqing wiped his brow, leaving a smudge of black soot on his fair forehead. He said slowly, “The Cheng family’s Glazed Lamp has gone missing.”

“Did you think I stole it?”

“No!” Xin Qishu retorted immediately, terrified the blame would be pinned on him. The Cheng family was a local power at the Yunzi River, and that lamp was a family heirloom.

Xin Qishu had seen it once at a celebration when the current family head took over. Though it had no practical function, its craftsmanship was exquisite—a masterpiece meant to be passed down through generations.

“What did you come to the Yunzi River for?”

Xin Qishu leaned toward He Lüqing. “You know why. I came to meet Yang Li.”

“I didn’t see him. Did he really invite me?” He tilted his face slightly, his beautiful eyes narrowing with suspicion. One cheek puffed out a bit, and his light-red lips were pursed.

The mud wall behind him was moldy, and the rags he wore were an eyesore. Such a refined, beautiful youth should be sitting high on a throne, far removed from the bitterness and poverty of the world. But alas, fate plays its tricks.

…

Flashback: The Cheng Family Living Room

Yang Li was pacing back and forth with a conflicted expression. In the dead silence, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. He turned, snatched the teacup from He Lüqing’s hand, and smashed it onto the floor!

The white porcelain shattered. He shouted, “You can’t do this! He clearly hasn’t done anything wrong!”

The light was dim. Dust motes floated in the air. Yang Li’s indignant face was a blur, while the expressions of the five elders of the Fayu Pavilion remained unreadable.

Lüqing remained calm. “Why can’t we? Why are you being so indecisive?”

“If he hasn’t done anything wrong, did those who died in vain do anything wrong?”

“Master!” Yang Li cried out in despair.

“Enough.” Lüqing stood up, his ponytail swaying. Dressed in elegant, ethereal white robes, he gazed steadily ahead.

Perhaps I was naive. Xin Qishu marrying Xu Qiyao might not have been a bad decision. Don’t listen to me, you must not come… let all our ties end on that night…

The raised patterns on the scabbard of the Frost Chill Sword pressed into his palm. He said, “I’ll go. Xin Qishu trusts me more.”

“Lüqing… but your reputation…” an elder hesitated.

“For the safety of the world’s people, this disciple has no regrets.” He Lüqing lowered his gaze, his pale green eyes showing neither joy nor sorrow. The Frost Chill Sword at his side gleamed with a strange, eerie light.

Yang Li chased him out and grabbed him. “You’re doing this for nothing. Master, do you really think you can find an opportunity to destroy the Blood Demon Ring through Xin Qishu?”

“Xin Sha dotes on him. Nothing is impossible,” He Lüqing walked briskly.

“Dotes? Does ‘doting’ mean ignoring him for hundreds of years?”

“There have always been people protecting him.”

“If there were really people protecting him, how did Xin Qishu end up on the brink of death just for accidentally bumping into Chen Xuan?”

“If someone really cared for him, if he really had a malicious heart… Xin Qishu snuck into the Fayu Pavilion for so long, yet why did no one ever come looking for him? Why didn’t a single person in the Pavilion die?” Yang Li broke into sobs.

Lüqing stopped and turned around. Yang Li’s tears didn’t seem fake. He asked in disbelief, “Xin Qishu stayed at the Fayu Pavilion? When?”

“The 380th year of Tianting.”

That year, Xin Qishu was 180 years old—innocent and romantic. He Lüqing was 500, deep in secluded cultivation.

Lüqing hadn’t expected this revelation. He dragged Yang Li back. “Who was in charge of recruiting new disciples that year?”

Yang Li struggled; he didn’t want to give more points of suspicion against Xin Qishu. His heart was already broken knowing his letter had been used for another purpose. “It was Elder Han… he said Xin Qishu had ‘Immortal Affinity’.”

…

Back to the Present

“I really didn’t steal it. Do you believe me?” Xin Qishu had crouched down next to He Lüqing at some point, wrapping the rags around himself like a makeshift coat, his face covered in dust.

The two were very close. Lüqing looked at his unusual eye color.

Immortal Affinity? Lüqing found it absurd. How could a member of the demon race have Immortal Affinity?

His crystalline red eyes blinked. Xin Qishu’s fair face gradually drew closer.

Lüqing instinctively pulled back and turned his head. “What did you do to get yourself in such a state?”

Xin Qishu leaned his head on He Lüqing’s shoulder. “I didn’t do anything. Do you believe me or not?”

He had asked He Lüqing this question many times. Today, he asked again.

Xin Qishu held the answers to many questions in his heart, but every time he had the chance, he would still ask. He wanted a different answer. He guessed he might get it today.

In that very, very dilapidated house, He Lüqing’s voice flowed like the gentle waters of a river.

“I believe you.”