The Cross-Dressing Legend Is Excessively Beautiful - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Song Xizhi laughed. His voice was low, like a ghost in the night—chilling, yet carrying an unknown, inexplicable allure. It was thick with killing intent.

If she dies right at the start of this round, what will happen?

A flash of white light pierced the gloom.

A sleeve blade flew out.

Qiu Tong dodged by sheer reflex.

A strand of black hair suddenly drifted to the floor.

Qiu Tong’s pupils dilated for an instant, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief. Luckily, she had followed her bodily instincts and dodged in time. If she had been even a blink late, it wouldn’t have been just her hair falling to the ground.

But why would a young lady confined to her chambers hide a knife on her person at all times?

And how was her martial arts skill so high?

“Young Lady, what is the meaning of this?” Qiu Tong asked as she stabilized her footing, her face filled with confusion.

“Don’t be nervous. I just wanted to test if my new blade was sharp enough.”

Seeing that she had dodged, Song Xizhi did not pursue her further. There was plenty of time ahead.

He unhurriedly tucked away the sleeve blade. “Your skills aren’t bad,” Song Xizhi remarked, looking at Qiu Tong with genuine appreciation.

“This servant is of lowly status and lives an uncertain life. I was fortunate enough to receive some guidance and learned a move or two for self-defense. However, it certainly cannot be called ‘skills’.” Qiu Tong smiled shyly, her expression carrying a hint of bitterness.

If those martial arts were merely for self-defense, they were far too grand for such a small purpose. Even she didn’t believe her own words. Fortunately, Song Xizhi showed no intention of pressing the matter. Qiu Tong let out a sigh of relief.

“Cough, cough.” Song Xizhi covered his mouth with a handkerchief. A spot of vivid crimson bloomed across the fabric, a shocking sight.

Every year during the bitter cold of winter, his health would take a turn for the worse. This year’s mid-winter was even colder than previous years, so his body was especially frail. Fortunately, Song Xizhi had grown used to this way of life, so he didn’t find it particularly painful.

Song Xizhi carelessly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and tossed the handkerchief into the nearby brazier.

The fire burned fiercely. With a sizzle, the blood-stained handkerchief was devoured completely in the blink of an eye.

Song Xizhi took a heavy cloak and wrapped it around himself, then sat before the dressing table to let Qiu Tong do his hair and makeup.

Song Xizhi looked at “her” in the mirror but always felt something was missing. He scanned the dressing table; it was overflowing with a dazzling array of gold, jade, and silver hairpins—the surface was almost too crowded to hold them all.

His slender fingers brushed past a gold-threaded “Twin Lotus” hairpin and a mutton-fat jade begonia pin, finally stopping on a water-red, lotus-shaped lip cream box.

Song Xizhi opened the lid and used his fingertip to dab some color onto his lips. The deep crimson of the lips contrasted sharply with his pale skin, looking very much like a camellia blooming breathtakingly in the night—even its final wilting seemed tragic and heroic.

Song Xizhi lowered his head to lick away the remaining lip cream from his finger. His pale, fragile nape was thus exposed right before the eyes of the person behind him.

Several faint silver needles suddenly appeared between Qiu Tong’s fingers.

One strike, and even the King of Hell couldn’t save him.

Song Xizhi kept his head lowered, seemingly unaware.

Could it be a trap? Remembering Song Xizhi’s performance earlier, Qiu Tong hesitated for a rare moment.

A split second later, she withdrew the silver needles. She submissively picked up a hairpin from the side and inserted it into his jet-black hair bun.

At the same time, the transparent silk threads between Song Xizhi’s fingers vanished without a sound.

This was the skill card Song Xizhi had drawn in his second reincarnation: Plain Silk: Fatal Strangling. Wherever air exists, it is my home field. Just now, had Qiu Tong made any move, the hidden silk threads permeating the air would have strangled her instantly.

Qiu Tong did not know that her intuition had saved her life once again.

Song Xizhi stood up, wrapped his thick fur coat tightly, and pushed open the window. Bright white snow clung to the layers of red roof tiles, almost merging with the horizon.

Song Xizhi lowered his eyelids slightly, his crow-black lashes casting shadows on his face. No matter how beautiful the scenery, after watching it for three lifetimes, he had grown tired of it. This world, really—

He wanted to fight the BOSS.