The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 10

Fu Qing’s lips paused, then slowly pulled away. She gazed at Yin Jiuruo with eyes that were dark and unreadable, as if waiting for an answer.

“I am not… unwilling,” Yin Jiuruo forced herself to lie. For a disciple to harbor such thoughts for her master was a betrayal of all principles.

“She and I are childhood friends. You need not worry about our relationship,” Fu Qing said indifferently, yet her eyes did not miss a single subtle shift in Yin Jiuruo’s expression.

“Xiao Jiu understands.”

It felt as though sour bubbles were swirling behind her eyes. Yin Jiuruo lowered her head, feeling foolish. She had assumed that because Fu Qing seemed cold toward Shen Cangli, their relationship must be strained.

She hadn’t realized that in the places she couldn’t see, Fu Qing and Shen Cangli had shared a lifetime of moments.

To Fu Qing, she was likely just a small animal picked up by chance in the snow—not much different from Xiao Huo. Fu Qing gave Xiao Huo five hundred years of life; she gave Yin Jiuruo a place as her disciple.

The warmth bestowed by the compassionate Venerable Master Chang Fan was merely alms given on a whim—yet it was the only light in Yin Jiuruo’s life.

“Xiao Jiu, your injuries are severe. Recite the mantra and enter dual cultivation with me to heal.”

“Wha—what?”

Yin Jiuruo had lost too much blood. Within her sea of consciousness, her face appeared even more frail and pale, her long lashes fluttering like the wings of a broken butterfly.

In the spiritual sea, a divine tree emerged, shrouded in the mist of spring mountains. Its leaves, resembling light clouds, rustled as they fell, translucent and weaving an illusion like an ancient mirror.

The two sat embraced beneath the tree. Fu Qing’s eyes were cast down, her voice solemn and carrying a stainless sanctity that transcended mortal desire.

“Dual cultivation is merely a method of practice. There is no need to overthink it.”

Yin Jiuruo could feel Fu Qing’s breath—rapid and fragrant as orchids. She didn’t understand how she was supposed to not overthink it. Fu Qing had a fiancée, yet frequently engaged in dual cultivation with her. She didn’t understand, and she couldn’t stop her mind from racing.

Sometimes, she thought it might have been better if Fu Qing had left her to sink into the cold, lonely mire—rather than standing on the shore, holding a lantern and reaching out a hand.

A person starving for warmth will swim toward Fu Qing without hesitation, even knowing the far shore might be an illusion.

The soft moans during their soul-melding were real. The friction of their spirits and the heat of their breath made her blood boil.

The method of dual cultivation was like a chanted mantra—elegant and harmonious. In their spiritual sea, water gurgled softly. Their skin, soft and smooth as blooming snow lotuses, became dappled with faint red marks.

The process washed away the turbid injuries, leaving behind a pure, radiant light in the heart.

Her injuries did indeed heal rapidly. Yin Jiuruo felt a tingling sensation wherever Fu Qing’s lips touched; it was the healing of flesh, but also the merging of spirits.

However, she noticed one thing: Fu Qing’s eyes remained cold. The only one drowning in the depths of this intimacy was herself.

The woman was sober, clear-headed, and holy. She was neither fervent nor urgent, appearing even more detached from desire than the deities in the portraits.

When she woke, the space beside her was cold. Yin Jiuruo sat up abruptly, startling the two people waiting by her bed.

Feng Qi was still bleary-eyed, but Chong You rushed over, squeezing Yin Jiuruo’s shoulder with a smile.

“Your injuries really are all healed. Her Eminence’s medicine is incredibly effective.”

At the mention of “medicine,” Yin Jiuruo immediately recalled the absurdity of what happened in the spiritual sea, leaving her lost and unsure of where to go.

She lowered her face, her hair obscuring the dark red markings as she buried herself back into the quilts.

“I think Her Eminence’s birthday is coming up. Have you prepared a gift?”

Yin Jiuruo didn’t answer. Instead, she jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen. Using the Tiao Grass tea, she prepared a fresh tea jelly. She even used the thin layer of snow gathered from the tips of the plum branches at Hexue Peak to ensure the jelly was crisp and elegant.

“My, you’re so devoted to Her Eminence. Making snacks for her even while you’re injured—tsk tsk.” Feng Qi teased her loudly.

“That’s because Junior Sister is filial,” Chong You said with a wink. “Unlike someone who ran to bring me meals every day when I was away hunting demons for a month.”

Exposed in front of the person she admired, Feng Qi turned red with embarrassment. She grabbed Yin Jiuruo and bolted out of the kitchen to collect more snow water.

“Since you learned how to tend to the plants from the Crane Boy, these plum blossoms have been blooming much better,” Feng Qi remarked, picking snow while thinking of making soup for Chong You.

“It’s not much harder than scraping barnacles.”

“You wouldn’t be this hardworking just because Her Eminence likes plum blossoms, would you?” Feng Qi looked at her suspiciously. She joked often, but if Yin Jiuruo truly harbored those kinds of feelings would that be a good or a bad thing?

A plum branch trembled, and Yin Jiuruo missed the snow she was reaching for. She pursed her lips. “This is enough. I’m going to check the tea jelly. You and Senior Sister should help me taste it.”

In the small kitchen of the Cliffside Residence, snow water boiled in a purple clay pot. Yin Jiuruo ground the Tiao Grass tea into a fine powder and placed a spoonful into a jade porcelain cup.

After Chong You and Feng Qi sampled it, Yin Jiuruo prepared a bowl to bring to Fu Qing.

The area around the Moon-Facing Residence was planted with green bamboo, quiet and elegant. Before they could even approach, they heard the happy laughter of a young woman.

“Your Eminence is so skilled! I love this little tiger pouch you gave me. Once I learn embroidery, I’ll make one exactly like it for you.”

“Good. I shall wait for it,” Fu Qing replied. Her hair was down, adorned with a single flower, and she wore a long white dress. Her collar was slightly loose, giving her a rare look of languid beauty.

“Who is that? How can she be drinking tea with Her Eminence so intimately?” Feng Qi’s brow furrowed, her irritation reaching the sky.

Chong You looked closer. She remembered this person—a mortal sent by Shen Cangli of the Ruyi Sect, likely a relative.

The girl in purple spoke again, her voice crisp: “The tea Your Eminence brewed before was so good. I wonder if I can have it again?”

Hearing this, Fu Qing smiled. “Gouyu, if you wish to drink it, just say the word. I can brew a cup for you right now.”

“I bet Your Eminence actually wants to brew it for Young Master Shen,” the girl named Gouyu said, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

Feng Qi looked up and saw Yin Jiuruo’s pale, delicate face clouded with a dark, brooding shadow. The dark red markings on her skin seemed to pulse with the rhythm of flowing blood.

Fu Qing casually threw on an outer robe and opened the door, encountering the three people standing there.

“Greetings, Your Eminence,” Feng Qi and Chong You bowed hastily. Only Yin Jiuruo remained still, her head lowered.

“What is it?”

After a moment of silence, the older and more stable Chong You spoke. “Replying to Your Eminence, we accompanied Junior Sister Jiuruo to bring you some Tiao Grass tea jelly.”

“Tiao Grass tea? You went to Danmu Market?”

“Yes, Junior Sister went specifically when the tea was in season.”

“Tiao Grass tea?” The girl in purple, Gouyu, stepped out, her eyes shining. “I was lucky enough to taste the pot Your Eminence brewed for Young Master Shen. It was indeed a celestial grade.”

“Then you were lucky indeed,” Feng Qi said sarcastically.

Fu Qing looked down at the jelly Yin Jiuruo was holding. It was crystal clear and fragrant.

“Xiao Jiu, leave it there.”

“Yes.” Yin Jiuruo placed the tea jelly on the table.

“In ten days, it will be the apprenticeship ceremony for you and Gouyu,” Fu Qing said, flipping through an ancient book. “Do not be too nervous.”

“Yes,” Yin Jiuruo answered woodenly, then walked out dazed.

Passing through the courtyard as the lamps were being lit, she clutched her wound tiredly, a misty confusion in her phoenix eyes. She reached for the jade pendant Fu Qing had given her, only to find her waist empty.

She ran back to the courtyard of the Moon-Facing Residence in a panic. She didn’t have time to greet Feng Qi or Chong You, but she caught the tail end of Feng Qi’s voice drifting in the air:

“The love you receive is like the scraps someone picks out from their leftovers to give you as alms.”

The emerald jade was very conspicuous against the snow. Yin Jiuruo found it in the corner near the room.

Through the half-open window, voices drifted out.

“Your Eminence, why don’t you try the tea jelly?”

“Leave it for now.”

“Oh, I see. You only like the tea jelly Young Master Shen makes.”

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