The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 12

“This tea is truly fragrant, yet the Venerable One insists on having only this one cup,” Feng Qi remarked, her words laced with hidden meaning.

“Master, the Young Master of the Shen clan often talks with you deep into the night. Would my presence be inappropriate?” Gouyu asked.

“There is no need for concern.”

Fu Qing shook her head, her body faintly shimmering with celestial light. As the Daoist Sovereign, her beauty was naturally beyond reproach, yet she was far too majestic and cold. She truly seemed like a deity meant to be enshrined on a high altar, distant and severed from the mortal world.

“Senior Sister, I noticed earlier that your zither music is a bit outdated. My family just happened to send some new scores; I will bring them to you later,” Gouyu added, turning to look at Yin Jiuruo with a beaming smile.

Finally, Fu Qing turned her attention toward Yin Jiuruo. “Xiao Jiu, you have spent many days lingering by the ocean scraping barnacles, neglecting your studies. This Sovereign sentences you to the Chiming Cave to reflect on your mistakes for one month. Do you accept?”

“Master,” Yin Jiuruo looked at the Bixie zither resting on her knees and answered in a low voice, “This disciple accepts the punishment.”

Unbelievable, Feng Qi thought. In just one day, Gouyu had secured a position serving the Sovereign closely, while Jiuruo was relegated to a cave for reflection. Feng Qi felt her eyes had been truly opened; the Sovereign who practiced the Way of Emotionless surely held no regard for old ties. All this over a few mistakes while playing the zither?

Regardless of what those present thought, Yin Jiuruo shouldered her zither, bowed respectfully to Fu Qing, and rode the wind toward the Chiming Cave.

Though called a cave, the Chiming Cave was actually a fractured cliffside. Fierce yang winds howled there day and night, the sharp gales and constant mountain rain battering the stone walls until they cracked.

When Yin Jiuruo arrived, Xiao Huo—the little firefly she hadn’t seen in a while—leaped onto her shoulder. It had grown a size larger, looking quite plump from being nourished by the spiritual fruits and energy of the immortal mountain.

As Xiao Huo settled on Yin Jiuruo’s collarbone, she flicked its head gently. “At least you still remember me,” she murmured.

Reflecting in this place was no simple matter of sitting in silence. Once Yin Jiuruo set down the Bixie, the lines carved into the stone walls came to life, transforming into ancient masters and mythical beasts of the mountains and seas that lunged at her. They wouldn’t kill her, but they would certainly make her suffer.

After half a month of constant combat, Yin Jiuruo’s clothes were tattered. Her old wounds had not yet healed before new ones were added.

When Fu Qing arrived, she saw Yin Jiuruo leaning against the cliff edge clutching her zither. A streak of blood crossed the bridge of her nose, making her pale skin look translucent. A drop of fresh crimson hung at the corner of her mouth, vivid and tragic.

Suddenly, the omnipresent gale vanished. Yin Jiuruo startled awake from her daze, sensing the familiar sweet fragrance of the woman.

“Master,” she started to turn back toward Fu Qing, but the figure behind her simply said, “Quiet your mind and focus.”

She obediently fell silent.

Fu Qing, her white robes flowing, sat down with Yin Jiuruo on a platform formed of spiritual energy. As the warm, jade-like touch met her, Yin Jiuruo felt a vast yet gentle surge of spiritual energy travel through her body, rapidly healing her constitution.

Her body and Fu Qing’s had always been perfectly attuned. She accepted the energy completely, as if the two of them were originally one. The woman was, as always, both indulgent and detached, intimate yet indifferent—a contradiction with a fatal attraction.

Inadvertently, the collar of Fu Qing’s robe shifted open, revealing a small red mole on the curve beneath her snowy collarbone, a mesmerizing speck of color.

“Master, why are you here?” Yin Jiuruo guiltily averted her gaze.

“Cangli and I were passing by and decided to check on you.”

Not far away sat a basket made of pear wood, filled with specialties from the Ruyi Sect. Yin Jiuruo’s eyes dimmed considerably. Her chaotic emotions, stirred by the woman’s casual touch and words, surged like a tide only to come crashing down.

Fu Qing gently combed Yin Jiuruo’s hair. “Are you still angry that this Sovereign left you here alone?”

“No. I wouldn’t dare be angry.”

The woman let out a soft laugh, her cold voice carrying a hint of doting. “Very well. Your reflection here has been effective; it is time for a reward.”

Staring at a stalk of foxtail grass swaying on the cliffside, Yin Jiuruo’s heart began to race, and a flush crept up her cheeks. “Master, your birthday is approaching. Could I…”

“Could you what?”

Yin Jiuruo knew Fu Qing had always been fond of Mohist mechanical arts. “There is a mechanical exhibition in Jimo County, a thousand miles away. I managed to secure two spots.”

“You went to scrape barnacles just to save spiritual stones for those spots?” Fu Qing let out a long sigh, a trace of complexity hidden deep within her eyes.

Yin Jiuruo remained silent.

“Fine. On my birthday, this Sovereign will go with you.”

The words had barely fallen before the figure was gone. The corners of Yin Jiuruo’s lips lifted slightly, but then she saw the distant figures of Shen Cangli and Fu Qing walking side by side. The joy in her heart was quickly replaced by bitterness. The smile froze on her face and slowly vanished.

The foxtail grass had been snapped by the gale, leaving only a bare root that could no longer sway. Although she and Fu Qing gazed at the same moonlight, while she was smiling like a fool under its glow, Fu Qing was likely enjoying a harmonious moment of mutual affection with Shen Cangli.

Two months later, it was Fu Qing’s birthday. By rights, cultivators should discard worldly customs, but the birthday of the Daoist Sovereign was an extraordinary event. A massive number of sects sent congratulatory gifts. The Sect Leader and Chong You were busy registering the gifts, calculating their value and how to return the favor in the coming year—accounting more precisely than any mortal merchant.

On Hexue Peak, Feng Qi held the finalized gift ledger to show Fu Qing one last time. Coming across Yin Jiuruo playing the zither alone, she hurried over to talk to her.

“Jiuruo, I saw the gift Shen Cangli sent the Sovereign. It’s a jasper hairpin she made herself. She has no taste—the Sovereign usually only uses green bamboo for her hair. It’s so tacky,” Feng Qi said, asking Yin Jiuruo to lead the way.

“Mhm, I know,” Yin Jiuruo replied, her voice indifferent as she let the snow settle on her shoulders. She knew Fu Qing had returned from the Ruyi Sect, and the mechanical exhibition in Jimo County had already begun.

“You aren’t close to me anymore; you don’t tell me anything,” Feng Qi couldn’t help but exclaim. “The gift you’re giving the Sovereign is a sachet made from the tail feathers of a Qingluan bird. I was wondering why you were scraping barnacles so desperately; it was to trade with sea beasts so they would take you to Mount Sanwei to seek feathers from the Qingluan.”

Mount Sanwei was the legendary home of the ancient divine beast, the Qingluan—a place beyond the mortal realm that only those with destiny could find.

Yin Jiuruo looked at the sachet in her hand with curved eyes and whispered, “Don’t say too much. The divine bird gave me its feathers, and I wasn’t in any real danger.”

“By the time there’s danger, it’s too late; not even the gods could save you. I don’t know why the divine bird would take pity on you and be so generous with its tail feathers.”

This was Feng Qi’s second time at the Linyue Residence. As they entered the courtyard, they saw Shen Cangli entering Fu Qing’s study ahead of them.

“Changfan, you look quite beautiful wearing this jasper hairpin.”

Shen Cangli and Fu Qing shared a smile. When Shen Cangli noticed Yin Jiuruo, she asked with a grin, “Jiuruo, have you come to give your Master a birthday gift too?”

Yin Jiuruo nodded woodenly, not understanding why Shen Cangli was still here. She saw the jasper hairpin in Fu Qing’s hair; it reflected the sunlight, appearing somewhat piercing to her eyes.

“Master, it is time. Can we depart for Jimo County now?”

“Yes,” Fu Qing replied. “Cangli will be coming with us as well.”

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