The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 17

Suddenly, Fu Qing’s sound transmission tube vibrated. She stood and left the room.

Through the window, Yin Jiuruo watched the fine snow swirling like mist and the willow branches swaying like smoke in the distance. A green jade paper umbrella opened amidst the dancing snow, shielding the cold that threatened to settle on one’s heart.

The Young Master of the Shen clan seemed to be telling Fu Qing something amusing; her expression was radiant and beautiful. Fu Qing held the umbrella for her, tilting it visibly toward the other woman’s side, seemingly unaware that her own shoulder was becoming heavy with thin snow.

The Daoist Sovereign in white—her nature like white jade, her character proud as frosted blossoms—offered protection to everyone with the same measured grace.

It turned out that Yin Jiuruo was merely one of the many beings within Fu Qing’s universal compassion. She was nothing special.

In the darkness, a sharp pain flared in her chest. Her heart’s blood grew heavy with a small, burgeoning sense of despair.

“Changfan, I shall head back first. Take good care of your disciple, and do not overwork yourself,” Shen Cangli, the Young Master of the Ruyi Sect, instructed Fu Qing reluctantly.

“I won’t. Xiao Jiu is very well-behaved,” Fu Qing replied with a lingering soft smile as she saw Shen Cangli off. When she returned, her eyes met Yin Jiuruo’s.

The young girl’s pupils were a rare, pure black—dark and deep like a bottomless abyss—yet her thoughts were unexpectedly simple and clear. Strangely, despite ten years having passed, Yin Jiuruo felt no sense of distance or unfamiliarity. Everything felt as if it had happened only yesterday.

Her Master remained as cold and heartless as ever.

The room was illuminated by warm candlelight, and the panic in Yin Jiuruo’s heart finally began to subside. Noticing this, Fu Qing thoughtfully lit another candle. As the woman paced toward the bedside, Yin Jiuruo saw that she was carrying several small jade vials.

The woman didn’t say much. She poured a pill from a red vial and moved to let Yin Jiuruo take it. As the slender, white fingertips approached with the medicine, Yin Jiuruo instinctively opened her mouth to swallow. Her lips were repeatedly brushed by Fu Qing’s finger before warm water was offered to her.

Seeing Yin Jiuruo take the medicine obediently, Fu Qing finally allowed the corners of her lips to curve slightly. In an instant, it was as if spring waters were warming and lotus leaves were blooming.

“This Sovereign must remove these seven Spirit-Sunder Nails. It may be somewhat painful.”

“Thank you, Master,” Yin Jiuruo whispered. She watched as Fu Qing leaned down, her crimson lips brushing past the tip of Yin Jiuruo’s nose. Her slender waist was like a flower vine soaked in spring water as she pulled out the nail from Yin Jiuruo’s brow.

The rusty Spirit-Sunder Nail carried an ancient, solemn murderous intent. Once removed, Yin Jiuruo began to bleed uncontrollably. The red from her brow quickly soaked into her skin and even flowed into her eyes, staining her snowy complexion with a shocking, vivid crimson.

As all seven nails were removed, Yin Jiuruo’s body trembled uncontrollably with pain. Yet, because her meridians were damaged, she couldn’t even manage to curl up. The bloodstains on her pale, frail body were hauntingly beautiful. She looked so fragile that one might feel an urge to shatter her completely.

Hearing Yin Jiuruo’s small cries of pain, a hint of red appeared in Fu Qing’s eyes, swirling with an indescribable dark emotion. She dipped her finger in spiritual medicine and meticulously applied it to the girl’s wounds, feeling her tremble with pain caused by her own hand.

“Xiao Jiu, stay here in Linyue Residence to recover. You are not to leave as you please.”

The spiritual medicine was cool, dissolving the pain. In a daze, Yin Jiuruo thought she heard a hint of possessiveness in Fu Qing’s cold words, but then assumed it was merely a subtle hallucination.

“Okay.”

“Regarding the matter with Gouyu, the sect did indeed wrong you. This Sovereign knew she was of the Demon Race; remaining silent was only to uncover her objective.”

“You knew from the beginning she was a spy?” Yin Jiuruo opened her eyes in astonishment. She saw her own blood staining Fu Qing’s white robes—the spotless vestments now marred by tiny, piercing spots of red.

“Indeed,” Fu Qing replied, her expression calm as usual.

A long silence filled the room. Yin Jiuruo suddenly felt a sense of loss, as if she had lost all her body heat in an instant.

“Master, why didn’t you tell me anything from the start, knowing Gouyu was the spy?” She didn’t seem to expect an answer, but continued to herself, “I know my cultivation is meager and I cannot help much, but why must I be kept in the dark about everything?”

Fu Qing seemed not to understand the reason for Yin Jiuruo’s resentment. She casually lit the candle on the table and silently changed both Yin Jiuruo and herself into warm, dry robes. Under the light of the flickering candle, Yin Jiuruo remained stubbornly silent.

“Does it matter whether you knew or not?” Fu Qing asked coldly.

By the candlelight, Yin Jiuruo looked at the Daoist Sovereign pure, stainless, and peerless. She possessed a sacred air of universal compassion, radiating a tolerance that seemed to say, I allow you to love me.

But Fu Qing was heartless.

Yin Jiuruo shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

To someone as weak as her, it didn’t matter. But she was still unwilling; she wanted to be of use. “But I also wanted to help you, Master.”

A flash of surprise crossed the woman’s face. She asked softly, “Help me with what?”

Yin Jiuruo lowered her head and twisted her fingers. “Master, I know your cultivation is profound, but… you get tired, and you get hurt. I don’t want to only be the one receiving your protection.”

Fu Qing pulled her loose collar together, hiding the last glimpse of spring on her lustrous skin. Her heart trembled faintly. She had heard many times that she was a powerful Sovereign, invincible under heaven, but this was the first time someone had said they wanted to protect her—even if it was a display of gross overestimation of one’s own strength.

“Recover well. This Sovereign will visit you again tomorrow.” For some reason, she felt a slight shortness of breath and, for the first time, wanted to distance herself.

“Master, will my injuries ever truly heal?” Yin Jiuruo asked just as Fu Qing was about to leave.

Fu Qing paused, then shook her head with certainty. “They will. This Sovereign will heal you.”

After a few noisy days, Linyue Residence finally quieted down. The slow sun coaxed the flowers, and the weather fluctuated between light cold and gentle warmth.

Chong You was now the Head Disciple. Barring any accidents, she would be the next Sect Leader. She visited Yin Jiuruo briefly before hurrying off to handle sect affairs. Only Feng Qi could stay with her, pushing her aimlessly around Hexue Peak in the wheelchair Fu Qing had crafted.

“Feng Qi, do you know what really happened with Gouyu?”

They were in the plum forest behind the Dew Platform. Plum branches intertwined, and a subtle fragrance drifted through the air. Feng Qi hesitated for a moment, her eyes shifting elsewhere. “The disciples sent to find Suige couldn’t locate her, which is why you remained imprisoned. Gouyu spent every day cultivating by the Sovereign’s side; I didn’t know her movements.”

“I heard that during these ten years, you and Senior Sister Chong You often came to find me, but were forbidden from entering the Gamo Heart Tower,” Yin Jiuruo’s dark eyelashes lowered like butterfly wings.

The plump white firefly, Xiao Huo, slept on her shoulder. Since her return, it had hugged her and cried several times. Though it couldn’t speak, its sadness was evident. It now refused to leave her side—one of the few comforts she currently possessed.

“Yes. The Sovereign said it was for your protection.”

“I see,” Yin Jiuruo stared at the snow on the ground, asking Feng Qi to push her elsewhere to clear her mind.

“I have calculated it. You and the Sovereign have several lifetimes of entanglement. Once she finishes handling that great matter, your wedding will proceed as scheduled.”

It was the Sect Leader’s voice. The other person was Shen Cangli, who had yet to leave the Canglan Sect.

“I understand the Sect Leader’s meaning, but Changfan has been planning for that matter for a long time. I am truly worried…”

Feng Qi hurriedly pushed Yin Jiuruo back to her room. She was the only one who knew about the complex relationship between these two—both master/disciple and lovers—and understood how devastating this news would be to an injured person. Just as she was about to offer some comfort, Fu Qing’s calm voice sounded from behind.

“Feng Qi, go back. This Sovereign must change Xiao Jiu’s bandages.”

A plum branch peeked through the window, a scene of jade trees and jeweled flowers. Yin Jiuruo sat in her wheelchair, her expression bleak. She had to tilt her head back sharply to see Fu Qing’s face.

“After you marry the Young Master of the Shen clan, you will move to the Ruyi Sect, won’t you?”

The woman leaned down, her breathtaking features shimmering with a soft, moist light.

“Xiao Jiu, call me Master. I will marry you.”

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