The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 2

Yin Jiuruo ran all the way, finally returning to her small courtyard with missing tiles and broken walls just as her strength was about to give out.

She pushed open the courtyard gate, the sound of her collapsing by the well loud enough to startle someone who came flying out of the house in delight.

“Jiuruo, you’re back? I thought you hadn’t escaped the demon’s lair and was about to gather weapons to rescue you.”

Gather weapons to rescue her? As Yin Jiuruo struggled to catch her breath, she saw her good friend Feng Qi, dressed in a coarse linen shirt and carrying a pickaxe, shivering from the cold yet looking utterly righteous.

“Rescue me with a pickaxe?” Yin Jiuruo asked hesitantly.

“Well, I couldn’t find any help no one was willing to aid us,” Feng Qi’s voice trailed off weakly.

Because of the red marks on Yin Jiuruo’s face, many people said she was the reincarnation of a cursed child, destined to bring disaster, and wished she were dead.

These people only ever cursed Jiuruo as a harbinger of doom, a bastard, an ill-omened orphan with no parents.

Yin Jiuruo fell silent for a moment, her disheveled bangs covering the red patterns around her eyes, making her appear frail and gloomy.

“How did you manage to escape? I heard that your group was taken to be steamed alive, and even the arriving cultivators couldn’t save you,” Feng Qi said as she helped Yin Jiuruo into their drafty tiled house and brought her a basin of hot water.

The scalding steam brought a faint flush to Yin Jiuruo’s pale cheeks, making her look a bit more human. She curled her lips slightly and said, “The demon thought I was too ugly to eat said I’d ruin their appetite.”

Feng Qi frowned and said earnestly, “Jiuruo, you’re not ugly. You’re just a bit skinny and short. And what’s wrong with having marks on your face? It’s called being unique.”

“Stop, stop, stop. Feng Qi, let’s leave this place,” Yin Jiuruo said, glancing around their bare, impoverished home. “Let’s go now.”

“Demons are wreaking havoc across all nine continents. Where can we go?”

They had discussed this question before, and since the townspeople had never welcomed them, leaving was for the best.

“I don’t know,” Yin Jiuruo murmured, her pitch-black eyes showing a hint of confusion. Thinking of Fu Qing and their countless days and nights of intimacy, she whispered, “Aren’t you a descendant of Zhuanxu? Even though divine arts are lost now and cultivation is difficult, we could still visit the ruins of your clan. Maybe you can inherit something.”

“But the ruins of Zhuanxu are thousands of miles away, and we’d have to cross the sea.”

Ignoring Feng Qi’s protests, Yin Jiuruo changed into her only remaining plain robe and hurriedly urged Feng Qi to leave.

Just as they reached the courtyard gate, Yin Jiuruo stopped and dashed back inside.

Feng Qi called out in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“We have to take the tools for scraping barnacles and trimming hooves,” Yin Jiuruo said seriously, packing away the sharp knives and pliers.

Feng Qi: “…”

She and Yin Jiuruo had relied on each other for survival in this peach blossom town of Beiming for four or five years, yet she still felt she didn’t quite understand Yin Jiuruo.

Though they usually made a living by scraping barnacles off sea creatures, Yin Jiuruo seemed a bit too attached to her old trade.

“Jiuruo, are we still going to be scraping barnacles in the future?”

Wrapping the dried venison from the kitchen in oiled paper, Yin Jiuruo looked up at the sky. Wisps of clouds floated high above, and the waves around the distant black reefs weren’t too rough, a passable day for travel.

“We can cross the sea and trade barnacles and other sea creatures for food and drink,” Yin Jiuruo grabbed a handful of snow from the peach tree branches and tasted it. “Take advantage of the good weather now, you’ll need to summon the wind later to make the boat go faster.”

“Alright, alright. It’s not like I’m good for much else besides this bit of Zhuanxu magic,” Feng Qi grumbled.

The thought of leaving behind the cheap braised meat from the corner stall in town made Feng Qi a little melancholy.

At sea, the western sky darkened.

In the distance, specks of dusk gathered like scattered sesame seeds, and seabirds slumbered in the long night.

Yin Jiuruo and Feng Qi worked together to drag the small, black-canopied boat they had built three years earlier out from the cave.

Pulling it across the endless cold sand, they finally got the boat into the water. Yin Jiuruo rubbed her sore, slender wrists, wondering if that Daoist Venerable Chang Fan was alright.

She suddenly regretted leaving such a breathtakingly beautiful woman alone in that dilapidated house.

The image of the woman in white tall, graceful, and ethereal flashed through her mind again. Yin Jiuruo bit her lip, overwhelmed by regret, confusion, and a deep sense of loss.

By leaving like this, she might never see Daoist Venerable Chang Fan again.

An inexplicable reluctance welled up in her, but a faint voice in her mind warned her that getting involved with this venerable one would only bring misfortune.

“Are we really just going to leave like this? What about the courtesan sister?” Feng Qi suddenly remembered the brothel’s top courtesan they had been protecting, they should have taken her with them.

Thinking of that delicate, helpless woman, Yin Jiuruo’s delicate brows furrowed. She was just about to suggest sneaking back to rescue her when Feng Qi sighed dreamily, “The immortal is so beautiful.”

Following Feng Qi’s gaze, Yin Jiuruo looked up to see a slender, graceful figure standing beneath the moonlit sky, stars flickering around her.

The sea reflected the moonlight like a layer of clear water, flowing over the woman’s white robes, crystalline and pure, sacred yet ephemeral.

Fu Qing descended onto the water’s surface, holding a lantern, her expression solemn almost murderous. The tips of her toes barely touched the water, sending ripples of silver light shimmering outward, light as a feather.

“Jiuruo, come quick and pay respects to the immortal! This is our stroke of luck!” Feng Qi grabbed Yin Jiuruo’s hand, which had been about to hoist the sail.

Yin Jiuruo’s heart pounded like thunder once more, a mix of shock and fear and beneath it, a flicker of joy she hadn’t even noticed.

“Look, she’s really an immortal she can fly!” Feng Qi was beyond excited.

“Or it could be a scam,” Yin Jiuruo muttered, her mind in turmoil as she unconsciously rowed the boat fifty meters away.

The snowflakes drifted sparsely now, the frosty moon sinking toward the sea. Fu Qing remained where she stood, her white robes fluttering in the wind.

Yin Jiuruo’s hands trembled so badly she could barely hold the oar. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to appear calm.

Seeing her friend’s face alternate between red and pale, Feng Qi grew even more puzzled. “Jiuruo, she must be a cultivator from the Canglan Sect her robes have the silver halo insignia. She’s the one who saved those captured people the other day.”

“This Venerable’s love poison remains unresolved,” Fu Qing said calmly.

What did that mean? Yin Jiuruo’s already flushed face burned even hotter. Did she still need to with her?

Meanwhile, Feng Qi exploded at the mention of “love poison.” “Jiuruo, what love poison? Why would an immortal with love poison need you?”

“After yesterday, it still isn’t resolved? Didn’t you take any alchemical pills?” Yin Jiuruo asked, unaware of the concern and urgency in her own voice.

Fu Qing answered succinctly, “This poison cannot be cured by medicine.”

Stopping the boat, Yin Jiuruo turned and stood, facing the woman whose face was identical to the Demon Lord’s yet colder, more transcendent. Her heart twisted in turmoil, leaving her speechless for a long time.

Seeing this, Fu Qing’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion.

To Yin Jiuruo’s eyes, the aloof beauty’s faint frown carried an indescribable grace and charm.

“This venerable one needs only you,” the beauty said coldly.

Feng Qi, upon hearing these words, nearly fell into the sea. “Jiuruo, you’ve caught the attention of an immortal! Who knows, they might want to marry you and have the wedding night right away.”

Yin Jiuruo turned and glared fiercely at Feng Qi.

Unexpectedly, Feng Qi paid no heed to Yin Jiuruo and instead fawned over Fu Qing:

“Immortal, our Jiuruo would be more than happy to offer herself in assistance. But she’s been frail since childhood, so please be gentle with her.”

“You!” Yin Jiuruo was both humiliated and speechless. She instinctively took two steps back, only to lose her balance and tumble into the sea.

Fu Qing’s figure fluttered like a wisp of light, her white robes gleaming as she rode the wind to catch Yin Jiuruo’s delicate body. The two sank together into the deep sea.

“Listen carefully as this venerable one teaches you the method of dual cultivation.” As they fully submerged, Yin Jiuruo’s eyes widened in disbelief Fu Qing had spoken so casually about such an intimate act.

This ethereal, ice-cold immortal must be mad. Without even a name or status, in the wild, open wilderness by the sea.

The next moment, the woman pressed against her shoulder and leaned in again. Yin Jiuruo lost all ability to think.

Fu Qing’s lips were soft and cold, carrying a distant, lotus-like fragrance.

“Will it hurt?”

Seeing the fleeting concern in the girl’s eyes, Fu Qing shook her head. “No.”

The suffocating grip of drowning threatened their lives. Yin Jiuruo could hear the woman’s moans mournful yet seductive.

Between their tightly pressed lips flowed icy spring water. Death was like a sharp blade, mingling with the overwhelming pleasure of spiritual union, spreading slowly and indifferently across their seamlessly joined skin.

A lone boat drifted silently back to the shore. Feng Qi stood solitary, hugging herself against the biting sea wind and the desolation in her heart.

After what felt like an eternity, Feng Qi sat on the beach and watched as Yin Jiuruo emerged from the depths, disheveled and with blood-stained lips.

“My heavens, did the immortal ravage you?”

Wiping the blood from her lips with a finger, Yin Jiuruo’s frail and harmless face flushed red as expected. Remembering Fu Qing’s tousled hair and jade-like skin crisscrossed with red marks, she averted her gaze and remained silent.

“Let’s hurry and get Sister Huakui out, then leave by another route.”

“Jiuruo, aren’t you going to take responsibility? You just slept with her shouldn’t you at least say something?”

Yin Jiuruo pursed her lips, her dark, slender eyes flickering uncertainly as she struggled to voice her commitment.

But the demon lord’s prophetic words echoed in her ears, filling her with an animal-like instinct toward Fu Qing, a desire to draw near, yet knowing the danger.

“Let’s go get Sister Huakui first.”

“Alright.” Feng Qi found Yin Jiuruo strangely different in that moment, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. It was as if the immortal and her shared countless untold stories.

Yet the two had only just met.

As they trudged wearily toward the town, a frost-laden voice called out from behind.

“Still trying to run?”

Yin Jiuruo’s heart skipped a beat, that tingling electric sensation coursing through her body once more.

Just moments ago, that voice had been weak and broken, like sobs after being played with. Now, it had returned to its usual cold, lofty elegance.

“Wait, wait,” Feng Qi responded swiftly, “Immortal, we have important matters to attend to.” Fu Qing’s mind was steady, her hair like flowing seaweed, her snow-white robes immaculate, showing no trace of the intense passion from moments ago. The lingering tenderness dissipated entirely, replaced by an aura of holding the universe in her hands, wielding the power of life and death.

She fixed her gaze intently on Yin Jiuruo, her lips parting slightly: “What is it?”

“To the brothel,” Yin Jiuruo answered truthfully.

Fu Qing’s brows furrowed slightly: “The brothel?”

Support The Frost Beneath Her Veil