The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 24

Her perception of time had become a numb blur. Yin Jiuruo forced herself to sit up, her long hair cascading like flowing water. Cold sweat soaked her back, and her skin appeared as cold and white as tempered jade.

As a gentle breeze blew in, she realized the spiritual cage had been removed. She could see the thousands of miles of frost on Hexue Peak, the plum blossoms in full bloom, and the parasol flowers withering away. The pond by the Dew Platform was covered in a thick layer of ice; she remembered that the mountain lotuses she had bought earlier hadn’t been planted yet.

It seemed they would have to wait until after the wedding.

“Xiao Jiu, we are about to be married. Are you happy?” the woman asked. The corners of her eyes were flushed, her dark pupils veiled in a mist of moisture, her voice coaxing.

“Mas… Master,” Yin Jiuruo felt as though she had forgotten many important things. But she was getting married—marrying the person she admired and loved. “I am very happy.”

“We are getting married,” Fu Qing said, looking deep into Yin Jiuruo’s hazy pupils with a faint smile. “And you still call me Master?”

Thump. Yin Jiuruo’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a wave of shyness once more. Well, back then when she was poisoned by the aphrodisiac, she hadn’t been very lucid. But the feeling of joyous excitement mixed with trepidation remained profound.

She whispered the name “Fu Qing” in a tiny voice.

The woman set down the wedding robes, her posture dignified and steady. “Someone will take you to the Abandoned Firmament Hall shortly. Wash and change your clothes first.”

Seeing Fu Qing about to leave, Yin Jiuruo hurriedly asked, “And what will you be doing?”

The woman smiled softly again. “Silly. Naturally, I am also washing and changing, so that we may perform the ceremony.”

After Fu Qing’s slender figure departed, Yin Jiuruo bathed with a sense of fatigue. She felt that Fu Qing had smiled at her more today than ever before.

She had just finished putting on her inner robes when a large group of people in uniform dress swarmed into the room, wordlessly beginning to dress her. A jade crown inlaid with pigeon-blood rubies bound her hair. The bright red wedding robe was embroidered with dense, intricate cloud patterns—exquisite, complex, and infused with spiritual power that shimmered like stars.

Outside Linyue Residence, snow carpeted the ground. The crane boy, the mechanical black bear, and the penguin stood in a row, all calling out “Little Master.” Yin Jiuruo nodded to them. Xiao Huo hopped onto her shoulder; for the festive occasion, it had a red silk ribbon tied in a bow around its body.

A massive crowd followed behind her, making the procession feel far from lonely, yet strangely, there wasn’t a single familiar face. Senior Sister Chong You and Feng Qi were nowhere to be found. The entire Canglan Sect felt utterly foreign.

Perhaps everyone is already at the Abandoned Firmament Hall, she thought wonderingly, realizing the cold wind was giving her a headache. The Dao companion she was about to marry was a supreme being of the cultivation world, while she herself was little more than a waste.

“Please hurry to the hall, Young Lord Bixie. Do not miss the auspicious hour.”

The crane boy stepped forward to re-tie the Double Fish jade pendant for her. “Little Master, go in peace. The Venerable One is waiting for you there.”

Yin Jiuruo nodded, gave a soft “okay,” and managed to fly her zither to the front of the Abandoned Firmament Hall. As expected, a vast sea of people stood there.

Fu Qing looked peerless, dressed in an identical bright red wedding robe. She stood at the highest point of the white marble steps, her beautiful face looking like a mix of sorrow and joy. This was the first time Yin Jiuruo had seen Fu Qing in anything other than white. The magnificent red highlighted the woman’s frost-like skin, making her look cold, ethereal, and as radiant as spring flowers.

“Xiao Jiu, come here,” Fu Qing said, reaching out her hand.

The white steps were high. Yin Jiuruo looked up at the woman who stood as elegant as a jade tree. Using every ounce of her strength, she could only walk slowly, as if the walk itself were a lifetime long.

Once they stood together at the clouds’ edge, the Sect Leader acted as the master of ceremonies, looking jubilant.

“First bow to Heaven and Earth.” “Second bow to the True Law.” “Husband and wife bow to each other.”

Nine-tailed black birds soared into the sky, breaking through the clouds and mist to fly in pairs. The horizon was bathed in red light, and the sound of the wind was vast and grand.

“Congratulations, Venerable One! Blessings to the Sovereign!” The sect leaders and disciples of various sects offered their congratulations. Yin Jiuruo looked down but couldn’t see their faces clearly. Despite the festive red decorations everywhere, there was a hidden sense of murderous intent in the air.

Only Shen Cangli watched coldly. She truly could not bring herself to pretend to congratulate a pawn who was being toyed with. Her heart was filled only for Fu Qing, who had to suffer through this charade with Yin Jiuruo for the sake of stabilizing the world.

Dressed in her wedding robes, looking somewhat celestial and bright like the moon, Yin Jiuruo stood by Fu Qing’s side, passively accepting everyone’s blessings. These people were all smiling at her, yet it gave her an inexplicable shiver as if she were a fine delicacy, merely waiting for the right moment to be devoured.

Normally, a wedding would involve a grand banquet with toasts at every table, but Fu Qing brought Yin Jiuruo back to the room early not to Hexue Peak, but to the rear palace of the Abandoned Firmament Hall.

Inside and out, the hall was decorated with lanterns and streamers. Coral incense from the bottom of the East Sea burned, and there was a carved canopy bed made of rare Yan wood.

“This was once my residence as the Daoist Sovereign,” Fu Qing said, staring at the sky outside the window as if waiting for something. Without waiting for Yin Jiuruo to speak, a disciple presented the ceremonial wine. A bottle gourd had been split into two ladles; Fu Qing handed half to Yin Jiuruo and drank hers in silence.

Finding it strange but having no choice, Yin Jiuruo drank the wine as well.

“Everyone, leave us. I want to be alone with Xiao Jiu for a while,” Fu Qing said calmly. Yet, Yin Jiuruo sensed a hidden urgency beneath her soft words.

Only the two of them remained in the room. The bed was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of spring.

“Aren’t there other procedures? Why did you let them leave?”

“I wanted to spend more time with Xiao Jiu,” Fu Qing said, her eyes containing a soft, warm light.

Yin Jiuruo’s face immediately flushed, and she hurried to change the subject. “Master… Fu Qing, why didn’t I see Senior Sister Chong You or Feng Qi? Or any of the brothers I know?”

She was still frowning, about to ask more, when Fu Qing’s fingertip pressed against her lips.

“On our wedding night, Xiao Jiu is still thinking of others?”

With a lapful of fragrance, Yin Jiuruo was speechless. “I… I’m not. It’s just that when I saw Young Master Shen today, she seemed very dejected.”

“Ignore her. She is not important,” Fu Qing said, her thick, long lashes half-lowered.

“Okay,” Yin Jiuruo sat on the edge of the bed nervously, her pure black eyes reflecting the single candle flame on the table.

A red candle burned quietly in the room. Their lips met tentatively in a kiss. Soon, Yin Jiuruo gripped the silk wedding quilt tightly. Unlike usual, Fu Qing’s gaze was deep, her teeth grinding repeatedly, bringing an unimaginable tingling itch to Yin Jiuruo. It seemed the ceremonial wine had caused a fine, dense stinging pain to sprout in her body. In the spiritual sea, her soul—already familiar with the other—mistook the pain for a new kind of play. It absorbed the pain without reservation, bringing an extreme sense of moisture and pleasure to them both.

Lust and clarity intertwined. Softness, warmth, and fragments of sensation covered the bed. Yin Jiuruo heard Fu Qing hoarsely calling “Xiao Jiu” over and over, as if she were a precious, fragile jade.

It was truly warm—so warm it made one never want to lose it for all eternity. At this moment, she understood the feeling of warmth more than ever before. Perhaps because she had tasted warmth, she clearly understood what coldness was. If she were to lose this warmth, she might cry out in fear.

Suddenly, a crisp, loud bird cry pierced the clouds, and the silent night sky exploded.

“Fu Qing, are those lanterns? So beautiful… I wonder if lanterns made of snow are even prettier,” Yin Jiuruo’s hazy eyes were lit up, but she was groggy, reacting purely on instinct.

“They are beautiful. We will go see the snow lanterns in the future,” Fu Qing’s voice was as ethereal as the wind.

“We must go see them…” Yin Jiuruo guessed the recent passion had exhausted her; she was growing sleepier and sleepier, so tired she couldn’t move.

“Good,” Fu Qing’s slender eyes were flushed crimson, her soft voice moving and tender.

The two remained in an intimate, lingering embrace.

Until a freezing pain exploded violently from her heart.

Yin Jiuruo’s brow furrowed slightly, unable to comprehend what was happening. She looked down. A sharp sword, shimmering with clear light, had pierced through her wedding robe and into her heart. Fresh blood drenched the blade.

It was the Chishuang Sword.

Fu Qing gazed at Yin Jiuruo, her look tender and affectionate, a posture of indifferent, beautiful grace. It was as if the two were still a pair of lingering newlyweds.

Why?

Yin Jiuruo looked at the cold, stunning woman in her bridal red in disbelief, fresh crimson spilling from the corner of her mouth.

“Master, why are you killing me?”

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