The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 28.1

Frost filled the courtyard. The Chishuang Sword had transformed into a solitary lantern held in Fu Qing’s hand. Her hair at the temples was damp with melted snow, and her entire being seemed shrouded in a lonely, ruthless persistence.

Hearing Fu Qing’s solemn and cold voice, Yin Jiuruo’s spirit wavered. Her soul grew dimmer and more transparent, as if it might vanish at any moment.

“Venerable One, these are the betrothal gifts from the Ruyi Sect…” The crane boy, directing the black bear to carry piles of worldly treasures, was startled by the scene. He hurriedly placed the gifts down and flapped his wings to fly away. He didn’t care if Fu Qing heard him; only the wingless mechanical bear was left staggering in the snow, trying its best to minimize its presence.

Seeing this, the woman in high-minded, snowy robes—her sharp phoenix eyes flickering with burning flames—constantly tapped her slender fingertips to form seals. Out of the void, she conjured a Soul-Binding Heart Lamp, stabilizing Yin Jiuruo’s soul.

Yin Jiuruo, who could still sense the Reincarnation Prison moments ago, felt the connection completely severed as the heart lamp’s light intensified. No matter how hard she struggled, she was trapped here. She released the power of Decay, trying to turn the heart lamp into the past—to make it rot and become non-existent.

However, there was a vast chasm between her cultivation and Fu Qing’s. Using such a head-on method could not budge the holy, bright Soul-Binding Heart Lamp. It pinned her soul to the world of the living, unshakeable.

Fu Qing simply gazed at her quietly, her appearance dignified and noble, her eyes devoid of joy or sorrow. Her entire demeanor exuded a calm that was both absent-minded and yet strategically masterful. It was like a master watching a fish in a pond struggle for its life, only to find all effort futile.

Deep in the night, the icy lake of Hexue Peak was silent. Linyue Residence cast a long shadow under the moonlight. The light of the heart lamp flickered, and withered parasol flowers carpeted the ground. Yin Jiuruo struggled for a long time, staring at Fu Qing with reddened eyes, before finally becoming indifferent.

How wonderful. Dragged back once again to this cage named “Lies.” Truly wonderful.

Why wouldn’t this woman let it go? She already had a match made in heaven, a marriage blessed by all. Why must she hold onto Yin Jiuruo?

“Xiao Jiu, who is A-Yin?”

“What does it have to do with you?”

“I am your wife. How can it not concern me?”

“My wife?”

Yin Jiuruo looked at the magnificent and expensive betrothal gifts on the ground, feeling only that Fu Qing possessed an unknown cruelty. The high-and-mighty, detached Daoist Sovereign did not understand love. Yet she could utilize love, turning it into an eternal, poisoned blade to pierce a person’s heart.

“You are finally to be wed to Young Master Shen—a happy ending for lovers. Congratulations,” Yin Jiuruo said woodenly, staring straight ahead.

She didn’t want to beg or explode in rage; it would be useless. Weeping and making a scene only works on those who love you. And Fu Qing—Fu Qing was a Buddha without emotion or desire. No matter how you prayed or bowed, you would only receive a heartless gaze.

Yin Jiuruo had thought she would have much to say upon seeing Fu Qing, but it turned out her shattered heart held only silence. In truth, she was a person who loved bustle and warmth, yet she was also afraid that after the noise, only loneliness would remain. But when this person reached out to her back then, she had gone without hesitation.

It was truly laughable. Someone once told her that the beautiful days in a person’s life are limited—once they are used up, they are gone. She had scoffed at it then, thinking that one only needed to grasp them tightly. It turned out what she grasped was both the most beautiful days and the grandest of lies.

Don’t take it seriously. Just treat it as a nightmare.

Yin Jiuruo closed her eyes and remained silent, like a withered leaf burned to ash. Fu Qing’s eyes were deep, her loose long hair dancing in the flickering lamplight. She glanced at the Linked Branches hairpin again, her voice filled with a sense of detachment and loss of control.

“The Linked Branches hairpin in your hand—were you going to give it to her?”

“Mhm.”

A flash of severity crossed Fu Qing’s dark phoenix eyes. “You should know what Linked Branches represent.”

“I know perfectly well,” Yin Jiuruo sneered.

The woman’s fingers clenched, her pale tips almost sinking into her smooth, white palm. “Then how could you give it to another?”

“Why not? She and I are a legitimate match. Perhaps we would have been married in a few days.”

“This Sovereign does not permit it. Since you and I have already wed, through ten thousand worlds and a thousand lives, I am your wife. How can you have further entanglements with others?”

Yin Jiuruo breathed steadily, her eyes closed coldly. “Daoist Sovereign Changfan, don’t you find it laughable to say such things?”

Suddenly, a cool, soft head of hair carrying the familiar sweet fragrance fell against Yin Jiuruo’s cheek and collarbone. She opened her eyes to find Fu Qing extremely close, her bare hand gently stroking her hair.

She grew alert and asked with hate, “Do you want to erase my memory again?”

The woman sighed softly and shook her head. “Your soul is damaged. If I forcibly erase your memory, you would lose two souls and three spirits, becoming an idiot. This Sovereign naturally will not do such a thing now.”

“If I were an idiot, wouldn’t it be easier for you to manipulate me?” Yin Jiuruo lowered her head and laughed. “Ah, that’s right. What you all want is the blood of a person in despair. Idiots don’t feel despair.”

“Xiao Jiu, I do not wish to hurt you,” Fu Qing carefully touched Yin Jiuruo’s soul form, her eyes rippling with water-like tenderness and pleasure. “Be good. Come home with me. Do not have any more dealings with others, alright?”

Yin Jiuruo couldn’t help but smile—laughing and weeping like a manic actor to hide the scars in her heart. Finally, she only said, “Erase the memory to erase the harm. The Daoist Sovereign’s methods are profound; I bow in admiration.”

She quietly felt the state of her soul, knowing it wasn’t time yet. She had to lie low and wait for her chance.

“Xiao Jiu,” Fu Qing said as she closed the doors and windows to block out the increasingly violent snowstorm. “Act upon things but be not acted upon by them; hold thoughts but be not held by them. The appearances of the red dust are but passing clouds. Why be so obsessed?”

To a cultivator, even if one touched upon love, one must never be submerged in it. Yin Jiuruo’s behavior caused Fu Qing deep concern.

Yin Jiuruo heard the message: Fu Qing was telling her to let go. Let go of the hate, let go of the resentment, erase the memory, erase the trouble—so she could continue to be a disciple of the Canglan Sect, continue to be Fu Qing’s dog.

The calculation was perfect. In Fu Qing’s eyes, she was likely just a useful ant—too good to throw away. So, while marrying and ascending, she would also keep Yin Jiuruo firmly in her palm.

It turned out the feeling of being at someone’s mercy was this bad. What was worse was that she had once truly admired and loved this person.

“Why be obsessed?” Yin Jiuruo’s eyes, which had just begun to heal, turned a faint red, looking manic, desperate, and pathetic.

What a line: Why be obsessed? The hunter who sets a massive trap watches the prey’s death with satisfaction and leaves gracefully, leaving the prey deep in the mire, unable to free even its soul. Why did Fu Qing have compassion for all living beings, yet was so cruel only to her?

“Xiao Jiu, with such obsession, this Sovereign worries that you will suffer a deviation in your future cultivation.”

“You knew I was a demon long ago, didn’t you? I am exactly that kind of evil thing. What are you still delusional about?” Although it was a question, Yin Jiuruo’s tone was certain and filled with mockery.

“This Sovereign is near-omniscient; naturally I knew,” Fu Qing paused, her tone slightly darker. “I only wanted to bring you home, back to Hexue Peak.”

“Then what do I have to fear from a deviation? Besides, gods and demons have never been compatible since ancient times. You, a member of the immortal sects, are keeping a demon. Aren’t you afraid of the world’s gossip if this gets out?”

“Why should this Sovereign care for others?” Fu Qing’s expression remained composed, her white robes catching the delicate light of the heart lamp. “Xiao Jiu, this Sovereign does not intend to keep you as a pet. I only want your companionship by my side. I am your wife; naturally, I will be with you every moment.”

“Capturing the soul of a dead person, limiting their freedom—is that not keeping a pet? The Daoist Sovereign calls this companionship; don’t you find it ridiculous?”

“Xiao Jiu, if you do not seek death, this Sovereign will naturally give you total freedom.”

“If even death is not free, what freedom can there be?”

Fu Qing’s expression darkened, her eyes flickering with a dangerous light. She studied Yin Jiuruo for a long time. In those peach-blossom eyes that were once bright and filled with adoration for her, there was now only a barren wasteland, as empty as a desert. A strange sting arose in the woman’s heart. Her fingers trembled, and her celestial face, filled with compassion for all beings, seemed tainted by greed and obsession.

She had to forcibly suppress the urge to erase Yin Jiuruo’s memory right then and there. Instead, she picked up the Linked Branches hairpin, closed the box, and placed it in the lowest drawer of the cabinet—a feeling of “out of sight, out of mind.”

Once the cabinet was locked, her cold features regained their usual solemn beauty. Only her pale, smooth fingers clutched so tightly they turned an agonizing shade of blue, as if she were resisting something.

“Xiao Jiu, come next New Year, this Sovereign will certainly take you to the Far North to see the snow lanterns. Afterward, whatever you want to do, just tell me, and I will help you achieve it.”

Yin Jiuruo sneered, her lips curling in mockery. “Will next year’s lanterns still be this year’s snow?”

Fu Qing was momentarily stunned, her brow furrowing slightly. She remained silent for a long time. “If I am with you, they will be the same lanterns.”

“To me, they are not,” Yin Jiuruo said seriously. “A flower does not bloom twice.”

The sound of a spiritual bird landing on the snow came from outside Hexue Peak. Someone was trying to enter the barrier. Fu Qing placed the Soul-Binding Heart Lamp on the high altar of the ice coffin. She lit all the lamps in the room and raised the room temperature with the fire from rare wood.

“Be good, Xiao Jiu. I will return soon. With the lamps lit, do not fear the dark.”

Yin Jiuruo watched her calmly. After Fu Qing finished these meticulous tasks, Yin Jiuruo gave a sneer as a response, causing the woman to pause, a few flashes of inexplicable panic appearing in her eyes.

“Wait for me obediently. From now on, I will always stay with you.”

Yin Jiuruo responded with indifference.

When she left, the woman’s gaze lingered on Yin Jiuruo with an unshakeable attachment. It took a long time before she remembered to carefully close the door. Once she turned around, the tender smile in her eyes vanished completely, replaced by a rippleless face meeting the falling night snow. She temporarily opened the barrier to allow Shen Cangli through without injury.

“Changfan, I was traveling the Nine Provinces and passed through Penglai. I received some Heart-Clearing Pills from the Immortal Lord that can cleanse the spirit and calm the mind. I came specifically to give them to you.”

It was Shen Cangli’s voice—high-spirited and filled with an unhideable joy.

“My thanks, Young Master Shen,” Fu Qing took the jade vial and immediately presented two vials of pills she had refined herself. Her expression was calm, yet carried a hint of distraction. “It is late. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow?”

“Changfan, the Qixi Festival is coming soon in the mortal world. I… I wanted to invite you to go for a walk together, to see the local customs and people,” Shen Cangli’s voice grew shy and soft. “I heard that when you were training in the mortal world, you went to many places and made many friends. I can accompany you back to catch up with them. Also, the Qixi Festival has the tradition of releasing river lanterns; we can experience that too.”

Fu Qing was somewhat absent-minded. The Soul-Binding Lamp she had just conjured using forbidden arts was not yet mature or stable. If the flame went out, the soul-summoning ritual would fail, and the success rate of a second attempt would be extremely low. She would not allow that to happen; she would protect Xiao Jiu, spare her from suffering, and stay by her side.

Shen Cangli rambled on until the woman, with deep eyes, suddenly snapped back as if realizing something.

“Releasing river lanterns on the Qixi Festival?”

“Mhm. They say you can make various styles of river lanterns yourself and place a slip of paper with a wish inside the wick. The River God will help realize it.” Shen Cangli scratched her head in embarrassment; they were cultivators, yet she was speaking of such superstitions.

“Are river lanterns… more beautiful than snow lanterns?” Fu Qing looked down, a clear and bewildered sadness in her voice.

River lanterns. She had once watched them with Yin Jiuruo. If they watched them again, would that count as a flower blooming twice?

Confused by the sudden question, Shen Cangli thought for a while. “I don’t know. If you like them, I can accompany you to see them every year. I remember the Qixi Festival in Jimo County, Wujiang Province, is very grand.”

Shen Cangli was prepared to give a long lecture on the customs of various regions to show off her extensive experience, but Fu Qing finished her sentence for her.

“Changfan, how do you know about the Qixi Festival in Jimo County? That’s a remote place; outsiders rarely go there.”

“I was there once for a long time—long enough that it felt like a lifetime,” Fu Qing murmured with lowered eyes, more to herself than to the other.

“What did you say?” Shen Cangli didn’t hear clearly and wanted her to repeat it.

The woman’s detached face seemed to surface a smile—a mixture of obscurity and allure that left Shen Cangli dazed, not even noticing when Fu Qing left the courtyard and returned to her room.

Left standing alone in the cold, snowy courtyard under the solitary moon, Shen Cangli waved toward Fu Qing, thinking that this time she would be able to learn more about Fu Qing’s past. She would surely make up for the hundreds of years they had missed. Even after ascending as an Upper God, she would be Fu Qing’s envied Dao companion.

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