The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 28.2

Inside Linyue Residence, a dark decaying power swirled around Yin Jiuruo. Her face was pale, her long lashes cast down, and her red lips were as vivid as blood—eerily and beautifully ghost-like.

With a wave of her hand, Fu Qing dispersed all the decaying power, her spiritual energy cleansing the room and washing the world.

“Xiao Jiu, do not waste your effort. You cannot break the restriction this Sovereign has set.” The woman paused, her voice carrying a slight mournful questioning. “Why do you still want to escape? Is it not good for me to stay with you forever?”

Yin Jiuruo ignored her, sitting cross-legged and beginning to gather the power of Decay once more. However, a flash of golden light appeared. Golden chains carrying Fu Qing’s aura bound Yin Jiuruo tightly from top to bottom.

As soon as she moved, her soul felt a sensation like skin-on-skin suction moist, delicate, and intoxicatingly soft.

“This Sovereign said that if you are obedient, you shall have freedom.”

After struggling for a long time, Yin Jiuruo was breathless, her body numb. She had to lie back on the bed to rest. She caught a glimpse of Fu Qing’s flushed profile her eyes like water, her cold beauty beyond compare.

She suddenly understood: these were Soul Chains. Fu Qing had split a wisp of her own soul into chains, binding them directly to Yin Jiuruo’s soul without any barrier. Every movement would directly stimulate the soul.

To escape, Fu Qing would have to be completely extinguished in form and spirit; otherwise, there was no eternal flight.

“You cannot keep me bound forever,” Yin Jiuruo said, struggling to create distance between herself and the chains, only to find them tightening further.

“As long as you wish to flee, this Sovereign shall keep you locked,” Fu Qing replied, her features cold and ruthless. She gripped the other end of the chain firmly, looking like a deity strictly upholding precepts, yet also like a demon fully tainted by obsession.

“What do you intend by keeping me locked? Our fate has ended. We are worse than enemies.”

At the contact with the coldness in Yin Jiuruo’s eyes, Fu Qing inexplicably remembered the tender way the girl had called out “A-Yin.” A dense, moist, and dark stinging pain crawled up from her heart. She leaned down close to Yin Jiuruo, her face—as bright as a frost-covered moon—stained with a faint flush. Her red lips were moist, looking like cherries soaked in clear water, a seductive spring color.

“I will be your wife. I am yours to command.”

“So you can kill me again on our wedding night? My blood is too useful; you cannot bear to part with it,” Yin Jiuruo curled her lips. “Give me back the Linked Branches hairpin.”

Fu Qing’s gaze turned cold and heavy. “You are still thinking of that A-Yin?”

“So what if I am? She and I were on a blind date today. That was a gift meant for her.”

“You mean this Sovereign has no right to take that hairpin?” At the words “blind date,” an undercurrent surged in Fu Qing’s heart, and her soul tightened the chains on Yin Jiuruo.

Yin Jiuruo turned her face away, mocking, “Does the Daoist Sovereign lack even that much self-awareness?”

As they confronted each other, the door was knocked upon again. The crane boy’s strained voice came through. “Venerable One… the black bear, the penguin, and I… we wish to see the Little Master.”

A look of endurance crossed Fu Qing’s brow. Her pale pinky finger trembled slightly, but she still considerately covered Yin Jiuruo with a feather quilt. The golden chains were hidden beneath her spotless white robes; the woman looked solemn and dignified, but beneath the surface was extreme restraint and forced submission.

After a few moments, the crane boy carefully pushed the door open, stepping aside to let the bear and penguin in, carrying Tiaocao tea. “Venerable One, this is the tea the Little Master used to buy for you. The night is cold and the dew is heavy; please drink a cup with the Little Master to warm yourselves.”

The crane knew well that cultivators do not fear the cold; it brought the tea merely to mediate. In their eyes, the Sovereign and the Little Master had always lived in harmony; they didn’t understand why, one day, everything changed. Mechanical beings are simple and pure; how could they know the shifting sands of the human heart?

The black bear presented a vial of pure black pills. “Venerable One, the ‘Oblivion’ you asked for—”

Fu Qing cut the bear off with a soft “Mhm,” took the glass cup, and took a sip. It didn’t taste like it used to. The bear’s beady eyes darted around, and a plump white insect hopped from its head.

Xiao Huo flew toward Yin Jiuruo’s embrace, but it passed straight through its master and landed on the pillow. The insect was stunned; unable to touch Yin Jiuruo, it immediately began to wail, soaking the clean pillow.

“Xiao Huo,” Yin Jiuruo’s nose stung, and tears filled her eyes, though she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Hearing her voice, Xiao Huo cried even harder. It was hard to say if it was good or bad that a firefly, granted longevity and intelligence by Fu Qing, now understood parting and death.

The penguin waddled forward. “Venerable One, you can surely heal the Little Master, right?” The crane and the bear also looked at Fu Qing expectantly.

“I will. This Sovereign will make Xiao Jiu return to how she was before,” Fu Qing gripped the chains tightly—so tightly that Yin Jiuruo let out a muffled groan.

“Hooray!” the three mechanical beings cheered. Seeing the two seemingly getting along, they felt relieved and returned to their quarters to check their parts and apply oil.

Silence returned to the room. Fu Qing performed a spell to solidify Yin Jiuruo’s soul and brought the warm Tiaocao tea to her lips. “Xiao Jiu, drink some. It will make you feel better.”

Yin Jiuruo stared at her coldly. “Give me back the hairpin.”

The cup touched her lips, but she remained unmoved. Fu Qing looked down at her, the memory of Yin Jiuruo’s tender gaze toward that “A-Yin” flashing through her mind. A tide of lost control suddenly submerged the woman. She yanked the soul chains, forcing Yin Jiuruo to look up.

Her crimson lips, holding the tea, pressed against the cold lips of the soul. The woman’s eyes were closed, her long lashes trembling violently, and her jade-white cheeks were flushed with a sickly red. Although Fu Qing was the dominant, possessive one, after their lips met, it was she whose eyes held tears and whose breath became increasingly ragged, looking like a delicate woman unable to endure the sensation.

After a long while, the locked spirits finally loosened. The corners of Fu Qing’s eyes were moist with a rouge-colored light, and her broken, bleeding red lips moved as her breathing remained erratic. Yin Jiuruo watched expressionlessly as the woman wiped the blood from her lips, suddenly feeling that Fu Qing was more pathetic than herself. The world-renowned Daoist Sovereign was secretly binding her dead disciple to do such things. How sanctimonious.

With two thuds, a fat insect hopped onto the windowsill—it was Xiao Huo, having returned. It hopped around, gesturing that it wanted to sleep with Yin Jiuruo. Seeing it refuse to leave, Fu Qing took some mulberry leaves for Xiao Huo to sleep on.

Perhaps sensing her own unstable state of mind, Fu Qing covered her lips and instructed plainly, “Xiao Jiu, rest well tonight.”

Yin Jiuruo watched Fu Qing take the medicine the bear had brought. Although the room was brightly lit, the bitterness in her heart surfaced. She suddenly felt life was meaningless. The only ones who cared for her in this world were this insect and the three mechanical beings.

She had been too naive, thinking a beautiful master would appear just as she was in trouble. They shared a bed but had different dreams, appearing close but distant in heart. It was no wonder; Yin Jiuruo had an unknown identity and weak strength—she was nearly useless. She should have understood this long ago. But she had been greedy for joy, mistaking a calculated plan for deep affection. This ending was her own doing.

“The three demons who sheltered you in the Reincarnation Prison—this Sovereign will send a grand gift to thank them,” Fu Qing said, her mind finally stabilizing after the medicine as she lay down beside Yin Jiuruo.

“No need. I’m not close to them,” Yin Jiuruo closed her eyes coldly, fearing the Kings might act impulsively if they knew she had been taken back.

Fu Qing was surprised. “You mean I shouldn’t send gifts?”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Daoist Sovereign. They cannot accept your gifts.”

“Xiao Jiu, you…” The woman’s breath caught; for some reason, she disliked Yin Jiuruo calling her “Daoist Sovereign.” It was as if they were strangers—utterly distant.

Due to the damage to her soul and the toll of the soul-summoning, Yin Jiuruo was exhausted and fell into a coma. Because of the golden soul chains, her condition was entirely within Fu Qing’s grasp. After repeatedly confirming Yin Jiuruo was asleep, the woman wrapped the chains around her own wrist. On her pale wrist, green veins were faintly visible; paired with the thin chains, it looked like a sign of unbearable rebellion within a life of abstinence.

The night passed quickly. Yin Jiuruo hadn’t expected to be unconscious for over ten days. When she sat up, she was dizzy and weak. Xiao Huo was on the eaves outside; hearing her, it hopped in and settled on a leaf to sleep.

In the room, the Soul-Binding Lamp flickered. Yin Jiuruo stared at it gloomily for a long time. She was still a soul and could do nothing. The soul chains restricted her; a long string of golden links trailed behind her, glinting coldly.

Following the chains, she staggered to the bath in Linyue Residence. Mist filled the air, and hot steam curled around the skin. She could vaguely see two intertwined female bodies. The water was smooth, the skin like jade, and the scene seductive. She saw the chain extend, tightly wrapping around the woman’s slender, bony wrist. As water flowed over it, it left suggestive red marks.

Yin Jiuruo met Fu Qing’s gaze in the pool. The woman’s eyes held a sense of distance and propriety dictated by her precepts. However, her jade-white skin had a faint luster, and beneath her thin gauze robes was a surging desire and allure. The gauze robes danced in the pale pink water. The woman’s silhouette was soft, the white curves rising and falling, her hand brushing over the other’s body.

That body was covered in scars, the one at the heart being the most gruesome. Yet under Fu Qing’s care, it showed signs of improvement. Yin Jiuruo, in soul form, watched coldly as Fu Qing bathed her body, attending to every detail before smoothing the hair, drying the water, and dressing it in new clothes. She looked very practiced, as if she had done it a thousand times.

Yin Jiuruo felt strange, not knowing whether to look or turn away. But she stood her ground, watching Fu Qing with a numb expression. She thought her body would have returned to dust by now; who knew it would be preserved so perfectly by Fu Qing? Just like the way she maintained her mechanical tools—meticulous and doting.

The abstinent Sovereign was actually a peerless actor, a dedicated puppeteer. When her most precious puppet shattered, she spent all her effort to piece it back together.

After the bath, Fu Qing was back in her clean snowy robes. Except for a suspicious flush on her cheeks.

“Since you are awake, this Sovereign will help you return to your body today,” her voice was cold as always. Yin Jiuruo wanted to mock her, but remembered she was bound by the soul chains.

“No need. This is fine. I’m dead; just burn my body and take the ashes back to Peach Blossom Town.” she laughed indifferently, satisfied to see Fu Qing’s face darken.

“Take them back to see Suige? Or is A-Yin waiting for you there?” The woman’s eyes were cold as she pulled Yin Jiuruo’s soul to her side. A gentle but cold power pushed Yin Jiuruo’s soul toward the warm body nourished by spiritual energy.

Pain made her instinctively resist. The strangeness of being out of her body made the soul and flesh fight each other. Soon, a familiar fragrance pressed close. The skin beneath the gauze brought a jade-like touch and a more intense mingling. It felt as if a crystalline, sweet liquid was helping the soul and body bond. In a daze, she could hear the sound of hair rubbing together, mixed with the woman’s soft breathing and the sound of flowing water.

“Xiao Jiu, do not leave,” she heard the woman’s obsessive whisper.

When Yin Jiuruo fully came to her senses, she found the bedding and Fu Qing’s robes were mostly wet. The woman’s face was like vermilion jade, and her eyes, cold as frost, were filled with endurance and resistance.

“You…” Yin Jiuruo was about to pull away when she saw the woman’s skin beneath the gauze was covered in shocking, ambiguous bruises. It was as if the golden chains bound Fu Qing, not her.

“Returning to the body will be inconvenient at first,” Fu Qing turned her face away, her soft lips covered in bite marks. She pulled the quilt to cover her body. “I will craft a wheelchair for you to move around.”

“You still intend to lock me with chains?”

“Xiao Jiu, your soul is unstable. It is better for it to be nourished by my own spirit.” Yin Jiuruo sneered; the Daoist Sovereign could truly explain her coercive behavior in such a high-sounding, insane, and hypocritical way.

The flush on the woman’s face faded, her eyes turning clear once more. She regained that holy, compassionate aura. Seeing the mockery in Yin Jiuruo’s eyes, Fu Qing lowered her lashes. “This Sovereign will refine some pills. Sleep for a while.”

Fu Qing half-closed the window and looked back at Yin Jiuruo. Her long hair covered her profile, and her eyes were half-lit. “I have set three layers of restrictions. No one can approach. Rest in peace.”

Meaning no one could find her here. Yin Jiuruo laughed softly. She was stiff and unable to move, yet Fu Qing still feared her escape. Truly meticulous.

“At noon, this Sovereign will prepare food and feed you.”

“Let the crane boy feed me,” Yin Jiuruo looked at the ceiling, her body like an ice cellar, hiding her desire to flee. Seeing the resistance in her eyes, Fu Qing left, saying plainly:

“This Sovereign will come on time.”

Yin Jiuruo saw that the courtyard was lit even during the day. The golden-grey light woven between the swaying leaves looked like a magnificent, eternal cage. She wondered how worried the three Kings were. Her heart felt like tattered white paper soaked in ice water. She could only sink into the cage, unable even to find release.

But thanks to the Demon Race’s constitution, she might have found a way to escape. However, her freedom was restricted, and she couldn’t find the necessary items.

Fu Qing was in the alchemy room, manipulating the Taiyin True Fire. She refined three kinds of pills. Soon, she extinguished the fire and went to the kitchen. The basket held fresh vegetables and river fish. Knowing Yin Jiuruo disliked fish, Fu Qing took the tenderest parts to make fish porridge, along with some light side dishes.

The aroma filled the air. As usual, the snow stopped in the afternoon, and a faint mist spread—just like every day before. It was as if nothing had changed.

As Fu Qing was lost in thought, the crane boy knocked softly. “Venerable One, the Little Master is making a lot of noise in her room. We cannot enter, but we are worried.”

With a thought, Fu Qing returned to the courtyard. From a distance, she saw Yin Jiuruo had fallen to the floor, her hair disheveled, trying to ram the cabinet that held the Soul-Binding Heart Lamp. If the lamp broke, the soul would disperse.

“Xiao Jiu, you still want to leave?” The white-robed Fu Qing’s eyes were dark, her voice cold. She walked in quickly, half-knelt, and gripped Yin Jiuruo’s chin. Her breath was like orchids, and her eyes swirled with a hint of dark desire. “Do you want to see that A-Yin so badly? Can even the soul chains not trap your heart?”

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