The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 29.2

The Soul-Binding Lamp, with its flickering ghostly flame, hung from the back of the chair. Fu Qing pushed Yin Jiuruo, walking slowly through various parts of the Canglan Sect. The woman did not hold an umbrella; her white robes fluttered like silken brocade, and through her spiritual power alone, she warded off the chill, letting not a single snowflake touch her clothes.

The disciples of the Canglan Sect were initially busy either practicing their lessons or standing duty to earn spiritual stones and contribution points. Amidst the drifting heavy snow, they saw Fu Qing who rarely left Hexue Peak with her hair loose and adorned with flowers, her face veiled in thin gauze. Her vestments were as clean as lotus petals as she passed by, pushing the wheelchair as if taking a leisurely stroll through a garden.

The snow was so heavy that they could only see the vague silhouette of a person sitting in the wheelchair. Fu Qing occasionally leaned down to speak intimately with that person, but the individual remained cold and indifferent, not uttering a word.

“Who is that? To have the Sovereign personally push the wheelchair, and still look so sullen and arrogant. Who does she think she is?”

“Wasn’t it said the Sovereign has been in seclusion for several months contemplating the Dao? Why would she suddenly appear?”

“Could it be Young Master Shen Cangli? I heard the Young Master sent many things to the Sovereign, but she seemed very distant,” a curious onlooker stopped their sword in mid-air, letting the frost freeze the blade’s edge.

“Wow, don’t spread rumors. Hasn’t their relationship always been stable? Besides, Young Master Shen doesn’t need a wheelchair, does she? Could it be some new way of practicing?”

“Pfft, maybe it’s a way to lull the enemy into a false sense of security. Remember when the Sovereign lowered herself to marry Junior Sister Jiuruo… that wretch? Didn’t she temporarily break her engagement with Young Master Cangli? Their romance is truly a bitter one.”

A music-cultivator disciple near the edge of the training square finally saw the face of the person in the wheelchair after a gust of wind cleared the snow. A pale, weak body, a melancholy temperament, and a pair of affectionate peach-blossom eyes whose tenderness was diminished by the dark red patterns on her face, making her look sinister and strange.

“Is that… Junior Sister Jiuruo? Has she risen from the dead, or are our eyes playing tricks on us?” This disciple had seen Yin Jiuruo play the Bixie zither before and had a strong impression of her appearance.

But that day, Yin Jiuruo had been suspended from the Dragon-Coiled Pillar, bleeding as if pierced by ten thousand arrows to open the ancient array. Afterward… the blood-soaked girl’s soul had been utterly extinguished, leaving only a broken husk behind. They had all speculated that Yin Jiuruo wouldn’t even be able to enter reincarnation. How could such a miracle as rising from the dead happen?

On the training square, the disciples who recognized Yin Jiuruo broke into fervent discussion, constantly guessing if the Sovereign had used some forbidden art forbidden by Heaven and Earth to snatch her back from King Yama’s hands.

“Hey, could it be that the Sovereign is so cold to Young Master Shen all because of Junior Sister Jiuruo? Can the wedding even happen now?”

An audacious, rebellious thought formed in everyone’s minds, but due to the hierarchy of status, no one dared to speak it aloud in public.

The Sect Leader of the Canglan Sect had just finished a meeting at the Abandoned Firmament Hall and came out to inspect the disciples’ progress when he saw this scene. His spirit was profoundly shaken. Ignoring protocol, he blocked Fu Qing’s path. After a quick bow, he asked in a state of uncharacteristic agitation:

“Venerable One, what is the meaning of this? This wretch’s soul had already dispersed. Forcing a forbidden soul-summoning ritual will invite Heavenly Punishment.”

“This Sovereign shall bear the punishment alone; it will not involve the Canglan Sect.” Fu Qing adjusted her silver hair ribbon, her hand steadily protecting the Soul-Binding Lamp.

The Sect Leader looked at Yin Jiuruo’s drowsy, almost indifferent expression, and felt both angry and anxious.

“Venerable One, why go to such lengths? This wretch shows not a shred of gratitude. Moreover, you and Shen—”

He couldn’t finish. Firstly, because Fu Qing pushed Yin Jiuruo away as if no one else existed, and secondly, because the Sovereign had always been cold and followed her own path, never seeking anyone’s opinion on what she intended to do. In other words, no matter how much they said, Fu Qing wouldn’t listen to a single word.

He simply didn’t understand. If the Sovereign truly had feelings for Yin Jiuruo, how could she have been so ruthless as to orchestrate that deception and then pierce her heart without hesitation? And if she was heartless, why was she willing to go against Heaven, endure punishment, and forcibly keep someone with whom she no longer shared a fate by her side?

He truly could not comprehend the Sovereign’s mind, but he was deeply worried, sensing that something major was bound to happen.

In truth, when Fu Qing appeared a thousand years ago and entered the Canglan Sect, he knew clearly that she was a being from the upper realms undergoing a trial. He just wasn’t certain which one she was. Now that the Sovereign’s merits were complete, and she only lacked the experience of “emotion,” she should have just married Shen Cangli in peace. Instead, Yin Jiuruo had emerged to disrupt everything.

Behind them, the crowd harbored various thoughts, but the endless stream of gossip was blocked by the wind and snow. Fu Qing, her clothes unstained by dust, pushed Yin Jiuruo straight up the mountain.

“If the Soul-Binding Lamp is shattered, will there be no Heavenly Punishment?” Yin Jiuruo looked sideways at the parasol flower trapped within the lamp. Those were the trees she had planted herself; the blossoms carried her aura and could naturally be used for soul-summoning.

“The Heavenly Dao is not so easily deceived. Since I dared to do it, I dare to receive the punishment.” Fu Qing’s expression was calm, showing no emotional fluctuation regarding the impending tribulation.

Passing through the herb garden, the house where Chong You was recovering came into view. Yin Jiuruo said plainly:

“I want to speak with Senior Sister Chong You alone. You should head back.”

Fu Qing’s fingertips on the wheelchair pressed so hard they turned white. Her ethereal, cold features hid a suppressed, unbearable anxiety. She took the Soul-Binding Lamp into her hand and pressed her lips together. “Fine. Do not be too long… I will wait for you outside.”

Yin Jiuruo did not answer. She knocked twice and wheeled herself into the room.

The room was simple: a bed, a desk, a screen, and a dressing table. A few elegant orchids were in a vase, yet they couldn’t mask the pervasive bitter smell of medicine.

Hearing the movement, Chong You looked up and saw Yin Jiuruo’s quiet, lonely eyes. Her beautiful, thin body trembled with excitement. “Jiuruo… is it you?”

Yin Jiuruo sensed that Chong You was completely devoid of spiritual power and immediately choked up. “Senior Sister, it’s me. I didn’t die.”

“But that day… they all said you were reduced to ash,” Chong You’s body shook, yet she still smiled tenderly. “Come closer, let me look at you.”

Yin Jiuruo wheeled herself over. Chong You took her hand and shook her head. “Why are your hands so cold? Did the Venerable One force you back to life?”

She didn’t know if the word “save” was accurate, but having heard from Feng Qi that the Sovereign had taken Jiuruo’s body and placed it in a cold jade ice coffin, she knew this day would come.

“Senior Sister, actually, I am of the Demon Race,” Yin Jiuruo didn’t want to mention Fu Qing, so she spoke candidly to Chong You.

“I should have thought of it sooner. Your blood could counter the demonic energy from the Outer Lands; it was bound to have ties to the Demon Race,” Chong You coughed lightly. “Don’t you want to go home? This Canglan Sect is but a dead land for both you and me.”

Yin Jiuruo’s heart jolted, her expression desolate and weary. “Senior Sister, let’s not speak of that yet.”

She gripped Chong You’s hand and used spiritual sea transmission to teach her the Demon Race’s cultivation technique. “Senior Sister, this technique focuses on ‘rebirth through destruction.’ Since you are currently without spiritual power, it is the perfect time to practice it.”

She had specifically asked the three uncles about this; they said that because of the Demon Race’s unique constitution, they were often left as only souls after tribulations, so they developed this technique.

“Fine, I will try,” Chong You accepted it without hesitation, knowing their time together was limited. “Jiuruo, shall I go beg the Sovereign to let you go?”

Hearing this, Yin Jiuruo slowly shook her head. Fu Qing was willing to endure Heavenly Punishment to summon her soul back; why would she let her go for a single request from Chong You? The Way of Emotionless—a heart for all beings, a heart for no one.

“Senior Sister, doing that will only bring trouble upon you. Daoist Sovereign Changfan may have compassion, but it will never be for me.”

“Jiuruo, I am a cripple now. Once I recover, I will leave the Canglan Sect. This was never my home to begin with; what do I have to fear now?”

“Senior Sister, where will you go?”

“The world is vast; home is wherever I am,” Chong You saw the sorrow in Yin Jiuruo’s eyes and hurried to comfort her. “Don’t worry. No matter where I am, I will never lose touch with you.”

“Senior Sister, I…” Yin Jiuruo shook her head. She could barely protect herself; how could she offer protection or promises to Chong You? “I will miss you very much.”

Chong You smiled, then called out loudly: “Venerable One, may you enter for a word?”

A moment later, Fu Qing pushed the door open. Behind her was a vast, distant wind. Her white robes fluttered, glowing with a faint cold light. “What is it?”

“Venerable One, Jiuruo does not belong to the Canglan Sect.”

“This Sovereign knows,” Fu Qing’s soft gaze fell on Yin Jiuruo. “She will leave with this Sovereign, no matter where we go.”

“But she does not belong to you either,” Chong You said clearly, waiting for Fu Qing’s answer.

Outside the window, sunlight spread through the glowing mist. Fu Qing—dignified, noble, and proud—gazed quietly at Chong You and shook her head slightly.

“This Sovereign has established a marriage bond with her.”

“But the Sect Leader told me you only used an illusion,” Chong You looked at Yin Jiuruo with pity. “You never established the True Marriage Law with Jiuruo. Even if you did, it wasn’t complete.”

The consistently calm, noble, and stainless Daoist Sovereign spoke words of apology for the first time. “I will compensate Xiao Jiu.”

She stepped forward to take Yin Jiuruo away. As she pushed the wheelchair to the door, she heard Chong You’s cold question.

“Venerable One, you want to compensate her, but what if Junior Sister Jiuruo doesn’t want it? What will you do then?”

Having said her piece, Chong You leaned against the bed, watching from a distance as the woman adored by the entire cultivation world—dressed in simple robes, her black hair flowing over her shoulders, cold as a frozen pool—departed.

Fu Qing seemed to have forgotten to use her spiritual energy to block the wind and snow. In the biting gale, her robes fluttered and her aura was transcendent, yet she had the lost air of someone who had misplaced their soul.

Perhaps I’m just over-interpreting, Chong You thought with a cold smile. At least before this, she never would have imagined that the detached and noble Sovereign would forcibly keep Yin Jiuruo against her will.

“Venerable One, why do you not answer me?”

Fu Qing’s eyes were dark and unreadable. She turned back to Chong You. “Xiao Jiu will not ‘not want’ this Sovereign.”

The icy moon in the sky, always bright and clear, had always looked upon all things with the same indifference. Yet one day, it finally became stained by the mortal world, falling into the abyss just to grasp onto something. Chong You leaned back and laughed softly at Fu Qing’s current panic.

The two returned along the path they came. The tracks of the wheelchair in the snow had already been covered. Everything was silent, save for the wind whistling through ancient trees.

Yin Jiuruo stared ahead, expecting Fu Qing to say something. But as they walked for a long time, the woman remained silent and composed. She couldn’t see Fu Qing’s face, only sense that the woman behind her was incredibly calm—uncannily so. It was as if she were enduring something with all her might; the fewer signs she showed, the more she was suppressing—endless endurance and restraint.

In the snow, someone approached on a sword, carrying a large bundle. After flying past, they inexplicably flew back. When the person landed, Yin Jiuruo saw it was Feng Qi. The bundle in her arms appeared to be medicinal herbs for Senior Sister Chong You, smelling of the same bitter scent she had just encountered.

“Jiuruo,” Feng Qi stepped forward, then stopped at a middling distance. “Is it you?”

She looked at Fu Qing and immediately realized the Sovereign must have done something to bring back the Yin Jiuruo whose soul shouldn’t have been able to return. No wonder the Sovereign wouldn’t let me take the body that day. Had she already decided by then?

Yin Jiuruo gave a soft “Mhm” in response. She studied Feng Qi—stranger and yet familiar. Friend, master, lover—all were illusions granted to her by Fu Qing. Fu Qing, sitting on her high seat, had toyed with the chessboard at will, resulting in her lonely and pathetic puppet life.

“You… you’ve already seen Senior Sister Chong You? I was just about to deliver her medicine,” Feng Qi stammered, unsure of how to face Yin Jiuruo. “Jiuruo, can I come see you later? I have so much to say to you. Can you give me a chance?”

Without any pause, Yin Jiuruo slightly turned her weak wrists and let out a long breath, as if trying to rein in a dangerous state of mind. “No need. Let us just part ways here. Take good care of Senior Sister, but do not disturb her.”

She knew in her heart that Senior Sister Chong You did not want to see Feng Qi. It was just that the Senior Sister, having lost all her cultivation, was—like her—meat on someone else’s cutting board.

“I would take care of her even if you didn’t say so. Why call it a disturbance?”

Yin Jiuruo’s lips curled into a smile. She found both Fu Qing and Feng Qi amusing in their love for self-deception. “You both know the truth in your hearts, don’t you?”

Feng Qi stood frozen at the expected answer as Fu Qing and Yin Jiuruo gradually moved away. She looked back and saw Fu Qing’s long lashes trembling. For a moment, she didn’t understand why Fu Qing looked so melancholy. As the two grew further away, a chill hit her heart.

In truth, Fu Qing and she were no different in front of Yin Jiuruo. They had both been “parted ways” with.

“What do you want for dinner?” Fu Qing stopped beneath a lush ancient tree and fed Yin Jiuruo a few sips of warm medicinal drink.

Despite the Ruomu wheelchair warding off the cold, Yin Jiuruo’s expression was lukewarm. Her delicate face was as pale as jade hidden by snow, and her peach-blossom eyes were silent and deep.

“Whatever. You’re making it anyway. It’s not like it will be any different.”

Fu Qing lowered her eyes, a dark emotion surrounding her. She understood Yin Jiuruo’s meaning. Everything tasted the same; as long as Fu Qing made it, Yin Jiuruo found it like chewing wax, impossible to swallow.

“In a few days, when you feel better, what do you want to do?” The woman continued to look at Yin Jiuruo with patience. “Do you want to come with me to see your little animals? They are now…”

“No need. Locking me in a room without needing to care about external things or seeing outsiders is exactly your goal, isn’t it?”

Fu Qing’s voice was strained; she didn’t know what to say.

Beneath the ancient tree, a disciple in moon-white robes came running up, breathless. After a respectful bow, he looked up with eyes full of awe and adoration, reporting haltingly:

“Venerable One outside the mountain gate, a girl has arrived. She has a white tail and her ears are on top of her head.”

“Speak slowly.”

Where Fu Qing stood, the spiritual energy was much denser than elsewhere. The disciple caught his breath and rephrased:

“The girl introduced herself as A-Yin. She said she specifically came to our Canglan Sect to find her fiancée. She said if we don’t hand the person over, she’ll stay right there and never leave.”

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