The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 3

Noticing a slight change in Fu Qing’s expression, Feng Qi quickly raised a hand to the sky, swearing as if making a vow:

“It’s mainly because Jiuruo needs to see her lover one last time. I’m completely innocent.”

“No, that’s not it,” Yin Jiuruo began to explain but then felt she might be overreacting. Perhaps Fu Qing didn’t even care.

After all, their connection was only due to the effects of the love poison two spiritual encounters where they had shared intimate and tender moments. If she made a big deal out of explaining, it might come across as unnecessary and presumptuous.

The more she thought about it, the more self-conscious she became. Yin Jiuruo stole a glance at Fu Qing, who stood there in pristine white feathers, her expression serene. She convinced herself she was overthinking this Daoist Venerable was clear-minded and detached, utterly unperturbed.

Yet, Yin Jiuruo couldn’t hold back. “Venerable Fu Qing, Sui Ge isn’t my love.”

But Fu Qing merely gave a faint nod, her voice cool and indifferent. “Such a relationship does warrant a meeting.” Feng Qi: “?”

Those who walk the path of cultivation are truly magnanimous, broad-minded.

Thus, in the newly rebuilt marketplace of Peach Blossom Town, a white-robed Daoist Venerable, holding a lantern with graceful poise, followed behind two shabbily dressed mortals, weaving through the bustling night crowd.

The scene was undeniably peculiar.

The warm glow from Fu Qing’s jade rabbit lantern enveloped the trio, casting a serene and comforting aura, while also drawing cautious glances from passersby.

A small horned spirit whispered to its companion, “Is she also from the Canglan Sect? But why is her robe white?”

“Ordinary disciples wear black, inner disciples wear moon-white, and the sect leader wears cyan. It seems only the Venerable One wears white.”

Hearing this, the questioning spirit trembled. It was said that the Canglan Sect’s Venerable was born of heaven, peerless in talent, her spirit refined to the pinnacle of the Dao of Emotionlessness. She subdued demons and monsters, showing compassion to all.

In this era of severed divine paths, she was the one most likely to ascend as the foremost under heaven.

“Why would Venerable Changfan come to a small place like Peach Blossom Town?” the spirit murmured, its voice hushed. Could it mean some great event was about to unfold in the Nine Provinces?

The Nine Provinces of the world Peach Blossom Town lay in the central North Ming Province, a hub of commerce with many travelers passing through.

Inhabited by humans, spirits, and minor demons, all with weak spiritual power and frail souls, the various races coexisted peacefully. The recent demon lord’s rampage was, in fact, a rare calamity not seen in centuries.

As the three made their way to the brothel, the sidelong glances around them grew more numerous.

Most of the chatter revolved around Fu Qing, how Venerable Changfan was immensely powerful, naturally aloof, a slayer of demons, and even had a well-matched fiancée.

Fu Qing had a fiancée?

For some reason, Yin Jiuruo’s heart dimmed, as if a gust of wind had extinguished a lantern.

Feeling the ache in her chest, she realized that in just this single day, she had already indulged in wishful thinking.

Noticing Yin Jiuruo’s gaze, Fu Qing naturally looked back, meeting a fair, youthful face with dark eyes shimmering with faint disappointment.

Some onlookers clicked their tongues, muttering, “That ugly freak has latched onto another beautiful immortal. Who knows what tricks she used.”

Others chimed in, “Exactly, with those blotches on her face, she dares to scare people. Doesn’t she worry about causing a scene? Last time, she made several children cry.”

Fu Qing frowned, casting a brief glance at Yin Jiuruo, only to find the girl staring straight ahead, her expression unchanged.

It seemed that hearing such malicious slander had become so frequent that numbness had set in.

Just then, a wonton stall in the market was knocked over. At a glance, several burly men were seen retreating in panic, their faces filled with terror as they stared at Fu Qing and Yin Jiuruo.

Feng Qi, ever perceptive, quickly explained, “Those men have had a long-standing grudge against Jiuruo. Seeing you with us naturally scared the cowardice out of them.”

“What grudge?”

Noticing Yin Jiuruo lowering her head, her profile cold but not objecting, Feng Qi summarized succinctly:

“Ten years ago, they captured Jiuruo, cutting her flesh and draining her blood for three years, a period of relentless torment.”

“Why hasn’t revenge been sought?” Fu Qing tilted her head slightly, recalling the old scars beneath Yin Jiuruo’s neck from their intimate moments. The rabbit lantern in her hand cast light on Yin Jiuruo’s slender, fragile frame.

Surprised that the compassionate and saintly Daoist Master would say such a thing, Yin Jiuruo halted and met the woman’s deep, ink-dark phoenix eyes.

“Karma’s cycle is the natural order,” Fu Qing saw through her confusion at a glance.

Yin Jiuruo pondered for a long moment, feeling that Fu Qing’s expression was detached, giving an ethereal, mist-like impression. As the saying goes, “Heaven and earth are ruthless, treating all beings as straw dogs.”

The Demon Lord had said Fu Qing had mastered the Path of Heartlessness, how right that was.

“Because I’m still too weak; it’s not the right time for revenge,” she answered truthfully, yet a doubt arose in her heart: why was she always so careless around Fu Qing? Whatever the woman asked, she answered without hesitation.

Fu Qing nodded lying in wait suited this person’s temperament.

“Oh dear, Xiao Yin, why have you taken so long to come to my Feilengxuan? Sui Ge has been waiting for you for days. You owe 5,000 spirit stones this time pay up before you enter.”

The coquettish voice of the madam rang out as the three arrived at the brothel in the town, adorned with carved railings and painted pillars, resplendent in gold and jade. The impoverished, rustic town clashed starkly with such a luxurious establishment.

Five thousand spirit stones were no small sum enough to sustain a family of three in comfort for three years. Yet Yin Jiuruo didn’t even blink, directly handing over a spirit jade equivalent to the amount.

The madam immediately beamed. “Xiao Yin, made another fortune selling goods? So generous you must visit more often!”

Hearing this, Feng Qi rolled her eyes. This money was hard-earned through days and nights of scraping barnacles, selling goods, and hustling for sponsorships.

Over half of the seafood in the other continents came from the waters near Peach Blossom Town.

But Yin Jiuruo was as good at spending as she was at earning. Over the years, their expenses balanced out, leaving their accounts truly penniless.

The three arrived at the door of the most lavish chamber on the seventh floor of Feilengxuan. Yin Jiuruo took a deep breath, glancing at Fu Qing twice, still unable to fathom why she was following her.

It couldn’t possibly be because Fu Qing fancied her, she had a fiancée, after all.

If the intention was to kill her, the opportunity had long been there.

“Um, Daoist Master, you can wait outside for me.” Fu Qing replied softly, “No need. I’ll accompany you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Yin Jiuruo hesitated, still finding it strange to bring Fu Qing along.

“Could it be you have private matters to discuss?” Fu Qing rarely displayed such a naive expression but still asked considerately, “If so, I shall naturally step aside.”

Before Yin Jiuruo could answer, the door before them suddenly opened, revealing a tall woman in luxurious brocade robes, her noble brows and eyes peerless, her appearance exquisite.

However, the moment this lavishly dressed woman caught sight of Fu Qing, she froze in place, utterly speechless for a long while.

The stagnant atmosphere was broken by a soft, honeyed female voice.

“Jiuruo, why did you take so long? I missed you so much I nearly cried myself dry,” said Sui Ge, the brocade-clad courtesan, disregarding all decorum as she threw herself into Yin Jiuruo’s arms with an intimate, natural ease, her affection profound and sincere.

At that moment, the lavishly dressed woman finally spoke: “Chang Fan, our marriage.”

Feng Qi waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Yin Jiuruo, startled, momentarily forgot to push Sui Ge away. So the little spirits had been telling the truth Fu Qing really was engaged.

The fiancée was tall and beautiful, exuding an air of noble grace, clearly a rising star from some immortal sect.

Yin Jiuruo’s heart suddenly twinged, leaving her feeling hollow.

“Chang Fan, may we speak privately to discuss our marriage?” asked Shen Cangli, her gaze fervent, well aware that such matters were best discussed away from prying eyes.

“Very well,” Fu Qing replied, her delicate fingers brushing over the rabbit lantern as if displeased by the dust of the ancient path, which she then flicked away. Her gaze lingered on Yin Jiuruo embracing another, her tone indifferent. “This sovereign grants you a moment to catch up with old acquaintances.”

Hearing Fu Qing’s words, Sui Ge pouted in dissatisfaction. “Jiuruo, who is she? Didn’t you promise to marry me? You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

Lost in an inexplicable melancholy, Yin Jiuruo didn’t respond, merely staring blankly at Fu Qing’s retreating figure as she followed Shen Cangli into the distance.

Sui Ge eyed Yin Jiuruo suspiciously, baffled by her sudden despondency.

Just then, the white-robed Daoist sovereign returned alone to Yin Jiuruo’s side, her demeanor cool and composed.

“What is it? Shouldn’t the Daoist sovereign be accompanying your fiancée?”

The words slipped out before Yin Jiuruo realized the bitterness in her tone, instantly filling her with regret.

Fu Qing nodded, glancing back at Shen Cangli at the end of the corridor before calmly addressing Yin Jiuruo:

“At midnight, this sovereign shall come for our dual cultivation.”

Support The Frost Beneath Her Veil