The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 30.2

Yin Jiuruo sat at the white jade table, a layer of gloom over her eyes. She offered no comment on Fu Qing’s actions. When the intent is unknown and the truth indistinguishable, the best method is to ignore it.

“Is it not dangerous for you to come here alone?”

“I have A-Bao with me,” A-Yin pointed to the griffin currently pestering Xiao Huo. “Besides, the relationship between the mortal cultivation world and our Qingqiu is very good. They wouldn’t easily offend me.”

“I see,” Yin Jiuruo gave a weary smile.

Seeing her dejected state, A-Yin shook her head and comforted her: “Everything is fine back home. The three uncles said you should stay here in peace, don’t forget to cultivate, and remember this is merely a tribulation.”

Sensing the deliberate nature of A-Yin’s words, Yin Jiuruo pondered for a moment. Firstly, the three uncles would never willingly want her to stay by Fu Qing’s side. The emphasis on cultivation… did it imply that strength was the key to escape? But Fu Qing’s cultivation was not something that could be surpassed in a short time.

As if reading her mind, A-Yin smiled and said: “Your uncles reminded you that you’ll understand if you look more into books regarding Ancient Miraculous Fires.”

“Understood. Thank you for the help,” Yin Jiuruo replied, her eyes instinctively drifting to the bamboo documents by A-Yin’s hand.

“What are you looking at? This is the real deal. When you were born, I was already nearly three thousand years old. I even changed your diapers.”

A-Yin talked incessantly while Yin Jiuruo listened, her expression turning skeptical at the mention of diapers.

“Hey, don’t disbelieve me,” A-Yin saw Fu Qing coming out with the food and purposely raised her voice. “Back then, everyone in Qingqiu said we looked like a perfect couple. They were just waiting to drink our wedding wine.”

Fu Qing placed the light dishes on the stone table, followed by the crane boy serving spiritual grass drinks for calming the mind. A-Yin leaned against a soft cushion and continued her reminiscing. “You probably don’t remember, but when you were just a tiny thing, you insisted on me holding you. I even cooed you to sleep for naps.”

“Xiao Jiu, drink some tea first.”

Taking the tea Fu Qing had handed to Yin Jiuruo, A-Yin downed it in one go and praised heartily: “Daoist Sovereign Changfan, your skills are quite good. I thought someone so detached from the world wouldn’t deign to wash her hands and make soup.”

A-Yin was not polite at all. She thanked Fu Qing and picked up her chopsticks, starting with a bowl of lotus seed and lily soup. She then noticed Yin Jiuruo sitting motionless, with no intention of eating.

At this time, Fu Qing had taken a clean porcelain spoon, scooped some spiritual medicinal soup, cooled it with a breath, and tried to feed Yin Jiuruo. Yin Jiuruo turned her head, avoiding the spoon.

“Venerable One, Xiao Jiu wants to spend time alone with me,” A-Yin said, noticing Yin Jiuruo’s total resistance and deliberately speaking with a sarcastic edge. “Why don’t you stop disturbing our reunion?”

She sat closer to Yin Jiuruo and picked up a piece of white jade tofu to feed her. “Eat slowly.”

Unexpectedly, Yin Jiuruo turned her face away again, rejecting the gesture. “I don’t want to eat these.”

Fu Qing sighed inwardly, her voice soft and persuasive. “Xiao Jiu, tell me what you want to eat, and I will make it for you.”

“As long as it’s not made by you, it’s fine,” Yin Jiuruo replied, her expression composed.

“Oh dear, that’s a bit of a problem,” A-Yin thought for a moment with feigned distress, then suddenly ran to A-Bao and pulled out a blue bundle. “I have some Qingqiu specialty purple potato coconut cakes I made yesterday. Want to try?”

Fu Qing looked down at the two. Seeing Yin Jiuruo say “Okay,” the wind and snow in the courtyard suddenly grew more violent, the sound of the gale turning desolate.

A-Yin picked up a light purple pastry with bamboo chopsticks and slowly fed it to Yin Jiuruo. They chatted as they ate, and soon the cakes were gone. Not a single hand touched the food on the table.

Having set a restriction that prevented departure, Fu Qing sensed the dark undercurrent in her heart. She returned to her room, intending to play the zither to suppress it, but found she had no interest. She sat alone at her desk, flipping through ancient texts. However, the obsession in her spiritual sea—the urge to immediately lock Yin Jiuruo by her side—rose like a tide, becoming difficult to control.

The sound of rolling wheels echoed. Yin Jiuruo asked from the doorway: “Can you return the hairpin I’m supposed to give A-Yin?”

“The hairpin?” Fu Qing looked up from her books, looking like a piece of cold white porcelain devoid of emotion.

“Mhm. That Linked Branches hairpin.” Yin Jiuruo pointed to the warm jade already hanging from her waist, where the emerald jade pendant used to be. Fu Qing had tied it there herself after bathing her. “This was a gift from A-Yin. I think I should return the favor.”

The woman’s eyes flickered with a ghostly crimson light, her hands clenching as she suppressed her reaction. She handed the hairpin to Yin Jiuruo from her storage bag, instructing tenderly: “Xiao Jiu, I am gratified that you have made more friends. Give the hairpin to her, and then there is no need for you two to meet again.”

She emphasized the word “friends.”

In the snow-filled courtyard, A-Yin looked at Fu Qing with great interest. Legend had it this Daoist Sovereign was as pure as the moon, practicing the Way of Emotionless where all things are one. Today, she saw that the person was indeed as clean as jade. But cold jade is fragile; the more it is bound by rules and restraint, the closer it seems to the edge of a frantic collapse.

“Daoist Sovereign, Jiuruo and I are more than just ‘friends.’ Don’t get it wrong. Besides, we’ll have plenty of chances to meet in the future.”

Fu Qing looked up slightly, her thick dark lashes hiding the surging dark tide in her eyes. In a place no one could see, the ancient book in her hand was instantly ground into powder.

Yin Jiuruo returned to the courtyard and handed the hairpin to A-Yin. “I prepared this for you. I hope it’s not too late.”

“Not at all! I love it. Linked Branches are a good omen.” The red-robed girl’s voice was melodious, like a free wind capable of nourishing a weary heart.

However, the next moment, A-Yin summoned A-Bao and, taking Yin Jiuruo with her, flew toward the sky. Halfway up, they were stopped by an invisible barrier and forced to land back in the courtyard.

Fu Qing stood under the snowy eaves with her hands behind her back, her cold face wearing a look of warmth. Simply standing there, she looked peerless. It was A-Yin who grew sheepish first, laughing awkwardly before saying righteously:

“I just wanted to test the Sovereign’s strength. Indeed, you are not to be underestimated. I’m impressed.”

Fu Qing’s expression was lukewarm, her celestial appearance a picture of quiet detachment, making it impossible to see if a storm was brewing within. Yin Jiuruo’s cold, dark peach-blossom eyes met hers, and a flicker of doubt arose in the woman: Is my Daoist heart truly stable?

In almost an instant, she gave herself the answer she wanted: the Great Way of Emotionless was complete, and her ascension was imminent. Her heart would not waver.

A-Yin supported Yin Jiuruo and asked: “But why is the Sovereign keeping such a close watch on Jiuruo?”

“Xiao Jiu needs rest and must not be reckless. Besides, she is this Sovereign’s Dao companion; how can she be taken away by you without reason?” Fu Qing said plainly, her gaze sweeping over the two in their intimate posture. The dust of the ancient book she had ground up blew away in the wind.

“Is that so, Sovereign?” A-Yin waved her slender fingers playfully. “But you can lock up a person; can you lock up a heart?”

Fu Qing’s eyes were cold. She looked into the void, and as if she hadn’t heard, she turned to instruct Yin Jiuruo. “Xiao Jiu, it is time for you to rest.”

The snowy white vestments wrapped the woman tightly, as if stopping some dangerous overflow. In a flurry of snow, A-Yin rode away with A-Bao, leaving only one sentence: “Jiuruo, I’ll be back. Don’t worry!”

After A-Yin vanished, Fu Qing reinforced the barrier. She took Yin Jiuruo back to her bedroom, sleeping by her side day and night.

For the following days, Fu Qing spent her time in the study reading or repairing mechanical constructs. When she did come out, it was only to check the Soul-Binding Lamp and replenish its spiritual energy. The Sect Leader tried several times to ask about A-Yin, but was blocked by the barrier.

Yin Jiuruo never forgot to cultivate. Perhaps because she had died once, her cultivation speed was incredibly fast. Gradually, her hands were no longer so stiff, and she could do simple tasks. Every morning, she wheeled herself to the archives of Hexue Peak, searching for secret techniques. She actually found records concerning soul-summoning:

[A soul at birth is filled with infinite Dao Qi. As years pass, the Dao Qi dissipates back into the vast Great Luo Heaven. Thus, to gather a soul, one must use an object imbued with that person’s Dao Qi as a medium, supplemented by supreme magic…]

Yin Jiuruo finally understood. Fu Qing was able to summon her because she possessed enough items stained with her aura. If she destroyed all those items, the soul-summoning could not continue.

As she was reading, footsteps echoed in the attic. It was the crane boy. Its voice was strained. “Little Master, the Sovereign wants you to go to her.”

“Is there a reason?” Yin Jiuruo leaned back, her usually melancholy brows now sharp and cold. “I’m reading; I don’t have time.”

The crane boy was puzzled by her attitude. It remembered that the Little Master used to want to be by the Sovereign’s side every second. Why did everything change after the battle? Didn’t the Sovereign specifically save her?

“Little Master, can I ask what happened between you and the Sovereign?”

Surprised by the question, Yin Jiuruo dropped her book. Though it was clean, she found it difficult to even bend over. The crane boy picked it up for her.

“Fu Qing and I…” Yin Jiuruo smiled toward the empty distance, like a poppy blooming on a rotting branch. “She granted me a nightmare I cannot wake from.”

“But I heard dreams always end. How can one not wake up?” The crane boy scratched its head.

“Because it was a gift from her.”

“Oh… the Sovereign’s power is great. Put that way, I think I understand,” the crane boy squinted. “Little Master, I made the food today. Please eat more.”

After lingering in the archives for half the day, Yin Jiuruo slowly headed back. The path down was short, but at the end stood a slender figure. It seemed Fu Qing had come specifically to wait for her.

The woman held an umbrella, her posture dignified. Her black hair spread out like a feathered robe, and her voice was steady, hiding her helplessness. “Xiao Jiu, the crane boy made the food today.”

“Okay,” Yin Jiuruo was surprised by the concession, yet found the person even more inscrutable. In some matters, Fu Qing seemed infinitely indulgent, yet day by day, she bound her deeper and tighter.

In the main hall of Linyue Residence, the table was set with tender chicken, a milky vegetable soup, and vegetable rolls. Fu Qing watched Yin Jiuruo eat, her cold eyes flickering with a deep hue.

“Why haven’t I seen Xiao Huo lately?”

“It gets along well with A-Bao. I let it follow them back to Qingqiu.”

“Will it return?”

Clearly, Fu Qing was asking about more than just the firefly. But Yin Jiuruo was too tired to say another word. “I don’t know.”

Fu Qing’s breath paused. A-Yin’s words echoed in her mind: “You can lock up a person; can you lock up a heart?” How could she not keep the heart if she kept the person? As long as they stayed together for eternity, it would be fine.

Yin Jiuruo set down her chopsticks and toyed with the warm jade A-Yin had given her. She caught a glimpse of Fu Qing’s conflicted expression. The detached Daoist Sovereign seemed to be struggling with some sort of torment, looking seductive and beautiful like a stained pearl.

The temperature of the warm jade rose. Yin Jiuruo infused it with spiritual energy and heard A-Yin’s energetic voice.

“Jiuruo, what are you doing?” “Just finished a meal.”

Their familiar dialogue showed their frequent contact over the past few days. Fu Qing sat opposite her, her expression indifferent as usual.

A-Yin’s voice came through the jade. “Let me tell you, I’m currently calculating our horoscopes!”

“Horoscopes?” Yin Jiuruo rested her chin on her hand, chatting with A-Yin through the jade as if no one else were there. “Why calculate horoscopes?”

“To set an auspicious day for our wedding! My family is so anxious; they’re afraid I’ll never get married,” A-Yin’s voice was playful.

It was Yin Jiuruo’s turn to be surprised. “A-Yin, so soon?”

“Yes! We 九尾狐 love and hate fiercely. Once we decide, we don’t change.”

At the word “wedding,” Fu Qing’s deliberately indifferent expression instantly sank. Her phoenix eyes swirled with a dark, obscure desire.

Yin Jiuruo smiled carelessly. “I truly don’t know enough about your clan.”

“Then you should learn more!” A-Yin’s voice turned coquettish. “Jiuruo, once we’re married, how many children should we have?”

“Children?” Yin Jiuruo’s eyes crinkled; A-Yin was truly an interesting person.

“There are two auspicious days. Should we choose two months from now, or six months?”

Just as Yin Jiuruo was about to reply, a seductive sweet fragrance filled her senses. The cold, frost-like woman had already leaned down, her moist crimson lips covering Yin Jiuruo’s without hesitation.

They ground together, deepening the kiss, until only the sound of intense water remained between their soft lips.

“Xiao Jiu, tell her,” the woman’s eyes were filled with a crimson mist, her voice a weak, gasping breath, yet she remained stubbornly obsessive, “Only I can be your wife.”

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