The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 31.1

Yin Jiuruo was about to sneer when the woman clung to her again. Those moist, rhomboid lips were soft and enticing, like falling into a cloud.

A jolt of electric weakness caused Fu Qing to collapse into Yin Jiuruo’s arms. Her phoenix-like eyes filled with rouge-colored tears, her longing spreading like ripples on water.

A-Yin’s voice came clearly from the Warm Jade: “Is the Daoist Sovereign there too? What a coincidence. I wonder if Daoist Sovereign Chang Fan has ever bothered to check the compatibility of your horoscopes. Some people, no matter how hard they try, simply have no destiny together. They scatter like dust even without a breeze.”

Fu Qing’s long, fan-like lashes lowered. Her lips were stained a vivid, watery red from the intimacy. One kiss was not enough; instead, it ignited even more obsessive thoughts.

So what if they lacked destiny? She would stay by Yin Jiuruo’s side forever. Besides, she would find a way to forge a bond. On the Marriage Stone of Wuyang, they could re-enact the true laws of marriage. She would never allow them to be without a fate.

“I want to talk to A-Yin,” Yin Jiuruo muttered, her body drenched in the woman’s sweet, cloying fragrance.

However, the woman in her thin robes pressed closer, her snowy skin radiating a subtle scent. The faint, rhythmic sound of fabric rubbing against fabric filled the air.

“Jiuruo, Jiuruo, don’t worry. We will meet again soon. By the way, I wonder what you like to eat and play with now that you’ve grown up. Do you have a favorite flower?”

Fu Qing leaned against Yin Jiuruo’s shoulder, her liturgical robes half-fallen. A flash of ferocity crossed her blurred eyes, yet she could not stop her low whimpers as her body tightened in a sleek, relentless rhythm.

The intense heat of the fluids soaked Yin Jiuruo. She frowned slightly, fine beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. She tried to answer A-Yin, but the woman placed a finger over her lips. To prevent her soft, crying gasps from escaping, Fu Qing bit her lip hard. Her face was as cold as frost as she forced a chilling tone.

“What Yin Jiuruo likes is none of your concern, A-Yin.”

Despite her outward display of detached majesty, the woman’s lower body was already a sodden mess. Her pale legs were sore and weak, yet she continued to try and wrap them around Yin Jiuruo.

“Oh my, how can the Daoist Sovereign speak that way? Fine, I won’t argue with you. Regardless, Yin Jiuruo and I have thousands of years ahead of us; I’ll have plenty of time to learn everything about her.”

A-Yin paused, her laughter arrogant and bright. “It’s a pity the Daoist Sovereign only has these few measly decades. It’s only natural you’re so agitated and miserable.”

Yin Jiuruo’s eyes were blood-red. The union of soul and body brought a pleasure she did not want. But the woman seemed provoked; no matter how much she tried to endure, she could no longer control herself. The searing heat within almost melted Yin Jiuruo.

Fu Qing’s body faltered. Her elegant face was a tapestry of restrained endurance and dark, obsessive desire. With a wave of her hand, she cut the connection to the Warm Jade and leaned back into Yin Jiuruo’s embrace. Her breath was like orchids, punctuated by faint, uncontrollable gasps.

Perhaps because it had lasted too long and had been too intense, they both eventually fell into a deep sleep amidst the lingering mess. During this time, the Crane Boy, the Mechanical Black Bear, and the Penguin visited several times. Seeing the wooden doors firmly shut, they never dared to disturb them.

“Why does the Sovereign always cry like that when she’s with the Little Mistress? Is she practicing some very painful cultivation technique?” The Black Bear and Xiao Huo looked bewildered and worried.

The Crane Boy and the Penguin were equally confused and could only lead the others away.

“Are we really not going to wake them?” the Black Bear asked hesitantly, looking at the reluctant expression of Xiao Huo on its shoulder.

The Crane Boy shuddered, two feathers falling from his body. “I wouldn’t dare. If anyone dares to say more than a few words to the Little Mistress now, the Sovereign’s expression becomes terrifying.”

The Penguin nodded emphatically in agreement. “Truly. I don’t even dare to look at the Little Mistress too much. I feel like the Sovereign might kick us out at any moment.”

The Black Bear’s bead-like eyes looked quite aggrieved. “But I like playing with the Little Mistress. She even taught me how to play chess.”

The Crane Boy covered its mouth. “Hurry up and leave! If the Sovereign hears you, you won’t see the Little Mistress for the rest of your life.”

It wasn’t until the lamps were lit that Fu Qing finally woke. Opening her eyes, she saw Yin Jiuruo’s pale, tranquil sleeping face, and her heart steadied slightly. The next moment, she moved her body, and a dull, stinging ache radiated from where she had been thoroughly breached.

The pain was long and sharp, yet it only made the woman crave more, desiring to be treated even more heavily. It felt as though this pain proved Yin Jiuruo still cared for her, even if only a little.

Awakened by Fu Qing’s low, pained whimpers, Yin Jiuruo opened her drowsy eyes to find the woman’s flushed, glamorous face. She snapped awake instantly, shocked to find her hand still deep inside. She didn’t know whether to withdraw or stay.

“Yin Jiuruo, out first, it hurts,” Fu Qing pushed weakly against Yin Jiuruo’s wrist.

However, both were limp and exhausted. The brief struggle only caused a reflexive tightening that pulled Yin Jiuruo back in.

A long time later, after they had bathed, Fu Qing glanced at the Warm Jade Yin Jiuruo was idling with and forced a smile. “Yin Jiuruo, shall we go to the mortal realm tomorrow to see the river lanterns?”

“River lanterns for the Qixi Festival are for lovers. What are we, going to see them?” Yin Jiuruo lowered her eyes. She decided to treat herself as a puppet; this momentary pleasure with Fu Qing was nothing more than a snake bite.

One朝被蛇咬，十年怕草繩. Once bitten, twice shy. How fitting.

Outside the Linyue Residence, the withered branches of the parasol tree were etched against the pale blue sky.

“Yin Jiuruo, we are still Dao companions. Why can’t we admire the lanterns together?” Fu Qing spoke with solemn sincerity. The tiny snowflakes around her made her ink-dark eyes appear exceptionally beautiful and affectionate.

How ironic. When Yin Jiuruo heard the word “Dao companions,” she couldn’t stop laughing until she coughed up flecks of crimson blood. What did Fu Qing think a Dao companion was? Did she think bowing to Heaven and Earth made them so, or that a vow once made could never change?

Heaven and Earth can be deceived; vows can be broken. Affection built on lies, no matter how beautiful it blooms, is false.

Yin Jiuruo felt her cold body suddenly ignited by Fu Qing’s words. Something called hate began to burn fiercely. It rose higher and higher, threatening to incinerate her completely. If only it would burn her to ash, then she wouldn’t have to look at this filthy world anymore.

In the silence, the sound of music suddenly drifted over. Today was apparently the wedding day of a certain Elder in the Canglan Sect. The festive sounds of pipes and drums reached even the isolated Heshue Peak.

Yin Jiuruo and Fu Qing stared at each other. Indifference and confusion shifted between them, but now, it was Yin Jiuruo who was indifferent. She felt as if she had returned to that day, wearing her bright red wedding robes, nailed to the Dragon Pillar used for punishing criminals.

There was a gaping hole in her chest, and the whistling wind passing through it served as a constant reminder that the sword which pierced her heart was the same one that once shielded her from the elements. Amidst the righteous shouts of slaying demons for the Dao, she had collapsed silently. It was like being submerged by a tidal wave, then scorched by boundless flames, leaving behind only ashes for people to trample on.

“Daoist Sovereign, has your cultivation rotted your brain?” Yin Jiuruo wiped the blood from her lips, staring into Fu Qing’s eyes. She spoke syllable by syllable. “How could we possibly be Dao companions?”

“Then what are we?” Fu Qing replied with a steady, sorrowful gaze.

Only then did Yin Jiuruo realize that Fu Qing’s dark pupils weren’t always cold. They could turn into a very gentle color that made one drown in a daze, and yet, how cruel their owner was.

“A liar and a fool.”

“Yin Jiuruo, you,” Fu Qing clutched a gold-embroidered handkerchief, wanting to wipe the blood from Yin Jiuruo’s lips, but for the first time, she felt a powerless sense of helplessness.

“Daoist Sovereign Chang Fan, has your immortality stripped you of your humanity? Marriage is something done by two people who truly love each other. You’ve lied to Heaven, to all living beings, and to me. Can you lie to yourself?”

“If you have even a shred of mercy left, stop pretending to be so deeply affectionate. Show your fangs. Kill me or cut me, do as you please.”

Yin Jiuruo felt the room was too stifling. She sat in her wheelchair and pushed the door open, heading out into the snow. Fu Qing’s heart sank. Her face paled as she uncontrollably stepped forward to grab Yin Jiuruo’s hand.

“Yin Jiuruo, I want to learn to love you.”

The withered branches whistled in the wind. Yin Jiuruo coldly brushed Fu Qing’s hand away. The red marks around her eyes looked like flowing blood. Though her face was deathly pale, she carried a dark, shadowy aura, like a shattered parasol flower blooming at its end.

“Daoist Sovereign, have you performed this play so many times that you actually believe it yourself?”

“Yin Jiuruo,” Fu Qing bit her red lip, oblivious to the snow settling on her robes. “I am not acting.”

“Is that so? Sovereign, you’ve even deceived yourself. Have you lied to yourself so much that you truly think you love me?”

Perhaps this was retribution. A liar who, in the end, cons even themselves. But in the end, it was still just a lie. In the distance, the last of the white parasol flowers rolled along the deep corridor, gasping for breath.

Fu Qing’s heart, usually as calm as an ancient mirror, developed a faint crack. Her voice became inexplicably husky. “Yin Jiuruo, I want to make it up to you. I never wanted you to die.”

“Stop joking. Why can’t you just treat me as if I were dead?” Yin Jiuruo laughed loudly. More and more blood leaked from the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t tell if it was her injured internal organs bleeding or the wind and snow slicing her throat.

Fu Qing wanted to compensate her? She was just pitying her, pitying a cripple trapped in a cage. A liar compensating a fool? How? With what?

The happy times of the past? The love and friendship that once surrounded her? This person had once sewn clothes for her stitch by stitch, pitied her loneliness, taught her how to cultivate, and worried about her well-being. So much goodness, only for it to end abruptly at its peak, transforming into a sword aimed at her heart.

“Do you think it was the Chishuang Sword that pierced my heart? No, it wasn’t. It was your kindness. It was you saying you wanted to marry me. It was you saying you liked me. It was the love and warmth I craved that pierced me with ten thousand arrows.”

“It was my own greed. I actually believed the lie that someone could love me. Now you say you’ll try to love me? I can’t bear it.” Yin Jiuruo’s body gave out, and she slumped into the snow. Her blood hit the ground like blooming red lotuses of hell. “How could I ever be worthy of the Daoist Sovereign’s pity?”

She lamented, hiding her face in her sleeves. “I no longer have such delusions.”

At this moment, Yin Jiuruo seemed like an irrational madman. In the cold snow, she cried and laughed like a tragic actress, her words incoherent and frantic. She could no longer distinguish between lies and reality. Her body bled inside and out; her heart was a mass of scars.

The bamboo hairpin holding her hair fell into the snow. Fu Qing’s clear, indifferent eyes filled with a fear they had never known. She wrapped her snowy white robe around Yin Jiuruo. For a moment, she forgot to use her spiritual power to heal her. She could only kneel there blankly, her robes spreading out like a lotus.

Suddenly, the coughing and trembling stopped. Yin Jiuruo brushed off Fu Qing’s robe and struggled back into her wheelchair. She wiped away the tears and blood, looking like a glass doll that had painstakingly pieced itself back together.

“I’ve made a fool of myself before the Daoist Sovereign. Forgive me; since we stand on opposite sides of good and evil, I cannot control my emotions as well as you can.” Her long, thick lashes were wet, but her pure black eyes were as hollow and calm as a desert.

“Yin Jiuruo, no, I didn’t know you had so much obsession in your heart,” Fu Qing’s voice lost its clarity, becoming harsh and strained. She struggled to suppress the rampaging spiritual power within her, unaware that the fine snow around her had already frozen into thick frost.

“It’s alright. You are the Sovereign. You carry the world in your heart. You are serene, holy, and merciful. I don’t blame you.” Yin Jiuruo curled her pale, blood-stained lips into a strange smile. “The Sovereign wishes to see the river lanterns with me? I would be happy to accompany you, as long as it makes you happy.”

Fu Qing remained half-kneeling in the snow, looking up at Yin Jiuruo. Her dark hair was slightly messy, her collar partially open, her skin like jade. Her red lips were slightly parted, her brow furrowed in a look of unbearable longing, as if she were begging for something or desperately trying to endure.

“Yin Jiuruo, what’s wrong? Why are you talking like this? Didn’t you say you wanted to see lanterns made of snow? We can go see the river lanterns first.”

Yin Jiuruo closed her eyes wearily, interrupting her. “It’s nothing. I’m just so happy to go see the lanterns with you that I’m speaking this way.”

After saying it, she laughed to herself. It turned out lying wasn’t that hard after all. No wonder everyone in the Canglan Sect, aside from Fu Qing, loved to lie so much. You just say heartless things. Whether you’re actually happy or willing is something only you need to know.

“Yin Jiuruo, are you truly willing to go with me?” Fu Qing gripped Yin Jiuruo’s hand, lost and confused. She didn’t understand what had happened to her. She didn’t understand the sudden change, but a thread of joy began to spread through her heart.

“Of course. I’m very happy,” Yin Jiuruo replied, her eyes downcast.

How could Fu Qing ever understand what she truly wanted? Was it really the lanterns? Whether the lanterns were made of snow or fire, did that actually matter? She had only ever wanted one person who was sincere. And now, she didn’t know if anyone would ever be sincere with her again.

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