The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 32.1

A-Yin emerged from the theater with a yawn, her white fox tail still visible, swishing in rhythm with her owner’s surprise. “Daoist Sovereign Chang Fan, where in the world is it logical to marry the same person twice? Aren’t you afraid of becoming the laughingstock of the world if word gets out?”

“Moreover, Sovereign, you know full well that Jiuruo is a demon, an anomaly in your eyes. If you truly marry her, how will you face the righteous sects?” A-Yin stroked her tail before tucking it away. “Why not do something kind for once? Help me prepare a wedding feast for Jiuruo and me instead. My Qingqiu clan will surely return the favor with a grand gift.”

Under the willow tree, the woman stood in a simple white robe. Even as her emotions ebbed and flowed, she remained transcendent, solitary and independent from the world.

Yin Jiuruo finally saw it in the woman’s eyes—a sharp, stinging pain that was both repressed and feverishly exhausted. But it was fleeting, like a dream or a bubble. The Fu Qing before her remained noble, restrained, and pure.

After a long silence, Fu Qing gazed at Yin Jiuruo with a gentle, calm, yet firm expression. “Xiao Jiu, let me compensate you.”

She knew in her heart that Yin Jiuruo was merely acting a part with her, but she was willing to play along. If they played this part for a lifetime, they could stay together for a lifetime. As long as they remained together, she believed they could one day return to how they were and find happiness.

A-Yin looked at the sky and spoke coldly. “Who wants your compensation? Sovereign, you think too highly of yourself. To some, you are a treasure, but to others, you are worth less than a blade of grass.”

The moon was setting and the night was nearly over. On the nearby lake, various river lanterns floated, their lights flickering and dimming. Fu Qing lowered her head slightly. Having suppressed her cultivation to mortal levels, two hours in the cold wind had left the corners of her narrow eyes red and moist, giving her a fragile, swaying beauty. Yet, even so, she carried an air of condescending indifference. Her frosted face seemed to say to Yin Jiuruo: I will force you to love only me.

In her wheelchair, Yin Jiuruo tilted her head and laughed. She looked ethereal and agile, like a gust of wind about to fly away.

Compensate her? How many times had she heard similar words? They had agreed to see the mechanical exhibition together, but in the end, Fu Qing went with Shen Cangli. It was just a regular exhibition with only two slots; what did it matter who went? For ten years under the Kama Heart Tower, Fu Qing had comforted her with gentle words, promising she would come again. So, she endured in the darkness, waiting for a candle flame to appear. When Fu Qing said she wouldn’t marry Shen Cangli, Yin Jiuruo had been so happy.

And the ending?

“Xiao Jiu, believe me one more time,” Fu Qing frowned slightly, her expression solemn and grave. “I will make you happy.”

Yin Jiuruo idly toyed with her sleeve, her long lashes casting dark shadows over her eyes. Believe Fu Qing? The consequence of believing Fu Qing was ten years of imprisonment and finding out her best friend was a lie. The consequence of believing Fu Qing was being pierced through the heart on her wedding night, discarded like a piece of junk.

The irony was that Fu Qing still thought Yin Jiuruo was easy to fool. She actually believed a single word compensation could erase the trauma of a puppet who had been manipulated her entire life. How could the noble Daoist Sovereign, forever admired and perched above the dust, ever understand the pain of a speck of dust being crushed?

“Alright, Master, let’s marry,” Yin Jiuruo gently traced the cloud pattern on her sleeve and agreed with a radiant smile. “I’ll believe you one more time. The very last time.”

Who couldn’t tell a few lies? At least she was getting better at it. As long as your heart held a hatred as sharp as a sword through the chest, speaking cold, nauseating lies became simple and effortless.

Hearing Yin Jiuruo call her “Master” again made Fu Qing’s heart skip a beat, an uncontrollable throb of excitement blooming in her chest.

A-Yin was baffled for a moment, but after a brief silence, she let out a secret smile of realization. She had always said demons were devious; Yin Jiuruo, a young master of pure blood, was clearly the most cunning of them all.

Fu Qing scrutinized Yin Jiuruo. She didn’t know if Yin Jiuruo’s willingness to see the lanterns was a good sign. But agreeing to marry her surely meant things would get better. She chose to believe Xiao Jiu was giving her another chance. Even if this tenderness was as fleeting as a night-blooming cereus, she would grasp it tightly. She would learn to treat Yin Jiuruo well, like mortal lovers who supported each other through everything.

“Hey, Sovereign, you want to marry Jiuruo, but do you actually like her?” A-Yin sneered. She didn’t believe Fu Qing understood love, or was even capable of it. For someone naturally heartless, even if she wanted to love, how much could that love truly weigh? It was likely just a sinner seeking redemption to ease her own conscience.

“I will learn. I will love her well.” The breeze stirred the hair at Fu Qing’s temples. Her lowered head looked merciful and beautiful, possessing a quiet, unshakable certainty.

Yin Jiuruo laughed silently in her heart. Love is not something you can learn if it isn’t already in your heart.

“Yes, I believe Master wouldn’t lie to me.” Yin Jiuruo wanted to applaud herself. Lying so effortlessly and without burden felt wonderful. She imagined Fu Qing must have felt the same delight when deceiving her. With just a bit of false affection, one could coax another into total devotion, holding their very life and death in a single thought.

“Oh dear, then I am truly heartbroken. Jiuruo, our matchmaking session ended in failure. How am I supposed to live? My heart is shattered into pieces.”

Knowing A-Yin was acting, Yin Jiuruo played along with a bitter smile. “A-Yin, didn’t you say we have the friendship of growing up together?”

“I don’t care! I have no face left! I’m going back to Qingqiu to cry for three days and nights. Don’t anyone stop me!” A-Yin wailed as she ran away, her red robes and jade ornaments clinking, perfectly mirroring Yin Jiuruo’s current playful mood.

Under the night sky, the flickering shadows made Fu Qing’s profile shift between light and dark. She looked hesitantly in the direction A-Yin had vanished. “Does A-Yin really like you that much, Xiao Jiu?”

To Fu Qing, the performance seemed affected, but the way A-Yin looked at Yin Jiuruo always made her feel extremely uncomfortable. It felt as though something that belonged exclusively to her was being coveted by others, making her want to hide Yin Jiuruo away.

Looking at the noble, cold woman before her—flawless as if carved from ice and jade—Yin Jiuruo lowered her head and didn’t answer. She thought Fu Qing would never understand this kind of pain. The woman had always been the pinnacle of the immortal sects; she would never know the shock of losing something she loved. It wasn’t that Fu Qing couldn’t lose things; it was that she simply had nothing she loved.

As dawn approached, the lanterns on the lake grew sparse. The bustling streets quieted down as vendors began packing their things to head home. An old man selling lanterns under another willow tree chose two phoenix-styled lanterns and walked over with a smile.

“I’ve seen you two by the river for a long time. Did you release a lantern? I have these last two left; they’re for you. Young people, hurry and go release them.” The old man looked at Yin Jiuruo and added, “It’s good that you’ve come back.”

“Old sir, there’s no need…” Before Fu Qing could finish, the old man placed the lanterns in Yin Jiuruo’s lap and jogged away to finish packing.

The bamboo-woven lanterns were beautiful and light. Yin Jiuruo held them with a calm expression, staring at the old man’s retreating back. Fu Qing used a flight charm to slip two hundred coins into the old man’s pocket, then turned to find Yin Jiuruo in a daze.

“Xiao Jiu, do you know that old man?”

“No… I don’t. He just looks familiar.” Yin Jiuruo felt exhausted and didn’t want to explain her connection to him. Back then, full of hope that she would marry Fu Qing, she had saved up a dozen silver taels and asked this old man to build her a new dressing table. In the end, a single letter of rejection forced her to cancel the order. The old man, who was a younger man then, had asked her why she no longer wanted it.

“She isn’t coming back,” Yin Jiuruo remembered answering.

Today’s chance encounter was unexpected. She hadn’t realized the old man would remember her, let alone comfort her by saying, “It’s good that you’ve come back.” However, some things can never be returned to. But since the old man’s intentions were kind, Yin Jiuruo whispered to Fu Qing, “Let’s release the lanterns. I don’t want to waste the maker’s heart.”

Fu Qing nodded. She pushed Yin Jiuruo closer to the river and knelt to light the two phoenix lanterns. As the morning light broke, the lanterns drifted away like scattered stars.

“After the wedding, we can replant the parasol trees and choose the seeds for the mountain lotuses in the pond. Shall we go pick them out together?” Fu Qing’s phoenix eyes were lit by the reflection of the lake, shimmering with what looked like genuine joy.

“Alright,” Yin Jiuruo replied. She felt she was doing an excellent job as a puppet, making the puppeteer believe everything was under control.

“Xiao Jiu, if you want candied strawberries, I’ll make them for you when we return to Hexue Peak.”

“Alright.”

“Every year from now on, I will take you to see the snowflake lanterns in the Far North.”

“Alright.”

Fu Qing hesitated, wanting to say much more. But she suddenly remembered that she and Yin Jiuruo had already shared so much. They had met in the mountains, in palaces, on snowy streets, and on painted boats in the autumn rain. Every beginning of their fate had been wonderful. Having her full memories, she felt as though she and Yin Jiuruo had spent several lifetimes together. Every time, she found her, using temptation, sincerity, lies, or promises.

She wondered who looked forward to the meetings more, and who was more heartbroken by the identical endings. Fu Qing felt a sense of bewilderment.

They did not return immediately to the Canglan Sect. Instead, they detoured to Wuyang Mountain to re-enact the true marriage laws. In the deep valley, the four seasons rotated constantly; heavy snow and scorching sun were separated only by a breath.

The Marriage Stone was still a small, shallow pool of water, its surface perfectly still. Vivid flowers bloomed on the tangled branches of the trees above, where lovebirds circled. The process was identical to the last time. Gradually, their names began to appear on the water of the Marriage Stone.

Yin Jiuruo watched the two names intertwined. She thought of the illusion Fu Qing had shown her before. It had made her happy for a long time. This person truly went all out with her acting; in a world of fakes, not a single thing was real.

“Xiao Jiu, the reason I didn’t form the true bond with you back then was because…”

“There’s no need to explain. You naturally had your reasons. It’s all in the past. I don’t need to hear it.” And I don’t want to, she thought.

Fu Qing’s confusion deepened. Why, when she finally wanted to explain, was Xiao Jiu unwilling to listen?

Suddenly, pillars of heavenly light poured down. After countless specks of dust danced in the light, the names of Fu Qing and Yin Jiuruo in the clear pool were blown away like powder, leaving no trace. The green branches of the trees swayed in the wind, struggling to connect. The Blade of Severed Fate wobbled and then snapped with a loud crack, its sap leaking as it quickly withered.

“Fu Qing, our branches are broken. We can’t connect,” Yin Jiuruo laughed. The movement was so sudden it jolted her internal organs, causing intense pain, yet she felt a sense of total catharsis. “It doesn’t matter if the contract isn’t formed. Isn’t it enough that we are together?”

Seeing this, Fu Qing’s calm expression turned heavy. She remembered the secondary marriage register the Three Kings had shown her in the Reincarnation Hell. It had said: Fu Qing and Yin Jiuruo, fate exhausted.

Yin Jiuruo watched with delight. Fu Qing, refusing to believe in fate, cut her finger and let her blood drip into the pool, writing their names again. Within moments, the red blood faded, leaving the water clear and empty. Their names vanished once more.

The woman’s heart sank into an abyss. “Nothing but a mere mortal object.”

Suddenly, a wild wind roared. A golden rift opened in the sky, and pure golden spiritual energy poured down like a waterfall from the nine heavens. Fu Qing used the energy as a brush, writing her name and Yin Jiuruo’s upon the water. The pool boiled and churned, resisting the irresistible force until it was exhausted. Holding divine power in a mortal body and ignoring karma, Fu Qing finally carved their names, completing the marriage bond.

At that moment, she thought of nothing else; she simply would not allow her fate with Yin Jiuruo to end. Even if the natural laws tried to stop it, she would not permit it.

However, a piercing wind swept the earth. Lightning and torrential rain poured down, intensifying until it looked like the divine punishment of legend. Yin Jiuruo didn’t understand how Fu Qing could channel divine power before ascending. She only saw the woman’s clear eyes filled with a fragmented, fierce, and tragic light—as if something dangerous was about to break through.

“The punishment will not fall now, do not worry,” Fu Qing said. Her face was much paler than before, but she still looked as radiant as a flower.

“Are you suffering a backlash?” Yin Jiuruo noticed that the skin on the hand Fu Qing had used to carve the names was peeling away, revealing shimmering divine bone. The blood stained her solemn white robes.

Fu Qing looked indifferently at her right hand, which was turning into bone. “It is fine. I just need a few days of rest.”

Yin Jiuruo smiled. “As long as it doesn’t delay our wedding.”

A small glimmer of joy and uncertainty flickered in the woman’s eyes. She took Yin Jiuruo’s cold hand. “It won’t.”

When they returned to Hexue Peak, they encountered Shen Cangli waiting outside the barrier. She looked as though she hadn’t slept all night, with dark circles under her eyes and a haggard, defeated appearance. Almost the instant she saw Shen Cangli, Fu Qing frowned and cast an invisibility spell, hiding herself and Yin Jiuruo.

Back at Linyue Residence, Yin Jiuruo opened her eyes lazily. “Aren’t you going to see Shen Cangli?”

“You need to take your medicine and bathe first. I will see her later.”

“Alright.”

This routine happened almost every day; Yin Jiuruo was nearly immune to it. The bath behind the residence was already filled with various spiritual herbs. The clear, hot water slowly turned a pale pink. Fu Qing’s beautiful, cold face was pale from her injury, but her lips were blood-red, giving her an oddly seductive, demonic quality.

“Fu Qing, tomorrow let’s try brewing a jar of parasol flower wine,” Yin Jiuruo said, staring straight ahead, unwilling to look at the woman’s graceful, fragrant figure.

“Parasol flower wine?”

“Mhm. A wedding is a happy occasion. It’s more meaningful to brew the wine ourselves to celebrate.”

In the swirling mist, Fu Qing gazed at Yin Jiuruo. The girl’s eyes, which were darker than a normal person’s, were hollow and empty of emotion.

“Xiao Jiu, are you truly happy?”

“Yes, I am very happy. Very happy. I’m just a little tired.”

In the room, the sound of the water echoed. With her robes half-off and her black hair like silk, Fu Qing’s jade-like skin turned a faint pink from the heat. The wound on her right hand was gruesome, almost entirely skeletal. The contrast between the beautiful woman and the skeletal hand, a clash of the horrific and the exquisite created a soul-stirring, demonic allure that was impossible to look away from.

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