The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 32.2

Like a spider lily perched on a withered branch, she was terrifyingly beautiful, a sight that made one tremble yet feel perversely willing to sacrifice everything.

With her long hair floating on the water’s surface, Fu Qing drew closer to Yin Jiuruo. The blurred steam made the woman’s radiance seem as dazzling and dangerous as a heart-snatching succubus.

“Are you afraid?” Fu Qing leaned against Yin Jiuruo’s shoulder, her voice soft as she gave a fierce yet delicate nip to the girl’s lip.

“No,” Yin Jiuruo replied coldly, pushing her away. Her clean, melancholic face no longer held the ecstatic devotion of the past. Instead, it showed only an absent-minded mockery. “I’m tired. Do it yourself.”

Fu Qing’s dark lashes trembled, her eyes splintering with emotion. Faced with Yin Jiuruo’s hot-and-cold detachment, she ultimately could not resist the temptation of being beneath her. The room filled with the scent of jade and hidden fragrance; the woman’s cold, glamorous eyes turned watery. Her slender waist twisted gently as she let out aggrieved whimpers, melting into a pool of spring water.

Fu Qing had thought that because Yin Jiuruo said she was tired, she would be as gentle and considerate as usual. She never expected that even hours later, there would be no reprieve. The woman’s habitual coldness was replaced by a total display of vulnerability. She slumped weakly against Yin Jiuruo, her eyes clouded with a crimson mist.

“Xiao Jiu… no more… tomorrow… alright?” she pleaded between sobs, her voice punctuated by suppressed, tiny moans.

Yin Jiuruo’s eyes remained perfectly clear, but her movements grew heavier. Her voice carried a chilling, non-negotiable authority. “Turn over.”

The white jade steps by the pool glowed faintly. Fu Qing had been kneeling for so long that her snowy skin was marked with bruises of purple and blue. The medicinal water in the pool slowly grew cold, but the sound of splashing water never ceased.

By the time the sky turned pale and Fu Qing returned to the bedroom, Yin Jiuruo had already been helped into the canopy bed by the Crane Boy. She was tucked under a feather quilt, her eyes closed in deep sleep.

Sitting by the bedside, the woman’s cheeks were flushed. She gazed at Yin Jiuruo with a complex, lingering longing for a long time before finally binding her hair and putting on clothes to hide the mottled marks covering her body. Only then did she go to the barrier of Hexue Peak to meet Shen Cangli.

Though she used spiritual energy to ward off the cold, Shen Cangli had waited the entire night. No matter how high her cultivation, she was still human; she was now cold and exhausted. The moment she saw the slender, graceful silhouette approaching, she snapped to attention.

“Chang Fan! Where have you been? Weren’t we supposed to see the river lanterns?” Shen Cangli had a mountain of questions, and she barely waited for an answer before asking the next. “I heard you exhausted your spiritual power to save that Yin Jiuruo, is it true?”

Fu Qing suppressed her physical discomfort, her brow furrowing instinctively. “I have already seen the lanterns. It was indeed I who saved Xiao Jiu. I promised to keep her safe; she shall not die.”

Shocked that Fu Qing had actually used a forbidden art, Shen Cangli shouted, “Chang Fan! Do you not understand the consequences of forbidden arts? Backlash and injury are the least of it, you could fall into demonhood! If cultivators like us become demons, we become neither human nor ghost, rejected by every living thing!”

“I can withstand divine punishment. I will not fall.”

“But… but why go this far for a lowly… wretch? She was born with such a filthy destiny!” When Shen Cangli reached the word “filthy,” she saw the flash of fury in Fu Qing’s eyes and lowered her voice until she could no longer continue.

“I am busy preparing for the wedding. If there is nothing else, we should not meet,” Fu Qing said, her gaze light and indifferent. She turned and walked away, her sleeves fluttering in the wind.

Standing alone in the eternal snow of Hexue Peak, Shen Cangli thought for a moment and suddenly “understood” Fu Qing’s attitude. In the mortal world, there was a custom that the couple should not see each other before the wedding. So, Chang Fan meant for her to go back and prepare for the ceremony.

It must be that, Shen Cangli thought, her expression twisting. Unable to enter the barrier, she could only stagger away, lost in a daze of delusion.

Yin Jiuruo never expected that Fu Qing’s “personal preparation” for the wedding would involve the woman holding an embroidery needle, stitching the wedding robes, quilts, and veils herself, stitch by stitch.

The girl sat by the window, never for a second relaxing her cultivation of the powers of Decay and Manipulation. However, this cultivation was often interrupted. Fu Qing would occasionally look up to ask which animal she liked, which shade of red she preferred, or if the ceremonial wine should be made sweeter.

If everything in the past hadn’t happened, they would surely have been the happiest couple under heaven. But there were no “ifs.” The jar of parasol flower wine had been buried in the plum grove outside, acting as a symbol of longevity.

Fu Qing still had not healed Yin Jiuruo’s legs. The woman remained noble and aloof, yet because they were not yet officially married, she seemed unable to truly find peace day after day. Or perhaps A-Yin’s words—”You can cage a person, but you cannot cage a heart”—had affected her more deeply than she cared to admit.

Sometimes, the woman would sit cross-legged on a lotus cushion, chanting the Heart Sutra. Her soft skin was covered in the marks of their intense intimacy, but hidden beneath her liturgical robes, she spent more and more time suppressing her desires to maintain her Daoist heart. In the pure, quiet hall, Daoist Sovereign Chang Fan looked dignified and high-minded, but a hidden anxiety was suppressed between her cold brows.

Her greedy attachment and the Daoist heart that had once severed all emotions were at war. The pain of suppressed desire leaked out, only to be forced back into the confines of her precepts. Her so-called “pure Daoist heart” was breaking, inch by inch, amidst the nightly pain and pleasure of their union.

Time flowed like water. Yin Jiuruo sat by the window every day, dealing with Fu Qing with a mix of warmth and coldness. Now, she no longer worried about Fu Qing’s moods; instead, the roles had reversed, and it was Fu Qing who lived in agonizing unrest. It turned out the wheel of karma truly did turn. Watching it was interesting at first, but after a while, it too became tiresome.

On the day of the wedding, Chong You was the only invited guest. She stood before the dressing mirror, doing Yin Jiuruo’s hair. The girl still looked weak and sickly, like the melancholic heroines in plays who die of a broken heart.

Looking at Yin Jiuruo dressed in red bridal silk once again, Chong You felt a sharp, lingering pain of fear. “Junior Sister, why repeat the same mistake?”

Yin Jiuruo pressed her hand over Chong You’s trembling one, her long lashes fluttering. “Senior Sister, I am not repeating a mistake.”

“But… you…” Chong You gripped the Warm Jade comb. “This might just be another chessboard, another trap set by the Sovereign. Those in high positions are heartless. I cannot watch you jump into the fire again.”

“Senior Sister, don’t worry. It won’t happen. I am about to be free,” Yin Jiuruo said, glancing at a green bundle nearby. It was filled with every item she owned that carried her scent. Not a single thing was left behind.

“What do you mean?”

“Senior Sister, can you help me dig up the parasol flower wine in the yard?” Yin Jiuruo said softly, looking at her joyful reflection in the bronze mirror.

“Isn’t that wine meant to be drunk after the ceremony?”

“Senior Sister, just help me dig it up.”

Seeing Yin Jiuruo’s calm composure, Chong You didn’t ask further and did as she was told. When she returned, she continued, “Jiuruo, will the Sovereign truly treat you well?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Yin Jiuruo replied with a smile, changing the subject. “Senior Sister, did you read the letter A-Yin gave you?”

“I… I did,” Chong You blushed slightly. The language used by the Nine-Tailed Fox of Qingqiu was far too bold, and her way of expressing affection was quite unusual. “She invited me to stay in Qingqiu for a while.”

“Will you go?”

Chong You laughed self-deprecatingly. “It might be a way to escape Feng Qi.”

“Senior Sister,” Yin Jiuruo instructed solemnly, her pale face full of sincerity, “if you go to Qingqiu, we will definitely meet again.”

“Why are you so sure? Unless you…”

A woman in red wedding robes stood at the wooden door. Her face was peerless, her dark hair piled high—she was a vision of absolute grace.

“Sovereign,” Chong You greeted her out of habit. “You’ve come.”

“Chong You, your breathing is stagnant and your spiritual power is depleted. You haven’t taken the medicine Feng Qi gave you,” Fu Qing’s voice was calm and steady, but her wandering gaze kept settling on Yin Jiuruo.

“The Sovereign sees all. I no longer wish to have any connection with Feng Qi, so naturally, I will not take her medicine.”

“I have refined a medicine for you. Take it with you when you leave.”

Chong You was stunned. This was the first time Fu Qing had shown such “human” warmth. It wasn’t that Fu Qing was cruel, but she was usually indifferent to all things, believing everything had a set destiny. Few people ever received such personal care or a direct gift of medicine.

“Yes, thank you, Sovereign,” Chong You took the jade bottle and tactfully exited the room.

Fu Qing looked at the serene Yin Jiuruo. Before she could think of what to say, she heard the girl’s low voice.

“Thank you for treating Senior Sister Chong You,” Yin Jiuruo smiled at her.

This time, it was Fu Qing’s turn to daze. She couldn’t remember the last time Yin Jiuruo had smiled so sincerely. It felt as if the girl had never smiled this happily because of her.

She wanted to say more, but the Crane Boy ran in frantically. “Sovereign! Young Master Shen of the Ruyi Sect has arrived to claim the bride!”

“Claim the bride?” Fu Qing’s lashes half-closed, completely confused.

“They say today is the wedding day of you and Young Master Shen…” The Crane Boy scratched his head. “Young Master Shen sent the betrothal gifts last time.”

“I… do not recall this.”

The Crane Boy shook his head inwardly. That’s because you were too busy ‘looking after’ the Little Mistress to care about anyone else.

“Fine. I will go explain it to her personally. This is a good time to officially break the engagement.” Fu Qing walked over to Yin Jiuruo, her eyes full of tenderness. “Xiao Jiu, wait for me. When I return, we will marry.”

“Alright, Master. I will wait for you,” Yin Jiuruo laughed joyfully. “I will wait for you forever.”

Fu Qing took two steps, then suddenly turned back. She knelt before Yin Jiuruo and pulled out a simple red thread, tying it around Yin Jiuruo’s pinky finger.

“What is this for?”

“The day we went to see the lanterns, I saw a newlywed couple with a red thread like this around their fingers,” Fu Qing said, her voice hiding a trace of bashfulness. “I thought… a few more rituals wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yes, it won’t hurt. Master, go and come back quickly,” Yin Jiuruo said, looking at Fu Qing with a final, pious devotion. “I… really want to marry you.”

Fu Qing’s heart felt strangely empty for a moment, whether from joy or fear she did not know. She squeezed Yin Jiuruo’s hand. “Xiao Jiu, just wait a moment for me.”

As soon as Fu Qing left, Yin Jiuruo looked down at the red thread and gave a cold, hollow laugh.

Outside the gates of the Canglan Sect, the trees were lush. The wedding procession from the Ruyi Sect formed a long, dazzling red line. When she saw Fu Qing arriving on her sword, dressed in a wedding gown, Shen Cangli’s heart finally settled.

“Chang Fan! I’ve come to take you back to the Ruyi Sect to marry.”

“I have made a mistake,” Fu Qing replied from the air, looking down.

“Chang Fan? What… what do you mean?”

“I apologize. Before I was ready to ascend, I could not directly refuse the marriage. Now that my ascension is imminent… I am sorry to have given you false hope.”

Shen Cangli was horrified. Since birth, she had known of her engagement to Fu Qing; it felt like something ordained by Heaven and Earth. How could there be a mistake? “But if you aren’t marrying me, why are you wearing a wedding gown? Stop joking.”

Fu Qing’s gaze drifted, her voice ethereal. “I am going to marry Xiao Jiu.”

The world went silent. The red of Shen Cangli’s clothes seemed to dim. She could not believe what she was hearing. “Chang Fan! Are you mad? Do you love her? You fell in love with a… a…” She covered her face and roared, falling to her knees and repeating the words over and over.

“I love her. I only want to love her,” Fu Qing said, a smile appearing as she spoke. She wanted to throw away her Daoist heart and the shackles she had carried since birth.

Shen Cangli could say nothing. Finally, she screamed “You’re mad! You’re mad!” until a heaven-burning fire ignited on the highest peak of the Canglan Sect.

It was Nether Ghost Fire. Once lit, it would not extinguish until it had consumed everything.

From the air, Fu Qing saw it immediately. Hexue Peak was on fire… Xiao Jiu. Nether Ghost Fire belonged to the Reincarnation Hell; it was a fire lit by Xiao Jiu. In the red flames, Hexue Peak looked like a withering plant.

Fu Qing teleported back instantly. There, she saw Yin Jiuruo, dressed in her wedding robes, sitting amidst the towering inferno.

“Xiao Jiu! What are you doing?”

The warmth of their intense union from the night before still seemed to linger on the woman’s lips—hot and sweet. Every night, Xiao Jiu had kissed her so deeply and wanted her so much. Why? Hadn’t they agreed to marry? Couldn’t they be together forever?

The Nether Ghost Fire grew larger before Fu Qing. The snow of Hexue Peak burned in the fire, evaporating into white steam. She rushed into the flames, trying to extinguish them with the Chishuang Sword, but she could only hear the sword let out a helpless shriek. The fire instantly stripped away her flesh, blood splattering onto the wedding gown she had so carefully sewn.

“Master, you’ve come,” Yin Jiuruo’s voice was as sweet as a lover’s whisper. She saw the woman’s cherry-red lips, carrying a tragic beauty on the brink of death.

But the person who was truly about to be free was herself. This woman always wanted to erase her memories, thinking she would be happier in a fake world. But she refused. She would rather die by the sword of truth than live in a swamp of lies.

“Xiao Jiu, why?” Fu Qing knelt in the fire, desperately trying to reach Yin Jiuruo. But she could not grab the girl, not even a corner of her robe. “Didn’t you say you would wait for me? Weren’t we going to marry? How can you… leave me again?” The woman was on the verge of wailing, yet she stubbornly pushed forward, trying to reverse it all.

The rolling flames of the Nether Ghost Fire burned through the three realms. Light descended from the heavens. Yin Jiuruo sat amidst the fire and raised a cup to Fu Qing. It was the parasol flower wine they had buried together. The liquid poured from the white jade cup, beautiful and lonely, until the flames swallowed it.

In the soaring fire, Yin Jiuruo’s lips curled into a smile. Wearing the gown Fu Qing had sewn by hand, she looked like a burning puppet. Black tears flowed from her eyes, which had been scorched into a darker void.

The puppet turned to ash, flying toward, Freedom.

“Master, I’m giving it back. I don’t want it anymore.”

The red thread around her pinky finger drifted toward Fu Qing in the wind. Yin Jiuruo threw her head back and laughed. She didn’t want Fu Qing anymore. Not her love, not her person, not her pity. She wanted nothing at all. When a person has nothing left to care about, they become indestructible. If one does not fear death, they can become a desperate fugitive for the sake of freedom.

The flames filled Fu Qing’s ink-dark eyes. Her inner world collapsed completely, as if she had fallen from a high throne into the dust. When she had enacted the Marriage True Law, she had gone against heaven to borrow divine power. And now in such a short time, there was no other way. Unless she ascended to godhood right this instant but it was too late.

Too late.

She was in despair, and within that despair was a deep, thick remorse. Why could time not stop? Why could Yin and Yang not be reversed? She felt such hate, but what could she hate? This hatred was the most painful emotion in the world, and she could blame no one. Because the culprit behind it all was herself.

The red thread turned to ash before it could even reach the woman.

“This is good,” Yin Jiuruo said, closing her eyes. The fire turned her to ash as well, her carbonized face looking like a demon’s. She seemed to be crying, yet also laughing.

Fu Qing knelt in the fire, her three thousand strands of black hair turning white in an instant, fluttering in the wind. A blood-red line cracked open between her brows, vivid and beautiful. Her noble, cold face now looked more like a demon’s than any demon ever could.

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