The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 5

Yin Jiuruo’s heart skipped a beat. Fu Qing’s tone was always calm and measured, serene as deep water, as if nothing in the world could unsettle her.

“Why take off my clothes?” Yin Jiuruo blinked rapidly. Though the two had shared many intimate moments during their spiritual communion in the Linghai, this was the first time they found themselves alone in the dead of night, just the two of them.

Perhaps annoyed by Yin Jiuruo’s incessant questions, Fu Qing’s expression darkened slightly. With a graceful wave of her jade-like hand, Yin Jiuruo was left wearing only her undergarments.

Before Yin Jiuruo could even process what had happened, Fu Qing had already begun pulling open her inner robe. Her fingers dipped into a pale pink ointment and gently smoothed it over the faint scars on Yin Jiuruo’s slender, pale neck marks left from the bloodletting she had endured in prison.

“You’re applying medicine for me?”

The ointment felt cool against her skin, its bitter medicinal scent mingling with the woman’s sweet yet icy fragrance, seeping into every pore of Yin Jiuruo’s body.

Because of their height difference, when Yin Jiuruo lowered her head again, she nearly bumped into the elegantly embroidered mountain peaks adorning Fu Qing’s silver-threaded white robes.

Instinctively, she stepped back. Beyond mere embarrassment, a strange emotion coursed through her veins, leaving her chest inexplicably warm.

“Don’t move. This medicine can only alleviate the scars’ erosion on your body. Later, I will prepare a medicinal bath to treat them completely.”

“A medicinal bath?”

Fu Qing’s words were brief, offering no further explanation. “Mm.”

Before Yin Jiuruo could ask more, Fu Qing retrieved a long robe from her storage pouch crafted from fine silk, its sleeves embroidered with feather-like threads, simple yet elegant in design.

In the blink of an eye, Fu Qing had helped Yin Jiuruo change into the new robe. The slender, delicate girl now stood in green robes, her dark hair cascading down, giving her an almost ethereal, celestial air.

“The fit is perfect. No alterations needed,” Fu Qing remarked, her phoenix eyes lifting slightly as if pleased.

Perfect was an understatement, it fit as though tailored precisely for her. The person who made this must have an incredibly sharp eye to get the measurements so exact without even taking them.

Wait a minute, Yin Jiuruo looked up, her clear eyes fixed on Fu Qing. “Did you make this robe for me, Daoist Master?”

“Mm,” Fu Qing acknowledged, as if it were the most trivial matter. “It’s late. You should rest.”

“Oh, right.” Still bewildered, Yin Jiuruo obediently climbed into bed and pulled up the covers before realizing, why was she so quick to follow Fu Qing’s orders?

And why was Fu Qing suddenly tending to her wounds and making clothes for her?

This was the kind of thing that could easily lead to misunderstandings.

She abruptly sat up, wanting to demand an explanation from Fu Qing.

But in the quiet, dilapidated tiled house, Fu Qing sat with her eyes slightly closed, her majestic robes radiating solemnity and authority, her presence flawless as if carved from ice and snow, already deep in meditation.

After hesitating for a long while, Yin Jiuruo tossed and turned restlessly until she heard the Daoist Master’s voice, light as drifting clouds.

“What is it?”

The sudden question threw Yin Jiuruo into disarray, and she nearly blurted out, *Why did you insist on dual cultivation with me, * No, wait! “Why did you make clothes for me, Daoist Master?”

“I intend to take you as my disciple.”

Fu Qing sat with poised elegance, her long lashes lifting slightly. Her patient tone carried a hint of divine benevolence, as if bestowing heavenly grace.

Outside the wooden window, icicles hanging from the eaves dripped melting snow, one drop at a time. The moonlight on the snow illuminated the misty confusion in Yin Jiuruo’s eyes.

“If you are unwilling, you may voice your objections. If they are reasonable, I will consider them.”

Fu Qing’s words sounded considerate and gentle, but paired with her frosty, inscrutable demeanor, Yin Jiuruo’s heart remained chilled.

She rose and walked to the window. So, it was about taking her as a disciple. A flicker of joy stirred within her, but it was quickly overshadowed by an inexplicable sense of loss.

Water droplets hung from the eaves, and she childishly blew on them, sending the snowflakes scattering in a flurry of white and crystal-clear beauty. Beyond them lay the peach blossom town, draped in a pristine white robe stretching for miles.

“Daoist Venerable, I…”

Fu Qing watched this scene, a fleeting smile touching the corners of her lips. “You don’t wish to cultivate immortality?”

“I do, but…” Yin Jiuruo pressed her lips together. Of course, she wanted to cultivate immortality. Leaving aside the matter of her lost memories and the dark energy swirling in her spiritual apertures from absorbing spirit stones, the Nine Provinces revered strength above all, the weak were destined to suffer.

To avoid suffering, one had to become strong, and cultivating immortality was undoubtedly the best path.

Besides, becoming Fu Qing’s disciple would mean seeing her every day, wouldn’t it? Catching herself entertaining such a dangerous thought, Yin Jiuruo quickly bit her own lip.

“But what?” Fu Qing, intrigued, took out an ancient teacup and poured a cup of celestial dew, savoring it slowly.

The drowsy little fire spirit, catching the scent of the dew, wobbled over to the table and fawned over her ingratiatingly. Taking pity, Fu Qing dipped a finger into the dew and fed it to the creature.

Shooting a glare at the traitorous fire spirit, Yin Jiuruo cleared her throat. “Fu Qing, Daoist Venerable Chang Fan, you may not know this, but my spiritual apertures remain unopened, so naturally, I cannot cultivate immortality. If I were to become your disciple yet remain a useless waste, wouldn’t that tarnish your reputation?”

“Is there more?”

Yin Jiuruo stared at Fu Qing’s serene expression, thinking, Isn’t that enough?

In the past, when cultivation sects came recruiting disciples, she and Feng Qi had gone to join the excitement. But the moment they tested her and found all seven of her spiritual apertures sealed shut, they immediately sent her away.

Gritting her teeth, she rephrased her memory loss. “I also have a hidden ailment, my mind is often unclear, and I can’t remember things.”

“There’s no need for concern. I am nearly omniscient. The dark energy in your spiritual apertures stems from absorbing spirit stones and is not difficult to dispel. As for your so-called hidden ailment, it will heal naturally once you cultivate your soul.”

Yin Jiuruo: “…” But my spiritual apertures are still closed. She emphasized again, though what truly weighed on her heart were those vague, budding emotions she harbored for Fu Qing.

“It’s of no consequence, a trivial matter.”

Right. Fu Qing had casually granted the fire spirit five hundred years of lifespan opening a spiritual aperture was indeed a trivial matter for her. Yin Jiuruo lowered her head again. “I have scars on my face. My appearance is frightening.”

It was said that disciples of immortal sects needed to be fair of face.

Fu Qing, who had just closed her eyes, opened them again and studied Yin Jiuruo intently. The girl’s peach-blossom eyes should have been alluring and charming, but their pure black hue dulled much of their warmth, hiding a trace of melancholy.

With quiet certainty, she said, “As long as I find you pleasing, that is enough.”

Yin Jiuruo could hear her own heart pounding like a drum. Fu Qing nudged her onto the bed, seemingly intending to share it with her.

In the middle of the night, she rose and gazed at Fu Qing’s ethereal, coolly elegant features, carefully tucking the woman’s blanket around her.

The next day, as dawn was about to break, a row of cultivators in black and moon-white robes stood respectfully outside the courtyard gate.

Feng Qi, stepping out to wash up, was startled and rushed to Yin Jiuruo’s room in a panic only to be shocked again upon seeing Fu Qing sitting calmly inside.

“Jiu-Jiuruo, you’re so stingy, how do you have new clothes?”

As Feng Qi reached out to touch the garment, Yin Jiuruo dodged.

“What’s the matter? Are you that protective of your clothes? Did your sweetheart give them to you?”

Flustered and defensive, Yin Jiuruo snapped, “Your hands are filthy, what if you ruin them?”

She caught Fu Qing’s faint glance in her direction and immediately grew sheepish. “Daoist Venerable, don’t listen to her nonsense.”

“If you have no pressing matters, I shall take you back to the sect today. How does that sound?” Fu Qing straightened her collar and, holding an umbrella, strolled to the door with an air of dignified composure.

The daylight was scattered, the air chilly yet hinting at warmth. Yin Jiuruo stared blankly for a moment before snapping back to reality and asking:

“Daoist Venerable, may Feng Qi also join the sect with me?”

Fu Qing lowered her gaze. “If she wishes, it can be arranged.”

With that, she stepped outside the courtyard gate, leaving the two friends to their own space.

From outside, the excited voices of sect disciples could be heard, calling out “Venerable One” with unmistakable reverence and admiration.

Inside the house, Feng Qi, still processing the information, stammered in disbelief, “We’re going to cultivate immortality? At the Canglan Sect?”

“Yes, and it seems we’ll be leaving soon,” Yin Jiuruo replied, watching the bustling crowd outside the courtyard, awed by the disciples’ devotion to Fu Qing.

“But,” Feng Qi hesitated, unsure whether this was a stroke of luck or some hidden scheme, “are we really going to the Canglan Sect?”

“We both have reasons to cultivate immortality, and we both want to, don’t we? You told me you wanted to restore the glory of the Zhuanxu Clan.”

“But I’m a little scared,” Feng Qi said, her voice trembling with unshed tears.

Yin Jiuruo understood Feng Qi’s fear. They had grown accustomed to a life of wandering and dependence, where every change could bring disaster.

Thinking of her own strange affliction the recurring memory loss, the dark energy at her spiritual core, and the faint, unspoken emotions Yin Jiuruo said:

“With my caution and your flattery, we’ll surely thrive there.”

Feng Qi stifled her tears. “No need to call it flattery. You’ve already charmed that beautiful Daoist Venerable with a fiancée, how could I possibly out-flatter you?”

Yin Jiuruo frowned. “You have such a sharp tongue.”

Ah, she had nearly forgotten, Fu Qing was betrothed.

“People just can’t handle the truth, can they?” Feng Qi smirked before growing serious again. “Then you and I will go to the Canglan Sect together, cultivate immortality, make our names known, and defy fate itself.”

“Defy fate,” Yin Jiuruo repeated, her dark eyes hardening with resolve.

Outside the snow-covered courtyard gate, the two emerged with their bundles. The snow-robed Daoist Venerable nodded slightly and summoned a sandalwood spirit boat with a wave of her hand, signaling all the disciples to board.

Some of the disciples had yet to master sword flight, and the chance to ride the Venerable One’s spirit boat left them too excited to question why Yin Jiuruo and the others were joining them. They stumbled over themselves, nearly falling off in their eagerness.

As the spirit boat soared into the clouds, the icy air was tempered by Fu Qing’s spiritual power, wrapping around them like a warm current. Some of the weaker disciples experienced immediate breakthroughs, their cultivation advancing significantly.

In the quiet chamber of the spirit boat, Fu Qing had Yin Jiuruo and Feng Qi sit down. Xiao Huo perched happily on Yin Jiuruo’s shoulder, nudging her to feed it celestial dew, a special gift from Fu Qing for its care.

Yet, given Xiao Huo’s obvious affection for Fu Qing, it was hard to tell who its true master was.

“Venerable One, may I ask who these two young friends are?” A graceful woman in moon-white robes entered respectfully, her voice soft and melodious.

“Chong You, they will soon join the sect,” Fu Qing explained briefly to the head disciple of the Canglan Sect’s leader.

But she offered no further details no reasons for their admission, no mention of their potential.

The woman named Chongyou was taken aback for a moment before quickly regaining her composure. The revered one had always been indifferent and detached, cultivating the Path of Emotionlessness, which emphasized following one’s heart and nature unrestrained and desireless, neither suppressing nor indulging.

If someone caught her eye, she would take them as a disciple. It was just unfortunate that others hadn’t had such an opportunity.

“Both of you, my name is Chongyou, and I will soon be your senior sister. If you need anything, feel free to tell me,” Chongyou smiled warmly at the two, her demeanor gentle and graceful. “The Canglan Sect is located on Jixing Mountain, where snow lingers year-round. I imagine you’ll find the climate quite familiar.”

Yin Jiuruo and Feng Qi quickly stood up to thank their future senior sister. Chongyou then brought them some immortal fruits and pastries before quietly exiting the room.

The spirit vessel sped through the skies, covering thousands of miles in the blink of an eye.

As they prepared to disembark, Feng Qi tugged at Yin Jiuruo’s sleeve and whispered, “Do you think we’ll ever return to Peach Blossom Town? I really liked the braised meat from the corner stall.”

Jixing Mountain was shrouded in mist, its verdant peaks shimmering with an ethereal glow. Yin Jiuruo glanced back at the distant horizon they could no longer see and nodded. “We will.”

Fu Qing cast a fleeting glance at the two of them. An invisible spiritual mist coiled around their waists, and the three of them leaped off the spirit vessel together, followed closely by the other disciples.

On the Star-Welcoming Platform paved with jade bricks atop Jixing Mountain, rows of disciples knelt in unison, their voices ringing out clearly:

“We welcome the revered one back to the sect.”

Fu Qing was unfazed by such formalities. Personally, she disliked elaborate rituals, but the sect leader often insisted that propriety must be upheld, lest disrespect take root over time. Thus, she acquiesced to his wishes.

From the sea of disciples emerged an elderly man with an immortal aura and a flowing white beard, the sect leader of Canglan Sect. He smiled and said,

“Revered one, you’ve been away for three months, vanquishing demons and eliminating evils, amassing countless merits. Other sects, upon hearing of your return, have sent modest gifts for your perusal.”

“Mm, have them delivered to Crane Snow Peak,” Fu Qing replied. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to such social conventions neither refusing nor showing enthusiasm, simply accepting them.

Noticing the two plainly dressed mortals trailing behind the white-robed Daoist, the sect leader hesitated before finally asking,

“Revered one, who might these two young friends be?”

The white jade paper umbrella in Fu Qing’s hand dissipated into nothingness, returning to her palm. She brushed the snow from Yin Jiuruo’s shoulder and stated plainly,

“I will take her as my personal disciple. The other may join under the sect leader or one of the elders.”

Her voice, infused with profound spiritual power, carried effortlessly to the thousands of disciples present. A collective gasp of shock rippled through the crowd.

For a thousand years, the revered one had never taken a disciple. Yet after just a few months of travel, she had chosen to accept an ordinary mortal of unknown origins as her student.

Every one of them had been meticulously selected, their talents one in ten thousand, before earning the privilege of joining the sect.

How could this frail, unremarkable girl devoid of any discernible cultivation aptitude and even disfigured suddenly become the revered one’s personal disciple?

Yes, this person was not only utterly unremarkable but almost repulsive in appearance.

Yin Jiuruo felt the piercing gazes of thousands upon her. She bit her lip and subtly met each one in turn.

Amidst the discontent and envy of the crowd, the sect leader frowned and tactfully suggested, “Revered one, might this decision be somewhat unwise? This young friend’s aptitude hardly seems sufficient to become your disciple.”

“I find her sufficient,” Fu Qing replied, her impassive face finally showing a trace of confusion as she turned to Yin Jiuruo. “Tell me your name.”

The disciples erupted in murmurs, how disrespectful of this girl! The revered one was willing to take her as a personal disciple, yet she hadn’t even offered her name earlier.

Yin Jiuruo sighed inwardly and obediently replied, “Yin Jiuruo. My name is Yin Jiuruo.”

Amid the wind and snow, Fu Qing’s ink-black hair fluttered, her beauty striking. “Xiao Jiu, would you be willing to become this venerable one’s disciple?”

Under the woman’s seemingly indifferent yet solemn gaze, Yin Jiuruo had no choice. “I am willing.”

The sect leader, watching this “master and disciple” pair in perfect sync, hurriedly intervened:

“Esteemed one, not only is this girl’s aptitude lacking, but her appearance is also unrefined and rather unsightly. Accepting her may tarnish your esteemed reputation. We implore you to reconsider.”

He had scrutinized Yin Jiuruo carefully frail in build, her face marred with blemishes. Though her peach-blossom eyes were clear, they were paired with pupils so dark and deep they seemed almost eerie, giving off a cold and sinister aura.

“This venerable one finds Xiao Jiu’s features pure and her beauty unparalleled. She is merely young once she matures, she will grow even more radiant.”

The sect leader: “…”

He dared not say whether the esteemed one’s eyesight was failing.

“Any further objections?” Fu Qing’s frosty gaze swept over the crowd.

“N-none,” came the stammered reply. Even if they had any, they wouldn’t dare voice them now.

“Excellent. Xiao Jiu, accompany this venerable one to Crane Snow Peak. First, I shall assist you in bathing.”

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