The Frost Beneath Her Veil - Chapter 8

Guilty as if caught red-handed, Yin Jiuruo’s mind went blank with a sudden “buzz,” and the dishes in her hands nearly slipped from her grasp.

With fair fingers overlapping hers, Fu Qing helped steady the bowl. In that moment, the two stood exceptionally close.

“Yes, I have prepared spiritual sweet rice balls in fermented wine.”

Fu Qing lowered her eyes, carefully observing the fragrant, pale-red soup in Yin Jiuruo’s hands, and praised, “Xiao Jiu, you have made this soup quite well.”

She then added with a soft sigh, “It has been three months since we last met; you have grown taller.”

Three months ago, Yin Jiuruo barely reached Fu Qing’s lips; now, she had subtly surpassed her brow line.

Fu Qing naturally brushed aside the stray hairs at Yin Jiuruo’s temples. Her young disciple had not only grown taller, but her phoenix eyes were curved and clear, her nose bridge was elegant, and her lips were like flower petals. Even the dark red markings on her skin lent her a unique, exotic charm.

In a few years, she will surely blossom into an even greater beauty. My eye for potential was indeed correct, Fu Qing thought.

Being scrutinized so intently and single-mindedly by Fu Qing made Yin Jiuruo’s heart skip a beat, and a heat rose unbidden across her face and body.

However, after a few breaths, Fu Qing stepped back and sat indifferently behind her desk. The intimate warmth from a moment ago vanished like a wisp of cloud scattered by the wind.

Yin Jiuruo looked on with a slightly dazed expression at the cold, solemn figure of Venerable Master Chang Fan seated above.

Just then, a mechanical penguin waddled in slowly. Atop its head was a stack of pale yellow papers resembling account books, ancient yet shimmering with light.

“Your Eminence,” the penguin’s voice was soft and muffled, “the first stack contains the accounts of Hexue Peak from the past century. The second stack is the projected budget for the Little Master’s cultivation needs. Please review them.”

Fu Qing flipped through them nonchalantly. “Very good. Xiao Jiu, starting tomorrow, I shall personally instruct you in your cultivation. You may choose one or two auxiliary paths according to your preference, such as music, swordcraft, talismans, alchemy, or arrays.”

“Your Eminence, there is also the apprenticeship ceremony,” the penguin reminded her in a small voice.

Hearing this, Fu Qing frowned but replied patiently, “I have always disliked tedious formalities, but the ceremony for taking Xiao Jiu as my disciple must not be handled carelessly. Go discuss it with the Sect Master. Tell him that my family wealth is vast and there is no need to be frugal. The ceremony must be grand, and all sects should be invited to offer their congratulations.”

“The entire sect will surely spend months preparing gifts and the ceremony for the Little Master,” the penguin said, producing a gold-and-jade brush from nowhere and scribbling down Fu Qing’s requirements.

As master and servant went back and forth, Yin Jiuruo stood by dumbfounded, unable to get a word in.

So, the penguin managed the finances, the black bear handled food and cleaning, and everything else fell to the cranes—she finally understood the hierarchy.

“Won’t it be too expensive?” she asked weakly.

The penguin stopped writing, its round eyes rolling. “Not at all. Your Eminence’s assets are immense. Little Master, please put your mind at ease and just focus on spending. Besides, viewing worldly possessions with detachment is beneficial to one’s cultivation.”

Who exactly is the one failing to be detached here, insisting on a grand ceremony? Yin Jiuruo felt powerless to argue further and could only watch as the penguin waddled out again.

On the other side, Fu Qing stroked the emerald-green jade pendant in her hand. After a long moment of contemplation, she noticed Yin Jiuruo still standing there. “Xiao Jiu, is there something else?”

Yin Jiuruo’s gaze drifted. That portrait of her was right before their eyes; she couldn’t understand how Fu Qing could remain so calm and composed.

Normally, the person who secretly paints someone else should be the one feeling nervous and guilty.

Yet, Fu Qing’s expression remained holy and compassionate, showing no sign of anything unusual.

“It’s just… why do you have a portrait of me?”

Yin Jiuruo breathed a long sigh of relief, then waited with bated breath for Fu Qing’s answer.

Outside, a bright moon flickered behind the clouds like a pearl caught in silk. After an anxious wait, she heard Fu Qing say calmly:

“I painted it.”

Grasping what remained of her courage, Yin Jiuruo continued, “Why did you paint me?”

“When I behold a beautiful sight, I paint it.”

In the end, Yin Jiuruo left the room with a flushed face. She did not see Fu Qing wave her sleeve, causing the painting to dissolve into nothingness.

It was merely an illusion bestowed upon her.

The next day, Yin Jiuruo rose early and went to a vast, open area on the other side of Hexue Peak called the Ganlu Terrace—this was where Fu Qing would teach her.

The snow on the white peaks fell like feathers, and in the distance, a grove of red plums bloomed like rouge dots on snow.

Arriving early, Yin Jiuruo stood on the terrace where the air was so cold her breath turned to ice.

From a distance, she caught sight of Fu Qing moving through the plum blossoms. Fu Qing snapped off a red plum branch, held it in her palm, and paced in deep thought.

In truth, the flower did not suit her. The blossoms were gaudy and vivid, while the woman was pure and ethereal—a celestial beauty. That eye-piercing, blood-red color seemed like the hidden desires and mundane heart mentioned in the scriptures.

Fu Qing also noticed Yin Jiuruo. She used a shrinking-earth technique, reaching her in a single step. “To be sincere in seeking immortality is very good.”

As she spoke, the woman gently brushed her sleeve and produced the emerald-green double-fish jade pendant from the day before. She detached one half of the pendant and handed it to Yin Jiuruo.

“A gift between master and disciple. This jade can be transformed into your life-bound artifact and also serve as a tracking device. As long as you hold it, you will be able to find me, no matter how far you go.”

The jade felt moist and smooth in her hand, as if it held the other woman’s body heat.

Yin Jiuruo carefully tucked it away against her person. Her heart throbbed like a restless deer; she hesitated, unable to speak. In the mortal world, a jade pendant split in two was a token of betrothal.

Perhaps cultivators who lived beyond the red dust did not care for such trifles.

Fu Qing did not pry into Yin Jiuruo’s thoughts. With a solemn expression, she focused on the lesson.

“You likely know that cultivating the soul is the highest path. As my disciple, Xiao Jiu, you will naturally prioritize the cultivation of your soul.”

“But I shouldn’t be able to cultivate, right?” Yin Jiuruo remembered the Sect Master saying her aptitude was poor.

Fu Qing lowered her eyes and smiled faintly; she was hauntingly beautiful. “If I say you can, you can.”

Yin Jiuruo was astonished. Is this the power of a Great One who has attained the Dao? Defying heaven was as easy as picking a flower.

She knew Fu Qing was not exaggerating or joking. For three months, she had done nothing but drink the wind and dew on Hexue Peak, breathing in the essence of the moon.

Nourished by Fu Qing’s spiritual energy, her seven tightly closed spiritual apertures had all opened.

“Those who cultivate the soul must first understand one thing,” Fu Qing signaled Yin Jiuruo to step forward.

The woman’s red lips parted, her voice sounding like gold striking jade.

“Peer into the Heavenly Dao; let the heart be free of obsession.”

As the words fell, all things in the world seemed as small as dust. The surroundings became holy and stainless, as if Brahma flowers were blooming and divine light was filling the sky.

Yin Jiuruo’s soul was shaken. In an instant, it felt as though all the phenomena of the mortal world flowed through her eyes before returning to nothingness.

The Dao possesses sentiment, yet remains emotionless.

Once Yin Jiuruo calmed down, Fu Qing guided her to sit cross-legged.

“I practice the Way of Heartlessness. Whether you choose to follow it is up to your own heart.”

“The Way of Heartlessness,” Yin Jiuruo murmured after her. “What is the Way of Heartlessness?”

“Everyone’s Way of Heartlessness is different. Some sever all emotions and thoughts; some possess a universal love for the world; some spend their lives in regret and choose to sit and forget the red dust.”

Yin Jiuruo listened with trepidation—not because of the words themselves, but because of the impartial, measured warmth in Fu Qing’s eyes.

To have sentiment everywhere is to have no sentiment at all.

“I cannot practice it,” she said with sudden certainty. She was someone tied to appearances, someone who craved the mortal world. She loved good food and wine, loved making money, and loved her friends. She could not treat every single thing with the same cold equality.

Moreover, she faintly felt herself sliding toward an abyss, yet she did not want to stop.

“Cultivation is the contemplation of the Dao. Emotional entanglements have existed since ancient times; if you can see through them, the Great Dao is achieved.”

“I… I probably won’t be able to see through them.”

There seemed to be a faint sigh. Fu Qing stood tall and pure, and with a casual point of her finger, countless precious swords, pills, musical instruments, and other spiritual artifacts appeared on the Ganlu Terrace.

“These are a small part of my collection. Go pick a few you like,” the white-clad Daoist Master waved her hand, and even more treasures appeared. “Once you have refined your life-bound artifact, that jade pendant will transform. Until then, choose some items that catch your eye for fun.”

Looking at the glittering, majestic artifacts filling the Ganlu Terrace, Yin Jiuruo finally had a direct understanding of what Fu Qing meant by having “vast family wealth.”

On elegant sword racks, hundreds of sharp, ancient swords hummed softly, their clear light flowing like water.

Beyond that, there were sabers, spears, axes, and halberds—every manner of immortal weapon imaginable.

Yin Jiuruo was dazzled. The sheer number of celestial-grade pills, talismans, and arrays drew down heavenly thunder. Thunderclouds gathered with flickering lightning until Fu Qing brushed them away with a wave of her hand.

At that same moment, disciples throughout the Canglan Sect saw the terrifying tribulation clouds. Many assumed another elder or a genius disciple was breaking through to a new realm.

However, the clouds arrived with great momentum and vanished before striking, which was truly strange.

On the terrace, Yin Jiuruo hesitated no longer and chose a delicate, elegant guzheng (zither) as her cultivation instrument.

The strings were snow-white, seemingly made from the tail feathers of the ancient divine beast Bai Ze. The moment she touched it, the zither produced a heavenly melody. Clouds rose and snow swirled around her, as if the zither were responding to her.

“Xiao Jiu, this zither is named Bixie (Exorcist), you have chosen it?” Fu Qing showed a rare flicker of emotion, thinking to herself that it was just as she expected.

Immersed in the joy of resonating with the artifact, Yin Jiuruo did not notice Fu Qing’s reaction and said happily:

“Yes, I’ve chosen it.”

“Very well. You shall take the rest of these items as well.” Fu Qing summoned a storage bag, gathered the artifacts filling the terrace, and tossed it directly to Yin Jiuruo. “As a music cultivator, cultivating the soul makes it hardest to fall into a state of madness, yet also the easiest.”

Having grown accustomed to Fu Qing’s “generosity,” Yin Jiuruo stowed the bag and focused on her training.

“Why is a music cultivator both the hardest and easiest to fall into madness?”

Fu Qing’s long lashes lowered. She remained silent for a long time. “Xiao Jiu, in your future cultivation, I will always be by your side. I shall be the one to play the first piece on this zither for you.”

“Today, I will first teach you the methods of breathing, gathering spiritual energy, and circulating it through your meridians.”

A green jade paper umbrella suddenly opened, slowly rising into the air to block the mountain snow and draw in the pure, flowing spiritual energy of the world.

Fu Qing turned back to look at Yin Jiuruo, her black hair flowing and her robes white as frost.

“Come here. I will teach you.”

Yin Jiuruo walked toward her slowly. Fu Qing’s voice, which wasn’t exactly tender, echoed in her ears. Her heart stirred; she felt like she finally had a home.

But why is it Fu Qing? The Demon Lord said Fu Qing came to kill me.

Warmth and doubt flowed through her heart like a trickling stream, eventually forming a single question.

“Why are you so good to me?”

Just then, Fu Qing’s sect transmission device vibrated. From within came Shen Cangli’s intimate voice:

“Chang Fan, I heard from my father that you wish to discuss our wedding date with me?”

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