The Vicious Beauty Faked His Death Three Times [Transmigration] - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Setting the Trap

A hand pressed against the back of Lin Qinghan’s neck, and those eyes, which still held a trace of a smile, instantly turned cold.

A sharp pain shot through his neck, and Lin Qinghan raised his eyes to meet the other’s dark gaze, which was swirling with deep meaning.

“As long as you remember.”

With that, Ling Yanhe raised his hand and patted the hand resting on his lapel before turning around and heading toward the entrance of Tianhai Pavilion, leaving Lin Qinghan standing alone on the spot.

Lin Qinghan looked at Ling Yanhe’s back with displeasure. The stinging pain at the back of his neck had not dissipated, and the coldness brought by the other’s hand still clung to his skin, as if he were being gripped by a water ghost, making his spine feel somewhat chilly.

He felt rather irritable.

Lin Qinghan frowned, feeling somewhat confused by this sudden surge of emotion, but he didn’t think too deeply on it, assuming he simply detested Ling Yanhe so much that the touch had caused a bit of a stress response.

By the time the person at the door turned back to look at him, Lin Qinghan had already composed his expression and walked over quickly.

“One invitation allows only one person to enter.”

Emotionless words spat out from the mouth of the guard at the gate.

Lin Qinghan did not have an invitation; what Qi Bocang had given him was a command token. It seemed the other party did not want him to attend this auction as an ordinary guest and had even prepared a unique gift for him.

Looking into the guard’s stark black-and-white, emotionless eyes, Lin Qinghan removed the brocade pouch hanging at his waist, took out the token, and handed it to the guard.

When the wooden token fell into the guard’s rough palm, the man lowered his head somewhat stiffly, as if confirming the carvings on the wood.

Lin Qinghan narrowed his eyes, watching the guard’s movements.

“Would the two young masters please go to the side room to change your clothes and wash away the dust of the journey before entering Tianhai Pavilion?”

The guard looked up and handed the token back to Lin Qinghan, a hint of a flattering smile appearing on his face.

Lin Qinghan glanced at him and slightly arched an eyebrow, then took the token and looked up at Ling Yanhe.

Ling Yanhe looked down at him but said nothing.

A moment later, an enchanting woman walked over with a beaming smile. The thick scent of rouge and powder on her body wafted over Lin Qinghan with the wind.

“Young masters, this way please.”

The woman looked at Lin Qinghan, her eyes shy as if she dared not look too much. After saying this, she quickly turned around and hurriedly led the way for the two of them.

Lin Qinghan frowned, choked by the smell of rouge. Seeing the woman walking quickly ahead, he lifted his feet to follow.

Watching Lin Qinghan’s unromantic movements, Ling Yanhe slightly arched an eyebrow.

After the three had left, a light breeze blew. The guard at the door stiffened, his eyes becoming numb and hollow once again.

A tender pink flower petal drifted slowly through the air with the wind.

In an instant, it was sliced in two by a fine thread that appeared out of nowhere. The broken petals wobbled and fell to the ground, awaiting their fate of being trampled into the dust.

The woman led the two through a side door into Tianhai Pavilion and brought them to the entrance of a wing room.

Lin Qinghan’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at the single wing room. Surely he and Ling Yanhe weren’t expected to change clothes in the same room?

At this thought, Lin Qinghan could almost feel the inquisitive gaze projecting down from above his head, making his scalp feel a bit numb and reigniting the irritability he had previously suppressed.

Just as he was about to lose his patience and speak up to ask, the woman looked at Lin Qinghan shyly as if she had finally snapped out of it, whispering softly, “Young Master’s room is in the back. Please follow me a few steps further.”

Lin Qinghan turned and followed the woman away without the slightest hesitation; he had no desire to be alone with Ling Yanhe.

Before he could take two steps, something crawled onto his wrist.

Lin Qinghan stopped abruptly. He suddenly lifted his right hand and pulled his sleeve back slightly, only to see a length of white silk thread tied around his wrist.

The fine thread on his wrist seemed to sense his gaze as it pressed against his wrist affectionately, rubbing against him again and again. The wound on his wrist from before had not yet healed, and now the rubbing of that fine, thin thing elicited stings of pain.

Lin Qinghan’s gaze darkened. That fine thread felt like it had set a fire in his heart. He turned back to look at the culprit.

Ling Yanhe was standing at the door of the wing room, looking at him with a half-smile. It was somewhat dim inside Tianhai Pavilion, and the other’s shadow stretched long across the floor.

Lin Qinghan couldn’t see the other’s expression clearly, but he understood the meaning.

“Young Master?”

The woman looked back in confusion at the person who had stopped.

Lin Qinghan regained his composure. He reined in his expression, nodded to the woman, pulled his sleeve down, and followed behind her.

The other party was warning him.

But he refused to go along with Ling Yanhe’s wishes.

The woman led Lin Qinghan to the door of the wing room. It was her first time seeing such an exquisite person, and she was about to look up to say something to him when she met eyes that were terrifyingly cold. Her previous romantic feelings instantly evaporated.

She quickly lowered her head, a cold sweat breaking out across her back.

“This is the Young Master’s room. This humble girl shall take her leave.”

Lin Qinghan watched as the woman, who had been looking back at every step, now paled and hurried away with her head down. He felt a bit puzzled.

But soon, his gaze fell upon the wing room before him.

He wondered what Qi Bocang had prepared for him.

Lin Qinghan pushed open the door, and a rich floral fragrance rushed toward him, making him frown slightly.

The room was filled with the scent of Qi Bocang.

The furnishings inside were terrifyingly luxurious. Large rugs covered the floor, and on a table made of golden-thread Phoebe wood sat a bronze mirror and countless powders and rouges. A screen separated a red sandalwood canopy bed from a rack hanging with clothes, upon which a blooming osmanthus tree was embroidered.

The only thing that didn’t fit was a withered potted plant placed directly opposite the screen, looking completely out of place in the room.

Lin Qinghan closed the door. He bent down to remove his shoes and socks. His smooth, fair feet arched slightly, and his slender, rounded toes first stepped onto the fluffy carpet, making the lines of his ankles look even more fluid and elegant. Even the white rug was not half as fair as those feet.

He walked barefoot across the rug toward the clothes rack, the clear veins on his insteps faintly visible as he moved.

In the corner, green sprouts slowly began to grow on the withered branches of the potted plant that had its back to Lin Qinghan.

Lin Qinghan stopped before the clothes rack. He reached out his hand to brush over the garments hanging there, finally stopping at a voluminous red robe, which made his well-defined, slender, and clean hand look even more like lustrous, translucent white jade.

The green sprouts on the withered branches slowly unfurled due to his movements.

Lin Qinghan looked at the familiar red robe and let out a soft chuckle. His voice was naturally clear and pleasant, and now, holding a laugh, it added a touch of winding charm, sounding particularly distinct in the empty room.

He withdrew his hand and shed his outer garment with quick, nimble movements. Then, his actions gradually slowed. Through the screen, one could only vaguely see him resting a hand on his waist, that lean waist appearing and disappearing with his movements.

The green sprouts on the withered branches grew at high speed; in the blink of an eye, even flower buds had grown out.

Then, suddenly, the red robe on the rack was yanked and flew out, landing lightly on the potted plant in the corner, covering it completely.

Lin Qinghan quickly grabbed a set of black martial attire from the rack and put it on, then he directly pulled back the screen and walked toward that strange potted plant.

Looking at the withered branches squirming beneath the clothing, Lin Qinghan’s gaze became somewhat complex. He pressed down on the restless fine thread and slowly crouched down.

Looking at the withered branches that had suddenly stopped moving, he cleanly whipped the red robe off and flung it away. Before the red robe could even hit the floor, it began to burn in mid-air. Ashes drifted down, staining the white rug with a patch of filth.

Lin Qinghan looked at the withered branches with buds ready to bloom and suddenly revealed a smile. He reached out to touch a bud.

The bud seemed to feel something and pressed affectionately against Lin Qinghan’s fingertip.

Hiss.

Lin Qinghan’s fingertip was pricked. The bud greedily swallowed the drop of blood on his finger, then slowly bloomed to reveal golden petals.

Lin Qinghan smelled the familiar fragrance of osmanthus.

“Libertine.”

Lin Qinghan looked at the blooming osmanthus and cursed in a low voice.

Looking at the withered branches that still wanted to bloom, just as Lin Qinghan raised his hand to burn them with fire, the fine thread on his wrist suddenly unwound. Without giving him time to react, it directly sliced the osmanthus branch apart.

The severed branch withered instantly, and the blooming flowers fell to the ground, already dried up, making a crisp sound.

Having done all this, the fine thread returned obediently to his wrist, this time without even a hint of restlessness.

Lin Qinghan frowned at the sound, then suddenly his brow twitched, and a trace of a faint smile flashed in his eyes. He lifted his right hand and tapped twice beside the pot, the crisp sound ringing out again.

Knock, knock, knock.

A steady, unhurried knocking came from the door. Lin Qinghan slightly arched an eyebrow and stopped his movements. He stood up, looking at the mess in the room; his mood, on the contrary, felt much lighter.

He brushed the dust off his body and opened the door. A gust of wind met him, blowing away much of the heavy scent clinging to him.

Outside the room, Ling Yanhe stood before the door dressed in white. He held a folding fan in his hand and had his back to the dim yellow light, looking quite like a young master of a great clan.

If one ignored the inquisitive gaze he was projecting onto Lin Qinghan.

Lin Qinghan didn’t pay any mind to Ling Yanhe. He raised his hand to close the door and stood before it, stepping slightly away from Ling Yanhe, waiting for someone to come and lead them to the auction.

Ling Yanhe leaned against the railing in the corridor, looking down as he sized up Lin Qinghan. His gaze traveled down from the back of Lin Qinghan’s neck, pausing for a moment when it reached his waist.

The fine thread in his hand suddenly twitched as if wanting to escape his palm, but it was pressed back down, instantly going limp and draping over Ling Yanhe’s fingertips.

Sure enough, before the two of them had waited outside for long, a maid slowly approached.

“Would the two young masters please put on these masks and follow this servant to the auction?”

The maid curtsied slightly and held up the items in her hands toward them—two identical masks.

Lin Qinghan sized up the two masks. He slanted his eyes toward Ling Yanhe; seeing that the other made no move, he reached out, took a mask, and put it on his face.

Only after he had put it on did Ling Yanhe take the other mask.

Deathly suspicious bastard, Lin Qinghan cursed in his heart.

“This way, young masters.”

Lin Qinghan followed behind the maid. The previously narrow and cold corridor gradually widened, and the decor became increasingly luxurious.

The maid led them to the third floor, and Lin Qinghan’s brow furrowed instantly.

The third floor was incredibly noisy. People wearing the same masks as them were gathered together, exchanging words with laughter or exclamations. Even through the masks, Lin Qinghan felt he could see the expressions of greed and longing on their faces.

What made him wary was not this group of already somewhat neurotic people, but the demonic energy filling the room and the notice hanging at the entrance of the third floor.

It listed today’s auction exhibits—twelve items in total. The first eleven were magical artifacts, but the last one was written as a great demon with five hundred years of cultivation.

This great demon was the source of the chaos that would strike Tianhai Pavilion, giving Ling Yanhe the chance to obtain the Everspring Ivy.

“Can we go look at the exhibits?” Lin Qinghan suddenly asked.

Ling Yanhe, who had been reading the notice, turned his gaze toward Lin Qinghan upon hearing this.

“The two young masters are the Young Master’s honored guests, so of course you can,” the maid replied respectfully.

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Young Master, please follow me.”

Lin Qinghan took two steps forward, then suddenly stopped and turned back to look at Ling Yanhe. He slightly arched an eyebrow and smiled with a lift of his lips. “Young Master, won’t you come and look with me?”

Ling Yanhe raised his eyes to look at Lin Qinghan’s smiling eyes and that bold smile. He looked like a hunter enticing his prey into a trap.

Seeing the other party’s almost provocative gaze, Ling Yanhe met his eyes and suddenly took two steps forward.

The distance between them instantly closed.

“Very well.”

Lin Qinghan met his somewhat playful gaze. The deep voice, mixed with a hint of mockery, fell by his ear, lightly coaxing out the suppressed irritability in his heart along with an unyielding refusal to back down.

I really do still hate Ling Yanhe, Lin Qinghan thought.

Support