The Villainous Demon Lord’s Handbook for Success: Rebirth - Chapter 25

Chu Qingqiu’s hand jerked back for an instant, seemingly an instinctive move to hide the chrysanthemums behind her. However, her slender waist was no match for such a large bouquet, so the hand stopped halfway and retracted.

Both seemed stunned. For a moment, neither spoke, save for the white tiger that had followed Ning Fuyi up the stairs. It gave a soft huff, sat down between the two, and began licking its paws with its legs crossed.

“Did your mother never teach you that visiting a Divine Lord requires sending a formal petition! Moreover, I am now the Sect Leader. Do you take Jingshan Palace for your own home, to enter whenever you please!” Chu Qingqiu finally spoke. Her voice sounded as if it were squeezed through clenched teeth, no longer so composed.

“I’ve never seen my mother send you a formal petition,” Ning Fuyi muttered in a low voice. “Besides, I intended to announce myself, but in this massive Jingshan Palace, there is nothing but Bai Lin. Who was I supposed to find? I couldn’t exactly stand at the gate forever waiting for an elder like you to come out.”

“You…” Chu Qingqiu’s vermilion lips parted, but she eventually held back her retort, turning coldly instead. “Bai Lin.”

The little white tiger perked up instantly, its fur fluffing into a ball.

“Leading just anyone into my palace—what use is it having you guard the door!”

The white tiger gave a mournful howl and hung its head low, looking the very picture of someone admitting their mistake.

“Leave,” Chu Qingqiu added. The white tiger spun in a circle and vanished in a puff of white smoke.

With that, Chu Qingqiu ignored Ning Fuyi and turned to walk inside, though her steps were somewhat hurried, which weakened her imposing aura considerably.

Used to being scolded by Chu Qingqiu, Ning Fuyi felt no real ripple in her heart. Or perhaps her attention was occupied by something else: that bouquet of chrysanthemums which she had clearly thrown back into the funeral shop.

Why was it in Chu Qingqiu’s hands again?

She stepped forward to follow, but before she could enter, the doorframe suddenly flared with a white light. Ning Fuyi stopped abruptly.

“Get out,” Chu Qingqiu barked low.

Ning Fuyi looked at the barrier on the doorframe. Silently, she reached out and gave it a casual poke, easily piercing the thin white membrane. She watched with satisfaction as the calm on Chu Qingqiu’s face crumbled once again.

“Divine Lord, the Marriage Contract,” she said with a grin.

She loved seeing Chu Qingqiu in a bind. Every rare time she witnessed it, she found it more entertaining than any play in the mortal world.

She then strode into the room, assuming a proper posture with hands folded across her chest in salute. “This disciple greets the Divine Lord. Elder Yuanming instructed me to come today to ensure the Crimson Jade Sect Seal was delivered to you.”

With that, she pulled the piece of junk stone from her robes and presented it with both hands.

Chu Qingqiu likely wanted her gone quickly, so she uncharacteristically refrained from further scolding. Instead, she turned slightly aside, casually placing the vase in a hidden spot behind a curtain, and nodded. “Leave it.”

Ning Fuyi glanced at her, walked forward a few steps with her head down, placed the stone on the desk, and then looked up.

Chu Qingqiu glared at her; she looked back.

Chu Qingqiu’s brows were almost knit into a knot, her eyes clearly saying “Why aren’t you leaving yet?” but Ning Fuyi chose to pretend she didn’t notice. She tilted her body slightly, her gaze passing over Chu Qingqiu’s shoulder to look at the flower branches peeking out from behind the curtain.

“The Divine Lord has always loved gardenias. Why keep chrysanthemums now? They look rather familiar,” Ning Fuyi said with a smile in her eyes. “They look exactly like the ones I gave you that day.”

Chu Qingqiu’s breath hitched for a moment. She suddenly let out a cold snort. “I simply thought white chrysanthemums were pretty and kept a bouquet. What has that to do with you? The item has been delivered; leave at once.”

“So that’s how it is,” Ning Fuyi nodded as if enlightened, yet her eyes scanned the bouquet up and down. Though they had withered a bit and were no longer as vibrant as a few days ago, the number and size were identical to the ones she had bought.

Could it be that Chu Qingqiu truly liked these chrysanthemums so much that she went back to get them?

It couldn’t possibly be because she was the one who gave them… However, she shook her head and dismissed the thought before it could take root. Who was Chu Qingqiu? Someone so unreachable and aloof—how could she possibly care about a bouquet given to her by anyone else?

Especially when that person was herself.

“You got another bouquet? I find them strikingly familiar. In the bunch I bought, one of them had a rare red stamen.” Ning Fuyi moved closer again, but a cold wind suddenly brushed past, her hair fluttering as the White Bone staff stopped abruptly in front of her face.

Ning Fuyi quickly backed away, tilting her nose to avoid the fierce, floating light on the surface of the staff.

Fine, I’ve had my fun annoying her; better not push her too far, Ning Fuyi thought. She spoke before Chu Qingqiu could roar, cutting off her anger.

“Don’t be in a hurry, Divine Lord. I meant nothing else; I only wanted to tell you that you are raising these flowers the wrong way.” She spoke extremely fast.

As expected, the previously enraged Chu Qingqiu paused. She slowly lowered the White Bone staff. Although her tone remained cold, she didn’t chase her out again.

“How is it wrong?” she asked.

“Look.” Ning Fuyi spun around her and walked to the curtain, pulling out the vase. It was a precious gold-threaded glass vase, with shimmering gold threads swimming within the translucent glass—mystical and dreamlike.

Using such a rare vessel to keep chrysanthemums… Chu Qingqiu really does like them, Ning Fuyi thought.

“When keeping flowers in water, you must remove the lower leaves,” Ning Fuyi said, placing the vase back on the desk and flicking the side of the glass with her finger. “Stuffing them in like this, it’s a wonder they lasted at all. Besides, it’s been several days since we returned from Furong Town. No matter how fresh the chrysanthemums are, they wither after eight or nine days in water.”

Chu Qingqiu’s peach-blossom eyes lowered, her gaze falling on the petals. “So that is how it is. It seems there is no way to save them.”

Ning Fuyi was puzzled and couldn’t help asking, “The Divine Lord has supreme powers. You could just use a spell to bring them back to life. Why dwell on it?”

“A spell could make them look as they were, but they would no longer be these specific flowers.” After saying this, Chu Qingqiu turned gently, her soft robes spreading and falling like butterfly wings. “You may leave.”

Her tone carried a hint of desolation. Ning Fuyi looked at her back, then at the flowers on the desk which had reached their twilight. She suddenly spoke: “Actually, if you want to keep them as they look now without using immortal arts, it isn’t difficult.”

“There is no need. They were never important things; if they wither, so be it.”

Tch, clearly you want them, Ning Fuyi thought.

She glanced at the flowers and said no more. Instead, she reached out and pulled them from the vase. She untied the sash from her waist, tying one end to the base of the bouquet and the other to the window lattice, hanging them upside down.

Chu Qingqiu turned back at the sound. She said nothing, watching her movements with a closed mouth. It wasn’t until Ning Fuyi repeatedly waved her hands under the flowers but manifested nothing that she couldn’t help asking, “What are you doing?”

Ning Fuyi was still not very skilled at transformation magic, and since she hadn’t learned Fire-element arts, she could only turn her head and say, “Divine Lord, lend me a flame.”

With a light flick of Chu Qingqiu’s finger, a blazing fire ignited beneath the flowers. The temperature in the room rose instantly, and the moisture in the air grew thin. Once the petals were half-dried, Ning Fuyi extinguished the fire and took the flowers down.

However, her robes were long. As she stood up, she accidentally brushed against the fire. A portion of the silk hem was scorched. Ning Fuyi stomped on it twice, not paying it any mind.

Chu Qingqiu’s gaze lingered on that scorched hem for a moment.

“You’ll see in a bit.” Caught up in the fun, Ning Fuyi clapped her hands and ran downstairs. Puzzled by her actions but not stopping her, Chu Qingqiu rose and watched through the window.

Ning Fuyi’s figure soon appeared below. She ran to the pond, used her robes to scoop up a bunch of fine sand, and then lightly ran back upstairs.

Hearing her approach, Chu Qingqiu immediately moved away from the window, pretending she hadn’t moved.

“Does the Divine Lord have a glass box?” Ning Fuyi asked, her forehead damp with sweat.

Chu Qingqiu glanced at Ning Fuyi’s feet, which were covered in mud and sand. Eventually, she suppressed her anger and coldly took a box from a nearby shelf of treasures, removing the original jade cup inside and tossing it aside carelessly.

“The Divine Lord is quite generous,” Ning Fuyi curled her lips.

“It wasn’t my thing to begin with,” Chu Qingqiu replied. She pushed the glass box toward Ning Fuyi, trying to hide her curiosity.

Ning Fuyi nodded. She snapped her fingers, using immortal power to cut the flower stems in half. Then, holding the flowers in one hand, she poured all the fine sand from her robes into the box. The sand submerged half of the glass box, leaving the space above for the flowers. The translucent box paired with the snowy-white petals created a bashful, veiled beauty.

Chu Qingqiu moved half a step forward, her shoulders leaning slightly as she peered into the box.

“These are dried flowers. In the mortal world, when people want to keep flowers but don’t know immortal arts, they do this,” Ning Fuyi explained. “From now on, there’s no need for water. Just leave them like this until they are completely dry.”

In the past, she hated practicing and always snuck down the mountain to play in the mortal world, learning little mortal tricks that were sometimes more interesting than magic.

Chu Qingqiu nodded instinctively, then realizing she had agreed too quickly, she put her hands behind her back and straightened up, giving a cold hum of acknowledgement.

Seeing her look of wanting to see but forcing herself not to, Ning Fuyi felt a strange sense of amusement. Though she still hated Chu Qingqiu, she had to admit that this version of her—the one with a bit of “humanity”—was slightly easier to approach than the usual emotionless Divine Lord.

“The item has been delivered. This disciple takes her leave.” Ning Fuyi didn’t care to stay any longer. She turned to walk out, the scorched corner of her robes fluttering in the air, exposed to Chu Qingqiu’s eyes.

“Stop,” Chu Qingqiu said suddenly.

Ning Fuyi stopped suspiciously. Following Chu Qingqiu’s gaze downward, she kicked her hem back.

“Has Elder Jingshan not prepared your sect uniform yet?” Chu Qingqiu asked.

“No,” Ning Fuyi answered. A uniform for the Yunjisun Sect was only granted after breaking through the Mortal Realm; they were woven from the silk of Cloud Silkworms and infused with immortal power by elder cultivators to make them waterproof, fireproof, warm in winter, and cool in summer.

“Elder Jingshan manages the disciples’ daily needs. How could he be so negligent?” Chu Qingqiu’s handsome brows furrowed again.

“This disciple is dull and was never noticed to begin with. Breaking through the Mortal Realm was just luck. The elders have many important matters; it’s normal to forget.” Ning Fuyi said, “This disciple takes her leave.”

She said no more and walked away with a tap-tap-tap. Chu Qingqiu was left alone in the room. She let out a breath, turned toward the box containing the dried flowers, and rested her slender fingers on it, stroking it gently.

In those pale eyes that were always filled with indifference, a rare softness slowly rippled.

A commotion sounded from below. Chu Qingqiu walked to the window. It was Ning Fuyi, who had run into Qiu Yi on her way out. The two were arguing back and forth. Eventually, Ning Fuyi clearly got the upper hand, walking away with her back straight and a vigorous stride, leaving Qiu Yi stomping her feet.

Watching this, an imperceptible movement touched the corners of Chu Qingqiu’s lips.

“Qiu Yi,” she called across the space. A moment later, a flushed Qiu Yi stood outside the door, her anger still visible as she addressed her Master.

“That… Ning Fuyi is too much! Bursting into Jingshan Palace without a word, disturbing Master’s rest.” Qiu Yi was excited, intending to continue her complaint, but Chu Qingqiu interrupted her.

“I wanted to ask you, do you know the art of tailoring?” Chu Qingqiu asked.

“tailoring?” Qiu Yi was stunned. The Master in her heart was someone who focused only on cultivation, had no interest in romance or the arts, and knew absolutely nothing about the basics of daily life. Her hands never touched “spring water,” let alone opening a door manually.

What on earth had happened for her to want to tailor something herself?

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