Transmigrated as the Villain and Driven Crazy by the Vengeful Male Lead - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: A Thank-You Kiss – Seeing It Now, It Is Possible…

This threatening tone and the forced embrace felt familiar. Lyu Shuyao glanced at the person beside him and found Su Cheyue watching him as well.

“Ah… hahaha.” Lyu Shuyao gave a hollow laugh. “I mean, my carrying technique should be better than his, right? Definitely better! Hahaha…”

Amidst his endless, foolish “hahaha-ing,” Su Cheyue uttered a simple, “Mm.”

“…”

Jiang Zhiqing carried the person to the outside of the sleeping quarters and said, “Open the barrier.”

Chang Huaichen: “You are not allowed inside.”

Jiang Zhiqing sighed: “Just this once. Open it.”

Chang Huaichen muttered a low curse, and Jiang Zhiqing stepped inside without hindrance. Lyu Shuyao and Su Cheyue, attached to Chang Huaichen’s consciousness, naturally followed him in.

At this time, the Palace Master’s residence did not yet contain those several-story-high giant ice caves, nor the unnervingly numerous screens and incense timers. The hall was brightly lit, its furnishings clear at a glance; perhaps because the owner wasn’t much of a cleaner, everything was minimalist.

Jiang Zhiqing placed him on the bed and scanned the room: “Where is the medicine?”

“What medicine?”

Jiang Zhiqing fixed his gaze on him. “You’re injured—do you not apply medicine? Such a vast Zhuohua Palace, famous throughout the cultivation world, and there isn’t a single bottle of healing salve in the palace?”

“There is,” Chang Huaichen said lazily. “It’s all in the disciples’ loft.”

Jiang Zhiqing’s face turned cold again. “…Summoning ghosts harms others and yourself. Tonight you were gravely injured; was it a backlash? If even you end up like this, what about those women? You paint the Yin-Summoning makeup on them and then give them medicine—isn’t that just slapping them and then giving them a sweet? Even if you want to keep them by your side, there’s no need to use a method that endangers their lives…”

Chang Huaichen whipped off the covers. “The one slapping and then giving a sweet is you, Jiang Zhiqing! Did I ask you to manage my affairs? You’re acting on your own wishful thinking! Get out!”

Jiang Zhiqing didn’t budge.

“Get out!”

Jiang Zhiqing walked to the bedside, picked up the covers for him, and said, “I’m going to get the medicine.”

Chang Huaichen was being driven mad by him: “Come back! You are not allowed to go!”

Jiang Zhiqing had no intention of obeying. Chang Huaichen said, “It’s the middle of the night; if you disturb my disciples, will you take responsibility? Fine, even if you bring it back, the wound is on my back—who will apply it? One of the women you claim I’ve forcibly detained, or you, a man who acts all upright on the surface but starts manhandling me the moment he arrives?”

Jiang Zhiqing asked, “Who do you want to do it?”

Chang Huaichen was choked by his directness.

“…I’m not in the mood tonight. No one. I don’t need it.”

“Since you aren’t in the mood, I’ll do it.” Jiang Zhiqing turned and left.

Chang Huaichen bit the quilt and cursed, “Stubborn donkey, headstrong breed, a dog that dares to bite its master.”

The “donkey-breed dog” returned quickly with the wound medicine, looking at Chang Huaichen expressionlessly.

“…Take off your clothes.”

During the time he was out, Chang Huaichen had calmed down a bit. Propping himself up against his knees on the bed, he tilted his fox-like eyes, assuming the posture of the host: “Are you sure?”

“Little flower-obsessed fool.”

Jiang Zhiqing’s fingertips trembled suddenly. His eyes seemed scorched by the lamplight in the room, so hot that he had to squint slightly, as if he wanted to peek, but only dared to peek.

Having won a round, Chang Huaichen beamed. Very naturally, he took off the red outer robe, which was stained with blood but hard to see.

Underneath the outer robe was a white inner lining, long since torn in several places by the fierce ghosts, reaching the bone and flesh. The contrast between the torn white clothes and the mottled bloodstains should have made one feel afraid or distressed, but because the injured person’s skin was as white as snow and smooth as fat, the wounds took on an inappropriately sensual meaning.

Jiang Zhiqing’s throat moved. “…Take this one off too.”

Chang Huaichen’s back was toward him, his shadow pausing on the wall as the candlelight flickered.

The outer robe and inner garment both fell to the floor.

Chang Huaichen’s skin was very white. There were many old scars on his back; though healed, they weren’t hideous, showing a faint pink hue—like a shellfish opening its hard shell to reveal the tender meat inside.

Tepid fingertips touched his back. The medicinal liquid seeped into the wounds, making one’s heart skip a beat. Chang Huaichen closed his eyes and waited a moment. Whether enduring the pain or not, he asked in a very soft voice, “Are you afraid?”

Jiang Zhiqing was focused on checking the wounds. “Hmm?”

“Seeing these. Are you afraid?”

Jiang Zhiqing said, “No.”

“But your fingertips are trembling,” Chang Huaichen complained. “Trembling so much it makes me feel both pain and an itch.”

Jiang Zhiqing withdrew his hand. “…Sorry.”

Chang Huaichen said, “You’re a mortal; it’s only natural to be afraid. I won’t laugh at you. I’ll ask you again: are you afraid?”

“…I am,” his fingers covered the skin again. “I’m afraid of your pain.”

Chang Huaichen fell silent for a moment and smiled.

“Jiang Zhiqing, have you fallen in love with me?”

Hearing this, Lyu Shuyao suddenly shuddered: “They—”

Jiang Zhiqing froze behind him, remaining silent for a long time.

“In your eyes, I am a practitioner of the demonic path, yet you can still love me. You truly are a little flower-obsessed fool.”

“…The medicine is applied,” Jiang Zhiqing said lowly. “I will go find clean clothes.”

Chang Huaichen turned his head: “Wait a moment.”

“You helped me; shouldn’t I thank you?”

Jiang Zhiqing: “There is no need, Palace Master…”

“But I don’t know how to say thank you.” Chang Huaichen tilted his head to look at him. The two of them were sitting on the bed, suddenly very close.

Lyu Shuyao, for some reason, felt extremely nervous, sensing that something was about to happen.

Chang Huaichen looked at Jiang Zhiqing’s handsome profile and said, “Actually, you are quite good-looking.”

Jiang Zhiqing lowered his eyelashes and didn’t speak.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one, so young.” Chang Huaichen moved his face a bit closer, speaking against Jiang Zhiqing’s ear.

“Someone told me today that I am consumed by grudges and haunted by nightmares, and have no right to enter this mortal world to find happiness.”

Jiang Zhiqing’s eyelashes fluttered, and he turned his face to look at him. They were so close that the shadows cast on the wall had long since intertwined, inseparable. In this quiet, long gaze, Chang Huaichen said, “Seeing it now, it is possible.”

He lazily lowered his eyes, lifted his chin, and kissed Jiang Zhiqing on the temple.

Lyu Shuyao let go of Su Cheyue’s hand.

“You…” Su Cheyue looked down in confusion. Seeing his expression again, his profile was tense, and his eyes—usually watery like a puppy’s—looked somewhat harsh now. The hand he had released was slowly clenching into a fist.

It was as if he were enduring something with a mix of anger and helplessness.

Su Cheyue watched him for a while and then looked away, asking nothing. The development of events was indeed unexpected. Although he and Lyu Shuyao had discussed marriage and “husbands” countless times, they both knew in their hearts they were either acting or annoying each other.

Now, clearly before their eyes were two men like them, truly about to engage in such a relationship. It was impossible not to feel a bit of discomfort or awkwardness.

This was a dreamscape; they couldn’t leave, so it was best to just stay quiet and watch it to the end.

After the kiss, seeing no reaction, Chang Huaichen even waved his hand: “Dazed?”

Then, his hand was caught.

Chang Huaichen was startled. Jiang Zhiqing looked at him, his eyes like a field of ruins. His breathing was heavy and labored: “…You are injured.”

“?”

Jiang Zhiqing forced his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he had already stood up and quickly retreated to the door.

“Leaving already?”

Chang Huaichen wasn’t angry either, leaning back on the bed at his leisure to watch him go.

“I will come back tomorrow to change your medicine,” Jiang Zhiqing threw out a sentence and fled in panic.

The room was empty of others, the romantic atmosphere dissipated. Su Cheyue then asked, “Lyu Shuyao, what’s wrong now?”

For the first time, Lyu Shuyao did not respond to Su Cheyue. He stared intently at Chang Huaichen and suddenly smiled: “So that’s how it was. It turned out to be like this; it turned out to be like this again.”

What?

He rarely showed such a cold, almost terrifying smile. He raised the back of his hand to cover his eyes: “Why let me see this kind of thing again?”

Lyu Shuyao hadn’t seemed as angry even when Chang Huaichen treated Jiang Zhiqing that way in the main hall.

He left Su Cheyue behind, walked out of the room himself, lifted his purple robe, leaned against the wall, and looked down with lowered eyes, saying nothing.

The next day, Jiang Zhiqing came as promised, silently changing Chang Huaichen’s medicine. When he was about to leave, Chang Huaichen pulled him close again and gave him a light, fleeting kiss.

For over half a month, it was like this every day.

“Jiang Zhiqing, when can you stop leaving?” The scabs had already fallen off, and new “shell meat” had grown—a thin layer of pinkish-white.

Jiang Zhiqing said, “No need to change the medicine today. I brought you something to eat.”

Chang Huaichen’s eyes lit up: “Wha—”

“Qingqing made it.” Jiang Zhiqing’s voice was flat. “She knew the Palace Master was injured and spent several days learning from me how to make this lily soup.”

Chang Huaichen hid his surprise and said, “Is that so? Then why didn’t she deliver it herself?”

“Disciples are not allowed to trespass into your sleeping quarters.” Jiang Zhiqing gave him a flat look. “She is my sister; I wouldn’t joke with you about her.”

Chang Huaichen said, “What do you mean?”

“Palace Master Chang, do you like my sister?”

Chang Huaichen said, “I like all my disciples.”

Jiang Zhiqing nodded: “As expected, that answer again.”

Chang Huaichen became increasingly displeased: “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Palace Master Chang, can you promise me not to touch my sister?”

Chang Huaichen’s brows knitted deeply.

“So, you approached me and pleased me in every way just for this?”

“No,” he said without thinking.

Chang Huaichen laughed and shook his head: “Jiang Zhiqing, you really don’t understand me.”

“I just like collecting women, I just like painting the Yin-Summoning makeup, and I like summoning ghosts to play with me. What can you do about it?”

Holding his breath, Jiang Zhiqing handed him a brush dipped in pigment.

“Then paint it on me. Let my sister go, let them go.”

Chang Huaichen grabbed the brush, pulled him down, pinned him to the bed, and pressed his elbow against his shoulder.

“Fine, I’ll paint it for you right now.”

Driven by the dreamscape, Lyu Shuyao turned his eyes away once more.

The two lay one above the other. Jiang Zhiqing didn’t struggle, letting Chang Huaichen paint on his forehead. Chang Huaichen’s brushwork was practiced; in a few strokes, he withdrew his strength and tossed the brush away.

He had painted a flower with a complex pattern, seemingly the same as the one on Jiang Zhiqing’s forehead outside the dreamscape.

“This is a lotus,” Chang Huaichen lightly traced the corner of his eye. “The hardest to paint—the kind with two blossoms on one stalk.”

The pigment dried on Jiang Zhiqing’s forehead as he stared at Chang Huaichen on top of him.

Chang Huaichen pressed down on him and said, “You don’t want to get up?”

Night had fallen over Zhuohua Palace. The female disciples went to bed early, and the Palace Master’s sleeping quarters had a barrier—no one could come unless summoned. Thus, the entire sleeping quarters was exceptionally quiet; one could even hear the sound of flowers falling outside the window.

In such lonely silence, once there is touch, desire is like dry wood meeting a raging fire, expanding explosively.

Chang Huaichen was surprised, and after the surprise came his habitual half-smile: “I suspect you don’t just want to paint a forehead ornament?”

“To make me let go of your sister, besides the Yin-Summoning makeup, shouldn’t there be something else?”

He lazily propped up his cheek and, imitating Jiang Zhiqing’s tone, called out.

“Brother?”

A fire suddenly ignited in Jiang Zhiqing’s eyes.

“This Palace Master hasn’t tasted a man yet.” Chang Huaichen bowed his head, kissing near his ear for the umpteenth time. “Maybe after trying it, I—”

The wooden bed gave a few creaks as their positions suddenly flipped. Chang Huaichen blinked, completely failing to react: “Jiang—mm!”

Jiang Zhiqing suddenly leaned down and bit his lower lip, saying, “You’ve got it wrong.”

Chang Huaichen’s eyes misted over from the pain: “What did I get wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jiang Zhiqing reached out to untie the silk ribbon of his inner garment. “The Palace Master gives me a kiss every day; I am now going to return them in full.”

“How will you return them?”

Jiang Zhiqing said, “By exhausting you, so you can no longer think of anyone else.”

Chang Huaichen’s tone was still very light and teasing: “Do you want to be a savior?”

“Suppose I do.” Jiang Zhiqing moved further down. “You knew long ago that I had this intention.”

His fingertips rubbed, his breath brushing over the curves: “I had this intention from the very first glance.”

Chang Huaichen froze, enveloped in tenderness.

The light in his eyes solidified like amber, his fingers sinking deep into the bedding.

Bloody vendettas haunt dreams; there is no right to be happy.

But… it really was very happy.

Lyu Shuyao turned around and tried to rush out, but the power of the dreamscape was strong, forcibly blocking him. He stumbled back a few steps, his hands covering his eyes but unable to block his ears, covering his ears but unable to block his eyes—the frantic effort to do both left him in a state of collapsing panic: “Let me out!”

Su Cheyue returned from the nearby intimacy and turned to look at him: “You cannot force your way out of the dreamscape; it will damage your body.”

Lyu Shuyao was deaf to it, clutching his ears: “What kind of bullshit bounty mission is this? Let me out!!”

He tried to break out again and again, and was pushed back every time. Finally, he crouched by the door, laughing helplessly.

He said, “Lyu Shuyao, you are truly pathetic.”

He remembered the cramped, damp, smoky public restroom of a chess and card room, where he hid in a corner and looked up to see tall men pressed together against the wall, the smell so pungent it made him want to vomit.

Su Cheyue’s face was as calm as jade. This night was destined to be long—tender and lingering for those on the bed, but an ordeal for the outsiders.

Su Cheyue walked over and raised his hand to cover Lyu Shuyao’s eyes.

“Hold on a little longer,” Su Cheyue said.

Lyu Shuyao said, “I wish I were blind and deaf.”

“…Mm.”

“Can you please not touch me?”

Su Cheyue said, “I cannot.”

Covering his ears, Lyu Shuyao could no longer hear any of the lingering sounds, but Su Cheyue could. He could hear Chang Huaichen warning Jiang Zhiqing in a soft tone; he could hear Jiang Zhiqing saying “sorry” while his actions were anything but polite. He truly had endured for too long, just as he said; every advance came from the soul, piercing into the marrow. Chang Huaichen had kissed him a dozen times, so he would kiss Chang Huaichen thousands and tens of thousands of times.

The Jiang Zhiqing who used to sleep rolled up in the covers finally erupted at this moment, revealing his hidden, frantic, and dangerous side.

In truth, Chang Huaichen’s cultivation had already mostly recovered. If he didn’t want this, he could have easily knocked Jiang Zhiqing off the bed. But he didn’t.

Su Cheyue listened in solitude; he was the only one listening. He seemed to realize something—these two people were like fireflies on a thorny path in a dark forest; not that bright, not that safe, but they truly existed.

Because they existed, those who came after would have the courage to follow.