Transmigrated as the Villain and Driven Crazy by the Vengeful Male Lead - Chapter 61

Chapter 61: True Fire — Where else could he be, if not with the Second Young Master?

“One whip at dawn, joyous return home; deep drunk, trapped in flowing clouds…”

Tao Xuanxuan curled up by the bed, holding open a bamboo scroll, reciting poetry to the person lying there.

“You used to love these poems and essays most.” Tao Xuanxuan did not look at He Zixu; her gaze fell into the fine cracks of the bamboo slips. “This one… you once wrote it into a letter home. Do you remember?”

[Father, your son can come home soon! Uncle Tao promised that if I help him with one small favor, he will allow me to take a break from treatment and return home to recover. Speaking of which, it’s quite interesting! This favor involves Zhouzhou. Uncle Tao wants her to learn more about medicine, and since he sees how well Zhouzhou and I get along, he asked me to help him put on a play.]

[Zhouzhou is afraid of dogs—she has been since she was little. Uncle Tao wants me to take her to the back mountain, where he will release a small dog. The dog will lung at us, and I need to protect Zhouzhou, pretend to be bitten, and then coax her into softening her heart to apply medicine and treat me.]

[It sounds strangely simple, but Uncle Tao says this is the only way he can persuade Zhouzhou to study the path of medicine.]

[Though I don’t want to lie to her, I really miss you and my brothers! And I’ve thought about it carefully; this isn’t a bad thing for Zhouzhou either. What do you think, Father?]

[One whip at dawn, joyous return home; deep drunk, trapped in flowing clouds. Night rain newly cleared, twin swallows dance in the slanted wind. Father, will you send someone to fetch me?]

This letter was never sent.

Because Tao Xuanxuan did follow him to the back mountain, and they did encounter a ferocious dog. Tao Xuanxuan hid behind He Zixu, crying in terror. He Zixu patted the back of her hand, repeating, “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.”

When the dog lunged, He Zixu protected her like a little hero riding on auspicious clouds. His lower leg was torn open by a bloody wound, yet he smiled gently.

At that time, Tao Xuanxuan had tears on her face, believing this was the beginning of a lifelong soul-bond between them.

She and He Zixu were indeed entangled for half their lives, but the words “soul-bond” had curdled into “estranged hearts and mutual resentment.”

The vicious dog died the same day it bit He Zixu. That night, he developed a terrifying high fever, his body covered in green spots, his breathing intermittent, looking like a withered stone.

Tao Zhongran, pretending to be frantic beside an oblivious Tao Xuanxuan, claimed the stray dog carried a poison never before seen in the cultivation world. He said it was extremely troublesome and that He Zixu’s life hung by a thread.

Tao Xuanxuan was young and didn’t understand what “life hanging by a thread” meant. She only kept asking: “Father, you have a way to wake him up, right? I beg of you, use your amazing medical skills, don’t let him lie here in such pain…”

Seizing the moment, Tao Zhongran replied dejectedly: “Father has never seen this toxin before and is currently at his wits’ end. Xuanxuan, if you are willing, join Father. We will exhaust the study of medicine together to find the cure…”

Tao Xuanxuan: “I’m willing! Of course I’m willing!”

That day, crying, she threw her little abacus, her puzzle games, and her divination sticks into the stream in the back mountain, keeping only the Tangram set He Zixu had given her.

From then on, she finally became Tao Xuanxuan, the daughter of Tao Zhongran.

Together with Tao Zhongran, she tried many methods. Only a long, long time later did He Zixu finally open his eyes.

The moment their eyes met, Tao Xuanxuan’s tears rolled down like silver pearls. That was the first time He Zixu saw her cry, and it was the last.

He Zixu struggled to speak: “Don’t cry…”

Tao Xuanxuan wiped her tears. “He Zixu, you are a bastard.”

He Zixu smiled—it must have been a painful smile, for his eyes were red: “Yes… I am.”

The gentlest bastard in the world.

“Hold me, Zhouzhou.”

Tao Xuanxuan froze, then reached out and gently embraced him. He Zixu closed his eyes again in her arms. A moment later, Tao Xuanxuan said: “I’m sorry.”

“Zhouzhou never needs to say ‘I’m sorry’,” He Zixu said. “I don’t wish… for me to be the person who makes you break that rule.”

Tao Xuanxuan cried again, silently, her hot tears soaking into He Zixu’s back, which was so thin it was barely there.

That was also their one and only embrace.

Later, Tao Xuanxuan accidentally found that letter he had written with a heart full of joy and anticipation.

She had forgotten how she felt at that moment; she only remembered that the first thing she did after learning the truth was not to denounce Tao Zhongran or question He Zixu, but to run to the stream in a daze, trying to find her things.

The two people she cared about most had conspired to deceive her.

Tao Zhongran had also deceived He Zixu. It was never a “small favor.” To make his only daughter abandon her beloved trade and return to medicine, he sacrificed the boy to reshape her.

For the Tao clan, for the reputation of a healer’s heart, he did not hesitate to ruin a young boy’s life.

Tao Xuanxuan murmured: “If there had been no such promise…” If Tao Zhongran hadn’t promised to let him go home.

Would you still have saved me? Would you still have blocked that dog for me?

Over the past ten years, she had wanted to ask countless times, but felt the question was ridiculous and meaningless.

Tao Xuanxuan closed the bamboo scroll. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside.

“Miss, this is bad! The East Wing is on fire!”

Tao Xuanxuan’s expression sharpened. “The water vats in the courtyard—”

“It’s no use, Miss!” The servant who entered was panicked. “The water won’t put the fire out!”

Won’t go out? “True Fire” (Zhenhuo) conjured by a fire spell?

“Where did it start?” Tao Xuanxuan stood up instantly, the light of the fire reflecting in her pupils.

She gasped: “The Second Young Master’s room?”

…

Su Cheyue opened his eyes. A blood-red True Fire roared outside the window, billowing thick smoke into the room. The bricks and wooden beams looked as if they would turn to ash in the next moment.

It was exactly as he had heard: someone was committing arson, using True Fire that water could not extinguish and people could not approach.

“A-Tong?” Su Cheyue raised his voice, his brow furrowed. “A-Tong, where are you?”

He sat on the bed and scanned the room. Confirming A-Tong wasn’t inside, he felt slightly relieved.

True Fire was different from ordinary fire; it was fierce and followed the caster’s will to incinerate everything. Low-level cultivators might not be able to withstand it, and for a mortal to get close was like paper touching magma—they would turn to ash in an instant.

“Second Young Master! Second Young Master!” A-Tong’s voice suddenly cried out from the courtyard, muffled by the crackling of the flames.

“Don’t come closer! Stay away!” Su Cheyue channeled his spiritual power to project his voice. Fortunately, A-Tong knew when to retreat and did not rush in.

Only…

Given Su Cheyue’s current cultivation and physical state, if he let the fire continue to burn its way in, he wouldn’t last long either.

The firelight made the room bright as day; no lamp was needed. The wheelchair was not far from the foot of the bed. Su Cheyue reached out quickly—

He was just short.

That tiny distance was a matter of life and death.

Su Cheyue bit his lip, his back tense, his fingertips trembling with effort, but he still couldn’t reach it.

He dazed for a moment.

Can’t reach it, won’t live, won’t see him.

He could not not see him.

He released his lip, closed his eyes, and leaned out from the bed, prepared to fall to the floor.

Suddenly, purple light flashed with a sharp sizzle. The fire vanished instantly, and the room plunged into darkness.

Su Cheyue didn’t see anything clearly before a familiar scent pressed down heavily on him. As half his body began to fall, he was caught in mid-air and lifted up.

Before his consciousness could react, his heart skipped a beat.

The person holding him didn’t speak, but their breathing was heavy, as if suppressing a monumental rage. Su Cheyue lowered his eyes, his fingers hidden in his sleeves, and didn’t move.

After leaving Zhuohua Palace, Lv Shuyao’s cultivation had recovered so quickly that he dealt with the True Fire in a split second. He was carried to Lv Shuyao’s room. Lv Shuyao set him down, lit a lamp, and checked his body with a blank expression.

In Su Cheyue’s memory, the person before him rarely had a blank expression. He was either smiling or acting cute and spoiled. Except for that time he was drunk and injured in Tianjin Lane and showed a hint of vulnerability, it seemed nothing in the world could truly make him sad or angry.

Right now, his puppy-dog eyes were sharp as blades, his lips a flat line, his face cold.

He was filled with anger and resentment, yet he held it back.

…Why?

Because of the fire?

Or because of the things Su Cheyue had said that evening?

Confirming he wasn’t injured, Lv Shuyao still didn’t say a word. He turned to leave. Su Cheyue asked: “Where are you going?”

Lv Shuyao paused before saying: “To check on the others.”

“…Did you come here first?”

Then where had he been just now?

After their conversation, he hadn’t gone back to Tao Xuanxuan’s side; he had been alone? Thinking about what?

Lv Shuyao gave a vague “Mm” and said: “I’ve set a barrier; it’s safe here. I…”

Su Cheyue understood that he didn’t want to talk now and had nothing to say. He wouldn’t force him to speak; even if he did, there would be no answer.

“I know. Go on.”

…

On the other side of the East Wing, Tao Xuanxuan realized that only she or one other person could extinguish True Fire with spiritual power. “Where is Lv Shuyao?”

“I-I haven’t seen Master Lv…”

As soon as the words were spoken, the flames at the source of the fire vanished like boiling water hitting ice. With a hiss, the smoke dissipated, leaving only a lingering darkness that signaled the extinguisher’s suppressed fury.

Tao Xuanxuan sighed: “Where else could he be, if not with the Second Young Master?”

The flames there were out, but the air here suddenly grew scorching. The servant cried out in terror: “Miss! The Young Master—”

Tao Xuanxuan whipped her head around. Eerie True Fire had flared up inside the room at some unknown point. Arrogant tongues of flame licked along the window and desk, consuming the wooden shelves on the inner wall, about to roll onto the bed!

The person on the bed showed no signs of waking. Tao Xuanxuan desperately tried to lift him and carry him on her back, her movements frantic and clumsy.

Supporting He Zixu, she stumbled with every step, unable to get out of the room through the billowing smoke. She shouted to the servants in the courtyard: “Come in and help!”

“Miss, I can’t! It’s too hot, I can’t take it…”

The power of True Fire could burn a mortal within ten feet! Tao Xuanxuan didn’t force them. She summoned her spiritual power to fight the fire, but her spiritual root was entirely devoted to medicine; fighting True Fire was an uphill battle.

The flames had already licked her black skirt.

She and He Zixu fell to the ground together. She pushed He Zixu further away. The fire at her ankles was briefly extinguished by her, only to surge back again and again. The True Fire raged, embracing her. She began to feel phantom pains—it hurt, so much. Gradually, she gave up trying to extinguish it and stared blankly at the flames about to reach her calves.

Being bitten by a dog, and being burned by fire. Will it feel the same?

If possible, she hoped the latter would hurt more.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the sensation, and thought of He Zixu smiling gently ten years ago.

“Zhouzhou…”

Tao Xuanxuan snapped her eyes open and turned her head, thinking she had misheard.

He Zixu’s eyes were bright, lit by the fire, just as they had been ten years ago. This gave Tao Xuanxuan a delusion, as if he had never been injured, never been poisoned, and they had never experienced these ten years of agonizing torture.

Yet he was still fragile. The moment he raised his hand, Tao Xuanxuan was afraid he would shatter if he moved, and she reached out to grip him.

Blue spiritual power overflowed from He Zixu’s palm, rushing toward the flames that were bullying Tao Xuanxuan, extinguishing them instantly—just as he had blocked the vicious dog that bullied her ten years ago.

Tao Xuanxuan was stunned.

When He Zixu was sent to the Tao family, Tao Zhongran had determined that although his spiritual root was excellent, he was born with weak Qi. Even if he cultivated spiritual power, he would be unable to control it and would instead suffer from the backlash of the vast energy.

However, He Zixu had never given up his cultivation. In the year he was poisoned, that thin but hardworking boy had already surpassed many of his peers and successfully formed a spiritual core.

He should have been a young master who excelled in both scholarly and martial arts, with a bright future ahead of him.

“Don’t move anymore.” Tao Xuanxuan suppressed her emotions, keeping her voice from trembling. “He Zixu, your body cannot withstand your spiritual power right now.”

He Zixu smiled. Only the glow of the True Fire could cast a thin, crimson hue over his pale face, making him look gentle and elegant—so beautiful it made one want to cry.

“If we die here… will you be afraid?” she asked.

He Zixu smiled and said: “It is exactly what I wish for.”

Tao Xuanxuan suddenly felt a sense of ease.

Everything she owed He Zixu, and everything He Zixu owed her, seemed to be burned clean by the prairie fire at this moment. They only needed to die together, and the past could be wiped away—no one carrying hatred, no one bearing love. They could both go back to being themselves.

“That’s good.”

He Zixu stopped speaking. He raised his hand again, condensing his power. The blue light, like a watery reflection, surged forth. He began to cough violently, his white robes stained once more by blossoms of blood.

Tao Xuanxuan was horrified: “Zixu!”

“But… I hope…”

His voice was intermittent, like a summer night’s breeze—muffled by thick branches as it blew past, leaving only a rustling, raspy sound, yet one that could be remembered for an entire summer.

“I hope Zhouzhou… has a long and peaceful life.”