Transmigrated as the Villain and Driven Crazy by the Vengeful Male Lead - Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Long Distance (Part 1) — Hand-written by Cheyue.

The winter rain fell for several days straight. Suddenly, the tightly shut gates of Xifeng Ferry were opened, welcoming a handsome young man surrounded by a faint purple aura.

“Sect Master… Sect Master!” Lyu Qingsong was handling affairs in the main hall when a young disciple rushed in to report joyfully: “Senior Brother is back!”

Lyu Qingsong stood up immediately: “A-Yao is back?”

The moment Lyu Shurao entered Luzhou, he was drenched by the rain. There were few people on the road, and he didn’t even have a place to borrow an umbrella, so he could only walk back slowly along the eaves of the houses.

With every turn he took, he thought of the Su Cheyue from the illusion—the one who held his hand, ran through countless alleys, and found the most spacious and cleanest shelter for him.

In that dream that never existed yet exists forever, Su Cheyue had given him a grand sanctuary.

Thus, as he walked back to Xifeng Ferry, being soaked to the bone wasn’t so unbearable after all.

As he walked toward the hall, he ran into Lyu Qingsong coming the other way, a bamboo umbrella tucked under his arm.

Lyu Shurao’s lips moved, but after being away for so many days, the title “Father” felt unfamiliar on his tongue once again.

Lyu Qingsong’s eyes were bloodshot. With a pop, he opened the umbrella to cover him, speaking first: “How come you didn’t send a message before returning?”

“It’s good that you’re back, it’s good that you’re back…”

Lyu Shurao looked blankly at the brand-new umbrella over his head. The rain pitter-pattered against it; the green water and green bamboo motifs seemed to play an ethereal melody.

“This umbrella…”

Cultivators did not fear wind, rain, thunder, or lightning. They never carried umbrellas, let alone kept them in the sect.

“Oh, it was Cheyue who said that during your time away, you suddenly developed a dislike for rain. Luzhou is rainy, so I ordered people to prepare some in advance.”

Lyu Shurao was even more confused: “Cheyue?”

Lyu Qingsong’s old face turned an inexplicable shade of red. “I used to call him the Second Young Master, but now that you two… Cheyue also refers to himself this way in his letters.”

“Letters?? What letters??”

Why did every sentence out of his father’s mouth contain so much information??

“While you were away, Cheyue would occasionally write to Luzhou to report that you were safe.” At this, Lyu Qingsong complained: “You were gone for so long and didn’t write a single letter, and your voice transmissions were often unreachable. We relied entirely on your husband…”

Lyu Shurao: “Stop! Hold on. Father, what does he say to you in those letters?”

Lyu Qingsong recalled: “Mostly about your current situation—whether you are happy, whether you are safe—and then he asks if Luzhou is doing well.”

“He didn’t demand an explanation about the Ghost Purgatory?”

Lyu Qingsong sighed painfully: “That matter was indeed the Lyu family’s fault, yet not only did he not pursue it, he didn’t even mention it.”

“When did he start writing to you?”

“Probably after the Little New Year [the 23rd or 24th of the 12th lunar month].”

That was after the Raccoon Ghost incident. After that… Su Cheyue gradually stopped blaming him?

Yet in Chang Huaichen’s illusion, he had said something as heavy as “Your Lyu family made a joke out of me,” which had made Lyu Shurao feel guilty and sad whenever he thought of it, making him afraid to get too close.

“There are a few letters I can’t quite understand. Since you’re back, shall I take you to see them?”

Can’t understand?

Lyu Shurao followed his father back to the main hall. The letters were pressed under the paperwork on Lyu Qingsong’s desk so he could flip through them occasionally.

“These are the ones.”

Lyu Shurao laughed as soon as he unfolded the letter.

Dense black dots, using a tiny amount of spiritual energy to create slight protrusions—it was Braille.

His fingers touched the rough surface of the paper; it seemed to still carry the scent and warmth of the person who wrote it.

“To Sect Master Lyu:

I hope this letter finds you well.

You may not understand this letter because I am currently unable to see. The characters I have written are ‘Martian’ [Internet slang for weird characters], which Shurao taught me a few days ago.

Although I cannot see, as we are about to leave Yangshuo for Huailing, I felt I should inform you in advance so you wouldn’t worry.

Shurao says no one in the world can read ‘Martian.’ I don’t believe him; he must be tricking me. He often cheated and deceived me while we were at the sect. There must be someone of great talent in Luzhou who can decipher this. Please rest assured, Sect Master, we are safe.

Take care of your health. May everything go smoothly.

Written by Cheyue.”

The content was concise and cool, Su Cheyue’s usual style.

But something was very different.

For instance, Su Cheyue had never called him “Shurao” to his face.

And “He often cheated and deceived me while we were at the sect”—why did it feel like a wife acting spoiled and complaining to the in-laws…

Furthermore.

Judging from the fact that he could write his own name, he knew how to spell “Lyu Shurao” in Braille.

Yet that night when I taught him, he refused to spell it no matter what.

What a tsundere.

Lyu Shurao was so focused on the letter that he didn’t notice Lyu Qingsong watching him with a gratified smile.

“A-Yao didn’t like to smile when he was young. He actually looks so good when he smiles.”

Lyu Shurao snapped back to reality, rubbed his nose, suppressed his smile, and picked up another letter.

This one was written just after entering Zhuohua Palace, likely sent out via Qin Zhu.

“To Sect Master Lyu:

I hope this letter finds you well.

This letter is still in ‘Martian.’ I am useless and have not yet regained my sight.

He and I have arrived in Huailing. This place reminds me of why I originally agreed to the engagement with the Lyu family. Thinking back, it was truly hasty. Fortunately, there was a change midway; otherwise, it would have irredeemably ruined Miss Lyu’s life. I hope for your forgiveness.

Huailing is as beautiful as a poem or a painting. Both he and I are safe.

Take care of your health. May everything go smoothly.

Written by Cheyue.”

They were clearly trapped in Zhuohua Palace at the time—where were the “poems and paintings” or “safety”? He really only reported the good news.

And.

What did he mean by “Fortunately there was a change, otherwise it would have ruined Miss Lyu’s life”?

Does he think that replacing the bride with me didn’t ruin my life?

Double-standard Su Cheyue.

This letter didn’t use Lyu Shurao’s name; it used “he” to refer to him throughout. Lyu Shurao thought it was impolite on the first read, but when he read it again to complain…

He realized “he” was always connected to “I.”

He and I.

Why did it feel a bit clingy, a bit ambiguous?

“Finished reading?” Lyu Qingsong said with a beaming smile, the tears from seeing his adopted son having long vanished. “Can you let your father share in the joy of your secret bedroom talk?”

“What are you… Father, stop talking nonsense.” Lyu Shurao folded the letters neatly. “I only went to take care of the Second Young Master in my aunt’s place. Once he recovers, the engagement will no longer exist.”

Lyu Qingsong scrutinized him: “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Then why didn’t he come back with you this time?”

Lyu Shurao said: “He is undergoing treatment. I will go pick him up when he is cured.”

Lyu Qingsong’s eyes lit up: “You found a way to heal his senses and his legs?”

Lyu Shurao nodded. Lyu Qingsong couldn’t help but weep with joy. “Good, that’s good… This way, the Lyu family can finally pay back a tiny fraction of what we owe the Su family…”

A disciple waiting in the hall couldn’t help but interject: “This way, if Su Xun comes knocking on the door again, the Sect Master won’t have to worry anymore!”

Lyu Shurao’s gaze froze. “What did you say?”

Lyu Qingsong barked: “Too much talk. Leave!”

Lyu Shurao said: “Wait. Father.” He turned to the disciple. “Tell me exactly: who came knocking, and how?”

The disciple spoke up boldly: “Senior Brother, it’s been over half a month since New Year’s Eve. The Baoshan Sect of Yangshuo has come to Xifeng Ferry more than once looking for people, saying you kidnapped the Su family’s Second Young Master. The Sect Master said he didn’t know your whereabouts, so Su Xun led a group to barge in, turning the sect upside down, and even injured several disciples! The Sect Master refrained from a direct confrontation out of respect for the Su family’s past kindness. It was only after Little Aunt [Lyu Qingcheng] couldn’t take it anymore and fought them that things quieted down for a few days…”

“Is he telling the truth? Father.”

Lyu Qingsong said awkwardly: “It’s nothing, it’s nothing. I have already passed spiritual energy to the injured disciples. Your aunt… I had originally locked her up, but that day somehow…”

“Where is Su Qingyang? Does he not care about this?”

“When Su Xun brought people over, we didn’t see the Eldest Young Master Su!” the disciple said.

Lyu Qingsong added: “Ever since the Ghost Purgatory reopened, the world has been restless. I often have to leave the sect to quell the ghosts. The Eldest Young Master is likely busy hunting ghosts down the mountain and has no time for this…”

“Listen well, Father.” Lyu Shurao stood straight, speaking word by word. “Sect Master Su Chen has been dead for years. As for Second Young Master Su Cheyue’s injuries, I have given my all, and his recovery is within sight. Even if the Lyu family owes the Su family, it is Su Cheyue and his father we owe, not Su Xun.”

He flipped his wrist, and Zhanquan [his sword] materialized. “Gratitude is gratitude; justice is justice. We do not forget favors, but we do not waver in our resolve. Ultimately, it is the Lyu family that owes the favor—what does that have to do with the disciples? We cannot give in endlessly and let Xifeng Ferry be bullied just because of a past favor.”

Lyu Qingsong’s expression changed: “A-Yao! I understand, don’t be impulsive.”

Lyu Shurao handed the sword over: “Father, you misunderstand. I will settle the score with Su Xun when Cheyue is with me. This sword is returned to you.”

Lyu Qingsong was shocked: “Your cultivation has been restored?”

“Mostly.” Lyu Shurao was somewhat impatient. “Father, my whip…”

Lyu Qingsong smiled: “I’ve kept it for you. Since you like it so much, why did you leave it at Xifeng Ferry in the first place?”

Back then, when he had just transmigrated, Lyu Shurao was immersed in Lyu Qingsong’s mountain-like fatherly love. He couldn’t bear to leave behind any gift from his father, so he had left the Duan-you [Grief-Severing] whip sent by Su Cheyue behind to protect Lyu Qingsong.

After a trip around the world, he felt that who sent the gift wasn’t as important as keeping what he liked close to him.

That was the right way.

The purple whip, like glue, coiled affectionately around Lyu Shurao’s forearm, showing no distance despite their days apart. On the contrary, “absence makes the heart grow fonder”—though the description wasn’t quite right, Duan-you did seem to cling to him tighter.

Lyu Shurao looked down at its peeking little head.

The next time he sees you, he will definitely be happy, Lyu Shurao thought.

“A-Yao…” Lyu Qingsong hesitated. “Will you… go see your aunt?”

Lyu Shurao: “…”

Lyu Shurao: “Father knows everything?”

“I know.” Lyu Qingsong actually looked somewhat ashamed. “The day you left for Yangshuo, she told me everything.”

Even though it wasn’t his fault, Lyu Shurao apologized sincerely: “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me; we are family.” Lyu Qingsong sighed. “Nothing actually happened between you, so it doesn’t count. Qingcheng turned everything upside down at first, wanting to throw everything away to find you in Yangshuo. I locked her up for months, and perhaps she has finally seen sense.”

“But some things you must tell her clearly yourself.”

Lyu Shurao did not retreat, saying calmly: “Alright.”

…

Lyu Qingcheng sat on the bed hugging her knees. She didn’t even look up when someone walked in.

As he got closer, he saw she was still clutching a red-gold hairpin.

Lyu Shurao silently poured her a cup of tea. She didn’t take it, only saying: “I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

Her voice was cold and emotionless, just a bit dry.

“I wouldn’t not come back,” Lyu Shurao said. “Xifeng Ferry is always my home. Father and Aunt are always my family.”

Lyu Qingcheng obviously knew what he meant. She sneered and asked, “Does Su Cheyue bring you joy?”

Lyu Shurao frowned, not liking her choice of words.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Aunt.” His tone was heavy. “The Second Young Master and I share only the name of a married couple, not the reality.”

“Oh?” She seemed calm, but her gaze trembled as it swept over him. “That’s how you describe our relationship to others, too, isn’t it? Just family, nothing else.”

“That is the truth.” Lyu Shurao’s gaze did not waver.

Lyu Qingcheng stared at him for a moment, her eyes suddenly turning red.

She looked away, lowering her lashes. “Get out.”

Lyu Shurao didn’t leave. He pointed at the gold hairpin and asked, “Is Aunt willing to tell me the story between you and him?”

Lyu Qingcheng was startled.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I said before I left—I am not the original Lyu Shurao.”

Lyu Qingcheng looked at him again, still smiling: “A few months have passed, and you’re still using such a clumsy excuse? No progress at all.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have picked red-gold,” Lyu Shurao continued on his own. “I don’t like that color. My mother said that when my father first met her, he often sent her gold—gold rings, gold necklaces, gold earrings. He gave her everything, but in the end, there was no trust or love.”

“Love has nothing to do with gold. Or rather, love shouldn’t start with gold.”

The hatred in Lyu Qingcheng’s eyes turned to surprise: “What are you talking about?”

“I am telling my story. Of course, it’s just my personal opinion; it doesn’t mean it’s definitely correct.”

Lyu Qingcheng watched him, asking suspiciously.

“Then what color do you think love should be?”

Lyu Shurao thought for a bit: “White.”

“White is the purest. You can add gold and silver to it, but the base must be clean and primal.”

Love starts with an impulse; an impulse comes from the primal.

In essence, his views on love were identical to his father’s, Lyu Yizhou. A person who can open that box with a primal fingerprint, a person who can instinctively spark an impulse in him, is unique in the world.

If he couldn’t find or wait for that person, he wouldn’t say “love” easily.

At that moment, Lyu Qingcheng felt a doubt.

“A white hairpin?” She couldn’t imagine it. “You would give a girl a white hairpin?”

“I am different from him.” Lyu Shurao smiled. “Aunt, what do you like about him?”

Lyu Qingcheng blinked her beautiful eyes, the light in them drifting far away.

“A-Yao didn’t like to smile as a child. When others spoke to him, he would ignore them, always staying alone and cold… but he was different with me. He would smile as soon as he saw me.”

“He was so good-looking; men and women alike loved to swarm around him, but he wouldn’t even give them a glance. Others might think him cold; he was indifferent to everyone except his eldest brother. But I knew he would be good to me alone.”

“He would climb through my window in the middle of the night to bring me warm soup, he would practice swordsmanship with me until dawn, and he would personally prepare birthday gifts for me. To buy this hairpin, he took on commissions to save money, not returning home for months. To him, I was different from everyone else.”

Lyu Shurao shook his head and said regretfully: “Then it really is too different.”

Lyu Qingcheng didn’t understand.

“Because I smile at everyone and am good to everyone.” Lyu Shurao drank his tea, playing with the small cup in his hand. “I don’t refuse the requests of others as long as they aren’t too excessive. The Second Young Master loathed me at first and wanted to kill me, but I still greeted him with a smile every day and served him until he was comfortable. Now, he can’t even say a harsh word to me.”

“Lowering myself and acting subservient just to please someone to reach a goal—doesn’t it sound pathetic?”

He stopped playing with the cup, leaned in, and narrowed his eyes: “Lyu Qingcheng, do you like this Lyu Shurao?”

Lyu Qingcheng was stunned. After a long while, she cried out: “A-Yao…?”

“I am not,” Lyu Shurao said sharply. “I really am not. Aunt, think about it carefully.”

He stood up and turned away.

Behind him, Lyu Qingcheng said softly: “Then my A-Yao… will he ever come back?”

Lyu Shurao looked back: “When I leave, perhaps he can return.” He pursed his lips and couldn’t help but add one last reminder, “However, he might equally disappoint you.”

“Why?”

“Never love someone who is only good to you.” One side of his face was calm and steady. “When the day comes that he strips away this disguise and throws all the filth and sin left inside at you, you will be the only one forced to endure the pain.”

“Aunt, thank you for protecting Xifeng Ferry for Father and me. But you really shouldn’t have helped him harm the Second Young Master.”

If one day Su Cheyue learned the truth and wanted revenge, he thought he wouldn’t stop him.

…

Lyu Shurao didn’t sleep well that night.

Truth be told, ever since he left Pingluan Town, he hadn’t had a single night of sound sleep.

The Hatred Value broadcast system didn’t just seem unfixed; it seemed to have completely crashed. it couldn’t report specific values, or even distinguish between increases and decreases.

Furthermore, it rang hundreds of times in twenty-four hours. It rang during the day and during the night. The ringing was most absurd when he was falling asleep or waking up—more annoying than an alarm clock.

[Hatred Value for male lead Su Cheyue has changed. The value is… abnormal. Pending statistics. Please wait patiently.] [Hatred Value for male lead Su Cheyue has changed. The value is abnormal. Pending statistics. Please wait patiently.] [Hatred Value for male lead Su Cheyue has changed. The value is abnormal. Pending statistics. Please wait patiently.]

The broadcast was like a death knell, making Lyu Shurao lose his appetite. Last time, the Hatred Value was only 100. Why was it ringing so frequently now? Why did the system suddenly stall?

Could it be that Su Cheyue’s hatred was skyrocketing so fast the system couldn’t process it??

No way…

Lyu Shurao simply rolled out of bed, rummaged through the desk in his room, and picked out a brush and some stationery.

He hadn’t written since coming to this world; the brushes used by the ancients were truly difficult to handle. He wasn’t sure if he would end up with some illegible scribbles.

But influenced by Su Cheyue, he wanted to try—to feel what it was like to write a letter to someone he missed far away.

An hour later.

Lyu Shurao looked thoughtfully at the sprawling characters on the paper.

“It seems I wrote them a bit too big. One sheet isn’t enough…”

Try again.

Another hour later.

“It’s too ugly! Will Su Cheyue despise my bad handwriting? After all, his writing is so beautiful…”

Try again.

“What should I call him? Second Young Master? Seems too distant. Su Cheyue? Using his full name sounds too aggressive. Cheyue? Is that too intimate?”

Try again.

…

After an hour of failed attempts, he picked the best of the bunch and managed to produce one that was barely acceptable.

“To Second Young Master Su Cheyue:

I hope this letter brings a smile to your face. Please don’t be mad at me.

Leaving was truly not my intention. However, the money I had was not enough to pay Miss Tao. I had no choice but to sacrifice my own accommodation fees to prioritize your medical expenses.

Don’t worry about me. I am just staying in Luzhou for a short while. I will come to see you very soon.

I saw the letters you wrote to my father. They are very cute.

Eat well and sleep well at the He Mansion. Focus on your recovery. Don’t be mad at me. Stay safe and happy at all times.

In fifty-five days, I will bring you home.

Hand-written by Lyu Shurao.”

The literary style wasn’t great, and there were ink splotches on all four corners of the paper, making the letter look like it had a cat’s face.

But except for the reason for his departure—which was a well-intentioned lie—every word was sincere.

Tao Xuanxuan hadn’t explained the reason clearly, and he didn’t want Su Cheyue to be annoyed with her. If a patient doesn’t trust the doctor, how can the illness be cured?

Lyu Shurao solemnly sealed the letter and lay in bed listening to the broadcasts, planning to wait until dawn.

What is Su Cheyue doing now? He should be in a sweet dream, right? I hope he is.

But does he remember to hate me even in his dreams? What does he hate me for?

Does he hate me for leaving without a word? For breaking my promise? Or does he continue to hate me for the Ghost Purgatory?

Or… is it that night?

In an era without cell phones, the smallest attachment would be magnified into missing someone.

…Missing him?

The word seemed unfamiliar, yet it emerged easily and naturally, as if it had already been circling in his heart countless times.

…

At daybreak, Lyu Qingsong came to Lyu Shurao’s quarters to ask what he wanted to eat today.

He saw the young man in purple light-armor already up, half-crouching in his courtyard, tinkering with something.

“A-Yao?”

Lyu Shurao turned around. His face, half-obedient and half-enchanting, was smeared with reddish-brown wet mud, giving him a naturally innocent yet seductive look.

The moist air after the rain was filled with the scent of earth, fresh and fragrant.

“What are you doing?” Lyu Qingsong approached. “Planting a tree?”

Lyu Shurao wiped his cheek with his hand, spreading the mud more evenly. He smiled unnaturally: “Good morning, Father.”

“You never used to like these things.” Lyu Qingsong looked at the bare courtyard in surprise.

“I felt it was too empty and not nice to look at,” Lyu Shurao said. “Just planting a few things.”

“What kind of tree?” Lyu Qingsong leaned in to look. Lyu Shurao covered the seeds with earth. “Just an ordinary tree, nothing special.”

“It’s winter now. You’ll have to wait until spring for the branches to sprout.”

Lyu Shurao looked down and touched the tip of his nose. “Yeah. I guess I’ll be leaving before I see it bloom or bear fruit.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Did you come here for something, Father?”

“Oh,” Lyu Qingsong slapped his forehead. “I came to ask what you most want to eat now that you’re home. I’ll have them make more of it.”

Lyu Shurao was stunned. “Just for that?”

Lyu Qingsong said: “This is very important.”

Lyu Shurao had never thought it was important because no one had ever cared about what he liked to eat. Since his parents’ marriage broke down, every time he came home from school, there was no food on the dining table—only scissors, courier knives, cell phones, paper, and pens—just a mess of things.

At times like those, he would put down his backpack and call out, “Mom.”

Either no one answered, or Shen Yun’s voice would drift out from the room, muffled and distant.

“Order takeout if you’re hungry.” Or, “There’s no food at home, go eat out.”

Lyu Shurao would silently go downstairs and buy a bowl of wontons, sitting in the quiet shop during dinner time, expressionless, eating the piping hot wontons in a daze.

While in a daze, he would think: Why is ‘dining table’ even a category of furniture? It seems useless.

Maybe I should donate the dining table at home to someone who needs it.

“I remember you used to love sweets, but Cheyue’s letter said your tastes seem to have changed. He couldn’t tell what you like to eat now…”

When he was with Su Cheyue, Lyu Shurao rarely made food to his own taste; he mostly made whatever Su Cheyue liked.

Over time, he seemed to have grown accustomed to sweets.

He just hadn’t expected that his quiet accommodations had been noticed by Su Cheyue—that Su Cheyue realized he didn’t actually like sweets that much.

Lyu Shurao wasn’t a picky eater and had no dietary restrictions. Suddenly being asked what he liked or wanted to eat, he really couldn’t answer for a moment.

But…

He did have a flavor he missed very much right now.

“Are there any green pears in Luzhou in winter, Father?”