#38: Bathing

The sky was overcast, and it had rained all night.

Bian Qingxuan was imprisoned by the formation on the ground. She no longer cried but silently stared at Bu Ye Mountain.

Bian Lingyu had said that after he died, he would give her his body so she could shatter the heavens and return home. But what use was returning?

Blood trickled from the corner of her lips as she closed her eyes.

It was raining again—such an overwhelming rain, just like before.

In her mind, she saw the scene of her mother’s death. She had knelt for seven days straight, holding the Jiuzhou Cauldron, until finally, the eldest son arrived. He smiled with deep, cruel intent: “My mother has calmed down and allows you to take that wretched woman away. Kneel and thank me, you bastard child.”

Her face pale, she set down the Jiuzhou Cauldron and ran toward where her mother had been held.

But she was too late. What greeted her was a broken, cold corpse.

How laughable. The wife of the leader of a noble clan hadn’t even been trampled to death by humans—but by a group of beasts whose minds were still unawakened, driven mad by drugs.

The eldest son watched her with satisfaction. In the vast arena filled with beasts, the crowd whispered and laughed to please him: “I heard the Chifeng race carries the ancient bloodlines of the White Xi and Meiyao spirits. I thought it was just a rumor, but seeing how those beasts went wild for this wretch, I believe it now.”

She cradled her mother’s mutilated body. There were no tears in her eyes—only a coldness that seemed to freeze a thousand miles.

The eldest son chuckled softly: “You lowly bastard, curb your ambitions. Since your Chifeng clan betrayed the gods and was condemned to servitude for generations, know your place—or next time, it’ll be you lying here.”

Their arrogant laughter and the numb, pleading gazes of her clansmen intertwined repeatedly in Bian Qingxuan’s mind. In the end, they morphed into the gaze Bian Lingyu had given her last night.

Qingxuan, he had said, you can go home.

Yes, she could go home—but to do what? To live forever as a slave, trampled upon like the eldest son had said? To wear shackles like countless of her clansmen, spreading their legs numbly while being mercilessly violated?

She was the last hope of the Chifeng. Generation after generation, her clansmen had used their corpses to forge the Liuli Divine Flute for her. Even if she burned every last drop of her blood, she would never die in such a pathetic manner!

Bian Qingxuan was certain she hadn’t taken the wrong path.

She had once been destined to become the Empress of the Gods. The young god Bian Lingyu had been imprisoned in Heaven’s Blaze Ravine for seven hundred years—he didn’t understand love or worldly affairs, was aloof and indifferent, yet pure-hearted and easy to deceive. She had followed him into the mortal realm, slaying fallen beasts, and planned to wait until Bian Lingyu fell in love with her, gaining power and strength.

If the young god had been willing, every union with him would have been akin to an infusion of divine power.

The previous God-King had loved the former Goddess-Queen so deeply that he sacrificed himself to nurture her. Thus, Bian Lingyu’s mother had possessed such abundant divine power that she could scheme and retaliate against the gods, even imprisoning her newborn son.

But despite her meticulous planning, she hadn’t anticipated that the seductive bloodline of the Chifeng couldn’t compete with Shi Luoyi’s laughable embrace in the Delusion Sea.

The Liuli Divine Flute hovered in the air, sensing its master’s despondent and darkened emotions. It flew to Bian Qingxuan’s cheek and gently patted her shoulder in comfort.

She turned her head and looked at the divine artifact, her voice cold as she promised: “I’m fine. I remember what I must do.”

The artifact obeyed her will and merged back into her body.

She coughed violently, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Bian Qingxuan hadn’t expected that even in his weakened state, Bian Lingyu could still inflict such severe injuries upon her.

She waited for the spiritual energy of the bamboo figurines to weaken, hoping to break free from this cage.

Even if the situation seemed hopeless, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

So what if it meant betraying the gods? The Chifeng had already reached their end. If she couldn’t obtain Bian Lingyu’s power, she would reclaim the divine pearl inside Shi Luoyi’s body.

This time, she wouldn’t cling to that pitiful warmth or let Shi Luoyi slip through her fingers again.

The rain battered down on her, loud and relentless. Her injuries were severe, and for the first time, she felt the helplessness of Bian Lingyu’s mortal body. Her heart grew restless as she glared at the gray sky.

In the distance, a figure clad in a black robe slowly approached her.

“Such a pity. Do you need my help to get out?”

Bian Qingxuan turned her head to look. Under the gloomy sky, the newcomer wore a pitch-black cloak—an enchanted artifact—that concealed his face, making it impossible to see clearly.

She spoke coldly: “A demon who killed Zhang Xiangyang dares to pity me? Leave.”

The man seemed surprised that she had guessed his identity and laughed: “What does it have to do with me? In the disciples’ eyes, Zhang Xiangyang’s death remains a mystery. In Shi Luoyi’s heart, she believes you killed him.”

Bian Qingxuan sneered. Yes, in little peacock’s mind, she was always the one behind every evil deed. She ignored him, her heart growing increasingly irritated. Bu Ye Mountain remained brightly lit, brimming with celebration, but she was consumed by frustration, unwilling to spare him another glance.

He raised his hand, attempting to embed a puppet life talisman into her body.

Bian Qingxuan watched him coldly. The talisman struck the bamboo figurines instead, blocked by several of them. Without any wind, the talisman burst into flames, destroyed completely with both gentleness and indifference.

The cloaked man froze.

She mocked him: “What are you, just a fallen demon? Even if the person who imprisoned me here is crippled, you won’t be able to break through his barriers!”

The cloaked man finally showed signs of anger, glaring at her coldly before turning and leaving.

________________________________________

On Bu Ye Mountain, Shi Luoyi had only closed her eyes briefly. Even though her spiritual energy was depleted, she dared not fall asleep, fearing Bian Lingyu’s condition might worsen without her noticing.

Dawn was approaching, and the charcoal braziers in the room were about to burn out.

Shi Luoyi moved to add more charcoal, but Bian Lingyu stopped her.

She asked, “Is there anywhere that still feels uncomfortable?”

“I’m fine.”

Shi Luoyi studied his face, noticing he still lacked color. Drenched in sweat, he furrowed his brows, clearly uncomfortable. Yet, he hadn’t uttered a single sound, enduring everything silently.

The room was utterly quiet. She had never seen such a composed patient. Even Han Shu had said his injuries were difficult to treat and should cause immense pain, yet he remained calm and detached, as if the suffering didn’t belong to him.

Shi Luoyi drew closer, sitting beside him. Sighing inwardly, she leaned in and asked, “Are you really not uncomfortable anywhere?”

Under the blanket, Bian Lingyu still clutched the Ruyi Lock she had given him and shook his head.

Seeing her lean closer, he tried to pull away. Last night, she had lit over a dozen charcoal braziers, turning the room into a furnace. His body was drenched in sticky sweat, and he had vomited blood. With the lingering smell of alcohol, he knew he must smell terrible. Bian Lingyu had experienced worse conditions before, but this was the first time he had appeared so disheveled in front of Shi Luoyi.

The young girl raised her hand as if to touch his hair.

Bian Lingyu turned his head away, beads of sweat forming on his forehead: “Don’t…”

A cleansing spell flowed from her fingertips, gentle and soothing, washing away most of his discomfort. He stiffened, gripping the Ruyi Lock in his palm even tighter, and looked at her.

Under the dim morning light, the dragon and phoenix candles had burned out.

She spoke softly: “If you’re in pain or discomfort, you need to tell me, Bian Lingyu. Don’t hold it in.”

He lowered his eyes, and after a long while, responded faintly: “Mm.”

No one had ever said such words to him before. His mother’s most frequent advice was simple: “You won’t die anyway—your divine body can endure. If it hurts, just endure it.”

Shi Luoyi felt a strange sense of wonder. If this had happened years ago, she wouldn’t have dared to reach out to touch him—he would have coldly told her not to.

She couldn’t help but smile. Even in her past life, up until her death, she never imagined a moment like this could exist.

But thinking about how, after she fell into demonic corruption, Bian Lingyu might not have lived as peacefully as she once assumed—more likely, he had been abandoned by Bian Qingxuan and left to die humiliated on some desolate mountain—her heart grew heavy.

Now, she vowed not to let such a tragic end befall him again. He was her family now.

“The sky will brighten soon. Is there anything you’d like to eat? I’ll have someone prepare it,” Shi Luoyi asked.

Bian Lingyu pursed his lips and shook his head. His heart had been pierced, his organs shattered. Though he could feel hunger, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Without his divine pearl, his body was trying its best to heal itself—but it was a futile effort, like trying to fill an ocean with a cup of water.

“Then is there anything else you want?”

The morning breeze carried the refreshing scent of Bu Ye Mountain into the room. Bian Lingyu had never been treated like this before. He hadn’t expected… even in this sham of a marriage, she would treat him so kindly.

This felt more like a dream than last night. He had no intention of speaking at first, but looking into her bright, earnest eyes, he finally opened his mouth in a hoarse voice, expressing his wish for the first time: “I want to bathe.”

Shi Luoyi was taken aback, then couldn’t help but laugh: “You’re so particular about cleanliness—how did you manage to survive in those barren mountains back then?”

He didn’t respond, his dark gray pupils hidden beneath thick black lashes.

It was rare for him to make a request, and though Shi Luoyi thought it inappropriate at this moment, she still wanted to do her best to fulfill his wish.

While the cleansing spell could remove dirt, it couldn’t dispel the lingering sense of discomfort. Therefore, even cultivators often preferred bathing unless they were on long journeys.

Shi Luoyi tidied up the brocade quilts on the floor: “Wait here—I’ll go call Ding Bai.”

There were hot springs on Bu Ye Immortal Mountain, but now the spiritual energy of the gathered cultivators enveloped the entire mountain, essentially planting countless pairs of watchful eyes. Naturally, Shi Luoyi wouldn’t let Bian Lingyu bathe under such conditions.

She instructed the spirit creatures to draw hot spring water into a wooden tub, then went to wake Ding Bai.

When she returned to the room, she saw that Bian Lingyu had already sat up on his own.

He was still wearing the bright red ceremonial robe from yesterday, and the little spirits bustling around with buckets of water curiously glanced at him.

Shi Luoyi patted their heads: “No peeking—just focus on your work.”

She supervised them filling the tub, eyeing the half-concealing screen that failed to hide anything, feeling a headache coming on. The bath was large, and she worried that Bian Lingyu, in his weakened state, might not have the strength to prevent himself from choking on water.

That fox spirit was definitely going to get a beating from her sooner or later.

Once the water was ready, Shi Luoyi instructed Ding Bai: “Take good care of him. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Ding Bai nodded repeatedly, patting his chest to assure her.

Shi Luoyi closed the door and stepped outside. She was still worried about whether Ding Bai could handle the task—he was just a young boy, after all. And though Bian Lingyu’s body was frail, he was tall and not thin.

Her concerns weren’t unfounded. It took Ding Bai quite a while to help Bian Lingyu reach the edge of the tub. A fresh layer of cold sweat formed on Bian Lingyu’s forehead.

In the early years, when Bian Lingyu’s bones were shattered and scales still covered his face, Ding Bai was even younger and could only wipe his body with a damp cloth.

Later, as Bian Lingyu gradually recovered, he no longer needed Ding Bai’s assistance. Bathing and dressing were things Bian Lingyu handled on his own.

But this time, his injuries were severe—raising his arms was nearly impossible.

Ding Bai helped Bian Lingyu undress. Bian Lingyu remained calm and indifferent, showing no sign of pain even in his current state. As he slowly entered the bath, the discomfort faded slightly.

A charcoal brazier burned beside the tub, keeping the air warm and cozy—it wasn’t cold.

Ding Bai stood nearby, his expression conflicted, several times opening his mouth to speak but hesitating.

Bian Lingyu gave him a cold glance: “Leave.”

“Oh.” Ding Bai stammered, “Master, before I leave, can I ask you a question?”

“Mm.”

Ding Bai’s face turned red: “Will mine… grow to be as big as yours?” His tone was filled with both envy and awe.

After a long pause, a vein on Bian Lingyu’s forehead twitched as he took a deep breath: “Get out!”

Ding Bai quickly scurried away. Truthfully, this was a question he had wanted to ask for a long time. Most men couldn’t help but care about such things. When he was younger, he didn’t understand. But as he grew older, he began to notice the differences between himself and Bian Lingyu. Every time he compared himself to Bian Lingyu, he felt disheartened, assuming he was simply too young.

Now that he was thirteen (fourteen in mortal terms, considered old enough to understand), he had recently stayed with the outer disciples and realized the gap between them and Bian Lingyu was still vast. With no parents to ask, he mustered the courage to pose the question.

Outside, Shi Luoyi waited in a small pavilion. She instructed the spirit creatures to prepare some food for Bian Lingyu while reviewing the accumulated affairs of Bu Ye Mountain over the years.

All shape-shifting spirits had to be registered and monitored.

Bu Ye Mountain was the only place in the world that tolerated so many spirits. With Shi Huan gone, Shi Luoyi now provided them a sanctuary—but she absolutely forbade them from harming others.

Seeing Ding Bai emerge with a startled expression, she frowned and beckoned him over: “What happened? Is the bathing done?”

Ding Bai shook his head, dejected: “Master kicked me out.”

“What happened?”

“I just… asked him a question.”

“What kind of question?”

Ding Bai’s face turned beet red, and he refused to say another word. Unable to pry further, Shi Luoyi sighed: “Alright, don’t wander too far. Bian Lingyu might need your help again later.”

Ding Bai nodded.

Afterward, Bian Lingyu didn’t call Ding Bai back. He dressed himself and sat in his wheelchair before finally opening the door. A long time had passed—so long that Shi Luoyi grew anxious, fearing he might have choked on water or encountered trouble. She couldn’t imagine how much effort it had cost him to accomplish all this on his own.

The breakfast Shi Luoyi had ordered was ready by then, but the wind outside was strong, so she decided to eat with Bian Lingyu indoors.

Sitting across from Bian Lingyu at the table, Shi Luoyi felt a sense of unreality. Ever since her father had gone to the Delusion Sea ten years ago to slay the fallen demons, she hadn’t shared a meal like this with anyone.

In the past, her father had always taken care of her when she was young. Now, she had someone she needed to care for and worry about.

The entire mountain, including Bian Lingyu, was now her responsibility.

Bian Lingyu still couldn’t eat much, but sitting across from her, with the mountain’s spring flowers budding and Bu Ye Mountain welcoming the arrival of spring, he endured the intense pain in his chest and forced himself to swallow the food.

Shi Luoyi held a cup of spirit tea, pleased that he was able to eat something.

Whether it was cultivators, mortals, or spirits, as long as one could eat and sleep, their body would always have a chance to recover.

She recalled the earlier incident and asked Bian Lingyu: “Ding Bai said he only asked you one question, and you kicked him out. What did he ask?”

“…”

Shi Luoyi found it strange. In the past, she had thought Bian Lingyu had a terrible temper, but now she found him kind—certainly not the type to lash out at a young boy without reason.

What kind of question could have made Bian Lingyu so angry that he threw someone out?

Bian Lingyu raised his head to look at her. The young girl rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes bright like the spring sun, brimming with curiosity.

Under her clear gaze, Bian Lingyu tightened his grip on his chopsticks. When Ding Bai had asked, he had felt anger flare up, but now, with her asking, he felt a faint sense of embarrassment. His voice hoarse, he muttered: “You wouldn’t want to know. Don’t ask.”