#45: Jealousy

Bian Qingxuan had lied. She hadn’t returned empty-handed; last night, she had secretly visited the military camp of Southern Yue alone.

She concealed her presence and walked around the camp, initially finding nothing unusual.

The only oddity was that there were far too few soldiers in Southern Yue’s army. After scanning the area, she estimated there were no more than a thousand men in the entire camp.

After pondering for a moment, Bian Qingxuan began searching for hidden passages.

Eventually, she discovered a cave at the outskirts of the city behind the camp, shrouded in demonic energy. After observing it for a while, she deduced what lay beneath the ground.

The demonic energy was thick, and the entrance to the cave was a death trap. Ordinary cultivators who ventured in would likely never return.

She had no intention of provoking Zhu Yan. Dealing with these things would have to wait until Bian Lingyu arrived. Bian Qingxuan transformed her divine artifact into a spirit bird and sent it flying underground. When the artifact returned to her hand, she had already pieced together what had happened in Southern Yue over the years.

But there was no need to inform the disciples. What could these ordinary cultivators do against Zhu Yan? Matters originating from the divine realm required divine beings to resolve.

Seeing that she hadn’t made any discoveries, the disciples grew deeply worried.

They expressed some concern for Bian Qingxuan, and traces of their past affection for her were still visible. However, their attention was now more focused on Wei Changyuan’s condition.

Bian Qingxuan paid no mind to their attitudes. Now that Shi Luoyi was no longer at Mingyou Mountain, she no longer needed to control these disciples.

She decided to stop pretending. Since Wei Changyuan refused her medicine, she simply cradled her sword, closed her eyes, and rested in a tree.

Seeing her truly abandon Wei Changyuan, the other disciples exchanged glances. One whispered: “Don’t you think Junior Sister has changed?”

Changed? That was an understatement. The Bian Qingxuan of the past had been tender and affectionate. Whenever a disciple was injured, she would rush to their side with tears in her eyes, making Shi Luoyi appear cold and indifferent by comparison.

In the past, Junior Sister had been so close to Senior Brother Wei. But now, despite Wei’s severe injuries, she showed no concern, not even offering a helping hand. She merely watched him coldly, tossing him a bottle of healing pills earlier, which he hadn’t accepted.

Bian Qingxuan didn’t even sit among the disciples with her usual cheerful laughter anymore.

Their hushed whispers naturally didn’t escape Bian Qingxuan’s ears. She opened her eyes and glanced down at them: “What are you all saying about me? If you’re not meditating or letting Senior Brother Wei rest, will you fight the demon when it comes?”

For some reason, upon meeting her gaze, they all fell silent without hesitation.

Her expression remained cold: “Go meditate, and don’t let me hear another word.”

With Wei Changyuan injured, the disciples feared another attack from the shadow. Among them, Bian Qingxuan was the strongest cultivator, and they relied on her even for their daily Ice Lotus tasks. Though their faces flushed with embarrassment, they dared not disobey her, fearing she might abandon them altogether.

Bian Qingxuan watched as they dispersed to meditate. Had Wei Changyuan not shielded them, every single one of them would be dead by now.

She lowered her gaze to Wei Changyuan once more. Despite his injuries, he was still instructing a crane to deliver a message to their sect, reporting the anomalies in Southern Yue and requesting reinforcements.

Bian Qingxuan watched the crane fly toward Mingyou Mountain, idly playing with the tassel of her sword, making no move to stop it.

What was the point? Even now, Wei Changyuan remained stubborn, blind to his master’s true nature.

He didn’t even realize his master’s malice toward Little Peacock.

That old fox of a sect leader was cunning. Danger? He would only shrink back like a turtle.

During the demon-slaying battle ten years ago, countless cultivators sacrificed themselves, and Bian Qingxuan fought until she could no longer maintain her human form, surrounded by corpses. Yet, she never saw that old man. In contrast, Shi Luoyi’s father, a sword cultivator, gave his life to drag several fallen demons into the Delusion Sea, earning Bian Qingxuan’s respect.

The sect leader was such a coward that with Zhu Yan here, he would certainly not come in person.

Wei Changyuan sending the crane was futile.

All Bian Qingxuan needed to do now was wait. Once Bian Lingyu arrived, he would surely recognize Zhu Yan. And when he came to kill Zhu Yan, he wouldn’t risk bringing Shi Luoyi along.

Bian Qingxuan had no intention of confronting Bian Lingyu directly. Though he appeared calm and detached, she knew that if anyone harmed Shi Luoyi, he would become a rabid dog.

Bian Qingxuan understood this was her last chance. She would attempt to take Shi Luoyi away.

This time, she was willing to use her divine artifact, defy the heavenly laws, and construct a grand illusion to force Shi Luoyi into demonic possession.

The gray sky reflected in her eyes, revealing the ruthless determination and coldness within her gaze.

After settling the Luan bird and celestial carriage, Shi Luoyi found an inn in the city. By the time they checked in, it was already late into the night.

Shi Luoyi arranged a room for Hui Xiang, while she shared one with Bian Lingyu.

They had just finished washing up when a large contingent of soldiers arrived outside the inn.

The inn was surrounded. The owner and his wife cowered in the corner, their eyes wide with shock as they stared at Zhao Shu, who led the troops.

They weren’t mistaken—this man was wearing the emperor’s robes.

Zhao Shu sat astride his horse, still clad in his imperial regalia, and called out: “Immortal Lady Luo Yi, I’ve come to apologize and escort you back to the palace.”

Red lanterns hung from the upper floors of the inn. Shi Luoyi heard the commotion outside and pushed open the window, surprised to see Zhao Shu below.

“The new emperor of Southern Yue, Zhao Shu?”

“It’s me,” he replied, omitting the royal “I” this time. Zhao Shu looked up at her. Beneath the gloomy sky, Southern Yue seemed on the verge of a storm. Amidst the myriad lights, her delicate face appeared breathtaking.

It had been thirteen years since Zhao Shu last saw Shi Luoyi. When they first met, he was barely surviving in the imperial mausoleum. Though fifteen years old—already the age when royal boys were assigned maidservants to educate them—he looked like a child of twelve or thirteen.

Now, Zhao Shu had sharp brows and bright eyes, his body enveloped in the aura of a dragon.

Yet Shi Luoyi’s gaze toward him remained unchanged. She hadn’t looked down on him when he resembled a beggar, nor did she treat him differently now that he was the new emperor.

As always, her eyes were distant, aloof, and filled with scrutiny.

Under her gaze, however, Zhao Shu was still exhilarated. He smiled warmly and said: “Thirteen years have passed since we last met. How is the immortal lady faring?”

Shi Luoyi frowned slightly, unsure of what Zhao Shu was up to. In the past, when her father Shi Huan was alive, they never encountered such a scene—a new emperor riding out in the middle of the night with an army to welcome them back.

She replied: “I’m fine. You may leave. Your concubine should have already explained to you—I only took a painting my father made for my mother. Everything else remains in Yongyang Palace.”

As she spoke, she discreetly observed Zhao Shu. Shi Luoyi had already sensed something amiss in Southern Yue. She feared Zhao Shu might have become a monster, like Jiang Yan.

However, Zhao Shu’s dragon qi was overwhelmingly strong. No matter how she looked at him, he didn’t resemble a monster.

Monsters couldn’t possess dragon qi.

Zhao Shu’s eyes flickered with a shadow of darkness when Shi Luoyi mentioned the “consort,” but he quickly masked it, lifting his lips into a smile: “I have come to apologize. The consort was ignorant and offended you. I had long decreed that Princess Wan Qian’s palace be preserved intact, ready for your return whenever you wished to stay.”

As they conversed, Shi Luoyi leaned halfway out of the window while Bian Lingyu sat at the table sipping tea.

His gaze was lowered, his expression cold and detached. The bitterness of the tea lingered in his mouth as he absently rubbed the rim of the cup, his emotions unreadable—neither joy nor anger visible.

Bian Lingyu heard Shi Luoyi by the window say: “There’s no need. I’m quite comfortable here. This visit to Southern Yue is solely to pay respects to my mother. Your Majesty need not make such a fuss, and I hold no grudge against the consort.”

Zhao Shu dismounted his horse: “It was Southern Yue’s impropriety first, Immortal Lady. If you do not return with me, I will remain deeply uneasy. Tell me how I may make amends.”

“I…” Shi Luoyi began to respond, but a hand suddenly covered her lips from behind. Bian Lingyu had approached unnoticed, his faint scent of cold cedar enveloping her. Her head rested against his chest.

Bian Lingyu lowered his gaze, meeting Zhao Shu’s eyes, and said indifferently: “We are already settled in. Whatever you wish to discuss can wait until later.”

The smile in Zhao Shu’s eyes faded, and he regarded Bian Lingyu with an inscrutable expression.

Bian Lingyu’s demeanor remained aloof. If one ignored the hand covering Shi Luoyi’s lips, his lofty gaze sweeping over all living things made him appear even more like a true immortal being than Shi Luoyi herself.

Arrogant, cold, compassionate—nothing in this world seemed to matter to him.

Without waiting for Zhao Shu’s response, Bian Lingyu raised his hand and closed the window. Once shut, the room grew warm, and not even the night breeze could seep in.

Shi Luoyi realized she had been released. Bian Lingyu’s grip had been firm enough to leave faint red marks on her skin. She tilted her head in confusion: “Why did you cover my mouth?”

Against the candlelight, Bian Lingyu glanced at her. His face was obscured, but his voice remained calm: “You wanted to send him away, didn’t you? That was the best way to do it.”

Shi Luoyi thought for a moment and found his reasoning sound. No matter what she had said earlier, Zhao Shu had insisted on escorting her back to the palace. But after Bian Lingyu spoke those words, Zhao Shu fell silent.

“Did I hurt you? Let me see.”

Shi Luoyi shook her head. Though Bian Lingyu’s grip had been strong, it hadn’t injured her. However, her lips felt strange after being covered for so long.

Yet her chin was already lifted, and Bian Lingyu, taller than her, gazed down at her lips and chin. His thumb gently wiped away the faint marks on her cheek: “It’s red.”

Shi Luoyi felt awkward in this position. The gentle brush of his fingers against her skin inexplicably made her cheeks flush. Still, Bian Lingyu didn’t move aside, trapping her against the window.

She turned her head, avoiding his touch: “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

She rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand to emphasize that she was unharmed.

Bian Lingyu gave a low hum and said nothing further.

Seeing that he still hadn’t moved, Shi Luoyi asked in confusion: “Do you have something else to say?”

She looked up at him. In the candlelight, his gaze was cool and distant: “Why don’t you ask if we’ll kiss tonight?”

“Huh?” Shi Luoyi was momentarily stunned. How had the topic shifted to this?

“You haven’t asked in a long time.”

Shi Luoyi’s expression grew complicated: “Didn’t you say earlier that we wouldn’t?”

“Ask again.”

She sighed inwardly, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation: “It’s so late. We still need to visit my mother’s tomb tomorrow.”

They had just finished speaking with Zhao Shu, and her mind was full of questions about his peculiar behavior, which reminded her of the shadow of the Immortal Toad. She couldn’t fathom why Bian Lingyu would suddenly bring this up now.

Upon hearing her words, Bian Lingyu pressed his lips together and glanced at her. He finally relented and stepped aside.

Shi Luoyi waited a while longer until she heard Zhao Shu and his troops depart before climbing into bed to rest.

As usual, she lay on the inside, leaving most of the space outside for Bian Lingyu.

Once unfamiliar, now accustomed, having Bian Lingyu lie beside her no longer felt strange.

But Bian Lingyu lingered for a long time. He stood by the window for a while, then returned to sip cold tea at the table, seemingly trying to calm himself.

By the time Shi Luoyi grew puzzled enough to ask what was wrong, he finally lay down beside her.

He closed his eyes, as serene as ever, his sleeping form resembling a meticulously carved statue of cold jade.

Shi Luoyi blinked. During the time she had lain there, she had quietly pondered what was troubling him. She had never seen him act this way before.

After much thought, an incredible idea surfaced in her mind—could he be jealous? Jealous of Zhao Shu? How could that be? She barely knew Zhao Shu, and they had only exchanged a few words.

But Bian Lingyu liking her was already something she found difficult to imagine. Perhaps anything else shouldn’t be surprising either.

Beside her, Bian Lingyu appeared to be asleep. After some thought, Shi Luoyi decided to ask. They hadn’t kissed many times, and she still wasn’t used to it. Suppressing her embarrassment, she tried to sound casual: “So… Bian Lingyu, do you want to kiss tonight?”

Bian Lingyu opened his eyes.

His answer was to lean over her. Shi Luoyi tasted the bitterness of cold tea.

The inn’s tea wasn’t particularly good, and she endured its flavor for a long while, only tasting the faintest hint of sweetness at the end.

Whenever she couldn’t bear it in the past, she would turn her head away first. This time was no different. She turned her head, wanting to tell him, “That’s enough. It’s fine like this!”

The person above her paused, not forcing her face back.

His slightly heated lips landed on her fair, slender neck. It tickled, but more than that, it made her heart tremble.

Fearing this unfamiliar sensation, she instinctively pushed at his head: “Bian Lingyu… Bian Lingyu.”

Bian Lingyu raised his head. His pale lips now carried a hint of color. He leaned down and kissed her eyelids lightly: “I heard you.”

Her face burned, and she nodded, whispering softly: “Mm… Are you jealous?”

He paused, his features clean and cold, and denied: “No.”