Chapter 56
Chapter 56
Qiao Ying pressed her ear to the door and listened to the movement outside.
The three pairs entered the rooms directly across from theirs and on either side, as though surrounding her.
She valued her life. After pacing for a while, she said, “This is so strange. I feel like they’re copying everything we do. Have we really run into ghosts, or perhaps a pack of lunatics?”
“Shen Qingyu…”
Qiao Ying turned around and abruptly fell silent.
Shen Qingyu sat obediently at the edge of the bed, one slender hand stroking the Blind Staff on his lap at irregular intervals. An air of vacant foolishness surrounded him.
The young man who habitually met the world with a smile now looked more innocent and bewildered than a three-year-old child.
Qiao Ying walked over and bent down to peer at him. “Shen Qingyu, what’s wrong?”
Perhaps her voice called him back to his senses. Or perhaps it only confused him further.
He set aside the Blind Staff and opened his arms toward her.
Qiao Ying blinked. After a brief silence, she saw that he had no intention of lowering them and asked, “What are you doing?”
Shen Qingyu tilted his head, the long hair behind him swaying and blurring light with shadow.
“No hug?”
“Why should we hug?”
Shen Qingyu slowly lowered his hands and pressed his lips together. “Oh.”
He usually seemed quite shrewd. Now he looked like a fool.
Qiao Ying suspected hunger had addled his mind. She unwrapped the sweet potato in her handkerchief, peeled away the skin, and held it to his lips. “I think something is very wrong with this place.”
As always, Shen Qingyu ate whatever she fed him. This time was no exception.
He took a small bite of the warm food and silently listened to her ramble.
“Think about it. What are the odds of so many people seeking shelter from the rain in the same place?”
“And every one of them is going to Yunling Prefecture. Even that might be a coincidence, but they all think the fifteenth is an auspicious day!”
“They also seem to be imitating our every move. Shen Qingyu, are you certain there are no Yaoguai or ghosts here?”
Her hands never stopped while she muttered. She peeled the sweet potato a little farther down, then held it to his mouth again so he could eat more easily.
Shen Qingyu smelled its sweet fragrance. The soft, tingling sensation within his body grew even stranger.
He stopped eating and fell into a long silence.
Qiao Ying noticed something was wrong. “Shen Qingyu, are you unwell? Oh no! Was the sweet potato poisoned?”
Since Shen Qingyu had accepted the sweet potato himself, she had assumed it was ordinary food. But now something seemed off about him from head to toe, and she did not know what to do.
His lips suddenly moved, and a bright laugh escaped him.
“I understand now.”
Qiao Ying was baffled. “Understand what?”
“People favor only those they like.” Shen Qingyu raised his face. The emptiness in his expression had been filled with joy, and the new vitality made his beauty all the more striking. “You like me.”
Qiao Ying said nothing.
He had been acting strangely ever since they returned to the room because he had spent all that time pondering this one question.
Shen Qingyu slipped his arms around her waist and applied the slightest pressure. Her body tipped forward into his embrace.
It was like sinking into a familiar sea of soft clouds. His warmth closed around her, leaving no room for her arms or legs to stretch.
He lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against her hair in a gesture of affection between small animals.
Once again, she felt that purring vibration deep in his throat. It mingled with his laughter, low and husky, sending strange warmth along the weave of her clothes and into every limb.
“Yingying.”
“What?”
He pressed his cheek to hers. “You smell like me.”
Forced to curl in his arms, her face squashed round by his cheek, Qiao Ying found almost every inch of space claimed by him. There was nowhere to retreat. Calmly abandoning resistance, she bit into the remaining sweet potato and gave an indifferent “Oh.”
But Shen Qingyu had become clever Shen Qingyu again. His fingertips found her earlobe. Small and soft, it was hot.
He smiled. “You’re sick again.”
“No, I’m not…”
Before she could finish, he lifted her chin and sealed away every unspoken word.
Naturally, this dose of medicine tasted like roasted sweet potato.
That night, Qiao Ying slept fitfully in the young man’s arms and vaguely heard voices outside.
“What are we supposed to do? She insists on keeping these two here. Something will go wrong sooner or later!”
“I know that. That man… he’s terrifying.”
“For some reason, I don’t think he wants to leave anymore. He wants to stay. Think of something. Drive them away.”
“What can I possibly do?”
“What if we kidnap the woman and threaten the man into leaving?”
Qiao Ying’s eyes flew open. Shen Qingyu’s smiling face was directly before her.
He had not slept. He had held her for half the night and “watched” her the entire time.
Waking to that magnificent face at such close range struck Qiao Ying with considerable force. After taking a moment to recover, she raised her head and whispered, “Shen Qingyu, someone wants to kidnap me.”
He touched one index finger to her lips. “Shh.”
Then he turned his face and gestured for her to look outside.
Qiao Ying turned and nearly suffered a heart attack.
Thunder rolled beyond the window, and the lightning lost none of its sinister, icy brilliance.
The moment a deathly white flash tore through the night, a long, distorted shadow appeared upon the paper window.
The figure clung upside down outside. Its hair hung in long strands past the lattice, like strips of black cloth soaked through with water, swaying gently in the violent wind.
Worse still, a tree branch scraped the paper again and again. Each stroke produced a faint ripping sound, as though the window might be punctured at any second and the inverted figure would burst inside to devour them.
Qiao Ying had never seen anything so ghastly. Drawing in her hands and feet, she curled herself as tightly as possible, desperate to hide inside the young man’s embrace.
“Sh-Sh-Shen… Shen Qingyu, is-is-is… is that a ghost?”
She stammered so badly that she could not form a complete sentence.
Shen Qingyu covered her eyes with one hand and spoke with tender gentleness. “Don’t be afraid, Yingying. You’re dreaming. Everything will be fine when you wake up.”
His voice seemed to possess a magical power. Sleepiness immediately overtook Qiao Ying. Her head drooped, and she fell into a dream.
The rain stopped the next morning.
Qiao Ying sprang awake. After a moment of confusion, she remembered the terrifying “dream” from the night before. Without another word, she dragged Shen Qingyu out of the temple at first light.
“There’s something wrong with this place. We should leave immediately!”
At dusk, dark clouds gathered once more, threatening another downpour.
The two Stone Lions outside Guang’en Temple remained exactly where they had always been. As raindrops struck their heads, more travelers arrived at the entrance seeking shelter.
Qiao Ying pushed open the door and heard a girl inside scream about ghosts.
A betrothed couple occupied the hall.
Soon, two young cousins arrived.
Finally, an elderly couple entered.
For some reason, the scene before Qiao Ying felt increasingly familiar. A chill crept down her back. Even beside the fire, she could not get warm.
Only when Shen Qingyu took her hand did some warmth return to her body.
The girl named Lingling asked, “Miss Qiao, Young Master Shen, you’re planning to marry on the fifteenth, aren’t you? It’s such an auspicious day.”
The old man and woman exchanged a smile. “We were married on the fifteenth as well.”
The boy surnamed Li looked at his cousin. “When we grow up, let’s marry on the fifteenth too.”
The old man brought out roasted sweet potatoes. “Here, everyone. Eat something to fill your stomachs.”
Shen Qingyu accepted one of the scalding sweet potatoes, then put it down. Holding out his hand to Qiao Ying, he smiled. “Yingying, it hurts.”
Qiao Ying stared blankly without moving.
Shen Qingyu leaned closer and spoke in a soft, leisurely murmur. “Yingying, come favor me.”
Lightning split the night, followed by a thunderous crash.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
Blue-green Daoist robes snapped in the gale. Lightning caught the dark patterns embroidered in silver thread along the hem, illuminating their austere righteousness.
The young Daoist Master held one hand to his sword, its blade angled toward the floor, gleaming coldly. His other hand rested behind his back. His spine was straight as a pine, and wintry killing intent gathered between his brows. The force of his solemn presence seemed to diminish even the roaring storm.
Someone recognized the sword.
Yuanzhi exclaimed, “The Demon-Subduing Sword!”
The old man’s voice changed. “You’re… you’re Yan… Yan…”
In a flash of inspiration, Qiao Ying supplied, “Yan Chixia?”
“It’s Yan Yanchi!” Lingling said.
Qiao Ying blinked. “What?”
The Daoist Master’s voice was cold. “Monster, prepare to die.”
He drew the Demon-Subduing Sword, and its radiance swept forward. Yuanzhi, standing at the front, was cut in half and collapsed on the spot.
Screams rose from every direction as everyone fled.
Lingling’s throat was slit in an instant. She died with her eyes open.
The elderly couple fell next. Their heads were severed, their bodies collapsing together while their heads rolled into opposite corners.
Then came the boy fleeing with his cousin by the hand.
The flying sword pierced his chest and pinned him to a wooden pillar.
The Daoist Master pulled it free. The boy’s corpse fell, and the icy point turned toward the girl’s brow.
“Please… don’t kill me…” The girl heard the sound of her own skull shattering, then crumpled to the ground and heard nothing more.
The Daoist Master killed with astonishing speed. Everything happened within a single instant.
Rampaging sword energy split open the wall. Bricks and stone collapsed, letting in the cold wind.
Beyond the broken wall, Qiao Ying saw a lush green vegetable patch. One corner bore traces of having been dug up.
Realization struck. She looked at the sweet potatoes scattered across the floor.
The Demon-Subduing Sword turned toward them, driving a powerful, roaring wind before it. Yet the instant it arrived, two long, pale fingers caught its point with perfect steadiness.
The young man in blue wore a smile beneath his white hair. Lightning cast a porcelain chill over his profile beneath the white silk blindfold. His fingers curved idly around the frigid blade. Though sword wind whipped his robes wildly, the hand holding it did not move an inch.
Sword energy scattered. The wind became a thousand blades.
Yet behind the young man, not even Qiao Ying’s bangs stirred.
The Daoist Master frowned. “Who exactly are you?”
“A man who is about to marry.”
Shen Qingyu smiled enigmatically and tapped the blade with one finger.
The sword shuddered, reversed direction, and flew to the other side. It sliced a lock of hair from the Daoist Master’s temple before burying itself in the wall with a resonant hum.