Chapter 82
Chapter 82
Holding Shen Qingyu’s hand, Qiao Ying walked ahead and looked curiously around.
He followed obediently. Whenever she was not watching, he brushed away branches before they could touch her. When she turned, he merely curved his lips in a tranquil smile.
Qiao Ying slowed until she walked nearer him. “Shen Qingyu.”
“Mm?”
“Although you’re foolish, perhaps you truly can become a good husband.”
He hooked a loose strand at her temple. “Yingying, I’m not foolish.”
“Fine, fine. You aren’t.”
Privately, she thought: if a man who did not even understand consummation was not foolish, who was?
Perhaps Qiao Ying was somewhat abnormal too. She did not ask where the vanished figures had gone, just as she had never asked what exactly was wrong with the estate.
She simply accepted being confined here, then just as quickly accepted that she had married him and become his wife.
“I’m so hungry. I want pork wontons, sweet-and-sour ribs, cherry pastries, candied longans…”
Her cravings were truly chaotic, ranging from hot dishes to cold sweets.
Shen Qingyu listened silently without finding her chatter irritating. Instead, his ears itched, and so did his heart.
Qiao Ying suddenly stepped on something and stopped rambling.
Looking down, she saw a sword.
She picked it up. It seemed familiar. “Shen Qingyu, I think I’ve seen this sword.”
He pretended to ponder with her. “Yes. Where could that have been?”
“Doesn’t it look familiar to you?”
Shen Qingyu kindly reminded her, “Yingying, I cannot see.”
Qiao Ying fell briefly silent. After studying the sword for a long time, realization struck. “It belongs to Yan Chixia… No, Yan Yanchi!”
When Yan Yanchi appeared at Guang’en Temple, he had slaughtered first and asked questions later. He had even pointed this sword at Qiao Ying. She remembered that the Demon-Subduing Sword was famous enough to terrify countless Yaoguai.
“Did something happen to Yan Yanchi?”
Shen Qingyu’s smile was evasive. “Yes. Did something happen to him?”
His attitude made Qiao Ying want to punch him. Then she remembered that the blow might only please him and restrained herself.
“Yan Yanchi looked powerful. How could he meet with disaster? Did he encounter a troublesome Great Yaoguai?” As the suspicion arose, she looked at Shen Qingyu.
The Youth in Blue had snow-white hair, unseeing eyes, and a kind, pleasant smile. Anyone might believe he was a frail scholar. How could he resemble a Great Yaoguai?
The Demon-Subduing Sword trembled faintly, as though something inside wished to escape.
Qiao Ying gripped the hilt and tried to draw it, but failed. She looked to Shen Qingyu for help. He only smiled, apparently unwilling to intervene.
Gritting her teeth, she planted the sword upright, braced it with one foot, and pulled with all her strength. The blade did not budge.
After struggling for a long time, Qiao Ying was nearly exhausted.
She pressed her lips together. “Shen Qingyu, help me.”
He drawled, “Didn’t you say one should not ask others for help with things one cannot accomplish alone?”
“Are you someone else?” Qiao Ying demanded. “You’re my husband!”
Shen Qingyu had no answer.
Her reasoning was impeccable.
Qiao Ying hooked his little finger and swung it. “Shen Qingyu, good Qingyu, Little Fish, please help me. Won’t you?”
Whatever method she used, the tiny swing of her hand against his little finger carried the tingling weight of a thousand pounds. It raced from his fingertips to his heart and refused to subside.
Shen Qingyu instinctively tried to withdraw, but his disobedient fingers curled and clasped hers instead.
Qiao Ying looked up and blinked curiously.
The young man turned away, unwilling to let her see his reddening ears. They signified that he was “sick” again.
Among mortal couples, the man was supposed to be strong. How could he constantly fall ill?
And if he was always sick, how could he remain strong?
Qiao Ying had no idea what her young husband was pondering. Still worried about Yan Yanchi and Ding Ling, she tugged his hand and softened her voice.
“Husband, help me. Please?”
Shen Qingyu stiffened.
Qiao Ying noticed the ears beneath his white hair looking ready to burn. Understanding dawned. She cleared her throat, hugged his arm, and made her voice unbearably sweet.
“Husband.”
“Husband.”
“Help me.”
“Husband, please help me.”
“My dearest husband… mmph!”
The young man covered her mouth, stopping her birdlike chatter from disturbing his heart.
“Yingying, you’re very noisy.”
Unintimidated, she mumbled behind his hand, “I can annoy you for the rest of our lives.”
Shen Qingyu had intended to frighten her and demonstrate his strength. But at those words, his throat moved. The thought of her annoying him for a lifetime suddenly seemed rather pleasant.
He lowered his hand, took hers, and pulled her closer. Then he casually kicked the upright sword.
The blade leaped from its sheath in a flash of cold light. A girl appeared with it and fell to the ground.
Qiao Ying stared. “Ding Lingling!”
She tried to help Ding Ling up, but her hands passed through the girl’s body.
“What happened?” Qiao Ying asked.
Shen Qingyu smiled unhurriedly. “She has not returned to her body and lacks the Yang Qi needed to maintain her form. If someone had not placed her inside the Demon-Subduing Sword, her soul would already have dispersed.”
Ding Ling remembered the wedding hall: the young man in red controlling countless corpses and gently leading a bride stripped of selfhood through the wedding rites.
He was deeply unnatural. The calmer he appeared, the more terrifying he became.
Even now, his warm smile resembled an April breeze. But after glimpsing his true nature, one could not miss the bone-deep cold within it.
Terrified of the white-haired young man, Ding Ling curled into herself.
Then Qiao Ying took Shen Qingyu’s hand, adding a touch of mortal warmth to his icy palette.
“Ding Lingling, Shen Qingyu and I are married.” Qiao Ying smiled. “We’re working toward spending our whole lives together. We even married on the fifteenth.”
Shen Qingyu slowly curved his lips and interlaced their fingers. “The fifteenth is an auspicious day.”
How could it not be, with wailing ghosts, walking corpses, Chimei Wangliang, blood, and bones for company?
Ding Ling’s face turned deathly pale. Timid as a mouse, she should have wished to bury herself. Instead, she overcame instinct and pleaded urgently, “Please help me save the Daoist Master!”