In the side chamber.
Qing Xu raised his hand and overturned the pearwood screen.
Staggering backward, his eyes widened with more white than black, pupils trembling uncontrollably in their sockets.
This was clearly the nightmare he had meticulously arranged for Qin Wuyi—so why…
Why did Qin Wuyi bear a face identical to Lingxue’s?!
His back collided with the wooden wall of the chamber. Gasping, he muttered to himself in a daze, "Impossible… Lingxue can’t be here. Impossible. Fake. This is fake. All of it is fake. Fake, fake, fakefakefake—"
Behind the bronze lamp, Luo Luo, the tiny mosquito, stiffened in fright, pressing herself against Li Zhaoye.
She never expected to suddenly see the face of Senior Martial Sister Lingxue here.
"Bzzz!"
What’s going on?! What in the world is happening?!
Qing Xu’s mind worked faster than Luo Luo’s.
His fingers clawed at the wooden wall behind him, steadying himself as his thoughts gradually settled.
Closing his eyes, he quickly pieced it together.
He exhaled softly, drenched in cold sweat, his body weak. "...Void Nightmare."
Qing Xu and Chen Xuanyi had seized their opportunity only after Qin Wuyi fought the ancient demon Void Nightmare to near mutual destruction.
Now, though the demon’s body was dead, its remnant soul still clung to Qin Wuyi. When Qing Xu tampered with Qin Wuyi’s spirit, the Void Nightmare naturally wouldn’t sit idle.
This scene was its counterattack.
It had deliberately replaced Qin Wuyi’s face with Lingxue’s, aiming to unsettle Qing Xu and exploit his weakness.
Realizing this, Qing Xu let out a shuddering breath. "Hah…"
So that was it.
He chuckled lowly, the veins throbbing at his temples gradually easing.
Raising a hand, he tugged at his collar and pressed his fingers to his throat—his heart had nearly leapt up his gullet just moments ago.
Qing Xu laughed. "Are all you demons this naive? Did you think using Lingxue’s face would shake me?"
Leaning back against the wall, his laughter grew louder.
Under the lamplight.
Luo Luo fluttered her wings, batting at Li Zhaoye. "Bzz bzz bzz?"
What’s happening? What’s happening?!
Li Zhaoye couldn’t help but grin. "Wait, why are you talking like a mosquito?"
Luo Luo: "Bzz? Me?"
She startled herself. "I can actually speak human words?!"
Li Zhaoye burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. He gathered her close, extending a slender mosquito leg to ruffle her head, tousling her fluff into a tangled mess.
Smugly, he explained, "I’m controlling the scene. Of course you can talk."
"Oh?" Luo Luo’s eyes lit up. She pointed viciously at Qing Xu. "Then can we teach him a lesson?"
"Afraid not." Li Zhaoye swayed his long legs leisurely, sighing in regret. "Deviating from his memories would wake him."
Luo Luo deflated. "Oh."
So the three mosquitoes could only be spectators in this memory.
"Seeing the truth might finally resolve Master’s inner turmoil." Xu Junzhu’s gaze flickered faintly. "After all these years…"
The weight of that dark accusation had burdened Lingxue for far too long.
Even if unspoken, how deeply must the injustice have wounded her?
The side chamber gradually quieted.
Qing Xu stepped toward the bed, looking down at the girl lying on the pillows.
Her hair fanned out like seaweed, making her pallor even more pronounced.
Her lips, nearly colorless, clenched around a wooden gag.
The attendants by the bed bowed their heads respectfully. "Flower Queen."
Luo Luo: "..."
The identity Li Ermiao had assigned himself was truly beyond words.
"Leave us," Qing Xu ordered softly.
"Yes!" The attendants scurried out, shutting the door behind them.
Qing Xu sat at the bedside, rolling up his sleeves before gently removing the gag from the girl’s mouth.
Dazed with pain, she instinctively bit down hard—this time on her own lip.
Qing Xu had anticipated this. He slipped two fingers between her teeth, letting her sink her teeth into him instead.
A faint "tch" sounded as the metallic tang of blood filled the chamber.
"It’s alright," he soothed in a whisper. "It’s alright, don’t be afraid. It’s over now."
Realizing she’d bitten someone, she shuddered and forced her jaws open despite the agony.
"It’s fine, really."
While murmuring reassurances, he pressed his other hand to her forehead, warming her with his palm.
He knew exactly what she was feeling—the searing pain in her eye sockets, the bone-deep chill in her brow, a coldness that would haunt her soul for life.
He knew what she needed and how to provide it.
His comfort worked. Within moments, the exhausted girl fell into a deep sleep.
Even unconscious, she instinctively sought the warmth of his hand. The slightest shift made her brows knit in unease.
"It’s alright," he murmured, sighing with deliberate tenderness—though his lips curled in a cold smirk.
In the days that followed, Qing Xu always appeared by her bedside at just the right moment.
He spoke to the injured girl in gentle tones, arranged light and nourishing meals for her, guided her first steps from the bed, and helped her adapt to life without sight.
"You can call me Brother Miao."
The girl pressed her lips together, refusing. She knew he was complicit—his subordinates had carried out the atrocities. His kindness was just the carrot after the stick.
Qing Xu noted her resistance but remained unruffled.
His patience was boundless.
Whenever she pushed him away in disgust, he would linger just a moment longer, releasing a sigh so faint it seemed both wounded and uncertain—perfectly calibrated to be noticeable yet never contrived.
After several repetitions, though she still rejected him, the edge of her revulsion dulled.
Groping her way back to bed, she stumbled over a low stool.
He caught her just before she fell, though his own legs slammed painfully into the overturned stool.
A grunt of pain caught in his throat.
Once he "realized" her aversion, he spoke less and touched her only when necessary, content to simply keep her company in silence.
Gradually, she grew accustomed to blindness—and to his presence.
When the madam occasionally entered the chamber, he would intercept her immediately, coaxing her away with soft words before returning much later.
With him there, the girl never had to face anyone.
Though she knew they were allies, all he ever gave her was safety and gentleness.
A drowning person will clutch at any straw within reach.
Especially a warm one.
She still refused to call him "Brother Miao."
She occasionally furrowed her brows, as if even she didn’t know what she was holding onto.
One day, after he and the madam left, they did not return for a long time.
The young girl sat on the bed, hesitating for what felt like an eternity, before finally rising slowly and groping her way to the door.
Biting her lip in silence, she yanked the wooden door open with force.
“Creak—clatter—”
The decadent sounds of the outside world rushed in.
“Lady Wuyi?” Someone stopped her. “Ah, the courtesan has given strict orders—you mustn’t wander around!”
The girl froze. “Wuyi… me?”
“Go back inside,” the person urged, leaning closer until his hot breath brushed her ear. “If some rogue tears off that blindfold of yours… tsk… your eyeballs will pop right out! They’re reserved for the patrons who’ve paid a fortune…”
She stumbled back instinctively.
The courtesan had warned her repeatedly never to touch the blindfold. He was a gentle man and had never told her what would happen if she did.
Only now did she realize the true cruelty of her fate.
Her breath uneven, she retreated hastily into the room, hands trembling as she shut the door.
“Thud.”
When Qing Xu returned, he saw her in a state of distress for the first time.
Her body shook as she screamed hoarsely at him, “Just kill me! Kill me already!”
“Shh, shh.” He soothed her gently. “Lower your voice. Calm down. Listen to me first.”
He reached for her arm, trying to guide her back to the bed.
She shoved him away violently.
“Crash—clang! Shatter!”
He stumbled into a corner, knocking over a shelf and sending a bronze basin clattering to the floor.
“I won’t accept this fate!” She staggered back, raising a trembling hand toward the blindfold.
“Snap!”
Her fingers were caught in his grip.
For the first time, he ignored her resistance, holding her tightly against him.
“Shh, shh.” Desperation laced his voice. “Don’t act rashly. Listen to me, please.”
Even in his panic, he remained gentle, his hand soothingly stroking her back.
“I’ve almost saved enough,” he whispered. “You’ll be safe. I’ll buy your freedom, take you away from here, find a physician to heal your eyes… Don’t be afraid, alright?”
She stiffened. “Why?”
He rested his chin atop her head, murmuring softly, “I don’t know why. I just want to be good to you. Must there be a reason?”
A bitter chuckle escaped him. “Does kindness need justification?”
She pressed her lips together, silent.
She wouldn’t trust him so easily.
“There’s no rush,” he said, his voice warm as a spring breeze. “You have all the time in the world to know me. One day, you’ll call me ‘Brother Miao’ willingly.”
His tone was light, sincere, unbearably tender.
His palm settled against her forehead, radiating warmth.
The girl said nothing, but the tension in her body eased slightly.
She wouldn’t trust him.
Not yet.
But “that day” arrived far too soon.
As had happened many times before, the madam came to her room—only to be placated and sent away by his gentle words.
Faintly, she heard hushed arguing in the hallway.
Her expression tightened, brows knitting as unease coiled in her chest.
She fumbled her way to the door.
By the time she pressed her ear to it, the voices had faded, leaving only silence.
She hesitated, fingers curling around the frame—
Then two people passed by, whispering.
“The courtesan’s gone to take another client for that girl of his.”
“Today’s customer is ruthless—demanded a virgin. If he’s sent instead, isn’t that false goods?”
“Pfft, with the courtesan’s skills (omitted graphic description), why worry for him?”
“You don’t understand how vicious that man is. Death would be a mercy if he got his hands on you!”
“Surely not. The madam treasures the courtesan—she wouldn’t let him die easily.”
“What if the price is right? They’re paying for Lady Wuyi’s eyes—her life!”
The girl trembled violently, her grip on the doorframe shaking like a leaf.
Only now did she realize how he had “handled” things every time the madam came.
No wonder he always sat far from her afterward, silent in the shadows.
Her lips quivered. With a sudden yank, she tore the door open and stumbled out, screaming after the retreating figures, “Where—where is he?!”
In the room, three mosquitoes exchanged glances before buzzing after her down the corridor.
By the time she found the room, it was over.
The stench of blood hit her before she even stepped inside.
Shaking, she groped along the doorframe and entered.
“Squelch.”
Her foot landed in a large, bloody footprint.
She swallowed hard, stretching her hands forward as she followed the wet, reeking trail.
Her knee bumped against a daybed.
A shuddering breath escaped her as she reached out—
A cold hand seized her wrist.
His voice was ragged, broken. “Don’t… I’m… fine… Go… back… cough—cough—ugh!”
He doubled over, retching violently between gasps.
The metallic tang of blood filled the air. Warm droplets splashed onto her forehead—just like the warmth he’d once given her.
She shook uncontrollably, trying to reach for him, but his grip tightened.
“Don’t touch… dirty…”
After fumbling weakly, he pressed a small pouch into her palm.
“This… is Brother Miao’s… earnings… Hide it…”
A sob tore from her throat.
“No! Keep it yourself! Let me help you up!”
She could already feel his body growing colder.
“Cough… cough… ghh… ghh…”
The death rattle began.
Blind as she was, her hearing was sharp—each wheezing breath was fainter than the last.
“Don’t die, you… don’t die,” she finally cried his name, “Brother Miao, don’t leave me!”
Tears of blood seeped through the blindfold.
His hand slipped from hers, lifeless.
Her weeping stopped abruptly. Holding her breath, she reached for him again, fingers brushing icy skin.
A flinch—her fingertips met stiffened flesh, crusted blood.
Further in, the wounds grew more gruesome.
“Brother Miao. Brother Miao.”
She called his name with a strained voice.
She didn’t trust him that much yet, but he was already lying here, bearing everything for her.
"Brother Miao, wake up..."
The sight sent chills down Luo Luo’s spine.
She couldn’t even imagine—if Li Ermiao had used such methods against her, would she have foolishly believed he was a good man?
Just like Qin Wuyi at this moment—trembling, agonized, drowning in guilt and regret.
Suddenly, the girl’s fingers brushed against something.
Her touch recoiled as if burned.
The texture was all too familiar, all too loathsome—a white blindfold.
Her body stiffened like clay.
This was the most crucial prop in the entire scheme.
Only after his death did she realize he truly wasn’t like the others.
He wasn’t an accomplice. He was a victim too. Just like her... he had lost his eyes.
All those times she pushed him away, he had stumbled clumsily against tables and chairs.
She remembered his stifled groans, his sweat-drenched clothes, his kindness, gentleness, and care.
Her lips parted as she gasped in ragged, soundless sobs—too shattered even to cry.
Her defenses crumbled entirely. Her spirit had already broken.
Dying now might even be a release.
Blind, she couldn’t see the faint smirk on "dead" Qing Xu’s lips, nor the mockery in his eyes.
"Brother... Brother Miao..."
Tears of blood seeped through the blindfold, dripping onto him.
His gaze flickered over her absently before freezing on her face. His lips twitched involuntarily.
This was, after all, Lingxue’s face.
Qing Xu had spent years by Lingxue’s side, yet this was the first time he had seen her cry.
So fragile.
He did have feelings for her—she was so righteous, so steadfast, the very embodiment of the security he craved.
They had already formed a spiritual bond. As long as he kept his true nature hidden, they could grow old together.
They knew each other so well, like the left hand knows the right.
It had never occurred to him that Lingxue could cry. Someone like her, even if betrayed, would never shed a tear. She would only coldly rebuke him—he was certain of it.
Yet now, her face wept before him.
Drop after drop of blood-tears fell onto him, scalding him with each touch.
An indescribable thrill made his eyes widen, fixed unblinkingly on that face.
He couldn’t imagine—what if it were really Lingxue crying like this before him?
Calling him, Brother Miao.
The girl clenched the blindfold in her fist.
Leaning closer, she traced his face with one hand.
Qin Wuyi, stripped of all memories, unleashed every ounce of her being in this moment.
Suddenly, she bent down and pressed a kiss to the cold corner of his lips.
Qing Xu’s eyes flew open, veins bursting crimson across his whites.
"..."
Crack.
Luo Luo heard a faint sound.
She turned and saw a thin red line split open on Xu Junzhu’s left foreleg.
The lingering obsession dissolved like a drop of blood in water, rippling away into the river of fate.
"Hah."
Xu Junzhu let out a scornful laugh.
So that was it.
"He fell for her," he sneered. "So easily swayed by a face that resembled Shizun’s. Too cowardly to admit his own weakness, his indecision—so he’d rather delude himself, forcing a cuckold’s shame upon his own head."
Luo Luo nodded. "Shizun Lingxue will never love him again."
Qing Xu didn’t spare Qin Wuyi.
After a brief moment of shock, he coldly raised his hand and resumed his plan.
The brothel madam’s figure materialized behind Qin Wuyi.
Qin Wuyi’s soul was already severely damaged; this ordeal would shatter her completely.
As she slumped over the "corpse," the madam’s voice whispered in her ear:
"He took your place with the clients. You were the one who should’ve died."
All these days, whenever the madam appeared, Li Ermiao had stepped in for her.
Now she knew what that "stepping in" had entailed. Guilt and anguish crashed over her anew, a mountain’s weight upon her shoulders.
The girl murmured, "I... should have died."
The madam smiled, satisfied. "If given another chance, would you die in his place?"
Dazed, the girl turned her blood-streaked face. "Yes."
The madam’s voice dripped with temptation. "Would you give him everything—your very soul—to ensure his happiness?"
The girl whispered, "Is that... really possible?"
"Just nod," the madam coaxed.
A fragile smile touched the girl’s lips.
Ever so slightly, she nodded.
And so, Qing Xu devoured her soul.
He absorbed Qin Wuyi’s spiritual energy, consumed the dying Void Nightmare, and secured her pure, masterless cultivation for Chen Xuanyi.
The only thing he lost was the soulmark that had connected him to Lingxue.
Nothing more.
Crash!
The sound of shattering glass pierced the air.
Four figures flickered into view, materializing amidst a flurry of peach blossoms.
Qing Xu’s pupils trembled. He staggered slightly, his composure fraying at the edges.
"Ha..." Shoulders slumping, he took a step back and laughed. "Ha! Well done. Truly, the new generation surpasses the old. You’ve stripped me bare."
Luo Luo stared at this stranger who had once been her master, her heart frozen.
"Shifu," she asked quietly, "when you schemed against Daoist Qin Wuyi, you ensnared yourself as well. Do you regret it?"
Qing Xu’s gaze settled on her.
He had to admit—he’d always harbored some fondness for this naive little disciple.
Too simple, too guileless for him to employ his usual ruthlessness against her.
He sighed. "Regret? If I regretted even for a moment, I could’ve easily won that stone-hearted Daoist back—oh, wait. It seems her heart never wavered at all."
Xu Junzhu’s fury spiked; his fingers nearly snapped from the force of his grip.
Luo Luo pressed on. "Do you truly believe you controlled those feelings?"
Qing Xu scoffed. "Obviously."
"But Shifu," Luo Luo said, "you couldn’t even control a face."
Qing Xu waved a dismissive hand. "Qin Wuyi borrowing Lingxue’s face? That was the Void Nightmare’s doing."
Luo Luo shook her head. "No. Not the Nightmare. You."
She stepped forward.
"Shifu, I saw everything in Chen Xuanyi’s memories."
Her gaze pierced into him.
"When you stood in the South Wind Pavilion, fresh from ‘servicing’ that foul, sweaty man—I saw the stains. On your face. On your body."
Qing Xu’s smile froze, ice cracking across his facade.
"You, deep down, believe you’re unworthy." Luo Luo’s eyes were filled with sorrow. "You don’t even realize how desperately you want to ‘taint’ Senior Lingxue too."
"Shut. Up."
Luo Luo ignored him: "You didn’t betray anyone—you just gave yourself a false hope. Your heart longs for Senior Lingxue to accept you, just like Qin Wuyi in your nightmares accepted the ‘filthy’ version of you."
"I. Said. Shut. Up."
"You yearn for it, but you’re too afraid to try or believe. Master, you’re nothing but a coward. You’d rather ruin everything than dare to tell her about your wretched past. You underestimate her—the only one who ever despised you was yourself."
She gazed at him with pity. "What a waste."
