She was most terrified of ghosts and such things. If not for Little Qing still being there, the dark insects still present, and knowing he was still around, she would have long been scared out of her wits.
No one responded to her.
Chu'he pressed her lips together, then stomped angrily back to the water's edge. "Fine! If you're going to hide from me, then I'll jump in! I won’t live anymore—I’ll seek death!"
Still, there was no movement around her.
Little Qing, the small green snake, nuzzled against her cheek.
—She must be a fool. The love-guardian Gu was still active—as long as the sub-Gu lived, she wouldn’t die!
Chu'he realized this too, her eyes darting mischievously before she stomped and shouted again.
"Fine, I won’t die, but who knows where the current might take me? What if I hit my head and lose my memory, forgetting everything? It’s not impossible I’d fall for some other young, handsome lord, is it?"
Little Qing perked up—was this really happening?
"I’ll jump right now! I’ll go lose my memory right now! I’ll go find a younger, prettier lord!"
The moment Chu'he took a step into the water, something slimy and sticky shot out and coiled around her ankle. With a loud splash, she fell face-first onto the shore.
Though she couldn’t feel pain, that didn’t mean she couldn’t bleed.
Chu'he lifted her head, two streaks of blood dripping comically from her nose. She turned to look—
The black, tentacle-like substance was rapidly retreating into the bushes.
Chu'he scrambled up and, taking advantage of her painless state, lunged forward with all her might, grabbing hold of the slippery mass. The force yanked her straight into the thicket.
By the time the other party realized, it was too late—she was already dragged in, crashing into a twisted, writhing mass, half her body sinking into it.
Chu'he looked up and froze.
It was a grotesque, bloody mass, as if forcibly compressed into a single form. But upon closer inspection, it was unmistakably the mangled remains of countless Gu insects—limbs tangled in viscous flesh, barbed appendages scraping uselessly against slick inner walls, broken wings still twitching spasmodically, half a centipede entwined with a severed scorpion’s tail.
They seemed to struggle, desperate to break free and reclaim their individual forms, yet remained hopelessly entangled, still clinging to their final instinct to tear each other apart.
Chu'he remembered the tide of corpses in the Medicine Man’s Cave—back then, Ninth had been buried among them. When she finally pulled him out, only half of his mutilated body remained.
"Ninth!"
"Ninth!"
"Chi Yan!"
Chu'he frantically clawed through the mass, not even realizing she was already half-submerged in it. Her hands dug through the gory mess until, at last, she touched something hard.
The monstrous mass of Gu corpses parted slightly, revealing her own hands—and what they cradled.
A heart-shaped outline, yet made entirely of translucent white jade, untouched by blood, radiating an almost sacred purity.
Thump. Thump.
It pulsed rhythmically beneath her fingers.
The world speaks of the Jade Heart—seven apertures, all pure and unblemished.
Yet only after enduring countless trials can true resilience be born within its clarity.
For centuries, the Witchcraft and Gu Sorcery Sect had refined only this single Jade Heart. If consumed as a medicinal catalyst, it could grant immortality to the living—or even resurrect the dead.
And yet, here she was, holding a treasure coveted by all, with no thought of greedily seizing it.
Chu'he stared blankly. "Ninth?"
The surface of the mass convulsed violently as countless eyes emerged—crimson, bloodthirsty, brimming with malice.
Chu'he’s gaze darted around, counting. Thirteen pairs. No more, no less.
They fixed on the girl embedded in their flesh, yet their gazes were oddly hazy.
A chorus of voices answered, "I am not Ninth."
Chu'he tried again. "Seventh?"
"I am not Seventh."
"Then… Chi Yan?"
"I am not Chi Yan."
Chu'he was out of ideas. "My dearest, sweetest treasure?"
"I am not… not your dearest treasure."
One by one, the eyes retreated into the bloody mass. No matter what she called them, they refused to acknowledge it.
This hideous form—no longer with its beautiful silver hair, no longer with its fair skin, no longer even with a body she could embrace—how could they possibly admit to being him?
Chu'he looked down at the Jade Heart in her hands and hastily stuffed it back inside. Then, she began struggling to free herself from its grasp.
—She must be terrified.
The mass writhed, letting her go without resistance, not daring to reveal a single eye to witness her fleeing in fear.
"Ahem!"
Chu'he stood firmly on the ground, clearing her throat.
One pair of eyes peeked out cautiously.
"Such lovely weather today—look at the moon!"
She pointed at the sky, water still dripping from her clothes.
A second pair of eyes emerged, then a third.
"Not just the moon—there’s wind and clouds too!"
Chu'he spun in a circle, her soaked skirt flinging droplets everywhere, some splattering onto the coiled monstrosity.
More crimson eyes surfaced.
"Ah! And tall trees! Lush green grass!"
With exaggerated enthusiasm, she swept her wet, tangled hair from her grimy face and flashed a radiant smile.
Now, all the eyes couldn’t resist staring at her.
"Today must be my luckiest day—because I get to see such beautiful scenery with the person I love most!"
She grinned, blood still trickling from her nose onto her robes. The girl who usually carried herself like a princess now looked more disheveled than a beggar.
Those crimson eyes burned like ghostly flames ignited by her mad words, swirling with indescribable agitation.
Some fixated on her bleeding nose, others followed the droplets falling from her hair, and a few pressed so close they nearly burst through the bloody membrane—as if ready to lunge and devour her whole.
Yet, strangely, they remained frozen, as if pinned by an unseen force.
Slowly, the restless, flesh-like mass stilled. It twisted and convulsed before gradually reshaping—into the silhouette of a person.
"Chu'he’s most beloved… is still me?"
A naked boy stood there, his silver hair cascading like scattered moonlight over his slender frame. His skin was so pale it seemed translucent, like a newborn untouched by the world, fragile and pure.
Those blood-red eyes, usually so suited for mockery, now shimmered with confusion, veiled in mist.
Chu'he threw her arms open and charged at him. He staggered back, bewildered, as her momentum nearly knocked him over. His hair fluttered before settling over her shoulders, where Little Qing poked its head out.
"Of course, the one I love most has always been you!"
The boy’s heart trembled violently. Something deep within his dazed eyes stirred, as if on the verge of breaking free. "Chu'he… you’re not afraid of me?"
"What's there to be afraid of?" Chu'he lifted her gaze to meet his, brimming with a reckless confidence that bordered on foolishness. "Pfft, it's just a dozen or so—I can handle way more in the future!"
Her words were strange, and the boy couldn’t quite grasp their meaning, yet they sent a surge of warmth through his chest.
He raised a hand to cover his eyes, his breath ragged and uneven.
Chu'he tilted her head up at him. "Ninth, are you crying because I moved you?"
"Only children cry. I don’t." His voice trembled slightly. "It’s just your nosebleed smeared on me—it’s so gross I can’t even look."
Chu'he’s expression shifted, and she pressed her face harder against his chest, rubbing it in deliberately.
"Stupid Ninth! I’ll make you filthy!!!"
