Itch
Will taking a moment to rest really make it better?
Psychologically, she had calmed down a bit, but the physiological afterglow was still lingering.
The aftereffects of the blood pact were profound and enduring. This time, the consolidation was completed in a truly messy manner. Yingshi once again realized her lack of willpower—if she were the legendary monk Tang Seng, she absolutely would never have made it out of the Women's Kingdom alive...
"Shuangjian, is it almost dawn again?" she said limply, using every ounce of her willpower to lift her head from Shuangjian's chest and struggling to put some distance between them.
They couldn't keep going on like this. All this hugging and pulling was just too ambiguous!
If time were pushed back two months, she might have just forcefully pushed Shuangjian down, but right now... she still had her morals! She still had her principles!
She had to stand firm on her last post of morality! She would absolutely not let her integrity slip away...
"There's... still some time," Shuangjian replied.
Although his self-control was clearly several times stronger than Yingshi's, at this moment he wasn't doing much better than her.
But no matter how reluctant he was, since Yingshi had expressed her desire to break free from his embrace, he had no choice but to let go.
Yingshi wiped the lingering bright red from her lips and patted her burning cheeks with the back of her hand, trying her best to ask in a serious, businesslike tone, "Then tonight, are there any other matters that need to be satisfied?"
If possible, it would be best not to involve physical contact—she had already tried her hardest to restrain herself, so Shuangjian must absolutely not tempt her anymore! Damn it!
"..." Shuangjian nodded. He stared somewhat absently at a point in the void, and after a long while, he lowered his eyes and said, "I still want... to understand you more."
"Understand me?" Yingshi was stunned for a moment. She looked up and asked, "How so?"
"I want to hear more about your past life..."
But would this cause her homesickness to overflow and make her sad?
Shuangjian cautiously confirmed, "Is that okay?"
"Oh, so that's it. Of course!" Yingshi pinched her fingers in embarrassment, overcoming her shyness as she added, "But, can we make an exchange? I want to understand you more too..."
Previously, because she was worried that Shuangjian would become depressed over the misfortunes of his past life, she had avoided prying into his past whenever possible, to the point where she didn't even know his exact birthday.
But now, having spent so much time together day and night, it wasn't as if she had no curiosity about him.
She began to want to know more details, to know how Shuangjian had grown into the person he was today, and to share in the joys and sorrows of his past life...
"...Alright."
Shuangjian nodded under an indescribable emotion.
He was certain that he had indeed been hit with the debuff of his evil spirit identity—he was starting to push his luck.
Starting to test the waters on some dangerous edge.
Even for a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind: what if, while talking about the past, he intentionally revealed some flaws?
Would Yingshi notice?
And following this line of thought, he couldn't stop thinking: Yingshi might be able to accept the real him... as long as he possessed everything a transmigrator should have.
—Was this an extravagant hope, or a future that could be realized?
Shuangjian licked his lips, stared into Yingshi's eyes, and replied again, "Alright."
...
In the realm of the Marrow Cleansing Spring, Yingshi had once told Shuangjian a few memorable things and talked about a few important people in her life, with the purpose of comforting him.
If that time was a highlight-reel presentation, then this time could be considered a comprehensive deep dive.
She talked about everything in detail, starting from the very beginning of her childhood memories.
The complexity of the topics and the richness of the events would probably take tens of thousands of words if written down. Fortunately, in the Infernal Temple, she wouldn't get a dry mouth from talking too much, otherwise she would have been full just from drinking water.
"...Maomao especially loved sleeping at my bedroom door. At night, I could hear its tail hitting the door panel when it circled around to lie down, and then it would let out a long sigh..." Yingshi smiled and mimicked it, then continued, "Because my dad was a chef, he would bring back a lot of meat scraps to make extra meals for Maomao. It eventually weighed even more than I did. Every weekend when I went home, I would take it out to lose weight..."
She paused for a moment, looked at Shuangjian, and suddenly said, "If that big fat dog saw you, it would definitely like you a lot and run over to pounce on you. It was super superficial about looks; whenever I walked it, it would always rub up against good-looking people..."
Listening to Yingshi's words, Shuangjian unconsciously straightened up a bit, as if he were truly undergoing the scrutiny of a certain dog.
The trivial, distinctly distant everyday fragments in Yingshi's words gradually filled his imagination of that vast world. He had envied the people of that world several times, feeling bitter that he did not and could not participate in Yingshi's "real" life.
But this time seemed different. As she spoke, the imagination took shape, and his heart seemed to become... soft and light because of it.
"What about you, Shuangjian? It's time to talk about your life."
Yingshi was tired of talking and decided to set aside her role as the speaker and switch to listening mode.
She lay down properly on the roof and pulled Shuangjian down to lie beside her.
The night in the Infernal Temple had no moon, which was a flaw; otherwise, it would definitely have been a very cozy evening... Yingshi thought absently while waiting for Shuangjian to open his mouth.
Shuangjian remained quiet for a bit too long, but she had no intention of rushing him, waiting in silence all the while.
Thus, when his low and hoarse voice finally sounded—
"I... don't know what to say."
Compared to Yingshi's life, he couldn't find any colorful parts in the fragments before her involvement; every scene was bland and tasteless.
They couldn't follow Yingshi's words... nor did they deserve to.
Yingshi's heart tightened slightly. She heard the very natural emptiness in Shuangjian's words, but she didn't show it, only quietly guiding him: "You just can't find a topic to start with for the moment. How about starting with your family?"
...Family.
Shuangjian silently repeated the word.
His family... that man and woman who were ordered to raise him in the human realm, and who were brutally murdered by that person, did they count as his family?
His adoptive parents weren't even a married couple.
When he was young, he had no reference point and thought that parents were just so silent, restrained, and distant.
They only needed to ensure he was alive; they didn't need to talk to him or touch him.
It seemed he was already five or six years old when he acquired the ability to speak. Because children of similar ages in the village would swarm to look at him, as if admiring some rare, quiet animal, and then scatter when vigilantly called back by their respective parents.
From their mouths, he clumsily learned to speak and also figured out the vague outline of what a home should perhaps be.
He understood that his home was different from others.
When he was seven, that person came.
He slaughtered everyone in the village and reached his hand out to him.
He destroyed everyone's home... yet he was his biological father.
The heavy, bloody color in his memory gradually covered his vision. Shuangjian looked up at the dark, starless and moonless night sky together with Yingshi, and said calmly, "My family members were people of few words; they were not good at expressing their emotions... I fell ill when I was seven. Afterward, I couldn't remember many things, and my impression of my family also became blurred."
"Ah..." Yingshi's heart felt heavy. She turned her head and asked somewhat cautiously, "What kind of illness was it exactly? Is it the same one that ultimately led to you... coming here?"
"...Yes," Shuangjian replied. "I don't know the name of the disease. It would just paralyze my body, rendering me unable to control myself. Whenever I tried to struggle, I would feel agonizing pain."
He didn't realize that he was involuntarily controlled right from the start.
At the beginning of the first time loop, he was unaware that his hands and feet were bound by strings.
The rules were something even more invisible than the weeping threads of the heavenly silkworm.
He was just constantly in pain.
The first time he realized he seemed to have no autonomy over his own body was during a moment when he was being beaten.
He thought he wanted to fight back, even if the price was death.
But no matter how strong that thought was, he still couldn't raise his head, reach out his hands, or fend off the fists raining down on him.
Later, such moments became more frequent and lasted longer. He wrestled in agony, and at that time, he didn't even know that this signified the beginning of the plot.
The plot had begun, so the threads controlling him also became more concrete and powerful.
They wanted to manipulate his every word, every look, and every smile.
They brought him opportunities unimaginable to ordinary people, pushed him to the top of the world, provided him the chance to exact his revenge, and bestowed upon him everything supreme—but all of it was accompanied by pain.
"It sounds like a complicated disease similar to paralysis..." Yingshi judged using her meager medical knowledge. She deeply regretted suggesting that they take a step back to understand Shuangjian. For one thing, it was incredibly heavy to take in, but more importantly, it had indeed flipped the switch on Shuangjian's gloomy memories.
She didn't want him to feel down and sad.
Yingshi couldn't help but turn around completely. She quietly caught Shuangjian's hand and squeezed his palm. "Then now... does it still hurt?"
"Not anymore," Shuangjian said.
Not anymore.
During his third time sinking into the painful cycle, he waited until Yingshi arrived.
"That's a good thing! Actually, time-traveling isn't as bad as we imagined! Doesn't it provide a chance to restart life?" Yingshi tried hard to liven up the atmosphere. "Besides, when I was a kid watching Xianxia dramas, I would drape a bedsheet over myself and pretend to be a fairy. Who would have thought that now I actually have the chance to fly around like a real fairy? The great god of transmigration helped me fulfill my dream... Your identity is even cooler. In the future, we're going to dominate the cultivation world together!"
She hid the other goal she used to talk about all the time: to work hard to reach the end of the plot and return to reality.
For Shuangjian, that didn't seem like a good ending, unless he could cure his original illness and possess a healthy body in the real world as well... Was that possible?
Didn't novels often have similar plots where, as long as the transmigrator completed certain goals, they could come back to life in reality? It would be great if they had such an opportunity too...
She really wanted to meet Shuangjian in reality.
They would eat lots of delicious food together, watch movies together, go to the amusement park, and listen to concerts.
They might walk a dog together, Shuangjian would wait for her to finish class, he would come to the city and have his own brand new life with infinite possibilities...
Yingshi blankly imagined those scenes. Immersed in them, she couldn't help but pour out her beautiful hopes to Shuangjian, asking, "Could there be a day like that?"
"..."
Silence.
Yingshi shook Shuangjian's hand somewhat sullenly, blinking her eyes as she said, "You are supposed to say yes."
"...Yes."
Now she felt better and curved her eyes into a smile again. "Looking at it this way, the future is still very much worth looking forward to... So, don't immerse yourself in heavy memories anymore. Give me a smile!"
While speaking, Yingshi launched a sneak attack, giggling as she used her fingers to tickle Shuangjian's palm.
Shuangjian received her haphazard attacks without moving an inch, cooperatively curling up the corners of his lips.
Yingshi, however, was not satisfied with his reaction. "You're not ticklish at all!"
"...It does tickle," Shuangjian smiled faintly.
Only, not in his hand.
But in his heart.
...
Time in the Wujian Temple flowed to the fourth day.
The schedule was half over, yet the progress...
The group of disciples standing beneath the giant Buddha looked up, then looked at each other, speechless.
The good news was that when they woke up this morning, there were still twenty-six stonemasons and nine painters. Compared to yesterday, there were no new eliminations.
But the bad news was too bizarre: the giant Buddha had gone from being incomplete to whole.
This was naturally a good thing for the craftsmen whose task was to build the Buddha statue. The key issue was that its appearance had undergone a drastic change.
It had turned into a complete woman with a blurred face.
The Buddha had acquired the curves of a human body.
Was there anything more terrifying than this?
