Xie Jingci was thoroughly annoyed.
Having spent so many years as a notorious troublemaker, she assumed that in Pei Du’s eyes, she—his so-called fiancée—might not qualify as a "lifelong nemesis," but at the very least, she should be considered a worthy rival.
She prided herself on being thick-skinned, rarely ever feeling awkward, but the current situation—the atmosphere, the tension—was unbearably awkward.
Traversing between different worlds, Xie Jingci had always been able to recite the most bizarre lines without batting an eye, solely because those roles weren’t truly her.
But now was different.
She was in her own body, standing face-to-face with someone she considered a sworn rival—barely even deserving of the title "fiancé."
Frustrated beyond measure, she wanted nothing more than to draw her blade and slash at him. Her fingertip, resting against his Adam’s apple, didn’t move, even pressing down slightly without her realizing.
Pei Du hastily lowered his gaze, concealing the deepening shadows in his eyes.
It was an unbearably intimate gesture. With Xie Jingci’s finger lingering there, the slightest tilt of his head would bring his chin into contact with the back of her hand.
So he had no choice but to keep his head raised, laying bare every emotion in his eyes, leaving him nowhere to hide.
"Miss Xie… didn’t come here to break off the engagement, it seems."
Pei Du knew she didn’t like him.
Xie Jingci had always been surrounded by far too many people—brilliant, unrestrained young talents, burning like fire, brimming with endless energy and laughter.
Compared to them, he was dull and wooden, polite and accommodating in every interaction, never leaving the slightest room for error. Many whispered behind his back, calling him a block of wood.
He was acutely aware of his place in the Pei family. From a nameless orphan to the young master of the Pei household, every step he’d taken over the years had been on thin ice—how could he afford even a single misstep?
Yet in the end, he had still been cast out of the Pei family.
What was stolen must eventually be returned. It wasn’t until the moment he plummeted off the cliff that Pei Du finally understood: he had merely been a stand-in, a vessel for the family’s nostalgia for their deceased eldest son. All these years, climbing step by step, inching closer to her—only to end up as nothing more than a pitiful joke, unworthy of anyone’s concern.
The Ghost Mound was wreathed in mournful winds that night, distant howls of wolves carrying the scent of blood, a warning of the dangers lurking in the dark.
With the Ghost Gate about to open, numerous sects and families had gathered here, seeking fortunes in the Ghost Realm.
Miss Xie, having only recently recovered from severe injuries, must have arrived with her family and stumbled upon the humiliating scene of him being bullied, stepping in to help on a whim.
Of all people, why did it have to be her who witnessed him at his lowest?
Swallowing the metallic taste in his throat, Pei Du forced himself to retreat, avoiding her touch and her gaze. "Miss Xie, the Ghost Mound is treacherous. It’s not safe to linger. If you have no further business here, you should leave and regroup with your companions."
He meant it.
With his cultivation shattered and Xie Jingci likely having recovered less than half of her strength, if they encountered a powerful demon or monster, Pei Du wouldn’t just be unable to protect himself—he’d drag her down with him.
"Leave you here to feed the wolves?" Xie Jingci laughed. "Besides, I came alone. There’s no one to regroup with."
There was no way the Xie family would let her come here by herself.
Pei Du looked up in surprise, meeting her eyes.
An impossible thought flickered in his mind, and he scoffed at his own wishful thinking.
But under the dim moonlight, Xie Jingci’s lips curved into a smile.
Her laughter was slow and deliberate, laced with unmistakable pride as she said, "I came here specifically for you."
Just that simple sentence was enough to make his heart race uncontrollably.
Though they were engaged, it had been arranged by their parents—and his own unspoken, one-sided longing. The few times they’d met had been on the sparring platforms of the academy.
Miss Xie had never liked him. Every encounter had been cold, devoid of smiles, and Pei Du had always adhered to propriety, never daring to overstep.
So why… would she come looking for him?
"That ‘darling’ earlier was just a joke."
Xie Jingci sheathed her blade, its gleam slicing through the night with a clear, resonant hum.
This version of her—brows slightly raised, lips curved in a smirk, sharp glint in her narrowed eyes—was far more familiar, like a blade being slowly drawn. "Everyone says you’ve fallen to demonic cultivation, that you’ve colluded with demons to wreak havoc. But I don’t believe it. The Pei family has ruined you. Don’t you want revenge?"
Finally, she’d said it.
In the original, unaltered course of events—where she remained unconscious—Pei Du would lose everything he’d ever had: his reputation, his dignity, his intact body, even his treasured sword, Zhan Yuan.
In the end, he was just a stand-in, a plaything to be discarded once they grew tired of him.
But now, things were different.
In this vast world, even the smallest variable could overturn the ending. And as a prodigy no less remarkable than Pei Du, she was hardly an "insignificant" variable.
"I can help you," she murmured, her voice almost hypnotic. "Do you want it?"
Pei Du stared at her.
This was the Xie Jingci he knew.
Always laughing with careless arrogance, yet hiding razor-sharp edges beneath, standing at heights he could never reach.
Even now, though they were close enough to touch, the distance between them felt like heaven and earth.
How laughable. After chasing after her for so many years, finally closing the gap—only for it all to crumble in an instant.
A self-deprecating smile flickered in his eyes, but before he could speak, a strange, muffled rumble echoed from the sky.
Then—a gale erupted, birds scattered in panic, dust and debris whirled violently, and the world itself seemed to shift.
Caught off guard by the sudden upheaval, Pei Du’s vision blurred from the wind and sand. He strained to make out Xie Jingci’s silhouette in the chaos, but before he could rise, a faint scent of perfume enveloped him.
Someone leaned down, pulling his head against them—forming a barrier with spiritual energy to shield him from the storm.
It could barely be called an embrace.
He froze, breath hitching, fingers instinctively clutching his blood-soaked robes.
"The Ghost Gate is opening. Looks like we’re right in the eye of the storm," Xie Jingci said, her tone matter-of-fact, even tinged with irritation at their misfortune. "…We’re probably getting dragged into the Ghost Realm."
The Ghost Realm was a domain inhabited by ghost cultivators and demonic practitioners, isolated from the mortal world with its own laws. The only passage connecting it to the cultivation world was the Ghost Gate, which opened once every fifteen years.
Xie Jingci hadn’t been wrong. When she opened her eyes again, the scenery before her was nothing like before.
Unexpectedly, the Ghost Realm wasn’t the bleak, lifeless wasteland she’d imagined. Instead, she found herself in a serene winter landscape—plum blossoms in full bloom, snow blanketing the mountains, an eerie tranquility pervading the air.
And she and Pei Du were now in a cave halfway up the mountain.
Xie Jingci was starting to wonder if Pei Du had some kind of curse attracting misfortune.
Her original plan had been to quickly escort him out of the Ghost Mound and return to Yunjing, where they could discuss his recovery with her parents. But now, it seemed they wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.
“The Ghost Gate hasn’t opened yet. We must have accidentally stumbled upon a rift formed by the unstable barrier and were dragged into this place.”
Having once studied ancient texts related to the Ghost Domain, she sighed in resignation. “The rifts appear and disappear unpredictably. If we want to return to the cultivation world, we’ll likely have to wait until the Ghost Gate officially opens.”
As the name suggested, the “Ghost Gate” was a massive portal connecting the two realms, opening for three days every fifteen years. During this time, anyone could freely enter or leave the Ghost Domain.
But now, on the eve of the gate’s opening, the overlapping spaces had yet to stabilize, inevitably creating rifts that pulled people into the Ghost Domain.
Aside from waiting for the Ghost Gate to fully open, there was no other way for them to escape.
“In less than three days, we should be able to leave this place. Until then, let’s tend to your injuries—”
At this point, even someone as bold and unrestrained as Xie Jingci paused, clearing her throat awkwardly. “But… your finger bones are all broken, right?”
Pei Du froze.
The backlash from the forbidden technique had been severe, damaging his finger bones, wrist bones, and ribs to varying degrees. His sword hand, in particular, could barely move at all.
As for Xie Jingci’s words, their implication was unmistakable.
A surge of heat rushed to his face, and Pei Du abruptly lowered his head.
“No need.”
His voice was hoarse, and he coughed a few times, struggling to mask his discomposure. “The injuries aren’t serious. I can handle them myself.”
Young Master Pei was quite the proud one. Then again, he even blushed at the mention of his legs—of course he wouldn’t want someone else applying medicine for him.
Xie Jingci wasn’t entirely convinced, unsure of the extent of his injuries. She retrieved a jar of Jade Dew Ointment from her storage pouch and handed it to him, catching a glimpse of his hand in the process.
Pei Du had once possessed a pair of beautiful hands—slender fingers, well-defined knuckles, and pale skin where faint blue veins traced the back, perfect for gripping a sword.
But the right hand he extended to her now was a mangled mess. His index finger bone was shattered, hanging limply, while claw marks from demonic beasts crisscrossed his flesh. Though he seemed to have scrubbed it vigorously, fresh blood still seeped from the wounds.
Noticing her gaze, he tucked his hand into his sleeve, revealing only the very tip of his finger.
Xie Jingci leaned closer, watching as he trembled while gripping the bottle, carefully tipping the jade-white ointment onto his fingertip.
This finger had been meticulously cleaned, free of blood or dirt. She stared, mesmerized, until Pei Du suddenly spoke.
“Miss Xie.”
She looked up—only to feel a cool, feather-light touch brush against her right cheek.
Pei Du had raised his injured hand, his fingertip grazing her face with the gentlest of caresses.
Only then did she realize that spot had been aching faintly, likely from a wound sustained during the battle.
His fingers were unbelievably soft, trembling slightly from pain. When Xie Jingci met his gaze, she found herself staring into the depths of his dark, obsidian eyes—like a still lake rippling hastily under her scrutiny.
“You’re hurt.”
After a pause, he withdrew his hand, hesitantly opening his palm to show her the meticulously cleaned finger. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “This hand isn’t dirty.”
Xie Jingci: “…”
What was wrong with this man? His fingers were in such a state, yet the first thing he thought of after receiving medicine was a barely noticeable scratch on her face.
It was hard to describe the feeling that bubbled up in her chest at those five words—like a tiny insect had pricked her heart.
So Xie Jingci decided not to dwell on it. She snatched the ointment jar from Pei Du’s hand and tilted her chin up defiantly.
There was no way he could use that finger anytime soon.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered. “I’ll apply the medicine.”
A long, heavy silence followed.
Pei Du seemed stunned by her bluntness, his head jerking up in shock.
His lashes were long, his face smudged with dust and dried blood—yet his eyes remained strikingly bright.
This time, her character setting was that of a seductive demoness. In the fast-transmigration worlds Xie Jingci had experienced before, her role was always to flirt and be rejected without fail.
Righteous cultivators would invariably attack her on sight. Only Pei Du, this time, had averted his gaze in a fluster, his voice low and strained as he uttered, “Miss Xie…”
Xie Jingci: “What?”
She paused, then preemptively countered every possible protest he might raise:
“First, the cultivation world isn’t so hung up on propriety between men and women. Besides, we’re engaged—no need for excessive reservations. Second, blood isn’t dirty, and neither are you. Even if you were filthy, a little contact won’t kill anyone. Third—”
Pei Du was utterly dumbfounded, every argument he might have made neatly blocked.
Before he could even process her rapid-fire speech, Xie Jingci continued in a deadpan tone, reciting a script: “Ah, I see. You don’t want me touching you—is it because you think I’m stained with blood from the fight? Do you find me dirty?”
Pei Du blinked, glancing first at her pristine fairy robes, then at his own blood-soaked white attire.
Wait… wasn’t that supposed to be his line?
What were demonesses best at?
Seduction, playing the victim, making unreasonable demands. Every time they encountered righteous heroes, they’d pitifully whimper, “Does the noble hero think I’m dirty and beneath him?”
Xie Jingci was a veteran at this.
Her preemptive strike had flipped the script entirely. Pei Du, never having encountered such tactics, could only stammer helplessly, “Miss Xie is… not dirty at all. I don’t mind… that sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing?”
Amused by his reaction, Xie Jingci tilted her head, her voice laced with playful mischief. “What sort of thing are you referring to, exactly?”
For some reason, her mood had lifted. She watched with delight as the usually aloof young swordsman before her flinched, his long lashes fluttering in panic.
After a long hesitation, he finally replied in a dry, bewildered whisper:
“I don’t mind… removing my clothes… and letting Miss Xie apply the medicine.”
He had actually said it out loud.
Pei Du burned with humiliation, his voice growing quieter, his eyes brimming with poorly concealed embarrassment.
The fire in his ears spread, scorching his thoughts into incoherence.
He, who was always so composed, had never shown such an expression before.
Xie Jingci studied the faint blush at the corners of his eyes with keen interest, finding it inexplicably entertaining. She bit her lip to suppress a smile, feigning a light cough.
[Impressive, impressive. I still remember your wish from back then.]
Her system chimed in mockingly: [‘Make Pei Du beg beneath me within a year, reach the Nascent Soul stage in three years’—looks like you’ve already achieved the first one! Congratulations!]
Xie Jingci’s fist clenched.
Shut up!!! Her exact words had been, “Defeat Pei Du until he submits and begs beneath me,” okay?!
The wretched system loved stirring up trouble. Just as she was about to retort righteously, it gasped dramatically.
[Wow!]
Distracted, Xie Jingci refocused—only to see Pei Du lift a hand, his movements slow and strained.
His head was bowed, hiding his expression. From her angle, she could only see the sudden reveal of his collarbones, pale as butterfly wings, and the elegant slope of his shoulders.
Whether it was from the stain of blood or some other reason, a delicate blush like peach blossoms bloomed across the cold, pale skin.
