The inhabitants of the Ghost Realm turned out to be unexpectedly kind-hearted.
Zhou Shen was particularly chivalrous. Upon hearing that Xie Jingci had come from the outside world, he went out of his way to secure two guest rooms for her and Pei Du, even arranging for a physician to tend to their injuries.
Pei Du’s wounds were severe, and the treatment lasted nearly the entire night. It wasn’t until the faint light of dawn crept across the horizon that the physician finally emerged from his room.
Xie Jingci expressed her gratitude and pushed the door open, immediately catching the unmistakable surprise in his eyes.
“Miss Xie—”
Deprived of his cultivation, his body was no different from that of an ordinary mortal. After staying awake all night, faint shadows of exhaustion darkened the skin beneath his eyes, and his voice was so weak it was barely audible. “You didn’t rest?”
What a ridiculous question. With half his life hanging by a thread, even if Xie Jingci had a heart of stone, she couldn’t have slept soundly.
“I just couldn’t sleep.”
Her gaze swept across the room before settling on the teacup and medicine in Pei Du’s hands. “Taking your medicine?”
The moment the words left her lips, the system in her mind let out a chuckle:
[Congratulations! Unlocked Scene Two of the Demoness’s Playbook! Dialogue prompts have been issued—please check accordingly.]
Xie Jingci: Tch.
When righteous cultivators were injured and taking medicine, it was undoubtedly the perfect moment for her character to stir up trouble. One party weakened and helpless, their reprimands feeble at best, while the other smiled sweetly, drawing closer, weaving an atmosphere thick with ambiguity.
Though, without fail, her usual ending involved being mercilessly swatted away by the righteous hero.
Pei Du nodded at her words and swallowed the pill. Just as he was about to rise from the bed to return the teacup to the table, a slender shadow approached his side.
Xie Jingci took the cup from his hand, her tone casual. “You’re in no condition to move. Just stay in bed.”
He wasn’t quite that feeble.
Pei Du had been about to protest when she continued, “I’ve already spoken with the physician and know how to administer these medicines. From now on, I can help apply your ointments and feed you your doses. Though—”
“I remember reading a story once where the heroine didn’t always use her hands to feed the medicine.”
Her voice carried a note of curiosity, the tail end of her words lifting ever so slightly, as if she’d grown tired of speaking. She raised the teacup to her lips and took a delicate sip. “If not with hands, then how else could it be done? Young Master Pei, do you know?”
Her tone was light and airy, like a newborn oriole emerging from the valley, rippling the surface of a clear, babbling spring. Pei Du’s heart skipped a beat, his gaze drifting unconsciously to Xie Jingci’s lips.
The girl’s mouth was a captivating shade of rose, utterly mesmerizing.
Still glistening from the water she’d just sipped, her lips bore a faint, dewy sheen, silently hinting at their soft, warm texture—as if they’d melt at the slightest touch—
Pei Du startled at the thought, and by the time he regained his senses, Xie Jingci had already caught his lingering stare. The corners of her lips curled into a faint smile. “What is it? Is there something on my mouth?”
Innocent and guileless, yet somehow teasing.
His heart raced inexplicably, like a child caught red-handed in mischief. He hastily averted his eyes.
Xie Jingci couldn’t help but laugh.
That last line hadn’t been part of the system’s script—it was entirely Pei Du’s fault for being so amusing, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, flustered yet desperately trying to maintain composure.
It was practically an invitation to tease him further.
Just as she’d expected, a dry, stifled “Nothing” reached her ears, so tightly restrained it carried a hint of something almost like grievance.
“By the way.”
Playing with Young Master Pei never failed to lift her spirits. Xie Jingci cleared her throat to suppress her laughter and took a few steps forward, seating herself at the edge of the bed. “Can I take a look at your injuries?”
The Jade Dew Ointment was a rare spiritual medicine countless people coveted in vain. A single application should have healed most of his flesh wounds.
Earlier, when the physician had undressed Pei Du to treat him, even Xie Jingci, thick-skinned as she was, couldn’t bring herself to linger. Now that they were alone, she could finally inspect his wounds properly.
He visibly stiffened.
This time, Pei Du didn’t hesitate for long. Though his movements remained restrained, his slender fingers curled slightly as he tugged the collar of his robe to the right, baring his shoulder.
Yet the moment he did, Xie Jingci’s amused voice chimed in. “No, no—not there. Actually, just your arm would be enough.”
His hand, still clutching the front of his robe, froze mid-motion.
Before she’d even finished speaking, he’d already begun undressing—as if…
As if he’d been eager to strip bare for her inspection.
“Though this works too.”
Pei Du’s mind went blank, his ears burning hotter than ever before, as the girl beside him chuckled softly. “The worst of your injuries are on your torso, so it’s good to check those as well.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, utterly serious—which only made his flustered hesitation seem all the more ridiculous.
Trapped between disrobing further and stopping where he was, Pei Du’s hand remained motionless against his collar, revealing a glimpse of pale collarbone and the line of his shoulder.
An inexplicable heat prickled under his skin.
Under her quiet gaze, he lowered his lashes and pulled the fabric down further.
The Jade Dew Ointment was a rare and precious medicine, and Xie Jingci’s earlier application had already caused many of his wounds to scab over.
She leaned in slightly.
Pei Du suppressed the instinct to recoil and let her examine him.
Back in the cave, the only light had been the moon hanging in the sky, casting everything in a dim, murky haze.
Now, in the bedroom, the candle’s golden glow bathed his cool, fair skin in a soft radiance, illuminating every scar and contour of muscle with stark clarity.
Leaving him nowhere to hide.
Xie Jingci reached out, stopping just shy of his body, her fingertip hovering over one particularly jagged scar.
She didn’t speak, but Pei Du understood her unspoken question. After a brief hesitation, he finally rasped out, “…You can touch.”
A quiet, nearly inaudible laugh echoed through the room.
Xie Jingci pressed her lips together to stifle it, then let her fingertip press gently against the scar, which twisted like a centipede across his skin. “Does this hurt?”
Her fingers were pale and delicate, a stark contrast to the ugly, knotted wound. The soft pad of her fingertip sent a deep, bone-aching itch radiating through him—an itch that couldn’t be seen or grasped, surging recklessly through his veins, teasing at his nerves. His voice came out rough and strained, as if forced from his throat. “No.”
Pei Du had only bared his torso down to his chest. At her response, Xie Jingci hummed thoughtfully and tugged the fabric lower.
Superficial wounds were easy to treat, but the internal damage to his meridians would take far longer to heal.
The bruising on his abdomen hadn’t faded—if anything, it had darkened further, a mottled expanse of purples and blues. As the fabric rustled aside, the taut lines of his waist came into view.
“These injuries will probably need treatment in Yunjing after we leave the Ghost Realm.”
Her brow furrowed at the sight, knowing the pain must be unbearable. Unlike with his chest, she didn’t reach out to touch him this time. Instead, her gaze drifted lower, past his waist, to where the quilt covered his legs. “How are the wounds on your legs?”
Beneath the blanket, something shifted noticeably.
Pei Du’s response was immediate and stiff. “Fine.”
“I’m not going to eat you. Why so nervous?”
Xie Jingci laughed. “You get shy just from being looked at? I never took you for the timid type.”
Pei Du said nothing.
That wasn’t it at all.
He had always despised being touched by others and cared little for anyone’s opinions or gazes. If it were anyone else, forget asking him to remove his clothes—even attempting to apply medicine to Pei Du’s face or hands would be met with an outright refusal.
He wasn’t the type to be casual with just anyone. Xie Jingci was the only exception.
If she wished it, no matter how intimate or humiliating the act, he would willingly comply. And only under her gaze did Pei Du feel self-conscious and ashamed of his scarred body.
Unfortunately, she remained oblivious to this.
In truth, there were many things Xie Jingci didn’t know.
Like how he swung his sword day after day, striving only to stand at her side as an equal.
Like how, trapped in a precarious position within the family estate, enduring his foster mother’s cruelty and his elder brother’s mockery, the sole motivation that dragged him out of bed each morning was the chance to catch even the faintest glimpse of her at the academy.
Or how, after seeing her banter playfully with male friends, he would toss and turn all night, his chest so tight with frustration that he could only vent it through relentless sword practice.
It was pitiful, really. These were the obsessions that had filled every crevice of his life, indelible marks carved into his very being. Yet Xie Jingci, the other lead in this story, remained entirely unaware.
Pei Du had never dared hope she would find out.
From a frail child who couldn’t even hold a sword to a cultivator capable of fighting alongside her, he had grown accustomed to silently looking up at her on this long, arduous path of getting closer.
He seemed somewhat dispirited by that teasing remark, his eyes dull and downcast as if lost in thought.
Xie Jingci blinked.
Had she… said something particularly harsh?
Or had Pei Du recalled the day’s misfortunes and succumbed to sorrow?
Ah, right.
He had every reason to grieve.
According to the system’s narrative, Pei Du’s life was nothing short of a tragedy.
Adopted by the family head for his uncanny resemblance to their deceased eldest son, he was labeled a foster child but treated as little more than a stand-in. The matriarch despised him, subjecting him to years of isolation, scorn, and inventive punishments. The relentless discipline had forged his current demeanor—impeccably composed, deceptively gentle.
Now, just as he had finally honed his skills and stood on the brink of breaking free from the family’s shackles, catastrophe struck in a single day, reducing him from a shadow to a despised cripple.
Most people would have wept themselves blind under such circumstances. Yet from the moment Xie Jingci first met him, Pei Du had always been quiet, uncomplaining.
He never spoke of it, so she carelessly brushed it aside. But no one could be that strong—he wasn’t made of stone.
At a time like this… shouldn’t she genuinely try to comfort him?
This was uncharted territory. Xie Jingci had never been good at consolation.
“Hey.”
Unwilling to say the wrong thing and worsen his pain, she frantically prodded her system: “Do you have any comforting lines in your database?”
Used to her sharp-tongued sarcasm, the system perked up instantly: [Don’t worry, leave it to me! Guaranteed success!]
It was usually reliable, but within moments, the words flashing in her mind made her stiffen.
[Oh please, don’t tell me someone’s actually moping over losing their cultivation?]
—Oh please, don’t tell me someone’s actually this tone-deaf, thinking sarcasm counts as comfort.
Skip.
[So what if you’ve lost your cultivation? Wallowing like this is just pathetic.]
—So what if you’re on a moral high horse? Patronizing like this is just sad.
Skip, skip.
[…]
Skip, skip, skip.
Xie Jingci: “…”
This wasn’t “guaranteed success”—it was a disaster! Damn system, trying to ruin her!
Ugh.
She’d almost forgotten this was a villainess system. True to its name, every line was laced with venom and spice, toxic enough to make Pei Du either drop dead on the spot or cough up blood.
Xie Jingci resolved to improvise.
Raised in luxury and coddled by adoration, she’d grown up reckless and spoiled. Coupled with her long tenure as the unlovable, unappealing antagonist, she had zero experience in soothing others. After a hesitant pause, she poked Pei Du’s shoulder.
Having shed his outer robes, the sudden tension in his muscles was unmistakable.
“Pei Du.”
She rubbed her nose awkwardly. “You’re… feeling pretty awful, huh?”
Ugh. Of course he was—what a useless question.
Pei Du lifted his lashes, dark eyes fixed on her without blinking.
“Things might seem hopeless now, but that’s not entirely true. I’ll do everything I can to heal you. It’ll be alright.”
Xie Jingci winced internally, cursing herself.
Swinging a sword was infinitely easier than this soft-spoken nonsense. This was her absolute limit—anything more tender or sentimental would never leave her lips.
Pei Du murmured, “Miss Xie, you needn’t…”
“Anyway! No matter what happens, I’ll be on your side.”
She cut off his self-deprecation, her tone firming. “Don’t think about giving up, or that no one cares or wants you, or doing something reckless. Whatever you do, just remember—”
Her voice abruptly shrank.
She rubbed her nose again. “—remember my Jade Dew Ointment. It’s expensive.”
Pei Du stared, speechless.
Xie Jingci studied his expression with poorly concealed anxiety.
Had she messed up? Sure, the speech was childish, clichéd, and cringe-worthy, but—
The pale dawn light hung hushed and dim when Pei Du’s voice broke the silence. “Miss Xie.”
Now it was her turn to feign composure, meeting his gaze head-on.
His features were finely carved, his pallor sickly, his pupils a depthless dark. Yet as their eyes locked, a faint warmth surfaced—something achingly tender, long absent.
Pei Du was almost… smiling.
Xie Jingci would never know just how much those words meant to him.
Like a scene from an implausible tale, at his lowest point—abandoned and reviled by all—the girl he’d quietly loved for years appeared before him.
She didn’t scorn his shameful status or his ruined state, but earnestly told him to remember her.
Clumsy, stubborn, and so unbearably kind it made his throat ache.
That the one he’d chased after all this time was Xie Jingci… was one of the few strokes of luck in his wretched life.
Pei Du nearly lost control, his fingers twitching with the urge to pull her into his arms.
“Miss Xie, if I ever regain my cultivation…”
His heart hammered wildly as he suppressed the agony in his abdomen, his gaze locked onto her bright eyes. “I would give you everything I have. Through fire and flood, without hesitation.”
Xie Jingci studied him, thoughtful.
After a long pause, she let out a near-silent laugh and asked softly, “Anything I want?”
Pei Du feared she wouldn’t believe him and answered hoarsely, “If Miss Xie desires it, whether it be reputation, wealth, or rare spiritual treasures… I am willing to offer them all… as repayment.”
As repayment.
Xie Jingci let out a soft “Oh,” then asked, “What else?”
Seeing Pei Du’s bewildered expression, she raised an eyebrow with a playful smile. “What if I want something else? What else can you give me?”
“There’s also—”
What else could he possibly offer her?
Xie Jingci’s gaze remained fixed on him, unwavering, making Pei Du’s heart race.
If there was anything left of him to give…
It would be this battered, ailing body of his.
Would Miss Xie… even want it?
His thoughts spun into chaos, and amidst the blankness of his mind, an untimely realization struck—he wasn’t wearing an upper garment, leaving him entirely exposed to her sight.
The girl before him let out a clear, bell-like laugh, like wind chimes clinking together on a summer’s day.
“These things hardly count as proper thanks.”
Xie Jingci spoke lazily, half-teasing. “Young Master Pei, don’t forget—I am, after all, your fiancée.”
Her words were veiled, but Pei Du understood the implication.
He already belonged to her entirely—why would mere worldly possessions even matter?
