“Haah— Haah—”
White jade struck gold and silver. Even through the long red sandalwood, the sensation of that fine, pale skin still lingered in his palm. Huo Jingzhao gasped for air heavily. He rushed into the night rain that had just ceased, running out of the Pei Manor like a madman.
Standing in the empty street, Huo Jingzhao bent over, his mask slipping off his handsome face. The man didn’t pick it up. Instead, he opened his mouth and gently licked the finger still bearing the traces of Pomegranate juice.
“…”
This sweet taste made Huo Jingzhao want to run headfirst into an icy lake, yet also made him want to tear open his clothes, roar and rage, utterly releasing the shackles tightly coiled around his heart.
In the Nine Blossoms Sect, if he made a move, no one dared not to beg for mercy.
They would look at him with misty eyes, cry and howl at his feet. Once their wounds healed, they would find other ways to beg for a sliver of his pity.
Yet throughout that entire night, Pei Lianyi never begged.
His straight, unyielding spine was not a Wolf Hair Brush, nor was it a white-jade Ferule. It was a massive mulberry tree, rooted deep into the tip of his heart. So deep, so deeply that it was unyielding.
Savoring the memory of those lips, bitten nearly to the point of bleeding, Huo Jingzhao collapsed completely onto the rain-soaked ground. He clasped his hands over his chest, holding his own fingers, and let out a fierce, loud laugh.
“…” Hearing his hoarse laughter, Sang Sha, who had been hiding in the shadows for a long time, stopped his steps forward. After thinking it over, he decided it was better to just run for now.
To the north of Rongchu City, surrounded by overlapping mountains, upon stepping up terraces of jade carvings, a sect gate, carved with a black-and-white Taiji diagram yet slashed with a large “X,” stood wide open, arrogantly accepting the worship of the common people.
Sang Sha raised his hand, carefully touched the glaring “X” on the Bagua diagram, and shook his head with a helpless sigh.
This was the Young Sect Master’s “masterpiece” from when he left the Nine Blossoms Sect years ago.
The night before his departure, the Sect Master held a banquet in the main hall to send Huo Jingzhao off. After a few cups of wine, he said with a tipsy air, “Jingzhao, ah, you and I are like the Taiji diagram on that gate. One black, one white. From now on, you are in the light, I am in the dark. But do not forget… the black and white sides, the two poles of yin and yang, are ultimately meant to merge into one.”
Sang Sha remembered that at the time, the Young Sect Master had remained silent, just buried his head and ate bowl after bowl of rice. Once he was full, under everyone’s watchful eyes, Huo Jingzhao suddenly removed the sect’s great bell and directly grabbed the heavy clock, ramming it against the main gate.
He was physically strong and immensely powerful. In an instant, the entire palace shook and swayed.
The Sect Master supported himself against the table in shock. “What is Jingzhao doing?!”
The beauties and attendants in the main hall descended into chaos. Someone shouted, “Report to Sect Master! It seems the Young Sect Master wants to tear down the gate!”
Standing in the corner, watching Huo Jingzhao ram the gate again and again, Sang Sha felt an indescribable mix of emotions in his heart.
Unfortunately, the gate of the Nine Blossoms Sect was forged from Thousand-Year Cold Iron Stone. No matter how powerful Huo Jingzhao’s Internal Cultivation was, he only managed to ram a few deep dents into it.
The Sect Master seemed to know this. He just smiled, sat back cross-legged on his prayer mat, and didn’t order anyone to stop him.
After a while, Huo Jingzhao stopped.
“What are you all staring blankly for?! Go wipe the Young Sect Master’s sweat, quickly!” The Sect Master threw his handkerchief to the Male Courtesan who could catch his eye.
“Yes… Ah! Young Sect Master!” The Male Courtesan didn’t dare to dawdle. Just as he walked over, Huo Jingzhao pulled out a disciple’s sword. With a swift, clean stroke of his blade, he carved a massive “X” onto the Bagua diagram, utterly destroying it.
If this weren’t the face of the Nine Blossoms Sect, Sang Sha thought he would’ve definitely poured some unknown liquid onto it too.
Later, because the Cold Iron gate was too heavy to move, the Sect Master ordered some repairs to the holes in it. This damaged Bagua diagram was left behind as it was.
Today, recalling the image of Huo Jingzhao charging and ramming, Sang Sha still felt a chill, mixed with bitterness.
“In my spare time, I also touch it.” As Sang Sha was lost in thought, a deep, mellow male voice suddenly rang out in the great hall.
The man was dressed in an ink-purple, feather-patterned wide-sleeved robe. His figure was tall and slender. His eyes were jet-black and sharp. He had an air of extraordinary talent and handsome features. Yet the right side of his face was branded with strange Runes, ruining the features of his entire face. Only from his fair, unblemished ear could one tell he had not been bad-looking before the disfigurement.
This man was precisely the Sect Master of the Nine Blossoms Sect, Shi Wuya.
“Sect Master…!” Seeing the other party appear, Sang Sha rushed forward.
Shi Wuya picked up a wine cup from the table and sat cross-legged on the floor. “How is Jingzhao’s body?”
Sang Sha recalled the image of the man bouncing around the Pei Manor and cupped his fist in reply. “The Young Sect Master is quite energetic.”
Shi Wuya’s hand, pouring wine, paused. “Is that so? He lost the Dragon Boat Festival, yet he’s eating and sleeping well.”
Sang Sha pursed his lips in thought for a moment before responding. “The Young Sect Master is still in the Pei Manor. It’s very likely that before long, he will marry Pei Ziying. In that case, Sect Master’s plan can still proceed smoothly.”
“That’s true.” Shi Wuya curled his lip. In the sect, even the most unyielding person would shed a layer of skin if they crossed paths with that kid. He never doubted Huo Jingzhao’s ability to toy with people.
“It’s just…” Sang Sha hesitated. “The Young Sect Master seems to be paying particular attention to Family Head Pei.”
“Oh?” Shi Wuya looked up. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “You mean that Pei Minrou, who has a good-looking shell but is old-fashioned and rigid?”
“Precisely.”
“In what way is he paying particular attention?” Shi Wuya set down his wine cup, a streak of darkness flashing quickly through his eyes.
“This…” Was it the cautiousness of the first night visit? The rage when searching the whole city for the Old Doctor who had treated Pei Lianyi? Or the mad obsession of writing “love letters” and cutting silk ribbons? Sang Sha thought of many things, but suddenly felt he had no way to answer.
Seeing this, Shi Wuya slowly stood up, as if his speechlessness was within expectations. “Rest assured. Jingzhao is simply overly playful. That’s all.”
“A piece of his heart was gouged out. No person, no thing, can ever fill it.”
Hearing his nonchalant tone, Sang Sha thought to himself: You old man didn’t see the Young Sect Master lying in a rain puddle laughing like a madman. If you had, you would probably be as shocked as I am.
“Just focus on keeping an eye on him,” Shi Wuya commanded again.
“…Yes.”
Sang Sha hastily nodded in agreement, then quickly left the Nine Blossoms Sect to find the man in black that Huo Jingzhao was looking for.
After a night of damp, heavy rain, Cao Xian stood outside the bedroom, looking at the tightly shut door with worry.
Ever since midnight last night, the Family Head had once again shut himself away, refusing to see anyone. Even fresh, clean clothes and food had to be left outside the door by the maids. Only after everyone had withdrawn far from the Main Courtyard did Pei Lianyi open the door and bring them in.
This afternoon, Pei Lianyi again threw a piece of clothing out of his room, ordering him to burn it directly.
Cao Xian picked up the garment and looked. Wasn’t this the colorful robe the Family Head had worn on the day of the Dragon Boat Festival?
Pei Lianyi had a cold, proper appearance. When angered, his indifferent eyelids would flush red, giving him a hint of mature allure. Because of this, he disliked brightly colored clothes, and usually dressed even more conservatively when going to the Chamber of Commerce.
Looking as radiant as he did on the dragon boat race day was an extremely rare occurrence.
But wait. No matter how much he disliked it, it didn’t warrant burning the clothes outright, right? Cao Xian grumbled to himself.
But just then, he discovered that the gold and silver circular ornaments on the colorful robe were slightly twisted, looking as if they had been wrenched and folded by beast claws. Turning it over further, seeing the damp marks on the front of the collar, Cao Xian’s heart jolted in shock.
Not knowing what had happened to Pei Lianyi, the Old Steward didn’t dare to alert the manor. He had no choice but to go to the Side Courtyard to find Pei Ziying and ask him to visit his father.
After his injuries healed, Pei Ziying resumed his fun-loving mood. This morning, he had bumped into Huo Jingzhao washing the horses. Watching the man’s long, sculpted arms as he rolled up his sleeves, Pei Ziying, who usually hated the smell, couldn’t help but go over and strike up a conversation.
“You look quite experienced at brushing horses…”
Huo Jingzhao casually patted the horse’s rump and replied calmly, “The Huo family ancestors were hunters. Horses are a hunter’s friends. This is basic skill.”
Gazing at the man’s neat, practiced movements, Pei Ziying blushed profusely. The urge to go out and have fun grew even stronger.
Now that Cao Xian had come looking for him, before the steward could even finish saying “The Master is feeling unwell,” Pei Ziying rushed into the Main Courtyard and arrived at his father’s door.
“Father! Huo Jingzhao says he wants to go play in the mountains, catch some wild rabbits, that sort of thing. I’m going with him.”
“You know? His family were hunters by trade. Quite impressive…”
Behind the door, Pei Lianyi listened silently to his son’s words. The soreness on his body seemed to deepen.
Last night, after the Ghost-Faced Man left in a frantic rush, he had stood for a long time, bracing himself against the table and chairs. After the flush of exertion faded, a pallor stirred in the knuckles of each of his fingers. Below his waist, he had long since lost all sensation. He couldn’t even tell if they were still convulsing.
