6. The Sword Mark Between the Brows

This outburst caused quite a stir. The people nearby were so terrified they dared not utter a sound, and the guards and stewards all placed their hands on their sword hilts, ready to seize and punish anyone at the slightest gesture from Chu Le.

It seems the Chu family’s power has only grown since I was sealed away. Before I recover my spirit bone, I must be extremely careful; I must not let this wretch discover my trail!

Sheng Ningyu sighed inwardly, though she feigned fear on the surface, her body trembling as she cowered. "The two of us have just been expelled from our sect by our master. We wanted to seek treatment for the scars on my face, but our pockets are empty. We only heard the waiter say breakfast was free of charge, so we..."

Sheng Ningyu’s voice grew lower and lower, as if she were frightened out of her wits.

Chu Le cast a glance, and a steward hurried to inquire. A moment later, the steward bowed and whispered, "It is indeed as they say."

Chu Le was still not satisfied. He turned and asked, "Are you two cultivators?"

Sheng Ningyu replied, "We are music cultivators."

Chu Le let out a scoff, tilting his chin arrogantly. "There is a zither upstairs. Can the two of you play it?"

"We can," Sheng Ningyu answered readily, "though we do not play it well."

Chu Le narrowed his eyes, as if he had caught her in a trap. "If you are music cultivators, why can you not play the zither well?"

Sheng Ningyu looked completely sincere. "That is why we were both expelled from our sect."

Chu Le: "..."

The onlookers: "..."

That made perfect sense.

Everything seemed to check out, yet Chu Le still felt that something was amiss. However, just as he was about to defy his instincts and force them to perform, Sheng Ningyu raised her hand, seemingly adjusting her veil, and with perfect timing, revealed her red and swollen face.

Immediately, the murmurs of the surrounding cultivators grew louder. Among the sympathy and pity, there was no lack of schadenfreude.

Chu Le stiffened once more. He had a steward verify their cultivation levels, and upon confirming they were indeed low-level, he grew even colder, waving his hand to tell the "two eyesores" to get out.

Sheng Ningyu was still secretly laughing as she turned to leave. Like Chu Chang'an, this descendant of his also suffered from a soft heart. Yet, back in the day, that wretch Chu Chang'an had shown her no mercy when the end finally came.

Sheng Ningyu followed the others back to their room, no longer an "eyesore" downstairs. As the door creaked shut, warm breath brushed against her ear.

"I observed that just now, Fellow Daoist Ning seemed quite soft-hearted toward that young master of the Chu family?"

Xie Qianjing’s tone was no different than before, his lips curled in a smile, as if filled with gentle mirth. Yet, beneath this spring-flower gentleness was a reality soaked in blood and mire.

Sheng Ningyu did not turn her head, her expression unchanged. "Where was I soft-hearted? If I weren't unable to defeat them, do you think I would be willing to waste so many words on them?"

Xie Qianjing gave a vague laugh and then said slowly, "That is why you should consume my flesh and blood."

Sheng Ningyu’s brow twitched violently. She turned her head and raised an eyebrow, about to say something to brush the topic aside, when the man before her said lightly:

"My flesh and blood have the effect of repairing human bones. If one is in good health, they can even be used to break through to higher realms. That is why the Chu family has kept me locked in the dungeon all this time."

Sheng Ningyu: "..."

Fine.

He had said it after all.

Hearing the sigh of resignation from the person opposite her, Xie Qianjing laughed again. He laughed with such gentle ease, like ripples on a pond when a lotus petal drifts down, as if he did not realize how shocking the information he had just dropped was. He sat upright at the table, one hand propping up his chin, watching Sheng Ningyu without blinking.

"Fellow Daoist Ning must have guessed it already, hadn't you? Regarding my flesh and blood." Xie Qianjing tilted his head, his posture casual and leisurely, not a hint of tension in him. Yet, the tone of his voice held a chill that contrasted sharply with the smile on his face.

He said, "Since Fellow Daoist Ning also wishes to take revenge, why not consume my flesh and blood to repair your bones? I do not mind; after all, it is the best and fastest way."

The curtains were drawn, and sunlight filtered through the window panes, scattering across the room in a chaotic, broken pattern. Some rays fell on the floor, some on the bed, but not a single one touched Xie Qianjing.

Sheng Ningyu looked at him steadily. Hearing this, she let out a lazy, upward-inflected hum, full of jest: "Let me take revenge? And take yours along with it? — Xie Qianjing, we are total strangers, having just met by chance. Why do you trust me so much?"

Though the words sounded like a joke, there was no lack of probing within them. Perhaps Xie Qianjing thought of something, for he grew quiet for a moment, then gave a very, very soft response.

The sound was as light as a flower falling to the ground, its tail end curling up with a hint of mockery, sounding more like a scoff than an answer to anyone else’s ears.

Sheng Ningyu blinked: "?"

Was that it?

For no reason at all, how did she offend him again?

Just as Sheng Ningyu lowered her head to ponder, she heard Xie Qianjing say, "Your hands were born to hold a sword."

This sentence lacked any hint of a smile, as cold and indifferent as a stranger on the road reminding her that she had dropped something. Sheng Ningyu’s heart tightened; she glanced at Xie Qianjing.

He sat upright at the table, cold as glazed jade, without a smile or any trace of worldly warmth. It was strange, but Sheng Ningyu felt that this Xie Qianjing was the true one.

She rotated the wrist hidden in her sleeve and curled her lips. "It seems my left-handed swordplay from that day left a deep impression on you. But I must clarify beforehand—"

"Right hand."

Sheng Ningyu’s wrist-turning motion froze. She snapped her eyes up. "Fellow Daoist Xie must have misremembered. My right hand cannot wield a sword."

Her face still wore a careless smile, but her eyes were sharp as blades. However, Xie Qianjing looked back at her as if he felt nothing, smiling faintly. "Is that so? Then it must be my memory failing me."

Sheng Ningyu returned the smile. She stepped forward casually, her left hand beneath her sleeve gripping the tree branch she had sharpened to a lethal point.

She had formed the intent to kill him again.

Xie Qianjing’s eyes curved, his smile filled with pleasure.

That’s fine, he thought. He was the same. Every moment, never ceasing.

Sunlight overflowed from the gaps, while he sat alone in the darkness. Yet, as Sheng Ningyu took that step forward, the light shifted, and a ray turned from her body to land squarely on the center of Xie Qianjing's brow.

His face was like white porcelain, his temperament as cold as snow on a mountain peak, yet that vermilion mark on his brow revealed a hint of human vitality.

No, that was not a beauty mark.

It was—

"This scar." Sheng Ningyu stared at it for a long time, even stepping forward involuntarily to reach out and hover a finger over the center of his brow. "...Was this also done by the Chu family?"

Her left hand let go. The intent to kill dissipated without a trace.

A sudden emotion rose in her heart, though Xie Qianjing could not tell if it was "regret." He lowered his eyes, appearing completely indifferent to recalling those painful memories, and said lightly, "I have many scars on my body. Which one are you asking about?"

Even though he was sitting and she was standing, putting him a head shorter, Sheng Ningyu felt inexplicably as though she were the one at a disadvantage.

Everything was under his control.

This was a feeling Sheng Ningyu had had since the moment she met Xie Qianjing—even when he wore that faint, gentle smile. But at this moment, Sheng Ningyu could not care about such things. She urgently wanted the answer, her voice becoming cold and hard. "The one on your brow, was it done by the Chu family?"

Xie Qianjing curled his lips into a light smile and answered cleanly, "No."

"Those Chu family members want to use my flesh and blood, so naturally, they understand the principle of not draining the pond to catch the fish. For instance, the flesh from my chest has the best medicinal effect and is reserved for the heads of the family; the rest is just from my arms and wrists. As for my brow—"

Before he could finish, his previously steady breathing suddenly grew heavy. Xie Qianjing raised his hand and gripped the hand that was pointing at his brow tightly.

"Fellow Daoist Ning," Xie Qianjing looked up, his voice somewhat hoarse, "such behavior is perhaps a bit presumptuous."

His hand was freezing.

Like frost and snow on a mountain peak. For a moment, Sheng Ningyu felt almost stung by the cold. She did not know where the dense, prickling pain in her heart came from; she only knew that, at this moment, she could not muster a single shred of killing intent toward Xie Qianjing.

"My apologies. I was in a rush and acted out of turn." Sheng Ningyu tried to pull her hand back, but she tugged at her right wrist and could not break free.

Xie Qianjing held her palm and examined her wrist. "Fellow Daoist Ning, your right hand is severely injured."

Sheng Ningyu’s mouth twitched. Looking at his smiling face as he tilted his head up, she could almost hear his next words in her mind.

"So, really, won't you consider my flesh and blood?"

"No!"

Both of them spoke at the same time, but Sheng Ningyu’s refusal was short and forceful, leaving only Xie Qianjing’s voice echoing in the room.

Xie Qianjing watched her for a long time, holding her wrist, his eyes curved in a merry smile as he asked, "Why?"

It was clearly she who had proposed consuming his flesh and blood in the first place.

Xie Qianjing was still holding her right wrist, but unexpectedly, Sheng Ningyu did not feel threatened. She blinked and simply sat down beside him, her entire posture collapsing as she leaned against the table, completely relaxed.

Compared to Xie Qianjing’s elegant and refined demeanor, where every movement was slow and graceful like a noble scion, Sheng Ningyu’s posture was much more unrestrained and free.

"Where did you get the medicinal herbs and bandages?"

"I gathered the herbs last night, and I asked the waiter for the bandages," Xie Qianjing said. "You still haven't answered my question."

Sheng Ningyu gave an "oh" and did not press him, letting Xie Qianjing tend to her right hand while she tilted her head, not caring where her hair fell. "No reason, I just don't want to eat your flesh and blood."

She was being flippant, lacking any seriousness.

Xie Qianjing’s movements as he applied the medicine paused. He glanced at her, his smile fading, and he appeared chillingly cold. "Would someone else's be fine?"

This question was too strange, but Sheng Ningyu inexplicably understood what he meant.

"Hard to say." Sheng Ningyu narrowed her eyes, saying heartlessly, "I’m not that kind-hearted. If I met someone I didn't like or couldn't stand, I might just be like the Chu family and tie them to my side, feeding on their flesh and blood day and night."

No sooner had the words left her lips than her right hand was squeezed tightly.

Sheng Ningyu let out a hiss and looked up at Xie Qianjing, complaining almost reflexively: "Can you be more gentle? That hurts too much."

Xie Qianjing did not even look up. "Only if it hurts will you remember the lesson."

Once those words were out, they both fell silent again.

Light and shadow drifted, dust motes dancing in the air. Sheng Ningyu rested her head on her own arm, narrowing her eyes to admire Xie Qianjing’s pure, lotus-like countenance from the side. The more she looked, the more familiar he seemed.

It was as if once, there had been someone else who, when she was injured from practicing the sword, would be willing to carefully bandage her wounds. Even if it took a long time, even if it violated the rules, even if it meant crossing oceans and mountains for her. Those wounds she never cared about were all repaired by that person, bit by bit, gently and carefully.

It wasn't her fiancé Chu Chang'an, nor was it her second senior brother Rong Que, and it certainly couldn't be that busy-as-a-bee Feng Xiaosheng...

Who was it?

Sheng Ningyu felt as if her mind were covered in a layer of mist. Everything she had once taken for granted now seemed to hold a subtle, strange quality. Her memories regarding Chu Chang'an were perfect and clear. Yet, it was precisely because they were so perfect and clear that they felt rather odd.

"Xie Qianjing." Sheng Ningyu rested on her arm, watching the person before her without blinking. "Have we met before?"

Her eyes were beautiful—not the sculpted, perfect kind of beauty, but a beauty filled with vitality and reckless abandon. Like a moon hanging in the sky, carrying a river of stars, casting its moonlight boundlessly upon all who made a wish.

Xie Qianjing let go of her hand and began tidying up the items on the table. "I thought Fellow Daoist Xie would first ask me how I escaped from the Chu family."

She felt that he had become somewhat colder again. But this version of him seemed to be the real one.

Sheng Ningyu tilted her head. "I think this question is more important."

Xie Qianjing did not look back, and his movements in tidying up did not stop for a second.

"Naturally, we have never met." He packed away the herbs, and hearing her words, he took a moment to look up. "The Chu family will realize what happened sooner or later. At most, we can rest for one more day; we must leave tomorrow morning."

Sheng Ningyu agreed and stood up to push the door open, but she stopped when her hand touched the latch.

Her right wrist was carefully wrapped in bandages, far neater than the messy job she had done herself last night.

"By the way, Fellow Daoist Xie, everything was unclear before, so I withheld some things." Sheng Ningyu turned her head. "My surname is Sheng."

Xie Qianjing paused, turning to look at her.

Under the bright sun, the dust of the floating world swirled, obscuring their vision, blurring the moment as if they had truly returned to some year, some month, in their youth. Young people meeting for the first time, harboring the teachings of their masters, wary and suspicious of one another, yet unable to resist the curiosity of testing the waters. Truths and lies, masks and revelations.

"But my name is real."

Sheng Ningyu raised her eyebrows and smiled, her eyes curved like a crescent moon. Even after experiencing so much, her smile remained bright and bold, as if she were that girl from their first meeting, holding a long sword, ready to pierce the heavens.

"My name really is Mingyue. My friends and teachers in the past all called me that."

It was clearly she who had been deceptive, yet she was righteous and confident, her expression so carefree and unrestrained that there wasn't a hint of apology.

—It had always been like this.

It seemed she really hadn't changed at all.

Xie Qianjing’s long lashes fluttered. He lowered his eyelids, hiding the flash of dark red in his pupils.

"Thank you, Fellow Daoist Sheng, for telling me the truth. I have noted it."

From beginning to end, he never looked up.

Sheng Ningyu smiled and walked away without looking back. Even though she had told him her surname, it didn't stop her from feeling that Xie Qianjing was lying.

After all, what was left on his brow...

Sheng Ningyu rubbed the tree branch in her hand, thinking with some hesitation.

That scar looked a bit like the mark of her sword.