Qin Zheng curved his lips—smiling, even as tears fell from his eyes. "I only wish Funing a smooth road ahead. I have no regrets."
With the words, the black vapor around him dissolved entirely. Ling Wu knew: his obsession was released.
Just then, a faint floral fragrance drifted to her nose.
Qingchen's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah-Wu is quite good at bending definitions."
"Master~ your disciple simply has the heart of a bodhisattva~" Ling Wu flashed her sweetest smile and wheedled.
Sure enough, his expression dissolved into resignation.
He tapped her forehead lightly and said no more.
Shen Ci never went to the study. Instead he drifted to the riverbank behind the rear courtyard.
Yunshu had said the women he'd "taken" were housed in the empty rooms here. Now they were nowhere to be seen.
Dismissed, most likely, Ling Wu thought.
He stood there quietly, thoughts churning, images of Qin Zheng and Li Funing flickering through his mind.
The man was gone; no amount of resentment could change that.
When Li Funing had asked her question, he had nearly lost hold of himself—nearly spoken the secret buried at the bottom of his heart.
But what meaning would such words have now?
Those two loved each other like gold. The living never win against the dead.
A cool wind stirred his robes; his crimson figure looked lonelier still under the moon.
Then, half in a daze, he heard Li Funing's voice.
"Shen Ci."
He turned—straight into her gaze. Her eyes curved with a smile, just like the first night. "So that day, it was you."
Then the tears came again, blank and slow.
Shen Ci's whole frame shuddered.
Watching the two well-matched figures, a sense of fullness bloomed in Ling Wu's chest. There was still time for everything.
Quietly they left the Shen residence. Qingchen found an empty spot to send Qin Zheng off.
"Your ties to the mortal world are settled. Go now and reincarnate."
He raised a hand; a thread of golden light shot from his fingertip into the ground. Before long, the earth began to change. In the dark night, a tall, slender figure approached slowly, faintly eerie.
Ling Wu ducked behind Qingchen, frightened all over again.
The Black and White Wuchang had left their scar on her. She couldn't stand these ghostly things—and yet her cursed curiosity made her crane her neck to see who came.
The arrival wore black, robes hanging loose as if he'd just bathed, held by a single sash, a pale collarbone glimpsed at the opening, long hair spilling down his back. The whole of him was lazy, indolent grace.
But it was his mismatched eyes you couldn't look away from—light shifting inside them like treasure.
Beauty was beauty; she had always been partial to beautiful things.
She wasn't alone—even Qin Zheng stared, dumbstruck.
Catching Ling Wu's stare, Guyuan curved his lips in a roguish smile. "Last time I had the White Wuchang relay an invitation—Miss Ah-Wu, do come tour the Ghost Realm. I hear I was politely refused. Ai, this lord was ever so heartbroken~"
So this was the Ghost Lord.
Now she understood. Her senior brothers had long described the ruler of the Ghost Realm: a face caught between man and woman, born with mismatched eyes, and a manner straight out of a playboy. Seeing was believing.
Heartbroken, my foot! Were they even acquainted? Did he have to call her so familiarly?
She smiled without warmth. "When I'm dead, I'll have all the time in the world for the Ghost Realm. You can show me around properly then, Lord Ghost."
Ha. Dead or not, she'd cling to Mount Kunlun regardless.
To her surprise, at those words Qingchen's body tensed.
Guyuan saw it, and smiled without a word, eyes drifting between the two of them.
He stepped up to Qin Zheng and tapped with one fingertip, saying sweetly, "This lord is ever merciful to ghosts. Your sentence: the Seventh Layer of Hell."
Red light flashed; something was drawn out of him, and Qin Zheng's face went vacant.
A small ghost answered the summons, clasped a soul-locking chain around Qin Zheng, and bore him down into the earth—one smooth, practiced motion.
Ling Wu wondered privately: how many torments were in the Seventh Layer? Could Qin Zheng endure them?
Suddenly Guyuan turned to Qingchen. "Forgive the intrusion, Lord God. Twice I've disturbed your peace—my failing."
Owning his error—yet she couldn't detect a shred of apology in him.
Qingchen replied flatly, "No matter."
"Miss Ah-Wu, truly no tour of the Ghost Realm?" He fixed his gaze on her, coaxing. "It's not as dreadful as you imagine. Past the place where wicked ghosts are punished, the Naihe Bridge, the River of Forgetting—scenery rarely seen anywhere else. It even stirs old memories~"
Qingchen's brow furrowed; he stepped squarely in front of Ling Wu. "She is not to be disturbed. Ah-Wu has cultivation to attend to."
Guyuan tilted his body, ignoring him entirely, and raised a brow at Ling Wu, unhurried. "Surely the lady isn't quite so diligent? I remember how you loved to run wild. The mortal realm's every lake and sea—you wore them all out."
Ling Wu was bewildered. She did love to roam—but only a handful of small mortal towns. And what "past" did she have? From birth to now she'd cultivated on Kunlun; when had this creature ever appeared in her life?
For no reason she could name, her head began to ache dully. That feeling again—the sense of grasping at something just out of reach.
Qingchen's face went cold. "Mind your words, Ghost Lord. My disciple has been beneath my care since birth. Do not smear her name without cause."
Guyuan ignored his mood entirely. "And how can you guarantee she'll stay beneath your care forever? Some things, she will remember in the end."
Those words again. Ling Wu remembered—Yizhen had said the same. What exactly had she forgotten?
Qingchen narrowed his eyes. "Ah-Wu."
"Your disciple is here."
"Don't let him cloud your mind." He looked at her, voice low and deliberate. "Keep faith in me, and me alone. Do not listen to others' words."
The "others," naturally, meant Guyuan.
Guyuan had watched their whole exchange. A lift of the brow, a lazy smile.
Driving a wedge between them would not be easy, it seemed.
Ling Wu trusted Qingchen unconditionally. Stand by your own, right or wrong—she knew that doctrine well.
This creature from underground was insufferable—so rude to her master!
She steadied herself and, bold as brass, spoke up for Qingchen: "Enough of your nonsense—I don't know you! Don't say such things again! And for the record: I am my master's disciple. Ascended or not, I will stay at his side forever. You needn't concern yourself!"
Guyuan laughed, a smile that chilled the skin. "Who says you don't know me?"
Then he flickered right in front of her, hand rising toward her forehead. Ling Wu stumbled back, terrified.
But before he could touch her, Qingchen cut in. His lips pressed thin, his face darkened, his manner turned to ice. "Lay a hand on Ah-Wu again, and this lord will not stand on courtesy."
At that, Guyuan obediently withdrew his hand.
He went on watching Ling Wu sidelong, smiling. "I only wished to stand closer and see how she has changed. What a temper the Lord God has."
"My little disciple startles easily. Keep your distance, Ghost Lord. The ghost matter is settled—go home."
Guyuan's mouth curved. "Ai ai, no need to rush me off, Lord God! We haven't met in years—I only wish to linger with an old friend." He turned to Ling Wu. "What a pity the old friend looks at me without recognition. My heart simply aches~"
Old friend this, old friend that—she could quote Li Bai too!
Ling Wu rolled her eyes inwardly. This Guyuan was simply too hard to shake.
Even her master, the most even-tempered of immortals, had been provoked past gentleness.