Chapter 34 (1/2): After the Fact

The person behind him seemed to move.

A warm breath brushed against the back of his neck.

Shen Mo trembled all over.

“Awake?” Qin Shuying’s voice came from behind, carries the rasp of someone who had just woken up, low and lazy. “Pretending to sleep won’t fool me.”

Shen Mo did not move, nor did he open his eyes.

Qin Shuying let out a soft chuckle.

That laughter was light, but it pierced his heart like a needle.

She propped herself up and looked down at him. Her long hair cascaded down, sweeping across his bare shoulders, feeling somewhat itchy.

Shen Mo finally opened his eyes.

He met her gaze.

“Does it hurt?”

Shen Mo said nothing.

Qin Shuying withdrew her hand, sat up, and began to dress.

Her movements were efficient. As she tied her belt, she spoke without looking back. “It was just a matter of clearing poison. There is no need to blame yourself.”

Shen Mo was stunned.

Hearing those words, he still could not truly let it go.

“P… Peak Master Qin, you…”

“Still calling me Peak Master?” Qin Shuying raised an eyebrow. Instead of getting angry, she reached out and pinched Shen Mo’s chin, her thumb rubbing against his lip. Her eyes were terrifyingly bright. “That’s not what you were calling me last night.”

Shen Mo’s face instantly flushed crimson.

Watching his expression of shame and indignation, the excitement in Qin Shuying’s eyes intensified.

“Shuying,” he said softly, “you have cultivated to the Nascent Soul stage, so you must be at least 100 years old. During that time, have you… have you never had anyone? Not even one?”

Qin Shuying frowned.

She found the question quite foolish.

“No,” she said.

Shen Mo stared at her.

“Then what about… those suitors?”

“Killed them.”

“…”

“Or crippled them.”

“…”

“There were a few who wouldn’t leave me alone, and a few who were particularly lewd,” Qin Shuying’s tone was flat, as if she were discussing what to eat for the day. “They are buried in the back mountain.”

Shen Mo’s heart skipped a beat.

“You can leave now.” Qin Shuying put on her outer robe and stood up, her back toward him. “While the sun hasn’t risen yet, no one will see you.”

Shen Mo moved.

Pain.

His entire body ached.

Grit his teeth, he sat up and fumbled for his clothes. His robes were torn, but they were still wearable, though the collar could not hide the row of bite marks.

He kept his head down, putting his clothes back on one by one.

His movements were slow.

It was not just because of the pain, but because he did not know how to face her.

Last night had indeed been a matter of life and death, an act of necessity, but now, he felt unable to lift his head.

Qin Shuying never looked back.

She stood by the window, hands behind her back, watching the graying sky outside like a sword sheathed in its scabbard.

Shen Mo finished dressing and stood up.

He took two steps toward the door, then stopped.

“Lady Qin,” he spoke.

Qin Shuying did not move, nor did she respond.

Shen Mo looked at her back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. In the end, he said nothing.

He pushed open the door.

The cold wind rushed in, making him shiver.

Dawn had not yet broken. Outside was a murky gray, everything reduced to blurry silhouettes. He stepped over the threshold, his gait uneven as he walked away.

Qin Shuying stood by the window, her profile outlined in cold lines by the dim light of the sky.

She watched him disappear.

She turned around.

The room was empty, leaving only the mess on the floor and a torn piece of fabric to prove what had happened last night.

She walked over, knelt down, and picked up that scrap of cloth.

It had been torn from his outer robe, a piece of moon-white fabric stained with blood and other traces.

Qin Shuying held the fabric, staring at it for a long time.

Then, she tucked the cloth into her sleeve.

Outside, the sun finally rose.

……

By the time Shen Mo returned to Jiaoyue Peak, it was broad daylight.

He avoided all the paths where he might encounter others, slipping in through the small trail in the back mountain and sneaking back to his courtyard.

The moment he pushed open the door, he froze.

Someone was sitting in the courtyard.

Lin Jingzhe.

She sat by the stone table, twirling a fallen leaf in her hand. Hearing the commotion, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

Shen Mo instinctively clutched his collar tighter.

Lin Jingzhe’s gaze fell on his hand, then moved to his face.

Her eyes were sharp, sharp as a blade.

Shen Mo knew what she was looking at—his pale complexion, the dark circles under his eyes, and his stiff posture as he walked.

“You’re back?” Lin Jingzhe stood up, her tone as aggressive as usual. “I thought you died at Heavenly Sword Peak.”

Shen Mo said nothing, keeping his head down as he walked toward the house.

Lin Jingzhe did not stop him.

However, the moment they brushed past each other, she suddenly spoke.

“Shen Mo.”

He stopped.

Lin Jingzhe looked at the back of his neck. There were red marks peeking out from under his collar, resembling finger prints.

She tightened her grip on the leaf.

“You — ” she paused, her voice a bit dry. “Are you okay?”

Shen Mo stood with his back to her for a while.

Then he said, “I’m fine.”

His voice was as flat as stagnant water.

Lin Jingzhe opened her mouth, but she did not know what to say.

She was never the type to offer comfort.

She only knew how to curse and mock.

But now, she suddenly realized she didn’t even know how to curse him.

Because she could smell the scent on him.

It was faint, but it did not escape her nose.

It was that same cold scent, carrying a certain sense of satisfied proclamation to the world.

Shen Mo pushed the door open and walked inside.

The door closed behind him.

Lin Jingzhe stood in the courtyard, staring at the closed door. The fallen leaf was crushed into powder in her palm.

Inside.

Shen Mo leaned against the door and slowly slid down to the floor.

He hugged his knees and buried his face in them.

There was no sound.

Only his shoulders were shaking.

Outside the door, Lin Jingzhe was still standing there.

She stood for a long time.

She stood until the sun moved from the east to the center of the sky, until a disciple passed by and asked what she was doing, only to be chased away with a “Get lost.”

She did not know why she was standing there.

She was only thinking that his “I’m fine” just now sounded a lot like “I’m not fine.”

She raised her hand, wanting to knock.

Her hand hovered in mid-air, then dropped.

It dropped, then raised again.

Finally, she kicked the door hard.

“Shen Mo!” she shouted at the door. “Listen to me — no matter what happened, as long as you’re still alive, it’s fine! If you’re alive, you can get through anything!”

There was no response from within.

Lin Jingzhe waited a bit longer before finally turning to leave.

After walking 10 steps, she stopped again and glanced back at the door.

“Bitch,” she cursed, her voice as low as a sigh.

Then she left.

This time, she truly left.

Inside.

Shen Mo was still sitting behind the door.

He heard Lin Jingzhe’s words.

He heard the footsteps fade away.

He lifted his head. His eyes were red, but there were no tear tracks on his face.

He could not cry.

They were just dry and stinging.

He slowly stood up and walked to the bronze mirror.

The person in the mirror was deathly pale with dark circles, cracked lips, and looking incredibly wretched.

Between his collar, the blue and purple marks were shocking to behold.

“You can hate me, you can resent me, you can be unwilling — but you must live.”

He remembered those words.

He remembered her expression when she said them.

He remembered the moonlight falling on her face, making those eyes look as deep as an abyss.

After a long time.

He suddenly gave a small smile.

It was very light, very faint, carrying an indiscernible meaning.

“Live,” he whispered the word.

Then he raised his hand and slowly buttoned his collar.

He covered the bite marks.

He covered everything that had happened last night.

Outside the window, the sun gradually dipped toward the west.

Jiaoyue Peak was as quiet as ever.

……

The news of Chao’er’s fall arrived on the 3rd night.

The one who brought the news was a disciple who was more dead than alive. She was from the outer gate of Jiaoyue Peak and had accompanied Chao’er to the Secret Realm.

When she was carried in, she was covered in blood. Her left arm had been severed at the root.

The cloth wrapping the wound had been soaked through with blood, dried, and soaked again, leaving it a blackened red mess.

Shen Mo was checking this month’s spiritual field revenue under the lamp when he received the report.

The candle flickered. The brush in his hand fell onto the ledger, staining it with a blot of ink.