Chapter 42: Residence of Transcendence

This was an exceedingly austere little building, its interior adorned only in stark black and white. No matter how many pots of plants and fresh flowers lined its rooms, not a hint of color dared disturb the cold and solemn mood that pervaded. Beigong Juechen stood inside, casting his gaze about, then turned to jest with the white-robed man seated behind him on the low couch, “I didn’t expect that, after all these years, your world is still only black and white.” The white-robed man’s expression remained indifferent as he studied the deep green silhouette before him, replying calmly, “In this world, there is only black and white.”

Beigong Juechen chuckled, moving to sit opposite him. “You’re still so rigid in your distinctions.” The white-robed man turned a blue-and-white porcelain cup, pouring hot tea for Beigong Qiyi. “I hear you’re getting married?”

His slender, pale fingers wrapped around the porcelain cup as Beigong Juechen laughed softly. “Even you know?” The white-robed man’s face stayed serene; he pressed his thin lips together and nodded. “The lord of Beigong is marrying—who in the martial world hasn’t heard?” Beigong Juechen sipped his tea, smiling lightly, not too warm nor cold. The white-robed man lowered his eyes, speaking softly, “Why are you suddenly getting married?” The man didn’t answer, leisurely savoring his tea. The white-robed man sat silently, not pressing. Only after most of his cup was drained did Beigong Juechen answer, unhurried, “I’m twenty-four now; it’s time for marriage.”

The white-robed man furrowed his brows, as if recalling, “I remember the first time I met you, you were only ten.” The man burst into laughter. “And you’re only a few years older than me.” When he’d gone to Frost Mountain for training, Fu Zhi had accompanied him. The youth back then was as taciturn as now, always wearing a look that warned strangers away. Yet after five years together, Beigong Juechen had understood his temperament.

Fu Zhi was indeed born cold-hearted; even when he spoke, he did so with a stern face and barely uttered a sound. Thus, his parents simply entrusted him to the elder on Frost Mountain. So Fu Zhi became the elder’s disciple, and nominally the master of the current generation of the Beigong clan.

“Enough about me—what about you?” Beigong Juechen set down his tea, curiosity piqued. “Why did you suddenly leave the mountain?” Fu Zhi blinked quietly and replied, “Everyone in the martial world knows that every generation of your Beigong family must go to Frost Mountain. They think there’s some great martial arts manual there. I couldn’t stand the disturbance, so I came down.” Beigong Juechen’s long fingers tapped the table lightly, his lips curled in amusement. “Too bad there’s no martial arts manual, only a thick stack of medical texts.” Fu Zhi looked at the flamboyant man opposite him, and the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.

They chatted for a while. Beigong Juechen glanced at the sky, stood to speak, but heard Fu Zhi’s tranquil voice, “It’s getting late. Stay for dinner before you go.” He thought of the youth probably waiting for him to eat, and laughed, shaking his head.

A pale golden brocade cloth covered the large table made of pear wood, upon which were arranged dishes of exquisite workmanship. The aroma wafted enticingly. Beigong Qiyi sat alone at the table, the maids in the hall keeping their heads down in silence. He glanced outside at the deepening evening, his slanted brows creased.

“Where has the Master gone?” Beigong Qiyi asked softly, eyes lowered. The maids behind him exchanged glances, one beautiful girl in a light purple gauze dress nervously replied, “We... we don’t know where the Master has gone.” Beigong Qiyi’s brows knitted tighter. He picked up the now-cool tea and took a small sip. “Does anyone know when the Master left the manor?” The maids all stayed silent, heads bowed. The youth snorted coldly, suddenly flinging his tea cup to the floor.

He stood and turned, his striking face expressionless as he looked at the shrinking maids. His voice was icy. “You are the Master’s maids, yet none of you know when he left. If that’s the case, what use is there in keeping you all?” The maids knelt, afraid to even breathe loudly. Though young, the youth’s aura was almost as commanding as the Master’s.

Beigong Qiyi’s expression remained cold as he watched them, his inner irritation unchanged. Since he’d returned to the manor with Xi Mo that afternoon, Beigong Juechen had not been seen. The man rarely left the manor, and if he did, was back within half a day; but now, the night was fully dark and still there was no sign of him.

As time passed, Beigong Qiyi’s patience wore thin, and his mounting frustration led him to vent on the maids. Looking at the kneeling girls, he waved them off impatiently. “Go. When the Master returns, tell him to come directly for dinner.” The maids breathed a sigh of relief, hurriedly rising and leaving with heads bowed. Beigong Qiyi rubbed his brow in agitation; the red cinnabar birthmark on his forehead was rubbed to a vivid crimson. He sat again, face sullen, and picked up a silver chopstick to take a piece of bamboo shoot—the nearest dish—chewing it fiercely.

After only a few bites, Beigong Qiyi threw down his chopsticks, snorting twice, and simply turned to face the door, arms folded, staring outside with displeasure.

About a cup of tea’s time later, Beigong Qiyi finally saw the man arrive at a leisurely pace. His wide, dark green robe blended almost entirely with the night, pale moonlight illuminating his jade-like skin.

Beigong Qiyi slowly narrowed his eyes.

The moment Beigong Juechen entered the dining hall, he sensed a chill. He raised a brow, his expression mild. “Have you eaten?” Beigong Qiyi’s vibrant face remained steady as he shook his head, “No.” Beigong Juechen glanced at him, smiling, “What’s wrong? Not in the mood? Who upset you?” Beigong Qiyi stood, walking over to him. He scrutinized the man coldly, “Where did you go?” Beigong Juechen frowned slightly, circled the youth, and sat at the head of the table. The dishes were cold, but he picked up his chopsticks and began to eat with indifference.

The youth, left aside, took a deep breath and sat down next to the man. Beigong Juechen reached out to take a slice of meat, but the youth suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“Where did you go?” He repeated, face blank. Beigong Juechen’s expression chilled, his deep green eyes sharp as blades, piercing the youth. Beigong Qiyi met his gaze directly, sitting upright, his jet-black pupils shining like cold stars above, bright and deep.

Beigong Juechen tried to free his wrist, but the youth tightened his grip. He frowned and demanded, “Let go.” The youth didn’t move, staring into the man’s eyes and asked again, “Where did you go?”

A frigid aura emanated from Beigong Juechen, but Beigong Qiyi did not yield. The two held fast, the plates on the table quivering and then shattering. Beigong Juechen forced the youth away, slamming the table and standing; the pear wood desk split instantly in two.

“Where I go has nothing to do with you,” Beigong Juechen glared coldly at the youth. Beigong Qiyi’s gaze fell on the man’s wrist—five vivid red finger marks stood out sharply. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the violence in his eyes was gone.

It’s not time yet... he thought, as crimson blood seeped from his clenched hands.

Beigong Juechen snorted harshly and strode out. At the door, he paused, speaking without turning, “The wedding date is set—the twenty-eighth of this month.”

The twenty-eighth... Eleven days left. In eleven days, this man would belong entirely to him. Beigong Qiyi’s body trembled, a strange, chilling smile blooming on his exquisite face.

That day was the twenty-eighth day of the eleventh lunar month, supposed to be utterly ordinary. Beigong Qiyi walked through the manor, observing the red decorations and ribbons everywhere. He looked up, took a deep breath; his thin but straight figure shivered—not from fear, but from excitement.

Since that unpleasant parting with Beigong Juechen in the dining hall, the two had not met once in these ten days. Beigong Qiyi had stayed in “Quiet Intent Pavilion”—not out of despair, but to concoct gu poison. Since he’d promised Ran Zhu the antidote to the love gu, he would certainly fulfill it.

Moreover, he was not only refining the antidote, but improving the gu insects Ran Zhu had given him. He had to ensure the gu would not harm Beigong Juechen. Today was Beigong Juechen’s wedding to Qiang Yanxi, and it was also the day he could truly be himself. Years of suppressed temperament and forcibly concealed desire could finally be released.

That selfish, ruthless nature; the bitterly repressed possessiveness for the man, once unleashed, would never turn back.

Beigong Qiyi caressed the jade pendant at his waist, walking slowly toward the main hall. Along the way, visitors congratulated him; he smiled as if genuinely happy for his brother’s marriage, yet the hand hidden beneath his wide sleeves was clenched, veins bulging.

He quietly memorized every person who offered congratulations. Seeing the deepening smile on Beigong Qiyi’s lips, they laughed heartily, unaware that his long, dark phoenix eyes swept over them with a hidden thought: Laugh while you can, for soon you’ll be unable to laugh at all.

Qi Yong was sweeping fallen leaves in “Pure Dust Residence.” The sword, famed throughout the martial world for its peerless sharpness, was now used to pierce the piled leaves, collecting them in a hemp sack. Qi Yong put away the sword with a slight smile.

It was a treasured blade, made by the finest craftsman alive, capable of cutting through anything. The martial world fought bloody battles over it, but in Qi Yong’s eyes, it was merely a tool—a weapon for cleaning up rubbish.

Tianqing paced anxiously outside the garden, his wooden face tinged with worry, yet he didn’t dare enter. Everyone knew “Pure Dust Residence” was the forbidden ground of the “Hundred Calamities Palace.” Aside from the palace master, anyone who dared trespass entered upright and left horizontal—some never left at all.

Tianqing remembered a woman once dearly favored by the palace master. Emboldened by her favor, she entered “Pure Dust Residence” without permission—and never came out. That was Tianqing’s first time being allowed inside. He noticed the garden was vastly different from the rest of “Hundred Calamities Palace,” and apart from himself and Qi Yong, no one else was present.

Tianqing looked around, searching for any sign of the woman, dead or alive. As if sensing his thoughts, Qi Yong watered the flowers and commented casually, “Since she liked the garden so much, I let her stay here forever.” Tianqing glanced at the patch of earth beneath his feet, catching a faint scent of blood that made his skin crawl.

Qi Yong bent to carefully water each blossom, then turned to the shocked Tianqing, “When I’m not here, you watch the garden. If anyone trespasses, I’ll kill you first.” Tianqing shuddered, gulped twice, and quickly nodded, “As you command.”

A sudden pain on his head snapped Tianqing to attention. He looked up, dazed, and after a moment recognized the man before him, “Palace Master.” He hastily bowed. Qi Yong waved his hand in amusement, “Why are you pacing in circles?” Only then did Tianqing remember his purpose, and blurted, “Palace Master, the Beigong lord is getting married today!”

“I know,” Yu Jing nodded. Tianqing eyed his master’s calm demeanor, feeling the urge to punch him—to see if the palace master was possessed!

The palace master’s behavior was off! The Beigong lord was getting married! For a while, Tianqing had thought his master was plotting something, but now, with the wedding imminent, he still showed no reaction. It was definitely not normal!

Qi Yong saw Tianqing’s shocked look and laughed quietly, “Today is not a good day.” Of course it wasn’t! Tianqing roared internally: This is the day your man is being taken by another woman!

Only the first half of Tianqing’s guess was right—the second was wrong. Beigong Juechen was indeed being taken, but not by a woman, by a man!

Eagle-sharp eyes gazed into the distance. Qi Yong murmured, “Today, ‘Li Manor’ will be even redder...” The festive red of a wedding would mingle with the crimson of blood, red upon red.

The wind turned chilly, lotus fragrance drifting.

Beigong Qiyi leaned against the white marble railing of the pavilion, gazing at the full bloom of lotus flowers in the pond. Locks of hair by his cheeks danced in the wind. “Why are you here?” the youth suddenly asked.

The purple-robed man sitting on a stone bench behind him twirled his fan and laughed, “Your brother is getting married today—how could I not come?” Beigong Qiyi sneered, “I suppose you’re here for the spectacle?” The purple-robed man touched his nose, a bit embarrassed, “I’m here to stop you from doing anything reckless, so you don’t make a terrible mistake.”

Beigong Qiyi turned, scrutinizing him expressionlessly. The purple-robed man shivered at the chill in the air. The youth withdrew his gaze, voice heavy, “Chu Muji, you know me. When I want something, no one can stop me.”

Chu Muji gripped the fan tightly, stepped closer, and spoke softly, “Beigong, once you do this, there’s no turning back. Do you really want your brother to hate you?” Beigong Qiyi looked at the upright lotus flowers, his lips curling in ridicule, “They say lotuses emerge unstained from the mud, pure and untainted...”

Chu Muji, anxious to hear him speak, watched as the youth suddenly leapt and plucked a lotus flower, then shoved it deep into the mud. Chu Muji’s heart trembled; Beigong Qiyi had already returned before him.

Beigong Qiyi swayed the lotus in his hand, eyes narrowed. “If he hates me, let him hate. I’ll find a way to make him love me. I want him—his body, his heart, for him to belong to me alone, unable to leave me.”

Seeing the mud-stained white lotus in the youth’s hand, Chu Muji’s heart finally sank.

Author’s note: There’s a little more today; the next two days might not have updates. Lately, things have been busy, plus I’m working on a new story, so daily updates may not be possible. Expect updates every other day. Starting next month, daily updates should return.