Chapter 107: Who Is He

The storm was gathering, the sky growing darker by the minute. That night, they stayed at the only inn within a hundred miles: the Violet Mountain Inn. As the carriage came to a halt, Xuexue slowly awoke. Tilting her head, she realized the place where she had been resting felt different—firm, yet carrying the familiar texture of clothing and a subtle, unique scent.

It was a floral fragrance, faint but not cloying. She soon understood that the scent belonged to Zuo Qiu Liye.

Sitting up, she brushed her confused forehead. Truly, she should not have slept under his nose; she might never know how she died if she did.

"Well, are you planning to turn hostile now that you're awake?" Zuo Qiu Liye watched her movements, his tone tinged with displeasure.

"Naturally, once I wake, I should return to my own place. I know my status," she replied, fully aware she was a captive, not a guest.

He snorted, his voice ambiguous.

Outside, Elder Yue and Gongshen Ling'er stood at the inn’s entrance. Their entourage was busy arranging matters, everything proceeding in an orderly fashion.

"Our lord truly keeps a close eye on that blind girl—he even had her travel in the same carriage. When did he change his nature, allowing a woman so close?" Gongshen Ling'er mused, gazing thoughtfully at the ornate carriage.

Though she was the only woman allowed near Zuo Qiu, she never dared cross his boundaries; even sharing a carriage was a rare occurrence. Now, had his limits been so easily broken by a blind girl?

"I’ve heard that the Blood Queen is particularly cunning and possesses strange abilities. Perhaps only the lord can restrain her. She escaped from his grasp once, twice—who knows if there will be a third time?"

"Is that so?" Gongshen Ling'er seemed to speak to herself, then turned to enter the inn.

She was a woman; a woman’s intuition is sharpest. Zuo Qiu’s intentions toward that blind girl might not be so simple.

But she knew his character. It was just a woman; surely not enough to stir his heart.

Elder Yue remained smiling at the entrance. When the inn was properly arranged, he finally spoke toward the carriage, "My lord, everything is ready."

His voice was gentle, warming all who heard it.

Upon hearing him, Xuexue turned her head. This was the man who ambushed them at Raven Mountain—calling himself Yue, addressed as Elder Yue by Ji Wu Qing.

Though their interactions had been brief, Elder Yue left a lasting impression: sly and gentle, or, in kinder terms, quietly shrewd.

"What are you thinking about? Or do you find Elder Yue’s voice pleasant?" Zuo Qiu Liye’s tone was oddly mocking, his captivating, almost demonic face leaning closer to Xuexue, exuding an inexplicable pressure.

"The Lord’s voice isn’t bad either," she replied, neither denying nor affirming, her manner indifferent.

"Then remember my voice."

What did he mean?

Xuexue frowned, unable to unravel his words before Zuo Qiu Liye suddenly lifted her into his arms.

He carried her out of the carriage—in full view of everyone. The moment seemed frozen in time.

Though Zuo Qiu Liye had carried Xuexue before, such a scene unsettled the attendants. Their lord was so attentive to this woman!

Xuexue responded calmly. Her feet had lost all feeling; perhaps frozen. That would be troublesome—not ideal for escaping, after all.

---

Rain crashed down suddenly, the wind whipping the droplets fiercely. The downpour was abrupt and urgent, imposing, like blades piercing the heart.

The rain's sound was like an unusual symphony, reminiscent of a mountain waterfall—not the clarity of a spring, nor the gentleness of a stream, but wild and untamed.

Rainy days always carried a melancholy.

It wasn't until dinner that Xuexue saw Yueying again. The two had not spoken on the journey, Yueying traveling in another carriage, seemingly with Elder Yue and Gongshen Ling'er.

"Sister, I finally see you—it puts my mind at ease." Yueying ran to her side, her curled, tawny hair giving her an exotic air; her pale blue eyes wary as she looked at Zuo Qiu Liye.

"If only you could put my mind at ease," Xuexue sighed, reaching out to pat her arm.

"Don’t worry, I’ve been very well-behaved," Yueying promised, looking meek and obedient.

She couldn’t cause her sister trouble—just waiting for King Ji to rescue them.

But these people were so loathsome, especially Zuo Qiu Liye. Beautiful as a flower, but rotten at heart. Always tormenting Xuexue, making Yueying dislike him greatly.

"Miss Yueying is indeed much more obedient in the Blood Queen’s presence." Suddenly, the man in moon-colored robes blocked her view, standing between her and Zuo Qiu Liye.

He had gentle eyes, like moonlight on a clear night.

"That’s because I like Sister Xue," she replied, feeling that Elder Yue was somewhat strange—gentle like moonlight, yet cold as the Palace of Eternal Frost.

In any case, she didn’t like talking to Elder Yue. Too many odd people.

"When did Elder Yue take to teasing young girls?" Gongshen Ling'er overheard, glancing at Xuexue and sweeping Yueying with her eyes.

"Young mistress, what do you mean? I would never tease," Elder Yue replied solemnly.

"Is that so?" Gongshen Ling'er snorted softly.

Dinner was tasteless, and after eating, Xuexue retired to rest. She sat on the bed but felt no sleepiness.

Her feet touched the carpeted floor, still weak, but she managed to stand. She fumbled about the room, eventually making her way to the window. The rain outside had not ceased, still falling gently.

She pushed open the window, letting in a cold wind laced with rain. The chill was biting, yet it cleared her mind.

Standing by the window, she tilted her head, sensing something strange—as though someone had been watching her.

It was not her imagination. Someone stood hidden, their gaze probing and uncertain.

Who could it be?

She tilted her head, unable to make sense of it. Exhausted, she closed the window and returned to bed to rest.

Sinking into the soft bedding, she drifted toward sleep.

Suddenly, the bed curtain was lifted, a hand appeared through the gauze.

The room was silent, the figure moving like a phantom.

"Who’s there?" Xuexue sensed something amiss.

Alert, she failed to notice the person’s actions—a single hand lifted her.

"Forgive me, master!" The unfamiliar yet familiar voice brushed her ear as the person easily wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand holding something.

---

"You are…?" Who was he? Why did he seem so familiar?

He called her master—could it be… Lingyin?

The answer was clear, but utterly unexpected.

"So you’ve finally appeared." Zuo Qiu Liye, who had been waiting, spoke languidly from the doorway, resembling a ghostly messenger in the darkness. "You’ve followed us all this way without acting—have you finally found your confidence? I’d like to see what you’re capable of."

His words were laced with murderous intent. He elegantly brushed his sword, its aura fierce, yet he appeared as a genteel nobleman—such contradiction.

"Our lord has the habit of hiding in women’s rooms at night. How scandalous," Xuexue’s voice was chillingly cold.

"Little Xue, you wrong me. I’m only thinking of your safety. Or do you want to repeat the disaster of Dan Ying?" Zuo Qiu Liye arched his brow.

His words gave Xuexue the illusion of being brainwashed.

"If you don’t let go of that hand, I’ll cut it off!" That hand vexed him greatly.

"Try it if you dare!" The intruder snorted, fearless and unwavering.

With that, he leaped out the window with Xuexue in his arms, a paper umbrella unfurling to shield them from the rain.

His body was cold, like the night rain itself, devoid of warmth. Pressed close, she felt a familiar hardness through his clothes, like the clay figures she once crafted.

She knew why: Lingyin was the clay man she had created—the most refined of them all.

It had been almost a year ago, when she first arrived in the Yu Kingdom, accepting her fate in this ancient world. At that time, Ji Kingdom and Yu Kingdom were at war, so she made a clay man to spy on military affairs. Before Yu Kingdom fell, Lingyin suddenly vanished, and she had thought him lost.

"Where do you think you’re going!" A dozen attendants gave chase, each highly skilled.

"Master, take the umbrella."

Lingyin calmly faced the encirclement, swiftly handing Xuexue the umbrella before drawing his sword.

Spinning, spinning…

That was what she felt—a strange sensation. Not a drop of rain touched her, not even her feet. Yet Lingyin was soaked through.

There was no bloodshed; Lingyin’s swordplay was precise, never lethal. But for a moment, his opponents found an opening—a sharp blade stabbed his arm. No blood or flesh was harmed; only his clothing was torn.

The crowd was shocked, speechless. By the time they regained their senses, Xuexue and Lingyin had vanished.

"Master, it was my failure to let him escape," the attendants knelt in the rain, begging for punishment.

The rain’s sound grew faint, softer.

"You were right—he’s very strange," Zuo Qiu Liye stood beneath the umbrella, his expression cold. He had underestimated that young man.

"My lord, Elder Jin has arrived."