Chapter 19

Yu Zhengzheng ’s first thought was that this inn might be a black market den. Fighting back tears, she struggled slightly. Could this man be a flower thief?  

If the man lacked martial arts skills, she could probably handle one or two, but right now, lying under the quilt without anything on, a fight would surely leave her exposed.  

She bit her lip hard, clamping her legs together as she discreetly shifted backward. When her foot brushed against the cool fabric of his clothes, she bent her knees slightly and aimed a sharp kick toward the man’s vulnerable area.  

Her movements were precise and ruthless, but his reflexes were astonishing. With a single lift of his leg, he pinned her feet in place, rendering her struggles futile.  

Unable to break free, she resorted to a last-ditch effort, opening her mouth to scream with all her might:  

“Help—”  

Before she could finish, a familiar voice came from behind her. The man bit her shoulder, growling, “Shut up.”  

Yu Zhengzheng : “…”  

Pain radiated from her shoulder as his teeth pressed into her soft skin, leaving a faint red mark. She gasped in pain, tears welling up in her eyes but not daring to make another sound.  

A hurried knock sounded at the door, and Xiao Yuqing called out in a low, concerned voice:  

“Miss Yun, are you all right?”  

Yu Zhengzheng  desperately wanted to tell him that there was a devil lying behind her, straight out of hell. But she dared not utter a word, fearing her head would meet the same fate as the madam’s earlier that night.  

Taking a deep breath, she stifled the sob in her throat and said as calmly as she could, “I’m fine.”  

Xiao Yuqing hesitated. “But I heard you calling for help just now.”  

Just as she was about to make an excuse, she felt something cool and soft brush against the back of her neck.  

Through the thin quilt, a slender arm rested on her waist, the cold, bony hand slowly moving upward, sending a chill down her spine as it reached its destination.  

Xiao Yuqing’s voice came again from outside: “Miss Yun, why aren’t you saying anything?”  

Behind her, Rong Shang chuckled softly, mimicking his tone with mock tenderness, “Miss Yun, why aren’t you saying anything?”  

Yu Zhengzheng  was filled with the urge to slap him. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Did he not know?  

Sensing something amiss, Xiao Yuqing prepared to kick down the door, but before he could, Yu Zhengzheng  spoke, her tone apologetic:  

“I just had a nightmare. Did I disturb you?”  

Xiao Yuqing breathed a sigh of relief. “No, I hadn’t gone to bed yet.”  

The two fell silent for a moment. Then, in a gentle voice, he offered, “If you can’t sleep, how about going for a walk with me?”  

She hesitated, slightly tempted by the idea.  

A quiet, rainy night, a cobblestone path, the two of them sharing an oiled-paper umbrella—this was the perfect setup for a romantic moment.  

She could already imagine Xiao Yuqing getting caught up in the atmosphere, perhaps sharing a secret from the depths of his heart. That secret would bind them closer, creating a special connection only they shared.  

The timing was right. All that was missing was the opportunity.  

Yu Zhengzheng  tilted her head pitifully and whispered tentatively, “He’s asking me to go out. What should I do?”  

The man behind her rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips brushing against her earlobe as he breathed warm air into her ear, making her shiver almost imperceptibly.  

Rong Shang tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her back slightly as he whispered near her ear, his voice dangerously low and playful:  

“Why don’t you go and try?”  

He added with a smirk, “You’re mine.”  

Yu Zhengzheng  froze, her heart skipping a beat.  

Was he… jealous?  

Rong Shang continued, “So is he.”  

Yu Zhengzheng : “…”  

He issued his command: “So, I forbid you to go.”  

She felt like she had swallowed a fly. After a long moment, she forced out a reply, “It’s raining outside. Brother Xiao, you should get some rest.”  

Xiao Yuqing, sensing her refusal, didn’t push further. He simply reminded her to keep warm before leaving.  

Yu Zhengzheng ’s eyes reddened. She had been single for nearly forty years across her two lifetimes. Finally, she had the chance to develop something with a charming man, perhaps even stealing a kiss in the moonlight, but it had all been ruined by this infernal ghost king.  

Moonlight peeked through the clouds, and rain pattered gently on the leaves outside the window. The soft sounds couldn’t mask the sob caught in her throat.  

Rong Shang, catching the faint scent of her hair, murmured, “Why are you crying?”  

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she tried to suppress her emotions. “I’m not crying.”  

Rong Shang: “You are.”  

Yu Zhengzheng : “I’m not.”  

Rong Shang: “Liars have their tongues cut out.”  

Yu Zhengzheng : “… Fine, I’m crying.”  

Rong Shang: “You’re not allowed to cry.”  

Yu Zhengzheng : “…”  

His breath was hot, his voice hoarse, almost like a tender murmur, but laced with an unyielding edge.  

“You’re not allowed to cry,” he repeated, his tone commanding.  

The room fell silent again. Tentatively, she turned around, her gaze falling on his pale and weak face in the dim light.  

The faint glow of the moon cast a gentle light over his figure. His long, dark hair fell like silk, his eyes tightly shut, and his brows furrowed slightly. A faint flush colored his cheeks, and his expression hinted at pain.  

Listening to the rain outside, she held her breath and hesitated before tremblingly reaching out a hand to touch the space between his brows.  

She suspected he was having a nightmare again.  

As her fingertips brushed against his brow, his eyes snapped open, fierce and full of intensity. “The night I killed her, it rained over the East Sea too,” he murmured.  

Yu Zhengzheng ’s hand froze against his burning forehead.  

He was feverish and seemed to be rambling.  

His dark eyes were filled with ridicule as he continued, “She knelt like a slave, crying and begging me not to kill her husband.”  

Not knowing whether he was lucid or not, she cautiously replied, “That’s all in the past.”  

His lips curled in a cold smile, the moonlight failing to illuminate his face. “It hasn’t passed.”  

“Do you want to kill me?” he whispered.  

Yu Zhengzheng  lied through her teeth: “No.”  

Of course, she did. She wanted nothing more than to split his head open and see if it was full of fertilizer.  

He ruined her ability to cultivate, left her isolated on Mount Penglai for over a decade, and caused her to lose her closest family—her mother.  

Though it was her father, the heartless scoundrel who sought enlightenment by killing his wife, the real culprit was him. Her mother, a wood-spirit cultivator in the Great Perfection Stage, was just one step away from ascension.  

If not for his dragon-slaying that devastated the cultivation world, leaving it barren, her mother wouldn’t have been weakened enough to be slain by a mere Nascent Soul-stage trash.  

She was transmigrated into this body, inheriting all the original owner’s grievances, and had endured every ounce of suffering as if it were her own. No one knew how she survived such a nightmarish childhood.  

Without her mother by her side, she narrowly escaped death countless times at the hands of Madam Lu.  

And now, he—burnt out of his wits—had the audacity to ask her such a ridiculously foolish question.  

Ask anyone across the Six Realms: who wouldn’t want to grind him to dust?  

Clearly, even he didn’t believe her response.  

He pulled a dagger from somewhere and tossed it onto her pillow. “During thunderstorms, I have no divine powers.”  

Swearing by the name of a god, he added, “I vow on my divine honor that my words are true.”  

Yu Zhengzheng was stunned. Images of him collapsing in the Hall of Luan, nearly frozen into an ice sculpture, flickered in her mind.  

To swear by the name of a god was the most binding oath for the deities. Even a fallen god was still shackled by it.  

For him to make such a vow meant he wasn’t lying.  

The moonlight gleamed coldly off the blade of the dagger. She turned her head, staring blankly at it as the pains of her past flashed vividly before her eyes.  

His voice turned soft, almost coaxing: “Pick it up, and you can kill me.”  

The devil’s whisper was like a spell laced with poison, compelling her hand to lift on its own.  

A shadow of malice flickered in his pitch-black eyes.  

She was no different from everyone else—they all wanted him dead.  

In his pale, cold palm, frost began to condense into a three-inch icicle.  

The moment she picked up the dagger, he would drive the ice shard through her heart.  

But instead, she shifted her body slightly and let her hand fall to his waist. Nestling her head against his neck, she murmured softly, “I’m tired.”  

He froze. In his arms lay a soft and warm figure, her hair carrying a faintly refreshing scent that was delicate and pleasant.  

She seemed genuinely exhausted, and moments later, her steady breathing reached his ears.  

After a pause, he discarded the ice shard in his hand. The crystalline sound of it hitting the ground broke the stillness. Inhaling the mild fragrance from her soap, he drifted off to sleep.  

Hearing the sound of the shard hitting the ground, Yu Zhengzheng exhaled quietly, her tension dissolving.  

He had scared her out of her wits. If she hadn’t caught the reflection of the ice shard in his hand through the dagger’s blade, she might’ve died on the spot.  

Swearing by divine honor? Claiming he had no powers during thunderstorms? Nonsense! He was clearly playing word games. The day in the Hall of Luan had indeed been stormy, but today it was merely raining without thunder.  

The rain continued to patter outside. Resting her head on his searing chest, she finally began to feel drowsy.  

By the time she woke the next day, the man beside her had vanished. The only thing left was the plump hen lazily perched atop her mess of bedhead.  

Yawning, Yu Zhengzheng grabbed the chicken, climbed out of bed, and changed into her undergarments and white robe.  

As usual, she watered the spiritual herb she had taken out. The plant looked just as weak as before, still resembling a malnourished sprout.  

Outside, Xiao Yuqing’s warm voice called out, “Miss Yu, breakfast is ready.”  

Yu Zhengzheng tucked away the herb, tied up her long hair to cover a bald spot on her scalp, and went downstairs, holding the hen.  

Before reaching the dining hall, she paused at the staircase landing and caught sight of a familiar white figure.  

Today, he hadn’t tied his hair up. Three thousand strands of black silk cascaded down his back, held together only by a red ribbon. His pale fingers tapped idly on a black porcelain teacup, accentuating his snow-white skin.  

Ignoring his ordinary face, one might mistake him for a celestial being descended from the heavens.  

Despite sitting alone at a table, his presence was so oppressive that even those at a table away from him sat rigidly, not daring to breathe loudly.  

The hall was meant for breakfast, but no one dared to touch their food. Out of courtesy, Yu Zhengzheng greeted him, “Good morning, Ghost King.”  

He glanced lazily at her and smirked. “Call me Dad.”  

Yu Zhengzheng: “…”  

Moments later, Shan Shui dashed in, waving a proclamation in hand. “The authorities have issued a notice! They’re offering a reward to find Miss Yu Zhengzheng!”  

Yu Zhengzheng was startled. She took the notice from Shan Shui and saw a rough sketch of a cloth shoe. Below it, bold script declared:  

“Whoever fits this shoe shall become Nangong Tianba’s one-hundredth bride.”  

Xiao Yuqing pondered aloud, “This might be an opportunity to get close to Nangong Tianba.”  

Yu Zhengzheng’s brother gloated, “Elder sister must be willing to make some sacrifices for the family heirloom.”  

Yu Zhengzheng didn’t deny it. She couldn’t escape under the Ghost King’s watchful eye. For now, she had to feign cooperation.  

With the selection four days away and no chance of fleeing, her fate seemed sealed in the Ghost Sect.  

Lost in thought, she missed a step on the stairs and nearly tumbled.  

Fortunately, Xiao Yuqing caught her in time, preventing her fall.  

Though she avoided a tumble, her ankle twisted. A swollen lump rose almost instantly at her heel, forcing her to limp forward.  

The shoe-fitting was held at the town square, a place once reserved for executions but now crowded with onlookers.  

Though the promise of wealth and glory tempted many, few dared to approach.  

Yu Zhengzheng pushed through the crowd, waved at Nangong Tianba, and declared, “No need to look further. I’m the one you’re seeking.”  

Sitting atop the platform, Nangong Tianba narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”  

Yu Zhengzheng: “…”  

She patiently explained, “This shoe belongs to me.”  

He smirked coldly. “Oh, a vain woman trying to seduce me?”  

The steward presented the shoe and gestured for her to try it on. Yu Zhengzheng braced herself, but with her swollen ankle, the shoe wouldn’t fit.  

Frustrated, she exclaimed, “It really is my shoe!”  

Nangong Tianba ignored her protests and turned to Yu Zhengzheng’s brother. “You try.”  

Reluctantly, Yu Zhengzheng’s brother attempted to put it on, but his foot was too big.  

Finally, Nangong Tianba scanned the crowd before his gaze landed on a figure in white.  

Walking over, he tilted his chin up and said, “Your turn.”  

The Ghost King glanced at him, casually fiddling with a sandalwood prayer bead.  

Unfazed, Nangong Tianba grabbed his chin and sneered, “Trying to provoke me? Well, you’ve succeeded.”  

The Ghost King chuckled softly. “Kid, do you have a death wish?”  

Nangong Tianba smirked, leaning closer to his lips. “Don’t call me ‘kid.’ Call me Daddy.”