She raised her arm to touch Feng Yun’ai’s face, pressing down lightly on the eyelid of one of her grey eyes. She traced the contours of her face with her gaze. “Yin Wulu is famous for his evil. Your biological mother never killed with her own hands, but she was no less wicked. I imagine your looks were inherited from her.”
Feng Yun’ai kept her lips pressed thin, feeling the hand on her eyelid slide slowly downward. Sang Chencao’s fingertips were warm; had they been cold, they would have felt exactly like a snake sliding across her skin.
It was only before Feng Rong’s death that Feng Yun’ai had learned of her heritage. Before that, though she had seen Yin Wulu’s name in books, she never expected to have such a deep connection to him.
She had read records regarding Yin Wulu and knew his partner was named Qiu Xianpei.
Qiu Xianpei was also a formidable figure. Her beauty was said to be unrivaled in the Borderlands, and her cruelty was equally legendary. Within the Sun Chasing Cult, she ranked above the Four Envoys, sharing equal fame with Yin Wulu. However, she didn’t hold the title of Cult Leader; instead, she was the “Saint God,” a figure to whom everyone offered daily worship.
The Jianghu Records stated that Qiu Xianpei’s techniques specialized in enchanting the human mind, allowing her to drive others to serve her. She wielded a Forged Gold Whip. If anyone disobeyed, she would immediately strike, flogging them until they submitted. She never personally killed anyone; she only tortured them until they wished for death.
“They say Qiu Xianpei was like a demon enchantress, though you are likely different from her. When your face is expressionless, Xiuxiu, you look so very cold.” Sang Chencao lightly pinched the other woman’s chin. “A pity Qiu Xianpei died long ago. There are very few portraits of her in the Central Plains, so I have no idea how much you actually resemble her.”
Feng Yun’ai slapped the wandering hand away. Her voice was icy. “If I must step onto that stage, I will achieve my goal. There is no need for me to remove the Eye veil. And as for you—why do you care how much I look like her?”
“I’m merely curious. And as for whether you look like her… isn’t that just me worrying for your safety?” Sang Chencao retracted her hand with a smirk.
Feng Yun’ai ignored the comment entirely. If this woman truly worried for her, she wouldn’t even have these thoughts.
“As we keep going, Cloud City isn’t far. We should plan ahead,” Sang Chencao said with feigned kindness. She set the sword hilt on the grass and carefully retied the Eye veil for her companion.
Having done it several times now, she was practiced at it, even managing to tie a quite beautiful knot.
Feng Yun’ai held her breath, her peripheral vision darting toward the woman’s wrist. Unfortunately, the snake was completely hidden beneath the sleeve, nowhere to be seen.
“Xiuxiu,” the indigo-clothed woman said, her voice dripping with affection.
After days of being together, Feng Yun’ai knew that this so-called warmth and tenderness were entirely fake. She looked at her coldly through the veil.
“I only know your nickname is Xiuxiu. I still don’t know the name Feng Rong gave you,” Sang Chencao said slowly. “We’ve shared hardships together, and there’s plenty more bitterness to swallow in the future. Why won’t you even tell me your real name?”
Feng Yun’ai replied coldly, “If you aren’t honest first, why should I treat you with courtesy?”
Sang Chencao laughed. Previously, she was certain that a few sweet words would have the woman in white spilling everything. Now, however, the woman was jumpy and suspicious—not so easy to fool.
Feng Yun’ai’s expression was guarded, viewing Sang Chencao as one would a tiger or a wolf.
In truth, it was just a name. In this world, only the deceased Feng Rong had known it. Even if the name were leaked, no one would understand its significance.
“So you wanted to know my name? Why didn’t you just ask? It’s not like I’d hide it. There was no need to beat around the bush like that,” Sang Chencao said, twisting the truth with practiced ease.
Feng Yun’ai started to speak, then stopped. That wasn’t what she meant at all, but the other woman’s air of being in the right left her unsure of how to respond. “I didn’t…”
“Fine, it’s no trouble to tell you.” Sang Chencao leaned in unhurriedly, her breath tickling Feng Yun’ai’s ear like a snake’s flicking tongue.
Feng Yun’ai wondered how much of what was about to be said was actually true.
Sang Chencao said casually, “My surname is Sang, and my given name is Chencao. My mother gave birth to me in the water. I was like a blade of grass sinking into the depths, hence the name Sunken Grass.”
Her voice slowed, losing its teasing edge and gaining a hint of solemnity. It seemed…
Like the truth?
Sang Chencao laughed after finishing, raising an eyebrow. “And you, Xiuxiu?”
Again, she spoke with such tenderness, as if she were deeply affectionate.
It was likely because the woman’s breath was too hot, making Feng Yun’ai’s ear feel uncomfortable. She tilted her head away, contemplating for a moment before answering. “Feng Yun’ai.”
“Oh?” Sang Chencao’s eyes filled with interest. “Which ‘Yun’, and which ‘Ai’?”
Feng Yun’ai answered reluctantly, “I heard the weather wasn’t good the day I was born. The rain wept and the clouds grieved.”
A warm fingertip pressed against her Brow Center, lifting slightly.
Sang Chencao smiled with casual arrogance. “It seems Feng Rong didn’t have much hope for you. Why give you such a melancholy name? It’s made you such a gloomy, unlikeable person.”
Feng Yun’ai slapped the hand away. “And are you likeable?”
Sang Chencao sat back, muttering to herself, “Xiuxiu still sounds better. Don’t you agree, Xiuxiu?”
Feng Yun’ai ignored her.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Sang Chencao finally released the Flexible sword. After mounting her horse, she patted the saddle and called out, “Xiuxiu, get on.”
Feng Yun’ai sat still for a moment, secretly pressing a hand to the side of her neck. To her surprise, her fingers met only smooth skin. Stunned, she rubbed the area for a long time, but she couldn’t find even a hint of a wound.
“Why are you dazing off?” Sang Chencao asked from atop the horse.
Feng Yun’ai looked up, still a bit dazed. She couldn’t help but wonder: Was being bitten by the snake last night just a dream?
No, that was impossible. It must be that the bite healed incredibly fast, leaving no scar behind. It was likely for this very reason that she never knew when the woman had poisoned her with the Gu in the first place.
She stared expressionlessly at Sang Chencao for a moment before finally vaulting onto the horse. As she did, she caught a glimpse of a small, black tail-tip slipping back into the other woman’s sleeve.
