Chapter 7: The Shoulder Kiss in the Ice Chamber

After leaving the stone chamber, Cui Wangshu carried Jiang Chenbi into a hidden small stone room.

In truth, she hadn’t paid any attention to the route while fleeing. The Corpse Demon had been too fast, so she could only flee desperately, stumbling into this stone room by sheer luck.

Now that she had time to examine the room, Cui Wangshu felt that perhaps it was fate—they weren’t meant to die here.

This stone room must have been where Mo Jiuhuan and Liu Xuan had conducted some kind of human experimentation in the past. It contained precise blades and Fish Intestine Threads, all soaked in mysterious liquids.

In the center stood a massive Ice Bed, emanating waves of chill. Glass vials held visible human organs, and perhaps the Corpse Demon outside was a stitched-together product born from this place.

Cui Wangshu placed Jiang Chenbi on the Ice Bed, and only then did the excruciating pain from the wound on her shoulder hit her.

Cui Wangshu frowned, suddenly tempted to yank the arrowhead out raw, as if even more intense pain could help her shake off her current agitation.

She took a deep breath and looked down at Jiang Chenbi. This face of hers… was strangely captivating.

A pair of fox-like eyes that bewitched the soul, with upturned corners and a tiny mole on the eyelid of her left eye.

Her overly long lashes often brushed against her eyes, giving her gaze a perpetually moist sheen, with faint redness at the corners as if she’d just been crying.

Her lips were ruby red, her teeth like pearls, her black hair stark against snow-pale skin.

Yet strangely, her eyebrows looked fine when neutral, but when she smiled, the ends drooped, combining with Jiang Chenbi’s bold and unrestrained grin to create an odd sensation.

It was as if she were a natural dominator, bestowing a smile upon inferiors for their flattery, yet laced with intense dissatisfaction from incomplete control.

Cui Wangshu raised her hand and gently traced Jiang Chenbi’s brows and eyes.

She thought to herself, strange looks, strange personality—Jiang Chenbi really was a very strange woman. Was that why she felt this unfamiliar, odd sensation toward her?

“Cui Shangshu, your breathing is interfering with my sound wave judgment.”

The woman spoke without warning, startling Cui Wangshu into a tremble. She quickly withdrew her hand and stammered, “You… when did you wake up? You didn’t make a sound.”

Jiang Chenbi opened her weary eyes, a hint of amusement in them. “Wasn’t it because Little Cui was so entranced watching me that you didn’t notice?”

Meeting those eyes, Cui Wangshu’s throat went dry. She licked her lips, unsure how to retort.

Jiang Chenbi smiled and propped herself up despite the strain, surveying the room’s furnishings. “Looks like we’re not fated to die. Even Mo Jiuhuan prepared a healing spot for us.”

Cui Wangshu glanced at the knives on the stone table. “Good thing you’re awake. The wounds from the bone-etching acid on you need to be cut out, or your bones will dissolve.”

Jiang Chenbi chuckled. “Still got time to worry about me? What about your arm—don’t you want it anymore? Let me get that arrowhead out first. The tools here are quite complete.”

Cui Wangshu frowned in disagreement, but Jiang Chenbi shut her down with one line: “Unless Little Cui is so fond of me that you’re this eager for my safety.”

Cui Wangshu’s silence was within Jiang Chenbi’s expectations. Without anesthetic, the strain on the heart was immense—removing the arrowhead alive was no different from scraping bone to heal poison.

Cui Wangshu said nothing, letting cold sweat soak her hair tips, her face pale as her body convulsed in pain without a single groan.

Jiang Chenbi teased, “Little Cui really knows how to endure. No wonder that day with the Love Gu flaring up, you’d rather die in pain than beg for mercy.”

Fortunately, Jiang Chenbi’s knife work was skilled, sparing Cui Wangshu extra suffering. After suturing the wound with Fish Intestine Thread and applying Hemostatic Powder, she wrapped it in gauze.

Cui Wangshu blinked weakly, her voice hoarse when she spoke: “I’ll cut yours.”

Jiang Chenbi laughed. “Rest first. You can handle whatever I miss.”

With that, Jiang Chenbi shed her clothes. Her back bore multiple wounds corroded by acid, oozing blood, along with old scars—whip marks, knife wounds, arrow scars—covering nearly her entire back.

Jiang Chenbi was beautiful, and so was her back.

But now it was marred by scars, stirring complex emotions in Cui Wangshu. She didn’t know what Jiang Chenbi had endured in the past.

She didn’t find the scarred back ugly; it looked more like a medal, proclaiming how strong and resilient the woman before her truly was.

Most wounds clustered on her back, making it hard for Jiang Chenbi to excise the rotten flesh herself, but she tried anyway.

Suddenly, a cool, soft touch landed on her shoulder. Jiang Chenbi’s eyes fluttered open, her body tensing and trembling lightly.

“I’ll do it.”

Cui Wangshu’s hoarse voice carried her rare heartache. She took the small knife from Jiang Chenbi’s hand and gently scraped away the edged rot.

The stone room was utterly quiet. Cui Wangshu could endure, and Jiang Chenbi even more so. Until all the rotten flesh was removed, neither spoke another word.

Just as Cui Wangshu never asked about the origins of her scars, Jiang Chenbi never inquired about Cui Wangshu’s.

Or about that kiss laced with heartache that had landed on her shoulder.

An eerie ambiguity permeated the ice chamber. Neither spoke, as if desperately holding back from saying or doing something wrong in this atmosphere.

After tending the external wounds, Jiang Chenbi finally pulled out all her “treasures”—powders, potions, explosives, gauze, and more, piling them up.

Cui Wangshu’s mouth twitched. “So many things—where do you even hide them?”

Jiang Chenbi touched her nose. “No idea. Guess they all fit somehow.”

Cui Wangshu: “…”

Jiang Chenbi’s interruption dispelled the weird atmosphere, returning them to their familiar dynamic of tacit understanding laced with wariness.

Jiang Chenbi took out two pills and handed one to Cui Wangshu. “Fasting Pills. We have no food, and we don’t know how long we’ll be stuck. At least this won’t let us starve in the Imperial Mausoleum.”

Using fungal spores from the room and her own borneol and musk, Jiang Chenbi mixed a simple powder. Lit, it eased the neural pain from the Bianzhong’s sound waves.

Cui Wangshu asked, “What about your internal injuries?”

As she lit the powder, Jiang Chenbi replied, “I just took a Soul Preserving Pill—it should ease them some. If we get out, I’ll recover slowly. Though healed or not probably won’t make much difference.”

Seeing Jiang Chenbi’s pained expression, Cui Wangshu raised a brow. “That expensive?”

Jiang Chenbi looked heartbroken. “Of course. A real Soul Preserving Pill is worth a city—revives even the gravely wounded. Mine’s diluted, not as potent, but enough to keep me clinging to life.”

Cui Wangshu hummed and said no more.

After resting a few hours and regaining some energy, they left the stone room.

A tendon or bone injury needed a hundred days, so logically they should rest at least three, but trapped underground for who knew how long, they had to hurry and find an exit.

Jiang Chenbi scavenged some rare herbs from the room, thrilling her so much her back wounds barely ached.

She had no idea how Cui Wangshu had navigated; after exiting, they wandered half a day without finding the original path.

Cui Wangshu had realized earlier that the Imperial Mausoleum’s interior was a Mirror Underground Palace—enter a sub-chamber, and you’d never escape.

Back at the starting point again, Cui Wangshu’s face cooled. She crouched in a corner, calculating the way out with Divination Chips.

Jiang Chenbi tugged her lips. “Cui Shangshu, your world-calculating Divination Chips seem to be failing.”

Cui Wangshu didn’t reply. In her panic, she’d forgotten about the Mirror Underground Palace.

But fortune and misfortune intertwined—perhaps that’s why the Corpse Demon was trapped inside, giving them time to heal safely.

Finally, Cui Wangshu stood and pointed southwest. “This way.”

Jiang Chenbi followed. She trusted Cui Wangshu, but after two wrong turns, they relied on the chips to find the right exit.

Cui Shangshu’s frustrated look was as delightful as ever. Jiang Chenbi secretly curved her lips.

As they approached a junction ahead, Cui Wangshu halted.

Jiang Chenbi instinctively lightened her breathing, her eyes questioning. Cui Wangshu frowned silently, crouching low to peek a few meters ahead before quickly retreating.

After a moment, she said, “That thing’s dead.”

Jiang Chenbi paused before realizing what “that thing” meant.

She pursed her lips and went to the junction. The grotesque Corpse Demon lay in shreds, its blood and flesh splattered across the stone room’s walls, floor, and Bianzhong.

The yellowish-green corpse oil reeked; the body seemed torn apart from within by immense force. The pitiful heart hung on a Bianzhong, stilled.

Cui Wangshu lowered her gaze. “If we hadn’t drawn that Sonar Map, we’d be sacrifices to the Bianzhong by now.”

The Bianzhong, centuries old yet vividly colored, grew even more lurid after the Corpse Demon’s blood, exuding a eerie beauty.

Jiang Chenbi inhaled. “One hurdle after another—we’ve passed them all. Don’t overthink. We’ve still got to go. Or does Cui Shangshu not want to leave?”

Cui Wangshu stood. “Let’s go.”

They walked about half a shichen, nearly lost in the corridor. Cui Wangshu simply calculated each step with the chips, finally reaching the largest Accompanying Burial Pit in the underground palace.

Standing at the entrance, they felt the same insignificance as when first seeing the Imperial Mausoleum. The pit occupied nearly half its area.

Hundreds of infantry terracotta figures stood in orderly battle formation, endless cavalry stretching behind, with only vague outlines of tall horses visible.

Each terracotta’s crown was wrapped in massive purplish-red flowers with gaping maws, crimson stamens pulsing with breaths that spewed blood-red spore mist, shrouding the burial figures.

The thick stench mixed with a bizarre fragrance induced hallucinations.

They exchanged glances, seeing despair in each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, Jiang Chenbi burst out laughing. “You always look like this. Which dead end on our path hasn’t turned into a lucky break? This one’s just more upfront than those deceptively calm traps.”

Cui Wangshu sneered. “Indeed more direct. The whole Accompanying Burial Pit screams two words—’go die.'”

Jiang Chenbi laughed while pulling Cui Wangshu to crouch, pointing at the purplish-red flower on the nearest terracotta. “Do you recognize that thing?”

Cui Wangshu’s face hardened, her voice laced with disgust as she enunciated, “Corpse Fragrance Devil Taro.”