Chapter 34

“Congratulations, Host! During this free activity period, you have obtained the hidden item [Spring Mountain Void] and unlocked a new character [Bai Zheng]. Combining the above factors, the System will grant you an additional 24 hours of lifespan as a reward.”

“A new quest will be issued tomorrow. Please continue to work hard, Host!”

Xiao Jin: “…”

Twenty-four hours of lifespan could not even begin to compensate for the damage done by 12 hours of the Clamping Voice.

Thankfully, it was late at night, and the Clamping Voice’s duration had finally expired.

Xiao Jin didn’t know if the System could sleep, but she definitely couldn’t. She might as well go to the study and use the nighttime mental clarity to sort out her thoughts.

Sitting at the desk, she lifted the lid of the Spring Mountain Void box and took out a single fragrance pill.

Then Xiao Jin placed the pill into the censer, quietly watching the wisps of smoke rise from the lid and swirl among the paper, ink, brush, and inkstone.

The fragrance, though light and pleasant, gave Xiao Jin a headache the moment she recalled Bai Zheng’s words at the Misty Rain Pavilion.

Thinking this, she looked toward Manager Zhang, who stood at the side, and asked: “Old Zhang, did This Prince once save Minister Bai’s daughter?”

Late at night, Manager Zhang’s drowsiness had already hit him, his upper and lower eyelids about to glue shut.

Hearing Xiao Jin’s question, he hastily summoned twelve parts of spirit and replied: “In response to Your Highness, there is indeed such a matter. But that is already an old affair from many years ago.”

Clearly, the original host’s persona of a noble too busy to remember trifles was deeply ingrained. Even if Xiao Jin asked such a question now, Old Zhang wouldn’t find it strange at all.

Xiao Jin closed the lid of Spring Mountain Void and casually told Old Zhang: “Tell me about it.”

Although Manager Zhang found it a bit odd, wondering why His Highness was suddenly interested in Miss Bai, he still obeyed the order and began recounting.

This recounting took quite a while.

Listening on the side, Xiao Jin’s hands didn’t stop searching for that book she’d been reading a few days ago.

From observing Su Tan’s reaction, she had sensed that the poison “Endless Sorrow” seemed to be a Gu poison unknown to most.

But when reading a few days prior, she had found a book that detailed the three stages of “Endless Sorrow’s” poison activation. Now it seemed that book must hold significant clues.

Yet by the time Old Zhang finished the story about Bai Zheng, Xiao Jin still hadn’t found the book she’d misplaced somewhere.

After listening, she couldn’t help pressing a finger to her temple.

She was vexed by the love-hate entanglements between Bai Zheng and the original host, and simultaneously wondered: how could such a large book just vanish like that?

Fortunately, she would only stay in this book world for a year; there was no need to worry excessively. But who’d have thought that after one trip to the Misty Rain Pavilion, the situation would become even more complicated.

Xiao Jin mulled it over and concluded that the things requiring her utmost attention right now were still the original host’s overly suspicious severe illness, the mastermind behind the assassination, and…

The reason for Chu Shao’s character collapse.

Recalling the look in Chu Shao’s eyes when she gazed at that colorful lantern, Xiao Jin stopped rubbing her temple and asked Manager Zhang a question: “Old Zhang, is there anyone in the manor who can make lanterns?”

Manager Zhang froze. Only after a moment did he carefully ask: “This… Is Your Highness talking about… the kind of lantern this old servant is thinking of?”

“…”

Xiao Jin: “What else? What kind do you think?”

Manager Zhang truly hadn’t expected that one day His Highness would ask such a question. After all, regarding things like lanterns, His Highness hadn’t brought them up in the past—he had simply never cared at all.

As expected, ever since getting married, His Highness really has changed.

A gratified smile appeared on Manager Zhang’s face. He was about to answer when he saw Xiao Jin frown, move her lips, seeming to want to say something.

He was very good at reading expressions. He immediately shut his mouth and waited for his master to speak.

Unexpectedly, after a moment, Xiao Jin’s expression returned to normal.

In the end, she didn’t say anything more. She just turned her head aside and said flatly: “Forget it. We’ll talk later.”

Whether it was Manager Zhang’s imagination or not, under the candlelight, he felt Xiao Jin’s lips had pressed into a thin line, and the way she turned her head looked unnatural no matter what.

However, the gesture she used to dismiss him was extremely natural. With a mere wave of her hand, she said: “It is late. Withdraw.”

“Yes.”

…

The next morning when Xiao Jin awoke, her head was pounding fiercely.

Because last night she’d searched for ages but still couldn’t find that book. Frustrated, she couldn’t figure out why she’d asked Old Zhang if there were lantern-makers in the manor.

And even if Prince Yan’s Manor did have craftsmen, it had nothing to do with her.

There were too many things Xiao Jin couldn’t figure out.

To calm her mind, she randomly pulled a volume from the shelf and flipped through another book that recorded the history of Qi.

Ancient prose and traditional characters were already obscure enough, and without any translation, the sleep-inducing effect was maximum.

After struggling through just over ten pages, Xiao Jin felt like she’d time-traveled back to the compulsory education era. The mere thought of her teachers’ kind faces made drowsiness surge.

So she blew out the lamp, used her elbow as a pillow, and collapsed onto the desk to sleep.

At first, the scenes in her dream were completely normal.

The capital in spring had much rain, threads of it endless and unbroken. The drifting willow catkins were even more annoying, piling up like fine snow on the roof tiles of Goat Horn Alley.

Then the scene suddenly shifted.

The pipa sounded, its melody sharp with tension. Following layers of heavy mist forward, the dream led her to the deepest chamber of the Misty Rain Pavilion.

The chamber was dark and lightless, only the faint strains of a song of Everlasting Longing drifting up from below.

Xiao Jin was in the dream, unaware it was a dream.

Placed in boundless darkness, she tentatively reached out a hand to grab to the side, but caught nothing.

She reached up to touch her face but felt the layer of silk gauze covering her eyes, a slippery sensation as cool as mermaid scales.

Xiao Jin fell silent.

Because this scene was eerily familiar, even making her somewhat unable to distinguish whether this was reality or a dream.

Just as she thought this, another hand suddenly reached out from the darkness and gently held hers. That hand was warm and smooth, the force gripping her wrist also all too familiar.

Xiao Jin almost froze.

No way.

Even for a dream, this is too ridiculous.

Xiao Jin fell into silence, but the person before her did not stop their movements.

In the darkness, the sound of tearing silk arose faintly.

That person tore a strip of gauze from the hibiscus bed curtains, brought Xiao Jin’s two wrists together, and wound them several times around. Only when her hands could not move did the winding stop.

Surrounded by darkness, Xiao Jin coughed a few times.

Though she could probably guess who the other was by now, she still asked in a hoarse voice: “Who?”

But no one answered her. The fragrance of Spring Mountain Void swirled in the chamber. Sitting in her wheelchair, Xiao Jin could clearly hear the breathing of another person.

Logically, she should feel fear.

But Xiao Jin vaguely sensed this was only a dream, so she didn’t overly concern herself with how things would develop. She simply relaxed her mindset and tried to open her eyes to see if she could wake up.

Yet the person in the darkness stretched out a hand, pinched her chin with a rather forceful attitude, and forced her to lift her head.

Just as Xiao Jin frowned, a warm, smooth fingertip pressed against her lips, lightly circling them.

The finger was like a delicate, icy key, prying open the locked door, squeezing past her teeth, and stuffing a fragrance pill into her mouth.

Xiao Jin wanted to struggle. But with her hands bound, she could only part her lips and let the pill enter her mouth.

While her chin was pinched by that hand, the person leaned down slightly and kissed her neck. Like kissing a dying swan, the other’s lips were incredibly soft—an exquisitely designed murder.

Xiao Jin’s chin ached from the grip. She felt that if the kiss were on her windpipe, she would have already suffocated.

Her back pressed tightly against the cold bamboo of the wheelchair. Under this dual pressure, she couldn’t breathe and was nearly suffocating.

The slightly bitter pill slipped down her tongue and into her throat, but because the other’s lips lingered at her neck, the pill reached her throat but moved no further, impossible to swallow.

The most agonizing part wasn’t the suffocation, but Xiao Jin’s knowledge that this pill likely encased a long, thin Gu worm.

Like the moist, lingering kisses on her neck, the Gu worm was taking root in her esophagus. And she had no way to evade, no strength to resist.

From the empty chamber, a gentle, elegant voice drifted over: “What is called Endless Sorrow is that before it enters the stomach, it has already severed the throat. Only thus can it sever an eternity of sorrow.”

When she opened her eyes again, Xiao Jin’s elbow ached, and cold sweat had beaded on her forehead.

Her throat was parched, as if she had swallowed the pill containing the Gu worm, making it feel itchy and creepy.

With the dream’s fading, this sensation should have lessened.

But when Xiao Jin saw the cold, dead ash in the censer, she suddenly recalled the sensation of a fingertip rubbing against her lips, and instantly, her entire being felt wrong.

She lowered her gaze to the faint red mark on her wrist and was silent for a long time.

Because yesterday at the Misty Rain Pavilion, her hands had been tied by Chu Shao, even finished with a dead knot. Although the ligature marks on her wrists had lightened now, they still hadn’t faded.

Xiao Jin was speechless and choked up. Suddenly, she had no idea what the nature of last night’s dream was.

Could it be… perversion is contagious?