Chapter 44: Half an Antidote, A Paper Kites Past Part 1

The two guards on the eaves had already been knocked unconscious, while the rest remained oblivious, lost in deep, rhythmic sleep.

Sang Chencao reached slowly into her robe and produced a half-spent stick of incense. It was charred at the tip, looking as though it had been used several times before.

Feng Yun’ai cast a sharp glance at it, suddenly grabbing the other woman’s hand. “What are you doing?” she asked coldly.

In her eyes, Sang Chencao was a habitual offender. Though perhaps not irredeemably evil, her actions always carried a hidden, lethal edge. This incense was certainly nothing good.

Sang Chencao let out a scoff. “There are over a dozen people atop this peak. If even one of them is faking sleep, we’ll be exposed instantly. Is Xiuxiu truly not afraid?”

Feng Yun’ai looked at the object in her hand and frowned. “What is it?”

“Just some knockout incense. It won’t kill anyone.” Sang Chencao moved toward the other side of the roof with a light, airy leap. She plucked a lantern hanging from the eaves, removed the cover, and used the flame to light the incense.

Feng Yun’ai immediately held her breath, terrified of inhaling the fumes. She pinched the corner of her sleeve and held it tentatively over her nose and mouth, remaining extremely cautious.

After lighting the incense, Sang Chencao reached back into her robes. One might have thought one stick wasn’t enough and that she intended to light another. Instead, when those slender fingers emerged after a moment of rummaging, they appeared to hold nothing at all.

Feng Yun’ai watched her with suspicion. Just as she was about to ask what she was doing, her hand—the one shielding her nose and mouth—was pulled down.

She didn’t dare speak. She could only press her lips tightly together, terrified that if she opened her mouth, she would wake up days later to find she had been drugged again. This woman had done such a thing before, after all.

Feng Yun’ai tilted her head back to avoid her, the moonlight spilling across her face. She was naturally expressionless, but now she looked even more distant and ethereal, like a celestial maiden descending to earth.

The woman currently wearing a disguise chuckled and opened her palm for Feng Yun’ai to see.

Her hand wasn’t actually empty; a single pill lay there. It was vermillion, looking somewhat like a restorative tonic or some other health-bolstering medicine. At the very least, it didn’t look like a lethal poison. In Feng Yun’ai’s experience, anything truly toxic in this woman’s hands usually tended toward a dark indigo hue.

To her surprise, the corners of Sang Chencao’s mouth curled upward as she pressed the pill against her own lips. Could it be… the antidote?

It made sense. Though Sang Chencao carried a thousand poisons, she also carried their cures. Back at Yellow Sand Cliff, she had been willing to feed an antidote to a horse rather than give a single one to a living person.

Feng Yun’ai’s expression darkened. She already had a suspicion: if this was the antidote, there was likely only one. She wasn’t angry; the medicine wasn’t hers to begin with. Whether others chose to give or withhold was not for her to criticize.

Sang Chencao was smiling brightly, but there wasn’t a trace of kindness in her eyes. In her other hand, she still held the incense, the wisps of smoke rising from the tip like the flexible sword coiled around her waist. It looked soft and yielding, yet it could claim a head with ease.

Sang Chencao didn’t swallow the pill immediately. Instead, she closed her fingers into a fist, gripping it tight. Her hand was like a hook, and the antidote was the bait.

Feng Yun’ai stared at her fixedly.

Sang Chencao narrowed her eyes. “If I only have one antidote, is Xiuxiu afraid?”

Feng Yun’ai was still holding her breath and couldn’t answer. She met the gaze with cold eyes, but even the tightest breath-holding has its limits. As the incense continued to burn, her lungs began to ache with fatigue.

Vaguely, she caught a whiff of a cold fragrance—faint, but mixed with a ghostly trace of something spicy.

A strange dizziness washed over her. The silhouette of the woman before her began to blur, and her already hazy vision turned into a muddled chaos.

“I am far too soft-hearted; I can’t bear to hear others beg me. Is Xiuxiu feeling unwell?” Sang Chencao chuckled, leaning in close. “How about it? Beg me just once?”

Feng Yun’ai kept her lips pressed shut, but when she glanced sideways at the woman, her gaze was no longer as sharp as before. She was exhausted, standing on the very edge of losing consciousness.

Suddenly, the “Lunar Immortal” had her eye veil snatched away, revealing a pair of ashen, clouded eyes. Those eyes, which should have been cold and distant, were now misty and fractured, like a pair of glass beads rolling toward the edge of a cliff.

Sang Chencao whispered a sudden “How pitiful” before finally popping the pill into her own mouth.

This was exactly what Feng Yun’ai had expected. She felt a pang of sadness. This woman claimed they were close, that they would advance and retreat together, yet here she was, leaving her to suffer while plotting against her.

The potency of the knockout incense grew stronger. Feng Yun’ai felt like a fallen leaf, ready to drop at the slightest breeze.

At that moment, Sang Chencao leaned in, her face so close that Feng Yun’ai had nowhere to hide.

Their lips met abruptly—a collision of clouds, so soft that Feng Yun’ai instantly lost her bearings. She stared with wide, panicked eyes, her previous stubbornness completely vanished.

The lips pressed against hers parted slightly. A sensation like a flickering snake slowly pried open her teeth, and then, half of the “pearl” that had been held in the other’s mouth was passed over.

It was the remaining half of the antidote.

Sang Chencao didn’t stop once the transfer was done. It was as if she were loath to give it up, repeatedly trying to sweep the half-pill back with her tongue, only to push it back again and again.

This was no different from being unable to breathe. Feng Yun’ai’s mind was a scattered mess. She had never been toyed with like this. She forgot how to inhale; it felt as though her very soul was being drawn out of her, her body sinking heavily.

Just as she was about to collapse, she frantically grabbed Sang Chencao’s sleeve. Her knuckles turned white from the force—she had never used such strength even when clashing swords.

Sang Chencao had no choice but to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her in flush against her body. Her snake-like eyes curved slightly as she finally pulled back a fraction of an inch. She let out a breathy laugh. “Is the medicine working?”