The entirety of Cloud City was shrouded in the shadow of the New Alliance. Hiding Feng Rong within the city limits would be no easy feat.
Feng Yun’ai had initially felt a chill down her spine hearing the plan, but now she simply felt that this woman was prone to flights of fancy.
She looked at Feng Rong in silence. She did not want Feng Rong to languish pitifully in some gutter or underground, but if they were to hide a corpse, there were only two ways: either hide it in the heavens or bury it in the earth.
Otherwise, Feng Rong would have to be left here, never to see the light of day again.
But Feng Rong was like the bright moon and the stars—how could she…
How could she be imprisoned in this dark room like mere dust? She ought to be like her swordplay: like drifting clouds and flowing water, proud and self-assured, transcending the material world.
“Is Xiuxiu dissatisfied with this plan? Then we won’t send Senior Feng to the Sword Discourse Stage. Taking her away from Listening Goose Peak alone is a fine outcome.” Sang Chencao’s voice was low, coaxing. “Once we’re down the mountain, you can let her rest in peace in the soil. That way, even if she truly does become a tree in the future, you will still be able to see her.”
“You—” Feng Yun’ai’s gray eyes widened slightly.
“I’m just giving you ideas.” Sang Chencao gave a faint, mocking smile. “First, we take Feng Rong down the mountain. Whether we use that plan depends on whether you and I can find the source of the plant.”
Feng Yun’ai’s gaze was icy. She suspected Sang Chencao was likely just tricking her to get Feng Rong off the mountain.
But… she truly did want to take Feng Rong away. Her heart felt torn in two, uncertain which way to lean.
“Xiuxiu, the knockout incense is about to wear off,” Sang Chencao whispered.
The words struck like a bell ringing over Feng Yun’ai’s head.
“Fine. We do as you say.” Feng Yun’ai carefully lifted Feng Rong from the stone bed. She had never imagined there would come a day when she would be carrying Feng Rong’s corpse.
“Make sure you’ve thought this through, Xiuxiu.” Even though Feng Yun’ai had agreed, Sang Chencao insisted on asking once more.
Feng Yun’ai nodded. “I have.”
Aside from the coldness of the shell, the texture of the body was supple, clearly no different from a living person—enough to deceive even the halls of the underworld.
Feng Yun’ai thought to herself: If she really can deceive the heavens, could Feng Rong still come back to life?
On second thought, she was the one having flights of fancy now.
Sang Chencao counted the time on her fingers and turned. “We have to go. I’m not that familiar with Cloud City, but I know of a coffin shop. We’ll head there first.”
“There will be patrols in the city,” Feng Yun’ai said coldly.
“They can’t search thousands of coffins one by one. Besides, that’s a residential area for commoners; I doubt they’ll check as rigorously as they do the inns.” Sang Chencao leapt up unhurriedly, flipping back into the Archive from the underground chamber.
Feng Yun’ai had never seen this coffin shop and didn’t know if it was as the woman described—if there truly were that many coffins.
She carried Feng Rong’s body and stepped onto the wind. When she landed, she was deathly afraid of the jostling making Feng Rong uncomfortable.
She hadn’t expected that a person whose swordplay was once peerless, who never needed external help for anything, would now lie so indifferently upon her back.
Sang Chencao utilized her lightness skill, slowly striking out a palm to send a hanging lantern swaying along its chain.
The shadows of the lanterns were disrupted again. If one were to step on the shadows now, the secret room would no longer open.
Feng Yun’ai looked toward the door. As far as she could see, the guards were still fast asleep, none showing signs of waking.
Sang Chencao landed gracefully. With a flick of her index finger, she snatched the white silk veil tucked into Feng Yun’ai’s belt and moved close to cover her eyes again.
At such proximity, their breaths mingled, feeling exceptionally intimate.
Despite the silk veil, Feng Yun’ai looked away. She truly didn’t want to look too long at this woman’s true face, even though she was used to it by now.
Whether it was her appearance or her expression, this woman was too much like a specter; one extra look felt as if it could unravel one’s soul.
It was as if this woman were herself a living parasite.
Sang Chencao let out a mocking laugh and pinched Feng Yun’ai’s chin, forcing her to turn her head back and look her in the eye.
“What are you doing?” Feng Yun’ai frowned.
Sang Chencao let go, satisfied. “Follow me closely later,” she whispered. “Whether Feng Rong’s body can be hidden safely depends entirely on you.”
When they were coming up the mountain, Sang Chencao hadn’t spoken like this. Now that her voice was low, there was a strange hint of coercion in her tone.
Feng Yun’ai hurriedly averted her gaze. She saw no unwelcome guests, but her intuition told her that these words were not merely a hollow wind.
“Shh.” Sang Chencao pressed a finger to her lips, then took out her bug whistle and blew a soft, airy note.
“Did your insects encounter someone?” Feng Yun’ai asked with a frown.
Sang Chencao gave a nonchalant hum. As she stepped out of the Archive, she didn’t forget to pick up the paper kite lying by the door. “It seems Zhou Gui has arrived.”
Feng Yun’ai’s steps faltered. “What is she doing coming up the mountain at this hour?” she asked coldly.
“She doesn’t seem to be alone.” Sang Chencao held the whistle and blew a short, sharp note.
Feng Yun’ai looked around, unsure which way was best to descend. If they went down now, they would surely run into Zhou Gui.
“Don’t panic. It’s a good chance to see who she’s with.” Sang Chencao remained as unruffled as ever.
“But the people on the mountain haven’t woken yet. If Zhou Gui comes up now, she will definitely notice something is wrong.” Feng Yun’ai’s chest tightened.
Sang Chencao laughed, her eyes narrowing. “At most, Zhou Gui will know someone broke into Listening Goose Peak. But as for what the intruders took, she could rack her brain forever and never figure it out.”
Feng Yun’ai pursed her lips and looked at what was in Sang Chencao’s hand.
“Keeping it?” Sang Chencao arched an eyebrow and held out the paper kite.
Feng Yun’ai looked back at the Archive’s plaque. After a long silence, she said, “I won’t take it.”
Sang Chencao didn’t ask a second time. With a flick of her wrist, the paper kite soared like a night hawk with spread wings, landing steadily back on the plaque.
At first glance, it looked no different than before. In reality, there was much less dust on the kite, but fortunately, no one would know without a close inspection.
