Chapter 19: The Sword Arrives

Qiao Yu had fled, but Wen Jin Ge remained where she was.

Light—blinding, cold—these were Wen Jin Ge’s impressions of this world. Here, the snow stretched endlessly, as if upon a vast plain, and the icy wind scraped across her cheeks like a razor’s edge.

She closed her eyes, reached down, and scooped up a handful of snow. She rubbed it in her palm, but it did not melt; it felt more like salt or sand.

Just as she was about to bring the snow to her lips, she heard voices carried on the wind—chanting, bells, the ringing of a clock, the clack of a wooden fish, the shouts of Taoist priests, the gentle laughter of women…

Wen Jin Ge sat there, unmoving. Sometimes, sound possesses its own life, shaped by the mood of its creator.

Now and then, she could feel the brush of a garment against her face—cotton, linen, silk—scented with incense, powder, wine, or even sour decay…

She waited quietly, and the sounds waited with her—coming and going, returning and departing…

If this were a horror story, it wouldn’t be ghosts leading her astray, but perhaps the demons of her own mind.

If she touched, spoke, or opened her eyes, it would mean she’d accepted the challenge, and it would be—

Establishing a connection?

Wen Jin Ge smiled. When the scent of powder drifted past again, when the handkerchief struck her face once more, when the bell rang anew, she reached out, and caught a cold, small foot in her hand.

Its owner stopped. Wen Jin Ge traced her hand up the bare foot; if one didn’t know she was a woman, the scene would appear quite indecent.

She flicked the bell tied to the woman’s ankle. “Lovely sound.”

“You jest, sir,” the woman replied, nudging her foot further into Wen Jin Ge’s lap. “I’m so cold!”

“Come closer, sit in my lap.” Wen Jin Ge thought, surely this was a kindly gesture to bridge the distance between them.

The woman was light as air, soft as though boneless. How her tall frame folded into Wen Jin Ge’s embrace was a mystery. She felt lighter than the cushions at home—Wen Jin Ge thought she held a feather.

“My lord!” the woman called, “Why won’t you look at me? Are you afraid I’m too ugly?”

“No, you’re beautiful! It’s just that—I am blind in both eyes and heart.” Wen Jin Ge clutched her chest, speaking with an air of deep affection. “Look at me—everyone at my sect calls me a sickly wretch, how could I ever be worthy of a beauty like you? Now that you let me hold you, you already honor me—I dare not hope for more.”

“Perhaps I am plain, just as you are?” the woman teased.

“That is only a possibility, but sadly, my eyesight is so poor I’ll never know your true face.”

“My lord~” she chided, her laughter coy, blowing softly in Wen Jin Ge’s ear. “What if I had a way to make you open your eyes?”

“Are you still cold?” Wen Jin Ge changed the subject abruptly.

“I am.” The woman seemed to fear Wen Jin Ge’s anger and snuggled deeper into her lap. Wen Jin Ge’s hand gently patted her back. “Your embrace is so warm, my lord—it proves you have a warm heart.”

I’m not dead, after all! Of course my heart is warm!

Wen Jin Ge muttered inwardly, yet smiled as she lifted the woman’s chin, slipping her hand inside the outer garment, caressing up and down, provoking the woman’s playful laughter and repeated exclamations, “How naughty you are!”

“A man’s mischief is a woman’s delight!” Wen Jin Ge sighed with guilt, then seized the woman’s silk robe and draped it over herself. Rising swiftly, she left the woman “cherished” but sprawled on the ground.

Wen Jin Ge sniffed her frozen nose, marveling, “Wow, it’s a bit thin, but truly warm. So your back wasn’t cold thanks to this outer robe!”

“My lord~” the woman smiled through gritted teeth, her tone seductive, unwilling to argue with a blind soul who couldn’t see her beauty. “Why is that, my lord? In this frozen world, I—”

“Are you cold?” Wen Jin Ge asked again.

This time, the woman shivered; if she took off any more, she might truly freeze to death.

“I am cold.” Wen Jin Ge shamelessly continued, lavish in her praise: “Your legs are not legs, but spring waters by the Seine; your back is not a back, but roses from Bulgaria; your waist is not a waist, but the blade of Death’s own saber; your lips are not lips, but clear waters beneath the Anhe Bridge.”

The woman smiled, thinking to herself, This fool has finally taken the bait.

Yet she did not expect Wen Jin Ge was pondering—since “nonexistence” still could not be summoned, she could think as much as she liked.

The violet magic aura—her Gou Chen sword emitted a blazing purple light when used; perhaps Gou Chen itself was a demon blade.

Then, the sword left with the Holy Light Split Serpent—could it be the same?

A demon blade used to slay demons—what a fitting concept.

“My lord! Oh, how you shame me—my lord, how could I ever be as wonderful as you say?”

All the females of this world love to be praised for their beauty—human, demon, monster, god—no matter what they say, their hearts cannot resist.

The woman before her was no exception—she felt her prey had finally been hooked.

“No, you are indeed as magnificent as I say.” Wen Jin Ge spoke with certainty. “Every gesture, every smile, every step—I adore it all. Miss, I fear I am being presumptuous.”

“Very well, very well!” The woman laughed again, covering her mouth with feigned modesty. “I am simply so fortunate, to have met a gentleman so discerning. Let me cure your eyes for you!”

“There’s no need for you to trouble yourself, miss. Your beauty is enough for me to savor by scent alone.” Wen Jin Ge smiled coolly. “Tell me, have you seen my junior brother?”

“Your junior brother?” The woman frowned. When they arrived at the snowy plain, Wen Jin Ge had been the only prey—could there be another who escaped?

No matter. She would deal with this one first, then hunt the other.

She replied, “No hurry. Come with me, my lord, and we’ll find him together.”

Wen Jin Ge’s thoughts wandered; the woman believed she was grieving and took her hand to comfort her. But suddenly, Wen Jin Ge asked coldly, “How long have you been dead?”

The woman: …

“Need someone to bury you, do you?”

The woman: …

“Are you a demon?”

The woman: …

“Are you all demons?”

The woman: …

“Enough!” Wen Jin Ge brushed her sleeve, feeling the stolen garment. “Back, is it?”

“Yes, my lord.” The woman was uncertain if Wen Jin Ge saw through her, and tried to keep up the act.

“You came too late. Had you arrived earlier, you might have seen me open my eyes.” Wen Jin Ge looked heavenward, as if in deep thought. “Now, let me send you home.”

“My lord, you truly care for me.” The woman entwined herself around Wen Jin Ge, sighing as her fingers pressed against Wen Jin Ge’s heart. With a little force, Wen Jin Ge would die at the instant she saw her face. But then she heard Wen Jin Ge, held in her arms, declare:

“Sword—come!”