Chapter 20

Song Qingshi felt a prickle of unease.

He had a nagging feeling he’d forgotten something crucial.

An Long was settled in the Serenity Retreat, attended by steady, experienced medicine attendants carefully chosen by Yue Wuhuan. Given An Long’s fondness for alcohol and a past incident where he’d pilfered Song Qingshi’s precious medicinal wine from the cellar during a binge, Song Qingshi had arranged for a fresh batch of fine spirits to be delivered to the retreat.

Alarm talismans were also affixed to the doors, windows, and roof of the main residence, a precaution against An Long, in a drunken stupor, scaling the walls in the dead of night to drag him out for cicada-hunting in trees or cricket-chasing in the grass.

Everything was meticulously arranged. So what exactly had he overlooked?

Late that night, Song Qingshi unbound his hair, changed into his nightclothes, and lay tossing and turning in bed, sleep utterly eluding him.

Finally, a flash of insight struck him, and he remembered…

Song Qingshi shot up from the bed, his heart pounding with dread. He hastily pulled on his shoes, threw on his outer robe, and bolted frantically towards An Long’s courtyard.

He’d forgotten that Little White loved to eat mice!

…

The night was deep, and the reek of alcohol from An Long’s room was so potent it permeated the air outside the door. The lights within were out, suggesting the occupant was asleep.

Song Qingshi stood at the entrance, pulling his robe tighter. He raised a hand to knock, hesitated for a long moment, then tapped softly.

A moment later, the door slowly creaked open.

A powerful gust of liquor-laden breath assailed him, and in the darkness, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist.

“Darling, I finally waited for you.”

Song Qingshi’s head reeled. Before he could process what was happening, he was swept off his feet and deposited onto the bed.

His loosely draped outer robe fell open, his hands were firmly pinned, and hot, ragged breaths caressed his neck as a hoarse voice pleaded, “Don’t leave tonight.”

Song Qingshi struggled, but found himself utterly immobile.

Body cultivators were beasts, their brute strength astonishing; direct confrontation was futile.

His protective Inner Fire flared instantly, raising his body temperature to a searing heat, like a branding iron.

An Long yelped in pain, releasing him, and tumbled off the bed, his clothes disheveled.

Song Qingshi used his Inner Fire to ignite the candle, then gazed coldly at the figure on the floor. “Sober now?”

An Long’s face paled. “Why… why is it you?”

Song Qingshi extinguished the flame, re-tied his outer robe, and asked with a dark expression, “Who did you think it was?”

“I thought…” An Long’s face was a mask of extreme awkwardness. Clutching his injured hand, he whined, “I thought it was that maid named Huang Ling, offering herself.”

Huang Ling? Song Qingshi pondered for a moment, vaguely recalling her. She was a relatively new arrival to Medicine King Valley, having been there only a few years, responsible for sweeping and tending the nearby gardens. Since most of the valley’s medicine attendants were men, with only thirty or forty women—mostly middle-aged—Huang Ling, being young, cheerful, clever, bold, and attractive, was quite popular among them. Song Qingshi used to frequently encounter her in the courtyard, exchanging a few words and answering her questions. However, after Yue Wuhuan took charge of internal affairs, he hadn’t seen her.

“You always scold me for getting into trouble when I drink, yet here you are, barging into my room without even drinking—what’s your excuse?” An Long, sensing his hesitation, immediately turned the tables. “And with your hair down, dressed like this—look in the mirror! How could I not mistake you? You’re lucky I didn’t light the lamp, or I’d have been scared to death.”

Song Qingshi couldn’t help but glance at the mirror—white robe, long hair…

Alright, he did look a bit like a female ghost.

Though slightly uncomfortable, they were both men, and it was an honest mistake. He wasn’t a great beauty like Yue Wuhuan, so there was no harm done, nothing worth making a fuss over.

“Forget it,” Song Qingshi magnanimously shifted the topic. “When did you start messing around with my medicine attendant?”

“Don’t slander me,” An Long scrambled back onto the bed, raising a hand in oath. “She was the one who came onto me. Go ask if you don’t believe me.”

His shirt hung open, his trousers loosely tied and half-falling, as he sat sprawled out, unconcerned about exposing his perfectly sculpted V-shaped torso and eight-pack abs above his “dog waist.” He exuded the charm of a bad boy, highly attractive to women.

Song Qingshi recalled An Long’s notorious history of philandering and, once again, believed him…

An Long grinned mischievously. “So, why are you here in the middle of the night?”

“I wasn’t here for you,” Song Qingshi remembered the crucial matter and immediately stood, looking around. “Where’s Little White?”

Hao Long coiled down from the beam, affectionately raising its head.

Song Qingshi grasped Hao Long and sternly instructed it not to eat any mice within Medicine King Valley.

Hao Long, highly intelligent, bobbed its head in understanding. Knowing it wouldn’t act recklessly like An Long, Song Qingshi finally relaxed, promising it many delicious treats and playtime later.

As man and snake communicated, An Long cast a knowing smirk towards the door—he had long noticed Yue Wuhuan standing at a distance in the courtyard, observing everything unfolding inside. Yet, Yue Wuhuan showed no discernible flaw; his expression and demeanor were perfectly relaxed, as if none of the antics bothered him in the slightest.

How interesting…

Yue Wuhuan, noticing An Long’s gaze, quickly bowed respectfully, lowering his head as if embarrassed, pretending he hadn’t seen a thing.

Every reaction was flawlessly natural.

He was the epitome of a model servant, knowing his place, sensible and obedient, never overstepping his bounds.

Alas, An Long wasn’t fooled.

In the Western Forest, everyone knew: the more vibrant the colors, the deadlier the poison.

…

After lecturing Hao Long, Song Qingshi prepared to leave.

An Long chuckled, pointing outside. “Your senior disciple is enjoying the show.”

“This is all your fault.” Song Qingshi’s face flushed. He felt his image as a mature and steady master in Yue Wuhuan’s eyes had been utterly ruined by that scoundrel An Long. He quickly made his exit, swiftly leading Yue Wuhuan away from the Serenity Retreat.

An Long watched them disappear, then rose, opened another jar of wine, and took a deep swig.

The more he drank, the clearer his mind became.

He touched his burned hand, chuckling self-deprecatingly, “Hah, and here I thought something good might happen…”

…

As they walked, Song Qingshi explained to Yue Wuhuan, “That guy’s just like an Alaskan Malamute—don’t take it to heart. I’m not usually like this.”

Yue Wuhuan asked, puzzled, “What’s an Alaskan Malamute?”

Song Qingshi, still irritated, snapped, “A dog!”

His sister had once owned an Alaskan Malamute—a professional home-wrecker, impossible to train, and utterly infuriating. He’d once tried walking it, but due to his weak legs, he was dragged straight into a river. Thankfully, the water was shallow, and he didn’t drown. Afterward, he still had to bribe the beast with treats and pampering.

Yue Wuhuan didn’t quite understand but didn’t press further, changing the subject. “The medicine attendants reported catching Huang Ling outside the Serenity Retreat. That girl truly is restless, trying to seduce the Master of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect. Honored Master, what do you think… should we send her to the farmstead?”

Song Qingshi considered for a moment. “Yes, send her away.”

While a young girl’s romantic fantasies were no major offense, Medicine King Valley housed many valuable resources, and it was unwise to keep anyone with ulterior motives. Moreover, An Long was a notorious philanderer who had discarded countless beautiful female cultivators. He once falsely claimed to be hiding in Medicine King Valley, leading several female cultivators to cause a ruckus, wailing and fighting. If not for the critical alchemy process that couldn’t be abandoned at the time, the original owner of this body would have stormed out to confront him. In short, such a scumbag was not someone an ordinary young girl could handle—keeping her distance was for the best.

Yue Wuhuan assented, then subtly pinched his nose.

Song Qingshi noticed his small gesture and asked, perplexed, “What’s wrong?”

After a brief hesitation, Yue Wuhuan replied, “Honored Master… you smell quite strongly of alcohol.”

Song Qingshi belatedly sniffed his sleeve and indeed caught a faint whiff of alcohol. He instantly felt utterly disgusted and hurried towards the bathhouse behind his quarters. “Wuhuan, fetch me fresh sleeping robes. I need a bath.”

“Understood,” Yue Wuhuan replied with a smile, adding cheerfully, “Be sure to scrub well.”

Song Qingshi first cast a few cleansing spells on himself, then happily plunged into the large hot spring pool, swimming a few laps. Later, he leaned against the edge, secretly poking the faint, newly defined lines on his soft, pale belly. Thinking of An Long’s chiseled eight-pack abs and V-line, then Yue Wuhuan’s taut, sculpted core, he suddenly felt a pang of dissatisfaction.

Now that he finally had a healthy body, shouldn’t he take time to train and make himself more… manly?

Song Qingshi lost himself in thought for a long while.

…

Outside, Yue Wuhuan sat calmly on the steps, idly toying with a surgical blade while reading a book.

The lamplight reflected only darkness in his eyes—a bottomless abyss.

How could he not be angry about such a thing?

The stench of that filthy, bug-loving bastard made him so nauseous he felt like vomiting…

Countless brutal lessons had taught him that the angrier he was, the calmer he must appear; the more disgusted he felt, the more natural he must seem. Never let anyone detect the slightest reluctance. In moments like these, he had practiced well—turning sobs into laughter, pain into pleasure, screams into sounds of encouragement, letting the repulsive ones indulge to their heart’s content.

Then, lurking in the deepest shadows…

Endure patiently. Wait diligently.

Until the perfect moment to bare his fangs.

Author’s Note:

Song Qingshi: What other relationship could I possibly have with men besides friendship? Anyone who thinks otherwise has improper thoughts!

Yue Wuhuan smiles: Whatever Master says is right. An Long smirks: Whatever Qing Shi says is right~