Chapter 46
Chapter 46: Heart Demon and Blood
Lin Yu Ning clutched the sutra to her chest and fled without looking back, so panicked she even forgot to say thank you.
She ran in a staggering rush, nearly catching her foot on the high threshold and pitching forward.
All she could think was that her cousin’s courtyard felt sinister, darker than any haunted house in the rumors.
That wisp of black qi that had skittered along the floor the instant the bookshelf shifted still left her spine ice-cold, as if her soul had been yanked halfway out of her body.
Xiao Man had no time to spare for Third Miss.
Her heart felt as if a thousand needles were stabbing into it, sharp enough to bead sweat on her brow.
And Lin Qing Xuan—out there beyond the study—looked as if he was faring no better.
Ignoring the pain, Xiao Man bolted out in a few long strides.
Her eyes snapped to Lin Qing Xuan’s chest and stayed there, nailed in place.
Blood was seeping out—steady, relentless.
Not bright red.
A deep, dark crimson shot through with faint, unnatural black qi.
Something was being ripped from his warm body, forced out inch by inch.
The sight was violent and wrong, both bloody and uncanny.
“Old Chen Tou! Hurry—come quick!”
She screamed until her voice turned sharp and strange, barely sounding like herself.
Old Chen Tou burst in like a gust of wind. The moment he saw Lin Qing Xuan, his weathered face went blank, as if all color had been wiped away.
“Young Master!”
He lunged forward and caught Lin Qing Xuan with his bony body, then whipped his head around and bellowed at Xiao Man, who stood frozen.
“What are you waiting for? Go get the house physician! Go!”
Xiao Man bit down on her lower lip until it nearly bled.
But instead of running, she took a step closer, eyes locked on Lin Qing Xuan’s face—pale as funeral paper.
“The black qi that rushed out just now… that was Tuan Tuan, wasn’t it?”
Lin Qing Xuan’s breathing was heavy, each breath dragging like it tore through him.
His eyelids seemed too heavy to lift, yet he held on to the last thread of clarity.
“He is me,” he rasped, “and I am him.”
It sounded like a riddle, but Xiao Man understood at once.
Her heart clenched so hard she nearly doubled over.
“You mean…?”
“He is my heart demon.”
His voice was hoarse, like rough stone grinding against rough stone.
“He can affect me… and I can affect him.”
With that, something in Xiao Man’s mind detonated.
She saw that strange dream again—felt it again. That wicked presence that loved to press close to her ear and whisper shameless things.
Lin Qing Xuan.
He said he wanted her.
He said he dreamed of her every night.
All those blush-burning, heartbeat-racing words. All those brazen, out-of-line acts.
So it hadn’t been an illusion.
It hadn’t been some meaningless nightmare.
It had been Lin Qing Xuan himself—warped and pushed by his heart demon.
The deepest desire he never dared show anyone.
“So you used a forbidden art to force it out of your body,” she demanded, voice shaking, “and locked it in the study?”
Lin Qing Xuan closed his eyes once.
A silent yes.
That tiny motion shattered the last sliver of denial she’d been clinging to.
“Then the blood…” Her throat felt parched, raw. “The blood from your chest…”
“Heart’s blood,” he panted. “To suppress it.”
Xiao Man’s pupils shrank.
So the talismans, the seals, the restraints in that secret room—he had drawn them all, stroke by stroke, with his own heart’s blood.
He’d ripped his heart demon from himself, then used his lifeblood to pin it down… all so that thing wouldn’t slip into her dreams and harass her.
Her throat tightened as if an invisible hand had seized it.
She tried to speak again—but Old Chen Tou cut her off with a thunderous roar.
“Miss Xiao Man! Go fetch the house physician! Do you want the young master dead?!”
His eyes were bloodshot, veins standing out as he shouted.
That was what finally knocked her back into motion.
She spun and sprinted, no longer caring about anything else.
When she dragged the house physician, Doctor Wang, back in—his medicine chest thumping against his side—Lin Qing Xuan was already half unconscious.
The moon-white monk’s robe across his chest was soaked through in a wide, glaring stain of red.
Doctor Wang blanched. He seized Lin Qing Xuan’s wrist, took the pulse, and his brows twisted into a hard knot.
“This… this pulse is chaos.” His mutter turned incredulous. “Eldest Young Master, did you secretly take pills, or did you fail a tribulation?”
He clicked his tongue, half scolding, half stunned.
“Too much blood loss. Qi and blood both depleted. Heart meridians damaged… Young man, you can’t spend your body like this.”
Lin Qing Xuan lay there without the strength to even shake his head, letting Doctor Wang examine him.
Doctor Wang let out a long, heavy sigh, then scratched out a prescription—dense and forceful, meant to replenish qi and blood in a hurry. He handed it to Old Chen Tou and warned him solemnly:
“Three days of strict bed rest. Not a shred of inner power—remember that. If he forces it, the heart meridians will snap, and even an immortal won’t save him.”
Then he tossed out one more complaint, as if it offended his medical sensibilities:
“And this Auspicious Cloud Residence has terrible feng shui. Trouble every few days. Ask First Madam if it’s time to change residences.”
Xiao Man stood to the side, twisting the hem of her sleeve until the soft cloth nearly became a rope.
After Doctor Wang and Old Chen Tou withdrew, the room finally went quiet.
Only the two of them remained.
Lin Qing Xuan, who should have been asleep, opened his eyes.
His gaze pierced the bed curtains and fixed on her.
“Scared?”
Xiao Man pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.
“Scared of me,” he continued, voice light, almost weightless—and yet it cut straight through her. “Scared of me like this.”
She stayed silent for a long time.
So long that the light in his eyes seemed to dim with each breath.
Then she stepped forward to the bedside.
Carefully, she tucked the blanket back over him where it had slipped.
“Compared to the shameless, grabby Buddhist Scion in my dreams…”
Her lashes lowered. She didn’t dare look at him, and her voice fell so soft it was nearly a whisper.
“This you… feels real.”
Lin Qing Xuan went still.
Something surged in his dark eyes, then steadied.
A quiet laugh escaped him—loose with relief.
Immediately it tugged his wound. He hissed, brow knitting tight.
Xiao Man glared at him, cheeks puffing with anger.
“No laughing! The house physician said you need rest. Do you want to die?”
He looked at her puffed cheeks. Something faint and almost tender flickered through his cool gaze, then disappeared, smoothing back into stillness.
“Xiao Man,” he called.
“Mm?”
“About the study—”
“I won’t tell anyone.” She cut him off cleanly, like an oath. “I want to live a few more years. The more you know, the faster you die. I understand that perfectly.”
Lin Qing Xuan gave a soft “Mm,” as if something in him finally eased, and closed his eyes again.
Xiao Man watched his paper-pale face, one thought turning over and over in her mind.
Using heart’s blood to suppress his own heart demon… this Buddhist Scion was ruthless to himself.
Elsewhere, the heart demon that had escaped tore through the vast Heir Apparent’s Manor like smoke in a storm.
Lin Qing Xuan had suppressed it for so long—forcing it to listen to those mind-numbing sutras day after day, denying it the essence of sun and moon—that it was weak enough to be mistaken for a wisp.
It seethed.
It wanted, desperately, to torment that woman—Yao Xiao Man.
It still remembered those dreams: Xiao Man and Lin Qing Xuan tangled together in delicious heat.
Half the credit was its own, and half was Lin Qing Xuan’s true intent.
No one was walking away clean.
And yet Lin Qing Xuan—the Buddhist Scion with that relic bead—had the audacity to ambush it without warning.
He wanted Xiao Man so badly he could choke on it, then put on a holy face and used his own heart’s blood to suppress the demon, calling it compassion.
Pah.
Hypocrite.
Every night, Lin Qing Xuan’s desire for that woman grew like weeds through stone, impossible to press down. From beginning to end, the only person in his fantasies was Yao Xiao Man.
In the dark, the heart demon sneered.
“Real Buddhist Scion, fake monk—your lust is my finest meal.”
Then it caught the scent of something rich.
In a corner of the garden, a few gossipy maids were whispering, tearing others down—jealousy, greed, resentment, thick clinging negativity.
To the heart demon, it was a feast fit for emperors.
Tuan Tuan pounced.
It drank greedily, gulp after gulp.
Freshly escaped, it needed to gorge.
It swept through the manor from end to end—wherever there was shadow, wherever there was want, it left its mark.
By nightfall, stuffed full of “nourishment,” it slipped back to the Auspicious Cloud Residence.
It knew Lin Qing Xuan was badly weakened now—a paper tiger. He couldn’t do a thing to it.
It slid through the crack of the door and into Xiao Man’s room.
Xiao Man was already asleep.
The heart demon was still a coil of black mist, only a little more solid than before.
With a slick, soundless motion, it dove into her dream.
Her dream was pink and violet, sweet bubbles drifting through it like breath.
The heart demon darted about, lazy with pleasure, sipping the pure goodness that rose from Xiao Man. It hummed in satisfaction.
There she was in the dream, sprawled atop a cloud so soft it looked like it could swallow her whole.
The heart demon rushed close and nuzzled her like a spoiled cat, rubbing and rubbing.
Dream-Xiao Man cracked her eyes open. Seeing the familiar black mist, she wasn’t afraid at all.
“You’re back, Tuan Tuan.”
At that name, the heart demon spun happily in midair.
It loved it when she called it that.
But the next moment, her face darkened.
“You hurt Lin Qing Xuan so badly!”
The heart demon twisted petulantly.
“He deserved it! The three of us are one—one sensation, one shared dream. Why am I the only one who gets locked up? That’s unfair!”
It huffed, then snapped back with righteous fury.
“Besides, you two have been sweet as honey lately. You think I don’t see it?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” Xiao Man’s face flushed hot. “I’m executing my ‘indenture ends, leave the manor’ plan. My ultimate goal is freedom. Lying flat. I don’t want any bullshit romance!”
“Hmph.” The heart demon’s laugh turned sharp. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”
It circled her like a smug vulture.
“I wonder which ‘free’ woman, a few days ago in a dream, was clinging to a certain Buddhist Scion’s neck and calling him ‘good brother’ in that soft voice—oh, how shameless.”
It pinched its voice and mimicked her, dragging the words out until they dripped.
Xiao Man’s face flared red all the way to her ears.
“Y-you shut up!”
She sprang up from the cloud and swung at the mist.
Her hand passed right through.
Again.
And again.
The heart demon cackled, dodging with lazy delight, chanting as it drifted out of reach.
“Good brother!”
“Good brother, faster!”
“Good brother…”
“Ah—!”
Xiao Man jolted upright in bed, the shout dying in her throat.
The room was black as ink. She trembled with rage, breathing hard, that cheap, infuriating voice still echoing in her ears.
Damn it.
So damn infuriating.
She snatched up her pillow and hurled it to the floor, but the anger didn’t ease even a little.
Hopeless.
She couldn’t do a single thing about that bastard.