Chapter 47
Chapter 47: Cheesy Love Lines
“I’ll have Wu Jiu and the others prepare what we need to break the formation,” Ding He Ran said. “We assemble at Shen hour and depart. Lord, is that acceptable?”
Mo Ting Feng nodded, and the group dispersed at once.
Less than two hours remained. The preparation window was painfully tight.
Mo Ting Feng paced, calculating. If this truly was Yin Mountain soul-returning art, then the cave mouth might be sealed with a blood array—and the items needed to counter such an array were not easy to find. With that thought, he flashed away to find Ding He Ran.
The Council Hall thinned until only a few people remained.
Song Wei Chen didn’t look well. She sat where she was, hollow-eyed, the earlier food now burning in her stomach after she’d thrown it up. She stared at nothing, mind drifting back to a phrase she’d heard—born at a yin hour and yin quarter, eight characters of pure yin.
As a child, her grandmother had said things like that over and over. “Wei Wei… you were born at a yin hour and yin quarter, eight characters of pure yin. The book says a chart like yours harms your mother. No wonder madam labored two whole days to have you. When you were born, even your baby hair had dried. When you grow up, you must be filial to madam, understand?”
Those children had all lost their mothers. So maybe the “book” had been right after all…
She couldn’t go back anyway. Maybe it was better this way. The thought made her chest feel heavy, and her mood dulled.
“Brother must be the new White Robe Venerable,” a soft, syrupy voice said beside her. “Why the long face? Could sister share your worries?”
Song Wei Chen looked up—and of course. The one person she didn’t want to see.
Ruan Mian Mian stood there, cheeks faintly pink, eyes shimmering with practiced sweetness. When did she even get in?
She came so often it was ridiculous. Was she a Dust Warden employee now? The kind who clocked in every day?
Truth was, Ruan Mian Mian had come to find Mo Ting Feng and deliver a sachet. Instead, she’d run into Song Wei Chen wearing White Robe. He looked slim, even fragile, but his features were clean and striking. And she’d heard he was the only Po Yu Zhe in history—someone with limitless prospects. Better to keep her options open.
Protected by the White Robe disguise, Song Wei Chen felt a wicked idea spark.
Fine. I’ll take down this fox sister who flirts with everything that moves. Let Mo Ting Feng see what kind of “thing” he’s been entertaining. He went crazy at Moonwatch Tower over her—she’s not worth it.
She straightened, imagining herself as the boss of some sapphic circle, radiating pure top energy.
“A beauty so thoughtful exists in this world?” she said smoothly. “May I ask how this little immortal maiden is addressed?”
Magpie immediately chimed in with theatrical pride. “My master is Lord Si Kong’s cousin, Ruan Xing Xuan—talented beyond measure, unmatched in song and art. Who in the realm doesn’t know her?”
“Girl, enough,” Ruan Mian Mian scolded lightly, then turned shy eyes back to Song Wei Chen. “Brother may call sister by her boudoir name. Mian Mian.”
Song Wei Chen took her hand and drew it close, as if to breathe in her scent.
“So fragrant. So soft. So pale. Mian Mian—truly, you live up to your name.”
Then she dipped her head and brushed a pretend kiss to the back of Ruan Mian Mian’s hand.
The moment she did it, she wanted to die.
So tacky, Song Wei Chen. Even Da Qing Oilfield isn’t this greasy.
Can you get any more embarrassing? Are you Mr. Zhang from UTC+8 or something?
Who falls for this kind of oily nonsense?
Ruan Mian Mian, however, had never been “treated” like this before. Her heart bloomed bright with delight, though she still put on a shy act, tapping Song Wei Chen’s arm with a clenched fist.
“Brother is so bad. How can you bully Mian Mian the moment we meet?”
“Call me Ah Chen,” Song Wei Chen said without blinking.
Her mouth kept pouring oil, and inside she nearly spat blood. Old Long Jing liked this? Perfect. Then cheesy lines would be easy.
She caught Ruan Mian Mian’s wrist and tugged gently, meaning only to draw her closer to speak. Instead, Ruan Mian Mian went with it and toppled straight into her arms.
Song Wei Chen screamed profanity in her head, but outwardly she leaned in and held her a little tighter, committing to the act.
“You must write beautifully,” she murmured near Ruan Mian Mian’s ear.
Ruan Mian Mian smiled, eyes downcast. “Why?”
“Because you rewrote my life.”
She lifted her gaze with exaggerated sincerity. “And you must know magic—because when I look at you, everyone else disappears.”
Ruan Mian Mian’s face flushed deeper and deeper. Song Wei Chen laughed wildly inside.
“And you were especially annoying today,” she added, because that part was true and it felt amazing to say.
Ruan Mian Mian’s smile froze for half a breath.
Song Wei Chen leaned in again and softened her voice. “Annoyingly lovable. I could look at you a hundred times and never get tired.”
“Oh, Ah Chen Brother,” Ruan Mian Mian breathed, “you’re so bad. Sister won’t give in to you.”
She began to squirm and twist, all coy sweetness.
Song Wei Chen’s stomach was already on fire. With that extra weight wriggling in her lap, it got worse.
[Old Long Jing, please get up. You’re heavy, and if you keep twisting, my legs are going to snap.]
“…What are you doing?”
Mo Ting Feng’s voice came from behind them—flat, confused, and somehow sharper than it sounded.
He had blinkshifted into the Council Hall. Which meant he’d been watching for a while.
Ruan Mian Mian jolted, instantly standing straight. “Ting Feng Brother, I came to find you. I happened to run into Ah Chen Brother. Just now I tripped by accident—Ah Chen Brother caught me in time.”
Mo Ting Feng listened to her call Ah Chen Brother again and again and nearly lost his composure. He coughed into his fist as if to hide it.
His gaze locked on Song Wei Chen, accusing in silence: What are you doing now?
Song Wei Chen looked innocently back, then reached out and took Ruan Mian Mian’s hand again.
“Beauty,” she said sweetly, “you fell and I caught you. So why did you steal something from me instead?”
Ruan Mian Mian flustered. “Ah Chen Brother, don’t talk nonsense. What did I steal from you?”
“You stole my heart.”
Ruan Mian Mian had never met a “man” this shamelessly slick. She was fully cornered—blushing, rattled, and strangely thrilled. On impulse, she pulled out the sachet and handed it to Song Wei Chen.
“Brother lost something because of me—it’s my fault. Take this sachet I embroidered myself as an apology. You must wear it on you all the time, okay?”
Clearly, she’d shifted targets on the spot. Compared to an unromantic block of wood like Mo Ting Feng, this White Robe knew how to play.
Song Wei Chen sniffed it and let her eyes go dreamy. “It has beauty’s scent. I’ll hug it and sleep with it every night.”
“Ah Chen Brother,” Ruan Mian Mian scolded, but her face was bright as peach blossoms.
Song Wei Chen toyed with the sachet, then glanced at Mo Ting Feng, enjoying every second. She stood, lifted a finger, and lightly traced Ruan Mian Mian’s cheek.
“I’m bad,” she said. “But Ting Feng Brother is good. Beauty—choose one.”
Ruan Mian Mian’s heart leapt. When had anyone dared challenge a Dust Warden official like this? She assumed the sachet’s “effect” was doing its work. If she’d known it was this powerful, why had she wasted so many visits grinding ink in the Council Hall?
“Song Wei Chen,” Mo Ting Feng snapped. “Have you had enough? You never take anything seriously.”
Song Wei Chen pouted and dropped back into her chair. How was she not serious? She hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d been waiting right here for Shen hour. He was just picking a fight because she’d teased his fox sister.
“Mian Mian,” Mo Ting Feng said coldly, “go home. We have something extremely important to handle today. We won’t keep you.”
Then, without waiting for her reaction, he hooked Song Wei Chen up like a chick and dragged her out of the Council Hall. He’d come back looking for her, and instead he’d walked into this.
Ruan Mian Mian watched his icy back, but her smile only widened. Jealousy, she thought. White Robe’s attitude had made him jealous. Two men fighting over her—wasn’t that exactly what she wanted?
“Master is happy today,” Magpie said with a sycophantic grin. “This servant girl won’t go find that stinking Sang Pu girl to annoy the Noble Consort.”
On the soul-carrying boat, heading once more toward the River of Oblivion, silence stretched a long while. Mo Ting Feng finally spoke.
“Why did you toy with Mian Mian?”
Song Wei Chen rolled her eyes. Men really were blind.
“Big Brother, can you at least watch the whole show? That fox sister saw I was handsome and came to seduce me first.”
“Song Wei Chen,” he said sharply. “Remember who you are.”
What he meant was: she was still a young lady of a daughter household. How could she behave like that? If Ruan Mian Mian took it seriously, how would she clean it up? And if she discovered Song Wei Chen’s true identity…
But with the grievance-breakers around, he couldn’t say it outright.
So Song Wei Chen misunderstood.
She thought he was blinded and single-mindedly defending that green-tea schemer. Of course. What was she, in his eyes? Just a liar, a suspect. How could she possibly challenge someone like that?
She’d even tried to help him see clearly, to recognize what kind of fox sister he was dealing with—only to realize it was a mummy meeting a tomb raider: one willing to die, one willing to bury.
Words were useless. She clutched her stomach, curled up against the boat’s side, and closed her eyes, refusing to speak.
Soon they reached the site. The sky sank darker and darker. The moon still hadn’t risen. Everything felt dead and heavy—except the cave mouth, where threads of red light seeped out in a strange, pulsing glow.