Return to Before the Villain’s Corruption

Chapter 28

Outside the room, attendants hurried through the long corridors and staircases, their footsteps overlapping in a steady rhythm. Behind the closed door, the chamber was lit with lamps and scented with incense, yet the atmosphere was so still it felt oppressive.

When Qin Donglin heard the words "Nine Revolutions Pill," the corner of his lips couldn't help but twitch upward.

Admittedly, Song Qiushi had always spent money like water, never understanding the hardship of seeking rare treasures. Wu Fei had nagged him about it since childhood, but he had never paid it much mind.

His possessions—whether given to Song Qiushi to play with or squander—were never a cause for regret. Material things could always be replaced.

But just now, an uncontrollable thought arose in his mind: perhaps he should let her experience for herself what it truly meant to traverse vast seas, journey countless miles, dive into the depths to break formations and retrieve a dragon’s core. Maybe then she wouldn’t so casually empty her pockets for a frail, helpless black dragon.

Tsk.

Truly, Song Qiushi was exceedingly generous—when it came to other men.

Her fingers were slender and delicate, soft as if boneless, and when they brushed against the back of his hand or the tail of his little finger, they were cool to the touch, carrying a tentative, cautious air.

Here she went again.

No one apologized faster than she did.

When she leaned in a second time, Qin Donglin lazily shifted his posture, subtly moving his hand away so that Qiushi only managed to graze the embroidered patterns of stars and moons at the edge of his sleeve.

After this expected rejection, Qiushi pinched the bridge of her nose and stole a glance at him.

All she saw was the sharp line of his nose and the faint curve of his lips.

Not a single glance spared for her.

Qiushi let out a soft, barely-there cough. Mo Ruanruan and Cheng Yi turned their gazes toward her one after another. Both wore smiles, yet their effects were worlds apart—Cheng Yi exuded a warmth like spring sunshine, while Qin Donglin carried the sharp, untamed edge of a curved blade, one frostily aloof, the other radiantly gentle.

They say the most beautiful and tender are often the most dangerous. Silently, Qiushi inched closer to Qin Donglin.

"You needn’t thank me, Cheng Yi," she said, her voice clear and melodious—unlike Mo Ruanruan’s soft, sugary tones, hers was like the crisp chime of mountain spring water, sweet enough to seep into one’s heart. "My father mentioned before that he wished to recommend you to an old friend from beyond the heavens. But word came the other day—it seems this won’t be possible. That elder has already found a promising disciple in the mortal realm, taken him in as his final student, and closed his mountain gates, declaring he will accept no more."

Here, her tone shifted into something perfectly measured—just the right touch of regret. "This matter was only ever my father’s idea, so we never spoke of it to you. But servants tend to turn whispers into storms, and we feared you might hear rumors and misunderstand. That’s why I sent the Nine Revolutions Pill—both as my own gesture and as the will of the main city."

Her words left the room in silence.

For a fleeting moment, the gentle starlight in Cheng Yi’s eyes dimmed, something shadowed and unreadable flickering deep within before vanishing just as quickly.

They all knew exactly who Song Chengshu’s "old friend from beyond the heavens" was—the master of the Sacred Mountain, a figure of immense power. Countless prodigies dreamed of becoming his disciple, but the man was notoriously selective, lamenting that no one could inherit his legacy while continuing to reject every candidate.

For Cheng Yi, being accepted under such a master would have been like finding a sliver of light in utter darkness—a ladder to climb just a little higher.

Even someone as composed as him had allowed himself to hope these past days. The temptation had been that great.

Now, in just a few sentences, Qiushi had made it clear: this was never more than idle talk between her father and herself. No promises had been made. But since rumors might have reached him, here were two Nine Revolutions Pills—a consolation prize, a way to soften the blow while he recovered.

What a joke.

Cheng Yi’s gaze fell on the small box by his bedside, and for a moment, it felt like pure mockery.

Yet his resilience was beyond ordinary comprehension.

He adjusted in the blink of an eye, his smile never faltering.

"You needn’t be so courteous, Miss Qiushi," he said. "Back then, I saved you without thought, and you later saved me in return. Our debts cancel out—you owe me nothing."

Qiushi nodded, treating this as a mere formality, offering no further words.

Whatever the truth behind that past kindness—whether premeditated or genuine—she had repaid the debt. She truly owed Cheng Yi nothing now.

Mo Ruanruan, who still carried a debt of gratitude, spoke up when she saw Qiushi had no intention of continuing. "Earlier, Cheng Yi, you brought up a request. My brother and the others have discussed it."

"You must understand—the number of entrants to the Luyuan Secret Realm is strictly regulated. Such an opportunity is fiercely contested among our celestial youths. The roster was finalized three months ago. Your sudden request now would mean stripping someone else of their place."

"Their spots were either earned through merit or by risking their lives to contribute to the Celestial Clan. To revoke them arbitrarily would disrupt the rules, which is why my elder brother and Yun Xuan both disagreed."

"Such matters are not under my jurisdiction. They have always been handled by the Celestial Clan's Young Immortal King. I cannot make this decision for you, so I hope you understand."

Cheng Yi seemed to have anticipated this outcome. For the first time, his disappointment was palpable—the smile at his lips strained, his long, dark hair spilling over his plain white robes and curling into the hollow of his collarbone, the contrast stark and arresting.

Song Qiushi stared at him for a few moments, her gaze nearly ensnared.

So the phrase "delicate and pitiable" wasn’t reserved solely for women—it could describe a man just as well.

Then, abruptly, the light before her dimmed. When she looked up again, all she saw was the man’s back, straight and unyielding as bamboo, completely shielding her from view.

Qiushi snapped out of her daze, shifting her feet uncomfortably.

Qin Donglin glanced at her sidelong, his expression cool, lips pressed into a thin line. Even without a word, she could guess his meaning.

It boiled down to two questions:

—Was he that good-looking?

—Did she plan to keep staring?

"It’s alright. I know my request was presumptuous. The Celestial Clan has its rules, and they shouldn’t be bent for an outsider like me."

Cheng Yi shook his head, his tone even, devoid of resentment.

Qiushi wasn’t the only one affected. Mo Ruanruan’s resolve wavered quickly. After a moment of deliberation, she finally relented: "Luo Ying has agreed to yield a spot to you."

But she added firmly, "However, this will inevitably cause discontent among his team and undermine his authority. I’ll have to see how things unfold. If it places him in too difficult a position, I won’t allow the transfer."

"Of course, you may propose another condition instead. As I said, anything within my power to grant, I will."

Cheng Yi fell silent for a long moment before responding hoarsely, "I have no other requests."

Such words, spoken by anyone else, might have come across as unreasonable or inflexible. Yet from him, they carried no trace of displeasure.

Mo Ruanruan studied him for a while before nodding. "I’ll advocate for you, but I can’t guarantee success."

At this, Cheng Yi struggled to rise, leaning on Qing Feng’s support, and bowed deeply to the three in the room, his manners impeccable. "Regardless of the outcome, you’ve already done your part. Fate governs all, and I’ll accept whatever comes."

The medicinal scent in the room had grown thicker with time. With nothing left to discuss, Qiushi and the others took their leave.

The moment the door closed, the warmth in Cheng Yi’s eyes vanished. Qing Feng helped him back to bed, where he lay with eyes shut, exhaustion and frailty etched into his features. His slender index finger pressed hard against the prominent ridge of his left collarbone—once, twice—until a red mark bloomed. He didn’t stop until the skin broke, blood welling, before finally tugging his collar up to conceal it.

"Investigate Song Qiushi," Cheng Yi suddenly ordered Qing Feng. "Something must have happened—something I’m unaware of. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have suddenly turned hostile toward me."

Qing Feng stiffened but didn’t dare question him. Silently pressing a hand to his forehead in salute, he withdrew.

=====

Once they rounded the corner away from Cheng Yi’s room, Mo Ruanruan slumped onto the staircase landing, her plump face scrunched in distress.

"Luo Ying’s team consists of the Celestial Clan’s finest. If he replaces one of them with this unknown outsider, do you really think they’ll accept it?" Qiushi asked, trailing behind Qin Donglin while clutching his sleeve. She paused beside Mo Ruanruan.

Mo Ruanruan lifted her head, helpless and honest. "No."

Chaos was inevitable.

"Luo Ying can agree, and he might even free up a spot. But you need to consider this: these aren’t ordinary Celestial soldiers. They can’t be ordered around at will. If team morale collapses, survival in a place as perilous as the Luyuan Secret Realm becomes uncertain."

"And when your father holds someone accountable, who will bear the blame? Mo Changheng? Or Luo Ying?"

Certainly not the little princess herself.

Qiushi had little interest in meddling in others’ affairs. Having said her piece, she followed Qin Donglin out of the inn.

"Let go."

The moment they stepped outside, Qin Donglin’s notoriously mercurial temper flared. He pointed at the two slender fingers still hooked into his sleeve. With a slow, deliberate "oh," Qiushi released him.

"Why say all that to Mo Ruanruan?" he asked. "You don’t want Cheng Yi entering the Luyuan Secret Realm with the Celestial Clan?"

"Whether he enters or not isn’t my concern. I just don’t want anything more to do with him."

Qiushi exhaled slowly, her eyes lifting to the shimmering light atop the eaves. "It’s just… I keep seeing my own reflection in Mo Ruanruan."

Two naturally fortunate young princesses, each doted on by their elder brothers and surrounded by childhood companions, lived carefree and unrestrained lives. Seeing each other, they couldn’t help but feel a certain resonance.

The eldest young lady, rarely given to reflection, was escorted back to the main city manor by Qin Donglin while she chattered away behind him.

“Just now, when I suddenly stopped to say those things to her, what crossed my mind was—what would I do if I were the one facing such a situation today?”

It was high noon, and the street vendors were fewer than in the morning, leaving a wide path for them to walk. “Take Song Yunhe, for example. Every time I cause trouble and Father punishes me, he lectures me about not doing it again, but then he takes my place in confinement.”

Having said that, Song Qiushi poked Qin Donglin’s back.

“Qin ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????Donglin, are you even listening to me?”

Without lifting his eyes, Qin Donglin responded lazily, as if humoring her: “I’m listening.”

Song Qiushi paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, slightly muffled and unnatural: “And then there’s you. Before we came, you were so fierce, saying Cheng Yi couldn’t join the demon faction’s team. But if I really brought him in, you wouldn’t actually abandon me—you’d just give me the cold shoulder for a few days at most.”

This was the understanding that came from growing up together, knowing each other inside out.

She could even decipher Qin Donglin’s intentions from a single glance.

Did she know how to placate him?

She knew all too well.

“I’ve seen what you’re like when you’re truly angry with someone.”

Song Qiushi lifted the hem of her skirt to step on his shadow. “You’ve never really been angry with me.”

Qin Donglin acted as if he hadn’t heard. After a long pause, his steps slowed slightly, as if deliberately matching her playful pace. They walked all the way from the western part of the city back to the center, and only after she entered the main city manor did he turn around, stepping through a spatial rift to return to the courtyard in Lin'an City.

Qin Yue had been waiting for him in the courtyard for some time.

“Had fun?”

Looking at his tall, upright son standing before him, Qin Yue snorted heavily. “You didn’t lose your temper and cause trouble again, did you?”

Qin Donglin poured tea for both of them, his tone indifferent as he deflected the question: “Have you decided on the birthday gift for Uncle Song?”

He tried to change the subject, but Qin Yue stubbornly steered it back. “Donglin, you’re a swordsman—direct and straightforward. Don’t keep your thoughts bottled up. Qiushi may have followed you around since childhood, but don’t assume she can’t live without you. Your mother and I, along with Uncle Song, have already discussed it. The engagement between you two is entirely up to you. Qiushi can leave you anytime and run off with that Cheng… that black dragon.”

Qin Donglin took a sip of tea before setting the cup down, frowning. “The tea today is no good. Tell the attendants to bring the kind we use at Liugi Mountain.”

Qin Yue almost laughed at that. “Don’t change the subject with this tea nonsense—you don’t even drink it often.”

“Setting aside her status as the main city’s young lady, Qiushi herself is outstanding. She’s ranked on the Six Realms Combat List, and once the Demonic Moon Zither acknowledges her as its master, she might even surpass you. Stop being so stubborn.”

Qin Donglin gave a noncommittal hum, clearly letting the words go in one ear and out the other. Seeing that Qin Yue had nothing more to say, he lifted his eyelids slightly. “I’m going back to my room.”

Once inside, Qin Donglin stood before the latticed window, his gaze resting on the clusters of pink blossoms outside, the banana leaf groves, and the wisteria trellis along the corridor. But what flashed through his mind was Song Qiushi’s face, as delicate as peach petals, her slender fingers pressing lightly against the back of his hand, and the way she had playfully hopped about, stepping on his shadow.

But then, all of it gradually morphed into the way she had stared intently at Cheng Yi, and the words Qin Yue had just spoken.

How strange.

This was just how he and Song Qiushi had always been. Since childhood, he had known he was supposed to indulge her, shield her. When she made mistakes, he took the punishment. If she wanted some treasure, he went to find it. Even when she struggled with zither scores, he, a swordsman, would set aside his own tasks to help her figure it out.

Even when he was training in the Celestial Realm, dodging lightning strikes, he would still glance back to check if the protective barrier he’d cast around her was thick enough.

Qin Donglin had a terrible temper—capricious and unpredictable. But he had never truly abandoned Song Qiushi.

He had assumed that he and Song Qiushi would always be like this—that when the time came, they would formally engage, then marry.

Song Qiushi had followed him around since childhood, filling his free time so naturally and completely that it had never occurred to him that this relationship, this dynamic between them, could be severed so easily.

The appearance of that black dragon, and the absurd dream she had spoken of, made him realize it.

Even if he had never taken that dream seriously—though her expression when she told it had been earnest.

If she truly found herself in a life-or-death situation, only to narrowly escape it, her first reaction upon seeing him would undoubtedly be to burst into tears, followed by sobbing accusations that he took too long—that any later, and he’d only be able to offer incense at her grave.

And in that moment, no matter how furious or heartbroken he might be, his first words would still be—

"Where are you hurt?"

Even if his voice were icy and his expression grim.

Qin Donglin pressed his fingers to his temples, imagining what it would be like if Song Qiushi really ran off with someone else—abandoning her parents, her home, her elder brother, and even him. What would happen when they met again?

After a long silence, he opened his eyes, her playful, affectionate voice echoing in his ears: "You wouldn’t really stay mad at me."

He thought, Song Qiushi didn’t know him as well as she believed.

He wasn’t without temper—his anger ran deep.

If it ever came to that, he would, without a doubt, be furious.