Cheng Xueyi sat at the edge of the bed, watching Shen Nanyin tend to her injuries.
Her injury was an old ailment, one that had recurred every season for as long as she could remember. No one else had any way to treat it—only the person before her could.
Why was that?
Because it was all thanks to him.
Four times a year, once each season, Qiantian Sect sent people to Heart-Devouring Valley to perform the spirit-suppression rite.
Every member of the demonic race who refused to destroy the cultivation they had painstakingly built up had to endure the agony of having their heart devoured—hence the valley’s name.
No one could bear the day-and-night torment of that agony, so most obediently handed over their hard-earned cultivation. Many even meekly gave up cultivating altogether. Even so, that only lessened the pain somewhat; it could never be made to stop entirely.
So many years had passed, yet only a handful of the demonic race trapped in Heart-Devouring Valley had ever managed to accomplish anything. At this rate, even ten thousand years from now, the demonic race would likely never escape the fate of being sealed away.
Cheng Xueyi wanted freedom.
She wanted, even more, to find a way to save her mother.
So she could not resign herself to handing over her cultivation like the others did.
And so she had endured this most intense agony of a devoured heart, again and again, for decades.
That night, when she’d seen “Shen Nanyin” at the outer sect, she knew—she had waited five years, and finally, within the rigidly hierarchical Qiantian Sect, she had found her chance.
She had schemed tirelessly, worked hard to win him over, never imagining her efforts would be wasted—she’d been deceived.
But looking at it now, the outcome wasn’t quite as disastrous as failing at the final step.
That moment of impulsive vengeance seemed to have opened up a new opportunity for her.
Cheng Xueyi’s eyes darkened as she felt that spiritual energy—so achingly familiar it was etched into her bones.
In years past, this energy had always been the source of her suffering. But now, it was warming her, healing her.
As the agony of her devoured heart eased and the cold sweat on her body subsided, she found herself with more attention to spare for observing the person before her.
Shen Nanyin’s trip to Heart-Devouring Valley to perform the spirit-suppression rite had been an order from his Master.
Having lain low in Qiantian Sect for five years, she understood exactly what kind of person he was.
But so what?
She couldn’t be bothered with all those reasons. All she knew was that the ones suffering were her family, her friends, and herself.
Among the demonic race, there were surely those who had done great evil and deserved punishment—but were there truly no wicked people among the human race either? The demonic race and the human race weren’t so different. It was just that one group had been condemned wholesale, sealed away in Heart-Devouring Valley, their fate even more miserable than that of the demon-beast race.
So be it.
She didn’t expect people who were forever preaching that “those not of our kind must have different hearts” to ever put themselves in the demonic race’s shoes.
After all, even a saintly figure like Shen Nanyin personally carried out the torment with his own hands.
Whatever compassion or righteousness he held, it was extended only because, for now, Cheng Xueyi wore the identity of a human cultivator.
If he knew that the woman sitting before him was actually a member of the demonic race scheming to seize the White Marsh Chart and break the seal on Heart-Devouring Valley, he would surely turn on her at once and strike her down without hesitation.
Cheng Xueyi suddenly let out a small laugh. Shen Nanyin happened to withdraw his hands at that exact moment, his gaze landing on her face, where the trace of laughter still lingered. The instant their eyes met, he heard her ask a question. — B L A C K L O T U S Translation — BLACK LOTUS NOVEL
“If it had been someone else who didn’t come collect their qi-replenishing pill today, would Eldest Senior Brother have gone to the trouble of delivering it himself as well?”
Cheng Xueyi suddenly leaned forward, her gaze burning as she stared at him. “If you saw another junior sister injured, would Eldest Senior Brother also stay behind like this to heal her?”
Shen Nanyin lowered his eyes, looking at the woman’s breath, so close it nearly touched him.
Cheng Xueyi’s rather delicate nose was separated from his by barely the width of a finger.
Her breath carried a faint, sweet fragrance, one that made him think of peach blossoms—and from there, of Peach Blossom Intoxication.
Powerful as the effects of Peach Blossom Intoxication were, they weren’t nearly enough to make Shen Nanyin lose control so thoroughly as to be utterly undone.
He could maintain his reason even under the drug’s influence; even his body’s instinctive responses were not beyond his control.
Cheng Xueyi suddenly leaned in a little further. The silver bell that always hung at her waist gave a crisp chime, and Shen Nanyin’s whole body went rigid, jerking backward abruptly.
A smile spread across Cheng Xueyi’s lips. She hadn’t expected a response from him—after all, there wasn’t really anything worth answering in that question; his posture alone had already given her the answer.
But after retreating, Shen Nanyin answered anyway.
Calm and measured, he said, “No.”
Cheng Xueyi paused.
“Your injury is no small matter. Bishui Palace likely couldn’t handle it.”
…Meaning—if it were an injury Bishui Palace could handle, he would simply send her there instead?
Cheng Xueyi didn’t much care about that. What she cared about was the phrase “no small matter” that had come from Shen Nanyin’s mouth.
Ah, right—what a serious oversight. The old wound left by the spirit-suppression rite at Heart-Devouring Valley flared up periodically. Others might not be able to tell what it really was, but how could the very one who’d inflicted it fail to recognize his own handiwork?
Had Shen Nanyin figured something out?
Cheng Xueyi swept her gaze over Shen Nanyin’s face without a flicker of expression. Unfortunately, on that calm, unruffled, achingly handsome face, she couldn’t detect anything amiss.
Her hand unconsciously tightened around the hem of her skirt. Before Shen Nanyin could continue down this line of conversation, she cut in first, shifting the subject.
“So if someone else were mistaken for me, doing all the things I did, would Eldest Senior Brother be just as magnanimous, setting past grievances aside?”
Sure enough, Shen Nanyin swallowed back the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. His gaze shifted away, his chin lifting slightly, and he fell silent.
Cheng Xueyi studied him closely. He wasn’t just beautiful on the surface—his bone structure was excellent too. The way his chin tilted up as he breathed quietly was elegant in every detail. The whole of him seemed gentle and light, like a flower reflected in a mirror or the moon in water—weightless, drifting, deeply soothing to look at.
“If you insist on asking about this,” Shen Nanyin said after weighing his words, “others wouldn’t have been able to get their hands on Peach Blossom Intoxication—and even if they had, they wouldn’t have been able to succeed with it.”
Though Shen Nanyin didn’t guard himself against his sect’s own junior disciples, that day at the Demon-Suppressing Tower, the situation had been urgent. Upon seeing an injured junior sister, all he’d done was leave behind a barrier to shelter and protect her, then send a transmission talisman for someone else to come take her away for treatment—he’d needed to deal with the demon at hand.
That she’d managed to trick him into inhaling Peach Blossom Intoxication had only been the first step of a successful plan.
To truly succeed in her revenge, she needed to bring Shen Nanyin fully under her control.
What she believed to be an unstoppable drug, Shen Nanyin, in truth, hardly registered as a concern.
Even now, some trace of it remained in his body, but it didn’t affect him in the slightest.
He looked at Cheng Xueyi, watching her settle back onto the bed, blinking as she savored his words. She seemed like a delicate wind chime hanging from the eaves, carrying the refined air of purple lavender, her long hair spilling loose, her eyes innocent and guileless—one would never guess that underneath, she was someone capable of such extremes.
Since she kept comparing herself to other junior sisters and using that as a conversational hook, Shen Nanyin decided to simply try the same tactic on her.
“If other junior sisters felt I’d wronged them, they’d march straight to the True Martial Training Ground and demand an explanation, direct and to the point. You’re different from them.”
Shen Nanyin sat there, composed and steady, radiating an almost divine aura, his tone so earnest and well-meaning that it grated on Cheng Xueyi’s nerves.
He said, “I don’t know what Junior Sister Cheng has been through in the past, nor do I wish to investigate and offend you without cause. So I can only advise you to your face—whatever happens in the future, you must not act as rashly as you did this time. Not every outcome will turn out the way you hope.”
“Before I came here, I ran into Elder Gongming.”
Shen Nanyin couldn’t help but recall the chance encounter before he’d set out for Taixuan Palace.
He remembered Cheng Xueyi mentioning that the origin of the Peach Blossom Intoxication was an outer-sect mission gone wrong, where she’d accidentally wandered into the Ghost Market and encountered a great power there. After being rescued by an elder, she’d kept the Peach Blossom Intoxication she’d unexpectedly acquired. · Black Lotus Novel Novel Site | black lotus novel
The elder who had saved that group of disciples happened to be Elder Gongming. Running into him, Shen Nanyin, after exchanging greetings, had casually asked whether the incident had been dangerous and whether it had been properly resolved afterward. Elder Gongming’s account didn’t quite match what Cheng Xueyi had told him.
“Oh, that incident,” Elder Gongming had said. “I filed a report on it—you should have seen it. It was somewhat dangerous, but fortunately one of the outer-sect girls was sharp enough to call for help in time, so Qiantian Sect didn’t suffer any real losses. That great power in the Ghost Market turned out to be a traitor skimming from his own side—the Ghost Market’s people were already hunting him down. All the treasures he’d stolen were recovered in full by the Ghost Market. To thank us for our help, they even gave us two tickets for front-row admission to the next market opening. I gave one to Elder Su, and tucked the other into the report for you. Did you not see it?”
He had seen it.
Shen Nanyin had, of course, received it.
Right in front of Cheng Xueyi, he drew the front-row ticket out of his storage ring and said slowly, “The Ghost Market recovered every stolen treasure in full, without a single item missing, and sent this ticket as thanks.”
Cheng Xueyi’s eyes twitched. She stared fixedly at that fatal ticket, finally regretting her moment of impulsiveness.
Clearly, the real Shen Nanyin was far harder to fool than the fake one had been.
The fake version of herself had been guilty and uncertain, with no mind left to suspect Cheng Xueyi of anything. The real one was entirely different.
Shen Nanyin had found the flaw in her story and laid it bare. So then—what next?
What was his next move?
If he meant to expose her, why bother healing her first?
Did he already know she was a—
Just as Cheng Xueyi braced herself to fight to the bitter end, Shen Nanyin held the Ghost Market ticket out to her.
Cheng Xueyi froze, rarely at a loss.
Shen Nanyin pressed the ticket into her palm, closing her fingers over it one by one.
His hand was warm and dry, large, with a soft palm. Held in his grip, Cheng Xueyi’s cold hand gradually warmed.
She felt a flicker of unease. During the month she’d spent with the fake him, even though they’d spent far more time together at night than they had just now, there had been no physical contact between them then—not even holding hands.
And now, having met the real Shen Nanyin only a handful of times, the instances of skin touching skin were already too many to count.
Cheng Xueyi wanted to pull her hand back. Not long ago, she’d used this very hand to grip him there, tormenting him up and down without letting him find release.
Now, though, she found herself infected by his warmth, and it left her at a genuine loss for how to compose herself.
Shen Nanyin quickly let go of her hand and stood. “When the market opens, bring the ticket in and return what’s left of the Peach Blossom Intoxication.”
Cheng Xueyi was even more stunned.
Hadn’t he just said everything had been recovered in full?
Why was he saying “return” it?
“That mission only succeeded because you called for help in time, saving the lives of several disciples and keeping the losses to a minimum. This is a reward you’ve earned. After you return the Peach Blossom Intoxication, there should still be time left—you can look for treasures in the Ghost Market that help purify spiritual roots or aid cultivation. The spirit stones can go on my account there.”
…He was overthinking this, truly.
She’d only called for help to save her own skin—she hadn’t cared much about the others, beyond not wanting A Qing to get caught up in the trouble alongside her.
Still, getting a reward was better than being exposed. Cheng Xueyi had just let out a breath of relief when she heard Shen Nanyin speak again.
“As for the injury on your body, and the origin of the Peach Blossom Intoxication.”
Shen Nanyin looked at her, his handsome brows slowly drawing together as he frowned faintly. “Life in the outer sect is hard. If you’re determined to advance, there’s a path into the inner sect through proper cultivation—you mustn’t let eagerness for quick results push you toward underhanded methods. The people of the Ghost Market are treacherous and cunning; even with Elder Gongming, they likely didn’t tell the whole truth. If you’ve made any private dealings with them, you need to end it, and soon.”
“You’ve suffered backlash from Qiantian Sect’s cultivation method, but there’s no trace of corrupted, malevolent energy in you yet—you can still turn back. I’ve healed you today and purified your spiritual roots. I hope that from now on you’ll cultivate with a settled heart, without resorting to reckless methods again, and that you won’t act so extremely when facing difficulties.”
With that, Shen Nanyin fell silent. He wasn’t one for lecturing, but he felt that Cheng Xueyi wasn’t in a particularly healthy state, physically or mentally, which was why he’d said a few words more than usual. Once finished, he rose to take his leave, walking out without the slightest hesitation.
The door opened and closed. Cheng Xueyi, ticket still in hand, couldn’t help but let out a scornful laugh.
So this whole healing session had really been about confirming her identity.
Having confirmed she truly was human, with no trace of demonic energy on her, he’d concluded that she simply couldn’t accept being stuck in the outer sect and had turned to underhanded cultivation methods, which had caused Qiantian Sect’s pure cultivation technique to backfire on her?
Hilarious—and not exactly wrong, either. Being tormented by his sect’s technique through the Heart-Devouring rite could, in a certain sense, count as a kind of “backfiring” too.
Well, this worked out nicely. It had been a close call, but she’d made it through—her self-sealed meridians hadn’t been for nothing, and the suffering hadn’t been wasted.
Shen Nanyin really was cautious. He’d claimed he came to deliver some qi-replenishing pill, but in the end, testing her identity had clearly been the real priority.
And at the very end, he’d even warned her against being reckless and extreme, guessing that the Peach Blossom Intoxication had come from some private dealing with the Ghost Market people—which, annoyingly, he’d guessed right.
But the Ghost Market was the Ghost Market—by nature it operated without scruples, and Qiantian Sect, while not entirely afraid to deal with them, still kept a cautious distance. — Black Lotus Novel Novel · Black Lotus Novel
Cheng Xueyi was dirt poor and worked like an ox in Qiantian Sect’s outer sect, with no real chance to enter the actual Ghost Market. That last encounter with their people had been a rare opportunity—she’d caught one of them with incriminating leverage, and had gotten far more out of it than just the Peach Blossom Intoxication. She’d walked away with plenty of other interesting little treasures too.
Shen Nanyin telling her to end it and return things?
Not a chance in hell she’d listen to him.
Cheng Xueyi slowly tightened her grip on the ticket in her hand. The ticket, along with her own hand, still carried traces of his lingering warmth. She frowned, and carried that warmth with her back under the covers.
Though the pain had eased, she was still exhausted. She needed to sleep for a while—she’d need her strength if she was going to accomplish anything big.
She’d barely closed her eyes when she suddenly opened them again, struck by a realization: for all that Shen Nanyin had said, he’d never actually given a straight answer to her very first question.
What had she asked again?
“If it had been someone else who didn’t come collect their qi-replenishing pill today, would Eldest Senior Brother have gone to the trouble of delivering it himself as well?”
He hadn’t answered. Well, so be it.
It didn’t really matter anyway.
At the True Martial Training Ground, Shen Nanyin walked toward the quiet chamber, Cheng Xueyi’s eyes still surfacing again and again in his mind.
He rarely dodged a question. Whatever could be answered, he answered; and when something truly couldn’t be answered, he said so plainly.
For the first time in his life, he had avoided a question.
It wasn’t even a difficult one to answer. He just—for some reason—hadn’t been able to bring himself to say it.
If it had been someone else who didn’t come collect their qi-replenishing pill today, would he have gone to the trouble of delivering it himself as well?
No.
He’d have sent anyone else to do it.
Her situation was different.
Shen Nanyin stood in the center of the training ground—the very place where he had first met Cheng Xueyi.
She had tilted her head up to look at him, demanding to know why he’d met Fu Jinghua at night, why he hadn’t come to see her, why he wouldn’t explain himself.
That vivid, blazing look in her eyes, one that should have seemed perfectly justified, was impossible to forget.
And everything that had happened in the cave that night was something he would remember for the rest of his life.
…
Author’s Note: I long lament that human hearts are not like water — even on level ground, they rise up in sudden waves
