Flowing Jade - Chapter 1

I had transmigrated into a melodramatic xianxia novel.

The system sneered inside my head. “If you don’t wake up soon, the protagonist is going to run you through.”

“Junior Brother, your lashes are trembling. Stop pretending. What exactly are you trying to do?” The young man’s voice was as cold as a frost-coated blade.

Something icy and razor-sharp suddenly pressed across my neck, like a summons from the god of death.

I jolted, then pretended to come slowly awake.

A few paces away stood a young man in white, sword in hand. His bearing was refined, his features strikingly beautiful.

If only that sword had not been resting mercilessly against my throat.

If only he had not been looking at me as though I were a dog.

Then I truly might have praised him as an elegant gentleman, as graceful as an orchid and a jade tree.

“Senior Brother, let me explain…” The sword radiated such murderous force that I tried to inch away. The next instant, pain stung my neck, and the faint scent of blood drifted into the air.

I froze. Darkness churned in Ying Fuxue’s eyes. “Stay away from me.”

“What a rotten temper this protagonist has. He draws blood the moment he gets annoyed.” I bristled inwardly, though outwardly I stayed as still as a quail.

“Before you transmigrated, the original host made trouble for his senior brother every day, openly and in secret.”

“He stole his spirit medicines, seized his artifacts, damned him with faint praise, and insulted him through insinuation. His misdeeds were legion.”

“So it’s perfectly normal that he hates you now.”

The system continued, “Your senior brothers and sisters will be here soon. You need to salvage the situation, or this will end badly.”

At that, I hurriedly said to Ying Fuxue, “Senior Brother, I accidentally hurt myself while practicing with my sword. I heard you knew medicine, so I wanted to ask you to examine it.”

Ying Fuxue frowned. “So you left your robes hanging open in broad daylight because you wanted me to examine your wound?”

My instincts warned me something was wrong. The system said, “I’ll share your visual feed.”

The next instant, an ultra-high-definition, three-dimensional image filled my mind.

I was kneeling on the floor, my collar drooping low enough to reveal a broad expanse of snowy shoulder and delicate collarbone.

My black hair trailed behind me and my almond-shaped eyes were red. I looked like a picture of coy invitation.

“Is this even fit for broadcast? Turn it off, quick!” Horrified, I pulled my collar firmly closed. “Was the original host trying to seduce his senior brother?”

“Frame him. He was trying to accuse Ying Fuxue of being a beast in human skin who harbored indecent designs on his junior brother.”

How was I supposed to survive an opening like this?

Cursing inwardly, I pointed to the nearly invisible red mark on my shoulder with an aggrieved look. “You don’t believe me, Senior Brother?”

“How could I?” Ying Fuxue asked. “No one in the entire Zhuoqing Sect is better than you at idling and shirking. When you aren’t sleeping in the library, you’re playing with cats and birds on the back mountain. Since when did you practice swordsmanship?”

“…” I fell silent, then declared shamelessly, “I practice in secret. Your junior brother is terribly slow, after all. I was afraid people would laugh at me.”

“You possess extraordinary talent, Senior Brother. I only wanted to catch up with you as soon as I could.”

Under Ying Fuxue’s skeptical gaze, I lowered my eyes despondently and casually covered the bleeding cut on my neck.

“I didn’t know you hated me this much. If I had known, I wouldn’t have come to bother you.”

“Playing on his sympathy?” the system asked.

“Retreating in order to advance.”

“Is it working?”

Ying Fuxue still stood there, cold as ice, his sword hand perfectly steady.

I rose and pretended to leave.

“Junior Brother,” Ying Fuxue called.

A spark of delight had barely kindled in my heart when he tossed something straight at me.

I caught it in a hurry. It was a deep-purple silk ribbon.

“What’s this?” I asked, baffled.

“A hair ribbon—and the instrument of the crime,” the system said. “The original host took it off to make things more exciting. You can work out how it was meant to be used.”

After a moment’s thought, I thanked my lucky stars it had never come to that and hastily tied up my hair.

I lingered, expecting Ying Fuxue to say something more—perhaps ask me to stay, show concern for his junior brother, and demonstrate some fraternal affection between fellow disciples.

Instead, he merely lifted his thin eyelids and said coldly, “Disappointed your scheme failed?”