The Demon Lord and I: Frenemies - chapter 50

Chapter 50

The chill of spring was gradually fading, and the gentle breeze ran wild, painting the shallow blue sky, tinting the tender leaves on the branches green, and brushing the flower buds pink among the grass. The pond had yet to show its emerald lotus leaves and blossoms, but at this moment, it mirrored the clear blue sky, like a bright, lucid mirror reflecting the drifting clouds above.

Beneath the tree, a Female Cultivator in white lay lazily on the ground, legs crossed, gazing at the drifting light clouds, occasionally humming a carefree tune. Beside her lay a chessboard and basket, black and white pieces scattered across the ground, along with several unfolded paper cranes, all left unattended.

Fresh air filled her lungs, bringing an inexplicable sense of clarity and refreshment, even the spiritual energy flowed naturally.

Chu Zaishuang’s eyes were half-closed, letting her Wuwo Sword extend outward from her hands, the blade gently brushing the grass, waving like a ribbon, stirring ripples on the water’s surface, and caressing every plant in the spring.

This was her favorite way to cultivate: no need to speak incantations, no need to rise and practice swordplay. She could simply lie peacefully on the grass, using the sensation of the Wuwo Sword in place of her own perception, breathing and gathering Qi in the quiet, circulating her Dao Heart of both immortal and demonic paths.

No one could see her sword. If anyone passed by, they would only feel the wind, never sensing any killing intent.

She was not one for bravado or conflict, preferring instead to touch all things with spiritual energy, listen to birds landing on branches, observe ants busy moving beneath the thick grass, and inhale the fresh fragrance of flowers blooming after the cold. It was far more interesting than the monotonous Training Ground.

Agile and carefree, utterly at ease.

[The Wuwo Sword is stretching farther, and your perception is becoming more refined!]

Xiao Shi cheered in the Sea of Consciousness, clearly sensing the range of the Wuwo Sword. Not only could it reach distant places, but it could also wrap around things like soft gauze, unlike a real sword’s straight sharpness-more like a whip, ever-changing.

Chu Zaishuang opened her eyes, slowly sat up, and looked down at her palm. “I feel it too. It’s as if I’m about to advance, but I’m always just a step away.”

[This time, once you advance, it’ll be the Five Leaves Initial Stage. You’ll be able to fly on your sword!]

“At last…” Chu Zaishuang sighed deeply, annoyed. “Right now, I can’t fly on my own, so they have to take turns carrying me like a child.”

Ever since she discovered the ancient demonic script in the cylindrical mural years ago, the other half of her Dao Heart had finally begun cultivation. When she first fell in, just a bit of Qi Gathering had pushed her to the Four Leaves Initial Stage, but as she entered and exited the cylinder more often, her progress slowed, becoming as sluggish as a crawling turtle, with little effect for a long time.

Thinking back, her first three breakthroughs were all tied to the Tongtian Tower: the Three Leaves Late Stage came from climbing to the top, the Four Leaves Initial Stage from entering the cylinder. It seemed she had thoroughly exhausted the spiritual energy within the tower.

After leaving the tower, her independent cultivation slowed considerably. She watched as her companions advanced one after another to Five Leaves-even Su Hongli and Li Jingjie could fly on their own swords-while she could only stare helplessly, often feeling inconvenienced.

Though they’d cultivated for about the same number of years, because her Dao Heart was both immortal and demonic, she always lagged behind for no apparent reason, and worrying did no good.

[If it really doesn’t work, let him carry you. He seems used to it and doesn’t mind.]

“Not this again? Didn’t we agree not to mention him?” Chu Zaishuang raised an eyebrow. “Relying on someone else to fly is never as convenient as flying on your own.”

[But if you fly on your own, you’ll have to explain to them how your cultivation advanced to Five Leaves. It’s easier to let him carry you.] Xiao Shi muttered, [How long are you going to keep being so awkward? It’s no big deal, it was just that full moon night when you…]

“Enough-” Chu Zaishuang hurriedly interrupted, glancing around in embarrassment. “Didn’t we say not to bring it up?”

[You’re so obvious, he’ll find out sooner or later!]

“Impossible.” She glanced at the unfolded paper cranes nearby, thinking of someone she hadn’t seen in a long time, feeling a bit guilty. “…Just wish me some luck.”

As long as Fei Wanghuai hadn’t returned, she could keep her head down and play dead, tossing her worries aside and pretending nothing had happened.

Over the years, Chu Zaishuang and Fei Wanghuai had been inseparable in the Lotus Flower Sect. Whenever their respective sect duties allowed, they’d drink tea and play chess together, share Osmanthus Buns, and sometimes team up for tasks. Because of this, Li Jingjie often teased them, saying it was as if they had no other friends, and that even he and Su Hongli were just tagalongs.

At first, Chu Zaishuang hadn’t taken her fellow disciples’ jokes to heart. She continued to banter and bicker with Fei Wanghuai, occasionally sharing her thoughts on idle books, accepting the little trinkets he brought back from his trips down the mountain, meeting under the tree or in the tower to play chess-nothing had really changed from before.
It was not until the full moon night at Lone Star Mountain that she realized she hadn’t received a single reply to her paper crane messages. Curiosity led her up the mountain in search of him, but behind the cold, rocky falls she heard a string of soft, ragged breaths.

Beyond the rocks, water cascaded down his broad, straight back. His thin robe, soaked through, became translucent, outlining a body brimming with strength and skin as lustrous as white jade. He immersed himself completely in the water, thin streams trickling down from his moving Adam’s apple to the backs of his hands, where faint blue veins showed beneath the skin-drop by drop, splashing all around.

Under the moonlit sky, clear water scattered. The usually impeccable and elegantly dressed Male Cultivator, with his silver coronet and neatly tied hair, now had damp black hair tumbling loosely under the cold, silvery glow. Even his dark lashes were wet with droplets, and for a fleeting moment, he looked fragile-no longer the mask of flawless perfection he wore each day.

The thunderous roar of water hid his suppressed moans-yet with the Wuwo Sword, she perceived it all, clear as day.

Even at moments of passion, he was restrained, yet it only lent him a more alluring charm. He was like a god fallen from the clouds, at last tainted by mortal desires. Or perhaps, he was never a god at all-his very essence dangerously seductive, shattering the aloof and gentle façade; in the night, a true Mei, cloaked in daytime dignity, now lured souls with a mere glance.

On the full moon night, his voice grew deep and bewitching, burning in her ears, driving away the chill of midnight.

She forgot whether she had blushed-only that she fled from Lone Star Mountain in a panic, never daring to tell anyone what she had seen. The image of her old friend changed in her mind; he was no longer the Xiao Shi she could treat with casual ease. She had glimpsed his full moon secret, and it branded itself in her heart.

Fei Wanghuai had spoken too soon back then-he thought she wouldn’t care about his bloodline, but she couldn’t forget he was a Mei. Mei draw the unwary under moonlight, just as she was lured by the pond that night.

Those racy phrases in the books-she thought she had long since forgotten them, but the full moon’s vision awakened them again, surging into her mind, even dredging up some of her own once-shadowy, wicked thoughts.

Perhaps she wasn’t as pure as she seemed on the outside; their relationship was always innocent, so she had naturally acted naïve.

But now that he had revealed his impurity, she too was changed, entangled with him like overlapping light and shadow-inseparable.

Luckily, the Wuwo Sword would not give her away; he hadn’t noticed her presence that night.

That was her greatest relief-her hard cultivation had paid off, and her friend hadn’t caught her spying on him bathing.

When Chu Zaishuang collapsed to the ground, dejected and troubled, she silently counted the days, torn: “Help, will I ever be able to forget this? What should I do? Now every time I see him, it feels so strange.”

[It’s not even a painful memory-why would you want to forget?] Xiao Shi offered with easy candor. [If anything, it’s his honor to be seen by you. Just think of it as an inspection of his cultivation results-see if sword training has kept his body in shape. Even Alchemists at Thousand-Gold Peak are always checking people’s bodies!]

“You really know how to make perversion sound novel and refreshing.”

A change of heart brings a change of manner. Chu Zaishuang, who had always been at ease with Fei Wanghuai, now felt awkward with him after the full moon night, their intimacy suddenly called into question. Where once she could joke off any teasing, now she felt unsettled and tried to pull away from him.

But while she wanted to take two steps back, there was someone who wouldn’t allow it.

Soon after, noises rustled from the grassy field nearby. As she lay on the ground, her body tensed; she sensed someone approaching, but couldn’t just spring up and run away.

“Why aren’t you replying to my messages?”

White-robed, wielding a Silver Fan, black hair tied high-the striking young man before her could only be Fei Wanghuai. His lips curled in a faint smile, his tone gentle, yet his dark eyes glinted with a chilly light.

Chu Zaishuang sat up with a start, blinking in feigned surprise: “When did you get back?”

“Just now.” Fei Wanghuai glanced at the paper cranes scattered by the chessboard. Seeing her dodge his question, he pressed on relentlessly: “Why aren’t you replying?”

If he really wished, he could use Soul-Guiding Silver to locate her, but she had no way of finding him. Later, she had suggested using paper cranes for messages. It was a little trinket the four of them picked up at Floating Street; they used them to keep in touch, never for anything important, just idle chatter.

At first, Fei Wanghuai found it rather dull. But seeing them send messages so often, he occasionally folded a couple himself during trips down the mountain, writing a line or two about his recent activities.

Who would have thought she’d start sending him messages for fun, only to stop replying now?

Seeing his expression change, Chu Zaishuang looked away, her voice stiff: “You’re always busy with missions when you’re down the mountain, and you only write a line or two each time. I really don’t know what to say back.”
Every time he sent a message, it was just a line or two-nothing more than the time, place, and task. There was never anything new; she could guess the contents without even opening it.

“So you’re blaming me for this?” Fei Wanghuai questioned. “Didn’t you use to reply with plenty yourself?”

“I’ve just been busy lately and haven’t had the time. There’s too much going on in the Herb Field.” Chu Zaishuang waved her hand, and to show her sincerity, she even held up a paper crane. “Look, I haven’t even replied to my brother’s letter. I haven’t had the chance, and you’re already back.”

After all, her brother always said “it’s no big deal” about everything, and he often replied late too, knowing that the paper cranes weren’t urgent.

Fei Wanghuai was half-convinced but finally stopped pressing the matter, though he was still visibly displeased. As he watched her stand up, her waist cord came loose. He casually reached for the dangling Red Cord, about to pull it tight and braid it, when suddenly the Red Cord was yanked away, slipping straight from his hand.

He froze for a moment, raising his eyes in surprise, not understanding her intention.

Chu Zaishuang snatched back the waist cord, deftly tying a Red Flower Knot, and declared smugly, “I know how to braid it now. Mine are better than yours! Yours just aren’t good anymore!”

He listened to her boast and looked at the Red Flower Knot. “…I don’t see any difference.”

She reached out, pretending to touch him. “Then I’ll make one for you.”

He dodged as expected. “No, that’s childish.”

Seeing him turn away, Chu Zaishuang finally felt a bit relieved to have some distance between them. With her heart still unresolved, those once casual gestures, upon careful reflection, all seemed to carry a hint of ambiguity. She could no longer act as naturally and freely as in her youth, nor could she recklessly wait for him to come close, doing things like tying his belt or wiping his face.

Looking back, she remembered how she would pull at him when excited, only for him to nimbly dodge every time-clearly, he understood the boundaries between men and women better than she did.

The more she recalled, the more guilty she felt. Why did she seem a bit like a rogue?

It was one thing to jokingly call him a good sister, but she really couldn’t treat him as just a Male Cultivator.

Where did things go wrong? Was it because they were always playing chess and talking, communicating heart to heart, that they ignored the differences in their physical bodies?

It had to be said, that moonlit night by the pond had shattered everything; all the vague things from the past were exposed without a doubt.

As she was lost in thought, she suddenly felt her hair bun shift slightly. Startled, she snapped back to attention and whipped her head around.

Fei Wanghuai hadn’t expected such a big reaction from her. He picked a grass leaf from her Drooping Cloud Bun and said calmly, “There was some grass.”

“…Thank you.”

“Are you not feeling well today?” he asked suspiciously. “You seem jumpy.”

“I was just thinking about the sect competition. They say a lot of people will be coming to the island.” Chu Zaishuang hurried to explain. “Did you see any other cultivators when you returned? Is it lively down the mountain?”

“No. They say the island won’t formally open for another couple of days, but the Mortal Dust Marsh has changed a bit-shops are all getting decorated.”

“Then maybe we should go check on the roast duck shop. The shop will probably be extra busy too. I wonder how Aunt Sun is doing.”

“We can go have a look.”

Fei Wanghuai let her change the subject again, and watched as she darted forward, quietly pulling some distance between them. His eyes darkened as he rubbed the grass blade between his fingers, feeling its sharp edges, but said nothing about her unusual behavior.

It had truly been a long time since things felt like this, reminding him of when he first met her-she’d been just as eager to avoid him then, exactly the same as now.

But back then, he hadn’t cared what she thought and had insisted on keeping her at the Lecture Hall. Her dodging didn’t matter. Yet after years of accumulating memories, to return all at once to the starting point seemed inappropriate.

Where did it all go wrong?

Was it just because he’d gone down the mountain recently?

Chu Zaishuang ran ahead while he followed behind, mulling over recent events.

Her hair bun was messy in the breeze, a few playful strands drifting about, as free as ever.

This was his false fellow disciple, his companion of many years, his confidant over chess games and heart-to-heart talks.

This was the person he must, at all costs, kill in this lifetime.

Watching her skipping ahead, Fei Wanghuai found the familiar scene oddly unsettling, as if something vital had been scooped away, leaving him with a strange discomfort.

Was this still…

What was this?

Words could not describe the distance between the two of them in that moment.

His feelings toward her were especially complicated-so much so that if even a small part was lost, he immediately noticed the emptiness in his chest.