I Really Like the Male Supporting Character (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 32

“Master, I’ve been poisoned with the scarlet lantern flower.”

The young girl’s soft voice, laced with feverish breath and hushed whispers, threaded itself into Lu Cang’s mind. His expression instantly turned to ice as his eyebrows drew together into a frown.

“What exactly happened?”

Ah Luo clung to her master’s puppet form. She knew that the puppet wasn’t the real him, but when she pressed against him, she felt the heat raging in her body inexplicably calming.

Her mind felt foggy and her thoughts were muddled. She curled around him like an octopus, clinging to the coolness that radiated from him. It was her only solace against the fire currently raging within her.

In her dazed state, she felt like a burning flame desperately holding onto an iceberg. 

However, before she could relish in this relief, his cool, jade-like hand pushed her back by the shoulder. He was firm yet careful while distancing her from himself, the icy mountain she’d latched onto.

When she looked up, she saw the puppet Lu Cang gazing down at her. In a cold tone, he said, “Disciple Luoyin, focus. Do you recognize who I am?”

His voice was emotionless and distant, and it held the chill of frost-covered cliffs. It was as frigid and unfeeling as eternal glaciers.

Her vision blurred, and as he moved away, the unbearable heat surged back to engulf her senses. All she wanted was to be close to him, to touch those pale, cool lips… to feel his skin against hers, to melt into him completely.

Lu Cang’s gaze remained locked on her. He took in his young disciple’s condition while he pieced together the events in his mind.

Ah Luo’s loss of control suggested the poison’s effects had taken hold, and given her weakened consciousness and missing belongings, it was clear someone had forced her into this situation in his absence. 

Scarlet lantern flower poison was typically easy to cure outside the hidden realm, but as a puppet, he had no access to such resources, and his main body couldn’t enter to assist her.

The second option was clear. 

He recalled that she harbored affection for that disciple, Gu Xingjue, who was also within the hidden realm, and he could likely help her counter the poison. Though the idea brought an unexplainable frown to his face, Lu Cang dismissed it as anger at the injury done to his disciple.

He offered her his hand and softly said, “Disciple Luoyin, I will take you to find a cure.”

Ah Luo was thoroughly muddled from her fever. She slowly processed his words, and it took her a moment before she finally grasped the meaning behind them.

“Master… how are you going to cure me?” Her voice came out soft, dripping with an unwitting sweetness. Her tone was gentle and full of pleading.

The puppet master’s reply was cold, like an icy splash of water that snapped her out of her trance. “We’ll find that disciple surnamed Gu. I sense him nearby.”

His indifference felt like a ladle of cold water being poured on her. Her head, which was burning from fever, became slightly clearer as her hopes were extinguished.

As she looked at his indifferent, icy eyes, Ah Luo suddenly felt a sense of grief and humiliation washing over her.

The real master had never cared about her, and now even his puppet seemed to show her only indifference to her. Wasn’t this puppet supposed to be hers, devoted to her alone? Shouldn’t it listen to her? 

She was on the brink of death; could she not even have this final wish to be close to him?

The more she thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt. The unexpressed sorrow and bitterness caused her heart to ache. The hurt in her gaze was impossible to ignore, and soon, tears began to trickle down her flushed cheeks.

Her bright, clear eyes seemed to have turned into springs as tears poured endlessly from them. They fell down her reddened cheeks and down to her chin.

A single, hot tear landed on Lu Cang’s fingers, and his hand froze in place.

He was about to rise and take her away but had to halt at the sight of her tear-filled eyes.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. There was an unusual gentleness in his tone. “Just endure it for a moment longer, and I’ll have you cured soon.”

Ah Luo didn’t want to endure it anymore, though, and she shook her head. Her tears flowed freely as she choked out her words, “I don’t want to endure, Master. I’m going to die. Senior Brother Gu can’t save me. No one can help me.”

A flicker of something akin to worry appeared on Lu Cang’s expression as he frowned slightly. “If you feel no such affection, you wouldn’t be suffering this effect from the poison. Who is it you admire? I’ll find them.”

The girl looked up at him with a tearful expression. Her face was filled with a sadness that Lu Cang couldn’t quite understand.

Instead of answering him, she asked, “Master, you said this puppet is mine, and that it’s under my command. Is that right?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Then before I die, grant me one last wish,” Ah Luo whispered. She summoned her remaining strength and said, “Now I order you… don’t move.”

The puppet, which was bound to her will, instantly went still. She had never used her command over him like this until now. All these times, she’d only summon him and put him away.

Astonishment flashed in Lu Cang’s eyes as his body stiffened. He was trapped in place within the pink sea of flowers, and he couldn’t move.

He didn’t expect things to take this turn, so he hadn’t prepared for it. Even though the puppet was his own creation, he couldn’t wrest control back immediately.

Not that he didn’t want to—it was just that, seeing the resolve in her eyes, he felt more perplexed than concerned.

“Will you forgive me?” Ah Luo whispered as she leaned in close. Her small hands cupped his face.

His gaze held a faint trace of confusion. 

In his eyes, Ah Luo saw vast, snow-covered lands and boundless skies but no trace of herself.

Even with her reflection in his eyes, she knew, deep down, that she did not truly exist in her real master’s gaze.

Her own eyes closed as more tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Master, the one I truly long for… is you.”

She held the puppet’s face and leaned forward before gently pressing her feverish lips to his cool ones in a tender, hesitant kiss.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, even though he wasn’t the real master. She knew she was defiling him—blaspheming him, a man who was too sacred to be touched.

So she didn’t see the shock ripple through the puppet’s eyes and the way his pupils shrank.

“Please, don’t hate me. I don’t ask for anything else; if I can die in your arms—even if you’re only a substitute puppet—I’ll feel fulfilled.”

Her soft words floated in his ear as her trembling, feverish hands slipped down from his cheeks.

Her warm and gentle lips lingered on his. Her kiss was careful, as if she was afraid he would vanish at any moment. Her timid, sweet tongue traced his lips and pressed deeper.

On the high cloud platform, Lu Cang’s real eyes snapped open. Their depths were dark and stormy. Within the folds of his robe, he clenched his hands.

It had been nearly a day since the hidden realm opened, and only a few cultivators and ten elders remained on the platform to guard the realm. Others had already left.

Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure enveloped the area. It emanated from the white-robed Daoist. The icy aura blanketed the landscape, freezing everything within a ten-mile radius. Trees, ground, insects, animals—all were encased in ice within mere seconds.

Flurries of snow began to drift down from the sky as if winter had descended in an instant.

Several lower-level cultivators nearly toppled from their clouds in fright, their faces paling under the oppressive force. Some who were meditating jolted awake, frozen stiff, and everyone glanced fearfully toward the white-robed Daoist master.

No one but Lu Cang could have caused such a phenomenon.

The elder beside him grimaced from the cold. He was the first to speak to him, saying, “Martial Nephew Lu, what happened?”

Lu Cang didn’t even look at him. His gaze was fixed on a distant point in the void, and he seemed as if he was in a trance as he answered, “Nothing.”

“Then this…”

“A momentary lapse.” 

After he said that, he lowered his eyes and retracted his aura. He moved his fingertips slightly. Then, a thin mist settled around him and veiled his figure in a hazy shroud of white.

Though the explanation seemed dubious, no one dared question further. Once the pressure subsided, the other cultivators returned their focus to their own affairs.

Only the elderly man beside Lu Cang, who was close enough to see the strain on his face, noticed his rigid posture and the tension in his shoulders. He seemed as if he were enduring something.

At one point, he even heard a low grunt as Lu Cang’s aura rippled, but it was quickly suppressed within the mist. The mis allowed nothing else to leak out.

He wondered if Lu Cang was facing a cultivation mishap or something of the sort, and couldn’t help but worry about him.

Unbeknownst to him, within the mist, sweat dotted the Daoist master’s face as his clenched fists trembled slightly. His black eyes were dark and unreadable, and they were tinged faintly with crimson.

No one else could hear the murmurs reverberating in his ears. He was the only one who could hear the girl’s soft cries echoing in his ears.

“Master… Master… Master…” 

Her voice wove around him. Each of her calls was gentle and pleading, binding him like invisible chains, coiling around his mind and heart.

“Of course, you’re not the real Master… If he were, he’d have pushed me away by now.”

“Please… don’t look at me. It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong, although I know you’re just a puppet… you’re not really him.” 

She pulled the ribbon from her hair and covered his eyes with it. Darkness settled over him.

However, his spiritual sense still saw everything as clear as day.

She was smiling, but tears were also streaming down her face at the same time. Joy and fulfilment filled her gaze, and she seemed as though she had finally gotten rid of all her regrets in this life.

“Even if I’m about to die, I’m so happy… so, so happy. I have you, even if this isn’t real…”

“I love you, Master. I truly love you.” She held him close. Her trembling voice held a mixture of longing and heartbreak. Tears slipped from her cheeks onto his shoulder, and the warm droplets fell on his cool skin, as though leaving searing marks upon his soul. “When I die… will you remember me? You probably won’t. I suppose you’ll forget me quickly…”

“I heard that some masters can retrace the last moments of a person’s life. But don’t look for me. Just keep being the noble, pure Daoist that you are…”

“If only, if only you were truly my master…”

“Master, I feel so tired… In my next life, I want to be your disciple again. Is that okay?”

Outside, Lu Cang’s spiritual sense hovered between the icy chill of reality and the scorching warmth of her embrace. With other disciples and elders nearby, he could show no weakness. But inside the haze, her soft pleas and touch continued to pull him under. He felt as if he had been split in half, and the contrast between the two worlds he was facing nearly made him lose his mind. He fell silent—right now, he could no longer say anything.

In the pink sea of flowers, Ah Luo lay peacefully in the arms of the puppet Lu Cang. She had finally succumbed to her exhaustion and had fallen asleep with tearstains still on her face. Her pink dress and his snow-white robes were scattered around them while her body nestled against him.

He moved slightly to gently brush her soft hair. He didn’t look at her but instead stared off into the endless blue sky. As he did, his dark gaze was deep and unreadable.