Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 29

Her skirt hem was lifted to her knees, like pear blossoms piling atop snow. The fox’s tail seemed not to be a part of her—it swayed restlessly while she tried furiously to catch it. But Zhuoxue could only hold onto half of it. She couldn’t keep the other half in place no matter how she tried. After all that effort, it was all in vain—she was flustered and frantic.

The tail tip wagged on endlessly, as if gloating about something. Enraged, the fox lunged and tried to bite it, only to end up with a mouthful of fur.

A tuft of white fur clung to her cherry-colored lips. Zhuoxue spat furiously, then shouted, “Stop moving already! Disobedient tails suffer the consequences. If you snap your tailbone in a moment, you’ll be the one in pain!”

But the big tail kept wagging. Zhuoxue twisted her head left and right in a panic, but even the tip of the tail was out of reach now, her head flopping around like a bobblehead for nothing.

Zhuoxue shouted again, “You’ve only been away from home for half a day and you’re already this wild. Without me, who else would treat you like a treasure?”

Longming turned her head, momentarily speechless. All she saw were snowy fox hairs flying everywhere, as if winter had suddenly arrived on Lingkong Mountain.

Zhuoxue was in full panic, letting out a drunken hiccup before finally crying for help, “Longming! Wanqi Longming, why won’t this tail obey me?!”

Emboldened by alcohol, she even called Longming by full name—completely unreserved.

Longming froze at the sound. She had still been feeling somewhat helpless, but the way her name was shouted into her ear instantly unraveled her composure.

Wanqi.

She had indeed given herself a mortal surname, but no one had ever addressed her like this. It made the whole act feel like a self-deceiving farce.

“Come teach it a lesson for me!” Zhuoxue called again.

After a moment, Longming let out a quiet chuckle and stepped forward, catching the tip of the fox’s tail right in her hand. This time, no matter how much the fox flailed, the tail tip couldn’t escape her grasp.

“So why is it listening to me?” Longming asked with a smile.

Flushed from the wine, Zhuoxue tilted her head to look back and could just make out Longming’s ink-painted silhouette. She exclaimed, “Did someone swap it? Is this not my tail but yours?”

Longming had never seen a demon act like this after drinking the aged tribute wine. Other demons either sobered up completely or fell into a deep sleep—not like this fox, who seemed to be playing gleefully with herself. She went along and asked, “Then why haven’t you returned my tail to me?”

Hearing that, Zhuoxue actually sat up and began yanking the tail like mad. After a long while, when it didn’t come off, her eyes welled up and she cried, “Why does it hurt so much? This tail—this tail—”

“What about the tail?” Longming asked.

Zhuoxue fumbled around, her hands feeling behind her. She twisted around to try and get a better look, but couldn’t see it.

A moment later, she looked up in shock, panic written all over her face. “Longming, why is your tail growing out of me? Call it back at once!”

That enormous fox tail clearly didn’t belong on a tiger.

But the sober tiger was no match for the drunk fox—Longming couldn’t very well call it back. She snorted, “Well then, I’ll just gift it to you. You couldn’t find your own tail anyway.”

“How could that be okay? Without a tail, how will you keep your balance when walking? If the Nightmare Clan invades, I won’t be able to carry you on my back!” Zhuoxue was sweating with worry.

“I can walk just fine without a tail,” Longming replied.

“No way,” Zhuoxue declared indignantly. “I’ll sever ties with it completely!” She suddenly raised her arm, five fingers forming a knife-hand as if ready to slice the tail. She was determined—even began to gather her demon energy, a faint mist forming in her palm.

Longming was momentarily speechless. As the fox was about to bring her hand down on the tailbone, Longming calmly sent out a burst of energy.

The energy knocked Zhuoxue’s hand away. She didn’t give up. Instead of raising her arm again, she caught the tail off guard with a sudden move. It was impossible to guard against.

Just as Zhuoxue was about to celebrate, she let out a terrible wail. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, “How can it hit your body but hurt in my heart?!”

“It hit your body and hurts in your body,” Longming said helplessly, leaning in to hold Zhuoxue’s waist and keep her from moving. She gently channeled demon energy from her palm to mend the broken fox tail back in place.

Zhuoxue’s waist went soft, and she collapsed onto the bedding. Her lowered face seemed to blush with rouge, and her ears burned redder still.

Longming thought the fox had finally fallen asleep. She raised her hand and placed her palm gently on the back of Zhuoxue’s head, intending to dispel the remaining alcohol.

But unexpectedly, the fox let out a soft little hum—it sounded almost like a moan. The sound was featherlight and fleeting, impossible to pin down. It made Longming’s ears itch, but she couldn’t tell if it had been a paw’s scratch or a brush of fur.

She paused for a moment, then continued dispelling the drunkenness.

But suddenly, the fox flipped over, revealing half her flushed, drowsy face. Her light-colored eyes stared fixedly at Longming.

“I’ve dispelled half your drunkenness. You should be halfway sober by now.” Longming’s expression didn’t change.

Zhuoxue said nothing. She simply clutched Longming’s hand, pulling the whole arm into her embrace, just like that moment in the spring.

Longming was suddenly tugged without warning. Caught off guard, she nearly lost her balance and had to free a hand to steady herself on the bed, slightly bent. Her silver hair spilled across the bedding, drifting gracefully like a mountain spring filled with cold, brushing past the fox’s cheek.

“Why am I in the water? I want out! I want out!” Zhuoxue kicked her legs, flailing wildly on dry land.

Her drunkenness hadn’t been fully dispelled yet. Longming had no choice but to hold down Zhuoxue’s kicking legs.

Zhuoxue’s eyes were half-closed. The frustration on her face melted away, and she let out a long, contented sigh. Who knew where that sense of comfort came from?

Longming understood.

She silently sat down and didn’t push Zhuoxue away.

Zhuoxue, dazed and muddled, began to murmur intermittently, “Jueguang… Jueguang…”

Longming was slightly taken aback, not knowing why the fox was calling Jueguang.

The drunken fox slurred on, “Even if Jueguang is wonderful, she’s still someone you, big tiger, can never have. Your long-cherished wish will never come true. How pitiful. If—if I were Jueguang, I’d make sure to leave you with nothing but false hope.” She stammered on, one sentence after another.

Longming’s face turned slightly cold, even if these were just a fox’s rambling drunk words. She withdrew her arm, leaned in close, intending for the drunken fox to hear her clearly. But when she spoke, her voice instinctively softened a bit.

“My feelings for Jueguang aren’t what you imagine. And Jueguang is peerless under heaven—utterly irreplaceable.”

But Zhuoxue couldn’t understand. Feeling the emptiness in her arms, she gave Longming a couple of weak pushes, sobbing, “So what if she’s peerless? I’m peerless too! My tail became a tiger’s tail—one of a kind in the world!”

Longming sighed softly. In her heart, she thought: Jueguang would never act like this.

Jueguang was the dignified princess of Shuyun. No matter how innocent or lively she was, she would never be this unruly—nor reveal such an expression.

“Tomorrow I’ll build a tomb for my lost tail. Who agrees with me?” Zhuoxue threw an arm over her face, covering her tear-brimmed eyes, a picture of heartbreak and despair.

“I agree.” Longming didn’t bother arguing with a drunk fox.

She patted Zhuoxue’s hair lightly to dispel the alcohol smell and said calmly, “Go to sleep.” She gently patted the top of the fox’s head, dispersing the remaining wine fumes, and said calmly, “Sleep.”

Zhuoxue’s eyelids fell heavy, and she drifted off to sleep with tears still in her eyes. Once the drunken haze dispersed, she slipped quietly into a dream.

The candlelight flickered atop the holder, casting the silhouettes of two lonely figures.

Only after a long while did Longming pull down Zhuoxue’s arm that had been draped across her face, and gently tucked a corner of the brocade quilt into her arms—no longer caring how disheveled the blanket looked.

The candle was blown out.

***

In her dream, Zhuoxue wandered. She passed through a desolate wilderness littered with corpses, seeing rows of ragged beggars.

Then, a city of gold and jade rose before her. Shouts rang through the air—sounding like tens of thousands of people clamoring within the walls.

She followed the voices, only to be startled still by the sound of shattering porcelain.

Crash.

Someone cried, “It’s the plague! Princess Jueguang has caught the plague!”

Zhuoxue’s heart was in chaos. She remembered what Longming had once said—that Jueguang had died from a plague. Yet she still couldn’t see Jueguang. All she saw was a pale hand slowly rising, index finger pointing forward.

At her side, a maid with a cloth over her face leaned close and nervously asked, “Princess, what do you want?”

“Hanxing.”

It was the name of the white tiger.

The maid frowned deeply. “But His Majesty said…”

“Hanxing,” Jueguang said again.

“Let the white tiger in.” The matron beside her gave a slight shake of her head. “If His Majesty asks, don’t say a word. I’ll explain.”

The maid pressed her lips together and nodded, then stepped away quietly and softly opened the hall doors.

The white tiger lay outside in a guardian’s posture. It glanced at the maid with cold eyes, as if understanding, then rose and stepped into the hall unhurriedly.

It stopped beside Jueguang’s bed, its tail flicking uneasily.

Jueguang couldn’t sit up, so she simply placed her hand on the edge of the bed, letting the white tiger sniff her fingertips.

“I’m ill.” Jueguang’s voice was faint, barely a whisper.

But the white tiger was no human—how could it respond?

Jueguang looked up at the canopy and spoke calmly to herself. “My body’s been worsening. Now I’ve caught the plague. I fear I don’t have much time left.”

A low growl rumbled in the tiger’s throat, as if it understood.

“When do you plan to leave? You were covered in wounds when I saved you, but now you’re fully healed. Those hunters can’t threaten you anymore.” Jueguang’s words slurred, and with that, she fainted.

The dream ended abruptly. Zhuoxue jolted awake, clutching the corner of the quilt. For a moment, she thought she was still trapped in that infernal human world.

It took nearly half a moment before she suddenly let go—and only then realized what she’d been holding just now wasn’t her fox tail.

Huh?

Zhuoxue blinked. What had she done last night, and how had she gotten back? She definitely ate meat. She also made a number of new demon friends. And the aged tribute wine… 

She drank quite a bit of that too.

Then, the events of last night surged into her mind like a flood: looking for her tail, clinging to someone’s arm—she hadn’t remembered a thing. Even that heat of the moment—brought on by the season—had gone off in her chest like a bomb. 

Her ears buzzed like firecrackers popping everywhere, making her fidget with anxiety. She was doomed. Absolutely mortified!

“And now, do you remember who I am?” A cold voice cut in beside her ear.

How could Zhuoxue say she didn’t remember? She nearly curled into a fox ball and rolled off the bed.

Luckily, she restrained herself—otherwise the chamber would be covered in fox fur again.

She discreetly reached behind her for her tail but didn’t feel a thing. With a stammer, she said, “Mighty Demon Lord, please be magnanimous. I had too much tribute wine last night—none of what I said should be taken seriously.”

Longming looked at her unhurriedly and said coolly, “You were drinking like it was spring water—how could you not get drunk?”

Zhuoxue didn’t dare meet her eyes. She kept her gaze low, focused timidly on her knees. “Back in the mortal world, I could drink a thousand cups without falling. Besides, no one said the aged tribute wine couldn’t be drunk in excess.”

“You’re sober now?” Longming asked.

Zhuoxue nodded gloomily.

“Then I’ll be settling the account with you.” The silver-haired great demon leaned lazily against the table, her gaze calm and detached.

“Settling what account?” Zhuoxue’s mind raced through countless possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

Longming said slowly, “I told you not to leave my side. Yet yesterday you roamed about idly. That’s the first offense.”

“I wasn’t idle! And besides, you told me to go to the kitchen and eat meat. You set the trap, and now you’re blaming me?” Zhuoxue felt wronged. “If there’s a second offense, it cancels out the first.”

“Then I’ll admit fault too,” Longming said with a faint smile. “But what were you so busy with yesterday?”

Zhuoxue replied, “I admired the mountains and rivers, greeted everyone I met, served tea and poured drinks at the banquet, ate meat and drank wine, and even helped spread the Leaf Order.”

“Quite capable, aren’t you?” Longming praised, though clearly without sincerity.

Zhuoxue let out a vague grunt of agreement.

Longming continued, “Since the Leaf Order is already spread, why don’t you go out too?”

“Huh?” Zhuoxue could only slide off the bed. Either way, she was too embarrassed to keep facing Longming. Barefoot, she stepped onto the chilly floor tiles, asking cheerfully, “How far out counts as ‘going out’?”

Longming motioned with a nod toward the door.

Zhuoxue still felt a little indignant. She looked back and said, “Just now you scolded me for wandering around, and now you want me gone? So fickle! Are you planning to sneak into the Yellow Spring Palace and play White Impermanence—or Black Impermanence?”

Longming was silent for a moment, then spoke in a level tone, “Last night, you were disrespectful to Jueguang.”

“That serious?” Zhuoxue was stunned. So, someone who revered Jueguang like a goddess wasn’t just the citizens of Shuyun Kingdom—it was you too, big tiger.

The silver-haired demon’s expression didn’t change.

Fine, then. The fox had wanted some fresh air anyway. This actually suited her just fine. As she walked out, she counted on her fingers—two more days left of the demon banquet. After that, wouldn’t Longming be begging her to go to the Yellow Spring Palace?

***

Two days later, the gathering came to an end. The demons soared on clouds or rode in palanquins, colorful sleeves weaving into rays of sunset as the last light disappeared into the horizon. Demonic aura thinned like mist in the sky. Lingkong Mountain returned to its tranquil, lonely stillness. The feast had drawn to a close.

Zhuoxue yawned atop a tree, watching as Qiurou saw off the last guest. Only then did she lazily glance toward the main hall.

The doors were slightly ajar. From within emerged the silver-haired demon lord in ink-black robes, who said calmly, “It’s time to depart.”

Still perched in the tree, Zhuoxue didn’t budge. She drawled, “Can’t hear you. What did you say?”