Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 31

Between life and death, Zhuoxue didn’t even have time to hesitate, let alone be polite with Longming. She immediately called out Longming’s name.

The waters of the Yellow Spring were truly different—when draped over the body, they were as heavy as a thousand pounds. Below, an invisible force pulled at her, as if it would not rest until it dragged her to the bottom. If this Yellow Spring Palace had been built in the mortal world, the riverbed would surely be littered with corpses.

Thankfully, after swallowing the water spirit, the pain that had felt like her flesh being carved away vanished. Now, being submerged in the water only felt cold.

“Open your eyes.” Longming, entangled by both arms and legs, couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath. Right in front of her was the pale face of a fox. Seeing the soaking wet fox about to come up close, she tilted her head back to avoid it, and said with composed calm, “The water spirit is inside you, there’s no need to panic.”

Zhuoxue trembled uncontrollably, her lashes quivering like butterfly wings. Her hair and clothes were soaked through, water droplets on her face pulled slowly down by the force of the river, one sliding right past her lips. She was too caught up in her fear to hear anything clearly.

Hotpot skewers? Where did hotpot skewers come from?

Her cherry lips parted wide as she tried to grab air from elsewhere, and in doing so, she nearly brushed against Longming’s cheek—it looked nearly like a kiss.

Longming lifted a hand to brush away a droplet of water, using the motion to push the fox back.

Who knew why the fox was so scared—scared to the point her lip color had faded. Once the water washed over her, it was as if rouge had been wiped away—pale, yet not lifeless.

Still, Zhuoxue didn’t open her eyes. Even being pushed back, she kept inching forward, relentless. If not for her shivering, it might’ve seemed like she was being deliberately forward.

But in her heart, Zhuoxue didn’t see mouths touching as improper. Being improper, in her mind, meant grabbing someone’s butt.

Back on Qiufeng Ridge, Lanhui used to pat the butts of unawakened kittens who mewled nonstop, saying it would comfort them for a while.

At the time, Lanhui said it was only acceptable for creatures without spiritual awareness. If done to anyone else, it would be lewd and disgraceful—and grounds for being expelled from the mountain.

Now, terrified to the point her soul had flown a hundred miles, Zhuoxue dazedly tried to count how many improper thoughts she’d had. Tracing them back, all her wicked thoughts had been because of Lanhui—even if she had misunderstood.

“The water spirit won’t let you suffocate,” Longming said at last, pressing an index finger to Zhuoxue’s forehead, pulling her scattered thoughts back to the present. She added, “Try opening your eyes. Right now, half your body is above water. Unless the Yellow Spring floods the Heavenly Palace, it won’t drown you.”

The fox clinging tightly to her stopped struggling all of a sudden. After a long while, Zhuoxue slowly lifted her left eyelid, then the right.

So she hadn’t drowned after all. She had been scared out of her mind for nothing.

She wasn’t completely clueless in water—if asked to swim, she could at least paddle a few feet using her limbs. But this wasn’t an ordinary river or lake. This was the Forgetfulness.

Looking more closely, she saw Longming standing perfectly still in the water—not moving her arms or legs—as if there were something solid beneath her feet.

Zhuoxue let out a long sigh. Only now did she realize that her legs were tightly wrapped around Longming’s waist. That waist was strong and firm, supporting her without buckling in the slightest. Their robes floated freely in the water, drifting like fishtails. That invisible force had failed to pull them down—it seemed it meant no harm.

“What were you doing, inching up to me like that?” Longming asked, half-smiling.

Zhuoxue quickly gave herself an excuse. “I was afraid you’d drown. I was going to give you air.”

Who knew who the one crying for help earlier really was?

Longming, kindly not exposing her, just said, “Your heart was in the right place. But no need for mouth-to-mouth. You can let go now.”

“Nice waist,” Zhuoxue complimented, so Longming wouldn’t be upset about the effort. She didn’t dare let go completely. She first slowly lowered one leg—if she couldn’t feel solid ground, she absolutely wouldn’t lower the other.

Suddenly, a gust of wind came from afar, sounding like ghostly wails.

Longming said coldly, “Hide.”

“How?”

Zhuoxue hadn’t yet figured things out when she felt Longming’s body slowly sinking—she was clearly descending into the water!

Step by step, calm and steady.

Zhuoxue didn’t have time to close her eyes before she was completely submerged.

It wasn’t total darkness in front of her, but it wasn’t bright either. She could vaguely see ripples reflecting onto her body, as if her clothes had taken on the same shimmer as Longming’s robes.

Holding her breath and staying still, Zhuoxue met Longming’s gaze. Dangling one leg uneasily, she wasn’t sure if she should start paddling with her hands and feet.

Breathe, Longming mouthed, water ripples shimmering across her enchantingly striking face. If Zhuoxue hadn’t been so close, she might have thought the great demon before her was just an illusion.

She tentatively inhaled and discovered the water spirit really worked. Whether she breathed in or out, she wasn’t choked by the water at all.

“If I have the water spirit in me, can I move freely through rivers, lakes, and seas outside of the River of Forgetfulness too?” Zhuoxue spoke openly, never having imagined that a land-dwelling fox like her could one day turn into a fish of the water.

“Never tried it, but most likely,” Longming replied.

Zhuoxue smiled. When she lifted her hand, ripples spread through the water, and the shifting light patterns on Longming’s face changed with it—strange and dazzling, like a figure in a dream.

The shimmering light of the water formed a veil, blurring Longming’s expression and making her seem even more mysterious and unreadable.

Zhuoxue watched with growing fascination—then suddenly caught a faint cool fragrance. It must’ve been Longming’s scent—like her, cold and crisp, yet not sharp or overpowering. It was like a butterfly brushing over her heart, fluttering past in an instant.

Both demons were completely soaked, immersed in the river. This wasn’t the shore, so there was no dryness or comfort to be found.

Their garments clung to their bodies like cicada wings—now that they were pressed together, it was hardly different from being completely unclothed and holding each other.

Stories from the mortal world often featured scenes of passion in the water, but the descriptions in those books were never detailed—she hadn’t learned anything useful from them.

Thinking this, Zhuoxue let out a soft breath—this time not from fear.

“Your other leg,” Longming prompted.

Zhuoxue’s ears flushed red. She quickly dismounted from Longming, no need for further urging.

“How is it—can you stand steadily?” Longming asked.

To Zhuoxue’s surprise, when she placed both feet down, it really felt like solid ground beneath her. Her limbs just felt slightly heavier than usual. It wasn’t that she had suddenly become skilled in water—she had become one with the water spirit itself, able to move freely through the river at will. Looking up, she could see the dark surface of the water above. The floating ripples were like a barrier of demon magic, sealing her and Longming within.

Zhuoxue stared in a daze. She lifted the hem of her dress, her jade-like legs moving through the water. The silver bells at her ankles swayed, but their light ringing was muffled in the depths. She had heard that in the Dragon Palace, waves rolled endlessly, yet nothing inside was disturbed by them. It must be just like this.

“Walk a few more steps—you’ll get used to it,” Longming said, turning to leave.

Behind her, the fox lowered her voice like a thief and asked, “Talking like this—won’t we be overheard?”

“No matter. The Forgetfulness drowns out all sound. Ten feet away, there’s nothing but silence,” Longming replied calmly.

“Ten feet?” Zhuoxue quickly calculated and moved closer, afraid that if she lagged even a step behind, she wouldn’t hear Longming anymore. She got so close that her chest nearly touched Longming’s back, not even worrying about stepping on her shoes.

Longming had just been about to ask, Are you hard of hearing?, when she remembered—this fox really was.

She paused. The fox bumped squarely into her back. She decided not to say anything.

Holding up her skirt, Zhuoxue asked again, “When river currents in the mortal world surge, water can travel ten feet in a breath. Why doesn’t Forgetfulness have waves?”

As she spoke, a stream of tiny bubbles slipped past her lips. Her eyes flicked toward them, and she let go of her skirt to reach out and catch them.

Longming gave a faint smile. “Forgetfulness has no wind or waves. Only when immortal guests from Yaojing come to admire the flowers does the King of the Underworld stir the waters with spellwork, letting boats ride the waves.”

“Have the flowers already withered? There’s not a blade of grass along the way—it doesn’t seem like a place where flowers could even bloom,” Zhuoxue said in surprise.

“The flowers are inside the Yellow Spring Palace,” Longming replied.

So familiar—Zhuoxue turned her head in suspicion. “This isn’t your first time here?”

Longming’s eyes were still crimson. Now shrouded in ghostly aura, her expression darkened slightly, and her gaze became like clouds blotting out the sun. Not exactly menacing or gloomy, but cold and distant enough.

“I’ve been here a few times,” she said calmly.

Zhuoxue couldn’t think of any other reason and blurted out, “You came looking for Princess Jueguang’s reincarnation?”

So persistent—truly obsessed. It had to be someone etched into her heart, someone she simply couldn’t forget. A person like that couldn’t be easily replaced. 

She’d been careless—thankfully, she no longer had any inappropriate thoughts about Longming.

The fox puffed up her cheeks and blew a long string of bubbles. But the bubbles floated off too quickly, and she couldn’t catch a single one.

“I searched a few times. Couldn’t find her, so I let it go,” Longming said as she slowly walked along the River of Forgetfulness.

“Just gave up like that?” Zhuoxue was skeptical. “Then what was the water spirit in the tree for—just for fun?”

“The water spirit was drawn too often—it had to be sealed inside the old locust tree for emergencies,” Longming explained.

Zhuoxue grumbled to herself, What a load of nonsense. And she even claimed she didn’t have that kind of feelings for Princess Jueguang.

The tiger is blind to its own obsession, while the fox sees clearly from the side.

***

They ascended along the Yellow Spring, and the wails of ghosts grew louder, making Zhuoxue’s back break out in chills.

The water of the Yellow Spring was darker than ink. Walking within it, she could neither see where they came from nor where they were headed—only faint ripples, and not even a sense of how far they had traveled.

Zhuoxue didn’t dare to speak anymore and followed closely behind Longming, step for step.

Longming walked leisurely and said calmly, “Up ahead is the Meandering Grounds.”

Zhuoxue looked forward. Within ten feet, she could faintly make out the shadows of ghosts. The River of Forgetfulness was no longer silent—ghosts churned and thrashed in it, sending up splashes everywhere.

Some ghosts were even suspended upside down, their hollow, lifeless eyes staring straight at her, scaring her into freezing on the spot. Countless legs flailed and thrashed, like upside-down seaweed, nearly kicking her in the head.

The last time she came, she saw these fierce ghosts from the bank. Back then, she only thought their faces were terrifying and savage. Now, standing at the bottom of the Yellow Spring, watching them struggle endlessly, all she felt was pity.

Longming looked at them coldly and kept walking along the river. “Come.”

Zhuoxue quickly caught up, held her breath, and grabbed onto Longming’s sleeve. She glanced up once, then lowered her head immediately—she didn’t want to get kicked in the head by those ghosts.

Further ahead, an invisible pressure pressed down on her skull. Cold, sharp gazes swept in from all directions, like they could split mountains and walls, shaking everything around them.

Fear gripped Zhuoxue so tightly she could barely move. Luckily, she was still holding on to Longming’s sleeve. When Longming took a step forward, she followed, like drifting with the current. The flowing demonic power from Longming’s robe passed under her fingertips. It wasn’t weaker than the oppressive force of the Underworld King. Though it wasn’t her own power, she felt herself relax in that instant.

But Longming had been right—after her breakthrough, she was no longer as afraid as she’d been last time. That invisible pressure could no longer suppress her.

Suddenly, a brilliantly glowing door appeared before them, covered in runes, with carvings as sharp as axe blades. If one touched it, their skin would likely split open.

“The Yellow Spring Palace gate,” Longming raised her arm, her palm hovering in front of the bronze door. “It blocks the ghosts from entering.”

“Isn’t this door supposed to open when one is ready to reincarnate?” Zhuoxue wondered. Last time they came, Granny Qian had passed through without issue.

“You need the Black and White Impermanence to guide the way—only then can the passage be smooth,” Longming said, brushing her fingers over the carvings without getting injured at all.

Looking closely, the door’s glow came from thousands upon thousands of water spirits. A single one meant little, but gathered together, their brightness rivaled the full moon.

The water spirits gently supported Longming’s palm, preventing her from being harmed by the carved runes. In truth, Longming wasn’t rubbing the patterns on the door—she was merely making contact with the many water spirits.

Zhuoxue still felt a lingering fear. Luckily, she hadn’t recklessly tried to charge through the gate last time. If she’d only ended up with a bump on her head, that would’ve been fine—but if she’d lost her head entirely, she wouldn’t have lived to see these past days.

“Then how are we supposed to get through the gate?” she asked. Other than breaking it down, she couldn’t think of any other method.

Longming turned slightly. “With water spirits here, why worry about getting in?” With that, she took hold of Zhuoxue’s slender arm and, before Zhuoxue could react, gave her a silent, gentle push.

The narrow gap in the door wasn’t even as thick as a sheet of paper. And yet, such a gap couldn’t block the River of Forgetfulness, and naturally couldn’t stop the water spirits either. In the blink of an eye, Zhuoxue passed through the gate—only to be blinded by a sudden burst of light.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes, fumbling around in alarm, unsure where Longming had gone.

So light could shine through the River of Forgetfulness after all—though what reflected on the water wasn’t lamplight, but eerie green ghost fire.

Longming came through the gap as well and lightly patted Zhuoxue’s arm as it flailed in confusion. She said, “This is the Yellow Spring Palace. Walk five kilometres further and you’ll reach the King of the Underworld’s court. Beyond that lies the cycle of the Seven Reincarnations.”

“Still have to walk ten miles?” Zhuoxue wavered. She didn’t have much talent for music or the arts—what she was best at, in this life, was beating a retreat.