Ordered to Marry by the High King - Chapter 5

“Her name… she never said.” The old lady shook her head. “I actually wanted to ask which immortal had saved me, but the goddess said—it was a heavenly secret.”

Zhuoxue felt a hint of disappointment.

“A heavenly secret cannot be revealed, naturally. So I asked instead if she had a mortal alias in the mortal world,” the old lady smiled. “After all, other immortals traveling the mortal world usually take on new names.”

Zhuoxue’s eyes lit up. “And did she tell you?”

“She only said her surname was Wanqi,” the old lady said with longing. “That’s a royal surname in the Shuyun Kingdom. She must be a kind-hearted princess who attained immortality.”

It hit like a thunderclap.

What kind of demon would take a human surname? On Lingkong Mountain, the only demon who might willingly share a surname with humans was that one. And it wasn’t just any human surname—it was Shuyun Kingdom’s royal name. Like a mustard seed falling through a needle’s eye—it was too much of a coincidence. Who could it be, if not Longming?

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear?” Zhuoxue couldn’t even force a smile. She didn’t dare seek her out anymore—she could barely retreat fast enough. Dazed, she wondered: did that tiger demon really look like the figure in the painting? Was she truly that kind-hearted?

Could it be… Aunt Lan hadn’t been lying?

But then again, rumors don’t appear from thin air. All that talk about her being cruel and murderous must have come from somewhere. Surely it was because her true nature showed itself, and the other demons dared to spread it?

“I couldn’t have misheard!” the old lady said firmly. “If the goddess hadn’t stepped in, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

Zhuoxue still couldn’t believe that tiger demon was kind-hearted. Most likely, if it hadn’t been a human disturbing her peace, she wouldn’t have shown such mercy. Right—if she had taken a human surname, then she must have had a heart for humans too. Still, what madness had possessed a tiger demon to share trousers with a human?

Incredible. Truly incredible. There was a demon in this world who was even closer to humans than she was.

But the word close—she wouldn’t dare say it in front of Lanhui. If she did, Lanhui would probably try to cure her of hysteria.

Zhuoxue muttered, “Since she shares a surname with the royal family of the mortal world, she must’ve been to the capital before. Isn’t that fate? But I just don’t know… whether that fate is good or bad.”

Funny enough, she had gone to the capital in her dreams too—and had seen a white tiger. Only, the white tiger in her dreams had no wings and didn’t have red eyes.

“I’ve never been to the capital in this life,” the old lady sighed longingly. “I’ve heard it’s a place of luxury and warmth. Once you go, you never want to leave. I’d like to see it for myself.”

Zhuoxue had come back to her senses. She couldn’t help but glance at the painting again and then pouted. “You’re already a ghost. When you were alive you couldn’t go, but now that you’re dead, what’s stopping you?”

“How would I go?” the old lady murmured.

“Float there. It’s not like floating takes effort.” Zhuoxue rose lightly into the air, her form as weightless as a ghost. “There are blessings in life and wonders in death. This time, when you travel ten thousand miles, you won’t even get tired.”

The old lady smacked her forehead. “Ah, you’ve reminded me. This is my first time being a ghost—I forgot I could float!”

“Then are you going to the capital or not?” Zhuoxue was genuinely curious. After all, they had seven days with nothing to do.

“I’m not going.” The old lady shook her head.

“But didn’t you just say you wanted to?” Zhuoxue asked, frustrated.

The old lady turned to look out the door, listening to the mournful funeral music, and sighed. “These younger generations may not know how to honor the dead, but every brick here… I laid them with my own hands. How could I bear to leave? These seven days are all I have left in this world.”

Zhuoxue could only sit down on the altar, resting her chin in her hands as she studied the bricks outside the door. She had never laid bricks herself, so she didn’t know whether it was hard for mortals. If it were a demon, a flick of the finger and a spell would do the trick.

“Fine then.” She puffed out one cheek. “If you won’t go, then let’s not go.”

“Girl, where are you from?” the old lady asked, eyes full of pity. “So young, and already a ghost like me. I suppose there are many places you haven’t seen—you’ll have to wait for your next life.”

That was a good question—of course, the fox couldn’t say she came from Qiufeng Ridge. Everyone in town knew that place wasn’t meant for the living. If there was anything alive there, it could only be a demon or ghost.

Zhuoxue looked troubled. “I forgot. When I died, I dove headfirst into a mountain hollow and hit my head. I even forgot to wait for the wardens of death. I just wandered… and ended up here.”

The old lady felt even more pity. “Poor thing. Why didn’t a goddess come to save you?”

Please don’t, Zhuoxue thought—no goddess should save her.

***

With the capital trip out of the question, these seven days would have to be endured. Luckily, the old lady was talkative. Probably because no one had chatted with her much while she was alive—now that she had company, her mouth just wouldn’t stop. She started from her youth, telling stories about her early-dead father, an uncle who stole the guardian beast statue from the front door, and her mother, who carried the stone Pixiu statue back all by herself. She spoke of folk tales—of a fox maiden taking the place of a scholar for imperial exams and accidentally winning first place to become a prince consort. She even spoke of the man-eating mist in Qiufeng Ridge, and the mournful singing heard at midnight.

Zhuoxue figured the singing was likely Lishu—the yellow oriole demon loved to sing. But since she had to stay quiet in the cave, she’d only sneak to the edge of Qiufeng Ridge to sing freely once Lanhui was asleep.

Listening to stories here was nothing like hearing tales at a teahouse—those were always stale and boring. She found these tales genuinely fascinating and no longer felt the seven days would be so dull. No wonder that demon lord from the Cangqiong Realm chose to take on a human surname—after eating coarse bran, what were illusions and spells from the Demon Realm worth anymore?

Fortunately, there was no sign of Lishu coming by to tip anyone off. Lanhui likely hadn’t caught on yet. Zhuoxue relaxed and spent all seven days in the courtyard listening to the old lady’s stories—she heard the entirety of the old woman’s life.

Those who came to mourn wept for seven full days too. Everyone who came genuinely cared for the old lady. She had done many good deeds in life—it was no wonder the townspeople couldn’t bear to let her go.

The whole house smelled of incense. The gong clanged as the seven-day mourning period came to an end.

At a quarter past midnight, a sudden gust of ghostly wind swept through the courtyard, scattering ashes into the air.

A dense wave of ghostly energy followed a loud chant into the inner room. Outside, people were still crying and shouting, “Granny Qian, remember the way home! Don’t forget to visit us next year!”

Zhuoxue scoffed silently. These past seven days, Granny Qian hadn’t left the house once—how could she forget the way back?

At least the seven days didn’t feel too long; they passed quickly with all the stories.

But the moment the door burst open, she had a bad feeling. The ghostly aura was too intense—it seemed the Black and White Impermanence weren’t ones to be trifled with.

She reacted swiftly, instantly transforming into a wisp of blue smoke and attaching herself to the old lady’s back, masking her presence in the old lady’s yin energy.

Two ghost messengers, one in black and one in white, entered the doorway. Each held a soul-reaping banner—one read “Peace Under Heaven,” the other, “Wealth Upon Meeting.”

The two bowed low in unison and said together, “Qian Anxiao, time to go.”

“Qian Anxiao is here,” Granny Qian replied respectfully.

“This way, please.” The ghost messengers gestured.

The old lady froze in place, overwhelmed by a tide of reluctance—her soul nearly drowning in it.

“If you don’t move, we’ll have to use the Soul-Locking Chain,” said the Black Impermanence, letting the chain clang ominously to the floor.

“I’ll go, I’ll go.” The old lady wiped away tears and waved, then hesitated. “I have a young friend who wishes to reincarnate as well. Could the two of you perhaps make an exception?”

As soon as she said that, she felt a poke in the small of her back.

The old lady quickly held back more tears and corrected herself, “Oh, never mind. She’s not going anymore. We’ll go on our own.”

The Black and White Impermanence led the way. Each step took them a mile, and the path led ever downward—like some burrower diving deep into the earth, they soon sank into the ground. 

Who would’ve guessed that below the dirt lay a hidden world? And even deeper, a walled city appeared. A dark, silent river could be seen beyond. 

The river was utterly still—like dead water. Souls wandered aimlessly above it, their faces bleak and hollow. Though all that was left of them was a single soul, they still looked as though they had lost it entirely.

“This is the Meandering Grounds. Ahead lies the Nine Springs Palace,” the two ghost messengers said in perfect unison. “If you wish to reincarnate, walk forward. If you’d rather be scattered into nothingness, stay in the Meandering Grounds for three full days.”

The old lady hurriedly bowed in thanks. Only when the wardens had walked far off did she pat the small of her back twice and whisper, “Little girl, we’ve arrived.”

Zhuoxue didn’t dare show herself. The moment she set foot in this place, she felt deeply uneasy—as if eyes from every direction were fixed on her. A powerful, cold pressure loomed over her head—more frigid than the River of Forgetfulness beneath her feet—as though it meant to cleanse all mortal emotions.

The old lady gave her back another pat but still saw nothing. She muttered to herself, “Could it be we got separated? What should I do now?”

Zhuoxue had no choice but to give her a light poke on the back.

The old lady understood. “Is it against the rules, perhaps?”

Zhuoxue poked her again.

The old lady said, “Then let’s sneak in quietly. But think about it—you’re already dead. Coming to reincarnate shouldn’t get you stopped, right?”

Just as the old lady was about to pass through the bronze gate, a wisp of blue smoke drifted out from her lower back and vanished without a trace.

Forget it, forget it—this place is truly terrifying. If I go in and can’t come back out, what will I do then?

Zhuoxue watched as the old lady passed through the gate, then turned tail and slipped back to Qiufeng Ridge. Before she left, she quietly sent a message to Lishu.

The reply came: “Mountain Lord is away.”

Zhuoxue felt a wave of relief. She quickly leapt down through a crevice and rowed her boat forward. Before long, she reached the shore—and there she saw…

There she saw Lanhui again.

The moment she stepped ashore, Zhuoxue instantly transformed into a fluffy little fox and began circling Lanhui’s legs. The fur bristling on the back of her neck gave away all her nervousness.

She hadn’t expected Lishu to betray her one day, and now she had to think of ways to win Lanhui back.

Lanhui said coldly, “Where have you been? You reek of ghostly energy! I told you to face the wall—this is how you obey?”

The fox spoke with a human tongue. “I chased a chicken and took a wrong turn. Blame that chicken! Of all places to run, it went underground!”

“If Lishu hadn’t confessed, I wouldn’t even know you’ve been gone for seven days!” Lanhui flicked her wrist and a ruler appeared in her hand. “What exactly have you been doing these past seven days?”

“St-stealing chickens!” the fox said. “I stole chickens for seven full days! The taste still lingers—absolutely delicious!”

“You shouldn’t stay in Qiufeng Ridge any longer.” Lanhui smacked the fox on the back of her neck with the ruler. “Go immediately to Ninghong Mountain to chūjiā (become a monk). This Qiufeng Ridge can no longer hold a Buddha like you!”

The fox turned back into her human form, sat beside Lanhui’s legs, and looked up sheepishly. “What mountain? Chū—what?”