Haven't Been a Senior Sister for Many Years - Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Lying
On the third day of Leng Junzhu’s coma, Chu Zhiqin was overwhelmed with anxiety.
She began blaming herself—why had she left Leng Junzhu alone outside the small building? If she hadn’t, Leng Junzhu wouldn’t be lying unconscious in bed now.
Unable to bear it any longer, Chu Zhiqin asked, “Why hasn’t she woken up yet?”
Hualing rolled her eyes while stroking the spirit fox and replied irritably, “How would I know?”
“But what are you going to do now? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the demonic aura on her—so strong even the seal can’t hide it.”
“…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?!” Hualing suddenly raised her voice. The frightened spirit fox leapt out of her arms and ran out the door. “I thought you’d at least have a plan. Now you’re telling me you don’t even know?”
“You can protect her for a moment, but can you protect her for a lifetime?”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Chu Zhiqin shot back. “For over a month now, I’ve taken her to all the places we used to visit. And what happened? She looks at me like I’m a stranger.”
This had become Chu Zhiqin’s deepest torment.
She had thought that revisiting their old haunts would help Leng Junzhu recover some memories.
But things didn’t go as she hoped.
Not only did Leng Junzhu fail to remember anything, she even pretended to be confused and dazed—feigning a sense of vague familiarity just to deceive Chu Zhiqin.
Worse still, she sometimes concealed her golden serpent eyes, looked at her gently, and called her “junior sister”—only to take revenge on Chu Zhiqin for keeping her trapped and denying her freedom.
The more this happened, the more Chu Zhiqin hoped Leng Junzhu would regain her memories. She had pinned her hopes on Yinxia Valley, knowing that seven years of her senior sister’s memories were stored there.
Hualing understood her struggle, but a far greater problem loomed—one that, if unresolved, could become a serious danger.
“You haven’t forgotten what kind of person Junzhu used to be, right? She despised demonic cultivators and hated those who slaughtered the innocent without remorse.”
“And now? She’s the highest-ranking Demon Lord of the demon realm. How many lives do you think stain her hands? How many innocents died indirectly because of her? Can the old her accept this truth?”
“Let’s say she doesn’t regain her memories. What then? As Demon Lord, do you really think she’ll tolerate living under someone else’s roof, humbled and restrained?”
“To put it plainly—do you have any confidence that once her seal is lifted, she’ll still stay by your side?”
Hualing’s every word pierced Chu Zhiqin’s heart, crushing what was left of her weary soul.
“I don’t care anymore,” Chu Zhiqin’s eyes reddened as crystalline tears fell onto the back of her hand. Suddenly, she seemed to remember something and turned sharply to Hualing. “Are you going to stop me?”
Her face twisted with anger—if Hualing said yes, Chu Zhiqin might attack right then and there, regardless of the relationship between the Sword Pavilion and Yinxia Valley.
But Hualing wasn’t the kind of person to be swayed by threats. She never intended to stop Chu Zhiqin in the first place.
“Would it even matter if I did? If I told you not to, would you actually listen?”
“Forget it. Maybe… this is Junzhu’s fate.”
The argument inside the room continued. The timid spirit fox peeked from the doorway. If that outsider dared hurt its master, it would rush in and bite her!
Chu Zhiqin and Hualing didn’t notice the spirit fox at the door, nor did they see the small movements of the unconscious Leng Junzhu—her eyes beneath the lids shifting, a faint twitch of her right hand.
“I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything,” Hualing said and left the room.
Silence fell.
Chu Zhiqin clutched Leng Junzhu’s hand and pressed it to her face. “Senior Sister… what should I do?”
Just then, the hand she was holding twitched. A faint groan escaped, sending a jolt through Chu Zhiqin. She cried out eagerly, “Senior Sister! Are you awake?”
Leng Junzhu’s hand paused, and then she slowly opened her eyes, pretending not to hear the term “Senior Sister.” “Hm? Where am I?”
“We’re still in Yinxia Valley. You’ve been unconscious for three days. Hualing and I brought you to rest here. How are you feeling now?”
Leng Junzhu shook her head lightly. Her slender, pale fingers rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the splitting pain.
“I’m okay. Just a headache.”
“Let me help you.”
“Alright.”
The gentle massage made Leng Junzhu narrow her eyes in comfort.
In truth, she had already woken up during the argument. Nearly a century of memories had surged back all at once, almost overwhelming her. She had kept her eyes closed to quietly digest the memories and the splitting headache they brought.
Good thing she hadn’t opened her eyes then—otherwise, she would’ve missed the chance to eavesdrop on that whole farce.
Ha.
Chu Zhiqin’s Senior Sister hated demonic cultivators the most—and yet Leng Junzhu was now the ruthless, infamous Demon Lord.
How ironic.
A cold, mocking smile played at the corners of her lips where Chu Zhiqin couldn’t see. Within her icy serpent eyes, a terrifying storm was silently brewing.
“I think I heard you and Hualing arguing just now. What happened?” she asked.
Chu Zhiqin lied, “Nothing. She just told us to leave after we’ve rested, so we don’t disturb her spirit herb cultivation.”
Leng Junzhu didn’t expose the lie and merely let out a faint “Mm.”
“Is there anywhere you want to go?” Chu Zhiqin asked as she continued massaging her temples.
Leng Junzhu raised an eyebrow. “Anywhere at all?”
Chu Zhiqin knew exactly what she meant. “The demon realm is off limits.”
“Heh. Then I don’t want to go anywhere.” Leng Junzhu brushed off her hands with a sulky expression.
Chu Zhiqin knelt by the bed, burying her face in Leng Junzhu’s neck and wrapping her arms tightly around her. “Please… just go with me.”
They had yet to see desert smoke on the horizon, or the vast sea that swallows rivers. Of all the lands of the Nine Provinces, they had explored only a few.
“Let’s go somewhere no one knows us.”
Leng Junzhu sneered in her heart but showed no trace of it on her face.
Casually, she said, “Then let’s go to the desert. It’s freezing here.”
Chu Zhiqin, through her tears, smiled. “Alright. When you’ve recovered, we’ll go.”
“Go where?” Hualing suddenly appeared at the door, holding a bowl of medicinal soup as she entered. “Drink this.”
Leng Junzhu refused. “What is it? I’m not drinking it.”
Hualing’s face went cold. “If you don’t drink this, none of you are leaving the valley.”
Leng Junzhu glared. “I won’t!”
Hualing nearly force-fed the soup to her in anger, but Chu Zhiqin quickly stopped her.
“I’ll do it.” Chu Zhiqin took the bowl, blowing gently on the still-hot liquid. “Hualing wouldn’t hurt you.”
Hualing snorted and turned away.
Leng Junzhu shrank behind Chu Zhiqin, looking pitiful. “She’s so mean.”
Chu Zhiqin promptly shoved a spoonful of soup into her mouth to stop her talking.
Hualing rolled her eyes again—for the second time that day.
“Leave first thing in the morning,” she snapped. Hualing’s usually calm demeanor was gone. All her cultivated patience had been shattered by Leng Junzhu. How could she not be furious?
Chu Zhiqin: “Thank you.”
Hualing: “Forget the thanks. Just get out and give me some peace.”
Chu Zhiqin laughed softly. “Alright.”
Under Chu Zhiqin’s coaxing, the bitter soup was quickly finished. To chase away the aftertaste, a milk candy was popped into Leng Junzhu’s mouth.
As the creamy sweetness spread, the medicine began to take effect. Her eyelids grew heavy, and sleep overtook her.
Once they were sure Leng Junzhu was asleep, Hualing gestured for Chu Zhiqin to follow.
They went to a small pool, where the Qing Shuang Sword lay quietly submerged, cold water washing over its blade.
Hualing formed a hand seal. The submerged sword obeyed and rose from the water into her hand.
Once broken beyond repair, it had now been fully restored after a century of work. Its blade was soft but deadly sharp, and the once-bright sword tassel had faded with time.
“The Qíngluán Clan crafts only one perfect spirit sword in a lifetime,” Hualing began. “My master, because she loved the Sword Pavilion’s leader, forged the Xiao Lian Sword for her.”
“I forged the Qing Shuang Sword for Leng Junzhu as repayment for saving my life.”
She gently caressed the sword she had created. After lying dormant for a hundred years, it had suddenly burst with energy three days ago—vibrating with emotion. Hualing was certain that if it could speak, it would pour out its longing for its master.
“When I first met Junzhu, I thought she was odd.”
“She had one of the best talents and physiques in the Nine Provinces—and a heart stronger than most.”
“But that heart was lost. She hadn’t yet found her Dao heart—her true path.”
“A cultivator—especially a gifted one—who’s lost in confusion is in grave danger.”
Ignoring Chu Zhiqin’s reaction, Hualing kept speaking.
“The reason I forged this flexible sword was twofold: first, because Junzhu’s techniques and sword style suited a soft blade. Second, I hoped it would help her find her Dao heart.”
“One day, after she got the sword, she told me she saved a child. That’s when I noticed the confusion in her heart had vanished.”
“She had found her Dao heart.”
Chu Zhiqin’s throat tightened, her voice hoarse. “That child… was me?”
Hualing nodded. “Yes.”
“Not long after, she brought you—ten years old then—to Yinxia Valley to ask me to treat your illness. The rest… you know.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“The memory on the sword is gone.”
“What?”
“There was a sliver of Junzhu’s memory left on the Qing Shuang Sword. It wasn’t part of our agreement, so I didn’t collect it. I let it stay.”
“Now, it’s disappeared.”
Hualing looked directly at Chu Zhiqin. “So… how much do you think the woman inside that room remembers? And why is someone with her memories pretending not to know me?”
Chu Zhiqin’s face turned pale.
She understood.
Leng Junzhu was lying.