The Villainess Always Tries to Seduce Me - Chapter 32

“No!” Yun Chuanzhi reflexively leaped to her feet.

The descriptions she had heard of Bai Fenghuo’s debauchery and cruelty echoed in her mind. This is bad, this is bad, Yun Chuanzhi thought frantically, turning to flee out the door. But two soft silk ribbons wrapped around her wrists, tugging her back into the air.

It’s over, it’s over, Yun Chuanzhi struggled for a long moment before being dragged back to the bedside. She stood trembling, clutching the white ribbons, her heart filled with despair.

Bai Fenghuo shouldn’t even look twice at a girl like Cui Ergou, she thought. Could it be that since I arrived, I’ve been taking too many pills? My originally withered body has plumped up like a budding flower, and I’ve inadvertently caught the eye of this beast?

Forgive me, forgive me, she lamented. But if Bai Fenghuo has made up her mind, how can I possibly escape? I might as well close my eyes, steel my resolve, and endure it. It will pass eventually.

With a resigned sigh, Yun Chuanzhi spread her arms and collapsed onto the bed. “Come then,” she said listlessly.

The silk ribbons coiled around her wrists slithered away like snakes, their icy touch sending a chill across her skin. Bai Fenghuo stood silently by the bed. After a moment, she pinched the silk sash of Yun Chuanzhi’s robe between two fingers, lifted it, flipped it over, and released it.

Yun Chuanzhi, who had been lying horizontally, now lay vertically, rolling toward the inner edge of the bed.

“What’s a young girl like you thinking about?” Bai Fenghuo asked, her tone puzzled. After speaking coldly, she lay down beside her, fully clothed.

Not that kind of thing? Yun Chuanzhi felt a wave of relief wash over him. She sat up with a鲤鱼打挺 (carp-like flip), eagerly pulled up the corner of the quilt, and tucked it snugly around Bai Fenghuo’s shoulders.

As she tucked the quilt in, she murmured softly, “The wind is strong tonight, Sect Leader. Your health is delicate; be careful not to catch a chill.”

Bai Fenghuo, now cocooned in the bedding, finally snapped. “It’s the height of summer, Cui Ergou! Has a donkey kicked your brain out?”

Hearing this, Yun Chuanzhi hastily pulled the quilt back down. “My apologies.”

After this back-and-forth, Bai Fenghuo was sweating from the heat. She pinched an Immortal seal with her hand, still tucked in her sleeve, to dispel the warmth.

“Go to sleep,” she ordered, suppressing her irritation.

Yun Chuanzhi froze, her body stiff as a log, and closed her eyes tightly.

He rarely shared a bed with anyone, let alone Bai Fenghuo. Though her eyes were shut, her ears remained perked up like a rabbit’s, unable to relax for a moment.

At first, she heard only the howling wind outside the window. The aged window frame seemed to have lost a slat; with each gust, it rattled against the wall, producing a rhythmic thump-thump. Then the door creaked open and shut, its hinges groaning in protest.

Ling Shui has endured so much over the years, Yun Chuanzhi thought, lost in her own musings. No wonder she’s desperate to join Mount Everlasting, living in this dilapidated place with her family.

Finally, unable to bear the noise any longer, she sat up and flicked a wisp of spiritual energy toward the door, which slowly creaked shut.

Wasting my precious spiritual energy on such a trivial matter, she sighed, lying back down. Now that the door was quiet, the woman beside her’s steady breathing filled the silence.

Why did she insist on sharing a bed with me in the middle of the night? Isn’t this supposed to be the time when she’s disgusted by me? Yun Chuanzhi grew increasingly puzzled. She opened her eyes and stole a glance at the woman.

In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, Bai Fenghuo’s high-bridged nose caught the light like a snow-capped peak. Her lips, unadorned, were pressed tightly together, their natural redness striking against her pale skin.

When Bai Fenghuo wasn’t smiling, she possessed a certain Immortal-like grace. But her smile held a sinister glint, like a drop of ink tainting clear water, diluting the refinement of her features.

Despite the sweltering summer night, Bai Fenghuo’s body radiated a cool, refreshing chill. Yun Chuanzhi boldly scooted closer, stretching her legs comfortably.

I know what to do now, she thought. When we return to Kun Dan Sect, I’ll place a block of thousand-year-old, unmelting ice on my bed. It’ll have the same effect as Bai Fenghuo—and if I get too hot, I can even hug it.

The more Yun Chuanzhi thought, the more her remaining drowsiness vanished. Eventually, she began staging elaborate dramas in her mind, reaching the climax where she was violently beating Bai Fenghuo when a sudden, sharp intake of breath pulled her thoughts away.

She silently turned and sat up. The sound had come from the woman beside her. The night was too dark to make out her expression, so Yun Chuanzhi retrieved a flameless lamp, lit it, and hung it at the head of the bed.

Bai Fenghuo’s features were revealed in the dim light. Her face remained unchanged, but a thin layer of sweat glistened visibly on her forehead.

Is she having a nightmare? Yun Chuanzhi reached out to check her breathing. It was erratic, sometimes heavy and rapid like a storm, other times so still it seemed she had stopped breathing altogether.

Even someone as arrogant as Bai Fenghuo has nightmares? Yun Chuanzhi suddenly recalled the Shadow Demon’s illusion, where Bai Fenghuo had shown surprising vulnerability. But whether that vulnerability was genuine or feigned remained a mystery.

Well, there’s nothing I can do to help her anyway. Yun Chuanzhi lay back down, closing her eyes. But she snapped them open again.

Bai Fenghuo was merely having a nightmare, yet her body had turned as cold as ice, radiating a chilling aura that drove all the warmth from the room, replacing it with a bone-deep cold.

Yun Chuanzhi lay so close to Bai Fenghuo that frost formed around her nostrils with each breath. The biting cold jolted her awake like a startled carp, and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

She wanted to shove Bai Fenghuo away, but her hand froze mid-motion. What if she had a terrible temper upon waking? If her anger flared, she might obliterate her—that wouldn’t do at all.

After much deliberation, Yun Chuanzhi lowered her gaze and began rummaging through her own clothes. She found a relatively smooth corner of her robe, tore it off, and used her small knife to cut it into a neat square of fabric.

Then, she retrieved a charcoal pencil and, by the dim light of the bean-sized lamp, began drawing a Soul-Soothing Nightmare-Suppressing Talisman. Though the Peaceful Sleep Talisman was the most common, it was actually a high-level spell that required immense mental focus to create. When Sister Guiren had taught her this talisman years ago, it had taken over a month of daily practice to master.

Back then, Yun Chuanzhi had been constantly tormented by nightmares, haunted by memories of her parents and terrorized by Evil Spirits. But ever since Sister Guiren had drawn a talisman for her to wear around her neck, the nightmares had vanished completely.

Lost in nostalgia, Yun Chuanzhi finished drawing the talisman. She blinked her blurry eyes, sewed the fabric into a small pouch, and slipped it beneath Bai Fenghuo’s pillow.

“There, that should do it, ancestor,” Yun Chuanzhi murmured. She curled up under the covers, lying on her side. To quickly free Bai Fenghuo from her nightmare, she began chanting a hypnotic spell while gently patting her arm.

“The world’s tides rise and fall, better to awaken from dreams. All laws fade without a trace, the Spirit Platform shines clear…”

Whether it was the hypnotic spell or the Soul-Soothing Nightmare-Suppressing Talisman, the chill gradually receded from Bai Fenghuo’s body. The frost around them melted into damp droplets, which were then dispersed by the warm breeze from the window.

Yun Chuanzhi’s chanting abruptly ceased. The hypnotic spell had backfired, affecting her instead. Her hand fell limply onto Bai Fenghuo’s arm as she drifted into a deep sleep, instinctively snuggling closer to Bai Fenghuo.

Conversely, Bai Fenghuo opened her eyes, a complex mix of thoughts swirling within them. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment before turning her gaze toward the sleeping girl.

In the dim light, her sleeping face was indistinct. Over the past few days, she had grown like a bamboo shoot, her body noticeably taller and her cheeks fuller. Though still slender, she now possessed a youthful radiance.

“Bold little brat,” Bai Fenghuo muttered, “release me at once.” But Yun Chuanzhi, lost in slumber, couldn’t hear him. In fact, she clung even tighter to her arm, seeking the coolness.

Bai Fenghuo clicked her tongue and yanked her arm free, only to have those two little paws grope their way back, guided by instinct, and wrap around her again.

After several repetitions of this, Bai Fenghuo grew weary.

He finally lowered her arm, studying Yun Chuanzhi’s face for a long moment before shifting her gaze away.

The faint sound of the wind outside the window shifted subtly, as if someone were passing by. Others wouldn’t have noticed, but Bai Fenghuo heard it clearly. A faint smile curved her lips as she silently closed her eyes.

The scent of the sleeping incense pierced through the paper window, quickly spreading through the room. Bai Fenghuo effortlessly held her breath, while Immortal Arts silently enveloped Yun Chuanzhi, silencing the girl’s breathing.

Unaware of the changes within, the intruder casually tapped on the window. Receiving no response, she boldly climbed inside.

His clumsy movements and unsteady breathing revealed she was no cultivator. Bai Fenghuo waited quietly with her eyes closed as the woman circled the room once before leaving.

The window creaked shut, and only after the intruder had departed did the chirping of insects resume outside. The arm that had been tightly wrapped around Bai Fenghuo suddenly loosened, and Yun Chuanzhi pushed herself up from the bed.

“Who was that?” she asked in surprise.

“You’re awake,” Bai Fenghuo said, glancing at her with a teasing smile. “No more hugs?”

“Could it have been a petty thief?” Yun Chuanzhi pretended not to hear her, forcing herself to continue. “The Ling Shui Family is so poor they’re practically broke. What’s there to steal?”

Nothing could have been more shocking than waking up to find herself embracing Bai Fenghuo. Just then, the intruder had passed by the bed, forcing her to maintain the embrace without daring to breathe.

Fortunately, Bai Fenghuo didn’t blame her, merely smiled faintly and gazed at her for a long moment before rising to her feet. “This wasn’t the work of petty thieves,” she declared.

Yun Chuanzhi exhaled in relief, rolled off the bed, lit the lamp, and opened the window. The night breeze rushed in, dispersing the lingering incense.

“You woke up quickly,” Bai Fenghuo remarked dryly, her tone inscrutable.

Yun Chuanzhi didn’t dare reply. Though she now inhabited a different body, her past life’s vigilance remained deeply ingrained. Her senses were greatly diminished, yet she could still hear someone approaching her bedside.

Bai Fenghuo didn’t press her further. Instead, she strolled around the cramped room, pausing before an ancient red pearwood chest. Reaching up, she retrieved an ivory waist pendant from the top.

The inscription on the pendant was illegible, but its value was evident. Visible spiritual energy pulsed within. Bai Fenghuo examined it briefly before tossing it to Yun Chuanzhi.

Yun Chuanzhi caught the pendant and turned it over in her hand. “This is a Cultivator’s artifact, and an ancient one at that. It must be a family heirloom.”

The pendant was dust-free, unlike the other items in the room.

“Did the bandit bring this?” Yun Chuanzhi asked.

“His Immortal Talent may be dull, but her mind is sharp,” Bai Fenghuo said, striding to the door. “Unless something unexpected happens, someone will die again tonight. They’ve even brought the stolen goods to This Seat, determined to frame me for this.”

So this thing was stripped from a dead body, Yun Chuanzhi realized. No wonder Bai Fenghuo wouldn’t touch it herself. Yun Chuanzhi raised her hand to throw it away, but a glance from Bai Fenghuo made her silently lower her hand.

“Open the door. This Seat wants to see who’s died today,” Bai Fenghuo said, lifting her chin slightly to signal Yun Chuanzhi forward.

Yun Chuanzhi was long accustomed to her sudden whims and paid them no mind. She simply wrapped the item in a handkerchief, tucked it into her robe, and hurried to open the door for Bai Fenghuo.

He bowed slightly. “Sect Leader, please.”

Bai Fenghuo rose onto the tips of her toes, then suddenly stopped, gesturing for Yun Chuanzhi to go first. Yun Chuanzhi, too lazy to ponder her motives, yawned and stepped out the door.

Only after Yun Chuanzhi’s silhouette had disappeared beneath the eaves did Bai Fenghuo clasp her hands behind her back. A faint purple glow lit her palm as the pouch hidden beneath her pillow silently fell into her hand.

Bai Fenghuo carefully stowed the pouch away before clearing her throat softly and stepping into the night.