The White Moonlight Disdained by the Male Protagonist of Redemption - Chapter 3.2

The medicine she requested had already been placed in her room by Ning Yuzhu. She glanced at Feng Jingzhuo—he was still pale, unconscious.

Turning away, she began organizing the bloodbone ginseng and green ruins grass in her room. Ning Yuzhu was really obedient—she asked for these, and he had piled half her room with the medicine. He didn’t even bother grinding them into powder first. What kind of sect master was he, making her do all this menial work herself?

Sighing, Ning Yao picked up a mortar and started grinding the herbs bit by bit. As she worked, she consoled herself:

What a miserable Bodhi she was. Not only did she have to worry about her people’s survival, but she also had to manage the sect’s finances. Luoxiang Mountain was poor, so she had to be frugal and as if all that responsibility wasn’t enough, now she had to put effort into seducing a man.

If she soaked her true form in wine, would it be so bitter that even dogs would reject it?

Life was hard. Being a sect leader was hard. Tactics were hard.

Whatever. Back to grinding herbs. Grind, grind, grind.

***

Feng Jingzhuo was awakened by the sound of something being crushed.

The daylight was bright. Above him, the bed canopy was as thin as the clouds, clean in a way that even dreams couldn’t conjure. The bedding beneath him was soft and comfortable, carrying a faint, sweet fragrance that lingered in the air.

He stared blankly for a long time before slowly turning his head toward the source of the noise.

Ning Yao was sitting on a chair across the room. Her posture was anything but proper—her legs were tucked up, feet resting on the edge of the chair, making her look like a small, curled-up bundle.

She held a mortar in her arms, persistently grinding the herbs. Every so often, she added more ingredients before continuing her work.

She was dressed in pale yellow, with silver tassel chains draped over her shoulders and arms. As she moved, the delicate ornaments swayed gently.

Feng Jingzhuo watched her for a few moments before withdrawing his gaze; his expression was calm and unchanged. He braced himself on the bed and slowly sat up.

“Hey, don’t move,” Ning Yao said, still grinding herbs. “Um…”

What was she supposed to do again? Oh, right. Show gentle concern, with a hint of tender heartache. Imagine her eyes were filled with stars…

But before she could act, Feng Jingzhuo spoke first.

Feng Jingzhuo spoke in a low voice, “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m counting the numbers,” Ning Yao replied.

“Five hundred and forty-seven.”

So clear? Ning Yao’s mind subconsciously formed a vague thought: Could it be that when his scales were peeled off, he counted them one by one?

She silently cursed the actions of the Xuan Yue Sect for being worse than beasts. Ning Yao bent down and began counting the scattered scales on the ground, “One, two, three, four, five…”

Feng Jingzhuo stared at her. She counted quickly, her delicate white fingers touching each scale, and she murmured to herself, checking each one. If a scale wasn’t properly coated with the medicinal powder, she’d gently adjust it.

“Three hundred and thirteen, three hundred and fourteen, three hundred and fifteen…”

“Ning Mountain Master, what exactly are you trying to do?”

Ning Yao paused, suddenly realizing she had lost track of the count. “Oh no, where was I? Hey, don’t talk, let me start again.”

Feng Jingzhuo remained silent for a moment. “Three hundred and fifteen.”

“Which one is three hundred and fifteen?”

“The one you’re pointing at.”

“Oh.” Ning Yao resumed counting. The more she counted, the harder it became, as the scales were all in similar shapes and sizes, making it difficult to remember which one had been counted and which had not.

Feng Jingzhuo’s gaze fell on the scattered scales, and after a brief hesitation, he said, “Six hundred and thirty-one.”

Ning Yao paused and looked up. “You remember that too?” She recalculated, “Wait, the total doesn’t add up, there are thirteen missing.”

See? Luckily she checked; indeed, some were missing. She had been careful when handling the scales, and she had thoroughly checked the surroundings, but couldn’t find where the thirteen scales had gone.

No matter, the dragon scales were connected by spiritual power. Once they were found, they could be retrieved. Ning Yao said, “Don’t worry, just focus on your recovery. I’ll find those thirteen scales.”

Feng Jingzhuo’s thin lips moved, and after a moment, he said, “Those thirteen scales… are with Murong Lian. Because peeling the scales is exhausting, and she disliked the bloodstains so she sent me back to the Xuan Yue Sect for disposal.”

As he spoke, he turned to Ning Yao, quietly observing her reaction.

Ning Yao didn’t show much reaction, but rather, it seemed like a relief. “So they’re with her. Got it, I’ll go get them.”

Feng Jingzhuo sighed, exhausted. “Ning Mountain Master, I’m used to being belittled, but you actually want to humble yourself and ask Murong Lian for my scales? That’s the first joke I’ve heard in my life.”

“What do you actually want?” Ning Yao asked straightforwardly. “Take it if you want. If you don’t know, I’ll tell you. My dragon marrow has already been drained, you can’t use it; dragon tendons can be used to make whips or form a physical barrier; dragon bones can be used for refining and healing bones; dragon flesh can be used to nourish and make medicinal remedies. As for the dragon scales—”

He raised his head, his scarred face only showing a pair of clear, beautiful eyes. “They’re only useful after being peeled off. On me, they are useless.”

Ning Yao retorted, “How could they be useless? Only the dragon scales can protect your body.”

Feng Jingzhuo stayed still, looking at her.

Ning Yao threw out a final remark. “Wait here.” She turned and ran out of the room, soon returning with a wooden plaque in her arms.

The plaque had engraved text, and Ning Yao held it up to Feng Jingzhuo. “Read this.”

Feng Jingzhuo stared at the inscription for a long while without speaking.

Just as Ning Yao was wondering if he could even read, he heard his low, hoarse voice: “All beings are equal.”

Ning Yao took back the plaque and held it close, smiling at him. “All beings are equal. This is a clan teaching passed down from my ancestors. Our ancestors taught us, ‘Once you understand the vastness of the world, you should pity even the grass and trees.’ In this world, no one in the Bodhi Clan is allowed to commit unnecessary killings.”

“Feng Jingzhuo, I don’t want your dragon marrow, tendons, bones, or scales. I’m saving you because all one thousand one hundred ninety-one of your scales were forcibly ripped off. You would have died from the pain. I won’t watch you die. Bringing you back was only to ensure that you stay alive.”

Of course, if fate allows, there might be more beautiful things in the future. You ascend, I ascend, everyone ascends. Ah, it’s too beautiful.