It was fine as long as it was not He Chuan.
Mu Daoying breathed a slight sigh of relief.
He had been caught off guard and fallen victim to the scheme of He Chuan and the others. He feared they might return and injure his body again, wasting his life in vain.
Liu Qiao’e looked down at him from above, standing before the couch. Her white robes were otherworldly as she spoke coldly and indifferently, “You have been poisoned. The toxin has aggravated your old wounds. You saw He Chuan today, didn’t you? Don’t you have anything to say?”
Mu Daoying remained silent. He was truly exhausted, with pain coursing through his entire body, from his hands to his feet.
Liu Qiao’e flared up at his personality, which produced not even a peep after a beating. “Are you made of dough? He Chuan and his lot treated you like that, and here I am. You really have nothing to say to me?”
She knew of the unyielding pride beneath Mu Daoying’s soft and refined exterior. He was a scholar at heart, cloaked in a Daoist’s skin—most pliant yet unyielding, most chaste, most self-respecting.
Mu Daoying countered, “Will the Old Mother stand up for Ying?”
Liu Qiao’e paused, frowning. “Joyous Union Palace is not your Jade Clarity Temple. The law of the jungle—you’d best learn it sooner rather than later.”
Mu Daoying rolled over, turning his back to her, and said slowly, “In that case, what more can Ying say?”
He was not truly made of dough; naturally, he had his own temper.
It was simply that one had to endure under someone else’s roof.
Just like now—the lingering stench of wine and meat from the banquet, the forced pleasantries, and the pain in his body had worn away at Mu Daoying’s patience.
These past few days, he had shut himself indoors, striving to ignore the fact that he had become Liu Qiao’e’s male pet.
Yet He Chuan, Liu Qiao’e, and the others kept reminding him of his current predicament, time and again.
Mu Daoying pursed his lips, not wanting to pay her any mind.
Bastard! Liu Qiao’e cursed inwardly as she idly toyed with the rosewood box she had just “found” in his sleeve.
“Is this what He Chuan and the others gave you?”
Mu Daoying did not want to speak. He closed his eyes, pretending not to hear.
Whether he spoke or not made little difference. Deep down, he had never considered the jewels and trinkets in the box as his own possessions. Even if he did, Liu Qiao’e would still rummage through them without asking.
His entire being belonged to her now; what significance did a few external possessions hold?
Liu Qiao’e rummaged through the box for a long while. She was a delicate woman who liked all things pretty and flashy, though she never wore them herself.
Perhaps it was that the more one lacked something, the more one emphasized it.
Having fallen into the mud, she had done too many things against her will, yielded her body to many men, killed many people, and stained her hands with too much blood. No matter how alluringly she dressed, it was merely embellishing a sewage pit.
Thus, she went about barefaced on ordinary days, wearing only white robes, proclaiming herself immaculate.
Liu Qiao’e rummaged for a long time before pulling out a large peony flower, red as an archer’s thumb ring, so vibrant it bordered on garish.
But she liked it. Satisfied, she casually pinned it to Mu Daoying’s temple.
Mu Daoying had no choice but to open his eyes, his gaze dark as ink. “Old Mother.”
The young man was pale and handsome, his hair black as ink, his features refined and otherworldly. That peony at his temple did not look garish at all; instead, it added a striking finishing touch.
Liu Qiao’e felt a surge of delight at the sight. Her fingertip trailed downward from the peony, caressing his temple.
Her hand bore a thin callus, stirring the fine hairs at his ear. Mu Daoying uncomfortably turned his face away, rejecting her both bodily and spiritually.
Liu Qiao’e asked, “He Chuan and the others humiliated you like that, and you’re not angry?”
Mu Daoying replied, “The Dao is the mysterious female, the mother is the origin of all under heaven, the beginning is the female’s primal state.”
“Why should Ying be angry at being likened to a woman?”
Liu Qiao’e said, “Mu Daoying, you really shouldn’t say such things.”
Mu Daoying asked, “Why?”
Liu Qiao’e replied, “Because hearing that makes me even less inclined to let you go.”
Mu Daoying was struck speechless.
Liu Qiao’e’s fingertip slid downward, reaching his lips, which were thin and soft. She pinched hard, leaving a faint crescent mark, before turning to pick up the bowl of medicine that had long gone cold by her side.
“Drink the medicine.”
Mu Daoying clamped his lips shut, inexplicably summoning a spark of stubborn defiance.
Liu Qiao’e’s expression darkened instantly. “Mu Daoying, taking my kindness for granted, are you?”
Mu Daoying still refused to open his mouth.
Liu Qiao’e sneered, holding the medicine bowl in one hand while pinching his jaw with the other.
Her strength was so great that Mu Daoying thought his jawbone would shatter. He furrowed his brows in pain and was forced to part his lips.
Liu Qiao’e mercilessly poured that bowl of pitch-black bitter medicine down his throat.
His throat was narrow, and she poured too fiercely. He choked, coughing violently as he hunched over the couch. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, and strands of saliva trailed from his lips.
It took a good while before Mu Daoying caught his breath. “…Why did the Old Mother bother saving Ying?”
This heartless, ungrateful wretch!
This stubborn mule who knew no gratitude! Liu Qiao’e’s temper flared too. “I know what you’re thinking!”
“But you’d best resign yourself to it. No matter how unwilling you are, hold it in. You’ll be facing me and serving me for a long time to come!”
Those words were utterly shocking.
Mu Daoying’s heart chilled by half. He slowly closed his eyes again.
Liu Qiao’e did not let him off. She leaned down and spoke into his ear.
Her breath was slightly warm. “Tomorrow, make yourself presentable and come to Floating Flower Hall. This Seat has successfully broken through in secluded cultivation and has sent invitations to all the sects.
“Guess who the Jade Clarity Temple and Wandering Sword Pavilion sent to offer congratulations?”
Mu Daoying abruptly opened his eyes.
Liu Qiao’e smiled maliciously. “Zhao Yange and your fellow disciples, Fragrant Embrace Immortal Shen Chengyin… They’re all your friends, aren’t they?”
“Why not let them see what you look like serving me?”
Mu Daoying’s heart plunged into an icy abyss—not because his current state was too humiliating to face his old friends.
He simply knew Zhao Yange, Shen Chengyin, and the others too well. They were young, hot-blooded, and acted on pure impulse.
Not long ago, he had been one of them.
But the Ling Yuan case had turned his situation upside down.
He was no longer as naive as before. He feared that if his fellow disciples saw him now, they would stand up for him in righteous anger and do something rash.
Between cultivators, the gap in realms was like a chasm.
Liu Qiao’e was using Zhao Yange, Shen Chengyin, and the others to warn him. Mu Daoying’s lips turned white. He knew full well that even all of them together could not defeat Liu Qiao’e alone.
Not to mention, they represented Jade Clarity Temple in offering congratulations; every action tied to the two sects.
If Liu Qiao’e found an excuse to threaten or make things difficult for them…
Mu Daoying paused, then spoke with difficulty, “Ying is currently ill and unwell, fearing he cannot serve—”
But before he could finish, a sharp, piercing pain suddenly lanced through his heart and lungs!
Mu Daoying’s expression changed. There was poison in the medicine!
He should never have believed this woman would be so kindhearted!
He wanted to say something, but the intense pain made his lips tremble, sweat pouring down.
“You…” Mu Daoying struggled to raise his face, his voice breaking. “What did you feed me?”
Liu Qiao’e stepped forward and yanked open his collar with both hands.
Mu Daoying hurriedly reached to stop her in alarm. Unfortunately, the pain made his whole body spasm, his strength feeble.
His jade-white skin was exposed in large patches.
Liu Qiao’e’s gaze fell upon his chest.
Mu Daoying followed her line of sight and looked down, stunned. At some point, a snow-white udumbara flower the size of a bowl had bloomed on his chest, pure as snow and crystalline as jade.
Liu Qiao’e released her hold, a faint smile appearing in her otherwise impassive eyes. “Do you know what this is? I mixed a dose of Joyous Union Palace poison into that bowl of medicine you just drank, forming a ‘Yin-Yang Talisman.’
“This poison can reverse several strands of pure qi in your body into turbid qi.
“It transforms formless turbid qi into this tangible flower on your chest.
“If you obediently heed my words, it will be no different from usual—you’ll eat well and sleep soundly.
“If you resist, I need only open my mouth and chant the incantation. Those strands of turbid qi will pierce your heart and lungs, making you writhe in agony.”
As she spoke, perhaps fearing he would not believe her, Liu Qiao’e moved her lips and began chanting the incantation in a low hum.
The moment she opened her mouth, Mu Daoying’s lips trembled in pain again. He felt the udumbara on his chest come alive in that instant! Its slender petals writhed endlessly, turning into countless iron thorns that tightly wrapped and constricted his heart, piercing the flesh.
Mu Daoying did not want to yield, but the excruciating pain forced him to arch his body and curl up like a shrimp before her, unable to utter a word.
When Liu Qiao’e finished chanting, Mu Daoying’s lips were bitten bloody, his eyelashes, temples, and robes soaked through with sweat.
Liu Qiao’e said, “Daoist, don’t even think of seeking an antidote. Righteous paths cultivate purity and yang, demonic paths cultivate turbidity and yin. Only Joyous Union Sect practitioners can harmonize yin and yang, purity and turbidity in tandem—and within the entire Joyous Union Sect, only I can wield the Yin-Yang Talisman.”
As she spoke, she straightened his collar.
The man’s neck was slender and white, seemingly too fragile to grasp. Beneath his transparently pale skin, a faint red line circled his neck, flickering with red light like a dot of cinnabar amid ice and snow.
“Besides this poison, I also implanted a gu poison in you, called ‘One Line Pull.’
“Without my permission, if you flee beyond a certain distance, the gu poison will detonate inside you.”
But he could no longer hear clearly.
In his daze, a slightly cool hand lifted his jaw, meeting his faintly scattered eyes. “Do you understand?”
Mu Daoying was still immersed in that terrifying, shuddering pain. He nodded blankly and instinctively.
It felt like a very, very long time had passed—or perhaps just an instant—before he finally regained his senses from the pain.
Laughably, his first reaction upon recovering was not to demand the antidote for the heart-binding talisman, nor to check the injury on his chest.
What crossed his mind was that he was half-naked and needed to straighten his clothes no matter what.
Mu Daoying lowered his eyes and tried to pull his collar closed, but his trembling fingertips kept scraping the fabric. That simple action felt as clumsy as a child learning to dress.
Liu Qiao’e watched him and said, “You have no reason to refuse.”
At this point, Mu Daoying finally managed to close his robes. In his despair, he regained his usual calm indifference.
“I understand.” He paused, then rasped in a voice clear and cold as snow, “But Zhao Yange and the others are young and hot-headed, and have always been on good terms with Ying. I’m afraid they might speak out of turn to the Old Mother then.
“Please show them mercy, if you would.”
Liu Qiao’e looked into his eyes.
Mu Daoying met her gaze at first, then remembered his current situation. His eyelashes fluttered as he slowly lowered them, bowing his neck submissively, appearing utterly deferential.
“Naturally,” Liu Qiao’e heard herself say. “If you behave, why would This Seat not give face to This Seat’s own male consort?”
His hand silently clenched into a fist in his sleeve.