No matter how hard an object might be, it could never withstand the sharpness of the Seven Absolute Strings.
Yet Yihua only flashed a bizarre smile. Her bound body twisted, and right before everyone’s eyes, she melted into a pool of blood that carried an intensely nauseating stench.
Frowning in disgust, Qingmo covered his nose and quickly called for someone to clean up the filth. “It is just an illusion. That dead fish head does not have the guts to show up in person.”
This fish demon possessed a severe and unusual obsession: though male, he loved wearing women’s clothing, often using a veil to deceive people with his appearance and lure lustful fools back to the Demon Realm to be eaten.
Suyu scooped the little fluff ball out from under the table. “The enemy is in the dark while we are in the light. Little fluff ball, you must stay extra vigilant lately.”
Losing all its bravado, the little fox tucked its tail and scrambled back into Qingmo’s arms. But no sooner had it hidden itself than it began frantically scratching to escape, its tiny face plastered with utter revulsion.
“Yingying!”
It smells like a cat! You held a cat, do not hold me!
In the evening, Suyu returned home. After sharing dinner with Liuze, he headed toward a storehouse that had remained locked for over a decade.
The household accumulated plenty of miscellaneous items, and whatever was not currently in use was basically piled up here. The last time he had stepped inside was when Liuze needed to find a flowerpot that had once been used to cultivate a cold orchid.
“Cough, cough, cough…” A thin layer of dust coated the storehouse. Unprepared, Suyu choked on it, his eyes reddening as he coughed out tears.
Pausing to catch his breath, he lit a candle for illumination. An antique zither resting in the exact center of the room caught his eye immediately. Three of its strings were snapped, and having gone untouched for a long time, it was densely covered in spiderwebs.
The owner of this zither was Qingmo.
Yet because past events had not transpired in the present, Qingmo remained entirely unaware of this zither’s existence.
Qingmo loved the zither. Melodies of all kinds always flowed from his fingertips with extraordinary, winding grace. Whenever Suyu returned from the outside weary to the bone, a newly composed tune would invariably be waiting for him.
Alas, a melody like that was no longer something he could hear simply by wishing for it.
Deep within the storehouse sat several rows of bookshelves, mostly filled with ancient texts Liuze had once browsed through. Unwilling to throw them away even after losing interest, he had simply tossed them together with the miscellaneous clutter.
If Suyu remembered correctly, tucked away among those ancient texts was a zither score personally penned by Qingmo.
Qingmo had compiled several zither scores back then, but in the depths of despair, he had ended up putting them all to the torch, leaving behind only this single volume that Suyu had rescued from the blazing fire.
The book was likewise covered in dust, making the handwriting beneath impossible to make out. Groping around by feel, Suyu stained his porcelain-white fingers a greyish black until he finally located what he was looking for.
The zither score was not long, consisting of only a thin stack. The perfectionist he once was would never have tolerated such grime, but ignoring the dirt, Suyu raised his sleeve to brush away the fallen dust, cautiously and carefully opening the cover.
Fortunately, the handwriting remained largely intact, with only the edges bearing faint scorch marks from the fire.
Whether he would get to hear Qingmo play the zither tomorrow depended entirely on this.
Yue Zhiqiang’s crimes were undeniable, though fortunately no severe consequences had been brewed. After a brief interrogation, the Heavenly Dao did not overly trouble him, merely ordering him to remain within the Ghost Fiend Manor until he successfully developed an antidote for Dream-Entering before he would be permitted to leave.
Dream-Entering was tied to the Blood Skeleton, and unwinding it was no simple task.
Still, residing within the Ghost Fiend Manor under Qingmo’s jurisdiction made it convenient for him to be looked after.
After settling Yue Zhiqiang, Qingmo headed to Yanyun Pavilion to deliver the news to Bai Yingfei. Stubbornly refusing to forgive the transgression, Bai Yingfei insisted he would never consent to laying eyes on Yue Zhiqiang ever again.
“Sigh…” Qingmo scratched the little fluff ball under the chin. “Romance always makes people blind. Staying single is much better.”
What did a little fluff ball know of romance? It only knew its sole mission right now was to stay on guard against that stinky rice cake.
As the weather grew increasingly hot, Qingmo developed a habit of keeping the windows open. The midday sunlight spilled right across the windowsill, prompting the little fluff ball to take up napping there ever since he had been frightened half to death by Yihua.
Surely no one would dare pop in through a window from such a height.
Yet whatever one feared the most always happened.
Just as the little fellow gave a wide yawn and stretched lazily in preparation for a blissful nap, a figure suddenly squeezed in through the window frame.
“Ying—!!!”
Why do terrifying things keep happening even inside my own home?! The nine-tailed fox bristled from head to toe, rolled its eyes back, and collapsed straight down, praying before losing consciousness that this was all just a nightmare.
Suyu moved with lightning speed, catching the tiny body in his palm, and cast an apologetic look toward Qingmo.
Puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms, Qingmo had not expected Suyu to climb through a window out of nowhere. “Does the Demon Lord have no shame left? Anyone who enters through a window is a flower-picking bandit.”
“Do not be like this… I brought you something good.” Feeling guilty, Suyu did not dare argue back.
In truth, he was not naturally such an unruly person, it was simply that years of being dragged down by his physical ailments had forced him to practice strict self-restraint. Passing beneath Yanyun Pavilion just now and noticing Qingmo’s windows wide open, an impulse had suddenly seized him, and for a brief moment, he had genuinely recaptured a shred of his youth.
“Something good?” Qingmo raised an eyebrow. “What kind of good thing could you possibly have?”
Suyu produced the zither score he had so carefully preserved, though its tattered state remained unmistakable despite being mended.
“Why does this thing look like absolute trash!” Believing Suyu was playing another prank on him, Qingmo’s expression darkened instantly.
Suyu coaxed him with an explanation. “This is a zither score. The melodies inside have all been lost to time. I do not understand musical theory, but I figured you would like it.”
Half-doubtful, Qingmo took it and flipped through a few pages, the contents were indeed a zither score.
Peculiarly, he felt the notes were simultaneously unfamiliar and familiar, as if before turning to the next page, his subconscious could already hum the upcoming melody.
He was certain he had never laid eyes on this zither score before.
“Where did you get this?”
“Written by someone very long ago. He loved the zither too, but after certain events occurred, he could never play again.”
Those few brief words encapsulated the sins he had committed. The corners of his curved lips turned bitter. Why could he no longer play? Because it was he who had personally severed Qingmo’s tendon muscles.
Unaware of the truth, Qingmo grew increasingly enamored with the score. “A kindred spirit! I appreciate the tunes he wrote!”
Forget about ugly demon queens or child-eating monsters, the person was merely a pitiful soul betrayed by romance. With such breathtaking talent, how bad could they possibly be? Suyu, after all, was the sole mastermind behind every tragedy.
“I love it very much. Can I meet him?” Qingmo asked with absolute sincerity, devoid of his usual gossip-seeking or teasing intentions.
The trouble was that meeting this person was entirely impossible, leaving Suyu trapped in a bind.
With darting eyes, he instinctively glanced toward the bronze mirror. “He dislikes strangers. I am afraid he would not agree to see you.”
“Forget it, I understand. Since he can no longer play the zither anyway, bringing it up again would only cause him pain.”
“I actually came to ask a favor of you today.” Stroking the little fluff ball’s fur, Suyu spoke softly, “I have not heard him play in a very long time, and I will never have the chance again. But I believe your zither skills are on par with his. I am giving this zither score to you, how about playing just one tune for me?”
Clutching the zither score tightly with zero intention of returning it, Qingmo presented a ready target for Suyu to propose an easily satisfied condition.
The request wasn’t unreasonable, and no zither lover would easily let a kindred spirit’s score slip away. Qingmo had no reason to refuse.
“Fine, no problem.” Easygoing as ever, Qingmo hauled out a wooden zither devoid of strings. “The zither score only counts as payment to cut the line. You still have to pay according to Yanyun Pavilion’s rates: ten silver coins per song, but if the pavilion master gives you a private session, it costs a hundred.”
That pricing was rather extortionate, no wonder Yanyun Pavilion’s reputation wasn’t squeaky clean, though a hundred silver coins meant little to a Demon Lord anyway.
Not accustomed to carrying around massive sums of money, Suyu could only surrender and sign his name under Qingmo’s wicked grin. He muttered powerlessly, “Even the God of Wealth would get skinned alive before leaving Yanyun Pavilion.”
“You bet.” Pocketing the glaring evidence of the hundred-silver-coin debt with triumph, Qingmo declared, “Our household deals strictly in silver, not sentiment. Working hard every day on the job is tough labor, you know.”
Having collected the payment, he acted with swift efficiency, winding the Seven Absolute Strings one by one onto the wooden zither.
True to its name, the Seven Absolute Strings were literally stripped right off a seven-stringed zither.
Like a well-behaved child sitting through a lecture in a village school, Suyu sat upright and obediently, cradling a quiet little fox in his arms that was either fast asleep or had passed out from shock.
Slender fingers plucked the strings, releasing an ethereal, winding melody from his fingertips. The crisp, crystalline zither notes caused Suyu’s thoughts to stall for a fleeting second, no matter how many years passed, this sound remained entirely unchanged.
Whenever Qingmo played the zither, Suyu could never bear to disturb him, yet invariably failing to endure the loneliness, he would step up from behind to loop his arms around Qingmo’s waist and rest his chin on his shoulder, pretending to listen to the music while plotting to steal a kiss. At times like that, Qingmo would pause, pinch his chin to shove his head away, and laughingly scold him not to make trouble.
Compared to the raucous, screeching noises echoing downstairs, Qingmo’s zither music was genuinely divine. Awakening from his faint with a series of soft yips, the little fluff ball opened its eyes only to crash straight into a pair of heterochromatic irises.
Ying… His Lordship is so breathtaking.
The utterly spineless little creature let out a stream of spineless drool.
Yet no matter how frantically it whipped its tail into various floral shapes seeking attention, those dual-colored eyes remained glued entirely to one direction: Qingmo.
Bathed in the zither music, even the Ghost Fiend’s usual flippant, devil-may-care aura transformed. Stripped of its murderous bloodlust, his thick, long eyelashes drooped slightly, casting a soft and tranquil silhouette over his features.
Wonderful times always passed in a flash. As the final notes faded with a sweeping stroke across the strings, Qingmo lifted his head and immediately locked eyes with the little fluff ball. “Did my magnificent zither music finally wake you from your dream?”
“Ying!” With a triple bounce, the little fluff ball hurled itself straight into Qingmo’s lap, rolling over to expose its belly and rubbing affectionately as if signaling its utter satisfaction with the melody.
Ever since moving into Yanyun Pavilion, it had never heard music meant for normal foxes.
“Hahahaha…” Utterly smitten with its dual-standard personality, Qingmo scooped it up and planted a flurry of loud, enthusiastic kisses across its face.
Energy was conserved: the fox was happy, but the cat was decidedly miserable. Suyu felt as though he had been plunged straight into a vat of vinegar.
Jealous of the furry little beast receiving fragrant kisses, he deliberately teased, “I feel it is too lonely for this little fellow. Perhaps we should fetch Rice Cake back another day so it has a companion.”
“Great idea!” Qingmo raised both hands and feet in agreement. “I miss Rice Cake so much!”
Miss a fluff ball! It is Rice Cake again! Unable to catch its breath, the little fox rolled its eyes back and passed out from sheer despair once more.
“Look at you, such a fiery temper.” Feigning helplessness, Qingmo scooped up the soft little body and tucked it back into the soft nest beside his pillow.
Pivoting the conversation, Qingmo asked, “Was the Demon Lord satisfied with just now’s tune?”
Nodding with a smile, Suyu replied, “Naturally.”
With eight hundred hidden schemes brewing in his mind, the other man crept right up to his side, pressing close with what looked suspiciously like an eager tail wagging mischievously behind him. “Well then, according to our establishment’s rules, tips are required.”
Massaging his temples with his affection completely unchanged, Suyu chuckled. “Whatever else you want, just go add it to the debt tally.”
“Now that is what I like to hear!” Operating with supreme efficiency, a certain someone unhesitatingly crossed out the silver unit behind the hundred and changed it to gold.
Doing so might not be entirely moral, but running Yanyun Pavilion was exhausting work, unlike the Spirit Illusion Bureau, which held power, influence, and a rapid influx of cash.
Making a living is not easy, Qingmo sighed silently.