Chu Weiliang: !!!
Her feet immediately rooted to the spot, refusing to move.
Who would have thought? The esteemed Sword Sovereign of the Northern Profound Realm, renowned for having attained the Supreme Emotionless State and merely suppressing a heavenly tribulation away from ascension to godhood, actually harbored such indescribable preferences for a piece of wood in private!
What to do?
Wen Shubai, seeing her rooted in place, frowned impatiently.
“Wooden block, utterly unteachable. Go over.”
With that, he flicked his sleeve.
Chu Weiliang went “whoosh” – swept up by his broad sleeve and flung onto the bed.
“Lie still.”
Wen Shubai’s voice was low as he pressed his palm down. At the head of the bed, Chu Weiliang’s head was firmly pinned to the pillow.
Her legs still tried to kick.
Wen Shubai straightened his fingers. “Stop squirming.”
Those two legs also froze in place.
Her hands attempted to push herself up.
Wen Shubai moved his fingers again.
Smack!
Her arms splayed out, forcibly arranged into a spread-eagle position.
Wen Blindman, have you no shame!
Just as Chu Weiliang was about to curse, she turned her head and saw little Wen Mian, tiny and dejected, dragging her feet step by step toward the bed, arms hanging limply. As she shuffled, she muttered unwillingly:
“Don’t wanna sweep… can we not sweep?… Hate sweeping the most… wuwuwu…”
Wen Shubai patiently coaxed, “Be good, your sleeping companion is ready. Take off your shoes and get in bed.”
Chu Weiliang: …
Alright then. So it’s about accompanying the little girl to sleep. She gave up struggling.
She lay flat.
On the bed, Wen Mian also resigned herself to fate.
The two of them, one big and one small, pressed together. Wen Mian rested her head on Chu Weiliang’s outstretched arm and burrowed into her embrace. “A Liang, are you broken again? Why aren’t you paying attention to Mian’er?”
She had never had a mother since childhood. Wen Shubai adhered to the principle of daughters avoiding their fathers, making it inconvenient for him to accompany her day and night.
Thus, he carved a female puppet from peach wood, infused it with a drop of his essence blood, channeled spiritual energy into it, and enlightened it to serve as his daughter’s companion.
But a puppet remained ultimately a block of wood, like beans scattered to become soldiers or paper cranes inflated with breath – often not very responsive.
“It’s A Liang, not A Liang,” Chu Weiliang corrected patiently, lying stiffly in her spread-eagle position.
She had always considered herself inherently cold and detached by nature. Aside from fighting and cursing, she wasn’t particularly skilled at conversation.
But currently nestled in her arms was a little girl forced to sleep, so small, unable to fall asleep yet not daring to move under her father’s tyranny, experiencing what could truly be called a childhood tragedy. She couldn’t help but feign a bit of sympathy.
This was the first time Chu Weiliang had spoken in front of the father and daughter.
As her words faded, an inexplicable breeze stirred the crystal bead curtain in the room, creating a delicate chiming sound.
Wen Shubai sat cross-legged on the daybed outside the bead curtain. Behind the silk gauze, his eyes slowly opened.
In the dim light, Chu Weiliang’s cheek was suddenly stealthily kissed by the little girl.
Wen Mian whispered even softer:
“You’re Mian’er’s sleeping mother. You are A Liang.”
Chu Weiliang: …
Fine, whatever you say.
“A Liang, hum a song for Mian’er. All the other children have mothers who sing to them,” Wen Mian whined again.
This was something she had learned during this trip down the mountain.
Outside, Wen Shubai’s slightly lowered jaw gradually lifted. Behind the silk gauze, his gaze flickered faintly, vaguely expectant.
Chu Weiliang had never been one for such things meant to please others.
But since she had already been kissed by Wen Mian’s chubby little mouth, she couldn’t very well kiss back, right?
She could only rack her brains and finally managed to come up with a line:
“Little darling, sleep tight, the stars in the sky are holding a grand meeting. If the stars don’t sleep, you don’t sleep, you’re Mother’s precious sweetheart. Little darling, sleep tight, the stars in the sky are holding a grand meeting…”
Half-dead, she repeated the same line over and over, humming it tunelessly.
Outside, Wen Shubai: …
What had he expected her to do?
He felt a faint disappointment and closed his eyes again to rest.
On the bed, Wen Mian, content and satisfied, slowly drifted into dreamland.
Chu Weiliang, by the dim light in the room, hummed while tilting her head to glance at the little girl’s face.
For some reason, the child looked vaguely familiar, giving her a fleeting sense of seeing her own childhood self.
…
After finally managing to lull the child to sleep, Chu Weiliang’s wooden body had stiffened to the point of immobility.
Just as she was about to rest for a while, her body suddenly felt weightless, her vision blurred, and she was summoned by Wen Shubai to the outer room, tossed onto the floor.
“Prepare water for my bath,” he ordered indifferently.
A book materialized in his hand out of nowhere. He reclined casually on the couch, leaning to one side, long legs slightly bent, his gaze fixed on the book through the silk gauze.
He was as still as a statue.
Chu Weiliang: Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! A blind man reading a book!
She cursed inwardly as she went out to ask the attendant to fetch water.
“You go,” he said without looking up, casually issuing the order.
Chu Weiliang: …!
Her eyes scanned the room, searching for anything she could use to smash this blind Wen to death with one blow.
“Wh-why me?” she feigned ignorance.
“I don’t like outsiders coming in,” Wen Shubai held the book, lost in thought.
Chu Weiliang: Serves you right for being blind!
She had no choice but to carry bucket after bucket of hot water back.
Soon, the room was filled with steam.
The floor-standing bronze mirror reflected his silhouette and her own appearance.
Chu Weiliang caught a glimpse of herself in the midst of her busywork.
This puppet had two hair buns, a face perfectly crafted to look delicate and pitiful, yet seemingly perpetually joyless—exactly as she had looked in her youth.
Once, in her younger days, Fang Jixue had stared at her for a long time before finally sighing softly:
“Delicate and pitiful, a beauty so fragile, yet innately cold-hearted—just like this mortal world…”
That prophetic remark had sealed her fate, as if decreeing her destiny.
But who could have known that her cold-heartedness would be surpassed by the even greater coldness of the world?
A sudden chill ran down Chu Weiliang’s spine. Why had Wen Shubai carved the puppet to look like her?
Had he seen her before?
Did he know her?
Who was he, really?
Lost in thought, she heard the rustle of clothes falling to the floor.
He… was undressed…
“I-I-I’m going out,” Chu Weiliang stammered, scrambling to leave.
If she didn’t leave now, would she have to scrub his back?
Unfortunately, escape was never an option.
Wen Shubai leaned back in the bathtub and lazily called out:
“Silly wooden thing! Why run? Come here.”
With a flick of his wet, slender hand—
Whoosh—
Chu Weiliang, who had nearly reached the door, was helplessly pulled back into his palm, transformed into a tiny puppet, and brought close to his face.
The silk gauze over Wen Shubai’s eyes tightened in the steam. He tilted his head slightly, bringing the tiny figure almost to the bridge of his nose, and gently stroked her with his fingertips, carefully sensing her form.
She had been dead for a thousand years, yet the legends about her never ceased in this world.
To have witnessed her beauty was to be eternally ensnared.
To have witnessed her grace is the honor of your lifetime.
But if you believe her deceitful words…
You won’t even find the path to reincarnation in death!
Damned woman!
Deceitful liar!
Finally have the nerve to crawl back from death?
Where is my Demonic Glass Soul?
What have you done with it!!!
Enraged, Wen Shubai sensed nothing. His fingers gripping the small wooden puppet suddenly released, tossing Chu Weiliang into the bathtub.
Gurgle…
Spinning and trailing a string of bubbles, Chu Weiliang sank to the bottom, drifting downward between his submerged legs.