chapter 35

The Scarlet Butterfly and the White Jade Butterfly

Zhan Yunwei quickly realized it wasn't her imagination.

The day after she returned to the Yue residence, Yue Zhiheng left for the royal court after placing the Spirit-Confining Bracelet on her wrist.

With the deaths of the Third Prince and Wen Ju, the situation required careful handling. Yue Zhiheng was destined to be busy for a while, leaving Zhan Yunwei without the opportunity to speak to him about matters of intimacy.

Although he was absent, many array cultivators arrived to repair the formations within the estate. Even the guards stationed at the Yue residence had doubled in number. Shen Ye, who hadn't been seen in ages, was also sent to the Yue residence for duty.

When Shen Ye noticed Zhan Yunwei watching the array cultivators, he remarked, "The First and Second Princes will return soon, and there are many unsavory elements lurking in the royal court."

After saying this, Shen Ye seemed to remember something and immediately shut his mouth.

Zhan Yunwei could guess what he regretted mentioning—the two princes were returning from Penglai.

Penglai's legendary wealth was widely known, and its natural mineral veins formed the foundation of its prosperity. During the war between the Immortal Sect and the dynasty, Pei Yujing, knowing the stronghold was doomed, detonated the veins.

This left the First and Second Princes in dire straits ever since. However, with the Third Prince's death, the two would undoubtedly return to divide his remaining influence.

The dynasty's courtiers would also realign themselves, leaving the spiritual realm unstable for quite some time.

Shen Ye visibly relaxed only after observing that Zhan Yunwei showed no reaction to the mention of Penglai.

Before anyone realized it, July was fast approaching.

While the royal court simmered with hidden tensions, it didn't affect Fenhe County. There, young women were busy preparing sachets for Qixi Festival and the Mid-Year Festival on the 15th of July.

Zhan Yunwei oversaw the inspection of spiritual flowers, herbs, and Jiuxiao calamus delivered to the residence.

With the Second Madam no longer in charge of household affairs, these responsibilities fell to Zhan Yunwei. Given the generous spirit stones Yue Zhiheng provided, she handled the tasks diligently.

The Mid-Year Festival was the most dangerous time of the year, rife with ominous energy, and many people would fall victim to it. Most of the household staff were ordinary folks from impoverished backgrounds. To ensure their safety, Zhan Yunwei insisted that the distributed spiritual herbs for warding off evil were of the highest quality.

Fortunately, the overseer of the medicinal fields dared not deceive her. Neither the orchids nor the calamus showed any issues.

"It's better to distribute them today instead of waiting a few days," Zhan Yunwei instructed.

This would give those with skilled hands enough time to make protective sachets as gifts for their loved ones before Qixi Festival, ensuring their safety during the Mid-Year Festival.

Shihu, who had grown far more cheerful and confident since joining Zhan Yunwei, returned with her share of the herbs. "Madam, you forgot to set some aside for yourself. Look, I brought these back for you. Are they enough to make a sachet for the Young Master?"

Zhan Yunwei, who had no intention of making any sachets: "..."

However, explaining her awkward relationship with Yue Zhiheng was out of the question. She had no choice but to accept the herbs, reasoning that a protective sachet for herself might still be useful now that her spiritual power was sealed.

With only two days left until the sixth day of the month, the cinnabar markings on her wrist deepened in color, nearly turning crimson. This forced Zhan Yunwei to confront a pressing question:

Did Lord Yue remember that she was waiting to die?

After much deliberation, Zhan Yunwei asked Shihu, "Where is the Golden-Feathered Bird I gave you earlier?"

"In the spiritual beast pavilion, Madam. I'll fetch it for you right away."

A short while later, Zhan Yunwei sat in her room, frowning over a blank sheet of paper, frustrated that she was writing to Yue Zhiheng for such an awkward reason.

She hadn't felt this stumped even during her academy essay examinations. Only when the ink spots on the paper nearly dried did she finally write:

To Lord Yue,

Under the clear moon, the frost falls softly on my robe.

She figured that even a concise message would be clear to Yue Zhiheng. He, like most heirs of noble families, was both literate and skilled in martial arts. While his formal schooling might have been shorter than others, his intelligence and diligence more than made up for it.

She tied the letter to the leg of the Golden-Feathered Bird and held it close to let it pick up Yue Zhiheng's scent before releasing it.

The bird had been a gift from the Third Prince to one of his retainers. Though the Third Prince had been wicked, the bird was innocent. Zhan Yunwei spared its life, and now it served a purpose. It was said that the Golden-Feathered Bird could deliver letters swiftly, even across vast distances.

Meanwhile, Yue Zhiheng led the Chetian Guards in raiding a book pavilion.

That afternoon, the Chetian Guards had received intelligence that Pei Yujing, a fugitive from the Immortal Sect, was hiding in the Wenshan Book Pavilion.

The guards exchanged solemn glances before looking to Yue Zhiheng, who tapped his fingers lightly on the table and calmly said, "In that case, let's have a look."

The book pavilion was located in the heart of a bustling market. Many of its books were written with gold powder ink, making it a favorite among wealthy nobles who fancied themselves connoisseurs of culture.

The Yue family's Second Master had once been a frequent patron.

It was early evening, the busiest time of day for the pavilion. Young noblemen had just finished their studies, and the shopkeeper greeted customers with a broad smile.

Suddenly, a startled cry erupted, and the crowd at the entrance scattered. In an instant, the lively street outside the pavilion became eerily quiet.

The shopkeeper's heart sank. Looking up, he saw a group of men in black robes, their faces obscured by fearsome demon masks.

Only the leader showed his face—a cold, chiseled visage that exuded authority.

Strictly speaking, the man didn't look particularly fierce—on the contrary, his features were strikingly handsome. Yet it wasn't just the shopkeeper; even the noble patrons turned pale, silently cursing their rotten luck for stumbling into the path of Chetian Prefecture's enforcers.

As they tried to slip away, they were blocked by the guards at the door.

"Step back!" the guards barked coldly. "Until the remnants of the Immortal Sect, Pei Yujing, and the traitors of Penglai are apprehended, no one leaves!"

The shopkeeper turned ashen. "L-Lord Prefect, how could our book pavilion possibly harbor Pei Yujing?"

Yue Zhiheng strode forward.

"Whether you do or don't, we'll know after a search." His tone was detached. "Search the place."

The guards streamed into the pavilion, throwing it into chaos. From the front hall to the rear courtyard, frightened cries echoed, some from women.

The nobles huddled together, glaring at the man who had casually taken a seat, though none dared to voice their anger.

At least in Yue Zhiheng's presence, no one dared insult him. The last person who had called him an uncouth rogue—the son of a Si Tianjian official—was now buried beneath a grave with grass half a man's height.

Occasionally, people were dragged out from the book pavilion. The shopkeeper knelt beside them, pleading pitifully, but Yue Zhiheng remained unmoved.

Without even glancing, Yue Zhiheng could tell none of these people were Pei Yujing or the Penglai dissidents.

This was merely one of the Second Prince's little tricks, using him to eliminate the First Prince's allies.

Yue Zhiheng understood this perfectly, but he didn't mind killing them anyway.

He only wondered whether the Second Prince feared the possibility of backlash when using him as a blade.

Leaning back on the pearwood chair, Yue Zhiheng casually flipped through the books in the pavilion. Checking for letters was common in cases like this.

A quick glance was enough to explain the pavilion's thriving business: the paper was smooth, the handwriting clear, the ink infused with gold powder. Opening the books even released a faint fragrance.

The shopkeeper watched in growing despair as Yue Zhiheng methodically turned the pages. When he realized Yue Zhiheng was about to reach the pavilion's prized possession, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Lord Prefect, this—this is unworthy of your eyes."

Yue Zhiheng's expression remained impassive as he turned the page.

The shopkeeper flushed red, forcing himself to watch Yue Zhiheng's reaction.

The so-called "prized possession" was rarely shown to customers. It wasn't a literary masterpiece but a high-priced Fire Ward Diagram—a rather risqué and audacious one.

The shopkeeper, trembling with cold sweat, knew all too well how provocative the illustrations were. Though Yue Zhiheng was famously cold and indifferent, the shopkeeper was filled with dread.

Even seasoned connoisseurs of such art might blush at the content, yet Yue Zhiheng remained completely unaffected, as if he were merely browsing a scholarly anthology.

If the shopkeeper hadn't personally inspected the book that morning, he might have suspected it had been switched.

Just as the shopkeeper was caught in his misery, the flutter of wings broke the tension.

Outside the window, a Golden-Feathered Bird appeared, its wings flapping anxiously.

Yue Zhiheng's expression didn't change, but the shopkeeper couldn't make out how the icy shards flew from his hand. In moments, the Twenty-Four Ice Needles had formed a cage, capturing the bird.

Yue Zhiheng recognized the bird's origin—it had flown from the direction of Fenhe County.

But where was it headed? To Penglai, or to the mortal realm?

It seemed Chetian Prefecture's guards had grown lax recently, allowing Miss Zhan to send a letter right under their noses.

The captured bird squawked in panic but didn't self-destruct as expected.

Yue Zhiheng lowered his gaze. When a Golden-Feathered Bird delivers a letter, it self-destructs immediately if intercepted by anyone other than the intended recipient.

Was this letter for him?

Loosening his grip slightly, he let the bird settle and place the letter in his palm.

Opening the note, Yue Zhiheng found a cryptic poem:

Under the clear moon, the frost falls softly on my robe.

His gaze lingered on the ink smudges beside the words, almost imagining Miss Zhan's embarrassment and frustration while writing the line.

She probably thought he had forgotten and was hinting at him in this oblique manner.

The first line was a fragment; the preceding line should read: When will you return?

At dusk on the last day of June, the wind picked up. Zhan Yunwei, having finished her accounts and eaten dinner, felt bored. She decided to use the spiritual herbs Shihu had brought her and began sewing a sachet.

If she survived the Mid-Year Festival, the sachet might actually come in handy for warding off evil.

Selecting a piece of pale pink brocade, she threaded the needle as if channeling spiritual energy, guiding it deftly through the fabric.

Despite being only her second attempt at making a sachet, her work was precise and elegant.

The first time had been in her past life, on the day of her betrothal, when she had made one for Pei Yujing. Young and naive, she had poured her heart into it. Pei Yujing had cherished it for years, even as it frayed, refusing to discard it.

In the end, though, it had been left behind in an illusion, along with the child he had with Ming Xiu.

Shaking off the memories, Zhan Yunwei stuffed some spiritual herbs into the sachet, sizing it carefully. The more she worked, the more satisfied she felt. Perhaps certain skills were innate to spirit masters like her—she seemed born to control whatever she set her sights on.

A sudden gust of wind threatened to blow away the remaining herbs. Rising to shut the window, she turned and froze.

Standing in her usual spot was Yue Zhiheng, whom she hadn't seen in days. He was staring at the partially finished sachet.

He had clearly changed out of his Chetian Prefecture black robes, now dressed in an elegant white outfit.

Zhan Yunwei silently grumbled. Lord Yue had probably done something unspeakable again—perhaps killed someone. Given his obsession with cleanliness, he must have changed out of bloodstained clothes.

Yet, as Yue Zhiheng stood quietly, gazing at the sachet, there was no trace of cruelty or ruthlessness in his demeanor.

His deep, ink-colored eyes seemed calm, as though he were seeing something entirely unfamiliar for the first time.

Zhan Yunwei thought about how her life and death were in Yue Zhiheng's hands, and she might have to force him to do something he wasn't particularly willing to. A thought crossed her mind, and she blurted out, "Lord Yue, do you think it's pretty? It'll be the Mid-Year Festival in a few days, and I made it especially for you."

"Taking advantage of the situation, he has to care about her life, right?" she reasoned to herself.

Yue Zhiheng looked at the sachet, then said flatly, "Made for me? In pink?"

"..." Zhan Yunwei hesitated and replied, "If you don't like pink, I can change it to bamboo green or silverfish white instead?"

He didn't speak, his expression cold.

Zhan Yunwei could tell he wasn't interested. She realized that if it wasn't genuine, Yue Zhiheng would dismiss it without a second thought. She paused, then suddenly remembered that since childhood, Yue Zhiheng probably hadn't received something like this before.

On the Mid-Year Festival, when evil spirits roamed the earth and everyone hid indoors, he would be out under the moon, fighting and exterminating malevolent beings. Ultimately, despite his cold exterior, Lord Yue was actually a good man on that day.

With a bit more sincerity, she spoke again, "This time, I'm serious. I'll make you one in ice-blue, how about that? And I'll embroider the first transformation of the Spirit Soul on it?"

At least on the Mid-Year Festival, the people would wish for his safety.

The Spirit Soul, caught off guard, peeked out from within Yue Zhiheng's whip, perhaps having not anticipated such a gesture.

Yue Zhiheng sealed it back inside and glanced at the young girl before him. Her chestnut-colored eyes were bright with sincerity, and this time, he didn't refuse.

He had returned from the capital, and after a busy day, he had gone to the book pavilion in the afternoon. As always, he hadn't had a chance to eat yet. Zhan Yunwei had not eaten either, so the two of them had dinner together.

It was still early, and a physician came to check on the wound on Yue Zhiheng's shoulder.

Zhan Yunwei remembered the injury from a few days ago—how Yue Zhiheng had been pierced through the "pipa bone." However, he acted as if nothing had happened, and she had almost forgotten about it as well.

Not wanting to watch him undress and change the dressing, she deliberately avoided him and went to the outer room. From there, she heard the physician say, "Lord's wound is no longer serious."

Spirit cultivators healed quickly as long as there was still breath in them. This injury, caused by a torture device that pierced his shoulder, was considered minor.

The wound was now nearly invisible.

Zhan Yunwei felt a pang of envy. If only she had a spirit cultivator's body.

The physician left early, and Zhan Yunwei decided to keep her word and make a new sachet.

When she saw Yue Zhiheng heading outside, she couldn't help but ask, "Lord Yue, where are you going?"

Yue Zhiheng paused for a moment and replied in a soft voice, "To fetch a book."

Zhan Yunwei nodded. She had grown accustomed to Yue Zhiheng's habit of being thoughtful and studious. Unlike the rigid teachings of other noble families, he didn't stick to reading in a specific place, often bringing books back to his room.

Today was no different.

When Zhan Yunwei finished the new sachet and glanced at the time, she realized it was already very late. On ordinary days, she would have washed up and gone to bed without worrying about when Yue Zhiheng slept. After all, they didn't share the same bed.

But seeing as tomorrow was the last day, she couldn't afford to delay. She needed a clear answer: would Lord Yue save her or not?

She raised her head, but her gaze was drawn to the book in Yue Zhiheng's hand.

She had been living in the Yue residence for two months and had never seen a book like this before. Its spine was made of gold powder and vermilion ink.

As she moved closer, Yue Zhiheng glanced at her, his face calm, before closing the book.

Zhan Yunwei blinked. "Am I not allowed to look at it?"

"It's not that," Yue Zhiheng said, his tone indifferent. "But curiosity is not always a good thing." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to look?"

"..." Zhan Yunwei hesitated, but the more he said it, the more curious she became, and she nodded.

She flipped through a couple of pages at first, confused. Was this a manual?

But as she turned more pages, the content became increasingly bold. When she realized what it was, she slammed the book shut with a loud "thud." "Yue Zhiheng!"

Yue Zhiheng glanced at her flushed face. "I warned you. Your curiosity got the better of you."

She bit her lip, speechless, and unable to comprehend how someone could look at such forbidden books without flinching.

Yue Zhiheng lowered his gaze and looked at her, his tone calm: "The Fire Ward Diagram and the Sage's Book—they're just pages to me. Nothing special. Besides, Miss Zhan, weren't you seeking an answer today?"

That was his answer.

She rolled up the book in her hands, wishing she could remain as composed as Yue Zhiheng, but after a long while, she fled the room in a panic, unable to meet his eyes. Outside, the wind howled, mirroring the chaotic rhythm of her heart.

The next day, Yue Zhiheng had to deal with the people caught from the book pavilion. The City Lord of Wen had also arrived at the capital two days ago.

Zhan Yunwei hadn't slept well that night, and she hadn't noticed when Yue Zhiheng left.

Chen Ye had been waiting outside for a long time. When he saw the young mistress coming out, he said, "Lord Yue asked me to deliver a message. He will return early today."

Chen Ye felt it was strange. The past few days had been some of the busiest for Chetian Prefecture. Lord Yue should have stayed at the prefecture, but he had returned to Fenhe County overnight.

Today seemed even more peculiar, especially with this message.

Zhan Yunwei understood. He was responding to the letter.

It had been raining in Fenhe County since the morning, and Zhan Yunwei noticed that the cinnabar on her wrist had become nearly blood-red.

Today was the last day. If she was right, the change would happen around the hour of Wu.

She didn't want to dwell on her worries, so in the morning, she focused on reviewing her accounts and preparing for the Mid-Year Festival ceremony. By the afternoon, with nothing else to do, she decided to visit the mute girl.

The mute girl had received spiritual herbs for the first time this year and was now fretting over a pile of herbs and calamus. She was skilled with her hands but had never been allowed to make such delicate things.

Worried about ruining the silk or the herbs, she was extremely careful.

Zhan Yunwei, wanting to distract herself, decided to teach her how to make protective talismans.

Seeing the sachet in Zhan Yunwei's hands, the mute girl couldn't help but smile.

The rain continued to fall in the evening, growing heavier with each passing moment. July was hotter than usual, and Zhan Yunwei glanced at the time, intending to say goodbye and leave the mute girl's house to head back.

However, an unexpected incident occurred. The mute girl suddenly collapsed, and once again, the strange transformation from the night of Zhan Yunwei's wedding took place.

The mute girl hadn't expected it to happen so suddenly. She realized, too late, that it might have been related to the excessive blood loss she had suffered when saving Zhan Yunwei. Upon seeing the shocked expression on Zhan Yunwei's face, she trembled, covering her face with her hands. She didn't even have time to fetch the medicine; using every ounce of her strength, she pushed Zhan Yunwei out of the room and shut the door behind her.

She only had one thought in mind: This cannot happen!

Her younger sister had finally agreed to make a sachet for her brother, but with her current, unrecognizable, half-human, half-ghost appearance, how could she let her see it? How could she ruin the rare warmth her brother had so painstakingly earned?

But after using all her strength to push Zhan Yunwei out and close the door, she could no longer summon the strength to grab the medicine.

The physical transformation was more severe than ever.

Inside the mute girl's courtyard, Yue Zhiheng had set up an array, and Zhan Yunwei dared not forcibly break the door, afraid of the backlash.

Her heart sank as she thought about how the mute girl had also died young in her previous life. Was it due to the transformation?

Listening to the cries of pain from inside and the increasingly faint breath, Zhan Yunwei knew she could not delay any longer. She dashed into the rain, braving the downpour to rush to the storage room and find the key to the mute girl's courtyard.

Thankfully, she arrived just in time. The mute girl was barely alive, and Zhan Yunwei managed to find the medicine in the room and administer it to her.

When the mute girl awoke, she was crying uncontrollably, desperately trying to cover her face.

Zhan Yunwei's heart ached, and she gently stroked her hair. "It's okay. It's okay. I've always known. You didn't do this willingly. No one will blame you."

Outside, the wind howled, and the rain threatened to flood the room. The mute girl had been saved, but the cinnabar on Zhan Yunwei's wrist had almost burned through her skin.

She knew something was wrong but couldn't care about the storm. She ran back to her own courtyard, unaware that the force she had used to suppress her desires had backfired—what used to be a mild effect was now multiplied several times over.

She barely took a few steps before her legs gave way, and she collapsed in the rain.

However, the cold rainwater didn't help her turbulent mind. Gradually, she could no longer see the world around her and was about to lose consciousness.

Just as she was on the verge of losing all awareness, someone finally found her, braving the storm, and lifted her into their arms.

Zhan Yunwei couldn't see him, but the faint scent of icy lotus reached her nose, and for some reason, she felt a wave of helplessness rise up in her heart.

Something light and gentle landed on her eyelids. "Don't cry. It's okay. I'll take you back."

It was the same person. Last time, he had been cold-hearted, but this time, it felt as if he could tolerate everything about her. He didn't stop her from gripping his sleeve, allowing her to press her rain-soaked, tear-streaked face against his chest.

After all, it was a stormy night, and no one could see them.

The candle flickered. Zhan Yunwei's frustration and helplessness made her tear up. The man sighed softly. "We haven't reached the bedroom yet. Are you sure?"

However, the cinnabar had already entered her flesh, and if he waited any longer, it would be too late.

At this point, she couldn't understand his words, but she sobbed and nodded.

Yue Zhiheng no longer hesitated. He closed the study door behind him, and in the elegantly arranged room, only a pearwood chair remained visible, still tolerable to look at.

He made her lean against him.

On this rainy night in July, flowers trembled as they bloomed, and the muddy ground gave birth to tenacious life.

He made his way through the winding path.

Rainwater dampened the petals, trembling at his fingertips.

He retracted his fingers and supported her, helping her maintain her balance as she almost collapsed. He gently embraced her, letting her feel and accept him, his voice soft and encouraging, "Hmm, Miss Zhan, you're doing great."

Her chin rested on his shoulder, and her body was nearly lying on him. She felt as if she could finally catch her breath, yet at the same time, it seemed even harder to breathe, as if she were drowning in this unfamiliar, helpless sensation.

Yue Zhiheng knew she was struggling, but he let her be. She was like a helpless butterfly, and if he didn't assist her, she had no strength. The moment he applied a little pressure, she couldn't withstand it and began crying again.

The night seemed endless, and in the final moments, she could barely control herself. She wanted to push him away, but his soft kisses kept falling on her, silently coaxing her, "Wait a little longer, okay?"

After a long time, the rain stopped, and the sky cleared. The paper was completely soaked, but the flowers, though trembling, managed to survive the storm.