My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 19
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
She Couldn’t Sleep.
Late winter, bitter cold. Having traveled through a stretch of wind and snow, her shoes and socks were inevitably damp.
The candle on the table flickered gently, and Qi Zhi stared at it, lost in thought.
A sudden knock at the door startled her so badly she jumped. It took her a good while to realize it was the inn boy delivering freshly boiled hot water.
Qi Zhi poured some of the hot water into a basin and carried it to the dressing table.
In the dim candlelight, the bronze mirror on the dressing table reflected a dusty, grimy version of herself.
Having been thrown into the “spider den” for a whole day, she was a complete mess. The only thing that stood out was a spot of lustrous white amidst her tangled hair, glaringly conspicuous.
Qi Zhi froze for a moment, then removed the Jade Hairpin and held it tightly in her palm for a long while.
The water before her had nearly gone cold before she came back to her senses. She carefully tucked the Jade Hairpin into her inner pouch and silently began washing and combing her hair before the mirror.
After freshening up and feeling considerably more comfortable, Qi Zhi leaned over to blow out the candle and climbed back into bed.
The wind outside the window was too loud, making her restless and anxious.
Qi Zhi clutched a corner of her quilt, opening and closing her eyes, turning over and over, unable to fall asleep.
The sect she had once known best, the Master she had revered most, the world beyond the mountain she had yearned for—they all seemed to have, in a very short time, revealed an ugly, hideous face.
And the person who had laid bare all this ugliness to her had become seemingly familiar, yet in truth, a stranger.
That pitch-black longsword—it was the demonic sword Powang, wasn’t it?
When the blade took shape, Mu Qingshi seemed to have done nothing at all, yet those two demons of no low cultivation had already lost all ability to resist, their faces contorted, unable to move even an inch.
On the day the black moon hung in the sky, she had used this same sword to slaughter everyone on Mount Qiongju, hadn’t she?
Powang, the demonic sword Powang—
Qi Zhi couldn’t suppress a shudder and buried her entire head under the covers.
“…”
But Mu Qingshi had been injured today.
Injured protecting her.
In the pitch-black darkness of her covers, Qi Zhi bit her lip and thought for a long time, until she couldn’t help but throw off the quilt and sit up.
In the dead of night, with no light to guide her, she dressed, draped a cloak over her shoulders, carefully pulled open her door, and tiptoed to Mu Qingshi’s room next door.
The candle inside was still lit. Qi Zhi hesitated.
Her hand, raised to knock, hovered at the door. The courage she had finally managed to summon seemed barely enough to bring her to the doorway for a single glance—to see whether the person inside was, like her, sleepless tonight.
Qi Zhi shook her head, pulled her hand back, and turned to slip away.
But a soft call suddenly came from inside.
“shimei.”
“Ah!” Qi Zhi immediately stood at attention.
“Is something wrong?”
“I, I…” Qi Zhi tried to steady her nerves and said in a small voice, “shijie was injured today, and I just… wanted to ask if shijie’s wounds are serious…”
As she spoke, her voice grew quieter with each word, undeniably tinged with a hint of guilt.
Finally, Qi Zhi gripped the hem of her skirt and raised her voice a little. “If shijie is fine, I’ll go back to sleep!”
As her words faded, just as she was about to flee, the closed door creaked open a crack.
A faint bitterness of medicinal air drifted out along with the candlelight.
The person inside hadn’t said a word, yet somehow it felt as though she had, forcibly pulling back Qi Zhi’s urge to run.
The… the door was already open.
Not going in would be a little rude…
Qi Zhi drew a deep breath, summoned her courage, and stepped across the threshold.
Only a single candle lit the room, standing quietly on the redwood table beside the bed.
Mu Qingshi sat sideways on the edge of the bed, facing the candle, her back slightly hunched. She wore a simple white inner robe draped loosely over her shoulders, the left side having slipped down to gather softly at her waist, revealing her entire shoulder and a slender expanse of back.
In the dim yellow candlelight, with the bed curtain half-drawn, she held a small porcelain vial in her right hand, tilting it slightly to shake the pale brown powder, bit by bit, onto her wounds.
Mu Qingshi’s skin was very fair; the slightest mark stood out starkly against it.
Yue Jinzhu had cultivated forbidden arts year-round, and her claws carried demon venom. On what should have been smooth, unblemished skin, she had left several deep gashes across Mu Qingshi’s shoulder and back—the flesh was split and swollen, the wound edges ringed in blackish purple.
After a momentary daze, Qi Zhi swallowed hard, snapped back to her senses, and closed the door behind her. Her eyes darted about, unsure where to settle, and she could only lower her gaze and stand stiffly by the door.
After a long silence, she still couldn’t resist stealing another glance.
Mu Qingshi’s wounds were on her shoulder and back—applying medicine by herself didn’t seem very convenient…
“shijie, do you need help?” Qi Zhi asked softly.
“Alright.” Mu Qingshi’s voice seemed a touch deeper than usual.
Granted permission, Qi Zhi tiptoed to the bedside, took the small porcelain vial from Mu Qingshi’s hand, instinctively brought it to her nose for a sniff, and then carefully and meticulously applied the medicine to each wound.
Once the powder was applied, Qi Zhi picked up the fine cotton cloth beside her and wrapped it around the ghastly wounds.
Her movements were impossibly gentle, terrified of causing Mu Qingshi pain.
Yet Mu Qingshi did not utter a single sound of pain from beginning to end. She simply sat with her eyes closed, not even the faintest tremor crossing her body, as though she had no sense of pain at all.
Did demon lords not feel pain?
Qi Zhi pressed her lips together in confusion, utterly baffled, and tied the cotton strips into a small bowknot.
“shijie, all done.” Qi Zhi withdrew her hands and, not daring to look a second longer than necessary, bent her head to tidy up the vial and cotton cloth.
Mu Qingshi turned to look at Qi Zhi, a hint of a smile rising in her eyes.
“Thank you for your trouble, shimei.”
Qi Zhi quickly waved her hands. “No trouble at all!”
She thought for a moment, then said softly, “shijie’s wounds carry demon venom. Ordinary wound medicine won’t be very effective… Tomorrow morning, when it’s light, I’ll go buy some additional herbs for shijie.”
“Mm.” Mu Qingshi nodded, then asked gently, “Do you know where to get the medicine?”
“I do!” Qi Zhi said earnestly. “I saw it when I arrived—there’s an apothecary not far from the inn. It’s not a complicated prescription, so they should have everything!”
She spoke, then pressed her lips together in embarrassment, her fingertips unconsciously twisting the hem of her skirt.
“But… I don’t have any money…”
Mu Qingshi couldn’t help but laugh softly. Looking at her shimei’s visibly evasive eyes, she said gently, “I do.”
Qi Zhi nodded. The voice was so gentle that she couldn’t help but look up.
Mu Qingshi’s gaze was no longer on her. With lowered lashes, she slowly drew the slipped garment back up, gathered the collar closed, and casually tied the loose sash at her waist.
A few strands of dark hair had been caught beneath the fabric. Qi Zhi watched from the corner of her eye for a moment, then couldn’t resist reaching out to draw them free, smoothing them gently into place.
Mu Qingshi’s hands stilled involuntarily. She turned to look, only to find that Qi Zhi had already withdrawn her hands and was standing obediently at her side, eyes lowered, as if awaiting her next instruction.
Mu Qingshi’s gaze darkened slightly. “It’s late.”
“Oh, oh… then, then shijie should rest early!” Qi Zhi answered hastily, turning to scurry back to her own room.
The door closed behind her. Qi Zhi groped her way to the table in the dark and took deep gulps of the cold water from the teapot.
Afterward, she washed her hands and climbed back into bed.
The lingering scent of medicine on her fingertips, carrying a faint bitterness of herbs and leaves, was somehow reminiscent of the days she used to spend among medicinal herbs.
Having seen shijie’s wounds for herself, Qi Zhi’s heart settled somewhat.
The night deepened. She closed her eyes and drifted peacefully to sleep.
…
Mu Qingshi leaned against the edge of the bed, her robe half-open at the shoulder, her expression distant.
Her slender index finger gently traced the small bowknot on her shoulder.
The candle was nearly burned out, yet her heart still burned like fire.
The author has something to say:
Mu Qingshi: shimei, are you asleep? I can’t sleep.
The story enters VIP pricing the day after tomorrow! My typing speed is too slow, so I’ll save up drafts tomorrow and skip an update. See you the day after tomorrow with a big, juicy chapter!
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