The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 18
by Little PandaSpeaking of Jueguang’s Lily-of-the-Valley White Jade
How could those chicken farmers not covet her pelt? Every time they crossed paths, they’d want to strip her sinews and peel her hide.
Longming lay on her side on the bed, silver hair cascading like a cold spring, watching the fox by the window without a blink.
Her eyes dimmed slightly. Even in the nether gloom, she could see everything in the dark with perfect clarity — including the fox’s evasive gaze.
Truly a small beast — she couldn’t hide the slightest ripple in her heart. Everything surfaced on her face. Even her feigned submission was laced with an untamed willfulness that the Heavenly Dao had never disciplined.
So vivid. So pure.
The fox watched Longming without batting an eye, but inwardly she was already burning with anxiety.
Why wouldn’t she agree? Even a casual word would do, so she could figure out how to shamelessly beg to stay.
After a while, the fox said, “The Great King is the finest and most powerful demon this humble girl has ever seen. With the Great King here, I wouldn’t fear even if the sky fell.”
Longming gave a noncommittal scoff, thinking to herself — just a fox.
“Slick and glossy? I’d say slick-tongued.”
The fox gave a dry laugh or two. “If it can smooth its way into the Great King’s heart, then slickness is worth something.”
“Then stay.” Longming raised her palm slightly and patted the edge of the bed. “I don’t want you scared out of your wits overnight either.”
Zhuoxue, brimming with clever schemes she hadn’t gotten to use, was stunned.
She was allowed just like that? Had she melted into lard and seeped into Longming’s heart?
It didn’t sound like a lie. Her fox steps light, she trotted toward the bed, and with a decisive leap, sprang onto the mattress.
She didn’t dare push her luck, though. She curled up at the foot of the bed and didn’t move, even biting down on the tip of her own tail to keep from talking in her sleep.
How could this not count as sharing a bed? They just hadn’t shared a pillow yet. Truly, the bolder the fox, the faster the goodwill accumulated.
If Longming didn’t have even a shred of goodwill toward her, she certainly wouldn’t have let her stay.
The room fell silent again. The tiger didn’t move, so the fox didn’t move. Within the surrounding space, it was as though not a single living creature existed.
The silver-haired tiger demon took a long time before closing her eyes. Her crimson gaze disappeared into darkness, and all the sharp edges of her presence suddenly withdrew.
Half-dazed, Zhuoxue shut her eyes and tumbled into dream. The dream was no peach blossom garden — it was that bustling, noisy mortal Imperial City once again.
For a moment, she didn’t find anything strange about these frequent, recurring dreams. She only drifted hazily, wondering what exactly she had come to do.
She heard someone telling stories and realized she was in a tea house. But this tea house was different from before — before her lay gold and silver treasures, assorted pastries arranged on platters, and even the shortbread was more exquisite than anything she’d seen.
Looking again, the white tiger was dozing at her feet, its head resting on folded paws, looking so peaceful — a far cry from the swaggering spectacle it had made in the streets before.
The tea houses of the Imperial City were far grander than those in the towns. Even the storytellers told their tales with greater vividness and charm.
The storyteller didn’t tell tales of humble households. It was either the heartless swordswoman or the Daoist who ascended to immortality.
From the heavenly palaces above to the underworld below, he spoke of the divergence between immortal and demon, then of the separate paths of human and ghost.
Listening like this, it was as if there were dreams within dreams. Following the storyteller’s voice, she traveled round the Nine Provinces1 several times.
Then, guards in black robes hurried over, saying something she couldn’t quite make out.
Zhuoxue saw a silver spoon slip and fall before her, clinking against the ground, rousing the white tiger to slowly open its eyes.
The woman who’d dropped the silver spoon rose in a panic. Above her ink-embroidered brocade shoes, several loops of red cord were visible, and on the cord hung white jade lily-of-the-valley bells.
It was the same Jueguang she’d dreamt of before.
But before Jueguang could flee, assassins brandishing blades surged forward. She scrambled to climb out the window, but the white tiger caught the hem of her skirt in its teeth.
The white tiger, usually so gentle, tore the approaching assassins into bloody ruin.
The tea house erupted in chaos. Patrons shouted and scrambled for the exits, while the shopkeeper and waiter had long since vanished.
The guards seized the opportunity to capture the remaining attackers alive. The white tiger crouched and licked its paws, the tips of its claws bright red — all blood.
Someone spoke.
“Hanxing.”
No one answered. It was the white tiger, licking its paws, that slowly raised its eyes.
Hanxing — perhaps that was the white tiger’s name.
Jueguang spoke again: “Thank you for protecting me. But please, don’t do this again.”
“If others see you like this again — blood-maddened — I won’t be able to keep you.”
A sigh.
“With guards present, I will never come to harm. Set your mind at ease.”
The white tiger lowered its emerald eyes, as if it couldn’t understand human speech, or perhaps simply didn’t care, and went back to leisurely licking its paw.
……
At dawn the next day, Zhuoxue yawned, caught in her peripheral vision that the bed was empty of demons, and startled fully awake.
The Body-Binding Talisman must have been released — otherwise she might not have woken even from sleep. If Longming walked just two steps farther away, she would have snapped in two.
Zhuoxue shifted into human form, unhurriedly combing her hair while scanning her surroundings.
As they said in the Mortal Realm: know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win a hundred battles2.
She’d been to Lingkong Mountain, but she hadn’t yet given the Mountain Lord’s bedchamber a thorough inspection. Now that the Mountain Lord wasn’t here, it would be a terrible loss not to take a good look.
When Zhuoxue was timid, her courage was smaller than a speck of dust. But when she was bold, it could swallow the sky.
Longming’s bedchamber displayed a fair number of calligraphy works and paintings — the writing was beautiful, the paintings lifelike. If it were her, she’d probably leave nothing but an inky black paw print.
She rummaged through chests and cabinets for a good while, finding nothing of interest. Just as she was about to stop, she caught sight of something hidden deep in a cabinet.
A small bundle, mostly concealed by silk fabric — she couldn’t tell what it was.
Zhuoxue pricked her ears and listened to the sounds outside for a moment before gathering her nerve to lift the silk out. She gently peeled back a corner and froze in astonishment.
The red cord was vivid in color, no different from one freshly pulled from a dye vat. The white jade on the cord was translucent and flawless, as if carved from a sliver of the moon — lustrous and mellow.
Every lily-of-the-valley bell strung on the red cord looked exactly alike, hollowed inside, with no clapper within.
Without thinking, Zhuoxue flicked herself on the forehead. Her eyes snapped shut, and as her two fingers nearly touched her forehead, she couldn’t help but soften the force, afraid of hurting herself.
It still stung a little. So it wasn’t a dream within a dream.
The white jade in her hand was coated with a warm, oily sheen, the carved edges blurred and indistinct — clearly it had been constantly handled, rubbed smooth until a patina had formed.
Zhuoxue was bewildered. Longming had never mentioned this red-corded white jade. It couldn’t be that she had stumbled upon it in a dream by pure coincidence.
What if the dream wasn’t a dream — just as she’d first thought? What if she hadn’t finished her Mengpo soup3?
She was the audience, yet she was also in the play. So who was she, then? It couldn’t be Jueguang — she and Jueguang didn’t look alike in the slightest.
Zhuoxue’s expression went hazy. Hearing rustling sounds from outside, she hurriedly placed the silk back in the cabinet and tiptoed to open the door.
The All-Demons Banquet wasn’t over yet. Some demons had left the mountain yesterday, and today new guests arrived.
The banquet was fully seated. Demons toasted each other and laughed without cease.
Zhuoxue glanced toward the main hall, figuring Longming was probably alone in the hall again. But what about Lan Hui — had she arrived yet?
The hall doors were tightly shut, making one truly want to peek inside. Those inexplicable, strange patterns on the doors must be the mind-bewildering datura flowers.
The demon lord from Jueming Ridge was still there, her mind full of yesterday’s Leaf Cards. Seeing the fox appear, she quickly waved her over. “Fox, come! We didn’t finish yesterday. Let’s continue today.”
Zhuoxue was distracted, staring hard at those closed doors. But she didn’t want to offend a great demon either, so she held her breath and reluctantly shuffled over.
Kunyu produced a freshly made set of Leaf Cards from her sleeve and smiled. “Stop looking. Your master is busy talking with another demon.”
Zhuoxue’s mind was unsettled. That “other demon” — could it be Lan Hui?
She took the new jade-carved cards and said absent-mindedly, “Why don’t we play a little differently today?”
Half of Kunyu’s face was hidden in a skull, making her look eerie and sinister at first glance. Yet her demeanor was open and poised. She nodded and said, “Tell me — how differently?”
“Raise the stakes. The winner takes all the bets.” Zhuoxue reached into her sleeve, fumbled for a good while without finding anything, and gave an embarrassed “aiya.” “This little fox hasn’t a single coin to her name. I can only bet my whole family.”
Her whole family, naturally, included Lan Hui — and Qiufeng Ridge.
Kunyu was surprised. “Playing this big? Then I’d better take this seriously, so I can win you away from Longming’s side.”
Zhuoxue feigned reluctance, but inwardly she was already burning incense and praying to heaven.
She’d never faked a loss before. This time, she could only succeed — never fail.
Losing would give her an extra way out. If Longming changed her mind later and cast aside whatever goodwill their shared bed had earned, she could drag Lan Hui along and seek refuge with Kunyu.
They were both great demons. Kunyu surely couldn’t be far behind Longming, and must have the ability to deal with the pig demon too. Perhaps she could even undo the restriction on her back.
“The Demon Lord only learned Leaf Cards less than a day ago, while this little fox has been through many a battlefield. I don’t lose so easily.” Zhuoxue lowered her head and shuffled the Leaf Cards, then carefully stacked them — secretly dealing the good cards into Kunyu’s hand.
But she couldn’t favor Kunyu too obviously, or the other demons would surely grow suspicious.
Fortunately, Zhuoxue often traveled in the Mortal Realm and had picked up countless tricks. Without using a trace of demonic power, she could fool every last one of them.
“You fox.” Kunyu shook her head and flipped her hand, producing a lamp carved from white bone. “This artifact is called the Flame Restrainer. It can trap dead souls within — souls inside can evade the Impermanence’s tracking and endure for ten thousand years, unextinguished.”
The other great demons at the table also brought out their stakes — gold, silver, and jewels, as well as formidable artifacts like the bone lamp.
Zhuoxue couldn’t take it all in. This was her first time seeing so-called artifacts — all because Qiufeng Ridge was destitute. Lan Hui couldn’t even produce a single decent magical treasure.
Every single one of these was a treasure.
The fox drooled with greed, then pinched her own thigh hard.
No matter how tempting the treasures, she couldn’t let herself be swayed.
In moments, the cards were all dealt. Some great demons beamed, others scowled.
Kunyu’s eyes gleamed. She gathered all her Leaf Cards in one hand, fanning them before her face like a painted fan, and said smugly, “With a hand this good, I’ll thrash every one of you.”
Zhuoxue thought, Perfect! But aloud she said, “The Demon Lord’s luck is this good? I’d like to taste what being thrashed feels like.”
Before a single card was played, the distant hall doors opened slightly.
Zhuoxue turned her head in alarm, trying to see who was coming out of the hall.
It wasn’t Lan Hui. It was Longming and a woman dressed in sumptuous green gauze. The woman’s face was half-concealed, her garment covered in peacock feathers. As she walked, she drifted like an immortal, as though poised to ascend on wings.
Kunyu glanced over and said dismissively, “That’s the master of the Huangliang Dream Market — the Huangliang Dream Market is what mortals call the ghost market. That Huang Liangmeng is from the Feather Tribe, has some ability, and has connections across the three realms. Her information is better than anyone’s.”
“First of all, my surname isn’t Huang.” Liangmeng had sharp ears.
The author has something to say:
The fox and tiger haven’t seen everyone for a day now. Happy New Year, everyone!
Footnotes
- The 'Nine Provinces' — an ancient division of China into nine regions, used poetically to mean the entire known world.
- From Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War': know yourself and know your enemy, and in a hundred battles you will never be defeated.
- 'Mengpo soup' — the soup of oblivion in Chinese mythology, drunk by souls before reincarnation to erase memories of their past lives.
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