The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 29

Speaking of the Drunk Fox — Too Ashamed to Face Herself When Sober

Her skirt hiked up past her knees, pale as pear blossoms heaped in snow.

The fox’s tail seemed not to be part of her—one swaying restlessly, the other furiously grabbing at it.

            

But the fox could only ever clutch half of it, utterly failing to cover the rest. After much struggling, she was still chasing one end while losing the other, completely flustered.

The tail tip kept swaying, who knew what it was so smug about. The fox grew annoyed, arching her back to bite it—and got a mouthful of fox fur.

A clump of white fur clung to her cherry-pink lips. Zhuoxue spat it out with a “puh-puh,” shouting in desperation: “Stop moving! If you won’t listen to your master, you’ll suffer the consequences—if you snap your tailbone from all this thrashing, it will be you who hurts!”

            

The big tail kept wagging. The fox twisted her head left and right in frustration, but this time she could not even reach the tip—just shook her head uselessly like a rattle drum¹.

Zhuoxue shouted again: “Only away from home for half a day and already running this wild! Without me, who knows who would treat you like a treasure!”

Longming turned her head, momentarily at a loss for words. All she saw was snow-white fox fur swirling through the air—Lingkong Mountain had inexplicably entered winter.

            

Zhuoxue was frantic with anxiety, burping from the wine in her distress. With no other choice, she called out for help: “Longming—Moqi Longming²—why won’t this tail obey me!”

The wine had emboldened her—she had called Longming by her full name, not the least bit polite about it.

Longming’s breath caught. She had been somewhat helpless a moment ago, but in an instant, that call beside her ear unsettled her mind.

            

Moqi… Moqi…

She had indeed crowned herself with a mortal surname, but no one had ever called her by it like this—as though the whole thing were nothing but a self-deceiving farce.

“Hurry and teach it a lesson!” Zhuoxue added.

            

After a long moment, Longming gave a faint, amused laugh and stepped forward, catching the fox’s tail tip squarely. No matter how much the fox wagged her tail now, that tip could not break free.

“Then why does it listen to me?” Longming asked, amused.

Flushed hot from the wine, Zhuoxue craned her neck backward and could vaguely make out Longming’s ink-wash silhouette. She said in astonishment: “Was it swapped out? Maybe this isn’t my tail—maybe it’s your tail.”

            

Longming had never known that a demon who drank the Annual Tribute Wine could be this rambunctious. Other demons either felt refreshed and clear-headed or fell into a deep sleep—not like this fox, who could entertain herself, having the time of her life.

She went along with it: “Then why haven’t you given my tail back to me yet?”

Hearing this, Zhuoxue actually sat up and started tugging wildly at the fox tail. After yanking for a while without result, her eyes welled with tears: “Why does it hurt so much? This tail, this tail—”

            

“What is wrong with this tail?” Longming asked.

Zhuoxue felt around, her hand reaching persistently behind her. She twisted to see more clearly, but unfortunately could not.

After a moment, she looked up in alarm and said fearfully: “Longming, how did your tail grow onto me? Hurry and call it back!”

            

That big, bushy fox tail—no matter how you looked at it, it did not seem like something that belonged on a tiger.

But a sober tiger was no match for a drunk fox. Longming could not exactly call it back. She gave a soft laugh: “In that case, it is yours. You cannot find your own tail anyway.”

“That won’t do! Without a tail, how will you walk steadily in the future? If the Nightmare Tribe attacks, I won’t be able to carry you and run.” Zhuoxue broke into an anxious sweat.

            

“I can walk without a tail,” Longming said.

“No.” Zhuoxue was filled with righteous indignation. “I am cutting ties with it once and for all!”

With that, the fox suddenly raised her arm, five fingers pressed together like a blade, poised to execute her own tail.

            

She had made up her mind—she even gathered her demonic power, a hazy mist swirling around her palm.

Longming was momentarily speechless. Just as the fox was about to chop down on her own tailbone, she unhurriedly flicked out a pulse of energy.

The fox’s hand was knocked aside by the energy. Undeterred, she did not raise her arm this time—instead, she caught the tail off guard with a sudden strike.

            

Impossible to defend against.

Zhuoxue had just been about to claim credit when a wail of agony escaped her. She burst into tears, weeping like pear blossoms in the rain, and sobbed: “How does chopping your body hurt my heart?”

“It is chopping your body and hurting your body.” Longming had no choice. She leaned closer, pressing down on Zhuoxue’s waist to keep her still, and slowly channeled demonic power from her palm, restoring the broken fox tail to its original state.

            

Zhuoxue’s waist went soft. She could not help collapsing onto the bedding, face buried low, seemingly dyed with rouge—and the tips of her ears even more so.

Longming thought the fox had simply fallen asleep. She raised her hand, pressing her palm against the back of the fox’s head, attempting to disperse the effects of the wine.

Unexpectedly, the fox, who had been lying still with her head buried, let out a soft hum—something almost like a delicate whimper.

            

The sound was so faint, vanishing in an instant, impossible to trace to its source. It only felt like a scratch at the ear—unclear whether from a fox claw or a wisp of fur.

Longming paused slightly, then continued dispelling the wine’s effects from the fox.

But the fox suddenly rolled over, revealing half a face flushed pink from the wine, her pale eyes staring straight at Longming.

            

“I have dispersed half your wine—you should be half sober by now.” Longming’s expression remained unchanged.

Zhuoxue said nothing. She simply grabbed Longming’s hand and pulled her entire arm into her embrace—just like that moment in the spring.

Caught off guard by the sudden pull, Longming nearly lost her balance. She had to free one hand, bending it slightly to brace against the couch.

            

Her silver hair spilled across the couch, flowing in graceful wisps like a mountain spring brimming with cold, drifting past the fox’s cheek.

“How did I end up in the water? I want to get out, I want to get out!” Zhuoxue kicked her legs, thrashing about wildly on dry ground.

Before she could fully disperse the wine’s effects, Longming had no choice but to press down on Zhuoxue’s wildly kicking legs.

            

Zhuoxue’s eyes drifted half-shut, the frustration on her face vanishing entirely. Who knew where that feeling of comfort came from—she let out a long, soft moan.

Longming understood.

She sat down without a change in expression and did not push Zhuoxue away.

            

Zhuoxue drifted in and out of consciousness, words spilling intermittently from her lips: “Jueguang… Jueguang…”

Longming’s expression flickered slightly, unsure why the fox was calling Jueguang’s name.

The drunk fox rambled on: “No matter how wonderful Jueguang is, she is still something you, the big tiger, could never attain. Your fondest wish will never come true—how pitiful.”

            

“If I—if I were Jueguang, I would—I would definitely make you rejoice in vain.” She stammered, one sentence after another.

Longming’s face cooled slightly, even though these were just two rambling drunken remarks from the fox.

She pulled her arm free and leaned closer, wanting the drunken fox to hear her clearly. But when she opened her mouth, she could not help but soften her voice a little.

            

“My feelings toward Jueguang are not what you think. And Jueguang is peerless—irreplaceable.”

Zhuoxue could not possibly understand. With her embrace suddenly empty, she simply shoved Longming a couple of times and sobbed: “So what if she is peerless? I am peerless too. My tail turned into a tiger’s tail—that is one of a kind in the entire world.”

Longming sighed softly, thinking that Jueguang would never be like this.

            

Jueguang was the dignified Princess of Shuyun. No matter how innocent and spirited she might be, she would never be this erratic—let alone reveal… such an expression.

“Tomorrow I will build a cenotaph³ for my departed tail—who is in favor?” Zhuoxue draped her arm across her face, hiding eyes that looked ready to spill tears, looking utterly heartbroken.

“I am in favor.” Longming did not bother arguing with a drunk fox.

            

She patted the fox’s head gently, dispersing the last traces of wine from her, and said softly: “Sleep.”

Zhuoxue’s eyelids suddenly grew heavy. She fell asleep with tears still in her eyes, and as the wine’s effect faded, she plunged into a dream.

The candlelight on the lampstand flickered, casting two still silhouettes.

            

After a long while, Longming finally pulled down the arm Zhuoxue had draped across her face and tucked a corner of the brocade quilt into her embrace, no longer caring how disheveled it would become.

The candle was extinguished.

In her dream, Zhuoxue wandered. She crossed a desolate wasteland littered with corpses and saw rows of ragged beggars.

            

Then, a city of gold and jade appeared before her eyes. Shouts echoed in her ears, as though thousands were clamoring within its walls.

She followed the sounds—and was startled to a halt by the crash of shattering porcelain.

Crash.

            

Someone shouted: “It is the plague! Princess Jueguang has contracted the plague!”

Zhuoxue’s heart was thrown into chaos. She still remembered Longming telling her before that Jueguang had died of the plague.

But she still could not see Jueguang—only a hand lifting weakly, its index finger pointing slightly forward.

            

A servant wearing a cloth mask over her face leaned close and asked fearfully: “What does the Princess want?”

“Hanxing.”

It was the white tiger’s name.

            

The servant frowned deeply. “But His Majesty said…”

“Hanxing,” Jueguang said again.

“Let the white tiger in.” The female steward beside her shook her head slightly. “If His Majesty asks, say nothing. I will explain.”

            

The servant pressed her lips together and nodded, then slipped away with small steps and quietly pulled open the palace doors.

The white tiger lay outside the door in a guardian’s posture. Its cold eyes glanced at the servant, as if understanding, and it rose and stepped into the hall at an unhurried pace.

It stopped beside Jueguang’s couch, its tail swaying uneasily.

            

Jueguang could not sit up. She could only rest her hand on the edge of the bed and let the white tiger sniff her fingertips.

“I am ill,” Jueguang said weakly, her voice barely a thread of silk.

But the white tiger was not human—how could it respond?

            

Jueguang gazed up at the bed curtains and spoke calmly to herself: “My health worsens by the day, and now I have contracted the plague. I fear my days are numbered.”

A low growl rumbled from the white tiger’s throat, as though it understood.

“When do you want to leave? When I saved you, you were covered in wounds. Now your injuries have healed completely—those hunters can no longer threaten you.” Jueguang’s words slurred together, and then she lost consciousness.

            

The dream ended abruptly. Zhuoxue jolted awake clutching the corner of the quilt, and for a moment thought she was still in that mortal purgatory.

After a short while, she suddenly let go—and only upon releasing did she realize that what she had been clutching to her chest was not a fox tail.

Hm?

            

Zhuoxue blinked. What had she done last night, and how had she gotten back?

She had definitely eaten the meat, and met quite a few new demon friends. The Annual Tribute Wine…

She had drunk quite a lot of the Annual Tribute Wine too.

            

Then, everything that had happened last night flooded back like a deluge—the tail-chasing, the arm-grabbing—she had not forgotten a single thing.

Even that seasonal stirring of desire had exploded in her chest.

Zhuoxue’s ears rang, as though firecrackers were crackling and bursting inside them, making her too restless to sit still.

            

She was done for—this time she truly had nowhere to hide her shame!

“Now do you remember who I am?”

A voice beside her ear, sudden and cold.

            

How could Zhuoxue say she did not remember? She almost wanted to turn into a fox ball and just roll right off the couch.

Fortunately, she held back—otherwise the bedchamber would probably have been floating with fox fur again.

She secretly reached behind her, did not feel a tail, and stammered: “My Lord is magnanimous. I drank too much Annual Tribute Wine last night—not a single word I said can be taken seriously.”

            

Longming watched her at her leisure and gave a faint laugh: “You drank the Annual Tribute Wine like it was mountain spring water—how could you not get drunk?”

Zhuoxue did not dare look at her, her gaze shrinking timidly to her lap. She said in a small voice: “When I was in the Mortal Realm, I could drink a thousand cups without falling over. Besides, no one said you could not drink more of the Annual Tribute Wine.”

“Sober now?” Longming asked.

            

Zhuoxue nodded, utterly dejected.

“Then I will have to settle accounts with you in detail.” The silver-haired great demon leaned against the desk, her gaze unhurried.

“Settle what?” Zhuoxue’s mind flashed with countless guesses, each one more terrifying than the last.

            

Longming spoke slowly: “I told you to stay by my side without taking a single step away, yet you wandered around idly all day yesterday. That is the first count.”

“I was not idling either. Besides, you were the one who told me to go to the kitchen to eat meat. You set a trap, and now you are blaming me instead.” Zhuoxue felt this was unfair. “If there is a second count, it cancels out the first.”

“Then I am also at fault.” Longming gave a slight smile. “But what exactly were you busy with yesterday?”

            

Zhuoxue said: “I looked at the mountains and the water, greeted everyone I met, poured tea and served drinks at the banquet table, ate meat and drank wine, and also passed the Leaf Tokens around.”

“Quite capable.” Longming’s praise was entirely perfunctory.

Zhuoxue gave an “Mm.”

            

Longming added: “Since the Leaf Tokens have been passed around, why don’t you follow them out the door.”

“What?” Zhuoxue had no choice but to shuffle toward the edge of the bed—she was too ashamed to show her face before Longming anyway.

She stepped barefoot onto the cold floor tiles and asked eagerly: “How far out counts as out?”

            

Longming gestured with her chin toward the door.

Zhuoxue still felt a bit indignant. She looked back and said: “One moment you are scolding me for wandering around, and now you are being so inconsistent—are you planning to sneak into the Yellow Springs Bureau as White Impermanence or Black Impermanence?”

Longming fell silent for a moment, then said in a level tone: “You were disrespectful to Jueguang last night.”

            

“That serious?” Zhuoxue was startled, thinking to herself: So it was not just the common people of Shuyun Kingdom who revered Jueguang like a goddess—there was also this big tiger.

The silver-haired great demon remained expressionless.

Whatever. The fox had wanted to go out and cool off anyway—this actually suited her just fine.

            

She walked along counting on her fingers: the All-Demons Banquet still had two days left. In two days, Longming would have to beg her to go to the Yellow Springs Bureau.

Two days later, the demons rose on clouds or rode in sedan chairs. Sleeves of every color wove together like sunset clouds, and the lingering radiance departed in grand style.

The demonic aura in the sky dispersed like fading mist, and Lingkong Mountain became quiet and desolate once more. The banquet had come to an end.

            

Zhuoxue yawned from her perch in a tree, watching Qiu Ruo see off the last guest before slowly glancing toward the main hall.

The hall doors opened slightly, and the silver-haired demon lord in her ink-wash robe stepped out, saying calmly: “It is time to depart.”

Zhuoxue was still sitting in the tree, deliberately not moving. She drawled: “Can’t hear you—what did you say?”

            

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