The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 41
by Little PandaSpeaking of a Tiger Fallen to the Plains, Bullied by a Fox.
You could fool heaven and earth, but you couldn’t fool a Nightmare Dream.
Longming thought she’d hidden things well, yet once the Nightmare Dream stirred her mind, every thought was laid bare — nowhere to hide.
Zhuoxue genuinely couldn’t hold back and let out a laugh.
“What are you laughing at? If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been scared half to death in the middle of the night and forced to hide here.” Suli was furious.
Zhuoxue suppressed her laughter and kept her voice low. “But they really do seem to have mistaken me for a ghost.”
“If they truly mistook you for a ghost, how would they dare chase after you?” Suli was beside herself with frustration.
Zhuoxue said, “The moment she saw me, she blew the Bone Whistle and drew everyone out.”
Suli looked ready to tear her hair out. “She saw right through you! You’ve had your eye on her for years — how could you not know she’s brilliant? That mind of hers is more razor-sharp than the immortals’!”
“I’m not bad either,” Zhuoxue muttered, sulking.
Suli gave her one glance and couldn’t be bothered to argue.
Inside the tree hollow, the two of them huddled with arms and legs tucked in. The dense canopy overhead couldn’t block the torrential downpour, and rainwater kept drifting in.
This wasn’t sheltering from the rain — it was bathing in it.
Now, constrained by the illusory realm, stripped of demonic power to shield their bodies, their demon sinews and demon bones seemed to count for nothing. Compared to mortal flesh, they were basically one and the same.
Zhuoxue felt freezing cold. Her shoulders shuddered and she sneezed. Add to that the feverish heat flaring through her body, and she was no different from someone on her deathbed.
Late at night, Suli couldn’t see clearly and could only grope forward, pressing her palm against Zhuoxue’s forehead.
Under her palm, that forehead was scorching hot. She gasped, “This is bad — we can’t keep sheltering from the rain here. If this goes on, it won’t just be amnesia anymore. You’ll be burned into an idiot.”
Mortals had always been fragile — a minor bump or scrape could be fatal, let alone a chill and fever.
“Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine.” Zhuoxue knew full well she couldn’t possibly fall ill. She yawned carelessly, tilted her head, and made as if to sleep.
Who would have expected that this dream-realm version of Lishu would take her for someone on her last breath, immediately bursting into tears and curses — a temperament completely unlike the genuine article outside the Nightmare Dream. Who knew where she’d learned it from.
Suli wept and scolded, “You blockheaded fool — you’re sick as a dog and you still went out in the rain to see that Erming! Why didn’t the rain just drown you out there!”
Zhuoxue had no way to defend herself. She couldn’t exactly say she was actually a demon — the moment the words left her mouth, her chill would probably turn to madness.
“Even if you die, I won’t collect your corpse,” Suli said, eyes red. “Truly an ungrateful wretch — only ever thinking about that ice cube outside, never sparing a thought for your own family.”
Zhuoxue opened her mouth, then closed it.
“Fine. We’re both going to die anyway. You might as well pass your illness to me, and we’ll die together.” Suli gritted her teeth. “The whole family line snuffed out — happy or not?”
Zhuoxue took the hand off her forehead and said, “That won’t do. What if I don’t die, and you suffer for nothing?”
“You—!” Suli couldn’t out-argue her.
“Say something auspicious for once,” Zhuoxue advised.
Suli fell silent. She tore off a corner of rough cloth from her clothing and wiped the raindrops from Zhuoxue’s hands and feet, but after only a couple of wipes, her thoughts tangled into a mess, and she simply tossed the cloth into Zhuoxue’s lap.
Zhuoxue was so feverish she couldn’t sit still, and sleep was out of the question. She said outright, “Why don’t I go out and dig up some medicinal herbs to chew on.”
“You know medicinal herbs?” Suli stared.
How could she not know them? Qiufeng Ridge was covered in medicinal herbs. Lan Hui had once led every demon in the mountain to identify every flower and plant that could be used as medicine.
Those that could be sold to mortals for money, the demons would gather. The income could then buy useful goods.
Zhuoxue stood up. “I’ll go pick some, so you can chew some too.”
“Those people might still be searching everywhere. You’d better not go out.” Suli couldn’t care anymore whether Zhuoxue actually knew herbs or was faking it.
“No matter. I’ll be quick.” Zhuoxue wasn’t afraid. She even wanted to find a chance to see Longming again.
Whether Longming was playing dumb, she hadn’t yet figured out. What that swaddle actually contained also remained to be investigated.
Better to go out proactively than sit here waiting to die — find a way to wake Longming up.
“Be careful. If you can’t find any, come back quickly.” Suli looked up.
Zhuoxue thought for a moment, then asked in a low voice, “By the way — how long do we have to hide here? The villagers’ tribute to the Fox Immortal must have a deadline.”
Whatever was in that swaddle was clearly wrong. She had to intercept it before Longming made the tribute.
Suli looked at her for a long while, then sighed. “Two days from now, at the seventh ke of the Yin hour. You’ve truly forgotten everything.”
Two days from now, at the seventh ke of the Yin hour. Zhuoxue noted it silently, said “Good,” then asked, “If they miss the time, will the Fox Immortal come down the mountain to demand its due?”
Suli answered, “No. The Fox Immortal never leaves the mountain.”
Never leaves the mountain?
That strange feeling surged up again. Zhuoxue nodded. “Good. Wait for me here.”
With that, she clambered clumsily out of the tree hollow. The moment she emerged, rainwater pooled on broad leaves drenched her head to toe, and she shivered from the cold.
No one was around. No footprints nearby, either. The villagers clearly hadn’t searched this far yet.
Zhuoxue crept outward, head down, rummaging through the undergrowth and casually snapping off a few decent-looking herbs.
Fortunately, she remembered the way clearly and didn’t lose her bearings in the deep mountains. She easily made out the direction of the shack.
As she walked unhurriedly toward the shack, a thought struck her suddenly.
Longming wouldn’t offer her to the Fox Immortal for no reason. The Nightmare Tribe’s desire to kill her was obvious. They’d specifically built this Nightmare Dream — it had to be to take her life.
If she were offered to the Fox Immortal, she’d surely have only one path: death. And whatever was in Longming’s swaddle must be something the Nightmare Tribe desperately wanted too.
What could it be — something living, or inanimate?
Zhuoxue walked on through the rain, pausing now and then to pretend-pick herbs as she went. She didn’t want the Nightmare Tribe to notice she hadn’t fully entered the dream.
Earlier, she’d rashly gone to see Longming — if Suli hadn’t covered for her with a lie, she really wouldn’t have been able to explain herself. Claiming she was “craving” was plausible enough.
She had actually craved before. Craving a tiger’s buttocks1 — how could that not count as craving?
Thinking back, she felt a bit flushed. Before she’d recovered her past-life memories, she’d genuinely believed the intimacy of a wedding night could be simply summarized as a touch and a feel.
She’d even considered it her duty at the time. How very unseemly.
Reaching the shack, she saw a dense cluster of footprints and knew the villagers, having failed to find anyone, had gone back to rest.
This time, Zhuoxue didn’t dare act rashly. After a moment’s deliberation, she rummaged through the dilapidated house for a long while and found paper, brush, and inkstone.
The brush tip was like a bristled cat’s tail, splayed open. Soaking it in ink didn’t help.
The paper was covered in mold spots and seemed damp — who knew if it was still usable.
Zhuoxue had no better option. She tore off a strip from the bed curtain, dipped her brush, and began to write.
The calligraphy was elegant, the strokes crisp and decisive, as refined as a rubbing from a stone stele — one could tell the writer was meticulous, yet not lacking in proud spirit.
This handwriting was far prettier than her usual chicken-scratch letters. She’d recently mocked Kunyu’s calligraphy, never expecting her own was just the same.
After two characters, she stopped.
With Longming’s exceptional memory, she might even recognize Jueguang’s handwriting from a century ago. The moment Zhuoxue wrote like this, she’d be exposing her identity.
Zhuoxue tore off another strip of bed curtain, switched to her left hand, and wrote two lines of wobbly, illegible scrawl.
「Red candles drink tears, speaking of longing; can you come alone at night? — Xue.」
Done.
Borrowing the word “longing” to echo Suli’s talk of a secret crush, she could fool the Nightmare Tribe’s eyes and ears.
Pocketing the torn silk, Zhuoxue put on her rain cape. This time she was even more cautious, her footsteps barely audible.
The village was dark. Every household had extinguished its lamps. Fortunately, the village roads weren’t complicated, and she quickly found Erming’s residence.
The house was dead silent. She quietly slid the torn silk, bit by bit, through the window slats — like a thief, but with no guilty conscience.
After placing the note, she followed the road back to the tree hollow in the woods, giving the drowsy Suli a fright.
Suli saw her return soaking wet, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, and asked after a long moment, “Did you run into anyone on the way? Are you still in your right mind?”
Zhuoxue was more than clear-headed. The thought of Longming reading her note the next day made her beam.
She took out the herbs and said, “Put all of these in your mouth together and chew the leaves. That should cure all ailments.”
Suli opened her palm, stared at the few leaves in her hand, and trembled, not daring to move. “Where did you learn this? Don’t go poisoning me to death.”
“It won’t kill you. How about I chew some first to show you.” Zhuoxue already had the leaves in her mouth, chewing with her brow furrowed tight.
In this life, she’d never liked eating her greens, let alone the flowers and herbs mortals used for medicine. Every single one was bitter.
Suli chewed with an equally miserable face, forcing herself to swallow with the resolve of someone marching to her death.
Zhuoxue saw her throat move slightly, then feigned a cough, using her sleeve to cover her mouth as she secretly spat out the herbal dregs.
She put her hands behind her back, dumped the dregs outside, and said, “Good medicine tastes bitter. As long as the two of us don’t show ourselves, the day after tomorrow they’ll have to find someone else as a substitute.”
The aftertaste in Suli’s mouth was slightly sweet now, and she felt a bit better. She nodded. “Once they let their guard down, we’ll hurry down the mountain and make a life somewhere else.”
As she spoke, her stomach growled with a rumble.
Zhuoxue quickly pulled out all the remaining leaves from her sleeve and urged, “There’s no other food. Chew on these to fill your belly for now. I’ll go out again later and see if there’s any fruit to eat.”
Suli was, for once, comforted. “I used to say you ran around outside every day, not learning anything useful. Looks like you did pick up a thing or two.”
Zhuoxue wanted to pick poisonous berries for her.
The two huddled in the tree hollow, unable to even stretch their limbs, taking turns bailing out water. They labored through the night.
The next day, the rain still showed no sign of stopping — pouring and splashing as if the sky had sprouted a hole, celestial water cascading down.
During the day, Zhuoxue didn’t dare wander, afraid of running into villagers. Only when darkness fell did she cautiously poke her head out to survey the surroundings.
Fortunately, this tree hollow was well-hidden, with leaves for cover. Unless something had wings and could fly, no one would easily spot the hole in the tree.
Zhuoxue’s body kept flaring hot at intervals. She was growing impatient — wanting to see Longming was one reason; getting some fresh air was another.
She figured Longming must have seen the torn silk by now. The left-handed writing was wobbly, but not so ugly as to be illegible. If Longming cared at all, she should have come to catch her.
She only hoped Longming was clever enough to guess that the meeting place was the shack.
Thinking of Longming’s appearance, she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. The normally majestic Demon Lord, reduced to such a solitary and frail figure.
How curious. This, she supposed, was what they meant by — My clothes grow loose without regret; for her sake, I waste away2.
Seeing that Suli was fast asleep, Zhuoxue didn’t wake her. She crept out and followed the same route toward the shack.
She silently prayed Longming had come alone, with no one trailing behind. Once was enough for that Bone Whistle.
Closer now. From afar, she could make out the shattered water vat in front of the house and the trampled chicken coop — but no figure in sight.
Zhuoxue was disappointed and added another mark against Longming in her mental ledger. She was about to leave, but before she’d gone far, she spotted a lone figure walking through the misty rain.
Graceful and tall, her silhouette as cold as the night rain — it was Longming.
Longming appeared to have come alone, but the rain was thick and the fog heavy — impossible to tell if villagers were trailing behind.
Zhuoxue stayed firmly hidden behind a tree, not showing herself yet.
That blurry silhouette drew steadily closer, its contours and features gradually sharpening.
Longming walked forward with an umbrella, the swaddle still in her arms. Perhaps because her expression was so cold, she didn’t seem desolate.
Zhuoxue couldn’t bring herself to call out “Erming” — after all, her deafness was real, while Longming’s ear-ringing3 was fake. This Nightmare Dream was simply jinxed against her, mocking her alone as a fox.
Seeing no one else around, Longming turned to leave.
At that, Zhuoxue sprang from cover, splashing through puddles as if she were out to silence a witness.
Hearing the commotion, Longming stopped and looked at the newcomer with puzzlement. She didn’t dodge or flinch. “You’re not a ghost. Why were you playing tricks last night?”
“I came back to life.” Zhuoxue’s logic was entirely crooked.
Longming clearly didn’t believe her. Unmoved, she pressed on: “You’re unarmed. You asked me to come out alone in the dead of night — it can’t be to silence a witness. What do you want?”
Zhuoxue said nothing, staring fixedly at the swaddle in Longming’s arms.
Longming finally shifted half a step aside.
The fox’s skin was fair — ice-silk skin and jade bones, all the more like luminous jade when dampened by rain. Yet though she wore no powder or rouge, the corners of her eyes and brows were flushed as if drunk. How did this look like a ghost? She was a demon through and through.
She wasn’t out for blood — only for goods. She reached an arm toward Longming’s chest to grab the swaddle, but when she saw what was inside, she couldn’t help freezing.
It wasn’t a baby at all. Yet somehow, to anyone else’s eyes, it became a baby.
Inside the swaddle, a silk pouch lay quietly — not the least bit human-shaped. How could it be a sick, stunted child?
Was this appropriate? Zhuoxue’s mind went blank for a moment.
But then again, it made sense — why the Nightmare Dream would compel Longming to offer this thing to the Fox Immortal.
Longming’s expression changed sharply. She swatted Zhuoxue’s hand away and said coldly, “What are you doing?”
“I’m here to snatch your beloved, so I can stick my oar in.” Zhuoxue lunged to grab it.
The silk pouch held her Destiny Register. So much for “snatching someone’s beloved” — it was really just returning something to its rightful owner.
Longming retreated several steps, her hand reaching into her sleeve — reaching for the Bone Whistle.
She’d come prepared. Villagers must be hidden in the distance — they just hadn’t shown themselves yet.
Zhuoxue looked around frantically. In her desperation, she snatched up a gourd dipper from beside the shattered vat and swung it hard at Longming.
The demon lord who should have been able to summon wind and rain closed her eyes and crumpled into the rain. The paper umbrella drifted down, swaying.
Zhuoxue tossed aside the gourd dipper, one arm securing the swaddle, the other steadying the toppling great demon. She thought to herself: truly, a tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by a fox4 — a featherless phoenix is no better than a chicken5.
The author has something to say:
Note: ‘My clothes grow loose without regret; for her sake, I waste away’ — Liu Yong 【Song】
Footnotes
- 馋老虎屁股 | chan laohu pigu | Play on the idiom 老虎屁股摸不得, 'a tiger's buttocks cannot be touched,' meaning someone too powerful to provoke; here a double entendre with Longming's literal tiger-demon form.
- 衣带渐宽终不悔，为伊消得人憔悴 | yi dai jian kuan zhong bu hui, wei yi xiao de ren qiao cui | Lines from Song dynasty poet Liu Yong's ci poem 'Die Lian Hua': 'My clothes grow loose without regret; for her sake, I waste away' — expressing devoted love through physical decline.
- 耳鸣 | erming | Homophone pun on the dream-name 珥鸣 (Erming); literally 'tinnitus' or 'ear-ringing,' contrasting with Zhuoxue's 耳背 (deafness), both sharing the ear radical 耳.
- 虎落平阳被狐欺 | hu luo pingyang bei hu qi | Expansion of the idiom 'a tiger fallen from the mountain to the plains,' meaning a powerful figure reduced to vulnerability; here extended with 'bullied by a fox,' punning on Zhuoxue's fox-spirit nature.
- 落毛凤凰不如鸡 | luo mao fenghuang bu ru ji | Folk saying: 'a featherless phoenix is no better than a chicken' — even the mighty become contemptible when stripped of their advantages.
0 Comments