The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 47
by Little PandaSpeaking of the Fox and Tiger Entering the Mountains to Find the Ghost Market
A pity — that gourd is still trapped in the Nightmare Dream, impossible to retrieve.
Zhuoxue half-reclined, her tail lazily swatting the cushion beneath her, utterly unable to fathom where the breakthrough she had spent an entire night pursuing had actually gone.
All that breakthrough effort, and she still couldn’t beat a mortal.
At least the restriction was suppressed by the demonic core, so Tianji could no longer sense her whereabouts. So long as people didn’t bother the fox and the fox didn’t bother people, there would be no bloodshed to speak of.
And if there truly had to be bloodshed — well, that was fine too. Longming could just bear with it.
The carriage shaft creaked. The winding mountain road stretched like an earth dragon lying flat against the ground, its end beyond sight.
With no spiritual power at her disposal now, Zhuoxue could not smell the Misty Rain Dream fragrance no matter how she calmed her mind. She could only cultivate drowsiness and let Longming lead the way entirely.
The carriage crested a mountain saddle, and far ahead a city came into view — built entirely of stone, its towering buildings resembled jagged mountain walls, looking impregnable.
“The Huangliang Dream Market opens here tonight.” The voice drifted in from beyond the curtain.
Zhuoxue roused herself and lifted the curtain to peer outside. The sun blazed overhead, and the mountain city stood erect on high ground, seeming to touch the scorching sun itself.
At first glance it looked like a forest of stone crags; on closer inspection, buildings rose from the earth, rivaling ten-thousand-fathom wondrous peaks.
“Something is strange.” Longming frowned.
“What’s strange?” Zhuoxue observed for a moment. No anomalies in the sky, nothing unusual on the ground — the only oddity was the mountain of buildings that looked like a mountain.
Longming took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled the sour, rancid odor, and said quietly, “The Misty Rain Dream is far too thick — like falling into a perfume box.”
Thinking of that rotten-fruit-in-mud stench, Zhuoxue said with schadenfreude, “The capable do more work. Keep sniffing and find the right spot — don’t lead me astray.”
After all, the fox couldn’t smell a thing.
“Even in the Nightmare Dream, I never led you into a ditch,” Longming said.
Zhuoxue felt her fox ear, plucked a small tuft of fur, and blew it toward Longming.
This time it was she who couldn’t retract her ears. Whatever discomfort Longming felt, she would just have to endure.
Longming turned her head and caught sight of that tuft of fox fur floating forward less than a chi before, like a falling leaf returning to its roots, the wind blew it right back into the fox’s face.
The fox’s nose tickled, and she sneezed.
The carriage swayed toward the mountain city. It happened to be market day — people streamed in and out of the city gates, the bustle no less lively than Yunjing.
The towering stone buildings inside the city were a mystery of construction. Some were built by stacking stone upon stone; others resembled wind-eroded pillars, hollowed out from within, with doorways carved into them for people to live in.
Before the horse could step through, a gate guard stopped them with cupped hands. “The roads inside the city are rugged and unsuitable for carriages. Please leave your vehicle outside.”
Longming lifted her bamboo hat slightly, gazing through the gate, and said calmly, “May we ride horses?”
The guard smiled. “It’s market day, and there are too many common folk coming and going — riding isn’t convenient either. But you may lead them.”
Looking ahead, one could indeed see narrow, winding roads — either steep slopes or stone steps — quite unsuitable for carriages.
“Thank you for the warning.” Longming pulled the reins and guided the white horse in a slow turn, walking from the city gate toward the other side.
Quite a few carriages and horses were parked outside the gate, some still loaded with goods, each attended by merchants keeping watch.
Zhuoxue lifted the hanging curtain and openly surveyed the scene, her fox ears twitching at the sounds. She said in astonishment, “How were these buildings constructed? To build so high, and carve the walls so thin — could mortal cultivators have used spells to build them?”
“Mountain people have their own wisdom. There are no traces of spellwork here, nor celestial guardians, and temple incense is sparse. It seems the mountain people don’t worship gods — they trust only their own two hands.” Longming found an empty spot, dismounted, and secured the reins. She turned back. “Let’s go in and have a look.”
After swaying in the carriage for more than half a day, Zhuoxue had long since grown restless. At the word, she leapt down — only to find her legs had no strength. Her knees buckled, and she nearly planted herself face-first on the ground.
Longming reached out to steady her. Rather than scolding her for recklessness, she simply said, “Be careful.”
The more Zhuoxue thought about it, the more preposterous it seemed. Steeling herself, she plucked a fistful of ear fur right in front of Longming and blew it all into her face.
Fox fur drifted like snow.
Longming gave her a look, withdrew her hand, and said, “Without demonic power to sustain you, your self-healing isn’t what it used to be. Best pluck less fox fur.”
The implication: don’t go bald.
Zhuoxue was rather astonished — not even angry, and speaking so tactfully.
When had the white-furred tiger become a hairless great bug1?
Never mind, better stop plucking. Any more and she’d be the hairless fox first.
Outside the city lay range upon range of steep mountains. The road they had traveled wound in countless twists, without a single boundary marker in sight.
“What’s this place called?” Zhuoxue looked around.
Longming answered, “Muhui City. Legend has it that at dusk, the city is dyed gold. But I have never been here before — that is just hearsay.”
The mountains were high and steep. If they could touch the hanging sun, they could surely catch the evening glow too.
“It’s still early. Let’s go in and look around — the Nightmare King can’t cause trouble again.” Zhuoxue looked toward the city gate.
“Can you walk?” Longming looked at her.
“Of course.” Zhuoxue was puzzled — why wouldn’t she be able to walk?
After two steps, she realized that her legs were heavier than they had been in the Wangchuan River.
If she were a spring right now, she would be a dried, cracked one — not an ounce of strength to muster, her mouth parched and tongue dry.
Her lingtai had thrown all caution to the wind. It wanted neither the restriction nor her to have an easy time — it was fighting with red-eyed fury.
Left with no choice, Zhuoxue leaned against the stone wall and shuffled forward at a snail’s pace. After a few steps she was panting, fixing her eyes plaintively on Longming — saying nothing, trusting her to understand.
Just a little support would do. She had been attentive to that degree already — surely she would grasp the meaning.
A child came running past with laughter, nearly colliding with her. Zhuoxue shifted half a step to the side — and that alone took everything she had.
She hadn’t expected that if the city gate was busy, the inside would be even more so. As far as the eye could see, a sea of people — bobbing heads like waves on the water.
Zhuoxue mumbled, “If I squeeze into the crowd now, would I not be carried forward without taking a single step myself?”
“What do you mean?” Longming was still sniffing the Misty Rain Dream fragrance, her brow slightly furrowed.
Too thick — at least twice as concentrated as usual.
“The crowd would push me forward, and I could just drift with the current.” Zhuoxue stepped forward as she spoke.
Longming, however, stopped. Without hurry, she swept the long hair behind her to the front.
The black hair was like silk, its sheen surpassing the flowing light of a ceremonial robe — so smooth it could surely be combed straight through in one stroke.
Zhuoxue turned her head, but the bamboo hat blocked too much — she couldn’t make out Longming’s expression at all.
Longming bent slightly and said calmly, “Get on.”
Get on what — her back?
Zhuoxue thought she had misheard, but ever since waking, her ears had been sharper than ever. She shouldn’t have heard wrong.
The previous two times she had been dazed — once just after breaking through, once drunk. Even when Longming had held her then, she had been oblivious.
Now her mind was perfectly clear. To so openly climb onto Longming’s back — she felt a flush of embarrassment.
A century ago, she had used the great white tiger as a footrest without a second thought. Back then the white tiger was just a white tiger — docile and well-behaved, whether stepped on or leaned against, a perfect fit.
A few days ago too, when Longming carried her back to the mortal realm, it had been in white tiger form.
Today was different. This was no great white tiger — this was a beautiful woman, cold and proud, who even when telling someone to get on her back sounded like she was issuing an order.
“Or would you rather drift with the crowd?” Longming’s tone was flat — not mocking, just an ordinary question.
Zhuoxue mulled it over. Could it be — after a single night, she was already happy to let me be my own past life’s stand-in?
Longming, oh Longming — your resolve is wavering.
Longming’s gaze was calm, not a single word of urging.
Zhuoxue walked forward and climbed on. “I won’t stand on ceremony with you — and I imagine you weren’t being courteous either.”
She lowered her head and saw a stretch of pale but not gaunt neck, and a few stray black hairs that hadn’t been swept forward, caught squarely beneath her.
Zhuoxue hooked them with her index finger and flicked them to the front.
“You…” The roots of Longming’s hair tingled. “What are you doing?”
Zhuoxue answered honestly, “I was sitting on your hair.”
“It’s fine.” Longming walked into the crowd with steady steps, her thoughts unreadable.
Zhuoxue, conserving her energy, couldn’t help marveling. “How did they hollow this out? This isn’t a mud wall — it’s a stone mountain. And they carved stairs and floors inside it. Truly remarkable.”
She chattered ceaselessly, twisting this way and that as she looked around, completely forgetting how sensitive she had been last night at the slightest movement.
It was as if a rattle drum2 were strapped to Longming’s back — if Longming’s arms hadn’t clamped down tight enough, the fox would surely have gone tumbling legs in the air.
“This city was built two hundred years ago. Even dripping water can wear through stone — what difficulty is there for mortals carving out a city?” Longming applied slight pressure, nudging the slipping fox back up.
Zhuoxue froze, pressing herself flat against Longming’s back, both arms looping around Longming’s neck and holding tight.
Strange.
What was strange this time wasn’t Longming — it was herself. Why wasn’t she suffering mating heat today?
Right now Longming wasn’t in her winged tiger form. Her back was slender, not broad, and when Longming spoke, Zhuoxue could feel the vibration of her chest.
As if she and Longming were intimately close, with not a hair’s breadth between them.
Zhuoxue leaned back slightly. Her heart stirred — and the source of that stirring could be none other than Longming.
She looked away. “What did you say about the Misty Rain Dream fragrance earlier?”
“What?”
The crowd was too noisy — Longming couldn’t hear her.
Zhuoxue had to press her chin onto Longming’s shoulder and repeat herself word for word.
Her breath fell by Longming’s ear, warm — but without the dampness of last night, the kind that seemed it could be wrung out like water.
This time Longming heard clearly. She fell silent for a long while before saying, “Too thick. It has never been like this before.”
In the crowd, Longming’s voice was masked by an invisible force. The people around her could only see her lips move but heard nothing — they assumed the market noise was drowning out her words.
Only Zhuoxue heard clearly. She guessed, “Maybe the spices were spilled?”
Longming shook her head. “Liangmeng isn’t the careless type. In all the time I have known her, the Misty Rain Dream fragrance has never gone wrong.”
“Perhaps she suddenly felt lazy and had an attendant burn the incense for her, and that person happened to be clumsy, making it this strong.” Zhuoxue mulled it over.
Longming’s brows, distant as mountain ridges, furrowed slightly. “Not impossible.”
“We’ll find out why once we enter the Huangliang Dream Market tonight.” Zhuoxue was already parched — not just her legs failing her, but her lips and teeth dry too.
She was so tired she didn’t want to say another word. Her head tilted to the side and she drifted into a heavy sleep, without so much as a word of warning.
Longming glanced over her shoulder and saw half of the fox’s pale face.
Silver and black hair fell messily across her features. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings — and from whatever dream she was having, she mumbled something.
Listening closely — she was calling for the gourd ladle.
Longming had no words.
At midnight, Zhuoxue was jolted awake by the gong of a night watchman3. She opened her eyes to find herself inside a stone chamber, brightly lit with candles set all around.
Perhaps from years of accumulation, the candle wax had flowed down like stalactites hanging from a cave ceiling.
She half-closed her eyes and sat up. Seeing Longming, she breathed a small sigh of relief and looked around. “Where is this? We haven’t gone back in again, have we?”
She had only entered the Nightmare Dream once, and already she was a bird startled by the bowstring4.
“An inn.” Longming raised a hand and, without warning, snuffed out the candles. “It’s time.”
Zhuoxue walked barefoot to the window, guided by the light outside. Her brilliant golden eyes darted about. “Is it open? Where’s the entrance to the Dream Market?”
The city’s buildings were ablaze with light. A night watchman climbed the stone steps with his copper gong. Even at the third watch5, there were still vendors hawking their wares at stalls.
This was still Muhui City — the Huangliang Dream Market was nowhere in sight.
Longming closed her eyes and inhaled, pinpointing the Misty Rain Dream fragrance. She turned. “Follow me. Where the fragrance is thickest is where we need to go.”
Since they were still in the inn, Zhuoxue said “Wait a moment” and went to examine herself at the dressing case.
A bronze mirror stood on the dressing case, its surface clear enough to reflect every strand of hair.
Zhuoxue already knew her hair had turned half-black and half-white, but she didn’t know whether her appearance had changed as well. Could she be looking more and more like her past life?
She leaned closer to the mirror and couldn’t help but startle.
Her features were unchanged, but her pupils had transformed to resemble her beast form — no longer amber, but like a golden moon in the sky.
Only, the moon wasn’t full. Instead, they were vertical, like lozenge stones.
More and more like a demon. She gathered her long hair, suddenly turned to look at Longming — and caught Longming averting her gaze.
That gaze, which had been fixed and steady, snapped away like a page being turned, swishing to the other side.
Zhuoxue muttered to herself — a great demon afraid of a gourd was baseless nonsense6, only good for fooling herself. This big tiger’s mind really had been scrambled by the lightning.
If even fake lightning had such power, the real thing would leave both Longming and her half-paralyzed, wouldn’t it?
Better not. As things stood, she who lacked the strength to truss a chicken — how could she possibly carry a half-paralyzed Longming?
“Longming, my eyes are golden — look at them,” she said deliberately.
“Mm.” Longming didn’t look. She only said, “Let’s go.”
Zhuoxue released the lock of hair, suspicious, and followed weakly.
Exiting this stone-carved inn required climbing a flight of stairs — the entrance, unexpectedly, was at the top. Their room had been in one of the lower parts of the city.
Zhuoxue was drenched in sweat after a few steps. She desperately wanted to transform into her fox form and perch on Longming’s shoulder, but with her spiritual power depleted, she was stuck in human form.
Unable to walk another step, she plopped down on the stone stairs and swung her legs at Longming.
The mountain city’s night was thick and dark. The fox sat with her long hair spilling down, leaning against the mountain wall, those golden eyes darting about — sly and out of place, like a moon’s reflection in water, scattering at the slightest touch.
Longming turned her head. “Can’t walk anymore?”
The fox extended both arms, her sleeves sliding down to hang at her elbows.
Not walking. Carry me.
Longming said, “It’s only two steps.”
The fox let her arms drop to her knees, tilting to one side as she regarded the great demon nearby. “Why won’t you look at me?”
The great demon removed her bamboo hat. Her hair was slightly disheveled from being pressed down. She raised a hand to smooth the stray strands, then turned her eyes and gazed over quietly.
This time, she didn’t look away.
Footnotes
- 大虫 | dà chóng | Classical Chinese colloquial term for 'tiger,' literally meaning 'great bug'; used as a euphemism in vernacular literature.
- 拨浪鼓 | bō làng gǔ | Traditional Chinese rattle drum with two small balls on strings that strike the drumhead when swung.
- 敲更人 | qiāo gēng rén | Night watchman who strikes a gong or clappers to mark the traditional watches of the night.
- 惊弓之鸟 | jīng gōng zhī niǎo | Literally 'a bird startled by the bowstring'; from a classical tale of a bird that drops from its perch at the mere sound of a bowstring, meaning someone easily frightened by past trauma.
- 三更 | sān gēng | The third watch of the night in traditional Chinese timekeeping, approximately 11:00 PM to 1:00 AM.
- 无稽之谈 | wú jī zhī tán | Classical idiom meaning 'baseless nonsense' or 'absurd claims'; literally 'talk without basis,' used to dismiss unfounded claims.
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