The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 49
by Little PandaSpeaking of How the Fox Cleverly Hid the Book Pages
The blue smoke had flown off within moments. What heaven and earth it carried inside, only the jade bead’s master could know.
Longming’s gaze shifted abruptly — the crimson of her eyes darker than ink. Zhuoxue leaned half her body over and asked under her breath, “What did Auntie Lan say?”
Surely it wasn’t just an idle greeting. Lan Hui was never one to misjudge what mattered.
Longming raised a finger and tapped the table once. A single drop of tea leapt from the cup, spreading into a shimmering screen of water that enveloped her and Zhuoxue.
“The Mourning Spirit Dove died a violent death without cause, so Kunlun Jade Capital sealed the Heavenly Gate.” Longming paused, glancing at the fox beside her, gaze dark and lingering, as if words remained unspoken.
“What else?” Zhuoxue asked.
“She also entrusted you to my keeping.” Longming said.
Zhuoxue was puzzled. “What, do you owe Auntie Lan some debt of guilt? Why that face?”
Longming didn’t answer, only said, “So it was the Mourning Spirit Dove that died. No wonder Tianji dared even to misuse heavenly thunder.”
“What’s a Mourning Spirit Dove?” Zhuoxue leaned in close, whispering — unsure whether the rippling water barrier kept sound in.
Longming scoffed coldly, disdain filling her eyes. “A bird in Yaojing that reports ill tidings and never joys. It answers to the Celestial Leader alone, and it can foresee calamities.”
“What counts as calamity?” Zhuoxue blinked. “The world has so many. If it reported every single one, that bird would be crying day in and day out.”
Longming answered, “Whatever harms the Celestial Leader is calamity.”
And the current Celestial Leader of Kunlun Jade Capital was Tianji. What could calamity possibly mean for Tianji?
Zhuoxue pointed at herself, utterly convinced. “Then it’s me.”
Longming looked out the window at the darkening sky. Her wooden hairpin had come loose; her silver hair was faintly disheveled.
“That dove must have foreseen what would follow once the restriction broke, and exposed the deeds Tianji committed back then. To shut its beak, he had no choice but to kill it.” Longming said slowly.
“He cried ‘stop, thief’ while being the thief himself — so he sealed the Heavenly Gate?” Everything clicked into place for Zhuoxue.
“Exactly. Everything the Mourning Spirit Dove reports comes to pass without exception. Tianji must be in a panic clear down to his fleeing soul.” Longming laughed coldly.
Zhuoxue’s hackles rose, and she muttered, “No wonder he’s so eager to kill me.”
“Precisely because the restriction loosened. Otherwise even he couldn’t have found where you are.” Longming rubbed the jade bead in her palm.
Zhuoxue was long since used to it. Even if Tianji truly descended from the heavens this very instant, she wouldn’t have found it strange.
She watched Longming turn the jade bead over and asked, “Why is it you and Auntie Lan send messages by jade bead, but with the demon lord of Jueming Ridge you use paper and brush?”
The fox hadn’t forgotten how those manifested characters had seared themselves onto her back last time.
Longming was silent a while, then said flatly, “Kunyu is too noisy.”
Zhuoxue thought back on events in the mountains. Somewhat noisy, she admitted inwardly.
Longming returned the jade bead to the silk pouch. Seeing the water ripples around them about to disperse, she tapped the table once more, and the droplets dissolved into drifting bubbles.
“Lucky the demonic core and the restriction cancel each other out. We get a few more days of peace.” Zhuoxue nudged the tea cup, white steam billowing from it, toward Longming.
The times were against her. She could dodge Tianji for now, but if calamity struck along the way, she’d still have to lean on Longming.
The big tiger had thick hide and tough flesh. She’d manage.
Longming lifted the cup, about to take a shallow sip — when her expression changed and she hurled the tea aside.
With a splash, the tea struck the folding screen embroidered with blue birds, blooming into a wide stain.
The silver threads on the screen were unchanged; only the wet gauze darkened a shade — and the indigo-feathered birds turned at once into black phoenixes.
Zhuoxue twisted around, saw the stain, and her heart leapt into her throat. She stared. “Poison?”
“No poison.” Longming studied the cup in her hand, only scattered drops left in it. “But in the past, the Market Master brewed the tea herself, and the leaves were always Autumn Mountain Mist. Today it wasn’t brewed by her hand — and the leaves weren’t Autumn Mountain Mist.”
“A small demon fetched the wrong leaves?” Zhuoxue said.
No. Absolutely, categorically impossible.
The Huangliang Dream Market was no ordinary mortal establishment. Those who served at the Market Master’s side had to be demons vetted and trusted — hardly the sort to be clumsy, scatterbrained, told one thing and forgetting the next. Unless the Market Master herself had named the wrong leaves.
In a place thronging with demons and immortals, a single slip by the host could breed catastrophe. Today’s slips numbered more than one.
From the smell of the Misty Rain Dream onward, everything about the Huangliang Dream Market whispered of wrongness — and after all this time, the Market Master still hadn’t shown her face.
Uneasy, Zhuoxue tapped twice on the red brocade money pouch at Longming’s waist. Even with the bubbles around them, she didn’t dare speak openly.
Longming moved to take it off and hand it over — then saw her shake her head.
Zhuoxue poked it again, her brilliant gold eyes brighter than moonlight, muttering softer than a mosquito’s whine.
Longming finally understood. This wasn’t about the money pouch — she clearly wanted the storage silk pouch. She reached into her sleeve pocket, frowning. “What do you want it for?”
Zhuoxue gave a soft shh, eyeing the hanging curtain blurred behind the water ripples, and whispered, “Don’t let anyone see.”
“No one can see.” Longming said.
“Give it here.” Zhuoxue spread her palm and gave her wrist two little shakes — done with playing charades, cutting straight to the point. “Never mind why. Just give it to me.”
Longming stared at her without blinking.
Beneath the ghost mask, Zhuoxue’s brow arched, and she scoffed, “It’s not as if I’d do myself harm, is it?”
Longming took out the silk pouch and set it on Zhuoxue’s plain, clean palm with a single caution: “Hold it steady.”
“Nine times out of ten, perfectly safe. I’ll only borrow it a moment and return it right away.” Zhuoxue hurriedly hid the pouch in her sleeve. As she turned, her fox ears gave a nimble, lively twitch.
Only when she sensed no movement outside did she walk up to the bubble and probe it with one fingertip.
It was far more fragile than window-paper. The bubble burst at a touch, and the shimmering barrier snapped back into a single bead of tea.
Plop — the tea hit the floor.
Zhuoxue rubbed her fingertips, went over to lift the gauze, and called out, “Anyone there?”
From a distance, a small demon came hurrying over, smiling apologetically. “Forgive us, my Lord — my master doesn’t seem to be free just yet.”
Zhuoxue feigned displeasure. “Today’s tea leaves — were they the Market Master’s pick? And the tea itself — who brewed it?”
The small demon said awkwardly, “Usually whatever leaves the master wants, we fetch. Today she was busy with affairs and had us brew it in her stead.”
“I can’t drink this brew — it goes straight through my stomach.” Zhuoxue didn’t so much as blink. “I need to relieve myself1.”
The small demon: “Huh?”
“I need to relieve myself.” Zhuoxue repeated.
For a mortal, that would be reasonable. But this was a demon.
The demons here had worked side by side for years and knew one another’s temperaments inside out. This one guessed at a glance how beautiful the fox must be — otherwise the one at the gate would never have issued her a ghost mask like that.
How could a demon so beautiful have such a habit?
The small demon’s expression turned odd — but the Huangliang Dream Market was no common bazaar, and she’d long since stopped being surprised. She pointed into the distance, voice gentle. “Honored guest, please head that way. Turn right at the stairs, and it’s just below.”
Zhuoxue looked back at Longming and beckoned without room for argument. “You’re coming with me.”
The doubt in Longming’s eyes was undisguised.
“Hurry. This place is strange — I’m a fox all alone, I’ll get scared.” Zhuoxue lied through her teeth.
The silk pouch was still in the fox’s sleeve, and who knew what the fox meant to do with it.
Longming followed. Only once they were down the stairs did she say, “Relieving yourself — what do you want that register for?”
Zhuoxue gave her a look brimming with meaning and didn’t answer. Inside the privy, she flipped briskly through the Destiny Register and tore out the pages that concerned her — one clean, decisive rip.
Once outside Yanwang’s Office, even Destiny Lines ceased to show. Without her line, she couldn’t read the pages bearing her past-life name at all.
Fortunately she remembered which pages were which. Only counting them out took some time.
A short while later, the fox emerged from the privy built of gold and jade — and made a show of rinsing her hands with jade dew.
Longming stood at the railing nearby, eyes lowered on the rockery and fish pond below.
Zhuoxue leaned over too, puzzled. “What are you looking at?”
“One’s missing.” Longming said.
“Hmm?” Zhuoxue stared into the glowing pond until light-spots swam across her vision, and still couldn’t count the fish.
The fish weren’t holding still, and there weren’t merely a few — no single hand could count them on its fingers.
“Cooked and eaten?” Zhuoxue said, astonished.
“These fish come from Xiling Abyss. They dwell only in bright places, and they need five meals of sea serpent saliva a day — miss one and they die.” Longming’s voice was low and unhurried. Then, abruptly, she sneered.
The smile was thin and cold, like ice slivers pricking the ear.
“Ornamental though they are, they’re exceedingly rare. Liangmeng had raised them for a hundred years and treasured them — they’d grown a spirit of their own under her care.” Longming added.
“Tended that carefully — they shouldn’t just up and die.” Zhuoxue paused. “Unless…”
Unless something had happened to the master of the Huangliang Dream Market.
She and Longming had made for Yunjing precisely because of this market. Could the Nightmare King have caught wind of them?
Zhuoxue didn’t dare voice the thought, and the words stopped there.
Longming turned back up the stairs. Her face was nearly all hidden behind the ghost mask; only her streaming silver hair and unhurried steps betrayed her mood. She said, “No matter. We’re already here — we deal with each move as it comes.”
Zhuoxue caught up and pressed the silk pouch back into Longming’s hand — inevitably brushing her fingers.
It was only a touch, yet Longming jolted as if lightning had passed through her, fingers snapping shut.
“I washed my hands with jade dew,” Zhuoxue defended herself. “Besides, I’m not actually doing what mortals do.”
“I wasn’t…” Longming broke off. “Never mind.”
“‘Never mind’ what?” Zhuoxue tilted her head.
“I’d rather ask you — where did this sudden interest come from?” Longming said.
Zhuoxue smiled a smile full of meaning, golden eyes curving, and drawled, “Why so many questions?”
Longming asked no more, and unhurriedly stowed the silk pouch away.
Back upstairs, a small demon stood waiting outside the hanging curtain, looking flustered. Seeing the masked, honored guests return, she hurried forward.
“Would my Lords care for songs and dancing?” the small demon asked, head bowed low.
Longming lifted the curtain and entered, finding a fresh pot of tea on the table — even the cups had been replaced. She sat and asked, “Where is your master?”
The small demon answered, “Master is in the pavilion, but she hasn’t yet given word when she’ll receive guests. If my Lords want songs or dancing, I’ll arrange it at once.”
“No need.” Longming refused.
The small demon stood respectfully outside the curtain. “If my Lords need anything, just call out.”
Zhuoxue sat and lifted the pot lid. This tea’s fragrance differed from the last — clearly, because of her open displeasure, the demon had brewed a fresh pot.
She looked at Longming. “Is it this one?”
“No.” Longming didn’t taste so much as a sip — she even reached out a finger and moved the cup to the exact center of the table.
They waited half an age. Zhuoxue sat wilting toward sleep, chin propped on her hand as she gazed at Longming, her golden eyes all but drained of shine.
“Let’s go.” Longming said suddenly.
Zhuoxue’s eyes flew open in surprise. Just like that?
But at that very moment, footsteps approached along the corridor. The small demon keeping watch outside the curtain called softly, “Master, the honored guests are in the inner room.”
Zhuoxue sat up a little straighter. From the corner of her eye, she saw displeasure in Longming’s gaze.
Surely not over the Market Master’s lateness — this late, if Longming meant to be angry, she’d have been angry long ago.
Given Longming’s habitual hair-fine attention to detail — could she have noticed even that Liangmeng’s footsteps were off from her usual?
Were it Jueguang in her place, would this great white tiger still be this meticulous?
The master of the Huangliang Dream Market arrived, late and unhurried. Before the lady of the hour even appeared, two auspicious birds flew in through the curtain, circling Longming’s side with chirping cries.
Longming raised an arm before her face, denying the birds any closer.
The auspicious birds flew back to Liangmeng, their plumage as dazzling as the kingfisher feathers on her splendid robes.
Liangmeng waved the small demon out and said with a scoff, “Rare guests.”
At Lingkong Mountain, Zhuoxue had once had the fortune of seeing this Market Master. The features were indeed these features. But with her body empty of spiritual power, she had no way to tell whether the woman’s face was conjured by spellwork.
Longming’s tone didn’t change. “You’re late.”
“I ran into a difficult one — insisted on inspecting the goods personally. Everyone knows bone fragrance dies at the first breath of wind, single-use only. Clearly out to ruin my wares.” Liangmeng huffed in distaste, lifted her skirts, and sat. “Made you wait.”
“No matter.” Longming looked her straight on. “The thing I asked you to investigate — any results?”
She meant the runes on the fox’s nape.
Liangmeng poured herself a cup. “And here I thought you’d come to do business — turns out you came for news. I didn’t send word, which means there was no news to send.”
“Business can be done too.” Longming said.
“What do you want?” Liangmeng asked, entirely at her ease, the corner of her mouth lifting — certain she could produce anything under heaven.
Longming played her game of mystery. “You know what I want.”
The room fell still for a moment.
Zhuoxue lowered her head and tucked her sleeve cuffs neatly, catching sight from the corner of her eye of a tightly shut window. If she could have turned back into her fox body, she’d already have crashed through it and fled.
“The Tearful Eye.” Liangmeng flexed a finger and tapped the table lightly.
At once, both birds beat their wings forward, lifted the cup from the table, and carried it to Liangmeng’s lips.
Liangmeng savored a mouthful, then drawled, “So that’s it. You went to the Yellow Springs Bureau?”
“Your news is remarkably quick.” Longming said it flatly, trading hollow courtesies with her.
Liangmeng gave a light scoff. “I heard Yanwang’s Office burned down. Apart from you, I can’t think of anyone else. You must have meant to search the Destiny Registers with the Tearful Eye’s tears — am I right?”
“Nothing gets past you.” Longming said, meaning none of it.
“Enough. Hand it over — I’ll take it and drop the tear on it.” Liangmeng reached out her hand. “You’ve come at just the right time. Exactly one drop left.”
Longming pressed her lips shut. The air pulled taut as a drawn bow.
At that hanging-by-a-thread moment, Zhuoxue produced the Destiny Register from her sleeve, the very picture of guileless candor: “Then be sure you remember to bring it back.”
Longming’s gaze snapped to her — storm brewing between her brows, her eyes dark and turbid.
All of it hidden by the ghost mask.
This ghost mask was rather handy, Zhuoxue congratulated herself in secret — no need to watch Longming’s face.
At a glance, the Destiny Register was unremarkable — but its page edges swam thick with ghostly qi, unmistakably out of the Yellow Springs Bureau.
Liangmeng turned to her, took it only after a moment, and rose with a smile. “Please sit and wait a little longer. I’ll be right back.”
The curtain lifted and fell.
Zhuoxue seized Longming’s sleeve, urgent as fire. “Let’s go. Now.”
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