The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 52
by Little PandaSpeaking of the Two Demons Escaping to Meet Kunyu
The fox was quick-handed, but bystanders weren’t necessarily quick-eyed.
Even if the Nightmare King had been watching right here, he wouldn’t have been able to make out what that extended and retracted thing was.
Her face didn’t flush, her heart didn’t race; her mind was still as an ancient well. She’d already made full preparations—soldiers come, generals block; water comes, earth dams1—though she didn’t present it quite so openly.
“Did you see it? If you saw it, then hurry up and let’s go,” Zhuoxue urged again.
Longming had naturally seen it. In an instant, she had many questions she wanted to ask.
The tear marks were clean and decisive, and it was only those few thin pages—not one more—revealing just how certain the one who tore them had been.
Longming had already felt the fox was acting strange everywhere today. She hadn’t expected that cleverness to be used here.
Not only had Zhuoxue hidden it from whoever seized the register, she’d hidden it from Longming too.
She gave a soft scoff, then watched the fox without expression, wishing to see through that skin to every vibrant thought stirring within.
If the mortal world were a vast ocean, the fox would not be a fish trapped beneath the water, but a carefree single reed2.
A single reed could ride the waves to shore, and it could ferry others across too.
“You said you were going to the privy, but you were really plotting this,” Longming said.
Zhuoxue didn’t meet Longming’s gaze, replying with perfunctory agreement: “Mm-hm, are we going or not?”
“Naturally we’re going, but I also have questions.” Longming’s voice was unhurried and low.
Zhuoxue froze, knowing she couldn’t talk her way out of this one. She’d previously claimed she hadn’t looked closely, yet now she remembered exactly which pages they were.
It wasn’t as though the Destiny Register had entered her dreams to enlighten her—that would mean the register had gained sentience, and she’d be holding a wake for it right here.
“What do you want to ask? Ask quickly.” Zhuoxue braced herself.
Longming didn’t ask her to take the pages out again, only asking: “Can you still see the characters now?”
Naturally she couldn’t. Longming knew far better than the fox what the Destiny Register should be like.
Her golden eyes shifted restlessly elsewhere. After a long moment, the fox shook her head, unable to think of a good excuse, and could only mumble: “If I could still see them now, Yaojing would conscript me straightaway, and I’d report for duty at the Yellow Springs Bureau tomorrow.”
Longming spoke with unhurried precision: “Then how did you memorize the page numbers? Could it be that each page of the register is marked with its number?”
“Ask Yanwang to add them someday, and then there will be.” Zhuoxue was still glancing elsewhere, her voice so light it sounded like she was talking to herself.
This muttering was clearly devoid of any conviction.
“It seems you didn’t just read them closely—you went through them word by word, analyzing every detail and discrepancy,” Longming said without urgency.
“It’s my natural talent. Though I read ten lines at a glance, every word enters my eyes.” Zhuoxue found herself a way down from the ledge.
Longming scoffed again.
The small demon who had been pouring tea and water nearby was even more anxious than the parties involved. Seeing the two demons still exchanging words, she hurriedly said: “Please, my Lords, leave quickly! If my master suddenly returns and asks about this, we’ll say you two left ages ago!”
Longming didn’t press Zhuoxue further, only saying: “Thank you.”
Zhuoxue hastily looked at the small demon, overwhelmed with gratitude, but with both hands empty, she could only pluck a handful of fur from her ear to express her thanks.
She pressed the fox fur into the small demon’s hand and whispered: “Whether or not your master has freed herself from the Heart-Piercing Gu, if she asks, just tell her you used all your strength to catch me, but sadly only managed to grab this handful of fox fur.”
What generous fox fur—if you blew this tuft open, it would be as plentiful as a dandelion.
The small demon clutched the fox fur and said tremulously: “Thank you too, my Lord. I believe my master is a fortunate demon whom heaven will watch over, and she will surely break free from the Heart-Piercing Gu’s grip soon.”
“I’m just worried it won’t be your master who comes chasing, but the Nightmare Tribe’s demons.” Zhuoxue’s spirits lifted when talking about other matters; she’d already tossed the Destiny Register pages to the back of her mind, and urged Longming to do the same.
She nudged Longming’s side again. That waist was slender and taut—two touches barely satisfied the craving.
She’d been so preoccupied with the tiger’s buttocks3 earlier that she’d completely forgotten to check anywhere else.
Good waist, the fox sighed inwardly.
Outside the pavilion, demons and immortals were in an uproar. Some who hadn’t left yet insisted the demons inside show themselves and give an explanation.
Some even channeled spiritual power to smash the doors and windows, shattering the glazed tiles until the entire high pavilion swayed as if about to collapse.
“Leaving first.” Longming wrapped an arm around Zhuoxue’s waist and burst through the window, her figure swift as a lightning flash, leaving the demons and immortals below unable to catch even a shadow.
The wind hitting them carried a burnt smell. The fox’s sense of smell was keen—she choked and turned her head to cough violently, hastily burying her face into Longming’s shoulder and neck.
Longming slowed involuntarily, waving her sleeve to fan away the stench.
They flew until they reached the edge of the Dream Market, where the hazy silhouette of the mountain city reappeared, its towering stone buildings suspended on the horizon like a mirage.
Zhuoxue leaned against Longming without a trace of fear. Finding the view marvelous, she smiled: “Named the Pillow of Red Dust, and truly it pillows on the red dust—existing beyond the mundane world, yet still within it.”
Longming cast a sidelong glance at her in silence. On that ghost mask before her, only the pair of golden eyes remained entirely as they were.
But that was enough.
The instant they burst out of the Huangliang Dream Market, the streetscape transformed. The red lanterns suspended in the sky vanished entirely, and the light around them dimmed.
The ghost masks covering both demons’ faces burned away slowly from bottom to top without harming their skin in the slightest, and the wooden tokens crumbled to dust, the green lacquer turning to wisps of smoke that drifted away unseen.
Truly a yellow millet dream4. Now awakened, the Mortal Realm stretched before them again.
Zhuoxue touched her empty waist—she hadn’t even managed to grasp a single speck of dust. She turned back and said: “You didn’t chase out just now?”
“One step out, and the wooden token and ghost mask would shatter. If I wanted to enter the Huangliang Dream Market again, it would be difficult.” Longming scanned the surroundings, her expression still taut.
She didn’t know whether Nightmare Demons lurked in the shadows. The mountain city was past midnight, the night market had dispersed, and not a single figure could be seen—the city was utterly desolate, with not one household still burning a lamp or candle.
Outside the Dream Market, there was no residual magic either. Not only the Nightmare Demons, but even Liangmeng had come and gone without a trace.
Longming released Zhuoxue’s waist. She’d wanted to pursue the matter of the Destiny Register pages to the end, but seeing that Zhuoxue’s mind was elsewhere, she let it drop.
Rather than pressing, it was better to let the fox speak of it herself.
Zhuoxue sighed softly, wiping the faint sweat from her temples, and asked in a low voice: “Where should we go now?”
They’d originally planned to head to Buzhou Mountain after leaving the Dream Market, but circumstances had changed midway—the Market Master’s whereabouts were unknown.
“To Jueming Ridge,” Longming said flatly.
According to the hedgehog, Liangmeng had been ambushed along the outer border of Jueming Ridge. Whether that was true or false, they needed to go and find out.
“Are we going to save Liangmeng?” Zhuoxue slipped her hand into her sleeve, afraid the pages might have fallen out on the way. Only when her fingertips touched them did her heart settle.
Longming frowned: “Though the Heart-Piercing Gu can only last five days, there’s no guarantee the Nightmare King won’t add other gu techniques. You and I will go to Jueming Ridge to investigate—after that, we can only entrust matters to Kunyu. Then I’ll take you onward to Buzhou Mountain.”
Zhuoxue didn’t have a trace of spiritual power. At the moment, she naturally followed Longming’s lead entirely, nodding and saying: “Then let’s go quickly. I’d also like to see what Jueming Ridge looks like.”
Longming said: “It’s not much to look at.”
“Then I’ll just glance at it, not look closely.” That was what Zhuoxue said, but her tone was still eager.
From the mountain city to Jueming Ridge, though far short of a hundred li, was still a long journey.
After half a night of turmoil, Zhuoxue was tired again.
Having just regained a sense of safety, once the earlier burst of energy passed, she couldn’t help drooping. Yawning, she said: “So tired. On the way to Jueming Ridge, can I lie down?”
Lying anywhere was lying—if she could lie on a tiger’s back, she’d be happy to.
Longming didn’t shift into her tiger form. Instead, seizing the deep of night, she flicked a finger and transformed a dead branch on the ground into a white horse.
The lifeless object became vibrant in the blink of an eye. Fortunately, the townspeople were deep in sleep—no one noticed.
The Demon Lord, her hair turned black, mounted the horse with striking poise. She turned her palm and even conjured a conical bamboo hat—placing it on her head, her face was obscured until only a graceful chin remained.
The Demon Lord leaned forward slightly, extending her hand: “Once we’re past the mountain city, I’ll switch to a carriage.”
The already loose wooden hairpin suddenly fell out. Black hair spilled from her shoulders, brushed by the wind against Zhuoxue’s cheek.
Zhuoxue barely caught the hairpin, smiled with delight, then took Longming’s hand and climbed aboard with deliberate slowness.
She let go and began tying Longming’s hair with extreme ineptitude. In the past, it was always the mountain spirits at Qiufeng Ridge who combed her hair—she herself only knew how to grab and yank haphazardly.
Longming’s scalp stung from the tugging, but she didn’t make a sound. She yanked the reins tight and sent the horse clopping toward the city gates.
The night was dark. If she could openly conjure a white horse, then even if she sent a carriage soaring into the sky, surely no one would see.
But Longming refused to conjure a carriage, nor did she shift to her true form and take to the sky. She insisted on riding this wobbling white horse.
The white horse galloped down the rugged mountain path. The horseback rose and fell—quite a punishing ride.
In this life, it was Zhuoxue’s first time riding a horse. Bounced by the white horse, she couldn’t help recalling her past life—when Jueguang had already brought the white tiger back to the palace and named it Hanxing.
But the princess wasn’t always in the palace. She traveled far and wide, petitioning on behalf of the people.
The white tiger was no kitten or puppy. Even when seeking companionship, it wouldn’t whine and fawn. At most, it lingered at the princess’s side, watching in silence.
Some palace maids took this behavior as a predator’s pre-hunt assessment, frantically urging Jueguang to keep her distance.
Jueguang was unafraid. She understood beast-speech and could read the expressions of all creatures. She stepped forward to soothe the white tiger, saying softly: “No one here dares to harm you. Stay and sleep peacefully. When you wake, I’ll be back.”
The white tiger’s throat rumbled with a displeased low growl.
Jueguang scoffed: “I’m going riding. How would you ride along with me?”
The white tiger said nothing.
Jueguang added: “The streets are full of common folk. You can’t very well run behind me—it would certainly alarm them.”
Hearing this, the white tiger could only slowly step back. It gazed at Jueguang with tranquil eyes, its massive form like the mountains hauled away by the Foolish Old Man5, drifting slowly elsewhere.
Later, someone presented Jueguang with a fine horse. The horse held its head high, chest out, as if brimming with ambition.
Jueguang brought it back to the palace, but the white tiger avoided it repeatedly, refusing even to look, and wouldn’t share a room with the white horse.
Then Jueguang had said: “Hanxing, if one day you can take human form, I’ll take you riding.”
A century had passed. Jueguang no longer had the chance to take Hanxing riding, but Longming had taken Zhuoxue on a ride.
Zhuoxue was speechless for a moment. She didn’t know if the horseback was too bumpy, jostling her stomach, but she was inexplicably hungry.
She leaned against Longming’s back in half-sleep, drooling so much that she soaked a large patch of Longming’s clothes.
Once past the mountain city, the white horse silently split in two. The front portion completed the horse’s body, while the rear transformed into a carriage, settling the fox securely inside.
Zhuoxue hadn’t fully fallen asleep. Sensing the horse’s transformation, she cracked one eye open and, when the wind lifted the curtain, stole a glance at Longming’s back.
Why did there seem to be a wet patch on that fabric?
Never mind. The white tiger wasn’t human—presumably even its sweat was unusual.
Back then, she’d been unable to recognize a treasure before her eyes, mistaking the fallen Demon Lord for a big dumb tiger. Even the vast waters of Wugou Stream that the tiger spoke of, she’d dismissed as the ignorant ramblings of a foolish beast.
Guilty, so guilty.
The carriage finally rose into the air, light as a single grain of dust, swaying in the wind.
The white horse trod on clouds, as if it could look up and swallow stars. Its galloping speed was barely slower than Longming’s tiger form.
Unfortunately, it was deep night. Even if she poked her head out the window, there’d be nothing to see.
Zhuoxue could only pillow her head on the soft cushion and fall into deep sleep. In her dream, the white tiger pranced around her knees, lively as a giant white rat with black spots.
When she woke, the dawn light was pale. Zhuoxue rubbed her eyes for a long while before remembering to ask: “Did you send word to Kunyu?”
“I haven’t,” Longming answered from beyond the curtain. “With her, I can only communicate through that thin scroll of paper from Lingkong Mountain.”
True enough. Longming already found Kunyu noisy—why would she carry anything to communicate with her?
Zhuoxue lifted the gauze curtain. A vast expanse of fog greeted her, with nothing but towering mountains and steep ridges ahead—no more mortal cities in sight. Clearly, she and Longming had reached the demon realm.
“Are we here?” She sat up straight.
“A bit further. Past that humpback-shaped hill, and we’ll reach Jueming Ridge.” Longming held the reins in one hand and pointed at the distant mountains. “We’re already in the Jingming Mountain Realm.”
The carriage descended slowly, the white horse neighing as it dove. The closer to Jueming Ridge, the colder the surroundings grew.
Behind the humpback mountain lay a stretch of low, valley-like hills. Not a single tree grew on them. The soil was pitch-black as ink, and from a distance, it looked like a careless brushstroke on paper.
This domain was no larger than the Cangqiong Mountain Realm and seemed utterly devoid of life. Presumably, apart from Kunyu, no Great Demon would bother claiming this place as their territory.
Occasionally, a few wails drifted over, sounding like ghosts weeping—as if they’d stumbled into the Yellow Springs Bureau.
The instant the carriage touched ground, it quietly transformed back into a dead branch. Zhuoxue landed steadily.
This place was too eerie. Zhuoxue squinted into the depths of Jueming Ridge and saw dense clusters of grave mounds—her hair stood on end instantly.
“Kunyu lives here?” Zhuoxue was astonished.
Good thing she hadn’t come along last time. Looking at this desolation, she probably wouldn’t even get a decent meal, and would have to live in constant anxiety.
“Earlier you still wanted to offer yourself to Kunyu,” Longming said abruptly.
Zhuoxue stammered: “She’s a Demon Lord of a mountain realm, after all. I thought she’d at least pick a better place to live. I never expected Jueming Ridge to be this desolate.”
“Still want to offer yourself?” Longming asked, her tone unreadable.
Zhuoxue’s golden eyes shifted. “Didn’t you already use that vase as compensation? No need to pay again.”
Longming gave a faint scoff. When she raised her palm, a black-feathered sparrow appeared from nothing, fluttering into the mountains, looking exactly like a crow skimming over graves.
Before long, a host of wandering spirits drifted out from the graves. Black shadows lined both sides of the path and spoke in unison: “Demon Lord, please enter.”
Zhuoxue stayed close to Longming. Fortunately, these ghosts looked reasonably human, so she wasn’t quite so terrified.
She leaned to Longming’s ear: “How do we ask Kunyu for help? Isn’t she still afraid of you? How would she dare to fight the Nightmare King?”
The words had barely fallen when a faint, ethereal voice echoed from within the mountains.
“I heard that.” Kunyu’s voice came through grinding teeth. “So you thought I was no match for Longming, and that’s why you didn’t come to me.”
Zhuoxue held her breath and stopped in her tracks, tugging Longming’s sleeve. Her beautiful golden eyes darted about, signaling:
You’d better set her straight!
Longming paused, then looked toward the distance and said: “I’m the one who didn’t allow her to come.”
Footnotes
- 兵来将挡，水来土掩 | bing lai jiang dang, shui lai tu yan | Literally 'when soldiers come, generals block; when water comes, earth dams it' — a classical Chinese military idiom denoting flexible countermeasures against any threat, expressing calm adaptability in the face of adversity.
- 一苇 | yi wei | Literally 'a single reed' — from the legend of Bodhidharma crossing the Yangtze River on a single reed; a classical metaphor for transcending worldly turbulence with effortless grace.
- 老虎屁股 | laohu pigu | From the proverb 'a tiger's buttocks cannot be touched' (老虎屁股摸不得), warning that powerful people are too sensitive to provoke; here doubled as a literal joke about the tiger demon Longming's waist, which Zhuoxue had touched earlier.
- 黄粱一梦 | huang liang yi meng | Literally 'a dream of yellow millet' — from a Tang dynasty tale where a man dreamed an entire lifetime's rise and fall while his millet porridge cooked, waking to find nothing had changed; denotes a fleeting illusion.
- 愚公移山 | yu gong yi shan | Literally 'the Foolish Old Man removes the mountains' — from a classical fable in the Liezi where an old man determined to dig away two mountains blocking his home was aided by the gods; symbolizes perseverance against impossible odds.
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