Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Several people surrounded the two corpses of A Qiao. As dusk approached, someone said, "It's getting late." Meng Yingying looked up at the sky. Time had passed too quickly; she felt like she hadn't done anything yet. When she turned around, she met Shang Mang's gaze. Meng Yingying was startled, not expecting him to stare at her. By the time she came to her senses, Shang Mang had already looked away.
Meng Yingying felt a chill run down her spine for no apparent reason. She turned her back, and in that instant, Shang Mang's gaze returned to her back.
Zhou Xiuqi said, "Fusheng, play the flute." His voice was dry as he spoke. Meng Yingying glanced at him and saw Zhou Xiuqi standing beside him. He was looking at the sun in front of him, watching it sink, and his eyes grew heavier and heavier.
Meng Yingying asked, "Senior brother, what's wrong?"
Zhou Xiuqi shook his head.
Kong Fusheng drew his flute from his waist, and a mournful tune filled the air. Meng Yingying felt incredibly depressed. Kong Fusheng played the flute in silence, and Cong Rong glanced at him, but he remained unmoved.
Shang Mang frowned as he listened. The flute music sounded incredibly jarring to him, almost like noise. He turned to move away. Before he could take a step, a hand gripped his wrist, and the familiar scent prevented him from immediately pulling away.
"Don't leave." Meng Yingying leaned closer to remind him. Shang Mang knew, of course, that it was inappropriate to leave at this time, as he would be suspected. But he didn't care at all; so what if he was discovered?
Shang Mang lowered his eyes, his eyelashes were long, and his brows relaxed considerably. Her touch made him feel very comfortable. Shang Mang narrowed his eyes, his fingers moving upwards until he touched her little finger, which was a little cold. He wanted to grab it, like grabbing a butterfly. Meng Yingying didn't hear any response behind her. She cursed him as an ingrate in her heart and was about to let go when her hand was suddenly grabbed.
Shang Mang said, "Thank you for the gift." After he finished speaking, Meng Yingying felt warmth on her hand. She did not pull away, but blinked her eyes as if trying to cover up her misunderstanding, and looked ahead.
The commotion caused by the requiem gradually subsided.
Kong Fusheng played the flute three times and slowly put it down: "Actually, my current master is not my first master. When my parents died, I had nowhere to go, and he took me in. My first master's magic was not very strong; he could only barely kill some weak ghosts."
Kong Fusheng's throat was dry. He coughed and said, "Back then, I followed him and killed a lot of ghosts. One day, I met a ghost who was only five years old. She had fallen into the water and was unable to see her parents one last time, which caused her to harbor resentment."
“My master ordered me to kill her, but I couldn’t lift my sword. My master scolded me for being useless. Just as my master was about to kill her, a woman dressed in yellow appeared and played a beautiful flute.”
"The little girl's eyes changed instantly. She was gradually soothed by the flute music and then started to cry. The woman was like a fairy from heaven. She touched the little girl's wet hair, and the little girl vanished on the spot."
“From then on, I realized that ghosts don’t necessarily have to be completely destroyed. The fairy turned around and asked me to go with her, saying that I only had one chance. I was unwilling at the time, after all, my master had raised me from childhood, so I refused her.” His voice was a little sad. “But my master scolded me, saying that I was a coward, that I couldn’t kill ghosts if I followed him, and told me to leave him. I begged him a thousand times, but he coldly refused me.”
Kong Fusheng swallowed silently: "So I left him with high spirits and never went back to see him again. I was already dissatisfied with him for forcing me to kill weak ghosts. Later, when I went down the mountain, I encountered a ghost, and that was him. He had actually turned into a ghost, and I couldn't lift my sword."
"I don't understand why he turned into a ghost. In the end, it was the fairy who resolved his resentment. It turned out that he was unwilling to leave because he hadn't seen me yet, which caused his resentment."
“My master wanted to protect everyone, so he didn’t let any ghosts go. After I returned to the mountain, I abandoned my sword and learned this requiem from that fairy.” He smiled, raised his hand, and gripped the flute tightly.
Meng Yingying listened to what he said and realized that she didn't really understand him. He had been hiding it all along, and no matter how well he hid it, those past pains would never disappear. Meng Yingying raised her hand and patted his shoulder to comfort him.
"Parting often teaches us regret." Xiao Zheyu's voice was calm. She had faced too much death, and by now, she was numb. But that night still filled her with hatred.
Zhou Xiuqi looked over: "Will you regret leaving?"
Xiao Zheyu didn't want to say much, and replied perfunctorily, "Maybe."
Zhou Xiuqi asked, "Really?" Xiao Zheyu was slightly annoyed, not expecting him to ask further. She didn't want to share her past with a stranger, so she casually replied, "No."
Zhou Xiuqi's face stiffened, then he lowered his head and hummed in agreement.
Kong Fusheng instantly reverted to his usual demeanor, looking at Tiandao and saying, "It's getting late, let's hurry down the mountain."
Zhou Xiuqi left Xiao Zheyu's side, and Xiao Zheyu felt inexplicably depressed. Zhou Xiuqi walked to A Qiao's side, and chanted a spell. A Qiao opened her eyes groggily as if she had just woken up from a dream, and looked at them in confusion: "How did I fall asleep here?"
“You were tired from climbing the mountain, so you said you wanted to rest for a while,” Meng Yingying explained. A Qiao scratched her face and muttered, puzzled, “Why does my face hurt so much?”
Meng Yingying smiled awkwardly and continued to explain, "There are a lot of mosquitoes on the mountain."
A-Qiao didn't notice, and Meng Yingying helped her up. A-Qiao smiled and said, "Thank you."
Meng Yingying replied, "You're welcome."
A-Qiao looked at them and asked, "Have you seen the village chief?"
Xiao Zheyu looked at the sky and said, "The village chief may have already gone down. We couldn't find him, so let's go to his house to check." A Qiao gave them a strange smirk and said, "The village chief comes here every year at this time..." As if remembering something, she stopped talking, looked around, and her curved eyes rolled around strangely.
"Oh dear, let's go down then. The mountain path will be difficult to walk on after dark," she said, then dusted herself off and left first. The others followed behind her. Meng Yingying coughed, and Shang Mang was puzzled.
Meng Yingying withdrew her hand; it had become warm. As the two of them lagged behind, Meng Yingying could speak a little more freely. She asked, "Why are your hands so warm?"
Shang Mang put his hands behind his back and said without changing his expression, "It's just a minor spell."
Meng Yingying sensed something was wrong and forcefully pulled his hand away. She had to get very close to see, in the dim moonlight, that his palm was red and swollen from the heat. She frowned and said, "Last time..."
Shang Mang interrupted her: "It'll all be alright anyway." As he spoke, he awkwardly tried to pull his hand away, but she was very close, her breath tickling him like feathers.
Meng Yingying held on tightly, her eyes serious, and then slapped him.
Shang Mang felt a sharp pain in his palm; this was the second time she had hit him. His face immediately darkened: "You hit me?"
Meng Yingying looked up: "Does it hurt?"
Shang Mang suddenly realized, clenched his fist, the pain was tingling and not very noticeable, and it passed in an instant.
Meng Yingying blew on the palm and whispered, "It will be better, but it will hurt, you idiot."
Shang Mang felt the warm breeze on his palm. His eyes darted around, and he pulled his hand away from hers, grabbed her chin, and retorted fiercely, "I want to." Meng Yingying stared at his earlobe, wondering if there was another red mark there.
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