So-Called Master and Disciple

At the thought of that name, a cold calculation flashed through Lin Hai's eyes, and the smile at the corner of his lips became deeply meaningful.

Bibi Dong watched him burst into laughter one moment, then wear that "sinister" expression that sent chills down her spine the next. Finally unable to bear it any longer, she raised a hand and gave his forehead a crisp knock.

"Ow!"

Lin Hai clutched his forehead and looked at her with a baffled, aggrieved expression.

Seeing his innocent yet comical look, the tension in Bibi Dong's heart inexplicably eased. She could not help but snort with laughter, then began giggling as well.

Their bright laughter echoed through the empty hall, scattering all unease and ambiguity and leaving behind only the rare, pure warmth between master and disciple.

Then, without giving her any chance to object, Lin Hai took Bibi Dong's hand and led her straight to the Pope's Throne, pressing her down into it.

Facing the surprise gathered between her brows, he slowly sat beside her, his expression as frank and open as an unfurled sacred scripture.

He poured out every last instruction he had prepared before departing—

From drinking dew at dawn to going to bed at midnight, he practically broke down every principle of health preservation from his past life.

As he grew more animated, he suddenly bent down and took hold of those crystalline jade feet.

The Purple Gold Heaven-Reaching Heels slipped off with ease, revealing lustrous curves beneath her silk stockings, like sacred treasures carved from the finest white jade by a little thief.

Her arches curved like crescent moons, her ten toes like pink shells set upon snowy satin. Even the bend of her ankles carried the flawless sheen of porcelain.

Lin Hai's fingertips hovered for half a breath, and a startled thought flashed through his heart. What a body tempered by Soul Power!

In his past life, even noble ladies raised in secluded chambers could hardly avoid deforming their foot bones after years of walking in blade-like high heels.

How could they compare to these jade feet before him, still translucent and pristine as crystals formed from fresh snow?

His palm pressed against her cool skin, his knuckles skillfully working toward the Yongquan acupoint. When he touched that soft indentation, he suddenly found it amusing.

I laughed at Little Fox before, but now I've become Your Holiness the Pope's personal foot masseur. I'm officially on the clock!

Dusk washed over the stained-glass windows of the Pope's Palace like a tide, inch by inch stretching Bibi Dong's seated figure across the cold stone tiles.

Her rebellious disciple's sudden intimacy made her fingertips tremble—

His earlier embrace had still carried a young man's recklessness.

But now, his talk of acupoints and health preservation had become another excuse to knead her feet.

Still, with his head lowered and his focus so intent, he did look somewhat like a Healing System Spirit Master.

It was only that the occasional heat flashing through his eyes, along with the silent bob of his throat, always made her feel that this wretched disciple would reveal his true colors the next moment and devour his master as though she were a delicacy.

"Teacher wears Sky-High Heels every day. Your Yongquan acupoint must be congested..."

His fingertip pressed into a shallow hollow in the sole of her foot, his force as precise as though he were plucking a qin string.

Bibi Dong curled her toes, silently gathering strength in the Pope's scepter in her hand. If she crushed this wretched disciple into a crack in the floor right now, it would count as cleansing the sect...

But when her gaze fell upon his tightly furrowed brows, that trace of embarrassment and annoyance scattered like smoke.

This little bastard would soon be traveling far away. His two hours of rambling health advice were only meant to grind his concern into fine sand and rub every grain into the gaps between her bones.

In the end, she loosened her grip on the scepter. The jewel on the throne's armrest dug into the crook of her arm, yet she felt as though she were sinking into clouds, hearing only his voice flow up and down in pitch.

"If your headaches flare up, make sure to send me word immediately..."

"Handle state affairs by focusing on the important matters and letting go of the trivial ones. Leave the little things to Elder Ju and the others. Do you really think you're made of iron..."

Lin Hai suddenly stopped speaking. Stars had already climbed into the sky beyond the window, coating the papal crown with a cold glimmer like shattered diamonds.

"Did Teacher remember everything I just said?"

Bibi Dong did not answer. Her fingers dug into her palm, while only a faint frost settled over her face.

"Travel in my old Saintess Carriage."

When he opened his mouth to refuse, one sweep of her eyes cut off his words.

"If you think it's too conspicuous, I'll have someone alter its appearance."

Her voice paused, and in the end, a nearly imperceptible trace of bitterness slipped through.

"Play another piece."

"What would you like to hear?" He summoned the Flowing Light Qin. A dim blue gleam ran across its body, making the place where their robes overlapped seem like converging galaxies.

"Anything."

She closed her eyes and leaned back.

The moment the strings trembled, it was as though a stone had been cast into the dusk-filled Pope's Palace.

The melody surged from Lin Hai's fingertips. Its rhythm was more urgent than "Tomb of Deep Affection," carrying a sand-like bitterness and regret as it crashed against the painted dome.

The notes spiraled upward like lone smoke over a desert. Every trill tore at the warp and weft of Destiny—

It was clearly the same unrequited love, yet there was no resentment. There was only the stillness of one trapped in the shackles of reincarnation, and an obsession that burned the heart and gnawed the bones, condensed into amber.

Bibi Dong's fingers unconsciously dug into the gold leaf of the throne's armrest.

The qin music seemed to corrode cracks into the air.

The young man's profile so close at hand was glazed by moonlight, fragile as thin porcelain from another lifetime.

Though they sat together upon the gilded throne, his breathing seemed separated from her by five hundred years of wind and sand.

She suddenly feared reaching out to touch him, afraid that the warmth beneath her fingertips would turn into drifting smoke in an instant.

When the final note fell like a dewdrop into a still pool, Lin Hai abruptly turned around.

The way he propped up his chin was like a mirror, reflecting her usual majesty as she judged all living things, yet also leaving her nowhere to hide.

"When the song ends, people part. Burying love in one's heart is also a kind of fulfillment."

Bibi Dong's voice gathered the chill of ten thousand years of black ice once more, attempting to freeze every ripple stirred by the strings just moments ago.

But the young man paid her no heed and leaped down from the throne!

His deep violet robes billowed, sweeping across the cold jade steps like a drop of deadly spider venom, instantly spreading eerie ripples through the silent night.

"Your Holiness the Pope's throne—"

His voice carried a teasing lilt, his fingertips seeming to still retain the feel of the gilded armrest.

"It's big and comfortable!"

Before his words had faded, he had already transformed into a blurry streak of purple lightning shooting toward the hall doors. He moved so quickly that even the Death Spider Web gathering at Bibi Dong's fingertips stalled for an instant!

"Wretched disciple! Stop!"

Her furious cry tore through the frozen air, carrying a trace of panic too faint to detect.

At the backlit doorway, Lin Hai's silhouette was stretched long as he waved with his back turned.

That resolute posture perfectly overlapped with the figure in the qin piece that had shattered the city tower and walked into the wind and sand!

A light, drifting sentence, like a blood-stained fortune slip, was casually tossed back into the cold hall.

"This piece is called—'A Life's Love.'"

The lingering notes had yet to fade, yet they seemed to grow madly beneath the deathly silent dome like living things, twisting into thorny vines that tightened around the soul.

Bibi Dong sat frozen upon the luxurious throne, which was rapidly losing its warmth.

A sharp pain came from her palm. Looking down, she saw winding streaks of blood, like a scarlet verdict silently written across her pale skin.

A Life's Love...

At last, those four words became a red-hot brand, searing themselves deep into the deepest fracture of her soul.

Amid the agony, the prophecy of Destiny trembled out by the qin strings exploded in her mind, clear enough to drive one to despair:

This master-disciple bond was nothing more than, upon Destiny's gambling table—

Two dice forcibly cast out, stubborn and burning hot, yet refusing to admit defeat even unto death.