Guilt

After Song Qingshu woke in the night and saw Zhou Zhiruo sleeping on her side in the bed opposite him, a wave of disgust immediately rose within him. His mind began racing as he considered how to take revenge—how to avenge the original Song Qingshu and wash away this unbearable humiliation for himself. But when he thought of Zhang Wuji's peerless martial arts and his position as Cult Master of the Ming Cult, and of how the Ming Cult could stand toe-to-toe with the Mongol Empire in the Western Regions, its power clearly immense, he was now nothing but a cripple, with neither martial arts nor influence. How could he possibly take revenge? A sense of helplessness spread through his entire body.

His eyes inadvertently landed on Zhou Zhiruo's exquisite face again, and Song Qingshu's fighting spirit flared up along with his hatred.

If his meridians were severed, he would simply find a way to repair them. He still roughly remembered the Nine Yin Manual and the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms from within the Heavenly Sword and Dragon Slaying Saber. Combined with his familiarity with the martial arts treasures of this world, mastering peerless martial arts should not be difficult. Then he would find those hidden treasures. With the realm currently in chaos, it would be easy to gather a force of his own. At last, he would settle things with Zhang Wuji...

As his thoughts grew clearer, Song Qingshu gradually calmed down instead. He had considered secretly informing Zhao Min and having her come catch them in adultery, but Zhao Min was a terrifyingly clever woman. There was no guarantee she would not betray him to Zhang Wuji for some reason. Then he would be exposed instead, and the three of them would certainly have no room for him... The thought alone sent chills down his spine.

The next day, before everyone, Zhang Wuji regretfully announced that he could do nothing about Song Qingshu's severed meridians. Zhou Zhiruo had been worried that Song Qingshu might lose control, but to her surprise, he calmly took a sip of tea and said evenly, "Such is fate. Song cannot blame anyone else. Sect Leader Zhang, I have troubled you during this time."

Even Zhao Min looked him over in surprise. Song Qingshu responded with a faint smile, though his heart was a stormy sea as he continuously refined his future plans for revenge.

This was the ability he had honed through struggling in society in his previous life. Unless victory or defeat had already been decided, he would never expose his resentment too soon and put his opponent on guard in advance.

After chatting for a while, Zhang Wuji had no choice but to lead his entourage away early because the war in the Western Regions was pressing. Zhou Zhiruo instructed her disciples to pack their belongings, and they too set out for Emei.

"Cult Master, you seem to have become even more beautiful lately." Along the way, two young female disciples sincerely flattered Zhou Zhiruo.

Zhou Zhiruo had always been beautiful, but there had once been a gloomy air between her brows that made people somewhat afraid to look at her. Now, a faint smile seemed to rest at the corners of her lips at all times. By comparison, she truly appeared even more radiant than before.

"Zhiruo is naturally beautiful. Of course she will only grow more beautiful." Song Qingshu gently took Zhou Zhiruo's small hand and gazed at her affectionately. Feeling her smooth, tender skin, he sneered inwardly. The disciples did not know the reason, but he knew perfectly well. These past few days, Zhou Zhiruo had been nourished every day by the essence of Zhang Wuji's Nine Yang True Qi. Naturally, she had become even more alluring.

With her disciples watching, Zhou Zhiruo found it awkward to pull her hand away directly. After all, he was her husband. Still, impatience rose within her, and her gaze gradually turned cold. Though she called herself Madam Song before Zhang Wuji, that did not mean she truly allowed Song Qingshu to do intimate things with her as a husband and wife would.

Song Qingshu felt that was enough and released her hands. He sat leisurely in the carriage and rested with his eyes closed.

After extensive deliberation, he had already made up his mind over the past two days. Although the hope of reconnecting his meridians was slim, he had to try before he could accept it. Of the Four Great Divine Doctors, Ping Yizhi and Divine Doctor Xue were likely on par with Hu Qingniu. Since Zhang Wuji could do nothing, they probably could not either. That left only the most mysterious Poison Hand Medicine King. Moreover, Cheng Lingsu, the future Sage Hand of Medicine, was with him. No matter how he considered it, that was where his greatest hope lay.

If all went smoothly and his meridians were healed, he would train hard in martial arts, retrieve those peerless manuals and treasures, and proceed according to plan. If they truly could not be healed, then so be it—he simply would not learn martial arts. Wei Xiaobao did not know any martial arts either, yet he still prospered magnificently. He had climbed step by step in his previous life as well. There was no reason he could not succeed in this life!

Song Qingshu was a man of unyielding determination. Unless he died, he would never abandon even the slightest hope.

He had already prepared to leave without saying goodbye, but before departing, he needed to collect a little interest from certain people. At that thought, Song Qingshu narrowed his eyes and examined Zhou Zhiruo's back. Sitting ahead of him, Zhou Zhiruo suddenly felt a slight chill crawl over her skin and could not help pulling her clothes tighter.

After nightfall, the group of four found an inn in a small town. Once they had finished dinner, the two female disciples tactfully returned to their rooms to rest. Zhou Zhiruo furrowed her delicate brows and followed Song Qingshu into his room. Seeing that there was only one bed inside, her expression darkened.

Following her gaze, Song Qingshu quickly understood what was wrong. Smiling, he said, "Zhiruo, you can sleep in the bed tonight."

"What about you?" Zhou Zhiruo had not expected Song Qingshu to be so sensible, and warmth rose in her heart. Remembering how he had always treated her with courtesy, never once overstepping even after their marriage, she then thought of her agreement with Zhang Wuji behind his back. Two red clouds immediately bloomed across her cheeks.

"I'll sleep on the floor." Song Qingshu gave her cheeks a puzzled glance.

"How can that do? Your injuries have not healed yet. The cold dampness from the floor is too heavy. It could leave you with a lasting illness." Zhou Zhiruo's words warmed Song Qingshu's heart. It seemed she was not entirely without conscience after all.

"What else can we do?" Song Qingshu glanced at the only bed, his meaning obvious. "How about we squeeze in together?"

"How can we do that?" Zhou Zhiruo immediately shook her head like a rattle-drum. If she had not made that promise with Zhang Wuji for the future, perhaps she would have agreed for the sake of their marriage. They could each use their own blanket, and her martial arts far surpassed his, so she was not afraid he would entertain any improper thoughts.

Song Qingshu gave a bitter smile. "Don't worry. I'll ask the innkeeper for a few extra mattresses and lay them on the floor."

Knowing that one day she would abandon him and become the wife of the man he hated most, Zhou Zhiruo already felt somewhat guilty. Hearing him say this, she hurriedly stood up. "Your injuries have not healed. Sit and rest. I'll get them." With that, she rushed out.

When the innkeeper saw that a girl who looked like a fairy had come to borrow mattresses, he was overjoyed and enthusiastically gave her several. As she left, he stared after Zhou Zhiruo's retreating figure and asked, "Fairy maiden, do you need any quilts as well?"

Even after returning to the room, Zhou Zhiruo remained rather pleased. What woman did not enjoy being praised by men for her beauty? In high spirits, she helped Song Qingshu arrange his bedding on the floor. Since they had not truly become husband and wife, it would not do for the disciples to find out, so she could only do everything herself.

At last, she finished laying it out. Zhou Zhiruo raised a hand and wiped the fine sweat from her forehead. Song Qingshu poured a cup of tea and handed it to her. "Zhiruo, you've worked hard. Have some water."