You Two Are So Close

Even though Senior Sister Lin is dead, her soul should still belong to her.

Xiao Lanle stared at the jade slip dangling from her hand, its concentric knot swaying gently. She closed her fingers slowly, crushing it in her palm. Call it selfish willfulness; even if Lin Qianshuang truly had died, she would never allow her to drink the Soup of Oblivion and forget everything.

Inside the Shark Pearl, a mist-shrouded mountain bridge appeared. A red bridal sedan floated eerily above the planks without touching them, gliding forward. In front strode a black-clad figure bearing a Soul-Summoning Banner; the ritual bell in his other hand rang softly, as though guiding the way.

That black robe looked familiar.

Cold light flashed across Xiao Lanle’s soft spiritual eyes. She formed a sword seal with two fingers, and a sliver of sword qi leaked from the long sword on the table. The spirit sword leapt into the air, spun once, and landed horizontally before her feet. Its hilt nudged her robe like an eager pet, urging her to mount and ride.

Why this sudden heaviness in her chest? She was no longer the Xiao Lanle of old.

Xiao Lanle is now destined to be the Penglai Sect’s head, the one who will hold the fate of human cultivators in her palm.

She swung onto her spirit sword in one fluid motion, fingers brushing the cool blade, her elegant face bright with purpose. “Suwen¹,” she said, smiling, “let’s bring Senior Sister back together.”

Sight vanished into pitch black.

Lin Qianshuang felt herself lurch and sway, as if trapped in a carriage. She groped at the darkness; a faint glow leaked in at one edge. Her fingers met soft silk.

She lifted the cloth: fine red brocade stitched with festive patterns and hung with golden tassels, a bridal veil.

Sunlight knifed through mandarin-duck embroidered curtains into the dim red palanquin, dazzling her. Dressed in ornate scarlet bridal robes, she tried to rise, but Demon-Suppressing Talismans surrounded her on every side and a Ghost-Suppressing Command stood guard at the curtain, forcing her back onto the cushioned seat.

She drew back the palanquin’s window curtain and peered out. Everything was a blur of white; thick mist rolled and hid the landscape, yet a lone egret skimmed so low through the clouds she could almost touch it.

I must be high in the mountains, Lin Qianshuang decided. Xu Zheng belongs to the Lingxiao Sword Sect, and the marriage registration was meant to take place between the two sects. Right now, I’m being carried toward Lingxiao.

When a cultivator dies, the sect removes their natal soul lamp and strikes their name from the rolls. A ghost marriage has no standing in the sect, so Chen Shangqing will not bring my soul inside the gate. He’ll leave me somewhere at the foot of the mountain.

After several failed attempts to slip out of the palanquin, she resigned herself to fate. She tugged off the heavy phoenix crown, shook free of the stifling outer robes, and sprawled half-reclining on the cushioned seat.

Since the male lead was walking ahead, any thought of escape was hopeless.

She might as well polish off the plate of peanuts and red dates placed by her feet.

She glanced down. The jujubes were plump and glossy; the shelled peanuts looked white and fat.

Lin Qianshuang popped a date into her mouth, too sweet, then cracked a peanut between her teeth. A small, surprised smile surfaced; the nut was fragrant and crisp.

Knowing she couldn’t finish the whole serving now, she simply tipped the dish into her storage jade. Leaving the food in the bridal sedan would only waste it; later, whenever her mood lifted, she could peel a few for amusement. This ghost wedding promised nothing but boredom, and she needed something to pass the time.

A thread of spiritual energy brushed past, setting the brass bells beneath the red tassels at each corner of the palanquin tinkling.

Someone’s coming?

Lin Qianshuang’s senses pricked. The half-peeled peanut shell vanished from her fingers, and the Shark Pearl slid along her cheek into her empty palm. A figure who had masked every trace of breath melted out of the air behind her and wrapped both arms around her waist.

The pearl’s gleam gave her a mirror: Xiao Lanle in soft pink-white robes, graceful and poised, her delicate curves pressed to Qianshuang’s back, arms tightening as if to fold the two of them into one.

“Junior Sister Xiao, you made it through the sect-head trial in one piece. Thank heavens.”

Smiling, Qianshuang eased forward, only to be tugged back; caught off balance, she found herself sitting sideways across Lanle’s lap.

Held like a child in Lanle’s lap, Qianshuang’s face burned; she wriggled free and whispered, “Junior Sister, this isn’t proper…”

“Senior Sister, your voice carries. Do you want the man in black to hear? If he finds us, I won’t be able to save you.”

Lanle’s lovely features were touched with fatigue, yet her spirit-rich eyes stayed fixed on Qianshuang’s profile. Softly finishing the warning, she blew a playful breath across Qianshuang’s cheek. Seeing the flustered look that followed, her mood seemed to soar; a teasing, narrow smile curved her lips.

“…” Qianshuang was speechless. In the original story the Shark Pearl was Liang Jingxuan’s ultimate cheat; she wasn’t worried about discovery. What did worry her was the way Lanle’s arms remained steel-tight and one wandering hand traced patterns along her waist, plainly taking liberties.

“Stop fooling around, Junior Sister; the situation is grim.”

As Qianshuang tried to pry the hand away, she turned and found herself nose-to-nose with Lanle. The girl studied her as though she were a heartbreaker who still owed a love debt.

Lanle nestled her cheek against Qianshuang’s neck and wheedled, “Senior Sister, don’t call me Junior Sister ever again. I want you to use my name. If you keep saying ‘Junior Sister,’ I’ll never let go.”

“……”

Qianshuang rubbed her brow, turned her head away, and muttered reluctantly, “Xiao Lanle, let go.”

“Qianshuang, look: I call you with two syllables, but you answer with three cold ones.”

Lanle counted the syllables on her fingers, aggrieved; her bright eyes stayed fixed on Qianshuang’s lips.

The head on Qianshuang’s shoulder inched closer, and for some reason her pulse skittered. She leaned away and gave a dry laugh. “Lanle.”

Lanle pouted, slid the arms that had been at Qianshuang’s waist up to her neck, and half-rose, putting on a hurt look. “Qianshuang, are you really unwilling? The bond between our sects is closer than most people’s. You used to say my name so easily, yet now you can’t even manage an affectionate word?”

That wasn’t it; the whole thing just felt odd. It was only a name, and she’d used it plenty of times before—why make such a fuss?

Even Qianshuang’s thick nerves could feel the air turning sticky, like fireworks slowly heating, about to burst into brilliant sparks inside her.

She steadied herself and called, “Lanle.”

“Not enough. Say it again.”

“Lan…”

Before the last syllable of “Lan” could leave her mouth, a feather-light kiss sealed it away.

It was no more than a soft brush of lips, summer cotton-candy melting on the tongue, sweet and pliant.

Before Qianshuang could even flush, Lanle’s mouth glided from the corner of hers to her brow and temple, touching as gently as water; all the while Lanle kept her posture perfectly composed, provoking neither revulsion nor unease.

“I thought my senior sister was dead… turns out your living soul can still be touched.”

“The moment I heard you’d died I kept asking myself: Father is gone, Senior Sister is gone, why did I walk out of the Sect’s succession trial alive? The world is empty, only I remain.”

Her eyes had always been like the first thaw of winter snow feeding a clear spring: limpid, bright, alive. Now, filmed with trembling tears, they held the desolation of blossoms falling in profusion, and the sight clenched the heart.

Xiao Lanle buried her head in Lin Qianshuang’s bosom, feigning heartbreak and delicate frailty while secretly thinking:

Senior Sister seems thinner; she isn’t as round and softly huggable as before. Once we’re back at the sect I’ll have to fatten her up, ten whole catties if possible. A plump, roly-poly look is far more pleasing to the eye.

Breathing in Qianshuang’s faint natural scent, she brushed the back of the other woman’s hand and added, voice trembling with pretended tears, “Luckily I found you again. I’d come ready to gather your soul, but you’re alive. Thank goodness.”

“Wonderful, Qianshuang.”

Seeing Lanle weep, Qianshuang’s own chest tightened.

The sect master murdered; the one she once loved exposed as trash; her mother dead at her father’s hand; carrying a priceless treasure while malice gnawed her mind, nearly fracturing her sanity; forced, unwilling, to hide beside the city lord, all for revenge.

Xiao Lanle has probably walked every tragic heroine’s path there is, she thought.

She sighed, loosened the hand that had been clasping Lanle’s arm, slid it around the woman’s back, and gave her a firm, comforting pat followed by an even firmer hug. “Lanle, thinking that way is wrong. If you leave too, who will steady Penglai Immortal Sect? Could you really hand the foundation our master toiled to build over to those wolves who only covet profit? The murderer still roams free, and your road doesn’t end here.”

Lin Qianshuang stared straight into Lanle’s eyes, hands steady on her shoulders. “Lanle, you will be a fine sect master, the finest leader the human cultivation world has ever seen. You will become the one and only Alliance Leader of the Immortal Alliance.”

Lanle’s sobs cut off abruptly. She lifted her head, bewildered. “Shuangshuang, the sects are still secretly discussing an alliance to be called the Immortal Alliance. You weren’t at the last cultivation conference; how could you know?”

Realizing her slip, Qianshuang answered without missing a beat: “I’m from Tianshu City. Nothing under heaven happens without my hearing of it.”

Tianshu City.

It was that old monster Mu Weiyin again.

Tianshu City’s intelligence was never handed out for free; every scrap had to be paid for in kind.

Xiao Lanle recalled the intimate exchange she had overheard in the Sect Leader’s secret realm, and her eyes dimmed.

She dabbed at her tears with a silk handkerchief, shelled the peanut she had snatched from Lin Qianshuang, and stuffed it into the mouth that had been about to speak.

She wanted no part of whatever was between those two; she already knew every last detail.

Senior Sister, Lanle sneered inwardly, are you and the Lord of Tianshu City already so “close”?

The peanut shot into her mouth so suddenly that Lin Qianshuang had no time to chew; it lodged in her throat. Just as she used her inner force to eject it, the bridal sedan settled to a halt.